Year 7-24: Master of None

A/N: Surprise! I wasn't planning on updating again until I returned from vacation, but I've done a bit of rearranging of the final chapters and figured it was safe to drop this one before I return. Consider it an early Christmas present for you all, before things really hit the fan in the climactic chapters to come!

Harry stared at Neville and Hermione in disbelief. For months he'd wondered where they were, what they were up to, and how on earth he was going to find them. Now here they were, in the flesh, staring right back at him. He saw the worry and suspicion still etched on their faces, particularly Neville's – still gauging whether he could be trusted.

"Hey, Harry," Hermione said awkwardly to break the tension.

"Er...hey, 'Mione," Harry greeted her, nonplussed. "Neville. Doing alright?"

"Could be worse," Neville shrugged. They both looked paler and skinnier than the last time Harry had seen them, but in nowhere near as bad a condition as he'd expected. "You?"

"Same, I guess," Harry grimaced. "Might've lost a limb or two along the way, but who's counting?"

"Is it really true you made yourself a new arm?" Hermione blurted out, unable to keep her curiosity at bay. "The one your sister cut off?"

Harry glanced at Fleur, who shrugged apologetically. He sighed and rolled up his left sleeve, showing off his newly-grown arm to the room. Neville and Hermione inched forward cautiously to see; the skin still looked rubbery and unnaturally pale, but it was starting to gain some definition as Harry slowly put it through its paces.

"So...you don't have the Dark Mark anymore?" asked Neville timidly.

"Nope," Harry chuckled darkly. "Not that I'm sorry to be rid of it, mind you. I didn't exactly ask for it to begin with."

"Right," said Neville awkwardly. To his credit, he at least seemed embarrassed by his prior suspicion.

"But enough about me," said Harry. "Where the hell have you two been? We've been trying to find you for nearly a year now, to explain things."

"Yes, we realize that now," Neville sighed. "But we had reasonable cause to think you'd gone dark, didn't we? After what happened with Dumbledore...and the news about the Battle of London...and when Ron went missing over Christmas...you can't blame us for being cautious."

"Maybe, maybe not," Harry huffed. "Where did you go after being split from Ron?"

"We almost came to the Shrieking Shack, when Ron sent his Patronus," Hermione confessed. "But we decided that it was too much of a risk, that he might have been compromised. So we covered our tracks and moved on without him."

Yeah, that much is obvious, Harry thought bitterly. From the look on Neville's face, he could tell it had been mostly his decision, rather than Hermione's. "Then what?" he asked.

"We were out of ideas for where to find the Resurrection Stone," Hermione muttered. "And it was too cold to camp properly, and we were running out of food and options...so we went to Bulgaria."

"Why Bulgaria?"

Hermione reddened slightly as she glanced at Krum. "I knew Viktor's address from when I visited two summers ago," she said. "So we went to his manor and asked for his help. He was kind enough to let us in...we've been staying with him ever since."

"And we're eternally grateful," Neville added hastily, nodding to Krum in thanks.

"It vas an easy decision," Krum said dismissively. "It vas not fair what your government did to you after Dumbledore's death."

"So that's why you didn't trust me after all this time," Harry surmised. "Neville told you his side of the story."

"Yes, he did," Krum nodded. "But Hermoninny was more open-minded. She believed there may be more to the story that we did not yet know. So I kept an open mind as well. And when Fleur came to visit, she also insisted that you were still on the side of good."

Harry turned to Fleur, who was looking guilty beside him. "You know about all of this the whole time?" he demanded. "And you didn't tell me?"

"I did not find out about Neville and 'Ermione until last month," Fleur said sheepishly. "And only after Viktor made me perform an Unbreakable Vow of my own. I could not tell you they were here. I am sorry."

Now it all made sense to Harry. Fleur's reluctance to share information with him over the past few weeks. The secrecy surrounding Krum's retirement from Quidditch and arrival in Britain. He'd been sheltering two undesirables all that time, and wanted to be entirely sure Harry was trustworthy before revealing Neville's location.

"So you finally decided to trust me," said Harry, turning back to Krum. "Why?"

"We saw the recent articles about you and your family in the Prophet," said Krum. "And we knew there must haff been a falling-out between you and the Dark Lord. Fleur explained vot happened at the Manor, and we decided to bring you here, to get your side of things."

"I wanted to hear it out of your own mouth," Neville admitted. "Sorry, mate."

Harry groaned, massaging his temple tiredly. Logically it all made sense in his mind, but he was still frustrated beyond belief with Neville. How much harder had he made all their lives with his refusal to trust Harry? Not just for the past year, but for the past seven? Ever since the incident in the Forbidden Forest with Firenze and the 'sister star' nonsense, it was like the universe was literally conspiring to keep them apart.

"Well, you're here now," Harry sighed. "So we can put all the sorries to the side for now. We have a lot to discuss."

"Is it true that you have the Wand and the Stone?" Hermione asked eagerly. "Fleur said you were the ones who found the real ring in the Gaunt shack a year before Neville and Dumbledore found the fake."

"Yeah," said Harry grimly. He fished into his robes and procured both the Elder Wand and the Resurrection Stone. He placed both on the table before them, and the two teens shuffled forward to view them in the dim light, eyes wide. He could see the wonder in their faces, knowing how hard they'd been searching for the tiny rock for the past year.

Neville, who was still clutching the Invisibility Cloak to his chest, looked particularly entranced, as though drawn to the magic of the objects. His hand instinctively reached out for them, but Harry placed a hand over them protectively, causing the boy to freeze.

"Er...sorry," Neville stammered, red-faced. "I guess we need to figure out this 'Master of Death' business, don't we?"

"Perhaps eet would be best to do so with fresh minds," Fleur suggested, noticing Harry's discomfort. "Eet is quite late, and we 'ave accomplished what we 'oped to do tonight. We can discuss ze particulars tomorrow, after some rest."

"That is a good suggestion," said Krum. "You two are welcome to stay the night, if you please."

"I think I'd prefer to return home, actually," Harry said awkwardly. He wanted to speak with Fleur privately before deciding to do anything with Neville. Krum nodded in agreement with this plan.

Harry and Fleur headed for the front door, with the others following behind to see them off. Harry did not miss the fact that Krum and Hermione had linked hands, looking more than just chummy in their closeness. He had long suspected a budding romance between the two, and had a feeling the past few months together had been more than just a business arrangement.

"Is there a chance you could bring Ronald with you, when you come?" asked Hermione hopefully. "It has been months since we last saw him."

"And, er…" Neville said uncertainly. "Could you bring Dahlia, too? I just...I have some things to say to her."

"She might not take too kindly to seeing you," Harry pointed out. "Considering where you two left off."

"That's why I'd like to see her," Neville said sheepishly. "To explain things."

"I'll...think about it," Harry said vaguely. Neville nodded, as Harry took Fleur's arm, allowing her to Apparate them back to Grimmauld Place. Minutes later, they were back beneath the warm covers of his bed, but Harry was nowhere near ready to fall back asleep.

"You still harbor resentment against him," Fleur deduced. "Why?"

"Why?" Harry scoffed. "Because he's been a total prick to me, that's why! He spent months poisoning Ron and Hermione's minds that I'm evil, not to mention Krum...he pissed off my sister so much that she dumped him, despite still having feelings for him...and he's half the reason we're in this mess to begin with!"

"Much of that is not his fault, though," Fleur pointed out. "Dumbledore turned 'im against you, and that was because of Grindelwald."

"Even before that, though," Harry huffed. "During the Triwizard Tournament...the Chamber of Secrets debacle...he always acted like I was some kind of schemer, trying to undermine him for my own gain. After all I've done for him! All the sacrifices I made to keep his ungrateful arse safe!"

"I think there is something important that you are forgetting," Fleur said thoughtfully.

"What's that?"

"Neville is just a boy," said Fleur. "He makes foolish mistakes and false judgments because 'e does not yet know any better. Despite all he 'as been through, you forget just how young he still is."

"He's a day older than me!" Harry protested.

"No he isn't," said Fleur. "Not really. You 'ave had five extra years prior to zis timeline to process the war and your place in it. Neville was thrust into it with no preparation, only to be upstaged by 'is own peer at every step along the way. Can you blame him for feeling resentful?"

"Yeah, I can!" Harry bellowed. "I had friends that were smarter and more powerful than me in my last timeline, and I didn't whine about it! I worked with them, instead of against them! Is it so much to ask that he take more than three seconds to think about things rationally before mucking everything up that I worked so hard to plan?"

"You do not give him enough grace," said Fleur. "You also made mistakes in your own timeline...you had already died due to them by this point, hadn't you? Perhaps trust just does not come easy for 'Boys Who Lived'. You 'ave shown mercy to others your age, such as Pansy Parkinson...why not extend that same mercy to Neville?"

"Because…" Harry huffed, searching for an answer. "Because he should hold himself to a higher standard! He should have realized long ago that he has to take control of his own destiny, not let other people dictate it for him! I just...he...why is he so weak and helpless?"

He did not know why he was so upset about Neville's ineptitude. But Fleur seemed to understand exactly where he was coming from.

"Darling, you 'ave had a rough life," she said, caressing Harry's face gently. "You did not 'ave a proper childhood, in either of your timelines. I think you are simply upset that Neville did not suffer as much as you have."

Fleur's words hit harder than Harry expected. As usual, she was right...Harry was unhappy with how his life had turned out, in both timelines. He continued to shoulder the terrible burden of Voldemort alone, despite no longer being the Boy Who Lived. To see Neville living innocently despite the looming threat of death over his head irked him more than he wanted to admit. Yet wasn't that what Harry wanted all along? To allow Neville to live the life he'd been denied?

But Harry had failed. Neville had spent the last year on the run, terrified for his life. Voldemort still hunted the boy day and night without rest. And now none of it even mattered...the boy still had to die. Harry hadn't found a way to rescue him from the horcrux, and he had to break the tough news that Neville's life was forfeit. He wasn't truly angry with Neville...he was angry with himself.

"I thought we had more time," Harry sighed forlornly. "What are we supposed to do about Neville's horcrux?"

"There is still ze Hallows," Fleur pointed out. "We do not know if zis 'Master of Death' phenomenon is a myth, or if it can actually save him as Dumbledore hoped."

"Yeah, maybe," Harry muttered. He was not hopeful that Neville would find any success evading Death with the Hallows. He had possessed all three at various points throughout his life, and never felt that they conferred any kind of ability to cheat Death. But there was a minuscule chance that he was wrong, that the trio held more power together than apart. So he decided to cling to that hope, allowing him to gradually drift to sleep despite his troubled conscience.

He didn't feel much more at ease the following morning, but he forced himself out of bed along with Fleur for breakfast. The other adults were all present; James, Lily, Sirius and Andromeda ate their meals in relative silence, while Amelia fussed over a squirming Cassie, who seemed determined to launch herself out of her mother's arms and onto the hardwood floor.

"What's on the agenda for today?" Harry asked, looking to his parents.

"A few of us are going to Diagon Alley to meet with the resistance," said James. "We're preparing a space for all of the fighters Sebastian is importing into the country."

"Can 'Arry and I come?" Fleur asked. "We are anxious to see 'ow progress is coming."

James and Lily exchanged a tense look. "Perhaps it's best if Harry gets some more rest," said Lily. "He has been through an ordeal, and Dahlia said his core was nearly depleted when he got here last week—"

"I'm feeling much better now, honest," said Harry. "And I promise I won't use any magic. Fleur will be with me the entire time."

Harry's parents looked at Fleur, who nodded earnestly in agreement. That seemed to make up their minds.

"Very well," James sighed. "But we don't want you wandering too far. The entire wizarding nation is searching for us at the moment, and we can't afford any more slip-ups."

"Alright," Harry said, though he knew it was a lie. He planned to return to Krum's safe house later, which he of course could not tell his parents due to the Unbreakable Vow. Hopefully they would be able to slip away for a while unnoticed. "Where's Dahlia, by the way? Still sleeping?"

"She's already at the warehouse," said Lily. "Mr. Diggory and Ollivander are still in rough shape, and we couldn't take them to St. Mungo's, for obvious reasons. She's been treating them as best she can."

Perfect, Harry thought. Hopefully they would have the opportunity to steal her away for a few hours to reconnect with Neville. He assumed Ron would be present at the warehouse as well...he knew the teen would be thrilled to learn that Neville and Hermione were safe.

James linked arms with Harry as Lily did the same with Fleur, and they Apparated into an unfamiliar storefront in Diagon Alley. Harry could see the alley through the shuttered blinds, but the shop they were in looked nondescript, with sets of shield apparel lining the walls and shelves.

"Fred and George's apparel shop," James explained. "Most of their business is through contract work with the Ministry, but they also sell some of their supply to the public for self-defense. Come, it's through here."

He led the way to the back of the shop, behind the counter and into a small storeroom. Lily drew her wand and approached a small bookshelf, placing the tip of it to a book entitled 101 Counter-Curses. "Long live the resistance," Lily whispered.

At her command, the bookshelf retracted into the wall and slid sideways, revealing a hidden passageway. The four made their way through and down a spiral staircase, emerging into a much larger hidden underground area. Harry marveled at the sight.

They were at the entrance of a massive warehouse, thousands of square meters in size. Much of the space was occupied by shelves of inventory, though many had been shoved aside to make room for rows of bunk beds. Several rows were already claimed, as hundreds of men and women milled about the space, lightly working out or simply chatting with one another. It reminded Harry of the staging ground for the ICW forces prior to the Battle of London, though this group looked more disjointed, albeit far more dangerous and skilled.

"Ah, James!" a voice greeted them from across the vast space. Sebastian Delacour walked towards them, arms open in greeting.

"Sebastian!" James smiled, greeting the man with a hug. "It's been too long, my friend."

"Glad to know you are no longer under ze thumb of that 'orrible Dark Lord," Sebastian commiserated. "And ze rest of you, as well." He greeted his daughter with a kiss on the cheek, and surprised Harry with a smothering hug as well, rather than the customary handshake.

"Is this everyone you've recruited?" asked James, turning to the assorted groups of fighters wandering around the makeshift barracks.

"Non, zis is roughly a third," said Sebastian. "And Viktor Krum contacted me zis morning, offering several hundred more."

Harry's heart leapt at this news. There were already hundreds of people present here – if this was only a quarter or less of their total force, they might just stand a chance, especially if they could surprise Voldemort with a coordinated attack. James seemed to be of the same mind.

"I have some ideas I'd love to run by your fighters," James offered.

"Yes, of course," Sebastian nodded. "I shall arrange a strategy meeting for zis afternoon."

"Is Dahlia here?" Harry asked.

"She's upstairs, tending to ze two patients," said Sebastian, indicating a small upper story on the other side of the warehouse.

"Do not stray too far!" Lily called out as Harry and Fleur made their way in that direction. "Come find us after our meeting is over."

Harry nodded in confirmation before slipping away through the crowd. He intended to find Dahlia and Ron as soon as possible so that they could meet up with Neville and the others. However, as they traversed the large warehouse, he spotted a familiar face, wandering aimlessly around the space, and averted course to greet her.

"Luna!" he exclaimed, rushing over to the blonde. "How are you? Were you injured in the escape?"

"Not at all!" Luna beamed, accepting his hug. "I knew you would be able to get me out safely. I saw it all along."

"Glad I could help," said Harry, though her words reminded him of a long-standing question in the back of his mind. "But Luna...why did you stay so close to Grindelwald, knowing that something like this could happen? Did you not think he would use you as bait to get to me?"

Luna considered his question for a moment, humming to herself and rocking back and forth on her heels. "I knew that Gellert's path always had to go through you," she said slowly. "But none of your paths ended with him. I'm sorry, I can't explain it any better than that."

"Huh," Harry said thoughtfully. He still failed to understand how Luna's mind worked, but he supposed he saw the logic in it – he'd always felt that Voldemort would be his final obstacle, not Grindelwald. And in the end, they had emerged unscathed from the ordeal, so far be it from him to question her judgment now.

"Harry!" a new voice piped up, as Xenophilius Lovegood strolled towards them. "I must thank you profusely for saving my daughter. Her kidnapping caused me much distress."

"My pleasure, sir," said Harry, shaking the eccentric man's hand. "And thank you for having the courage to publish the truth in The Quibbler. I know it couldn't have been easy."

"My Pandora would never forgive me for doing otherwise," Xenophilius smiled sadly.

"Come, Daddy," said Luna, taking her father's hand. "Harry has far more important things to do today than talk to us." She waved goodbye to Harry and Fleur before guiding Xenophilius away across the warehouse.

"I used to be jealous of zat girl, you know," Fleur remarked as they continued across the warehouse. "I always thought you would end up marrying her."

"Maybe in another life," Harry quipped. He undeniably cared for Luna, but more like a sister than a lover. He found her eccentricities endearing, but also exhausting in prolonged exposure. Whoever wound up marrying Luna would need to be a far more patient man (or woman) than him.

They reached the other side of the space and ascended the steps into the small second story area. It was set up like a makeshift field hospital, with cots lining the walls and shelves stocked with a small supply of potions. The nearest bed to the door was occupied by Garrick Ollivander, who sat upright reading a small paperback novel; he glanced up at their arrival with a small smile.

"Mr. Potter!" he beamed. "And Miss Delacour, is it? I remember you from the Triwizard Tournament."

"Hello again, Monsieur Ollivander," said Fleur, kissing his cheeks in greeting. "I am glad to see you recovering."

"Yes, this old man isn't done living just yet," Ollivander chuckled. He still looked somewhat sickly and pale, but nowhere near as emaciated as he had been in the dungeon of Malfoy Manor. "Thank you again for rescuing me, Harry."

"Of course," Harry nodded. "Is your arm alright, sir?"

"Oh, this?" said Ollivander casually. "It causes me some discomfort, but I can bear it." His left arm looked shriveled and blackened by some kind of horrible curse, and Harry could only imagine what kind of abuse he'd suffered at the hands of Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy.

"May I?" Harry asked, drawing the Elder Wand.

Ollivander consented as Harry waved the wand over it, sensing the dark magic still lingering in the limb. He felt the Wand calling for him to give up control, and Harry relented; suddenly, Ollivander's arm glowed bright blue for a moment, before settling back to its original state. It no longer looked quite so shriveled, as though it was mending itself in rapid succession. Harry sensed the malevolent energy fleeing the man's arm, as whatever the Elder Wand had done seemed to have reversed the spell.

"My word!" Ollivander gasped, a tear running down his cheek as he gingerly felt the arm with his right hand. "You've countered the curse! Your sister said it was impossible…"

"My pleasure," Harry said awkwardly. Ollivander was staring reverently at the Elder Wand, clearly recognizing it for what it was; he quickly stowed it away, still not comfortable with advertising that he had such a powerful and longed-after tool. "Is my sister here?"

"She's next door, tending to Amos," said Ollivander, pointing down the hall. "Thank you, my boy...thank you…"

Harry and Fleur made their way through a makeshift divider into the next small room of cots. There, they found Dahlia applying an ointment to the stump that remained on Amos Diggory's right leg. He wore a crude Muggle prosthetic on his missing left arm, and looked quite cross about his current predicament.

"Hopefully we can speak to St. Mungo's about crafting synthetic limbs once the madness is over," Dahlia was saying to him. "I fear we will be unable to find your existing limbs, if they even still exist."

"They probably burned up in the Fiendfyre your mad brother conjured," Amos said darkly. "Oh, and speak of the devil!"

Dahlia looked up, also noticing Harry and Fleur arriving for the first time. "Hey, idiot," she greeted him. "Come to join the cause?"

"Something like that," Harry chuckled.

"Come to cover his own arse, more like," Amos muttered under his breath.

"Say again, Mr. Diggory?" Harry asked loudly.

"Looking to salvage your reputation, eh, Potter?" Amos said bitterly. "Make amends with the public after betraying their trust to You-Know-Who? Just know that not all of us will so easily forget your past crimes."

"I'm not that interested in my reputation, thank you very much," Harry said coolly, though Amos' words irritated him. "And if you've forgotten, I did just save you from Voldemort's clutches."

"Only under duress," Amos scoffed. "You were more than happy to abandon me and Garrick until Luna changed your mind. You've always looked out for yourself first and foremost, haven't you, boy?"

Harry was not in the mood to bicker over the particulars of the past year right now, particularly with someone so openly hostile towards him. "Dahlia, we need to borrow you for a while," he said loudly to change the subject.

"Alright," said Dahlia. And she stood to follow them out of the room and back down the stairs.

"What a sanctimonious prick," Harry spat bitterly. "He acts all high and mighty for not selling out, but if I hadn't, there wouldn't have been anyone left to rescue him!"

"I wouldn't take him too seriously," Dahlia said diplomatically. "He's just been through a lot, that's all."

"Haven't we all," Harry grumbled unhappily. He'd been more than prepared to offer to regrow Amos' limbs for him with the Elder Wand, but he didn't feel too inclined at the moment. He would reserve special treatment for those who truly appreciated it from now on.

"Where are we going?" Dahlia asked as they descended the steps and re-emerged on the warehouse floor.

"To find Ron Weasley," said Harry. "There's something we need to show the two of you."

They eventually found Ron in a makeshift mess hall, chatting with his parents, Arthur and Molly. Harry knew they too had been evacuated for their own safety, along with all their children. The redheads all stiffened at the sight of Harry and the others approaching them.

"Hey, Ron," Harry greeted. "Mr. Weasley. Mrs. Weasley."

"Hello, Harry," Molly said stiffly. They had not spoken since their altercation the previous summer, ending in a firefight that saw all the Weasleys incapacitated and Bill's memory wiped. Harry presumed that Ron had filled in the rest of his family on Harry's true allegiances, but he could not blame them for their icy demeanor towards him.

"Ron, we need to speak to you," said Harry. "It's urgent."

Arthur looked like he wanted to protest, but Ron spoke up before his father could. "Of course," he said. He gave his parents reassuring nods before following Harry and the others away.

"Don't mind them," Ron muttered as Harry led them towards a quiet spot. "They'll come round eventually. They're just wary of everyone right now."

"I'm sure they will," Harry muttered. Frankly, he wasn't concerned about how Amos Diggory, Molly Weasley, or anybody else thought of him right now. He had far more important things to worry about than public perception of him – that could wait until after Voldemort was dead. And there were still several things that had to happen before that reality became possible.

They reached a quiet corner far from prying eyes, as Harry threw up privacy wards around them. "What's going on, then?" Ron asked, as Dahlia too looked puzzled.

"No time to explain," Harry muttered. "Fleur, you still have the slip of paper?"

Fleur procured the small slip containing the secret to Krum's hideout and showed it to the others. Ron and Dahlia read it, the magic of the Fidelius Charm washing over them as they were let in on the secret.

"You've spoken to Viktor Krum?" said Ron excitedly. "He's here, in Britain?"

"Yes, and we need to go quickly," said Harry. He extended his arm to Ron as Fleur did the same for Dahlia. The two hesitated briefly before accepting, and the four Apparated away.

They arrived on the front lawn of Krum's safe house, looking the same as when Harry had left it the night before. The front door opened as they approached, and Krum emerged from within to greet them.

"Hello again, Mr. Krum," said Dahlia with a small curtsy. "I don't know if you remember me, but we met—"

"'Ow could I forget you?" Krum smiled sweetly. "You are the girl who tended to me during the Triwizard Tournament. I do not forget such a kind soul as yours."

"That's very generous of you," Dahlia said, blushing slightly at the compliment. It seemed that no matter what shadow her brother's reputation cast overhead, nobody ever came away with a poor impression of Dahlia.

"Bloody good to see you again, Viktor," said Ron, shaking Krum's hand enthusiastically. "Though it was a right shame to hear about your retirement. You're not injured, are you?"

"No, not exactly," Krum chuckled. "I hope to be back in the air next season, assuming this war ends by then."

"That's brilliant!" Ron beamed. "But, then...why did you decide to call it quits?"

Krum exchanged a bemused look with Harry and Fleur before replying. "Perhaps it is best I show, rather than tell," he said, beckoning them both inside.

The group followed him into the dining room. Harry placed a reassuring hand on his sister's shoulder as they walked forward; Dahlia, who would normally shrug away from such contact, seemed to sense his tension and did not protest. And he felt her own shoulders tense up when they walked into the dining room to find Neville and Hermione standing there, anxiously awaiting their arrival.

There was a moment's silence as they took one another in. "Blimey!" Ron shouted, rushing forward to engulf his two best friends in a hug. "You found them! Merlin's balls, you actually found them!"

"Good to see you, Ron," Hermione laughed. Neville too patted his friend enthusiastically on the back, but his face betrayed a different frame of mind. He was staring nervously at Dahlia, who was staring right back, wide-eyed.

"H-hey, Dahlia," Neville gulped. "Erm...surprise?"

Dahlia walked forward in a trance towards him. Her hand came up to touch Neville's face, feeling its contours as if not quite believing he was real. Neville closed his eyes to the familiar touch, a broad smile crossing his features.

Then, Dahlia reared back and slapped him hard across the face.

"How dare you?!" she shrieked, as Neville lurched back in shock. "How dare you, Neville Longbottom! You leave Hogwarts without telling me, without even saying goodbye? You don't write to me even once? And now you have the gall to just show up here, and say 'Hey, Dahlia', as if nothing ever happened? Are you mental?!"

"I…" Neville stammered, completely flabbergasted. "I didn't know if you would have wanted to see me again. You, er, kinda broke up with me the last time we spoke."

"And that's another thing!" Dahlia ranted, looking flustered herself now. "You stole my father's cloak, you prat, even when you promised to return it before leaving! And you continued to bad-mouth my brother, after everything he did to protect you!"

"I know," Neville sighed, face pained at the reminder of his shortcomings. "But I didn't get a chance to return the Cloak before the Aurors showed up, and I wasn't sure how long Hogwarts would be safe for. I didn't write to you because I feared it wasn't safe, and didn't want to endanger you by making people think you and I were still in contact."

Dahlia paced to and fro, looking exasperated, overwhelmed and furious all at once. "For ten months I had to wonder what you lot were doing!" she shouted. "Ten months of torture, of wondering when you'd show up in the news, dead or in Azkaban! And I wouldn't get the chance to tell you what a big, stupid, arse you were!"

"Dahlia, I'm sorry, okay?" Neville pleaded with her, dropping to his knees in contrition. "I'm a total idiot, alright? I didn't realize how lucky I was to have you, and I threw it all away over some petty jealousy with your brother. I've spent the past year wondering if you're safe too, and wishing I could reach out to let you know I'm okay. All I've been wishing is for the chance to say how sorry I am, and beg your forgiveness. But if you don't forgive me, I understand. I'm a fool, and you deserve better."

Dahlia stared at Neville for a long moment, as though torn between slapping him again or bursting into tears. The tension in the room was palpable, as everyone waited to see if she was about to explode into another diatribe at him.

"Well, you can't say much fairer than that," Dahlia said breathlessly. And she rushed forward, throwing her arms around Neville and kissing him deeply. Neville stood stock-still for a moment of shock, then eagerly responded in kind, clutching onto Dahlia for dear life.

The display of affection went on for several seconds before it became uncomfortable for the others present. "Ahem," Harry said loudly. "Maybe you two can continue this when there isn't a bloody war on?"

Neville and Dahlia finally broke apart, both red in the face. "Er, yeah, alright," Neville chuckled, looking like he'd been struck by a Bludger but nonetheless pleased with himself. "It's just been a lonely year, that's all."

"We do not 'ave unlimited time," Fleur pointed out to clear the air. "Perhaps we can find a suitable place to talk?"

"An excellent suggestion," Krum grunted. He led the way into the next room, which was a small sitting room lined with bookshelves. Harry and Fleur squeezed into an armchair together, as did Krum and Hermione; Ron, Neville and Dahlia took the sofa, the latter two still draped over one another, holding on tight as though fearing the other might run off without warning.

They spent the next few minutes catching everyone up to speed. Ron and Dahlia listened with rapt attention as Neville and Hermione filled them in on their recent activities. Hermione squealed with delight when Ron excitedly shared the news about Daphne.

"Blimey...you're gonna be a dad?" said Neville, staring at Ron in awe. "That's...wow, mate, you must be thrilled!"

"I'm bloody terrified is what I am," said Ron. "It puts things into perspective, doesn't it? Before I found out, it was just my own life I had to worry about...now there's a whole other person coming into the world who needs me. Makes me want to train even harder, to make sure I get through this in one piece, y'know?"

"Don't you worry about a thing," Neville told him resolutely, clapping his best friend on the back. "Nobody in this room is dying. We'll all have each other's backs, and this time next year we'll be celebrating our victory."

Harry's stomach twisted uncomfortably at this statement. It reminded him of the difficult conversation ahead of him – the terrible knowledge he'd been keeping from Neville all this time. "We should get straight to business," he said nervously, as Fleur massaged his arm reassuringly.

"Absolutely," said Ron, looking eagerly from Harry to Neville. "Can we please address the elephant in the room? All three of the Deathly Hallows are here, in this room! Together again for the first time in centuries!"

Harry nodded awkwardly. He pulled out the Wand and the Stone from his robes, setting them carefully atop the coffee table. Neville procured the Cloak and folded it neatly beside them. The room stared in reverent silence at the three objects...all seemingly benign just sitting there, but forged of myth and centuries of death and strife over their existence. Even Harry, who doubted the validity of the 'Master of Death' claims, felt a chill of anticipation run down his spine at the sight.

"Well...I'll just say what I'm thinking out loud," Neville said, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Dumbledore wanted me to have all three Hallows, so that I could defeat Voldemort. But I know the Cloak belongs to Harry, and he won the Wand from me fair and square, not to mention getting to the Stone first. Maybe it should be him instead of me."

"But...you're the Chosen One, mate!" Ron said eagerly. "The prophecy referred to you! 'The Dark Lord will mark him as his equal'...that means your scar, mate!"

"Ronald, we've discussed this at length, remember?" Hermione said gently. "Harry was also marked by Voldemort with the Dark Mark, wasn't he? He fits the criteria too."

"Yeah, but he chopped off that mark, didn't he?" Ron scoffed. "Not like you can do the same with your forehead, Nev."

"I'm not going to make the same mistake as before, Ron," Neville said firmly. "I won't take Harry for granted. If he thinks it's best that he becomes the Master of Death, I'll defer to him."

The trio continued to bicker over the dilemma as Harry stewed in silence, stomach still twisting itself into knots over what he knew must happen. "Please," he said firmly, and the room fell respectfully silent. All eyes were on him, and he felt that terrible weight upon him again – the horrible, inevitable reality he'd fought so hard to avoid, but failed. It was time for Neville to learn the truth.

"The night Voldemort tried to kill you," Harry said slowly, looking up at Neville with a pained expression, "the Killing Curse rebounded on him. But neither of you died. Did you ever wonder why?"

"My mother's protection saved me," said Neville blankly, not fully understanding the question. "Hermione thinks it created a magical vow of sorts, because Pettigrew asked his master to spare her but he refused—"

"I don't mean why you survived," said Harry. "I mean him. Why was he able to come back to life?"

Neville looked puzzled by this thought. "I mean, he's a Dark wizard, isn't he?" he frowned. "He probably did some nasty ritual to tether his spirit to the world."

"That's...not actually far off," Harry said, somewhat impressed. And he began the laborious process of explaining the horcruxes to the trio, and how Voldemort had undergone the terrible process of immortality. He gave an abridged version of his quest to locate and destroy them all, culminating in Nagini's death at Malfoy Manor and the Sword's reappearance in the Hat, then subsequent purging by dragon fire in the goblin forge.

"But, then...that's brilliant news!" said Ron excitedly once his story was done. "You got them all! So now You-Know-Who should be mortal again, shouldn't he?"

"Not exactly," Harry sighed. "He created one more horcrux, one that he didn't intend to make or was even aware of. A soul fragment that latched itself onto a baby, sixteen years ago, after being separated from the whole."

He looked directly at Neville as he said it. Neville frowned in confusion for a moment, then his eyes wide as he realized what he was referring to, hand flying up to feel his scar.

"You're saying…?" Neville breathed, finger lightly brushing across the red lightning bolt. "Voldemort made me into a horcrux?"

"That's why you're a Parselmouth," Harry explained. "It's why the Sorting Hat put you in Slytherin. It's why you can see from his perspective sometimes, can feel his emotions and thoughts. Part of his soul is attached to yours, and as long as that soul fragment lives, so too does he."

Neville blinked rapidly as he processed this information. Harry knew the truth of the revelation was sinking in, that Neville knew that the information about his scar was correct. Then, the horrible truth finally dawned on him, and a despondent look came over him, looking fearfully up at Harry.

"So then, in order for Voldemort to die…" he said slowly. "I have to die, too?"

"What? That's mental," laughed Ron, still in denial. "Right, Harry? Hermione? Tell him that's mental."

Hermione remained silent, her eyes wide as she too realized the truth. Harry had eyes only for Neville, feeling sick to his stomach as he could only nod in affirmation.

"I've tried for years to find a way around it," Harry said in a strained voice. "But I couldn't find one. I'm sorry, Neville."

A stunned silence followed his words as the gravity of the situation fell upon the entire room. Neville stared off into space for a long while, contemplating the end – his end. Then, to Harry's astonishment, he laughed aloud.

"Right, then," he said matter-of-factly. "Just give me a moment to compose my will, then I'll be off to jump in front of the Knight Bus."

The tension in the room lessened somewhat, as Hermione stifled a gasp and Ron guffawed darkly as the gallows humor. "Don't you even joke about that!" Dahlia said in a scandalized tone, slapping Neville on the shoulder. She curled herself even more tightly around him, as if to prevent him from running off and doing as he'd suggested.

"There might be another way," Fleur suggested softly.

"Fleur, don't give him false hope—" Harry sighed tiredly.

"Maybe eet is not false hope!" Fleur insisted. "If Neville becomes Master of Death, 'e may be able to survive ze Killing Curse again. It is what Dumbledore 'oped for."

"That's why Dumbledore wanted him to unite the Hallows?" Hermione gasped. "He knew about the horcrux all along?"

"Yep," Harry said bitterly. "But Dumbledore didn't know what the hell he was talking about. He was just chasing a childhood fantasy that he never fulfilled in his youth."

"But it's worth trying, isn't it?" Ron suggested, gesturing to the three Hallows still sitting on the coffee table. "We have what we need right here!"

"Don't be absurd, Ron!" Hermione scoffed. "Nobody here is going to cast the Killing Curse on Neville!"

"Maybe they should," Neville muttered thoughtfully.

Both Dahlia and Hermione protested at the same time: "It could be suicide!" "What if it doesn't work?"

"Yeah, so what if it doesn't?" Neville said hotly. "If it works, then great, I live. If it doesn't, well, then at least the problem's still solved, isn't it? The horcrux will be gone, and Voldemort will be mortal again."

"You can't just sacrifice yourself like that, mate!" Ron said weakly. "We need you!"

"It sounds like maybe you don't," Neville laughed hollowly. "You'll still have Harry – he was always the strong one, the one who could fight. I'm not a fighter. Maybe that's my role in all this after all...to die so that everyone else can live."

"You stop that self-pitying nonsense right now!" Dahlia chastised him, tears in her eyes as she implored him to see reason. "We do need you, don't you get it? You are not throwing yourself on the sword for no reason!"

"It's not for no reason, Dahlia," Neville smiled weakly, brushing a strand of her hair away with an affectionate, almost wistful expression. "It's for everyone else's sake. I'm keeping a lunatic alive and preventing him from being killed. It would be selfish of me not to do it, wouldn't it?"

"Let us all take a moment to breathe," said Fleur nervously, sensing the unbearable tension in the room. "We do not 'ave to decide anything right this moment."

"How about lunch?" Krum piped up helpfully.

That succeeded in breaking the tension, as everyone migrated towards the kitchen for a bite to eat. But Harry could still see the darkness behind Neville's eyes, contemplating this new revelation that could mean his end. The dark life he was enabling with his own. The others too appeared troubled; Ron and Hermione were shell-shocked by the revelation about their best friend, while Dahlia trembled quietly at Neville's side, clearly terrified by what might become of him.

The group finished the meal in silence, all looking automatically to Harry for what came next. "I reckon the first thing we should do is unite the Hallows," he suggested. "Maybe it will give us some insight we're missing."

"Hear, hear," Neville agreed before anyone else could object. "It's your call, Harry. Do you want them, or should I give it a go?"

"You're the one who needs it more right now, mate," Harry chuckled.

Neville also laughed darkly at the quip, though nobody else did. It was a testament to the unique bond they shared: two boys marked by Death, embracing the twisted humor of the situation rather than dreading it.

The group returned to the sitting room, where the three Hallows still sat benignly on the coffee table. They stood in a circle staring down at them for a long moment, contemplating their significance.

"I just 'ad a thought," Fleur muttered. "What wand will 'Arry use if Neville takes the Elder Wand? His own wand was destroyed in the fight with Grindelwald."

"You fought Grindelwald?" Hermione gasped. "But...I thought he was killed over Christmas?"

"That's a long story for another day," Harry grimaced. He reached into his robes for the remains of his Kneazle core wand, placing the splintered mahogany shards on the coffee table.

"A shame, that," Ron sighed. "Maybe you can get Ollivander to make you another one?"

"Doubt I'll ever find a stronger bond than this one," said Harry. "Took hundreds of tries to find one that suited me to begin with. I'd rather keep the one I have."

"But wands can't be repaired," Hermione pointed out. "Once they break, they're useless."

"Maybe," Harry muttered. "Maybe not." He reached for the Elder Wand nearby, feeling its whispering in his mind even now. The bond he'd developed with it clearly extended beyond mere touch, as he could hear and feel it even from across the room. He would be saddened to part with it, but it was also a burden he could do without. And he sensed that he did not have to lose his original wand just yet.

He placed the tip of the Elder Wand to the mahogany and whispered, "Reparo." Immediately the splintered wood began to reform and repair itself, forming into a single whole once more. And when Harry picked it up, he felt the warmth return, indicating that he had succeeded.

"Bloody hell," Ron whistled. "Guess the wand really has special powers, doesn't it?"

"Let's hope it has a few more tricks up its sleeve," Harry sighed. "Neville, you should disarm me first, so you regain ownership of the Wand."

"If you're sure," Neville muttered. He drew his own holly and phoenix core wand and faced off with Harry, who held the Elder Wand loosely in his palm. Harry felt a sudden onset of anxiety, as though anticipating what was to come – or maybe the Wand itself did, not wishing to change owners again.

Neville aimed at Harry's hand and said, "Expelliarmus." A jet of red light rushed at Harry, who suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to block it, to defend himself. But with the mightiest of Occlumency efforts, he suppressed the urge and allowed the spell to hit him; the Elder Wand was wrenched from his grasp, flying through the air towards Neville, who caught it in his off-hand.

Harry abruptly dropped to one knee, gasping for air. The abrupt shift in magic was overwhelming, nearly causing him to pass out. "Are you alright, Harry?" Dahlia asked fearfully.

"Yes, fine," Harry grimaced. It was difficult to explain the sensation...like a part of himself had been wrenched away from him. Almost like a bereavement, a voice in his head that was no longer whispering to him. He felt dizzy with a sense of loss, and suddenly understood why Grindelwald had been so desperate to reconnect with the Wand after fifty years apart. But he forced the feeling aside, focusing on Neville once more.

Everyone in the room collectively held their breath as Harry grabbed the other two Hallows from the table. It felt like some sort of sacred ritual, as Harry solemnly draped the Invisibility Cloak over Neville's shoulders and slipped the ring containing the Resurrection Stone onto his finger. Then he stepped back, marveling along with the others as Neville stood uncertainly with all three Hallows.

"How do you feel, Neville?" Hermione asked quietly.

"Cold," Neville admitted. "And heavy. Like I have an extra weight on me."

The room silently weighed these words. Harry knew he was referring to the weight of responsibility, of the burden upon his shoulders, literally and metaphorically. Then Ron quipped, "What did I tell you, mate? Shouldn't have gone for that second sandwich at lunch." That succeeded in relieving the unbearable tension, as everyone groaned good-naturedly at the bad joke.

"Can you feel anything different about your scar?" Harry asked pointedly. "Can you see any way to be rid of it?"

"Not exactly," Neville frowned. "I can still sense Voldemort, but he feels as part of me as he always did."

"Well, then how are we going to remove it?" Hermione asked.

"Isn't it obvious, Hermione?" Neville smirked. "I have to die."

"What? No, you can't!" Dahlia protested at once.

"But maybe the Hallows will let him come right back!" Ron reasoned. "That's what Dumbledore thought, isn't it?"

"Dumbledore didn't know for sure, though," Hermione said anxiously. "Harry's right...Professor Dumbledore was smart, but he might have been wrong."

"So what if he was?" Neville huffed. "At least the horcrux will be gone, won't it? If this doesn't work, nothing ever will, so why bother stressing over it?"

"We can find another way!" Hermione insisted. "We can...we can research other methods—"

"Didn't you hear Harry? He's been searching for years for an answer and couldn't find any!" Neville laughed hollowly. "That's probably why he sought out Rakhaman the Defiler, isn't it?"

All eyes turned to Harry in shock. "Er...yes, that's true," he admitted. "I told him about Neville's scar, and his reaction was to try and hunt him down, so I had to kill him before he got the chance."

"See? There you go," Neville said matter-of-factly as the others blanched at this information. "If a literal necromancer couldn't solve it, that's that. So, who's going to do the honors?"

He looked expectantly around the room. Fleur and Krum immediately shook their heads no; Ron, Hermione and Dahlia just stared at him in horror for such a suggestion.

"Guess it won't be my first time," Harry said grimly, pulling out his mahogany wand. "Everyone else stand back."

Everyone scattered as Harry pointed his wand at Neville. The boy stared at it, trying to look calm and nonchalant despite being anything but. He was trembling slightly, the Elder Wand quivering in his palm and the Cloak threatening to slip off his shoulders to the ground.

"Your call, Neville," said Harry. "Are you sure about this?"

Neville glanced up at everyone else in the room. From Ron and Hermione, watching worriedly; to Fleur and Krum, troubled but keeping silent; to Dahlia, on the verge of tears, trembling quietly at Fleur's side.

"Just get it over with," Neville sighed. "I'm sick of thinking about it."

Harry tried to steel himself and not think too hard about what he was about to do. Was this truly the culmination of his last seven years in this timeline? After spending so long saving Neville's life time and again, he was about to knowingly take it? What if the Hallows didn't work? What if he really was about to murder Neville Longbottom, in front of his nearest friends and loved ones? Would they be able to forgive him? Would he be able to forgive himself?

It will work, Harry told himself. It HAS to work.

No point in prolonging the inevitable. Like Neville, it was agony to even think about it for long. He cleared his mind and steadied his arm, aiming the Kneazle wand between the boy's eyes. "Avada Kedav—" Harry said.

"Wait!" Neville blurted, flinching away from Harry abruptly. "S-sorry, I wasn't ready yet. Let's go again."

Harry lowered his arm, heart pounding. Everyone else in the room had also flinched audibly at the sound of the Killing Curse being cast. His wand tip had even briefly glowed green, as he canceled the spell at the last possible moment.

"I can't watch this," Hermione muttered, rushing from the room into the hall. Krum followed after her. Harry glanced at the others; Ron was trying his hardest not to tremble while leaning haphazardly against the wall, while Dahlia clung tightly to Fleur, face buried in her robes. Only Fleur looked to Harry, meeting his gaze; she knew how difficult this was for Harry, giving him silent support in a difficult moment.

Harry turned back to Neville, raising his wand once more. This time he would not hesitate. He knew intent would be important, as he would need to summon the hatred necessary to cast such a terrible spell. So he fed into the anger that was always simmering just below the surface of his psyche. Anger at Dumbledore for forcing them into this impossible corner. Anger at Voldemort for creating this situation in the first place. And above all, anger at himself for failing to solve this problem sooner. After all, self-loathing was perhaps the strongest form of hate there was.

"Avada Kedavra."

The Killing Curse erupted from Harry's wand and shot across the room towards Neville. Harry saw the boy's eyes go wide as Death rushed forward to greet him; at the last possible millisecond, the Elder Wand flicked forward, deflecting the curse upwards. Debris rained down from the small crater gouged into the ceiling, as Neville sank to his knees, gasping for air and trembling terribly.

"I can't do it," Neville choked. "I'm s-sorry. I just can't."

Dahlia rushed to Neville's side, kneeling beside him and wrapping him in a tight hug. "We are not doing that again!" she said firmly, glaring up at Harry.

"No, we're not," Harry agreed sullenly. It was just as he feared: for all his talk of being brave, of falling on the sword, Neville did not want to die. And Harry did not want to be the one to kill him. It was a bridge too far...for all the lives he had ended in this timeline, this was the one he could not bear to take. They had to find another way. They just had to.

"Harry, take it back," Neville groaned, thrusting the Elder Wand towards him. "I can't take it anymore. The whispering. The cold. It's too much."

Harry took pity on the boy, lifting his own wand once more. "Expelliarmus." The Elder Wand flew from Neville's fingers into Harry's newly-grown hand; he immediately felt the rush of cold as it re-accepted him as its master. Along with it came a sense of euphoria as the missing piece of himself reintegrated into him, but he did his best not to indulge in the feeling.

"I don't want to die," Neville cried softly as Dahlia clung to him for dear life. "I don't want to die."

Ron came forward and sat at Neville's other side, wrapping his arm around his best friend. Hermione also rushed back into the room and joined the others, forming a protective layer around the Boy Who Lived, reassuring him quietly. Harry felt a terrible sinking weight in his stomach at the sight, and now he was the one who could not bear it, stepping out into the hall to recompose himself.

Harry paced up and down the hall, trying his best not to hyperventilate. This was not happening. This was the worst case scenario: he was out of options, out of time. Neville had to die for this war to end, but Harry couldn't bring himself to kill him. Not against the boy's will. But what else was there to do? How were they supposed to defeat Voldemort, when he remained tethered to life by the very boy whose life Harry was desperate to save?

Fleur came out to join him in the hall, gently guiding him to the adjoining library and onto the sofa. She sat quietly beside him, caressing him gently as Harry tried to come down from his panic attack.

"I know," she said softly. "I know. Just breathe."

It took Harry a few minutes to calm down. Eventually he curled himself into a ball, resting his head in Fleur's lap as she gently stroked his hair.

"It's not fair," Harry eventually mustered. "It's just not bloody fair."

"You're right, it's not," Fleur agreed.

"I don't know what to do, Fleur," Harry sighed. "Killing Neville would be like killing a part of myself."

"Then we will find another way," Fleur said decisively. "I will kill ze boy myself if it means you do not 'ave to."

"Don't be stupid," Harry scoffed. "I wouldn't want you to become a killer on my behalf."

"You think I 'ave not killed?" Fleur said indignantly. "I fought in ze Battle of London, if you've forgotten. I took several lives then while protecting your sister, and I will do it again when ze time comes. Do not mistake my kindness for weakness."

"Oh," said Harry softly. He had never thought to ask Fleur about her experiences in the last battle. His own actions in the war weighed on him heavily, and he'd never considered what past deeds must keep Fleur awake at night. That sobering thought helped him get out of his own head, as he sat back up and took a steadying breath.

The pair stood and returned to the other room to rejoin the others. Ron, Hermione, Dahlia and Neville still sat in a tight circle on the floor; they flinched instinctively as they saw Harry enter, the former three moving instinctively to shield the latter. But Harry merely sank into an armchair, tossing the Elder Wand back onto the coffee table in disgust.

"What a bloody nightmare this is," he sighed heavily.

"You can say that again," Ron agreed. Hermione and Dahlia nodded forlornly in agreement. Neville, however, seemed to be steeling himself again, glancing determinedly at Harry before abruptly jumping back to his feet.

"Right, let's go again," he said with as much bravado as he could muster. "I'm ready."

"No, we're done for the day," Harry said firmly. "I don't want to do that again any more than you do."

Neville visibly relaxed at this. He drifted towards the sofa and sank into it, as the others fell back to their seats in turn. They all sat in silence for a long while, each contemplating the horrible reality they found themselves in.

"It's getting late," Harry remarked, looking towards the window at the sun dipping towards the horizon. "Let's call it for today. We can get some rest and work out a plan tomorrow."

"We can ask Mum and Dad for help," Dahlia offered. "Maybe they know something. Maybe...maybe Dad still has connections in the Ministry that can solve this."

Harry chuckled hollowly at this naive notion. If Saul Croaker, Head of the Department of Mysteries of all people, couldn't solve the problem of Neville's horcrux, he doubted anyone else at the Ministry could. But he did not admit this thought aloud.

"A fine idea, Dahlia," he nodded. "Let's all get some rest and tackle the problem fresh in the morning."

"We can consult with your parents and mine," Fleur added. "If they 'ave any ideas, it will be best to gain their perspective as well."

"Let's meet at the warehouse where the resistance is planning, then," said Harry. Krum and the others nodded in agreement.

Soon after, the group stood to part ways for the evening. Harry, Fleur, Dahlia and Ron headed for the exit to return to the warehouse, as Krum, Hermione and Neville saw them off.

"Harry, wait," said Neville suddenly. "Don't forget this." He removed the ring containing the Resurrection Stone from his finger, handing it out for Harry to take.

"Keep it for tonight," said Harry. "Maybe there are some people you'd like to talk to again for advice."

"Talk to…?" Neville said, confused. His eyes went wide as he realized the implications of the Stone, as if remembering what it could do for the first time. He could talk to Dumbledore again. He could talk to his parents again. He stared down at the ring with trembling fingers, placing it carefully back on his hand with a heavy sigh.

"I can stay with you if you'd like," Dahlia offered softly. "If you want the company."

"No," Neville said, shaking his head forlornly. "I need to be alone tonight. Just to...to mull things over."

Dahlia looked crestfallen by this, but she nodded in understanding. She linked arms with Fleur as Harry did the same with Ron, Apparating back to the warehouse in Diagon Alley.

Harry did not sleep well that night. He kept replaying the moment in his head, watching the green bolt of death rush towards Neville before being deflected away. How close he'd come to ending the boy's life. To winning the war. To corrupting his own soul. To defeating Voldemort. To extinguishing his sister star forever. Such a cruel and complicated task he had ahead of him, and he truly did not know what to do.

But Dahlia was right about one thing: he had to talk to his parents about this. To alleviate the burden that was consuming him whole. He would confide in them on the matter, even knowing full well that they would not be able to help him. But perhaps they could guide him, could help him rationalize what needed to be done, or at least share in the responsibility of the terrible task.

You've come this far, Harry told himself to force the uneasiness from his mind. Your soul is already damned for what you've done...what's one more senseless murder at this point?