MetaFic

It was, Harry thought, becoming a bit ridiculous how much time he and his friends spent in the hospital wing.

The Ministry officials had evacuated them from the ambush to Hogwarts by bringing in witches and wizards who were skilled enough to double Apparate. The survivors were taken to Hogsmeade, where a series of carriages waited to take them up to the school. Harry had reluctantly given Ginny over to Kingsley Shacklebolt for transport to Hogsmeade. When Harry and his Apparation partner arrived immediately after Ginny and Shacklebolt, he had taken the unconscious Ginny and refused to let her go until she was safely in the Hogwarts infirmary.

Harry looked around the room. Ginny seemed to have it the worst of all the survivors. She lay on the bed, pale and breathing shallowly. Madam Pomfrey assured him that by morning she would be able to go to her own dorm and by Thursday she would be able to attend classes.

Harry himself had been lightly struck by a severing charm, which had damaged some of the tendons and muscles in his left arm. The strain of carrying Ginny around had caused further damage. Madam Pomfrey repaired him in just under three minutes.

Luna had been knocked unconscious and suffered a concussion when the car she was riding in flipped. Neville had taken her to safety, and then rejoined the battle. Neville was unable to see out of his right eye, which had been struck by a stray curse, and his left foot had been shattered at some point, though he didn't know when. Ron had burns down his left side from his duel with Goyle senior and Darien Rosier, the younger brother of the late Evan Rosier. Ron told Harry that though Rosier escaped, he had knocked Goyle out early, and the Ministry had him in custody. Hermione was limping from the affects of a severing charm on her left leg, and had aggravated her previous injuries. She now lay on her bed, facing the wall and not speaking. Ron told Harry that she was upset about assisting Bill in slaying the giant.

Arthur Weasley had come to talk to him when Madam Pomfrey took Ron to be treated. Harry had expected the senior Weasley to be angry with him over Ginny and Ron's injuries, but Arthur had only made sure Harry was reasonably intact, and then told him that Dumbledore wanted to speak to him in his office. When Harry asked about causalities, Arthur told him that Dumbledore would brief him.

With a final glance at his sleeping girlfriend, Harry made his way to the Headmaster's office. He passed Professor Snape, who had simply glared at him, and the Grey Lady, who turned and followed him curiously until the Stone Gargoyle admitted Harry into the Headmaster's office. Professor Dumbledore was not in his office yet, but Fawkes trilled cheerfully at him, so Harry walked over and scratched the Phoenix under the chin.

"Hullo, Fawkes," Harry said. "I hope your summer's been going better than mine."

The magical bird sang softly, lowering it head.

"Yeah, there's a lot going on," Harry looked around the room. The damage he had caused at the end of last term was still apparent. "So many things to set right," he said quietly, withdrawing his wand. Twenty minutes of work repaired most of the items. Those few that remained broken stayed that way because Harry had no idea how they went back together. Harry turned as the door opened.

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore stepped into his study. Harry looked closely at the old wizard. Dumbledore was thinner than Harry remembered, his great white beard looked a bit dingy, and there was a slump in his shoulders that Harry had never seen before.

"Ah, Harry, I had hoped you would be here when I arrived. Please, have a seat." Dumbledore conjured a large squishy chair. "Would you like something to eat or drink?"

"Tea would be nice, sir," Harry said simply.

Dumbledore conjured two cups of tea, and settled behind his desk. "Where would you like to begin?"

Harry took a sip of tea and tried to stay calm. "Casualties and injuries?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Very well, the difficult things first. I'm sure you know the condition of your schoolmates, since you've just come from the infirmary. As for the others in your caravan, I'm afraid the news is not good. Of the eleven Ministry hit wizards and drivers in your group, nine are dead, and the other two in serious condition at St. Mungo's. Bill Weasley and Miss Tonks both suffered minor injures. Kingsley Shacklebolt you saw at the evacuation. His injures are also minor, and he is currently at the Ministry. Professor Lupin's injuries are more extensive, but the healers assure me he will be up and about in a day or two. I am sad to report that Charlie Weasley's condition is more serious. At this time, he is alive, but--" Dumbledore paused for a moment. "I'm sorry Harry, but I must tell you that Professor Moody is dead, as is Mundungus Fletcher."

Harry nodded. "I saw the blow that killed Moody. What happen to Fletcher? Professor Lupin saw him in the road."

"At that point he was already deceased. When he went missing, we feared that Voldemort had captured him, but our sources in Voldemort's camp reported no sign of him. I assumed he was dead. Unfortunately, we were wrong, for he had been captured. He was apparently tortured, and eventually must have told them that Tintagel was one of our back up locations."

Harry nodded. "I'm sorry, Professor. I know they were your friends."

"And I'm sorry as well, Harry. I should have been there to help you, but my attention was elsewhere."

Harry stood and walked over to one of the windows. He looked out into the slowly gathering gloom. "What else happened?"

"There was an attack at the Ministry, led by Rabastan LeStrange. It was a feint I'm afraid, to draw attention away from the main attack which was on your group. LeStrange led a band of young former students of both Hogwarts and Durmstrang. He personally was disguised as Voldemort, so the Ministry sent out an emergency call to my office."

"How bad?" Harry whispered.

"Several Ministry officials were injured, but there were no deaths. LeStrange escaped capture. I must also tell you that there were also scattered attacks around the country. Several Muggle born witches and wizards were killed."

"Is there any good news?" Harry asked.

"The Hogwarts Express is two hours away, and Professor Flitwick reports no activity of any kind."

"That's something anyway," Harry whispered again. He looked toward Hogsmeade, which was visible from the vantage point of the Headmaster's study. "Professor, there are several small lights around Hogsmeade."

"Yes, Harry. Those would be campfires."

"Campfires, sir?"

"Refugees from the attacks, Harry, they've come to Hogsmeade looking for safety. They hope to flee to Hogwarts should the fighting come this way."

"They'll be a tempting target for Voldemort," Harry said.

"Yes," agreed Dumbledore. "I'm afraid they will prove too tempting. The Ministry is doing all it can to protect and shelter them."

Harry sighed. "Was it like this in the first war?"

"No," Dumbledore told him. "Tom has stepped up the tempo of his attacks. It is a sign of his fear."

"How so?"

"He still does not know what the prophecy says. He is afraid, Harry, afraid of you."

Harry was silent for several minutes. Finally, he voiced the thoughts in his head. "I killed two wizards today, professor," he said quietly, leaning his head against the cool glass of the window.

"I know," Dumbledore said simply. "Would you care to explain to me what happened?"

Harry took a deep breath. He walked back to the chair and sat across form Dumbledore. Looking at the front of the Headmaster's desk, Harry spoke. "I thought Lucius Malfoy had killed Ginny. She was just lying there, staring at nothing, blood running out her nose."

"And in your pain and grief, you struck out."

"Yes, sir." Harry swallowed. "I didn't even think, I just turned and cast the first curse that came to my lips."

"Incendio."

Harry nodded. "I don't know why I chose that spell. Then–then it exploded from my wand, and Malfoy and Dolohov just burst into flames." Harry swallowed again. He looked up at the Headmaster. "Sir, have you ever killed anyone?"

"Yes, Harry, I have been responsible for the death of another by my own hand."

"How did you stand it afterward?" Harry let his pent up tears fall. "How are we, how am I, different from someone like Malfoy or Voldemort?"

"You never forget, Harry, and you hope you never have to do such a terrible thing again. This is how you, I, or any other decent witch or wizard who is forced to spill blood, are different from those of Tom Riddle's ilk. Unlike those dark wizards, it never becomes easy for us to take a life, but we do what we must to defend the innocents under our protection."

Harry sat quietly for a few minutes. "I think I understand. Thank you, sir."

"Harry, about Sirius' will–" Dumbledore began.

"Why don't we let that wait for a few days? At least until Professor Lupin's up and about."

"As you wish. I assume you will want to skip the feast this year to be with your friends?"

Harry thought for a minute. "No. I should be at the Welcoming Feast. If any of the others can make it, they should come too. It's just like the Diagon Alley trip, it's important for people see us."

"Do you understand why, Harry?"

Harry nodded. "Because we're symbols. We've survived everything Voldemort had thrown our way."

"Yes, yes, that is true, and a very important part of why you should be at the feast, but more importantly, you, and to a lesser extent, you group, are considered leaders in this school."

Harry's eyebrows furled in thought. "I'm not sure I understand?"

"You will, Harry, you will. Is there anything else I can do for you before the evening festivities?"

Harry looked at his Professor. "Sir, the Incendio charm, when we studied it in Charms, it never came up as a possible spell to use in a fight. But I saw--" Harry paused before continuing quietly. "I saw what it could do to a person."

Albus Dumbledore sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers. He was pleased that Harry had asked this most important question. Now he had to answer it. "The reason that charm is rarely used in duels or combat is because it lacks decisive power. In a duel, its only application is as a distraction. It is sometimes used to set fire to your opponent's cloak."

"But, sir, I saw what it did."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, you saw what that spell, cast by you, under great emotional duress, was capable of." Dumbledore leaned forward. "Harry, most witches and wizards can only use that charm to ignite easily combustible items. For instance, candle wicks, or dry wood. A more accomplished witch or wizard might even be able to ignite wood or clothing that is wet."

Harry looked at the Headmaster with wide eyes. "But I set two people on fire!"

"Yes."

"But–"

"It takes a tremendous amount of power to use that charm in such a manner." Dumbledore leaned back into his chair. "You, Harry, are one such wizard. You can, if I remember correctly, do wandless magic when under great duress, yes?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, sir, I can."

"Harry, most young witches and wizards outgrow such accidental outbursts of magic, usually around the age of nine or so. Their bodies become capable of containing their magical power. To be able to continue to do wandless magic after puberty, even accidentally, is a rare gift that shows an abnormal amount of magical energy."

Harry rolled his eyes and frowned. "Great, I can't even be a normal wizard."

The old Headmaster laughed softly. "Harry, you should know by now there is no such thing as a normal wizard."

Harry shook his head and stood from his chair. "What now?"

"Now, we grieve our losses, then we do the most important thing; we continue with our lives.”

"Yes, sir. I suppose that's all there is to do. I'm going to see if any of the others are able to go to the feast."

"We'll talk again, Harry."

"Thank you, Professor. I appreciate that you've keep me as informed as you can."

"I owe that to you, Mr. Potter. And one more thing. Thank you."

"For?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore waved his hand around the mostly repaired office.

Harry smiled. "Yes, well, I thought I should start somewhere. Good evening, sir."

Harry left the office.

Fawkes glided over to Dumbledore and perched on his desk. He trilled at the Headmaster.

"Yes. Harry has recovered better than I could have hoped. I'm happy that my mistakes did not prove to be insurmountable."

The Phoenix made a purring noise and nuzzled his oldest friend. Dumbledore absentmindedly scratched the magical creature in the head. He took out his watch and checked it carefully. It was almost time.

***

"Come on, Hermione, we're prefects, we have to be at the feast." Ron sat on Hermione's bed. She continued to face the wall.

Harry stood of to one side. He had suggested that they attend the feast. He had pointed out that by being there, it would hopefully stop some of the inevitable rumors, and it would have a positive influence on the other students. Neville and Luna had agreed, and both had gone to their respective dorms to change. Ron had given Neville the password. Luna wondered off, assuring them she would be able to get into her common room.

"I can't, Ron. I just can't face them after what I've done," she said.

Ron placed a hand on her back. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm sorry you had to make such a terrible choice. But that giant killed Moody, and who knows how many others. You had to stop him."

"But we didn't have to kill him, did we?" she whispered.

"Maybe you did. It's tragic and terrible. I wish none of this were happening. I wish all we had to worry about was trying not to flunk school and playing Quidditch. I'd make it all go away if I could."

Hermione rolled over and looked at him through puffy eyes. "I know you would, Ron. I know."

Ron smiled at her. "Then come on, let’s go and show them that we're alive, and we won't be bullied, and we'll protect our own."

Hermione nodded and sniffed. She sat up. "Okay."

"Good," a soft voice rasped out. "Because I don't think I can dress myself, so I'll need your help."

Harry turned to Ginny, who was smiling slightly, her eyes closed. He walked over to her bed and sat down.

"Maybe you should stay here," Harry said.

"No, I want to be there, even if you have to prop me in my chair."

"I'll cut your food and feed you if you want, but I'm not sure you should go," Harry whispered, placing his head near hers.

"Please, Harry, I need to go."

Harry looked around the room. There was an antique wheelchair in a corner. With a flick of his wand it rolled over to him. "Okay, but if Pomfrey catches us, I'm telling her you threatened me."

Harry eased Ginny into the chair. Looking around for the school nurse and not finding her, the four made a break for it. The only real obstacle was the stairs, both in the corridors and in Gryffindor tower, but Hermione handled those with a levitation charm on Ginny's wheelchair.

Ron and Harry went upstairs to find Neville, dressed in his Hogwarts uniform, lying on the bed, trying to catch a little more rest. He opened his one good eye. "How much longer until the feast?"

Harry checked his watch. "The train's still twenty minutes out, if what Dumbledore told me is accurate. I'd guess about an hour or so."

Neville stood. "I'm going to see if Luna's ready. Shall we just meet in the Great Hall?"

Ron nodded. "Sounds good."

The two dressed and returned to the common room. It took the ladies longer, as Ginny really wasn't completely able to dress herself. When they came downstairs, Hermione floating Ginny's chair, Hermione looked thoughtful about something.

The four made their way to the Great Hall where Neville and Luna were waiting. Harry looked from Luna and Neville to the Hall itself, with its banners and tables for each House, its enchanted ceiling, and its raised table for the faculty. An idea was starting to form in his head. He pushed a chair out of the way for Ginny, who wheeled up to the long table next to Harry.

The doors opened again and students started filing in. When the ones in the front noticed the six already in the room, they hesitated for a moment, then entered. When Harry saw Luna break away and move to the Ravenclaw table, he came to a decision.

The first years were shown in and the Sorting Hat sang again about the need to unite in dark times. It stressed that the founders had once been great friends, and from that friendship had sprung Hogwarts. Harry sat thinking about the song as the first years were sorted.

Dumbledore gave a small speech about the rules, informed them that Hogsmeade visits would be fewer and shorter this year due to the dangers, and also told the students as much as he felt was prudent about the goings-on in the real world. He introduced Emmeline Vance as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. As he started to announce the start of the feast, Harry stood.

"Excuse me, sir," he addressed the Headmaster. "I wondered if it would be okay for me to speak."

Dumbledore seemed momentarily taken aback, then he smiled merrily and waved his hand. "I yield the floor to Mr. Harry Potter."

Harry smiled. "Thank you, sir." Harry turned to face the room. He walked down the length of the Gryffindor table, until he reached the end. He looked around at the various House banners and emblems. With a wave of his wand, he banished the physical symbols of each House, replacing them with the Hogwarts crest. There were startled gasps from the students and teachers.

Harry walked to the middle of the room, and took a deep breath to steady himself. "For the second year in a row, the Sorting Hat has admonished us to unite. But we keep hiding ourselves behind our Houses, we keep letting petty jealousies and old scores keep us away from each other." Harry started walking down the tables. "I think tonight of all nights is too important to allow silly rivalries to separate us. The Hat might have put you in Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin, but we are all Hogwarts students. I think tonight, as we gather to celebrate another year of companionship, Quidditch competition, and shared academic misery, that for at least this night we shouldn't let emblems separate us."

Harry found himself in front of the faculty table. "There's no reason that Neville Longbottom, a Gryffindor, and Luna Lovegood, a Ravenclaw, should be forced to separate because they were sorted into different Houses. Why should the Patil's sit away from each other, unless of course they're sick of each other from summer?" Harry smiled as a few people chuckled. "If it's your first year, don't be shy, go find other first years and talk to them. Hogwarts is a big, new place for you. Don't be afraid to seek each other out. Each of you, go introduce yourself to somebody new."

Harry walked over to the Slytherin table, ignoring Pansy Parkinson's death glare. He stopped in front of a dark-skinned boy in his year group and struck out his hand. "Hi, I'm Harry Potter. I know we started the same year, but I've never had a chance to get to know you."

The young man looked at his hand for a moment, then stood, and faced Harry. "I'm Blaise Zabini, pleased to make your acquaintance." The boy spoke in a soft, deep voice.

That was everyone else's cue. Luna stood and walked over to the Gryffindor table, where everyone budged over to leave her room next to Neville. Slowly, the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables seemed to merge, as those two houses had a long-standing friendship. Eventually Ravenclaw got into the act, with most of their students scattering. A handful of Hufflepuffs approached the Slytherin table. Harry looked up to find Hermione talking to a mixed group of first years, as Ron stood behind her and complained to Ernie Macmillan about the midgets, as he liked to call them. Soon almost everyone was chatting cheerfully with old friends or making new ones.

Harry worked around the tables, seeking out students from each house, until finally he sat back down next to Ginny. He leaned over and whispered in her ear. "I promised I'd cut your food."

"And feed it to me to," she giggled.

Headmaster Dumbledore stood and clapped his hands. "Let the feast begin."

The next morning the students awoke in their Houses, in their dorms. Their uniforms still held their House emblems. Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin would still compete on the Quidditch pitch and for the House Cup.

But that morning at breakfast, many students continued to mingle, unconcerned about House affiliation.

Certainly, there were cliques. Certainly there were those from each House who stubbornly held to their own. Some older students were scandalized by the intermingling, but it continued to happen.

It was a pattern that would hold at meals for the entire year.