(A/N: Short, but I didn't need to make it long.)
It was a week before Harry received any news of Ron. While he made daily pilgrimages to the infirmary to ask Madam Pomfrey about his friend's condition, the answer remained the same.
"No," she would say. "Nothing's changed."
He was sitting in Transfiguration, barely listening to Professor McGonagall's lecture, when Dumbledore entered the classroom. The entire class froze, and Professor McGonagall stopped in mid-sentence. Dumbledore gazed over the class, pausing pointedly when he looked at Hermione and Harry. Not bothering with his books, Harry got to his feet and in an instant was by the headmaster's side with Hermione. Dumbledore took them both aside and lowered his voice.
"Harry, Miss Granger," said Dumbledore quietly. "Ronald Weasley is just beginning to come around. We don't know whether he'll be himself or...something else. Are you sure you want to witness this? I will not pretend that this could not easily become a very traumatic and horrifying experience. Mr. Alverton himself will be overseeing his revival, and if he sees any sign that Corlov Dren is in control, he has authorization to subdue Mr. Weasley by any means necessary. Do you understand?"
Harry and Hermione both nodded. Harry's heart was racing in his chest. He knew and realized that there was a real chance that he would not be seeing his best friend when he went down to the infirmary, but he had not accepted it. Not seeing Ron again...it seemed impossible.
"Good," said Dumbledore. "Then we'll go." Louder, to Professor McGonagall, he asked, "Minerva, do you mind if I take Harry and Miss Granger away from you for the remainder of the period?"
"Not at all," said Professor McGonagall. She too knew the gravity of the situation.
The three of them breezed through the halls, and, for once, the corridors and stairways seemed to cooperate and not throw any hazards or dead-ends in their way. Normally, Harry would run into at least one misleading passageway on his way through the school. Today, however, there were no obstacles, and they reached the hospital wing in only a few minutes.
Harry and Hermione walked into the infirmary to see the entire Weasley family surrounding Ron's bed, some standing, some sitting, but all of them wearing the same expression of deep apprehension. Mr. Alverton stood nearby, wand at his side, staring warily at Ron, looking as though he would rather be fighting dragons in Romania than being in that room.
"Hello Harry and Hermione," Mrs. Weasley said in a little-too-cheery voice as soon as she saw them, going up and giving them both hugs. Harry was close enough to see the tears in her eyes. They didn't seem to fit with the welcoming smile. "I'm so glad you both came down to see- to see-"
She choked, covered both of her eyes with her hands, and began to sob. Fred and George, who were sitting nearby, came up from behind her. Fred put an arm over her shoulder and led her back to a seat, while George leaned closer to Harry.
"She a wreck," said George, his face as grim as Fred's. Unusual for the twins who were always cracking jokes and causing ruckus. "She keeps trying to act like nothing's wrong, but breaks down every time. Strange woman..."
"It won't be much longer now," said Professor Whams, coming out from some side doors.
He wore his usual purple silk robe, though it seemed to have lost some of its sheen over the course of the days. His glasses were missing, as usual. Percy, Harry saw, hardly noticed the professor, as he was so absorbed in standing by Ron's nightstand, looking down at his younger brother.
"I just finished my analyzing of Mr. Weasley," continued Whams. "He seemed to be doing well enough."
Looking at his Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Harry wondered how he had not seen through the facade earlier. It was so obvious now that he looked at him. It was obvious in the way his eyes darted around the room in a quick but careful fashion, it was obvious in the way he carried himself. Harry could see through mask of foolishness and realized that he was looking at someone who rivaled Voldemort in cunning. Not in power, but in simple manipulation and cleverness.
Harry was beginning to dislike Professor Whams.
"That's good news," said Mr. Weasley throatily. Deep circles ran under his eyes.
"Good news," echoed Bill, not looking as though he was listening at all.
"I've been monitoring him closely over the past few weeks," said Whams, making wild and unnecessary gesticulations with his hands. How obvious he was now! "The wizarding community is just beginning to understand how these sorts of possessions occur and how they work. Various tests have shown how the auxiliary personality, that is, Corlov Dren, can become a primary one-"
"Tests?" Harry repeated suddenly. Whams looked at him strangely. "He's a person, not an experiment. What does any of your testing have to do with saving him?"
Whams was beginning to look rather uncomfortable, though his foolish, oblivious facade still held. "Every bit of information we can extract from his condition can help him and other afflicted with this unfortunate complication. The problem is being studied heavily."
"Is that why there is a tank of brains sitting in the middle of Department of Mysteries?" asked Harry. "And not just any brains, mind you, but brains of Death Eaters and who-knows-what."
"I wouldn't know anything about what occurs within the Department of Mysteries," said Whams with feigned surprise, though Harry detected an underlying chill.
"Well, I happen to know a little bit," said Hermione, and Harry turned to stare at her. Dumbledore must have told her as well.. "And I know that they enjoy their research. So much so that I sometimes wonder whether they understand the point of possessing knowledge. Small wonder that there aren't Unspeakables here performing tests of their own."
Whams' eyelid twitched imperceptibly, but he covered with one of his vapid grins. "Interesting, but I do wonder how much data they could possibly collect."
"Enough to fill a desk drawer, possibly," said Harry evenly.
Whams glanced sharply at Harry, but evidently decided that he would pretend not to have heard.
Suddenly, Ron stirred in his bed, his legs kicking into the sheets. The surrounding visitors fell around him in a tight circle, but quickly parted as Madam Pomfrey emerged from her office and hurried over to Ron's bed. Harry managed to catch a glimpse of one of Ron's arms jerk violently, as though he was experiencing some sort of seizure.
"What's going on?" Mrs. Weasley cried. She eased her way through and grabbed Ron's hand.
"Let the boy breathe," said Whams, trying vainly to pull the Weasley clan back. "Remember that you need to be here to trigger his old memories."
Ron let out a long, wheezing gasp, like air rushing into an empty vacuum.
"Try to make eye contact everyone," said Madam Pomfrey, leaning over and checking his pulse, then his eyes. They were dilated. "Not long now."
Another spasm seized Ron, and his swung wildly, almost hitting the nurse with a stray hand. His back arched upwards and he groaned.
Madam Pomfrey grabbed a vial from the nightstand, and, struggling, tried to force it down Ron's throat, but with little success. Bill and Charlie jumped in, taking their brother's shoulders and pinning them to the bed. Still, they had a difficult time.
"It's a bad one, that's for sure," Madam Pomfrey said, and at last managed to pour the liquid into Ron's mouth. He sputtered and spat, but swallowed some regardless. "Wear him down!" Mrs. Weasley was crying in the background.
From the corner of his eye, Harry saw Mr. Alverton slowly, discretely draw his wand. The Auror was obviously taking no chances, and Harry saw a determination in his eyes that led him to believe that Mr. Alverton would curse Ron if it would protect the people in the room.
"Move aside," said Whams, easing his way through the Weasley's to get a better look at Ron.
"Almost there!" announced Madam Pomfrey, dodging one of Ron's legs. "Make eye contact!"
Ron's eyes snapped open and, for the first time since the seizure began, he seemed completely calm. He stared around the room, as though not recognizing it, then, smiling, he shut his eyes.
Hermione's eyes went wide with alarm, and Madam Pomfrey's face froze. Something was wrong.
"Quickly, there's little time!" cried the nurse. "Prop his head on some pillows! Hurry!"
Ron's body had gone limp, and there was no sign that he was conscious or even alive. It was as though he had suddenly fallen asleep.
"Ennervate!" Madam Pomfrey incanted.
The spell struck Ron in the forehead, and for a moment, it did not have any apparent effect. Bill and Charlie stood as still as stone, supporting Ron's head with several pillows, while Percy leaned heavily on the side wall, shock written across his face. Mrs. Weasley was sobbing in Mr. Weasley's shoulder, and the twins were sitting at the foot of the bed, unmoving. Hermione was clutching at Harry's arm, and, if Harry had been paying attention, he would have seen that she was cutting off circulation. Whams was staring at Ron with deep interest.
A fraction of a second passed and Ron's eyes shot open for a second time. This time he seemed aware of his surroundings, and, weakly, he pushed himself up from the pillows and looked around in a confused fashion. Mrs. Weasley had stopped crying and was now watching Ron with mingled disbelief and joy. Mr. Alverton was gripping his wand so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. No one spoke.
"Something wrong?" Ron asked, rubbing his neck. There wasn't a trace of green in his blue eyes. "What're you all doing here?" He paused. "What am I doing here?"
Madam Pomfrey quickly grabbed him and turned his head this way and that examining his ears and mouth. "Dear Merlin, I see nothing wrong-"
"Of course not," said Ron, pulling away. "Now what're you all doing here?"
Mrs. Weasley tried to speak, but no words came out.
Ron's eyes turned to Harry. "Hey, mate," He got off the bed.
"Hey," Harry said, sucking in a deep breath. "Are you...feeling all right?"
"Why wouldn't I be?" Ron asked, grinning. "How could I be feeling bad with winter break right around the corner?"
**
Harry wished that the year's final exams would have at least created some sense of normalcy to Hogwarts. He hoped that, with everyone too busy studying, that the gossip would end and he could go on with his life in peace.
Of course, no such thing happened.
Ever since Harry had told Ron of his new relationship with Hermione, the redhead began acting rather coolly towards him. The were never together as often as they used to, and, when Hermione was around, he would clam up and find an excuse to leave the room.
Not that Harry had seen much of Ron since the day - now over a month ago - he had revived from Gates' Memory Charm. The Obliviation had not been without its adverse effects. While Corlov Dren was thoroughly eliminated from Ron's mind, so was a large part of his sixth year. They had spent an hour convincing Ron that it was, in fact, early April, and not December as he had originally thought. Now Ron spent much of his time in the common room, catching up on schoolwork and other material that had been previously wiped from his mind. In all likelihood, he would have to find a tutor over the summer to help make up for the loss.
At first Harry thought that his difficulties with Ron would pass on their own like they always did, but this time they did not. Most time Hermione acted as a sort of a mediator between them, but since Ron had separated himself from her as well as Harry, there was little possibility for reconciliation.
As if this alone was not problem enough, the schools view of him became more polarized than ever. On one hand there were treated him with a sort of special reverence, and on the other were those who hated every last bit of him, with a tiny slice of those who actually knew him in between. The Slytherins especially took Gates' absence as an opportunity to make up for an entire year's worth of pranks which they had abstained from because of the Hit Wizard.
Snape returned to his usual sarcastic, bitingly sarcastic self, though Harry found himself usually spared from the worse of the Potions master's excesses. The one thing Harry found strange was that, despite Snape's legendary hatred for Gates, he was never asked about the duel in the kitchens. Indeed, Snape seemed to be acting like he was disinterested in the whole affair, which Harry knew for a fact that he was not.
Harry never saw another sign of Madam Bassel, nor of Gates. Dumbledore mentioned the Hit Wizard from time to time, so he knew that Gates was still inside of the school, but they never went there again. Harry had no inclination to change that, either.
Defense Against the Dark Arts classes became something like watching a circus act. Now realizing that Whams was intentionally putting up a facade, the professor's antics no longer seemed so ridiculous or amusing. On the contrary, they annoyed him. Harry saw Whams as a callous Unspeakable whose sole reason for being at Hogwarts was to observe Ron like he was some sort of guinea pig. But then, Whams was there to help, wasn't he?
Occlumency lessons actually became something to look forward to. There, at least, Harry knew exactly what was expected of him and what to do. There were no gray areas or ambiguities.
The final exams passed without event, and it was coming to a point where there were only a few days left before Harry would be leaving on the Hogwarts Express. He had finished the last of his Potions and Transfiguration classes, and there were only a few Care of Magical Creature, Charms, and Defense Against the Dart Arts classes to go before he was finished.
So, when Harry walked into the dungeons for his last Occlumency lesson, he could not help but feel depressed at the fact that this was yet another sign that the year was nearing an end.
Harry was about to knock on Snape's office door when he heard, "Come in."
He turned the handle and walked in, seeing the now-normal scene of Snape sitting behind his heavy oak desk, scrawling what were undoubtedly failing grades on a stack of parchment. Nothing unusual.
"Sit," said Snape, not looking up.
Harry silently sat in the chair, and, as usual, waited for the Potions master to begin. At length Snape stood from his desk, drew his wand, and stared down at Harry, as though waiting for a signal. Harry nodded in return.
"Legilimens!" Snape said, and the session began.
Harry's mind was repeatedly bombarded by Snape's probing, relentless attacks. The Potions master showed no mercy, and seized the very worst of Harry's memories and attempted to twist his mind with them. While they were difficult to fend off, they were not impossible, and Harry managed to push him out again by the end. However, it was not nearly as easy as it had been, especially without Pseudo-Snape there to help.
At the end, Snape set his wand on his desk and moved back to his seat. Harry watched him warily, remembering all too well the last time where Snape pulled out a hidden wand and performed one last Legilimency attack before he reached his seat.
This time, however, no hidden wand was drawn. "You are not prepared to face the Dark Lord," said Snape flatly. "I would not feel comfortable with you facing anyone who is moderately skilled at Legilimency. Your mind is tumultuous with emotion, Potter."
Snape clearly expected a response, so Harry asked, "More practice then?"
"Obviously," said Snape. "It did not come as a surprise when your Occlumency skill fell when you lost the aid of that...shadow...but I do expect better performance in the future. It should now be very clear to you how important your mission is."
"I've been practicing," countered Harry. Then, drawing Confessions of a Dark Wizard: The Pravus Necklace from his robe, he said, "I brought this back, too." He leaned forward and set it on Snape's desk.
The Potions master picked it up and slowly turned to the first page. He examined the binding and the paged meticulously, taking particular care to inspect the spine and cover.
"It seemed to have survived your care in adequate condition," Snape said. He set it back. "But I daresay that's because it was never used."
"I read it," Harry said with finality.
Snape raised an eyebrow. "Not for my sake, Potter, for yours. Foolish if you passed up such an opportunity to learn of the Pravus necklace. Then, I doubt the material is relevant now, with Alex gone."
Harry stared at Snape for a long time, not speaking, knowing exactly what he was trying to do. The Potions master wanted to know what happened in the kitchens, but was too proud to ask.
"You really wanted Gates dead, didn't you?" said Harry, reading a little more into Snape's blank expression.
"Of course," said Snape casually. "I would've done it myself it didn't make everything terribly inconvenient."
"Then that's why you were monitoring those dueling practices with Gates?" asked Harry.
Snape glared at him. "I won't answer stupid questions, Potter. No. Dumbledore asked me to, like I told you before-"
"That's a lie and you know it," Harry said. "Dumbledore told me he made no such request."
Snape did not answer immediately. "My motives are of little concern to you, Potter."
"Lupin told me it was something else," Harry said, not relenting. He wanted answers from the Potion master, and he was not going to leave until he got them. "He said that you were trying to do me a favor- that you were trying to give me tools. What the bloody hell for?"
"The werewolf should keep his snout out of my business," snapped Snape, standing up. "This Occlumency session is over. Get out."
Harry did not move from his seat. "What were you trying to do this year? Why do you keep helping Slytherins even though they know you're a traitor? Why-"
"Fool!" Snape said. "You think detentions and lines keep the Slytherin House whole? I do what I can to keep their parents off Hogwarts grounds and the students in line."
"That didn't stop you from giving detention to Malfoy earlier this year for insulting Hermione, did it?" shot back Harry. "Lupin made me think that that has something to do with me too."
"Get out of my office. That werewolf has no reason to divulge any such information to you," said Snape.
"Why not?" Harry said. "It's about me and my parents, isn't it?"
Harry regretted the words as soon as he said them. They conjured memories that he wished would go away. He could remember vividly opening his album, and seeing nothing but ash in the place of his mother's photographs.
Just then, Snape did the worst possible thing. "You want to stay, Potter? Then let's make more productive use of our time. Legilimens!"
Snape instantly latched onto Harry's mind, and, with absurd ease, he picked open the scab and revealed the so-recently remembered memory of the album. Of losing his mother forever. Of ashes and flame.
It all lasted less than a second. Snape stepped back, staring at him. "What did I tell you, Potter?" snarled Snape. "I warned you what Alex would do. And look where your warped decision brought you."
"You- You-" Harry wanted to sum up all of his thoughts of the Potions master in a sentence, but could not. It all came out in one barely coherent tirade. "You aren't me, Snape! You think that by prying into someone's mind you can understand anything and everything, but you can't! You don't understand. You'll never understand."
Snape recoiled and his eyes turned into slits. "You be careful what you say."
"You tell me what this year was about, Snape."
The Potions master advanced upon Harry like a man swathed in a black storm cloud. "That is and never will be your concern. Stop your melodramatic ravings and learn to analyze and think. Only L-" He stopped, looking furious with himself for some reason. "GET OUT!"
Harry had the sudden impression that he came less than an inch away from something vital. He stood up from the chair. "What-"
"Out!" Snape repeated, still advancing.
Harry backed out of Snape's office, not quite comprehending what was happening. "Snape what the hell was going on?" he exploded.
Snape stared at him icily. "Get out of my office, Harry." And then he slammed the door.
**
His last day at Hogwarts. Harry stared around at the common room surrounding him, his thoughts once again turning to Hermione. She was across the room at a table, absorbed in a book, and he did not want to interrupt her. Especially since she was in an already-anxious mood.
Ron was sitting next to him on the couch, which was unusual, and he considered talking to him, but figured that would only serve to make things more complicated. Better to save that for a later day.
His luggage was already packed, and he was now waiting with the rest of the great hall for the announcement that they were to go down to the carriages, which would then take them to the station where they would board the Hogwarts Express.
So when Professor McGonagall went through the portrait hole, he was surprised when she only called his name. Confused, he went to her, wondering if he had done something that would warrant punishment over the past few days.
"Is something wrong professor?" he asked, trying to figure out from her rather-severe expression whether he was in trouble or not. It was difficult to tell, as she was always annoyed about something.
"You could say that, Mr. Potter," she said in a business-like way. She drew a folder and offered it to him. "Did you forget to report to the headmaster's office this morning?"
"Was I supposed to?" he asked, looking at the folder but not taking it.
Professor McGonagall's eyes narrowed. "You've been in this school for six years, correct? On the last day of the year, you always report to the headmaster to receive any materials that may have been confiscated from you over the course of the year. Presuming, of course, that they are not so dangerous that they should not be returned."
"But nothing was confiscated from me," said Harry, more confused then ever.
Professor McGonagall made a long show of reading the name that was scrawled across the manila folder. "Yes, it definitely says Harry James Potter. The heads of house have free access to the confiscation box, so clearly one of us submitted it."
Reluctantly, Harry accepted the folder, but did not open it.
"I will not make such an allowance for you again," she continued. "If you forget to come to the headmaster, then your confiscated materials will remain in the headmaster's possession until next year."
"Errr, thanks," Harry said.
Professor McGonagall nodded curtly, turned, and went back through the portrait hole. Harry went back to the couch, sat down, and, wondering what it could possibly contain, opened the folder.
A slip of parchment and a slim package fell out.
Harry read the paper, which looked as though it had been stuffed in there as an afterthought. It said in a vaguely familiar scrawl that did not belong to him, "This doesn't belong to me."
Slightly apprehensive, Harry turned to the package and was about to tear it open when Professor McGonagall called, "All Gryffindors gather your luggage and please report to the carriages."
The common room scurried into life, and Harry put the package away, figuring he could look at it later. He went back to the dormitories to gather his suitcase and, after telling Hermione that he would meet her on the train, went to the Owlery to pick up Hedwig.
After a short carriage ride, he arrived at the train station and, after putting away his luggage, went to the back of the train where he usually met with Ron and Hermione. Nothing had changed. Both of them were there, though Ron was visibly tense and Hermione was nervous. At least they were both in the same place for once, Harry thought.
"Hey," Harry said.
Ron grunted and Hermione greeted him with a hug.
"What's that?" Hermione asked, looking at the package in Harry's hand.
Harry had nearly forgotten about it. "Oh, I don't know, actually. Professor McGonagall said it must have been confiscated off of me at some point during the year.
"You never told me about that!"
"That's because, frankly, I have no idea what she was talking about," said Harry. "I don't remember having anything taken off of me, but it has my name on it and everything."
Hermione frowned. "That's strange. Why don't you open it? Maybe you'll recognize it."
"That's what I'm going to do now."
He took a seat across from Ron and unfolded the package. He gasped when he saw what it was, and Hermione grabbed at his arm.
It was a picture of Lily in her seventh year. Harry did not recall ever seeing it before, but he was sure that this was not part of his original collection. It was by far the most beautiful picture of her that he had ever seen. She was standing outside on one of the hills outside Hogwarts, her red hair flowing out from behind her. She did not seem aware that her picture was being taken. Indeed, Lily seemed to be aware of very little, as her eyes were closed and she was smiling.
"Oh, Merlin," Hermione whispered. "Where did this come from?"
"I don't know," said Harry, pulling out the note that came with it. "All it came with was this."
Hermione read it then shook her head. "This doesn't make any sense. That was confiscated, wasn't it?"
"What, Potter got in trouble?" taunted a voice that Harry had not heard in a long time. Draco Malfoy. He was standing in the doorway with both of his cronies. Smirking, as usual. "I didn't know you could get in trouble when you've got a prefect-"
"Shut your mouth," Harry snapped.
Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Testy, are we? You should really fix that temper of yours. It won't do you any good." He sauntered over to where Harry sat. "You know, things are going to change real fast around here. You just wait."
"You make it sound so easy Malfoy," said Harry. "Did your dad tell you about what happened a few months ago?"
Malfoy did not answer.
"Do you even know what you're getting into?" Harry asked. "Voldemort had a big gathering of his Death Eaters and tortured a few of them. Killed two."
"Dad said they had it coming," hissed Malfoy.
"What makes you think that you don't?"
"You think you're such a big shot for beating me in that duel, huh?" said Malfoy, a smirk crawling back onto his face. "You're not. In the real world there aren't any rules, Potter. There aren't any restrictions. Use all the techniques you want, Potter. They won't stop a Killing Curse."
"You might be right," said Harry. "But a Killing Curse won't stop a backstabber."
Malfoy snorted. "No one betrays the Malfoy's. That's something you'll never understand."
"You're disgusting," Ron said suddenly, speaking for the first time. He stood up and glared at Malfoy in a look fit to kill. "Look at yourself, will you?"
Malfoy regarded Ron coolly. "Who's disgusting?" He eyed Ron's tattered robes. "I think your clothes speak for themselves."
"Harry saved your life, Malfoy, or have you forgotten that?" Ron asked. Malfoy froze. "You walk around like you own everything, but you owe Harry your life. You're just too cowardly to admit that."
"Saved my life?" Malfoy spat. "I could've gotten out by myself-"
"That's a lie," said Ron. "And you know it. I saw how Harry almost got eaten by that Grendel because you were slowing him down with your wounded leg. Don't you give me any of that."
Malfoy's mouth contorted as though he was about to say something, and then, thinking the better of it, he turned and strode out of the compartment, Crabbe and Goyle in tow.
Harry exhaled, then turned to Ron. "Thanks mate. I didn't feel like a duel."
Ron simply grunted.
Looking down at the picture of Lily in his hand, he quickly put it into his robes and sat back down, hoping there would be no further excitement.
"Harry?" Hermione murmured. "You'll send me owls, right?"
"Sure," Harry said distantly. "Every day."
Hermione laughed. "Don't make a promise you can't keep."
**
The hissing of the train's engines told Harry that they were nearing King's Cross, and when the Hogwarts Express finally came to a complete stop, he gathered his luggage and stepped onto the platform with Ron and Hermione next to him.
He was very surprised to see Dumbledore and Lupin standing a few meters away from him, beckoning him to come over.
When he did, he realized that this was by no means going to be a normal conversation. But then, conversations with his headmaster rarely were.
"What is it?" he asked, looking from Dumbledore to Lupin. Both wore similarly grave expressions.
"We're getting reports," said Dumbledore, being purposely vague for the surrounding crowd. "Remember what we discussed before concerning Tom's plans?"
Harry nodded. The plague.
"It's begun," said Lupin grimly. "Muggles and wizards are both coming down with it, and so far it's killed a dozen people. We're trying to contain it, but we aren't confident of success."
Harry wanted to ask more about it, but he realized that, because of the possibility of being overheard, there could be no further discussion.
"I wanted you to know before you left," said Dumbledore. "I did not want you guessing from what you will eventually read in muggle newspapers." He paused. "Also, I wanted to pose to you this one question. I want you to understand Tom and what he is. It is the belief of wizards that everything has its opposite. Good and evil. Light and dark. A door and a wall. If this is true, what is the opposite of a soul?"
Harry's mind went blank. The question was so utterly incomprehensible that he did not even know where to begin. But before he could express his confusion, Dumbledore had vanished.
"There's something else I'd like to talk with you about, Harry," said Lupin quietly. "I understand that Alex had in his possession your album for some time. Dumbledore explained to me the...circumstances."
"I lost a lot," Harry said. "But then I got this-" He pulled out the picture of Lily and handed it to Lupin.
"Amazing," Lupin murmured. "Harry, where did you get this? I don't believe I ever saw this photograph before."
Harry explained how he had received it, and then finished by saying, "But it's the best picture I've seen of her."
Lupin furrowed his brows. "That's most unusual. But then-" A light flickered in his eyes. "Perhaps not. Come on. I'll take you back to your uncle's car. I'm sure they're waiting."
Together they crossed the barrier and arrived on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Uncle Vernon was standing off to the side, trying to look inconspicuous, but failing.
"You're Harry's uncle?" asked Lupin.
Uncle Vernon nodded slowly. His eyes, however, were searching the crowd for others. Apparently he had expected Harry to come with the same entourage as he did last year.
"I'll see you next year, Harry," said Hermione, giving him a swift kiss on the cheek.
"Yeah, mate," said Ron. He reached out and offered his hand. Harry, somewhat taken aback, shook it. "Next year."
"Where's that Alexander Gates character?" said Uncle Vernon, looking around once more, heaving his bulk as he turned a full circle. "No longer around, is he?"
"No," said Lupin. "Not anymore. He got out of control and Harry had to defend himself from him."
Uncle gave Lupin a second glance, then turned to Harry. "Let's go, boy. Don't want anyone we know to see us..."
"Before you go, Mr. Vernon," Lupin began. "I strongly suggest that you take more care of how you treat Harry in the future. You have no idea what you're dealing with."
Uncle Vernon gave Lupin a long, wary stare, and then grunted. He turned and led Harry back to the car where Aunt Petunia and Dudley were waiting. He sighed, and then felt reassured by the picture of Lily that he had in his robes.
But the question remained: Who had given it to him?
Harry turned and saw Hermione and Ron waving frantically at him, and, as he got into his uncle's car, he remembered how close they all came to death. He himself had come the closest of all, with Gates standing over him, aiming his wand at his chest as he lay inert in the kitchens.
He knew now what a monster really was. It was Voldemort and Katashi and Gates and Kreacher. It was all of them, terrible but blind, reaching forward with an iron fist, not seeing nor caring who they struck.
More than ever before, Harry felt strong. He had confronted a monster, fought it, and overcame it. Was the glory of surviving the cause? He had come close to death many times before, and he decided what he felt now was very different. Nothing could describe how he felt. Something had changed, but what it was, he did not know.
Perhaps it was his new knowledge of the monsters of the world, of those demons that never, truly die.
The knowledge that, beyond the iron fist, behind the rows of teeth and fangs, and down its slick throat is the monster's maw. It is the maw which separates the monsters, divides them into categories, makes them cruel in their own different ways, driving them. It makes Voldemort kill and torture the innocent. It made Gates torment Death Eaters.
It was the answer to Dumbledore's question.
Oh, Harry knew he could glance at it, fleetingly peek into it, but no more. Not the best Legilimens in the world could. The maw was something off limits to everyone, even to the monster itself. It was too immense, too intricate for it to be quantified or even expressed.
The unanswerable questions of the maw still and will forever exist: What lies at its bottom? Who knows its depth?
(A/N: Wow, it's finally done. I can hardly believe it.
I appreciate everyone who left a review, and that at times was one of the few reasons I actually finished this monster (approx. 340,000 words).
Will there be a sequel? I don't know, but I want to do one. But feedback concerning what you think I should do better, what I should focus on, or anything on how I could have improved this fanfic would be helpful and raises the chances of a sequel. How will you know if I do a sequel? I'll simply add another chapter to this fanfic describing the sequel with a summary, and if you have story alerts enabled, you'll get an email.
I stayed up most of the night to complete this today, so I'm afraid I won't be responding to any of the reviews on my fanfiction.net side. I'm not sure of the quality of this chapter...I didn't intend it to be long, but I didn't intend it to be quite this short, either. Hopefully it wrapped everything up for you.
Good night.)