BEAUTIFUL DISASTERS ｢DRARRY｣

PART 17

The scene was all too familiar by now. Biscuits, two cups of tea instead of one, and a woman with a pointy hat sitting behind a desk. He smiled at her, and she returned it.

"Hello, Headmistress," he greeted as usual. It was the same routine every week; he'd come in, sit down in his usual chair, and listen. He was almost scared that this would be his last time here, as he could feel the story coming to a close.

"Call me Minerva," she said, and Harry smiled. She really had grown on him—was this what having a motherly figure felt like?

"We left at the defeating of the Horcruxes last time, except you left out the whole Neville bit," Harry offered, gladly reaching for a biscuit and his cup of tea.

He sipped at it. Earl grey, black. Exactly how he liked it.

Minerva nodded. "Yes, I remember. Well, the last battle of the war was called the Battle of Hogwarts, and as you guessed it, this was where it took place. We lost many lives here, unfortunately. Voldemort's army was very strong, and I sometimes even think that if it weren't for Neville, we would have lost."

The tea was scalding hot, but Harry still sipped at it, needing something to do with his hands as he listened.

"Towards the end of the battle, Voldemort made an announcement to all of Hogwarts, telling Neville that he had one hour to surrender himself or all hell would break loose. Of course, Neville did the noble thing and went. When he reached Voldemort, he did not let him kill him. He let himself die."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Neville is teaching Herbology right now," he said, pointing out the fact that yes, Neville was very much alive.

Minerva nodded. "Yes. Yes he is."

Harry set his tea down and reached for a biscuit.

"There is a legend that I'm not sure if you've heard of. Has Draco ever told you about the Deathly Hallows?" She asked.

Harry nodded, confused. "The story of the three brothers and all, right? What does that have to do with it? Are you telling me that they're real?"

Minerva smiled. "They're very real," she told him. Harry couldn't even bring himself to be surprised; by now, he accepted the fact that pretty much anything was possible in the wizard world.

"The cloak was handed to him. It originally was passed down the Potter line, but as James and Lily died, it went to Frank and Alice Longbottom—it was in James' will. And so, the cloak was then passed onto Neville himself before his parents died. Neville's grandmother made sure to give it to him when he was old enough.

"Next was the Resurrection Stone, which was passed to him by Albus Dumbledore. It was held in the Golden Snitch that Neville first caught, only to be opened before he sacrificed himself. He—"

"How did Dumbledore know that he would have to die? Wasn't he dead?" Harry cut her off.

She only smiled in reply. "Honestly, that man seemed to know everything." Harry wasn't very satisfied with that answer, but he didn't interrupt any further. "The Elder Wand was next. You see, one becomes the master of the Wand when they defeat the current owner. It really was quite complicated how Neville ended up as the master. But long story short, Albus Dumbledore had it. There was a boy who was tasked to assassinate him, and although he failed, he managed to disarm Dumbledore.

"Now, although Voldemort later stole the Wand from Dumbledore's grave, the boy was the true master. Later, Neville bested the boy in a duel, and therefore became the true master although he did not physically have the wand."

Harry noticed how she kept referring to the assassin without using his real name, but didn't bother to ask. It was probably someone he didn't know, so she didn't feel the need to give him the name.

"Therefore, when Neville let himself be killed, he was master of all three, and finally, the master of Death itself. Death did not defeat him, after all; he did not fight back. And so he fell to the ground and he died, but his heart did not stop beating. When this happened, the Horcrux in him died, and he came back a normal man to face the now-mortal Voldemort.

"There was a duel between the two, and of course, Neville won. Voldemort was killed, and fell as nothing more than a man."

The office was quiet for a moment as Harry went over her words. The biscuits were long eaten, and his tea was finished. He looked at Minerva, who had settled with an air of finality. "That's it, then?" He asked.

She nodded. "If you want it to be. Of course, you're still welcome to visit on Thursdays, if you would like."

Harry swallowed, and got up from his chair with a nod. "I think I will," he said, and he was telling the truth.

As he walked towards the door, Minerva stopped him. "You know, Harry, you could technically leave Hogwarts any time you'd like. A train ride could be easily arranged," she said.

Harry turned around to look at her one last time. "I know," he said quickly, and left without another word.

Later that day, as he sat watching Draco teach, he pondered Minerva's words. She said he could leave any time if he wanted to, that it could be arranged. He was not stuck here. He appeared here by chance and perhaps by fate, but he was not bound to this place.

But the more Harry thought about it, and the more he looked at Draco, he realized that he did not want to go. When he thought of home, he thought of Draco sitting behind his desk, eating a strip of bacon. When he thought of home, he thought of their spot under the tree near the lake. He thought of simmering cauldrons and frustratingly difficult hexes and hundreds of books about astronomy.

When he thought of home, he thought of Hogwarts. And with that revelation, Harry finally realized that if he could, he would spend the rest of his life right here, by Draco's side in a grand castle filled with magic.