Harry Potter and the Year After

Chapter One: Tea Sandwiches

Chapter 1: Tea Sandwiches

Harry had made the trip down to Dumbledore's gravesite on the far side of the lake on his own. He hadn't wanted to advertise the fact that he was going to hide the most powerful wand in the world right there on the grounds of Hogwarts. It was better if everyone thought he was simply taking a moment to himself before leaving the grounds.

It was simple enough to open Dumbledore's stone slab since it had already been broken open by Voldemort. Harry, however, after no sleep in the last day, did not find it quite so easy to replace the wand within Dumbledore's year-long dead hands. There was the simple fact that Dumbledore simply appeared to only be sleeping-could a spell have been placed so that he wouldn't decompose? But no, Dumbledore would have never wanted something like that. It was just chance that he appeared this way.

Harry slowly placed one foot into the stone grave. It was just deep enough that Harry couldn't reach his old headmaster by simply leaning over. With trembling hands, Harry slid the wand into the small gap under Dumbledore's hands and then heaved his leg out of the grave again.

Harry's old wand seemed to sing to him within his pocket once he released the more powerful one. Harry hardly noticed as he magically repaired and then replaced the stone slab overtop Dumbledore's body. Unthinking, he felt his lips incant spells to conceal the wand only-they were spells that he'd only ever heard Hermione whisper while living in the woods during the autumn and winter.

Once finished, Harry's legs would no longer support him. He sat down on the grass with his back to Dumbledore's grave and gazed out at the lake. White light bounced off of the tiny waves as a mermaid swam up to the surface, gazed at Harry's unblinking face and then swam back down into the green-muddy water again.

Harry was alive.

And it was over.

He remembered the figures of Tonks and Lupin lying on the floor of the Great Hall, their hands barely touching, and wondered if they were still there. He needed to take care of his father's last best friend-his father's Hermione. Lay him to rest. And find out where Lupin's child-Harry's godson-was.

Should he adopt their child? Harry was only seventeen, after all. Though, how many seventeen-year-olds had been through what Harry had? Hopefully he was a tad more mature at this point than he would have been otherwise.

He realized that hiding the Elder Wand wouldn't be his last step after the battle. Maybe he'd never be done with this battle. Not really.

As Harry heaved himself to his feet from the small strip of land by the lake, he heard something (or someone) stir just within the darkness of the Forbidden Forest. Harry couldn't muster enough energy to even turn his head to the sound.

Though, he laughed to himself at the thought of being attacked and possibly dying from anything on these grounds now. Not now. It'd be absurd.

He reminded himself he'd have to die someday. Immediately, he thought of how, after turning the Ressurection Stone, James had appeared to him the way Harry had thought he had when he'd first conjured a Patronus...

***

Ron entered through the Fat Lady's portrait hole having just passed Ginny on the stairs. Hermione was sitting alone on the couch before the fireplace. There was a book in her hands. Ron fought back the tears that threatened to fall at the sight of her there. It was almost too good to be true.

Taking a deep breath, he walked to her and sat down next to her. In the corner of the room, McGonagall was speaking quietly to Colin Creevey's little brother. Ron tried not to watch as a woman, who must have been Colin's mother, came in and spoke to McGonagall, gave her a hug, and then took her surviving son's hand and half-dragged him from the room as the boy stared dumbly at the floor.