After the Battle
Author note: J.K. Rowling is the creator of Harry Potter and owns all the characters and settings that the reader will recognize. No copyright infringement is intended.
This story is based on the traditions of literary alchemy.
The First Day - Part 1
The evening sky was a dark purple as Harry left the castle behind and walked silently toward the lake. The warmth of the day had passed but the air was still heavy and damp. The wind was silent and the water's surface was smooth, inviting. Harry ripped off his shirt, unlaced his trainers, and ran across the grass, smelling the fresh earth still muddy from an earlier rain. He reached the edge of the lake and threw himself into the water, crying out as the cool water pricked his skin with needles of fire.
He swam vigorously away from the castle, toward the Forbidden Forest. After a few minutes he reached the deepest part of the lake. He stopped, leaned back, stretched out his arms, and floated. He let the water surround him, carry him, strip him of the thoughts and terrors that had consumed him in the past year. He felt his mind, his body dissolving into the water. He closed his eyes and emptied his mind.
A single thought pushed insistently into his consciousness. Ron didn't fancy Hermione. How could that be? Harry had watched them for years-years!-and had seen all the signs. But Ron's answer to Harry's nervous question that afternoon was clear: "Do I fancy Hermione? No, well yes, I did, or I thought I did and I definitely thought she fancied me. But yeah, she's a great friend, and I do care for her as a friend-a lot!-but as a girlfriend, no. Really, Harry, could you see us together? I don't know what I was thinking." He paused. "One thing I know: I wanted her respect. I wanted her to say just once `Well done, Ron, that was amazing!' And she did, when we went to the Chamber. That's what I wanted." A slight smile creased Harry's face as he remembered Ron's earnest expression.
Harry blinked, then opened his eyes. A golden moon was rising over the lake and to his right, a channel of moonlight lit a path across the water to the opposite bank. Seized by a sudden impulse he couldn't explain, Harry swam to the narrow band of moonlit water and followed it toward the shore. He was tired now and starting to shiver, so his motions were sluggish and his progress slow. He was a few yards from the shore when a mysterious floating light near the first row of trees caught his attention.
Alarmed, Harry stopped and planted his feet on the soft lake bottom. He ducked his head down and moved slightly to his left, out of the ribbon of moonlight. The small circle of light hovered in place, pulsing slightly, growing, expanding. A strange, silvery, ill-defined shape-some kind of ghostly animal-leapt from the circle of light. The shape twisted and reared. Harry saw four legs and a powerful body: Was it a thestral? A horse? The animal turned its head to the side and Harry gasped, as saw a single, pointed horn on its forehead.
The unicorn pawed the ground in impatience. It was waiting. As Harry crept silently forward, his eyes picked out movement just outside the circle of light. Gradually the band of moonlight shifted and Harry saw, first long silvery hair, then the pale white face of a young witch. Dressed in robes with a long silver scarf twisted around her neck, she was firmly grasping her wand and speaking to her Patronus.
The unicorn nodded, turned, and began to skim over the water toward the castle. Harry, irrationally, ducked down into the water again and moved to the side, as he was directly in the animal's path. To his amazement, the unicorn mirrored his movement and, seconds later, stopped directly in front of him. The message was for him, though no one Harry knew had a unicorn Patronus.
But the voice of the message was as familiar to him as his own:
Harry, I just wanted you to know that I can't face the Feast in the Great Hall tonight. I'm sorry to let you down. Forgive me.
The unicorn dissipated into a cold gray mist that had Harry shuddering. He strode across the last few yards of the lake to the wet grass of the verge.
Hermione was sitting at the base of an enormous oak tree, reading an old book by wandlight, her fingers raking through the earth and leaves among its roots. Totally absorbed, she had not noticed the quick dispatch of her message. Harry shook himself and chuckled when he realized that his shirt and shoes were on the other side of the lake. Hermione would take care of him, though, he knew.
"So when did your Patronus change, Hermione?" Harry asked.
Startled, Hermione looked up from her book. "Harry, what are you doing here? Did you swim across the lake? Why aren't you at the Feast? Look at you-you're practically blue! Do you have a towel, a shirt, anything?
"If you're skivving off, why can't I?" Harry replied. "And yes, I swam across the lake. My shirt is on the other bank there, see? Didn't think about a towel, though."
"Honestly, Harry." Hermione stood, took out her wand, and Summoned Harry's shirt. Tying the silvery scarf more tightly around her neck, she slipped her school robe off her shoulders and transfigured it into a huge red towel with a golden Gryffindor lion rampant in the center. Harry's jaw dropped in open admiration as she wrapped him in it and rubbed his arms. "Just like after the Second Task in Fourth Year, remember, Hermione?"
Hermione smiled. "I remember." She grasped his arm and pulled him toward the tree. "Come here, Harry. We need to warm you up." She pushed aside the loose earth and leaves between two large roots to make a small hollow, and there she conjured a small fire of bluebell flames. Harry sat down, stretched out his hands and felt the warmth spread up his arms to his face and chest.
Hermione sat down against the tree and stretched out her legs next to the flames. "Harry, you know you could still make it to the Feast if you hurry."
"I can't face it, Hermione. Can you?"
"No," Hermione said quietly, looking toward the castle. "But did you tell anyone? Professor McGonagall?"
"No," Harry said sheepishly. "Did you?"
"Sort of. Well, not really. All right, fine." Hermione turned to look at him. "Can you cast a Patronus with my wand?"
"I expect so. But I want to see your unicorn again too. We can send a double message."
Harry took the wand from Hermione, stood, and closed his eyes. Finding a happy memory was easy: he simply had to remember his joy at seeing Hermione and Ron well and safe after Voldemort was finally gone. A dazzling thick mist exploded from the wandtip and formed into a magnificent stag, the twelve points of its antlers clearly distinguishable as it raised and lowered its head and pawed the ground. Harry silently conveyed his message while Hermione took back her wand: "Expecto Patronum." The unicorn reappeared, silvery white, shimmering. It joined the stag waiting on the edge of the lake, and the two animals soared gracefully across the surface of the water together.
Side by side, they moved farther and farther away until the two shapes blurred into one. Suddenly a powerful flash of light filled the sky and lit the lake and the shore with the brightness of day.
Hermione gasped and stumbled backward; Harry grabbed her arm to keep her from falling against the tree. "I've seen sheet lightning like this, Harry, but that was gone in a moment. What is it?"
"I don't know. It reminds me a little of the Patronus I cast against the dementors that attacked Sirius. But it did not light up the sky. Not like this. I don't know what's happened. It's beautiful!"
A few seconds later the light began to fade. The purple night returned. In the distance, on the far bank of the lake, Harry and Hermione could now see two small points of light and they watched as the silvery lights moved slowly through the open door and up the great marble staircase of Hogwarts.
"I don't think we have to worry about Professor McGonagall getting the message. Something tells me people will notice when the two of them saunter into the Great Hall," Harry said."And since when is your Patronus a unicorn, Hermione?"
"Actually, this was the first time. I could hardly believe it. It's always been an otter before-even last night, well this morning I guess, when we were attacked by the Dementors. It didn't last long, but it was definitely an otter. I know your Patronus can change, but-"
"Yeah, oh--did I tell you? Remember the silver doe I saw in the woods the night Ron came back?-that was Snape's. His Patronus changed to be the same as my Mum's. Apparently he was in love with her for years."
Hermione gasped.
"I know-disturbing." Harry looked out again toward the castle. He shook himself, then pulled off the towel and handed it to Hermione. "I think I'm dry enough for my shirt now."
Hermione picked it up and handed it to Harry. The moon had fully risen and he was standing in a pool of light.
"Harry," Hermione cried out. "Your scar!"
Harry automatically raised his hand to his forehead.
"No, no. The burn on your chest. From the Horcrux. Over your heart, there." Hermione reached out and touched his chest gently with her fingertips. "It's gone. There's nothing there. Not a trace."
"Can't be," Harry replied. "The skin was still bright red last week, painful to touch."
"But look, Harry. There's no sign at all now." She reached and grabbed his right hand, turning his palm down. "This is the hand, right Harry? With Umbridge?" For almost three years the words `I must not tell lies' had been etched in spindly white letters on the back of his hand. Hermione took his hand in both of hers and stretched the skin taut with her thumbs. "It's gone too," she exclaimed."Harry, where did Wormtail cut your arm?"
Harry stretched out his right arm and turned it palm side up. "On the inside there, above my wrist." Hermione tugged Harry closer to her. They stared at the thin blue-veined skin. The gash had healed long ago, leaving a three-inch scar, but there was nothing there now.
Harry watched Hermione as her eyes flitted back and forth between his hand, his arm, and his chest. When she looked up at him again, he knew she had made a decision.
"Are you going to examine me, Miss Granger?" he teased.
"I think I'd better, don't you?"
"As you wish." He stretched out his arms and nodded, giving her permission to proceed. She reached out again for his right hand. She looked at it much more carefully this time, turning over each finger, his palm and wrist, and the inside and outside of his arm. Satisfied, he took his left hand and repeated the process.
"There's nothing, Harry. Nothing."
"You'd better check the locket mark again though. And there are scars from old Quidditch injuries here, near my shoulder, and here." Harry took her hand and placed it low on his chest, to the right of his navel.
Harry heard her sharp intake of breath as she jerked her hand back as if she'd touched a hot iron.
"All right," Hermione said. "Stand still and let me see." Using both hands, Hermione started with his shoulders and worked down to his collarbone, to his chest, touching him gently with the pads of her fingers, feeling constantly for the raised skin of a scar, a blemish, any imperfection. Harry closed his eyes at her touch, so soft, so determined.
"You're getting into dangerous territory now," Harry said, as Hermione's hands approached his stomach. She looked up in alarm.
Harry grinned: "I'm ticklish."
"Oh, OK. I don't see anything there anyway. What about that Quidditch scar-can you feel anything there?"
Harry touched a patch of skin to the right of his navel. "No, there's nothing. That makes no sense. Try my back then. You should see some old dragon burns."
Harry turned around and Hermione began again, stroking her fingers across his shoulders and down his back, rubbing his spine in small circles wherever she felt an odd indentation. Harry felt the tension slowly leave his body. He closed his eyes, his shoulders sagged, and he let his head drop forward.
"Harry." Hermione took his hand and turned him around to face her. She looked confused, surprised, uncertain. "Harry," she said, her voice just above a whisper, "Your body is perfect."
"Thank you." Harry composed his face in the smuggest expression he could muster.
"No, you prat. Not like that." Hermione swatted his arm. "I mean there are no scars, no burn marks, no rough skin, nothing. What's happened to you?" She raised her eyes to his but then looked farther up, where his forehead was covered by his fringe, still wet and matted from his swim.
Harry answered her unspoken question. "I haven't looked. Haven't been near a mirror for a while," Harry said. "Just do it."
Trembling, Hermione reached out her hand and pushed Harry's fringe back. Her involuntary cry gave him the answer: the scar that had defined him for almost all his life was gone.
A wave of relief swept through Harry so powerful that he lost his balance and stumbled forward. He grasped Hermione's arms to steady himself. Her eyes were wide and shining and he saw himself reflected there. Without dropping his gaze, he lifted her hands, first her left, then her right, and pressed his lips to the inside of her wrist in joy and gratitude.
He felt his knees about to buckle so his sat down awkwardly next to the blue flames that were still burning brightly. Silently, he pulled on his shirt as Hermione joined him by the tree.
"What do you think it means?" Harry asked.
"I don't know. But Harry-your hair has changed too. It's straight and flat and not tangled. I didn't notice until I touched your fringe just now."
Harry's mind was suddenly flooded with the memories he didn't want to face, memories of his two meetings with Voldemort-and of the time in between. He refused to think of that. He closed his mind. He changed the subject.
"So now you know that Ginny was wrong about the tattoo," he ventured. "No dragon, no hippogriff, not even a toad."
"I knew already. I tended the burn from the ring Horcrux when I brought you back from Bathilda's, remember?" Hermione's voice was formal, distant.
"I talked to Ginny," Harry said before he realized what he was saying.
"Oh."
Harry ploughed on. "Do you know that it's been almost a year since I spoke to her? At the wedding. She's a stranger to me, Hermione. It's like I don't know her any more. I never loved her, I know that now. I know what love is. I know what it feels like. I know the joy and wonder I felt when my parents and Sirius and Remus came out of the Stone and walked with me in the Forest. Their love for me filled my heart and gave me the courage to do what I had to do."
Hermione nodded but then shook her head. "But Harry, that's a different kind of love."
"Yes, but shouldn't my feelings for the girl I love be stronger than what I feel for my parents? Hermione, when I went to talk to Ginny in the Common Room, she just grabbed onto me and sobbed. I've never seen Ginny cry before. She was crying for Fred and for Bill and for Remus and Tonks--and for me, I suppose. I was glad I could comfort her. But all I felt for her was pity. And guilt--because after a while, as she clung to me and talked about all she had suffered, I just wanted to get away. And she knew. I think she knew it even before, when I passed her by and went to you and Ron after…after it was all over."
An enormous toad chose that moment to leap toward Harry's foot that was nearest the fire. It fixed its huge eyes on Harry and croaked with great conviction.
"Well hello there. Looking for company?" Harry asked.
"Harry, it's Trevor. Trevor-Neville's toad. He must be ancient now."
"Should we try to catch him and bring him back then?"
"I don't think so. Neville told me that he had set him free a few months ago, when they began their resistance campaign."
"So Trevor is free now."
"Yes, Harry, he is." As if in confirmation, Trevor croaked, turned, and hopped back to the edge of the lake.
[End of Part 1]
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