𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐇

Chapter 2

Over the next few weeks, Harry hardly had time to himself. Everyone wanted to talk to him, ask him what happened, be seen with him, be known as his friend. Eventually, tired of the fuss, he took Mrs Weasley up on her offer of hospitality at the Burrow. Even there, with the wards back up specifically to give them all some privacy, there were constant comings and goings from the Ministry. Harry knew they needed to know what had happened, and the new Minister for magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, was unfailingly kind and patient. He knew there were things Harry would tell no one except Ron and Hermione, and didn’t press him.

Then there were the funerals. Harry spent those weeks attending one after another. Mrs Weasley had told him there was no need to go to them all, but Harry felt that he had to. He had been ready to die for them all – but that had been his solitary task. It was unfair that all these people – adults and children alike – had died for him in return. Always silent, always accompanied by Ron and Hermione, he watched each coffin being lowered into the ground and wept deep inside himself for the loss.

Eventually, though, the disconnection began to fade and, with the loving support of the Weasley’s and his other friends, he began to feel more alive. He began to smile again, and it felt as if, eventually, he would become himself – the boy who had been hidden inside – shunted aside for The Boy Who Lived.

Of course there was the question of what he would do now that it was all over. He had missed a year of school, as had Ron and Hermione. Others at Hogwarts had had sporadic teaching and, after talking to his fellow Gryffindors, Harry made up his mind.

“I’m going back.”

“What?” Ron blinked, a muffin halfway to his mouth.

“To Hogwarts,” Harry expanded. “I’m going back. I’m going to finish my last year, get my N.E.W.T.S and become an auror.”

“But Harry, Kingsley already said you...” Hermione started.

Harry cut her off. “Just because I killed Voldemort, it doesn’t mean I know how to bring down every dark wizard around. I know I have a lot more to learn – where better than Hogwarts?” He sighed. “Besides, I think Hogwarts will need me... us.”

“What? Us three? Why us?” Ron asked. He looked down at his muffin, then put it back on his plate and sat back in his chair, staring questioningly at Harry.

“Not just us – they need the older students. They need you and Neville and Luna and... and everyone who’s supposed to be there. They need us to prove that Hogwarts is still a great place to be. They need us to be... I dunno... normal.”

Ron glanced at Hermione, who reached out and took Harry’s hand. “Harry... we’ll never be normal again.”

“Well I want to be,” Harry snapped. “I want to get on with my lessons. I want to learn more charms, more potions, more defence. I want to captain the Quidditch team again, I want to earn points for Gryffindor, I want to get detentions from Snape...” He stopped suddenly, then shook his head and bit his lip, not knowing if he was holding back a sob or a really loud scream.

Hermione squeezed his hand. “Okay, Harry. We’ll go, won’t we, Ron? Oh shut up!” She glared at Ron’s opened mouth. “We’ll do our N.E.W.T.S and finish school properly. Oh my! That means I’d better send an owl to Professor McGonagall. We’ll need equipment and books and...” still listing items, she left the room.

Ron turned his eyes to Harry. “Mate,” he said sadly. “What did you have to go and do that for?”

Harry let all the breath he’d been holding out and couldn’t help grinning at the tragic expression on Ron’s face. It was as if he had a tight band around his chest for weeks and finally, he could breathe again.