Harry didn't know what day it was or what was happening, all he knew was that he received seven more patronus messages, all in a single day, most of them urging him to get to Hogwarts.
Sev seemed especially pissed off.
"You will get your arse to Hogwarts immediately, you damned insolent brat."
If Sev was cursing, he was pissed.
Susan was upset-
"Harry, please. Luna needs you."
Luna didn't need Harry in person. Whatever had Luna upset would probably be related to the war, so what Luna needed was for Harry to end it.
Blaise sent Harry a message, asking where he was, if he wanted reinforcement, and to contact him if he could.
"I can help you, tell me where to meet you at."
Fred sent three messages, all with the same general sentiment-
"I love you. If you can come back to me, do it. Don't do your last bit without at least telling me first. You won't be sparing me any pain, you'll just make it worse."
"I know you're alive, I can feel it. I love you. If you can come home, do it. If you can't, I'll wait until you can."
"It was a bad day, darlin. I love you."
Harry had sat in his little corner of the house his parents once owned and replayed that message over and over in his head.
A part of Harry missed Fred. He missed his warmth, his optimism, and the love he radiated so freely. Another part of Harry knew that it was better for them to be apart… at least until the end. Harry owed Fred that much.
Theo was the only one who didn't urge Harry to return with his patronus.
"Stay wherever you are until it's time. We'll be at Hogwarts when you're ready."
It was either ironic or karmic, Harry could never remember which was which, that Harry spent three years on his own as a child without a single person looking for him. But after less than three months, everyone seemed to be upset that Harry wasn't there.
In Harry's opinion, they were going to have to get used to his absence anyway.
Harry had Stevie keeping track of how many days they had until he needed to use the stone to call for Barty again. When they got down to three days left, Harry had the cottage entirely restored, he'd played around with Flamel's rock and turned quite a few metal nails into gold, and Harry had finished the last of his letters to his friends. There was one letter left, but Harry was holding off on writing it.
"We need to go back to my house," Harry told Stevie as he rolled up the letter to Draco and tucked it in his newly unburied box.
Stevie hissed out a sound that had to be the snake version of a groan. The damned lazy snake was stretched out over the windowsill of the room where Harry tended to sleep at and was warming his black scales in the sunlight.
"It's cold out there and warm in here," Stevie hissed. "Why would we leave?"
"I left something there that I need," Harry told him impatiently. "You're coming with me and you will attack if anyone is there."
Stevie flicked his tongue out thoughtfully.
"And I can eat them?" he asked.
Harry rolled his eyes and then impatiently summoned Stevie, something he knew the snake hated almost as much as Harry hated standing around and arguing with a bloody snake.
"Yes, then you can eat them," Harry told him. He tossed his cloak over them both and then turned on the spot, making one last trip to Invisibility Way.
As soon as Harry landed in his old bedroom he had to scream at Stevie to not actually eat the person sitting on the foot of Harry's bed. Not yet, anyway.
Harry pulled up a handful of deadly green magic and held his hand out to aim it at Neville. Or, a person who looked like Neville. When all of Harry's enemies were magic, nothing was off-limits as a trap.
"Who are you?" Harry demanded. 'Neville' scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion.
"I've got no idea what you just said," Neville said. "Try again in English, please?"
Harry blinked. He actually hadn't realized that he'd been speaking Parsletongue. And once he thought about it, he realized he hadn't spoke English since the day he killed Alexander.
Harry cleared his throat and tried to not feel stupid in the face of a possible enemy.
"Who are you?" Harry asked again, in English that time.
"Neville Frank Longbottom," Neville answered immediately. "I'm a seventh year Gryffindor and we first met in Diagon Alley. I can't produce a full patronus, but yours is a Tasmanian Devil. My birthday is the day before yours and for your first birthday that we were friends, I sent you a token of our alliance and you sent me a book on plants."
Harry dropped his hand and nodded. That would be a lot of things for a death eater to know about Neville.
"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, ignoring Stevie's disappointed complaints about not being able to eat Neville.
Neville pushed himself to his feet and Harry was suddenly struck by how old Neville looked. When Harry saw him last, before he went to Hogwarts with the others, Neville still had some of his boyish looks in his round cheeks and shy smiles. Neville's cheeks were thinned out, by grief and stress, it seemed, and there was no hint of a smile on Neville's face at all. It was as if Neville went from child to adult in the last few months.
Maybe all the others had as well.
Harry had never been a child though, not really. He used to resent that, but he was glad for it then. Harry had nothing to mourn. Harry never had to lose some innocent idea everything would work out for the best because Harry knew right from the beginning of his life that it wouldn't.
Harry used to think he'd die in the streets, it wasn't as if he ever planned on living a terribly long life anyway.
"Draco's dead," Neville said flatly with no emotion at all in his eyes or his voice. He stood silently while Harry processed that for a moment.
Draco had been a child when he went back to Hogwarts as well. And now… now he'd never truly become a man.
"Luna knows?" Harry asked, his own voice empty of emotion.
Harry was too numb to mourn another fallen friend.
"She does," Neville confirmed. "Everyone's at Hogwarts now. We cleared out anyone on the wrong side and it's ours now."
"Good," Harry said with a short nod. Tactically, it was a smart move. Hogwarts was literally a fortress and if Sev moved everyone there then he must believe it was the safest place to be.
"You're not joining us, are you?" Neville asked perceptively. Neville had always been perceptive, probably one of the most perceptive in the gang. Harry knew from first train ride together that Neville was the most level-headed of the group and that he picked up a lot just by keeping his mouth shut and listening to others.
"I'm not," Harry agreed. "I've got another job to do."
"Let me come with you," Neville said. "I can help."
Harry grinned crookedly and looked Neville over from his messy hair clear down to his boots that were constantly caked in dirt.
"Better if I go at it alone, yeah?" Harry said lightly. "People tend to die when I stick around too long."
"People die when you don't," Neville pointed out. "You don't have to tell me what you're doing, but I'm going to ask you for a favor and in return I'd like to help you, Harry."
Harry tilted his head to the side curiously. It was a heavy thing to ask Harry for a favor, as all of the gang knew. For Neville to stand in front of Harry with his shoulders squared beneath his crimson jumper must mean it was something important to him.
"Everyone told me that George was going to die after Azkaban," Neville said, getting to it when it was obvious that Harry wouldn't beg to be asked for another favor. "Even Molly said that Snape told her she needed to come say goodbye."
"If you say so," Harry shrugged. The days after blowing up Azkaban were rather fuzzy in Harry's memory.
"But you saved him," Neville said with an intense look in his eyes. "Right?"
"He's not exactly fuckin' happy about it," Harry said coolly, irritated once more by Fred's brother.
Neville waved an impatient hand, once more raising Harry's curiosity.
"Blind and in a wheelchair is better than a lot of folks get," Neville said intently. "Harry, mate, please, I need you to go to St. Mungo's and try to heal my parents."
Harry kept an impassive look on his face while he tried to remember what was wrong with Neville's parents.
Crucio until their brains melted? Something like that… That was why Barty had been in prison with Bellatrix and her husband. Harry watched the trial when he'd used Barty's misery to convince Neville that he was innocent.
Harry still had no idea if Barty was truly innocent or not and he didn't want to know.
"Why now?" Harry asked Neville. It was odd timing to ask Harry in the middle of a war to go pop by a hospital and try to heal two people who had been insane for nearly as long as Neville had been alive.
Neville stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets and lifted his shoulders up.
"Because I think you're the only one who can do it," Neville said. "And I think… I think you're not planning on being here when this ends."
As Harry thought before, Neville was most perceptive of the gang.
"So you want me to just try and heal them?" Harry asked without confirming or denying Neville's claim.
"And…" Neville's entire body shivered before he raised his chin high in a stubborn look that Harry didn't see from him often. "And if you can't, I- I need you to kill them."
"You're joking," Harry said, shocked at Neville's request. Nobody ever asked Harry to kill their family members, except for Theo, but his dad was a fucking monster.
Neville's eyes were perfectly clear, aside from the few tears that glistened at his lower lids.
"I'm not," he said confidently. "All I've been thinking is how they could be tortured and hurt through all this. And for what? So they can sit in a hospital for the rest of their lives? No more living than victims of the Dementor's Kiss? No." Neville shook his head, sending one tear to fly loose. "They- they deserve to go on.
"Do you believe in the afterlife, Harry?"
"I… yeah," Harry said after a moment. "I don't 'believe in it', I know it's real, don't I? My mum said so."
Neville didn't question how Harry spoke with his dead mum, he just nodded his head in slow agreement.
"I have to think it's real," Neville said quietly. "I have to think that everyone we lost is somewhere better. They're safe and happy, watching over us, spending time with the ones they loved." When Neville looked up at Harry again, he was crying freely. "My parents deserve that, Harry. I wouldn't ask you if I thought there was any life for them here, but if you can't heal them then nobody can."
Harry tilted his head curiously at Neville. It was flattering that he thought Harry was their last hope, but frustrating that he would ask Harry to kill them if he failed.
"You don't think it's a bit fucked up to ask me to kill your parents?"
Neville stared Harry dead in the eyes when he answered him.
"I wouldn't be the first one in the gang whose parents you killed, would I?" Neville asked evenly. "It's not murder, mate. It's… it's mercy."
"Then why don't you do it?" Harry asked. "If it's a mercy, why can't you?"
Neville's lower lip wobbled and Harry tried to hold back his irritation. If Neville wanted them dead, then crying about it wasn't doing him any fucking good.
"I can't look in their eyes and take away their life," Neville said in a choked whisper. "Even if I think it's the right thing, the best way to keep them safe and give them some damned peace, I know I can't do it myself."
That was weak, in Harry's opinion. Neville thought it was the right thing to do but he'd make Harry be the one with the blood on his hands?
Harry didn't get a lot of requests for mercy murders though and he figured he didn't have some happy ending in the sky waiting for him anyway.
"Fine," Harry agreed shortly. "Tell me where they are."
It took a little bit of planning, but Neville had arrived prepared. Harry got the information on his parents were, a set of Neville's clothes, and two doses of Polyjuice that Neville had already added his hair to.
Harry would rather not spend a couple of hours disguised as Neville, but he was probably going to ask Neville for a heavy favor when he returned so he didn't mind doing an easy one for him then.
St. Mungo's had a quiet air inside that Harry was certain they didn't have when he'd been a patient there before. There were no healers chatting in the corridors or patients with daft injuries waiting to be healed.
There was one witch that asked Harry for identification and he handed over Neville's wand as proof. When the witch returned it, Harry followed the signs to the Janus Thickey Ward.
It was just as easy to find the Longbottom room as Neville said it would be. There was a single healer at the desk on their ward that waved Harry inside as soon as he saw him.
Harry wondered how often Neville visited his parents for everyone to instantly recognize him. Harry probably should have asked him at some point in their long friendship, but it was too late to truly be curious about it.
Neville's parents were sitting at a little four-person table when Harry entered and woman, Alice, smiled brightly at Harry as soon as she saw him. They looked… They looked terrible, truthfully. They had a wasted appearance as if their bodies had entirely given up while their eyes were wide and hollow things.
Alice started jabbering at Harry and waving her hands around, but Harry couldn't understand a single word she said.
"Don't move," Harry told her when she made to stand up. It would be best if the woman was already sitting because Harry had no fucking idea what he was about to do. Harry spared Neville's dad a quick glance and saw that the man was squinting at him in obvious confusion.
Harry didn't know if that was a common look for him or if something inside Frank Longbottom recognized that Harry wasn't his son.
Either way, Harry needed to get the job done and get the hell out before someone informed the Ministry that Neville Longbottom was inside the hospital.
"Don't move," Harry told Alice again as he dropped to his knees beside her chair. "I'm going to try something, yeah?"
Alice made no indication that she understood him, but she wasn't moving as she watched Harry with her empty eyes.
Harry reached up and put both his hands on top of Alice's frail blonde hair and closed his eyes.
Heal her. Take the damage in her brain and heal it. Heal her.
Harry pushed as much magic from the warm spot in his chest down through his hands as he could. Even when Harry thought he had nothing left to give, he pushed a little more. Harry gave Neville's mother as much magic as he could while he imagined her eyes gaining a spark of life and Neville getting to embrace her.
And when Harry pulled his hands away from Alice's face, he saw it had been pointless.
The damage was either too severe or there was just nothing there to heal. Everyone expected miracles from Harry, but he was just as limited in some ways as any other witch or wizard.
"I tried," Harry whispered to Alice, needing just one person to understand.
Harry tried and he tried and he tried. Harry planned his death for everyone else and kept making plans to appease everyone else. If it were up to Harry, he would have drove the basilisk venom infused sword through his forehead months ago, the day he had to bury Trent, and call it a day.
But no. Harry kept making plans for everyone else to be safe. Nobody gave a damn that Harry had torn himself apart for his brother, his goddaughter, his husband… they'd only care that Harry was failing.
Everyone said 'I don't want to lose you, Harry', but they also said 'kill Timmy, Harry', 'heal my parents, Harry', 'bury your friends, Harry'.
Harry looked up when hands that were softened with premature wrinkles cupped his face gently. Alice was smiling so kindly at Harry and he closed his eyes when she leaned in to press a sweet kiss to the center of his forehead.
"I hope you find your friends," Harry whispered to her. "I hope you can find my mum and tell her I'm so fuckin' sorry. Tell my dad it would have been brill to fly together, yeah?"
Alice bobbed her head in a nod and Harry felt his nose burning with misery he wouldn't show when he put a light hand on Alice's shoulder to guide her to her bed.
"I'm so sorry," Harry breathed, unsure who his apology was to. He helped Alice lay down and covered her with a quilt before leading Frank to his bed and doing the same for him.
When Harry turned back to Alice, she had her hand out with something for him to take.
"Thank you," Harry said softly, looking down at the gum wrapper in his hand. Harry looked directly in Alice's eyes when he pocketed it. "Don't cry, please."
Harry ignored the way that Alice looked so damned much like Neville and how Frank's smile was identical to Neville's. All Harry thought about was that Neville's parents were just as dead as Harry's were, they were just stuck in shells walking around without their minds or memories.
Harry touched Alice on the shoulder first and stared at her brown eyes when he pushed out a wave of magic that drained the light from her eyes instantly. Harry carefully reached over to close her eyelids before turning to Frank.
There was a tear in the corner of Frank's eye and he reached out for Harry.
Harry told himself that some part of Frank knew that Harry was there as a mercy, not as a punishment.
When Harry left the hospital ward, the two Longbottoms were on their side-by-side beds, both dead and hopefully finding Harry's parents in the afterlife.
Neville was still sitting on Harry's old bed with Stevie when Harry returned.
"You couldn't heal them," Neville said brokenly as he stared at an exact replica of himself. "You'd be smug if you could."
"I tried," Harry said honestly. Harry didn't try and heal Frank, he'd been attacked before Alice so his damage would have been worse anyway.
And if it was Harry, Harry wouldn't want to live without Fred anyway.
"I'll be back," Harry said. He could give Neville some time to cry and breakdown in private, Harry still had his tombstone he needed to fetch from the attic.
Harry left Stevie with Neville while he walked down the corridor to get to the linen closet. There was a trapdoor to get in the attic above the top shelf and Harry was hopeful that whoever wrecked his house didn't go looking up in a dusty old crawl space.
Luck was on Harry's side for first time in what felt like a year. Harry's tombstone was still up there with the engravings Harry had done after he purchased it.
Harry James Potter-Snape-Black July 31 1980 -
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I
will fear no evil.
There was more to the quote that Harry chose from a brochure of ideas that came with the tombstone, but Harry had liked that one ending right where it was.
Harry feared no evil; Harry feared no one and nothing… not anymore.
What could be worse than the things Harry had done?
Harry lugged the tombstone back to his room and was relieved to see that Neville wasn't crying as much anymore. There were still fat tears leaking down his cheeks, but he wasn't sobbing.
"What's that?" Neville asked.
"My tombstone," Harry said. He turned it so Neville could see. "See this blank spot?" Harry pointed at where his date of death should be. "It's your job to add it when I'm gone."
Neville didn't ask any questions, he only nodded.
"And you can bury your parents with Mione and Barty at Spinner's End," Harry offered. "They'll… tell them to bury Draco there too, yeah?"
"They're going to as soon as it's safe," Neville said softly. He looked miserable when he looked in Harry's eyes. "You're sure you have to die?" he asked.
"I'm sure if I'm not killed that the other one won't die," Harry said. He forced himself to look casual and unaffected when he grinned. "Be glad it was me and not you in that prophecy."
At thirteen, Harry never would have traded places with Neville. With a deadline breathing down Harry's neck and no more moves to make, Harry wasn't sure he wouldn't trade if he could.
Sure, he'd be crap at magic, but everything else would be better.
"I'm sorry." Neville abruptly grabbed Harry and pulled him in for a tight hug with Harry's tombstone pressing on both their legs between them. Harry tensed and then relaxed when he breathed in Neville's familiar earthy scent.
"Don't be," Harry told him roughly. "Listen, when it's all over, ask Sev for my last gift to him, yeah? It's important, Nev. Finish my tombstone, get the gift from Sev. You'll- you'll be glad."
It would be Neville's first chance to ever actually talk with his parents and he could absolve Harry for their deaths. Harry didn't like the idea that Alice Longbottom would be floundering around in the afterlife, wondering why Harry took her life.
Harry wouldn't let Neville go with him when he left, but he also didn't wipe his memory of seeing Harry. Neville said he wouldn't tell anyone where he'd been, he'd just say he went to see his parents. Harry wasn't sure if he believed him or not, but Harry wasn't planning on sticking around Invisibility Way anyway.
Harry sat down to rewrite his letter to Draco that night when the stars were shining and Harry couldn't sleep…
Dray,
I'm all out of deep words to say to dead friends. I wish I could say I'd take care of Luna and your parents, but we both know that it's not really in the cards for me.
If I can, I will.
I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you. Neville said you died a hero, which some people apparently like being told. I wish you would have lived as a coward though. You died for Ginny? Ginny Weasley? Dray… It's a bit too late now, but you should have let her die.
I hope you're happy wherever you are. Hug Mione and Trent, I'd say I'll see you soon but you probably know by now that I won't be meeting you there.
I wish you were here and I was there. You'll always be my favorite cousin.
Love, Harry
Harry made a note in his letter to Tonks asking her to place the letter in Draco's coffin when they buried him.
With only one letter left, Harry swallowed hard and put his quill to parchment one more time…
Dear Sev…
*****
On what Harry assumed would be the last day of the war, he watched the sunrise from the window of his old nursery.
"This is it," Harry whispered to Stevie. "Can you feel it? It feels like the end."
"I feel nothing," Stevie hissed quietly.
It didn't matter. Harry could feel it.
Harry toyed with the stone in his hands and reminded himself that he had to do it. He couldn't push it off, he couldn't wait around like an arsehole. Draco died waiting on Harry to end the war.
One turn…
Two…
Harry closed his eyes and held his breath.
Three…
"You have access to mountains of gold and yet you choose to wallow in the ruins of your parents' home?"
Harry opened his eyes and saw not just Barty, but a bloke that he didn't know as well. The bloke was just as dead as Barty with his washed out 'not quite alive' coloring and he stood a little taller than Harry with dark black curls, almond-shaped eyes, and an arrogant tilt to his chin that looked familiar.
"Who the fuck are you?" Harry asked bluntly.
The bloke smirked at him and offered a hand that Harry didn't even pretend to consider shaking.
"Regulus Black. It's a pleasure to meet you, truly. I'm a big fan of your murderous spirit and your absolute lack of ethics or morals."
As soon as Regulus said his last name, Harry could see little bits of Sirius in his features. Their eyes, their chin, even their voices were similar. Not that Harry really cared though, since he'd only wanted Barty.
"Frank and Alice send their love," Barty said when Harry looked at him. He grinned when Harry snapped his mouth shut since Barty immediately answered Harry's first question. "I was threatened to tell you to tell Neville to stop torturing himself, he made the right call. They're happy now with their friends and they aren't in pain anymore. They hate me, of course, but I think it's better now that I offered to play owl for them."
"Brill," Harry drawled, only caring a little about Neville's parents. "And Draco?"
"My cousin has taken up residence in my house," Regulus said with a pleased look on his young face. "I think once the shock of being dead wears off in a year or two that he'll begin to enjoy the afterlife. It's a pity that you won't be joining us. Draco was quite surprised by your—"
"I don't care," Harry cut him off. Harry wasn't sure why Sirius' dead brother came when all Harry wanted was Barty, but Harry didn't need to hear how brilliant the afterlife was, not when he would never see it for himself.
It was like the cafes that Harry used to walk past as a kid. Seeing all those fresh baked foods? Watching people buy more treats than they could possibly eat while Harry's stomach ached from hunger pains?
Harry avoided walking past those places just as he'd rather not hear about how great it was to die and go on to some brilliant life with everyone else.
"Did you find the tiara?" Harry asked Barty.
"I didn't, he did." Barty tilted his head toward Regulus. "And then he clung to me so he could brag about it himself."
Harry took a very deep breath while he reminded himself that he probably couldn't curse a ghost before turning toward Regulus with a clenched jaw.
"The tiara?" Harry asked tightly.
"It's actually quite lucky that Draco died, you see, because that was how I found it." Regulus bounced on the balls of his feet some and Harry wondered how old he'd been when he died. He looked young, around Harry's age, but so did Barty and Harry knew Barty had been in his thirties when he died.
"After Draco was killed by the Dark Lord, an honor, I've assured him, I began to watch his friend, Ron. I attempted to watch Luna, but her tears were annoying. And it was fortunate I watched Ron because I was able to see when he entered the room in the castle—"
Harry's breath caught in his throat. The castle? Had the horcrux been in the castle the entire time?
"What do you call it?" Regulus waved his hand around while he searched for the word. "Ah! The Hidden Room? That was where the tiara was."
Harry felt conflicting emotions hit him hard enough to cause him to stagger back a step.
Relief, it had been found.
Horror, it had been found.
And then confusion, when Harry worked through what Regulus said.
"'Was'?" Harry repeated. "What do you mean that's where it was?"
"Hm? Oh, I suppose the ruins of the tiara are still in the ashes of the room, but Ron destroyed it," Regulus said airily, as if it wasn't fucking important.
"It's gone!" Barty cried with a wide smile. "Once you destroy the cup—"
"Then you can see if you can actually convince Severus to cast the killing curse on you or not," Regulus said. "Your father says Severus won't, I say he will. We have quite the betting pool happening with our acquaintances."
"Fuck off," Harry snarled at him. "It's so funny, yeah? Betting on if Sev will have to kill me or not? What are his choices, huh? WHAT ARE MINE?"
Regulus wasn't cowed by Harry's screaming, he just raised a mocking eyebrow at him.
"You've made your choices, haven't you?" he drawled sarcastically. "They're quite interesting. I'll be holding my breath to see how it all plays out."
Harry grit his teeth together in anger and once again reminded himself that he couldn't curse a dead man. Instead, he focused solely on Barty while he squeezed the stone in his hands.
"You're sure the tiara is destroyed?" Harry asked.
Barty nodded, "Positive. Fiendfyre will destroy the cup too."
"Brill." Harry dropped the rock abruptly and flexed his hand. Barty and Regulus disappeared at once and Harry was once again left alone.
Not for long though.
There was a heavy weight in Harry's stomach, something cold that was going to make him sick if he didn't move.
"Stay here, guard my stuff. I'll be back," Harry told Stevie. Harry snatched the stone off the floor and carefully put it inside the box of his belongings, along with his cloak. The box itself was pressed against the wall with Harry's tombstone behind it.
"Where are you going?" Stevie asked.
Harry couldn't let the weight of what he had to do stop him. He'd prepared as much as he could, it was time to finish it.
"I'm going to find Sev," Harry said in English, just to himself. "And then I'm going to have him kill me."
It wasn't until Harry stepped outside of the cottage and heard nearby carolers and church bells ringing that he realized the date.
Sev was wrong then, it wasn't just Halloween that was cursed. It seemed as if Christmas was as well.