An hour later, Harry slipped out of bed and crossed the room to retrieve the pins, returning to sit beside Amelia, who was still tangled in the sheets. He handed her the box with a proud smile.
"Fred and George made these," he said, watching as she opened the box and inspected the three small pins inside.
"They look elegant," Amelia remarked. "What are they?"
Harry sat back and began to explain. "They're like our rings, but one-way. If I were in danger and turned the stone on my ring twice, it would bring you to me, right?"
Amelia nodded.
"Well, if I turn the stone three times, anyone wearing one of these pins would be brought to my location."
Amelia's eyes widened as she realised the implications. "And you said they'll have a few dozen ready soon?"
"In a couple of months," Harry confirmed.
Amelia turned the pin over in her hand, her expression thoughtful. "The idea of you being this well-protected is… reassuring." Her lips quirked into a smirk.
Harry laughed. "I thought you might say that. For now, give these to the three people you trust the most. They'll need to prick their fingers on the pins to bind them to their magical signatures. That way, no one else can use them, even if they're stolen."
"These are absolutely brilliant," Amelia said, her excitement clear. She looked up at him with curiosity. "I have so many questions."
"Ask away, 'Melia," Harry said with a gentle smile.
o – o – o – o – o
The next morning, Harry returned to Hogwarts in time for breakfast. After quickly eating, he approached the head table and asked Dumbledore if they could meet after Potions. The Headmaster agreed, giving him the password to his office.
After Defence Against the Dark Arts, Harry joined Hermione, Susan, and Neville in the library for a productive morning of studying. When lunch ended, Harry and Hermione headed to Potions, their conversation light and filled with speculation about Slughorn's next quirky lesson.
After cleaning up their workstation at the end of class, Harry turned to Hermione. "I have to run. I'm meeting Dumbledore, but I'll see you at dinner in the Great Hall, okay?"
"Of course," Hermione said with a smile. "Good luck."
"Not sticking around today Lord Potter?" he heard Slughorn call when he reached the doorway.
"I'm sorry Professor, I have to meet with the headmaster regarding some urgent business," said Harry. He could see the disappointment in Horace's eyes and he sighed. "I'm sure I won't have any other obligations next week Professor." Slughorn smiled at him and nodded. Harry quickly went on his way. "I'll have to slowly get myself out of that," he thought. "It seems like a waste of time when I already have the information regarding the Horcruxes, but I don't want to be rude. I'll have to talk to Amelia about it later."
Harry hurried off, making his way to the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office. After giving the password, he ascended the spiral staircase. Before he could knock, Dumbledore's calm voice called, "Come in, Harry."
Harry stepped inside, taking a seat across from the desk as Dumbledore smiled warmly. "What can I do for you, Harry?"
Harry took a breath. "I thought you should know—I've made Draco and Narcissa wards of House Black. They're under my protection now."
For a moment, Dumbledore looked surprised, but his expression softened quickly. "I noticed Draco's name had changed in the official records and wondered what had happened. Your generosity, Harry… it continues to amaze me. I must admit, I would not have expected you to help him, but I'm proud of you."
Harry scowled. "Voldemort told him to kill you," he said flatly.
"I know," Dumbledore replied quietly.
"And Snape made an Unbreakable Vow to help him—finish the task if Draco couldn't."
Dumbledore sighed. "Yes, I am aware."
Harry's temper flared. "So you've given up? You were just going to let him kill you?"
Dumbledore's gaze remained steady. "I had hoped for more time to find another solution, but if it came to it… yes."
Harry stared at him in disbelief. "I need the truth about Professor Snape. All of it. Why you trust him, how he became a spy for you, why he hates me when he supposedly loved my mother." He leaned forward, his voice firm. "If my plan is going to work, I'll need his help. But I need to know the truth first."
Dumbledore tilted his head curiously. "What is your plan, Harry?"
"It's not too different from your own, Professor," Harry replied seriously.
Dumbledore regarded him for a long moment, then nodded. He began explaining. He spoke of Snape's childhood growing up near Lily Evans and their shared journey to Hogwarts. How their friendship endured despite being sorted into rival houses, only to falter as Snape grew closer to the Death Eaters and Lily gravitated toward the Marauders.
Dumbledore recounted James and Sirius's bullying and the incident that created the life debt between Snape and James. Then he spoke of the moment that ended Snape and Lily's friendship for good—a moment, Dumbledore explained, that Snape regretted every single day.
"When Severus learned that Voldemort had linked you to the prophecy," Dumbledore continued, "he came to me, begging for your parents' protection. That's when he became my spy."
"And when my parents died?" Harry asked.
"Severus vowed to protect you to honour the life debt he owed your father."
Harry snorted. "Protect me? By tormenting me every chance he gets?"
"You must understand, Harry. Severus is in an impossible position. Some of his unkindness toward you is an act for Voldemort's spies, but some of it… is real. You remind him of James in both appearance and manner, while also reminding him of his own failures with Lily. It's a constant struggle for him, but despite everything, he has done his best to protect you."
Harry sighed and rubbed his temples in frustration. "Thank you for being honest with me, Headmaster. But seriously, why is he teaching? He hates children. There has to be something he can do that wouldn't make him such a miserable old git."
Dumbledore chuckled at Harry's bluntness. "I suspect you will be speaking with Professor Snape soon."
Harry nodded reluctantly.
"Then perhaps you should ask him if there's something else he'd like to do. I'm not sure he's considered life beyond the fight against Voldemort, much like yourself."
Harry frowned thoughtfully. "Is there something else you'd like to do, sir? Other than being Headmaster?"
"Oh, yes. A great many things," Dumbledore replied with a smile.
"Then maybe you should," Harry said firmly.
Dumbledore looked at him curiously.
"You told us once that a time would come when we'd have to choose between what is right and what is easy. Maybe it's time for you to make that choice, sir."
For a moment, Dumbledore studied Harry with a solemn expression before letting out a soft sigh. "Perhaps you are right. You've grown into a fine young man, Harry, despite my interference."
Harry stood. "Thank you, sir. Have a good day."
"And you, Harry," Dumbledore replied, turning back to his paperwork.
Harry hesitated at the door. "Um, Headmaster?"
"Yes?"
"If you wanted to get rid of old junk lying around Hogwarts, what would you do?"
Dumbledore raised an intrigued eyebrow. "I would call on the house-elves and ask them to take care of it."
Harry's eyes widened. "Of course! Thank you, sir."
In his quarters, Harry called for Dobby.
"Dobby, where do the house-elves take broken or forgotten junk left around the castle?"
"We takes it to the Come and Go Room, Harry Potter, sir! We imagine a place to hide it, and it appears. There is all kinds of things in the Room of Hidden Things."
Harry's heart raced. "Thank you, Dobby. Wait here."
He dashed to his desk and scrawled a quick note:
Amelia,
Come to Hogwarts when you can. I know where the Horcrux is.
Harry
Attaching the note to Hedwig, he watched her fly off before turning back to Dobby.
"Dobby, do you know any house-elves looking for work?"
Dobby's face lit up. "Winky is desperate to serve, sir!"
Moments later, Dobby returned with a slightly tipsy Winky in tow.
"Winky," Harry said kindly, "I need someone to care for a manor in Cornwall and assist Miss Black. Would you like the job?"
Winky's face brightened. "Oh yes, Lord Potter-Black! Winky would be most grateful!"
They shook hands, and as the bond formed, Winky instantly sobered, looking years younger.
"Go to Potter Manor and ask Jekyll to get you settled," Harry instructed. "I'll introduce you to Narcissa as soon as I can."
"Thank you, Lord Potter-Black!" Winky beamed before disappearing.
Dobby looked at Harry with admiration. "You are the best wizard in the world, Harry Potter, sir!"
Harry smiled. "Thanks, Dobby."
Once Dobby left, Harry threw himself into his coursework, working steadily until his rumbling stomach reminded him it was time for dinner.
o – o – o – o – o
Harry was nearly finished with his dinner when the massive oak doors of the Great Hall burst open with a loudbang. Heads turned as Amelia Bones strode in, flanked by Tonks and Moody. The hush that fell over the hall was palpable. Even Harry had to admit she struck an imposing figure.
"Harry Potter!" she called, her voice ringing across the hall like a summons. The memory of the Goblet of Fire selecting his name briefly flickered in his mind, and Harry rolled his eyes at her theatrics.
From the Hufflepuff table, he could hear Susan giggling. I'll have to repay her for that later, he thought dryly.
"What can I do for you, Minister?" Harry said innocently, rising from his seat and brushing off his robes. All eyes in the room swivelled to him.
Amelia smirked and pointed to a spot on the floor in front of her. Harry sighed, rolling his eyes again as he made his way to her. This time it was Hermione who giggled.
When he reached her, Amelia surprised him by leaning up to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek before gesturing for him to lead the way out. The hall erupted in snickers and wolf whistles as Harry turned bright red.
'Well, that's not embarrassing at all', he thought grimly, quickening his pace as they exited the Great Hall.
When they reached the seventh floor, Harry stopped before the stretch of wall opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. He paced three times while focusing on what he needed. The door to the Room of Requirement appeared seamlessly, and he pushed it open, revealing an enormous space filled with towering piles of forgotten or discarded items.
It seemed endless, rows upon rows of precariously stacked junk stretching into the distance.
"Do you know what we're looking for?" Tonks asked, surveying the chaotic room with a grimace.
"It's a crown of some kind. I'll recognise it when I see it," Harry replied, stepping forward.
Tonks snorted. "Great. So we're looking for a tiny crown in this mess. Brilliant plan, Harry."
Harry hesitated, then turned to Amelia. "I could fly around. Maybe I'll sense it faster from above?"
Amelia shrugged. "Worth a shot. Better than combing through this heap piece by piece."
"I'll send up red sparks if I find it," Harry said before transforming into a black cloud of smoke, speeding off above the piles of clutter.
A few minutes later, red sparks shot into the air about five rows in.
"There!" Amelia said, pointing. The group hurried in the direction of the sparks, weaving between mounds of forgotten artefacts.
Rounding the corner, they found Harry standing in front of a particularly haphazard pile of metal objects.
"It's in here somewhere," Harry said, his tone certain.
Amelia smirked as she walked up to him. "It's there," she said, pointing just above Harry's head.
"Where?" Harry asked, looking around in confusion.
"Behind you," Amelia said, stepping closer.
Harry turned toward the pile but still didn't see it. He couldfeelit, though—a faint but insistent pull. Before he could act, Amelia reached around him, her hand brushing his hip as she plucked an old goblet off the pile. Beneath it was a dusty, web-covered diadem.
"Oh," Harry said, flushing. "I didn't see that."
"Clearly," Amelia teased, flashing a smile as she retrieved the diadem. She dusted it off before placing it into a stasis box she had brought with her.
"So, how do we destroy this one?" she asked, turning to Harry.
Harry thought for a moment, then his eyes lit up. "I have an idea."
They quickly made their way to Dumbledore's office, ignoring the curious glances and whispers of students they passed along the way.
"Minister, Harry," Dumbledore greeted them warmly as they entered his office. "What a pleasant surprise."
Harry noted that the Headmaster didn't seem the least bit surprised. He was seated calmly at his desk, his fingers steepled in anticipation.
"Can I borrow the Sword of Gryffindor, sir?"
"Of course, my boy," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. Rising, he retrieved the sword from its display on the wall and handed it to Harry.
"Thank you. Amelia, put it on the desk," Harry said, gesturing to the stasis box.
Amelia cleared the desk and placed the diadem in the centre.
"Ravenclaw's lost diadem…" Dumbledore whispered reverently. "I wonder how Tom managed to find it." He stepped back, giving Harry space.
Harry raised the sword high over his head, and the moment it began to descend, an ear-splitting scream erupted. Everyone but Harry clapped their hands over their ears as a black, smoky serpent coiled out of the diadem, hissing violently in Parseltongue.
"§Hellooo,§" it hissed. "§So, you are the Chosen One.§"
The serpent lashed out, wrapping itself around Harry and lifting him off the ground. Its coils tightened, forcing a scream of pain from his lips as waves of uncontrollable magic poured out of him.
"§I recognise a part of myself in you.§ How very curious…§"
Harry barely registered the frantic shouting of the others. The pain was overwhelming, the snake's grip crushing.
"§You cannot remove me,§" it hissed gleefully. "§You will have to die unless you let me join you.§ Together, we could be unstoppable.§"
"No!" Harry gasped through the pain.
The serpent's grip tightened. "§Then I shall kill you… and then your friends.§"
Harry thought of Amelia. Summoning every ounce of his remaining strength, he threw himself forward, bringing the Sword of Gryffindor down with all his might onto the diadem.
A blinding flash of light filled the room. The serpent screeched as it dissolved into ash, the haunting echoes of its scream reverberating through the office.
The diadem shattered, leaving behind only scorched remnants.
Harry dropped the sword and collapsed to his knees, clutching his scar as his body trembled violently.
"I'm taking him to the hospital wing," he heard Amelia say, her voice distant but firm.
He tried to open his mouth, to tell her to make sure the diadem was destroyed completely, but the room was spinning, and his strength was gone. His hands shook uncontrollably, and his vision blurred.
The last thing he saw as his eyes closed was Amelia kneeling beside him, her form billowing into black smoke.
Harry woke two days later in the familiar confines of the hospital wing, sunlight streaming through the tall windows. His throat was dry, and his limbs felt like lead, but he managed to sit up. He blinked, his vision blurry until Hermione appeared at his side, smiling warmly.
"You're awake," she said, setting her book aside and handing him his glasses.
"Thanks," Harry croaked, slipping them on.
Hermione nodded, her cheeks slightly pink. "Amelia had to leave for something urgent—she couldn't wait—but she made me promise to stay with you. She didn't want you waking up alone." Hermione's blush deepened. "It was… quite a shock when the Minister of Magic burst into the dorms in the middle of the night to ask me, of all people, to keep her company. But I told her I'd let her know the moment you woke up, so I'll just—"
"Go on, Hermione. I'm not going anywhere," Harry interrupted with a faint smirk. "Wouldn't want you getting on the Minister's bad side."
Hermione smiled in relief, gave his hand a quick squeeze, and headed off to find Madam Pomfrey. Moments later, the matron swept into view, her familiar combination of exasperation and fondness etched on her face.
"Why is it always you, Potter?" she said, setting her hands on her hips. "Every year, you manage to find some new way to land yourself in here. And every year, you push your luck further." Her lips twitched with a suppressed smile.
"How long was I out this time?" Harry asked hoarsely.
Madam Pomfrey raised an eyebrow at the casual phrasing but answered, "Two days. Whatever you got yourself involved in, you nearly drained your magical core. You're lucky Minister Bones got you here so quickly. You'll feel weak for a few days, but you should recover fully—provided you eat well and rest. Though we both know you're not likely to listen to me." She finished her lecture with a pointed look, running a diagnostic spell over him.
"Are you hungry?" she asked once she finished.
Harry nodded. "Starving, actually."
"I'll have a house-elf bring you something," she said, bustling off.
By the time Hermione returned, Harry was halfway through a plate of roast chicken and mashed potatoes. She sat beside him and began filling him in on the classes he'd missed. Though Harry wasn't particularly concerned about falling behind—he and Hermione were both working a year ahead—he enjoyed the sound of her voice and listened contentedly as he ate.
The relaxed moment shattered when Amelia swept past the privacy screen. Her grave expression stole Harry's appetite. He set his fork down as she approached, his frown deepening with concern.
"Thank you for sitting with him and letting me know when he woke up," Amelia said to Hermione.
"It was no trouble, Minister," Hermione replied, gathering her things.
"I need to speak with Harry alone, if that's all right," Amelia said softly but firmly.
"Of course," Hermione said, standing quickly. She hesitated for a moment as Amelia called after her.
"Hermione," Amelia said gently, "you should go see Ronald. He'll need a friend."
Hermione's brow furrowed, but after a beat, she nodded and left.
Amelia wasted no time. She strode to Harry's bedside and leaned down, pressing a passionate kiss to his lips, as though drawing strength from him. Then she sat heavily in the chair beside him, resting her forehead on the edge of his bed and gripping his hand tightly.
"Amelia," Harry whispered, lifting her chin so he could see her face. Her eyes were swollen, and tear stains streaked her cheeks. It was clear she hadn't slept in days. Harry cupped her cheek tenderly and shifted over, making room for her beside him.
She hesitated before climbing into the bed, curling into his side and resting her head on his chest.
"What happened?" he asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.
Amelia stiffened against him, exhaling shakily. "He must've been furious that we destroyed another Horcrux," she said, her voice trembling. "He sent Death Eaters and werewolves to attack multiple targets simultaneously—Bones Manor, Greengrass Manor, the Longbottom estate, Abbott Manor, and the Burrow."
Harry's arms tightened around her protectively.
"We were spread thin," Amelia continued, her voice cracking. "Even with no defenders sent to Bones Manor, we were drastically outnumbered at the other locations. We killed far more of them than they took from us, but…" She broke off, a sob escaping before she could regain control.
"But we lost Alastor and Arthur."
Harry felt the tears welling in his eyes and didn't bother holding them back. He cradled Amelia tightly as she wept, letting his own tears fall silently into her hair.
More loss, Harry thought, When will it end? How many more people will I lose before this is over?
The grief gave way to a fierce, burning has to stop. I have to end this.
His emotions churned, pulling him in opposite directions until the exhaustion of it all caught up with him. Despite his best efforts to stay awake, Harry's eyes drifted shut, and sleep claimed him.
An hour later, Madam Pomfrey found them still curled together. She sighed softly, pulling a blanket over them and adjusting the privacy screen before leaving them in peace.
Harry woke a few hours later, Amelia still nestled against him. He brushed a stray strand of hair from her face and kissed the top of her head, the gentle motion stirring her awake. She blinked up at him, momentarily disoriented before realising where they were.
Amelia scrambled upright, smoothing her clothes as the blanket slipped to the floor. Harry chuckled at her flustered movements asshe moved to help Harry into a sitting position.
"I'm tired, not an invalid, Amelia," he teased.
She managed a small smile, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'll get Madam Pomfrey. She'll decide that."
Amelia left and returned moments later with the matron, who waved her wand over Harry with an appraising hum.
"You're still weak, but recovering faster than expected," she said. "You may return to your quarters if you promise to rest. No pushing yourself." She turned to Amelia with a steely gaze. "Minister Bones, I'm holding you responsible. Make sure he listens."
"Understood, Madam Pomfrey," Amelia said with a cheeky grin, earning a huff from the matron as she bustled away.
They waited until the Great Hall would be full before making their way back to Harry's quarters. Once inside, they sank onto the sofa, Amelia curling into his side. The silence stretched between them until she finally spoke.
"Are you really all right?" she asked softly.
"I think so," Harry said with a shrug, though the uncertainty in his tone betrayed him.
"What happened with the snake?" Amelia pressed. "You were speaking to it—what did it say?"
Harry hesitated before answering. "It tried to stop me from destroying the Horcrux. When it manifested, it recognised the piece of Voldemort's soul in me. It… tried to merge with it."
Amelia stiffened. "Did it succeed?"
Harry shook his head. "I fought it off. But while they tried to merge, I got flashes—memories of how he made the Horcruxes. The second one was the worst. He tortured his own father into insanity." Harry shivered.
Amelia shifted to look at him, her expression filled with concern.
"Amelia, I can feel his magic inside me now. It's stronger than before. I'm scared. What if… what if he can control me?" Harry's voice cracked, his fear spilling out in the open.
Amelia cupped his face in her hands. "Harry, I don't know what this means. But I know this: you're the strongest wizard I've ever met. Your occlumency is impeccable. Voldemort won't break you."
Her words brought a flicker of comfort, and she kissed him gently.
"You should have Hermione research this," Amelia added. "She'll find answers."
Harry smiled faintly. "She probably will." He yawned, his exhaustion catching up to him again.
"You need to sleep," Amelia said firmly. "Madam Pomfrey's orders."
"Will you stay?" Harry asked softly.
"Always," she said, guiding him to the bedroom and tucking them both into bed.
o – o – o – o – o
The next morning, Harry and Amelia sat together in his quarters for breakfast. The atmosphere was quiet, with only the occasional clink of utensils breaking the silence.
"Ron and Ginny are going to Grimmauld Place with Molly this morning," Amelia informed him gently. "They'll be staying there while the Burrow is rebuilt."
Harry paused mid-bite, his expression darkening. "We can go see them if you want," she offered.
"I don't know if I can," Harry murmured, staring at his plate.
"It's not your fault, Harry," Amelia said softly.
"Yes, it is, Amelia," Harry shot back, his voice rising as his hands slammed against the table. The sharp sound reverberated through the room. He let out a deep breath, dragging his hands down his face as frustration overtook him. "I rushed into destroying the Horcrux without thinking about the consequences—just like last summer when Voldemort tricked me into going to the Department of Mysteries. Sirius died because of me, and now Mr. Weasley and Moody…" His voice cracked. He wiped at the tears threatening to spill, staring blankly at the table.
Amelia moved her chair beside him and pulled him gently against her chest, her arms wrapping around his shoulders.
"You couldn't have predicted how Voldemort would respond, Harry," she whispered. "This isn't your fault. Sitting here and punishing yourself won't change what happened. Your friends need you now, and you'll never forgive yourself if you don't show up for them."
For a moment, Harry stayed silent, the rhythm of Amelia's heartbeat steadying him. Then, he nodded. "You're right," he admitted quietly.
After breakfast, they flooed to Potter Manor. Amelia gave him a lingering kiss before departing for the Ministry, leaving Harry with her parting words echoing in his mind. He took a deep breath, then apparated to Grimmauld Place.
The heavy door creaked open to reveal Ron, his face tear-streaked but steady.
"I'm so sorry, Ron," Harry said, his voice barely audible. He opened his mouth to say more, but nothing came. Words had never come easily between the two of them, and this moment was no exception.
Ron offered him a small, sad smile. "You best come in, then. Mum's been cooking like mad—there's plenty to eat if you're hungry."
Stepping inside, Harry followed Ron down the dimly lit corridor into the kitchen. The scent of bread, stew, and baked goods hung thick in the air. Molly was at the stove, stirring something furiously, but when she turned and saw Harry, her composure broke.
"Oh, Harry," she sobbed, rushing to him. She threw her arms around him and squeezed tightly, her tears soaking into his shirt. "I'm so glad you're all right. Amelia told us you were recovering, but…"
"I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said awkwardly, patting her back.
Molly finally released him, though her hands lingered on his shoulders as she inspected him. "Well, you certainly look better-fed than usual. Amelia must be taking good care of you."
Harry flushed slightly and looked down. "She is."
Molly gave him a small, weary smile. "Amelia told you, didn't she?"
Harry nodded solemnly. "I heard about Mr. Weasley… I'm so sorry, Mrs. Weasley. Is there anything I can do?"
Molly's expression softened even further, though sadness lingered in her eyes. "We'll manage, dear. Don't you worry about us. Bill and Charlie will be here tomorrow, and we'll figure it out as a family. That's what matters." She gestured toward the table with a shaky but determined smile. "Now sit down and have some biscuits before Ron eats them all."
Harry sat and shared the table with Ron, Ginny, and the twins as the rest of the Weasley family trickled in. For the first time in days, the kitchen felt almost… normal. They chatted about small things—Quidditch, schoolwork, even pranks Fred and George had been planning—and for a little while, Harry allowed himself to just listen and be surrounded by them.
Eventually, fatigue began to pull at him again, and he stood to leave.
"We'll walk you out," Fred and George said together, rising to join him.
Once they were out of earshot of the others, Fred handed Harry a small box.
"There are twelve more in there," Fred said quietly.
Harry accepted it with a solemn nod. "If the family needs anything—anything at all—just owl me, all right?"
"Will do, mate," George replied.
With that, Harry apparated back to Potter Manor, where he collapsed onto his bed and drifted into an exhausted nap.
That evening, Harry joined Amelia and Narcissa for dinner at Potter Manor. The atmosphere was light and comfortable, the fire crackling warmly in the hearth.
"Amelia," Harry said thoughtfully between bites of roast lamb, "I want to do something to help the Weasleys. Like pay for the Burrow to be rebuilt." He glanced at Narcissa briefly before focusing on Amelia. "But I know Molly would never accept money from me. Could you… I don't know… make it seem like it came from somewhere else? Tell her she won a Daily Prophet fan club prize or something?"
Amelia laughed, her eyes crinkling at the suggestion. "A fan club prize? Really, Harry?"
"Well, I didn't say it was a great idea," Harry muttered sheepishly.
"I'll see what I can do," Amelia promised, still smiling.
The rest of the meal passed in pleasant conversation until Narcissa politely excused herself to retire for the evening. Harry and Amelia lingered in the sitting room afterward, gravitating to the loveseat near the fire.
As the flames flickered softly, Amelia curled up beside Harry, resting her head on his shoulder. Harry wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close as the quiet of the room enveloped them.
For a while, they said nothing. The stillness was enough, a comforting reprieve from the chaos of the outside world. Eventually, Amelia looked up at him, her lips quirking into a soft smile.
"Are you feeling any better?"
Harry met her gaze and nodded, brushing his fingers gently through her hair. "Yeah. I think I am."
Amelia settled back against him, and the two of them stayed that way, wrapped around each other in the gentle glow of the firelight.
o – o – o – o – o
The next morning, Amelia woke early, careful not to disturb Harry, who was still deep in sleep. She studied him for a moment, noting the dark circles under his eyes and the tension still etched across his features even in rest. Worry prickled at the back of her mind, but she shook it off, slipping quietly out of bed. After a quick shower, she headed downstairs to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for both of them.
As she pulled ingredients from the pantry, Narcissa appeared in the doorway, her expression composed but her tone laced with concern. "Is he really okay?"
Amelia sighed, setting the eggs down with a soft clatter. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "There's something bothering him—something he's not telling me. And the fatigue… it's like it isn't going away."
Narcissa nodded, her gaze distant. "He doesn't seem his usual optimistic self. Maybe—"
Before she could finish, an anguished scream echoed from upstairs. Amelia's heart froze for a split second before her instincts kicked in. She sprinted out of the kitchen, her wand already drawn, with Narcissa close on her heels.
When they reached the master bedroom, Amelia burst through the door and froze at the sight of Harry. He was thrashing violently on the bed, tangled in the sheets, screaming in agony. The sight made her chest tighten. Narcissa stopped in the doorway, her face flushing as she glanced away from Harry's bare form. Amelia, however, rushed to his side without hesitation.
Sliding onto the bed, she gathered him into her arms and held him firmly, whispering softly into his ear. "It's okay, love. It's just a dream. It's not real. I'm here. You're fine. Everything's okay."
Her voice seemed to reach him. Slowly, Harry's struggles ceased, his breathing steadied, and the tension in his body melted away. Amelia gently laid him back against the pillows, smoothing the blanket over him with a tenderness that made Narcissa's gaze soften.
"I take it this happens often," Narcissa said quietly from the doorway.
Amelia sighed, brushing a lock of damp hair from Harry's forehead. "Only when he's struggling with something in particular," she admitted, her voice heavy with worry.
Narcissa straightened, her composure returning. "Alice has likely finished breakfast. I'll bring something up for you both."
Amelia nodded gratefully. "Thank you."
When Harry finally stirred, his head was resting comfortably in Amelia's lap. His eyes fluttered open, and as he saw her face looking down at him, he managed a small smile.
"Morning," she said softly, running her fingers through his hair
Harry sat up slowly and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. Amelia watched him carefully, her concern still evident.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked after a moment.
Harry winced and looked away, his shoulders sagging. "It… it was the snake. The one that came out of the diadem." His voice was quiet, tinged with raw emotion. "It was strangling you, Amelia. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't save you."
Amelia cupped his face and turned him back to look at her. "Harry, I'm fine. I'm right here," she said firmly, her eyes searching his.
He nodded, though the haunted look in his gaze lingered. "I know," he whispered. "It just felt so real."
"It wasn't," Amelia said gently. "And I'm not going anywhere."
She leaned forward and kissed him softly, lingering long enough for him to relax slightly under her touch. When she pulled back, she gave him a small smile.
"I'm right here, Harry," Amelia said asshe moved to straddle his lap. "I'll prove it to you."
o – o – o – o – o
They attended Moody's funeral on Friday, the 23rd of October at the Ministry. Amelia delivered a heartfelt and moving speech honoring one of the greatest Aurors of all time. After the service, they traveled to the family plot in Ireland to lay him to rest. As somber as the burial was, the mood lightened when everyone gathered at a local pub afterward to celebrate Moody's life. It was exactly what he would have wanted—a room filled with laughter, shared memories, and quiet toasts to a man who had lived on the edge for so long.
Mr. Weasley's funeral was held the following day. It was a private, intimate ceremony, and he was cremated as per the family's wishes. Afterwards, the remaining Weasleys hosted close friends and family at the Burrow, which—despite its damaged state—still felt like home. Harry and Amelia attended but sat quietly at the back. Harry couldn't bring himself to speak to the Weasleys, consumed by guilt and a suffocating sense of helplessness. Amelia kindly offered condolences on their behalf, her calm and steady presence the only thing preventing Harry from being completely overwhelmed.
On Sunday, Harry returned to Hogwarts. He tried to settle into his routine, attending the Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff Quidditch match, but it was a one-sided massacre without Ron as Keeper and Ginny's sharp Chaser skills.
Slowly, life around the castle seemed to return to normal, though Ron and Ginny remained absent, and Harry's nightmares persisted. To distract himself, he immersed himself in his studies, spent long hours in the library with Hermione, or worked on the Dark Mark tracker alongside Flitwick. With the Auror training sessions temporarily on hold, Harry devoted his free time to honing his combat magic in the Room of Requirement. His renewed determination was palpable—relentless and edged with something darker.