As Hermione reached the bottom of the staircase from the girl’s dormitories, she saw Ron sitting in one of the comfortable old armchairs by the empty fire grate. He stood up quickly as she approached, suddenly feeling extremely nervous. She had made the first move yesterday, she’d kissed him, and now the embarrassment was making it impossible to meet his eyes. She could feel herself turning pink. Where had her wits gone?

“Hi, Hermione,� he said, trying to sound light. She saw in the dim pre-dawn light that he was blushing slightly too.

“Hi.� She didn’t know what else to say, awkwardly standing several feet in front from him, the distance seeming at once too far and too close. “You’re…not usually up this early,� she said, knowing this after having spent countless mornings in the tent listening to him still snoring away. “But, I guess everyone’s sleeping schedules are off…�

“Yeah,� he said, half-grinning. “I think I just slept a good nineteen hours. And Harry’s still up there…who can blame him.�

She smiled back, and his expression changed, still grinning but also shy. He moved his mouth, but no sound came out. He tried again. “Hermione?�

“Yes,� she said. She had meant to say it as a question, but it came out as a statement, a decisive answer to the question she knew he was about to ask.

Both of them laughed with relief, simultaneously taking a step forward, and for the second time in two days, she couldn’t stop herself from going right up to him and kissing his freckled face. She felt like she was about to burst with happiness.

They might have gone on contentedly snogging forever, but then Hermione noticed that his eyes were rimmed with red--oh… his brother had died. Fred had died. She felt so bad for him, for his family, it was just so awful. “Ron, I’m so, so sorry about Fred.�

“Yeah,� said Ron, his voice breaking. “I’m--sorry, too.� For the first time in her memory, he was crying.

So they went from kissing to both sobbing, sitting in the same armchair, arms around each other. She rested her head on his shoulder, grateful for his presence, until after several long minutes the tears stopped falling and silence reigned.

“Remember us sitting here?� Ron asked, looking around them. “When we were younger? Harry and me playing chess, you reading a book…or all of us doing homework.�

“You begging me for help…� Hermione smirked.

“Yeah…�

Gazing at the old woven rug on the floor, she had a thought. “Remember in sixth year…when you wanted me to help you with an essay, and I finally gave in, and you said…that you loved me?�

“I remember that,� Ron said, turning red but smiling at her. “I did, I mean, I--I have for a long time, since fourth year maybe, only I didn’t know it.�

“I knew I liked you in third year, but…at that point, I told myself it was just a crush, you know, like Lockhart. No! Not like Lockhart, he was an idiot,� she amended, when he pretended to take offense. “But then, there was Krum, and I tried to give up on you…�

“I’m really sorry about that,� he said, looking guilty, and she knew he was remembering their fight on the night of the Yule Ball. She nodded, and they lapsed into silence, both lost in thought. He had been a jerk, sometimes, but he had finally grown up, just like she knew he would.

“You’re going to Australia, then, right?� Ron questioned, out of the blue. She froze, then nodded. He went on, “Because--do you want me to come? I will, if you want me to. But--� he broke off, looking at his knees.

He doesn’t want to miss Fred’s funeral, she realized, and asserted, “It’s fine, Ron. Of course you should be there with your family. I mean it,� she said, and she did, absolutely. “Family’s important.�

“Okay…you’re sure? Completely sure?� he asked, and she nodded emphatically. “Thank you, then. Hope it all goes well when you see them again.�

“I--I hope so too,� she said, faltering.

“I mean--I’m sure it will. Why wouldn’t it?� Ron said, disconcerted.

“Well…after what I did to them…�

“But Hermione, you’re brilliant, of course they’ll be fine,� he assured her, apparently under the impression that she was afraid she couldn’t undo her spellwork.

“That’s not what I mean--I--�

Hermione broke down. She would have been embarrassed about the tears flowing down her face, but somehow there was a trust between them now that made crying okay.

“I Obliviated them! I made them forget their whole lives--everything! I--�

He tried to comfort her. “It’s okay, Hermione. I mean, you had one hell of a good reason to do it. It’s okay, really.�

“But what if--oh, God, Ron, what if they hate me?

“Hermione…shut up,� Ron said gently. “What you did probably saved their lives. You had to do it, they’ll understand.�

“I know. I had to,� Hermione said miserably, still conflicted.

“They’ll understand,� he repeated. “Come on, Hermione! What you did was really brave. And smart. And--I mean, hard. I dunno if I could--if I had to protect my parents--if I’d be able to…� he trailed off, then hugged her tighter, communicating his understanding of her burden--but he admired her for it.

She thought about it, trying to see it the way he did. “I guess…I don’t know…but, they love me. I know they love me. Whatever happened…well…� She took a deep breath. The first rays of dawn were shining in through the window. Voldemort had been dead for one whole day. She had been fully conscious of the possibility that she and her friends would be the ones dead, but that was over now. They would have a future.

“I’m just so glad we’re alive,� she said, suddenly smiling, so full of joy that they had years, decades, remaining for them.

Ron chuckled; she felt his tensed muscles relaxing. “Believe me, Hermione, so am I.�

" " " " " " "

“Harry! You awake ye--oh…�

Ginny and Harry broke apart, both turning to look at Ron, who had just clambered through the portrait hole. “Sorry,� he said sheepishly.

“Nice timing, you prat,� said Ginny forcefully, then slightly regretted it. At least he’d apologized this time.

“It’s okay, you didn’t mean to,� Harry said to Ron, looking half embarrassed and half amused. He let go of Ginny, but kept hold of her hand.

“Um…Kingsley wanted to talk to you…� Ron muttered. Harry looked at Ginny, and she nodded, her annoyance dissipating. He still had plenty of work left; they’d have time later…lots of time.

Ron turned to climb back out the portrait hole, and they followed him, hand in hand, heading down the staircase and navigating the war-torn corridors to the Great Hall. Ginny stared as they passed broken doors, ripped paintings, and piles of rubble. The castle hadn’t lost its familiarity, but it was full of battle scars.

They arrived at the Great Hall, which was full of the orange-yellow glow of early morning. For a second, Ginny’s memory took her back to the previous dawn, how the light from the window had suddenly illuminated Harry’s confrontation as she watched, hardly daring to breathe…

She shook her head and surveyed her surroundings. A few dozen people were eating breakfast at the four tables. She turned involuntarily to look at the spot where the bodies had been, but they had been moved elsewhere. She felt a pang, for Fred--then she realized she didn’t want to see his body again. He hadn’t looked like himself, dead; it wasn’t him, it didn’t have his liveliness.

“Harry!� Kingsley Shacklebolt called from the nearest table. Hermione, who was sitting across from him, turned around to look at the three of them. Ginny wiped her eyes and told herself firmly that she was not going to think about Fred right now.

“Hello, Kingsley,� greeted Harry.

“Hi, Mr. Shacklebolt,� Ginny said, uncertain as to what she should call him and for once deciding it would be preferable to err on the side of caution. He was the Minister of Magic now, and what’s more, a Minister she respected.

As they sat down, Hermione told them, “Kingsley doesn’t think I should use magical transport to get to Australia, because Apparition would be dangerous, and chains of Portkeys make the user badly disoriented. So I guess I’ll just take a plane.� The others nodded. Ginny had a pretty good idea what a plane was; they flew, and had wings, sort of like a gigantic metal bird. Riding one seemed terribly unsafe to her, but she was sure Hermione knew what she was doing.

“Harry,� Kingsley began, “the first thing I would like to say is, thank you. You have done a tremendous thing, for wizards and Muggles alike, and you have everyone’s gratitude for it.�

Harry didn’t know what to say. Ginny gave him a huge smile, and he came out with, “Thanks…I mean, you’re welcome.� She almost laughed. It was incredible, the way he could save people’s lives without a trace of bigheadedness about it.

“I am under the impression that you are, or were, interested in a career as an Auror?�

Harry looked surprised that Kingsley knew, but he nodded. “I was. Er…I still am. And I think--� he glanced at Ron, Hermione, and Ginny--“there are others, too…�

“Yes, of course. Many Aurors have died this past year,� Kingsley said solemnly, “so we will be admitting a large number of new applicants. Harry, you have already been offered a position, and so have you, Mr. Weasley, and you, Miss Granger, if you so wish. And I’m sure that Miss Weasley will be offered a position as well,� he said, smiling at Ginny.

“Thank you, Kingsley,� Harry said, impressed.

“Er--yes, thanks, I’d like that.� Ron grinned.

“Yes. Thank you,� echoed Ginny, remembering a conversation that had taken place several months ago at a D.A. meeting. A good half of the members of Dumbledore’s Army, Ginny included, had said that they wanted to become Aurors once the reign of terror was over. Well, she meant it. There were surely Death Eaters, or sympathizers, out there, and she wanted to fight them so that they could never hurt anyone again.

“I…� Hermione hesitated. “I know it’s a very important job, being an Auror, but I was interested in starting a career in Magical Law--because that’s important too, and it really can make a difference, I’ve always thought.�

“I quite agree,� Kingsley said approvingly. “That can be arranged. And in addition--� he smiled, producing several official-looking papers with his wand--“the Council of Merlin met yesterday, and came to the decision that everyone who fought in the battle yesterday, or otherwise helped to defeat the Dark side, will be awarded an Order of Merlin. They have already spoken to enough eyewitness vouchers to award several dozen Orders of Merlin, and they’ll be awarding more as they receive more information.�

He handed each of the four of them a certificate stamped with a golden (or, in Ginny’s case, silver) Council of Merlin seal. Order of Merlin, Second Class, she read, shocked but pleased--she hadn’t even known underage witches and wizards could get these things. Awarded on May 2, 1998, to Miss Ginevra Molly Weasley, for her heroic actions in the Battle of Hogwarts, including the combatting of dangerous Death Eaters Russell Avery and Bellatrix Lestrange. Her eyes widened as she remembered. She’d managed to Stupefy Avery, but Bellatrix had come pretty effing close to killing her, despite the fact that she’d been taking on Ginny, Hermione, and Luna all at once. Well, Mum took her down. Yeah! she thought proudly.

“They’ll be adding more? Can we give you names?� Ron was saying. “Because, well, there are so many--everyone in Dumbledore’s Army, Aberforth, Griphook, Dobby--and you know all the Order--�

At ‘Dobby,’ for some strange reason, Harry smirked. Ron and Hermione both blushed. Um, what was that about? They’re talking about a brave…and dead… house-elf?

“Certainly, although as I have a lot of things to attend to this morning, I’d prefer that you gave me a written list of people whose heroic actions you can vouch for. And the opposite will also need to be done, so that the Wizengamot will have witnesses for all the trials--if you could write down names of those whose criminal actions you can personally attest to…if you are up to it, I understand completely if you don’t want to,� Kingsley added.

“No, we’ll do it,� Harry assured him. The others nodded.

“Thank you. Ask your friends, as well, please. All right, there’s just one more thing. Harry, what you were saying to Voldemort yesterday…am I permitted to ask what that was about?�

Ginny stared at Harry. What was that thing he had mentioned--it began with an H…

“Yes, I…think so, although I’m not sure…whether the public should know…but, Riddle kept himself alive using Horcruxes--seven of them,� Harry said.

Ginny registered the shock on Kingsley’s normally calm face. She asked, “What are--?�

“Objects containing pieces of his soul,� Harry clarified gravely, meeting her eyes. “The diary was one of them.�

Her jaw dropped--she’d been possessed by a piece of Voldemort’s soul? No wonder it had been so bloody horrible. “So--so that’s what you’ve been doing,� she said to Harry, heart surging with fire; she understood now. He had been taking on more of those murderous Tom Riddles. “You were destroying them, the rest of them.�

“Yeah…that was the task Dumbledore left me to do,� Harry explained. “And it wasn’t just me--Dumbledore destroyed one before he died, and Ron and Hermione each got one, and Neville got one even though he didn’t know what it was…� Harry listed, frowning in thought. “Oh, and Crabbe, completely by accident.�

Ron shot an admiring glance at Hermione when Harry mentioned her name. There was something funny about the way he was looking at her, and the way she was smiling back.

Oh! Ginny realized. So that was why Hermione had been wearing that moony smile when they were going up to bed yesterday morning; at the time, Ginny had been too exhausted to think anything of it. She grinned wickedly. She and the twins were gonna get a kick out of this…

The twins. Damn, she swore silently, scowling at the table as if everything were its fault. Harry broke off in the middle of saying something to Kingsley, watching her with concern. She squeezed his hand, still staring at Ron and Hermione. Well, she decided determinedly, she would just have to tease Ron twice as much to make up for Fred.

" " " " " " "

Luna’s eyes wandered around the Great Hall as she tried to remember exactly what had happened the previous night. She had already written about the Carrows and Ravenclaw tower, and Snape jumping out the window…then everyone gathered in here in their pajamas, she recalled, picking up her quill to jot down a couple of sentences on the piece of parchment in front of her on the table.

Hmm. Voldemort had spoken straight into everyone’s heads, sounding cold and hard, like ice. He must have caught a large number of Wrackspurts, attached his voice into them, and let them loose into the hall. She wrote down what she could remember about the message, something silly about bringing him Harry Potter, adding a note that the only one who voiced her agreement was the Head Girl, who had been shown clearly that everybody else thought that was a very unpleasant thing to say when they turned to face her and drew their wands. Luna hoped that that had made her see sense, or if it didn’t, maybe reading this article would.

She took a bite of her peanut-butter-slathered banana, chewing pensively.

Neville was walking up. “Hi, Luna,� he said shyly. The previous day, he had sat down next to her right after the battle was over. He had obviously wanted to tell her that he loved her, but he’d been too bashful to say it, so they had simply smiled at each other.

“Hi Neville,� Luna greeted, as he sat down next to her. “How are you?�

“Not good--I mean, not bad. Uh, you?�

“I’m alive,� she said cheerfully.

“Thank God, you are,� he murmured, then realized that he’d spoken out loud. “Um, I mean, you know…�

Luna gazed at Neville, at the red tinge spreading on his angular face, and told him, “I may be ignorant since I’m not a Gryffindor, but personally I think you’re being a bit daft…I don’t think talking to a girl is supposed to be a braver thing to do than standing up to the Carrows, or killing a giant snake, or facing Voldemort himself,� her smile growing as she listed the accomplishments of her amazing friend. Or was he her boyfriend now? She knew they weren’t destined to be together, the way Ginny and Harry were, or Ron and Hermione--Neville didn’t dream about finding Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, and he never would. Maybe they were more like friends who loved each other especially much. She wasn’t sure.

“Yeah, well…� he said, grinning.

“Oh, and congratulations on your Order of Merlin, First Class!� she added.

He looked surprised. “Thanks! But, how did you--did Gran tell you?� he asked, motioning across the Hall towards a lady wearing a vulture hat that reminded Luna of the hats she used to make for Quidditch matches.

“Oh, no, I just assumed, I didn’t know they’d given any out yet,� Luna said amiably. She expected that she herself was probably in for a Second or Third Class, which she was pleased about, since it would make Daddy proud, and he’d been having a tough time lately.

“O-kay…I hope they give you one, you deserve one, too. You fought Bellatrix Lestrange,� he said, sounding fierce all of a sudden. “By the way, what’s that?� He glanced at her piece of parchment. “Oh! Is that an article, for your dad?�

“Yes, it is, I expect the fall of Voldemort will be a reasonably big story. Do you mind being quoted?� she asked him.

“Uh, sure. What should I talk about?� he asked, uncertain as to what she meant.

“You already did. Remember? You were talking to Voldemort, and you told him ‘I’ll join you when hell freezes over. Dumbledore’s Army!’� Luna recounted. “I think that’s now my favorite quote out of anything I’ve ever heard.�

Neville’s mouth was open. “Really?�

“Of course really.� She was always honest, unless of course she had to lie to save her friends’ lives, but with any luck that wouldn’t come up anymore. “That was brilliant.�

His blue eyes were shining. “Luna…I’m not nearly as brilliant as you,� he said, and leaned towards her.

She proceeded to make the impromptu discovery that kissing Neville was very nice indeed. He appeared to like it too, so she decided they ought to do it more often.

They finally broke apart, looking at each other, both grinning ear to ear. “You taste like peanut butter,� he said happily.

Boyfriend, she thought.

Hermione had never fancied flying, whether it be on broomstick, thestral, hippogriff, or Muggle mode of airborne transportation. Her stomach was unpleasantly jittery from the airplane, not to mention the thought of what she was finally going to do.

Apparation seemed very unappealing to her at the moment; temporary asphyxiation on top of nausea and nerves. As anxious as she was to get to her parents, as difficult as waiting any longer might be, she just couldn’t get enough control of herself to do anything. The agitation was preventing her from functioning normally. She took a deep breath, but still felt tense, and reluctantly decided to wait awhile and calm down a bit. Legs trembling slightly, she walked outside the airport doors and almost immediately found an old wooden bench, so she sat down, rummaging for a book in the depths of her tiny beaded bag.

After three quick chapters of A History of Magic, Hermione felt much better. She shoved the book back into her bag, stood up, and headed back inside the airport. It was far from crowded, and the few other travelers took no notice of her, but just to be safe she located the ladies’ room and strolled into an empty stall before Disapparating.

For a few moments she spun through a tunnel-like vacuum, and then she stepped out, landing steadily on her feet behind a eucalyptus tree on the edge of a suburban street. Considering that this was in Australia, it didn’t look terribly different from her own neighborhood. Her old neighborhood, she reminded herself. That house had been sold.

She walked down the edge of the road, checking house numbers as she did so: 22, 29… A simple Arithmancy calculation told her that number 43 would be the pretty brick split-level coming up on her right.

The small front yard was green spotted with yellow dandelions, and the garden was well-kept and blooming; she recognized many of the flowers from the garden back home--no, the garden at back at her old home. There was a rocking chair on the little porch, and painted in neat white letters on the front door, right beneath an ornamental gold knocker, was the name “Wilkins.�

Hermione wiped a solitary tear off her cheek, then surreptitiously pulled out her wand, checking to make sure there was nobody on the street to see her. She thought the words Homenum revelio, making a tiny motion with her wand towards the house as she did so, and momentarily felt something warm radiate from the house. Satisfied, she stowed away her wand and rang the doorbell.

A few moments passed. She could hear herself breathing, and told herself what they had always told her--be strong. She watched as a figure appeared in the window by the door. An instant later, a woman with dark hair almost as bushy as Hermione’s opened the door and said, “Hello?� with a smile but not a trace of recognition.

Hermione sadly smiled back, looking at her mother’s uncomprehending face. She took out her wand again and thought Reconsciate! as the woman who thought she was Monica Wilkins watched blankly. Several silent seconds passed as the woman’s eyes regained the bright quality Hermione remembered, and then, for the first time in almost a year, Mrs. Granger saw her daughter.

“Hello, Mum,� Hermione choked, and embraced her mother, who hugged her back just as tightly.

Mrs. Granger’s mouth found words. “Hermione! Oh, my goodness, Hermione, what--why did we--what happened?�

Hermione opened her mouth as if to speak, but before she could find the words to respond, a familiar voice said, “Monica?�

Just as the man with graying brown hair and glasses came into view, Hermione cast the Memory Charm counterspell again. After a few moments his eyes, too, became visibly sharper. “Hermione?� Mr. Granger said wonderingly, and she rushed to hug him too. The three-person embrace was snug, warm, bittersweet, and salty with Hermione’s tears. They weren’t angry with her, she could already tell.

Through her sobs, she answered her mother, “I--I protected you.�

" " " " " " "

Ginny woke up. Actually, she wasn’t sure she had ever really managed to fall asleep. The night had been permeated with what might have been either scary remembrances or nightmares, about the Carrows, about Harry lying dead in Hagrid’s arms, about--

Morning won’t help with that one, she thought, rolling over to push her face into her pillow, which was still wet with tears and snot.

She might have stayed like that forever, but she heard Charlie’s voice calling her name as if from a million miles away.

“Ginny … Ginny … �

He knocked on her door. She sighed, and said through the huge lump that had recently made a home in her throat, “Come in.�

Charlie opened the door, and the sorrowful expression in his usually cheery face made the lump grow, if possible, even bigger. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, and came over and sat on the bed.

She gazed at him out of her brown eyes. For a while nothing was said, because nothing needed to be. She looked around her room for the millionth time, but it was just as it had always been, before--

She shut her eyes. “I don’t want to get up.�

Charlie’s voice said wearily, “Ginny…I know. We’re all like that. But you have to…this is important.�

Important, she thought. If anything had ever been important, this was. She had to get up. She had to pick herself up and walk over to that door.

She looked up. “I can’t.� (Strictly speaking, she could, but she didn’t want to.) She offered her arms. “Pick me up.�

The faint trace of a smile appeared on his face, and he lifted her up and carried her out the door. Any of her brothers would carry her if she asked, although she wasn’t sure she had ever asked Ron. And one of them never will again…

She closed her eyes again and rested her head against her big brother’s shoulder, safe in his strong, scarred arms. She was being jostled up and down a little as he descended the steps. She tried to remember the last time one of her big brothers had carried her anywhere. It had been a few years at least; by third year or so she thought herself too old for it, too dignified to not just walk herself, even when she was tired.

One of the last times had been at the Quidditch World Cup. She had fallen asleep at the little kitchen table in the tent, and Fred had picked her up and carried her into her bed. She had been just conscious enough to say “thanks.� She was so glad now that she had thanked him then.

They reached the bottom of the stairs, where Ginny could see through blurry eyes the rest of her family and Harry sitting at the table. Charlie set her down, and she rubbed her eyes, blindly taking a seat between Percy and Mum at the table.

She noticed that George wasn’t there, but this hardly surprised her. She looked around at the others’ faces, but they were all so full of pain that she directed her gaze at the food instead. Bacon, toast, and oranges. The bacon was burnt, and she could see that the toast had far too much butter on it, but not even Ron was complaining. Nobody was talking at all. The silence was disconcerting.

She sat there for a while, looking at the food but not feeling hungry. Everyone had red eyes, and Mum was crying. Ginny picked absently at the frayed lining of her old cerulean nightgown. One thread. Two threads. She realized what she was doing, and ripped the threads out with a slight yank, accidentally elbowing Percy’s arm as he reached for a napkin. “Sorry,� she half-whispered.

“Oh--it’s fine,� Percy said haltingly. She could hear that he had a lump in his throat too.

She caught Harry watching her, and she stared back at him. She and Mum had both absolutely insisted that he come to stay at the Burrow, for the time being at least. They were the only family he had; he’d said so himself.

Dad stood up, his chair making a loud noise against the wooden floor. He started to clear dishes, and Percy and Harry got up to help him. Ron and Charlie were finishing their oranges, and Mum was still crying.

Ginny turned and put her arms around Mum, who hugged her back. That was when she noticed that something was strange about the clock on the wall. There were only eight hands. She started weeping again, burying her face in her mum’s orange-gray hair, but the tears dried up quickly, as she had spent so much of the previous afternoon crying already.

Finally Ginny got up, and headed back up the stairs to her room to get dressed. What would she wear? Not her black dress--Fred hadn’t liked black, and he had always hated to dress up. She’d just wear a random old T-shirt and jeans. She tossed her nightgown on the floor instead of putting it in the laundry bin.

Instead of going back down, she went further up, to the twins’ room. She opened the closed door without knocking. There was George, sitting on his bed. His face looked even more terrible than she felt. He wasn’t wearing black either--in fact, he dressed from head to toe in bright orange. Using what little control of her facial muscles she had left, she managed a smile.

Then George stood up and said, “I’m coming, Ginny,� bravely trying to sound normal. He walked towards her, out the door of his old room, and they began to descend the staircase together, one step at a time.

" " " " " " "

“…a noble, courageous man…died protecting his loved ones…always working towards a better world… spirited and dignified…�

Perhaps it would be polite to listen in earnest, but Luna didn’t think Fred would have minded any if she paid no attention to the little old wizard speaking. She was quite sure he would have agreed that what she should really be doing is just helping her grieving friends in any way she could, and right now that meant putting little braids in Ginny’s hair. Ginny loved it when people played with her hair; her mum used to do that for her.

Luna didn’t remember if her own mum had played with her hair, although she remembered that Mum used to comb it every day, very gently, until it was very smooth and felt nice. She felt sad for a moment, missing her mum. Then she realized that Mum must be meeting Fred right now, and she smiled. Mum would like Fred.

That smile had not been a comfort for Ginny on purpose, but Luna was glad it turned into one, because now Ginny was weakly smiling back--smiling even through the tears running down her face. Luna took three more small bunches of red hair and began another braid.

The little wizard finished his speech, and now Mr. Weasley was walking up to the front of the hall, seeming very old, much older than Luna remembered. He began to speak, and this time, Luna listened.

“All of you who are here today…know what a great man Fred was. From his first performance of magic at the age of five--� Mr. Weasley smiled sadly. “When he turned his Brussels sprouts into chocolate, he shared them with his brothers and sister…he was always happiest when he could make others happy. He lightened the days of others, even in dark times. His greatest gift to the world was laughter…and joy. He was creative--his success in the joke shop business speaks for itself. And he was determined, and very, very brave. He fought--always, for his family and friends. And he died--� his voice cracked on the word, and he began again. “He died fighting for us, for all of us.

“Fred was a light in darkness and a force for good in the world. I could not have asked for a better son. He should have had--many more years of life than he did. His very essence was life. I will--always love him, and always miss him. But Fred would know better than anyone--that life is to be enjoyed to the fullest. He did. And--so should we.�

Luna applauded quietly. So did a few others, including Ginny. Mr. Weasley was returning to his seat. Now there was a wizard in black robes with his wand leading a long, dark brown casket down between the rows of folding chairs. He stopped at the front, and the casket came gently to rest. It was open, and Luna caught a glimpse of red hair before she noticed Ginny hunch over and put her hands over her eyes. She turned to comfort Ginny, who choked out, “I don’t want to see him like that. That’s not how he looks.�

Luna decided to close her eyes too, although when she heard a strangled, sobbing noise coming from her left she opened her eyes again. She didn’t turn around to look at him--that would be very rude. She felt so sorry for him, for Fred, for all of them. The casket lid was closed now, and as it was being slowly lowered into the ground, Luna held on to her best friend, trying to think of something comforting to say. She could remind Ginny remembered how Fred used to stand up to Umbridge back in fourth year, how he played such funny jokes on her when she became headmistress, how he took leadership quickly and easily on the night of the battle--but somehow she didn’t think Ginny needed any more memories of Fred right now. She was sobbing into Luna’s shoulder, shaking, and reminding Luna very much of herself at her mum’s funeral--and then Luna knew what to say.

“That’s right, get it all out now. You’ll be okay. You’re a very strong girl. It’ll be okay. My mum died, you know, and I’m all right. The pain does go away.�

Ginny nodded, squeezing Luna’s hand, then opening her mouth and saying “Thanks, Luna,� in a cracked voice.

It was done. He was buried. People were crying all around--Bill and Charlie, in quiet heaves; Percy, and next to him, George--lots of other redheaded cousins and uncles and aunts--Ron, who Harry was patting on the back, through his own silent tears. Tears had been running down Luna’s cheek for a while now, but she couldn’t let herself feel too sad right now, because she was here for Ginny.

But then George and that tall boy with dreadlocks--Lee, she thought his name was--walked up to the front of the room, carrying a huge white box embossed with three W’s. Next to her, Ginny breathed in sharply, then exhaled with a little hiccup that sounded almost like a giggle as George and Lee pointed their wands at the white box and it exploded into sparkling lights with an enormous bang that echoed throughout the hall.

Fireworks of every color flew all over the place, crackling and whistling. A bright green one that looked very much like a nargle zoomed past Luna’s left ear. Laughing, she turned to watch it ascend into the rafters, and then beheld quite an amazing sight: in front of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, a pair of blue lights were whirling around each other so fast that they could hardly be distinguished from one another, until they both went off like bombs and sprayed golden sparks everywhere. An ancient, unpleasant-looking woman was screeching, “Disgraceful! I’m a hundred and eight and never have I--� but she cut herself off when a hot pink sparkler whizzed straight at her. She managed to duck it, but the sparkler merely turned around and headed back for her again.

Luna turned to watch the front of the room, where a dozen or so fireworks had congregated and formed a rotating wheel of explosions. Another bunch of firecrackers were arranging themselves into a face mildly reminiscent of Peeves, which was sticking its tongue out at the crowd. The fireworks were even more energetic and colorful than the ones Luna remembered from her fourth year, and they were clearly lifting people’s spirits a great deal. Luna thought it was extremely smart and kind of George and Lee to do something that (in Luna’s opinion) honored Fred’s memory much more than the little wizard’s speeches, and cheered everyone up at the same time.

The little wizard in black robes began to fold up the chairs with his wand, but almost all of the funeral-goers remained to stare at the fireworks, which showed no sign of ever wanting to fizzle out. Ginny was breathing easier than she had been before. Percy, Ron and Harry walked over, and Ginny slipped the hand that wasn’t being held by Luna into one of Harry’s hands. Luna saw Mr. Weasley, Bill, Fleur, and Charlie a little ways off, being given flowers and condolences by their many relatives and friends--Mrs. Weasley was with them too, but she didn’t seem to be in any state to receive condolences, and Luna hoped for her sake that everyone would go home soon.

Ron and Percy were just standing with them now. Luna gazed up at them and said simply, “I’m very sorry about Fred,� making a silent prayer that the Wrackspurts would come and visit the Weasley family for a while, so that their minds could have a reprieve from some of the sadness. Beyond that, Luna knew, only the passage of time would heal them.

“Crucio! CRUCIO!�

The pain, oh God, the unbearable, endless pain, and she was going to die, and she was screaming--and someone far away was yelling her name--oh how she loved him, and she was going to die--and it hurt, it hurt, it was killing her, it was hell--oh God, make it stop, make it stop--God, the pain--screaming--

Something crashed. The crash had been a few feet away from her head, and a little bit--down? She didn’t know where she was, and she was terrified. It was dark, and she didn’t know where that madwoman was--that madwoman--

Hermione was on her back, but she wasn’t on the floor. She was in a bed. Oh! It had been a nightmare, not real. Just a nightmare. The madwoman was dead, and so was Voldemort.

She looked around the dark room, trying to figure out where she had just been sleeping. It obviously wasn’t the tent, or Shell Cottage. It wasn’t the Burrow or Hogwarts or her house, either. Puzzled, she turned over to find the spot where the crashing noise had come from. There was a small bedside lamp lying on the floor, its lampshade titled sideways. From this she deduced that she must be in the Muggle world somewhere, but where?

Then it came to her--she was at her parents’ house in Australia. It was her first time sleeping in this room, since yesterday they had all happily fallen asleep on the sofa in the living room together, after staying up past midnight just talking and enjoying each other’s presence. It had been the old sofa, the comfortable beige one, not the newer, black, leathery one her parents bought when she was twelve, which wasn’t as good for sleeping on.

Her tight grip on her pillow eased, and she noticed for the first time that she was breathing hard. Calm down. I am okay. I’m safe. She must have knocked the lamp down, flailing around in her sleep. She decided to leave it there, since it was too dark to see whether it was broken and she didn’t want to accidentally touch a broken shard of porcelain.

Voldemort and his followers are gone. It was still a new concept. She wondered how long it would take for her to wake up and immediately remember the Battle of Hogwarts, remember that she was safe from all of them.

The Battle of Hogwarts, that’s what people were calling it--and now she remembered...Lupin, Tonks, Fred… Dobby, Colin…and so many others…they were gone too…

Hermione lay with her head on her pillow for a long time, thinking of her friends who had died, and trying to swallow the lump in her throat. She let out a sob when she thought of Teddy Lupin…he was just a little baby, and he would grow up without his parents, his parents who loved him so. His father would never carry him around on his shoulders. His mother would never hold his little hands. They would not be there to tuck him in to sleep at night and wave at him as he boarded the Hogwarts Express…he wouldn’t even remember their voices...and Fred, think of the way the Weasleys must be feel--if Hermione missed Fred, it was nothing to how Mr. and Mrs. Weasley surely felt. Their son was dead. She remembered a sentence she had read somewhere: No parent should have to bury their child.

The room seemed dark and lonely then. She could go climb in with her parents, or start rereading one of her old textbooks…but to read, she’d need her wand, because she doubted the lamp still worked. And she was all right, really, there was nobody who wanted to attack her, which made a pleasant change from the previous few months. She was safe, just sad, so sad… and then she thought of Ron. She wanted him to be there with her; she was used to hearing his breathing at night. Even at Shell Cottage, she had known he was only a room away. A memory came: back in August, the first night the three of them had spent at Grimmauld Place, how she was trying to fall asleep and her arm was stretched out next to her, and she was wishing she could reach out and take his hand, but she couldn’t quite dare to do it, and so her hand lay there on the old, dusty carpet. Then when she was half asleep, she felt his warm hand take hers. It had been so comforting to her, that simple movement. It was silly, but she wished he were here to hold her hand right now.

Thinking of him, of them, was reassuring. Hermione’s breathing slowed as she saw Ron’s and Harry’s smiling faces, Ginny’s and Neville’s and Luna’s, and heard the sound of them all laughing together…

" " " " " " "

Ginny had been dejectedly sitting on the rug in the living room, folding laundry with her wand and thinking about Fred, when she heard a knock on the front door. She slowly got up, shook out the pins and needles in her left foot, and walked over to the door.

When she opened it, she saw Luna, wand tucked behind her ear as usual and carrying a large bouquet of strange-looking orange and red flowers.

“Hello, Ginny,� Luna said cheerily.

“Hi, Luna,� Ginny said with a smile. That girl’s optimism was infectious.

“I picked some flowers for you,� Luna said, handing Ginny the bunch. “They’re depplygenias, also known as Wrackweed. They attract Wrackspurts, you see.�

“Thank you,� said Ginny bemusedly, studying the little inverted-bowl-shaped flowers, each of which had a small crimson center with a few thin tubes sticking out of it and lots of ugly carrot-colored petals bent backwards to form half of a sphere. “They’re really pretty,� she added politely.

“Really? I don’t think they’re terribly pretty,� Luna said, shrugging, “but I’m glad you like them. They do smell quite nice, if you want to sniff them.�

Ginny put the flowers to her nose and inhaled. “Yeah, they do.�

“Wrackspurts like the scent too. They have very keen senses of smell, much better than ours. It’s how they guide themselves around, since they don’t have very good vision and no hearing at all.�

Ginny nodded, still a little confused about why Luna was giving her a flower that attracted Wrackspurts when, from when Ginny knew, Wrackspurts were something you normally wouldn’t want around you. Well, Luna would be Luna; one of Ginny’s favorite things about her was the way she was really sensible sometimes and on other occasions very seriously pronounced utterly incomprehensible things.

Ginny looked out at the green fields and blue skies behind Luna, and on a whim asked, “Want to round people up to play Quidditch?�

“Sure,� Luna said, and Ginny grinned, glad to be getting a break from all the nothing she had been doing all day. Luna continued, “I think I’ll see if I can Summon my broom from here. Accio Broomstick!� She paused in thought. “If it doesn’t work, I suppose I could Apparate back and get it, I passed at the Ministry’s make-up test this morning, you know…but I don’t much like to do it.�

“I know what you mean, it’s like being sucked through an airtight tube,� Ginny said, making a face. She had passed her Apparition test a few months earlier, but Luna, having been kidnapped and taken to Malfoy Manor, hadn’t been able to.

“Well, there’s that, but of course the biggest problem is that Apparition is often used by unscrupulous dragon breeders as a way of making the dragons permanently brain-damaged, and so less dangerous,� Luna explained. “You need a lot of people to Side-Along-Apparate a dragon, of course, so they use a charm to harness the dragon to thousands of other people who are Apparating somewhere nearby, and they don’t even know that they’re being harnessed.�

Eyebrows sky-high, Ginny responded, “I guess you wouldn’t--not if you’re only carrying a thousandth of a dragon’s weight. How much does a dragon weigh, anyway? And how do the pieces of the dragon get back together at the end--because wouldn’t it be pretty much the worst case of Splinching in history?�

“They feed it a modified version of Felix Felicis beforehand,� Luna enlightened her. “So that the dragon gets really lucky and there are a lot of sudden winds which happen to blow all its pieces back together, but not quite lucky enough for it to manage to escape the dragon handlers altogether.�

“I’ll have to ask Charlie about that,� Ginny mused, wondering what her brother would say if he heard Luna’s theory. Or would he just laugh his head off? “Hey, look, there’s your broom,� she noticed. The thin stick of wood could be seen in the distance, rapidly passing over open grass to reach them. “Close your ears, Luna, I’m gonna yell.� Ginny turned around and took a few steps in the direction of the stairs, then yelled, “HEY, BOYS, QUIDDITCH!�

Sounds of movement were heard from upstairs; footsteps began to descend the staircase. She grinned at Luna, saying, “You can hear me all the way up in Ron’s room, it’s great…guess I got that talent from Mum.�

“Harry’s going to love that,� Luna observed agreeably. “Just make sure you don’t do it so much that he regrets marrying you.�

Ginny blushed, laughing. “Luna, we’re--� But she broke off, because Ginny knew Luna was perfectly right, and ‘not married yet!’ hardly seemed like a good defense against the tease.

" " " " " " "

“Hey, has anyone seen the Snitch recently?� came Harry’s voice from Luna’s left. “I mean, you know, I’m finding it hard to see.�

“It’s gotten too dark out--we should really to go inside. I’m serious, Ginny,� Luna heard Percy say, as his sister made a face. “People have been injured, you know.�

George, who was playing as the supposedly indiscriminate Beater (she rather thought he had been discriminating, not by team but by hair color, although seeing as there were exactly two redheads per team it probably evened out anyway), said, “You’re just sore that’s the fifth goal you’ve missed, Perce.�

Simultaneously, Ginny mocked, “Oh, an injury playing Quidditch, that sounds so scary after all we’ve been--�

“Percy’s right, we’re done. Good game though,� said Charlie Weasley with a gracious sort of finality, and Luna nodded in agreement, landing her broomstick and slipping off it onto the slowly darkening green grass. The others landed too, George grumbling and Ron expressing a desire to go eat some food. Ginny seemed grumpy, but Luna knew she was only tired; earlier, when it had been still been light enough to see clearly, Luna had noticed the dark circles under her eyes.

The Weasleys--and Harry too, Luna noticed--were all putting their broomsticks away into a little broom shed. Suddenly Ron jumped backwards, away from the shed, swearing. “For Merlin’s sakes, Ron, it’s just a spider,� Percy said. Ginny sniggered.

They walked back to the Weasleys’ house, chatting about the game. Luna, who hadn’t played much Quidditch before, thought being Chaser had been quite a lot of fun. Charlie, who had been her team’s Seeker but had doubled as a Chaser, had been surprised to see that Luna rode her broomstick side-saddle, which led to an interesting discussion about different flying positions. Ron told Luna that sitting that way made it harder for him to pass to her, but she informed him that actually, she could turn 90 degrees to her right or left to catch a ball just like someone riding the conventional way, so really the only thing different was the direction her broom was pointing, and why would that matter?

Just as the pack of them entered the house, Luna remembered. “Oh--Harry? Ron?�

“Uh-huh?� Ron yawned, sitting on the sofa in Weasleys’ living room. Harry just looked at her.

“Daddy told me to tell you that he’s very, very sorry about trying to sell you out to the Death Eaters, in exchange for me. He only did it because he loves me and he was afraid for me, and he knows it was a very wrong thing to do. Will you forgive him?� she requested.

“He did what?� Ginny said indignantly, sitting up straight in her chair.

“Oh--yeah, of course. It’s okay, we ended up fine,� Harry reassured both Luna and Ginny.

“Well, yeah…� Ron deliberated. “I guess I understand, you’re his kid… it still wasn’t right, but--I forgive him.�

Luna beamed. “I’ll tell him. And…I guess I’ll ask Hermione when she gets back, I don’t think Daddy’s owl would really like to fly all the way to Australia.�

“Hot chocolate, anyone?� Percy asked, getting up from his seat and looking from person to person. “Or maybe ice cream, since it’s May…�

“Ice cream,� Ron, Harry, and George said in unison.

“Ice cream, definitely,� Ginny affirmed. “We have chocolate, right?�

Percy, who had disappeared into the kitchen, called, “Yeah. We have chocolate and vanilla.�

“Okay, who’s chocolate? Just Ron, George, and Ginny?� Charlie asked, looking at the three Weasleys who had half-raised their hands. “Three chocolates, Perce!� he called. “So that leaves three vanillas plus you.�

Luna hummed ‘Rudolph the Red-Nosed Snorkack’ under her breath. She had gotten to the second verse when Percy came back out, carefully levitating seven small glass dishes of ice cream. She took one of the vanillas, and tried a spoonful. It was pretty yummy, she thought, although still not as good as pudding. But then, nothing was as good as pudding.

She ate her ice cream quietly, half listening to the others’ conversation and bickering--Ron was being teased about his fear of spiders again; she ought to remember to show him that article from a few years ago about all their beneficial qualities--and half daydreaming about the trip to Sweden that she and Daddy were planning to go on next month. Last time, they hadn’t managed to find any of the shy creatures they were looking for, but she had high hopes for this trip, since they had done a lot more research since then.

She heard laughter, so she looked up from her mostly-empty bowl. Ginny had licked clean her spoon and now was dangling it from her nose, and the others (except Percy) were attempting to the same. “Can’t use your hands, or any magic,� Ginny explained, grinning at Luna.

“Come on, Perce,� Charlie teased. Percy shook his head, arms crossed, though he couldn’t hide his amusement. Everyone was acting fairly silly; perhaps it was the sugar, or else just the shared jubilant feeling of being together and alive, that was attracting all the nargles (which Luna remembered Daddy saying were known for inspiring childish behavior). Harry and Charlie had now both managed to hang their spoons on their noses. Luna was trying, but she kept finding herself using magic to make it stay. Ron wasn’t having any luck with his spoon, either. Ginny, meanwhile, had gotten up and was marching around the room, seeing how fast she could go without knocking her spoon off.

Luna concentrated on hanging her spoon on her nose at precisely the right angle, and then letting go…Aha! She’d gotten it, without magic!

But then it fell off again, because she burst out laughing at George’s perfectly ridiculous appearance. He had borrowed spoons from Harry, Charlie, and Percy, and was simultaneously dangling them from his nose, his forehead, his chin, and his one ear. Ginny caught sight of him and doubled over in mirth, sending her own spoon flying.

“No magic, Georgie?� Charlie asked, raising his eyebrows. Very slowly and carefully, George nodded, and Charlie looked impressed.

Finally, when they had tired of playing with spoons and Harry was dutifully gathering up the dishes and silverware, Luna remarked to Ginny, “I really ought to go. Daddy will worry…hmm, he doesn’t like for me to fly when it’s dark out...� She considered. “Ginny, doesn’t Charlie work with dragons?�

Ginny nodded, so Luna asked Charlie, “Are there any dragons in England?�

“No, there aren’t. Not legally, at least, and it’s usually a pretty easy thing to regulate--it’s quite difficult to hide a dragon that’s so much as half-grown, they tend to cause a lot of forest fires if you’re not extremely careful.�

“Okay, that’s a relief,� Luna said. Ginny giggled at the mildly bewildered expression on Charlie’s face. Luna mutely Summoned her broomstick from where it stood, leaning against the wall. It flew towards her; she caught it in her right hand and waved to everyone with her left. “Well, goodbye, thank you for the ice cream and the lovely game of Quidditch!� she cried, marveling at the utter wonderfulness of having best friends and getting to spend time with them without any sort of danger hanging over their heads like nargle-infested mistletoe.

“Bye, Luna!� she heard Ginny call before she turned on her heel to Disapparate. A suffocating pressure enveloped her, but she didn’t even notice; at the moment she felt as warm and light as a phoenix feather.