A Potter Secret

Return for Those Who Choose

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Quiet now. They're all here, some huddled together in small groups, nursing their wounds. There are no tears, just quiet laughter and low conversation. Harry stands at the top of the Hall, surveying it all, then begins to walk. The Weasleys huddle together, Ginny's head resting on her mother's shoulder, her eyes distant. The Malfoys sit in the shadows, avoiding eye contact. McGonagall steps into the aisle, gives him a hug, lightly touches his face, then turns away, eyes glistening. Aberforth and Oliver Wood sit around goblets of something strong. Aberforth gives him a stoic nod. Dean and Seamus laugh together at a table. Filch communes with Mrs. Norris. Flitwick and Sprout sit quietly, dazed. Cho looks up from a group of Ravenclaws, smiles faintly. Neville sits wearily, the Sword of Gryffindor still clutched limply in his hand. Luna sits down beside him. Then Harry looks up and sees Hagrid filling the aisle. Tears in his eyes. He steps forward, wraps Harry in his massive arms. Harry winces, then Hagrid releases him, cuffs him on the arm and hobbles away, blowing his nose in a giant handkerchief. Harry watches him go, then turns, sees, Hermione and Ron. Standing by the doorway. Watching him.

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The trio walk together, then stop, look back at the battered castle in the distance. "Not exactly leaving the place better than we found it, are we?" Ron jokes.

"Can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs," Hermione replies. Ron gives her a screwy look. She shakes her head wearily, frowns. "Something my mum used to say." Harry studies her, absently playing his fingers over the Elder Wand. She looks over, nods to it. "Why didn't it work for him? The Elder wand," Hermione says.

"Because it answers to another," Harry replies. Ron and Hermione study him. "When he killed Snape, he thought the wand would become his. But the thing is it never belonged to Snape." Harry turns the wand in the light, eyeing its brutish surface as he speaks. "It was Draco who disarmed Dumbledore that night on the Astronomy Tower. From that moment on, the wand answered to him. Until the other night when I disarmed Draco."

"But that means-" Ron trails off.

Harry nods. "It answers to me."

Hermione stares at Harry. Ron stares at the wand. "What do you reckon we should do with it?" Ron asks.

"We?" Hermione asks.

"I'm just saying. That's the Elder Wand! It's the most powerful bloody wand in the world! With that, we could, we could-" Ron says.

Hermione raises her hand and Ron stops, sees that her eyes are fixed on Harry, who is staring at the wand, his concentration total. She studies his face for a long moment, and then, as if coming to understand something, begins to nod. As Harry peers down at his hands, Ron and Hermione do as well, watching as he takes the ends of the wand and Snap! breaks it in two. Ron stares, stunned. Hermione smiles. Harry, his face a mask, simply turns and Pitches the pieces over the edge of the viaduct. For a moment, the trio stand in silence, as if words would bring the bridge crashing down. Finally, Harry glances off at the ruins of the castle, smoldering in the distance. "Well, it wasn't boring, was it?" Harry smiles.

Ron turns, ready with a reply, but whatever words were there, briefly, are gone before he can utter them. They all stare into the distance, giving themselves over to the silence. Then, tentatively, tenderly, fingers reach out, Hermione's, and brush Ron and Harry's. They look over. See that her eyes are closed, as if she were committing the moment to memory. They glance briefly at one another and then, tentatively, tenderly, interlace their own fingers with Hermione's, looking off and, like her, closing their eyes.

After a few moments, Harry looks away and pulls his hand back, wrapping his arms around himself. "I should go see Isabella. She deserves a proper burial and- and to be laid to rest."