“Damnit! I need a Healer here, now!” screamed a frantic Ginny Weasley. “Where is everyone?!”

“They’re coming, Ginny.” Hermione was doing her utmost to keep her friend calm, though it was difficult when she herself wanted to panic. “Look, here they are.”

Five witches and wizards were suddenly surrounding the trio, two wearing Healers robes, one of them looking positively ancient, the others wearing the robes of Healer students working as nursing staff. Ultimately, it took all five of the Healers and Hermione to pull Ginny off of her catatonic fiancé. To prevent violence, they consented to allow her to hold Harry’s hand while they levitated him down the hallway to a secured room.

Once they were in the clinically white room with Harry lying comfortable on the bed and Ginny sitting in the visitor’s chair desperately clutching his had, the elder Healer began asking questions.

“Now, what seems to be the problem with Mr. Potter, here?”

“Harr... wait, how did you know who he is?!” demanded Ginny.

“Miss Weasley, I don’t think there’s a witch or wizard in England who doesn’t know Mr. Potter. And there’s not a literate person in the magical world who wouldn’t recognize the beautiful girl who has so stolen his heart. Not to mention Miss Granger over there, friend and fellow warrior to Mr. Potter. Why do you think we brought him here to the secured rooms? These are only usually used for Aurors,” he placated her. “Now, please, if we’re to help him, we need to know what happened.”

Ginny stared studiously at each member of the hospital staff in the room until Hermione broke into her thoughts moments later, “Ginny! Harry might not have time for this. Tell them.”

“I... I’m sorry.” Ginny was quite visible troubled to all in the room. “I... Could I see your arms, first?”

There was a moment of shock on four of the Healers’ faces, but the elder Healer responded immediately by pulling up his left sleeve and presenting his forearm. A glare at the rest of his staff caused all of them to mimic his actions.

“There, we’re not Death Eaters. All of our staff undergo strict searches before we hire them. It’s part of the new requirements instated after the war. Now, you must tell us what happened.”

“He was hit by... by a spell. He was saving me!” Ginny said, breaking down into tears.

“Miss Granger? Did you recognize it?”

“Not really, no. It was an odd, sickly yellow color that I’ve not seen before. And the incantation started with a ‘D’. ‘D-e’ or ‘D-a,’ something like that. I didn’t hear the whole thing, I was casting my own stunner.”

The Healers immediately began to cast diagnostic spells over Harry when the door opened and several Aurors entered, followed by the Minister for Magic, who wore a very concerned look on his face.

“We just came from the alley. The Death Eaters were former ministry personnel who sided with Voldemort after the takeover. They were, up until now, unaccounted for. We still don’t know how they’ve avoided the raids thus far,” explained Kingsley. He then looked at Harry on the bed and asked, “How is he?”

“We’re not sure, Minister,” said the other healer. “It seems to be a curse of some kind, but we’re having trouble isolating its effects. We can’t tell if these physical problems are directly caused by the spell or side effects of some other trauma the spell caused.”

“I see. As of now, this ward will be sealed by my authority. Even Aurors will need my expressed permission to be treated here, is that understood?”

“Yes, Minister,” responded two of the Healer trainees, one of them leaving the room to deliver the instructions to the ward chief.

With a nod, two of the Aurors left to secure the hall and Kingsley looked at two women in the room, “Ginny, the Healers will fix him, you have to know that.” At her sleight nod from her position next to the bed, he asked, “What happened?”

“We were... were in Diagon Alley. There are still several things to work out for our wedding next mo... month. Several Death Eaters came running out of Knockturn Alley. They came right for us, I think they were waiting for us. But...” She was interrupted when the door opened and the trainee from earlier re-entered, carrying several potions on a tray. “They came right for us. Harry must have heard them or something, because he pushed me out of the way, turned and started casting spells at them faster then I could react. I never even saw him draw his wand...”

Ginny was obviously succumbing to the shock of the situation, so Hermione continued for her. “He took down two of them, but cast a shield at Ginny when the third went for her instead of him. Then the Death Eater used that delay to cast a spell at Harry. I finally had my wand out by this point and stunned the third one, but it was too late. He got the spell off and it hit Harry.”

“It wasn’t either of your faults, you know that, right?” said Kingsley.

Hermione nodded, but Ginny physically began to wilt. Her complexion was becoming even paler than usually, and finally she collapsed head-first onto Harry and began crying. The elder Healer was right next to her and kept her from falling out of the chair, rubbing her back comfortingly.

“Samuels, give me the,” but he didn’t need to finish his order. The trainee who had brought in the potions, obviously Samuels, was holding a phial with a greenish liquid in it. “Thanks. We’ll need to get her to a room.”

“That’s probably not the best of ideas,” commented Hermione. At the questioning glances, she explained, “You won’t want to be around her when she wakes if you separate her from Harry. My suggestion would be to bring another bed in.”

“Now listen here, young lady,” began the younger of the two Healers. “I don’t really care who you all are, this hospital has policies and...”

“And we can bend the policies for the good of the patients,” interjected his partner. “If she would react as you say, then taking her to another room to calm her would be a bit counterproductive. Wouldn’t you agree, Healer Davis?” After a nasty glance followed by a nod, he instructed the other two students to go find a bed to move in.

Kingsley spoke up, “I have some friends in Spell Research. I’ll see if they’ll look into this for me. They’ll keep it quiet for a friend.”

Before he could leave, Hermione asked, “Minis... Kingsley,” she corrected herself at his glare. “Could I... maybe...?”

His look softened and he nodded, “Of course. Come with me.”

Ginny woke up and panicked, her surroundings were very unfamiliar. Quickly, though, the events that brought her here flooded back into her mind: the attack, the Portkey shoved at her by an Auror, the very nice old Healer and her eventual collapse by Harry’s bed. She was then aware of someone holding her hand, and when she opened her eyes to look, she found her own bed was next to Harry’s and their hands were hanging, clasped between them.

Looking around the room, she saw her mother dozing in a big, squishy chair in the corner that she didn’t remember from earlier. She rolled to get a better look at Harry, and the motion instantly woke her mother.

“Ginny!” she cried out, though quietly. She hurried over to the bedside and hugged her daughter. “I’m so glad you’re safe. I was so worried. The Healers told me it was just shock and exhaustion, but seeing you lying next to Harry like that...”

“I’m okay, really, Mum. I just... How is Harry, have they said?” Ginny asked, the desperation clear in her voice.

“Sorry, dear. But I’m afraid they don’t know much more than yesterday. Hermione was given access to the Spell Research library with Kingsley’s help, and she thinks she’s onto something, but as of yet...”

Mrs. Weasley still had Ginny wrapped in a hug, which Ginny now returned with her free hand as she started crying once more. “I can’t loose him, Mum. Not now. Not after everything.”

“Shhh, shhh. It will be fine. You’ll see. They’ll figure it out and Harry will be ready for your big day. Don’t you worry about it.”

She rocked her daughter until she fell back asleep. As she was sitting back in her chair, the door opened and admitted Hermione, Kingsley and Healer Elger, the elder Healer from the previous day.

“I found it,” stated Hermione, reading from a tome in her hands. “It’s the Dementus Curse. It’s similar to effect of Dementors — and we all know how well Harry handles those — but instead of removing happy feelings and forcing a person to relive bad moments, it forces a person to relive all of their perceived past transgressions. The book says nothing about this type of effect, though.”

“Oh!” cried out Mrs. Weasley, waking Ginny.

“What? What is it?!”

“I figured it out, Ginny. I know what Harry was hit with.” Hermione proceeded to reread the section from the book, and Ginny’s reaction was very similar to her mother’s.

“But, Harry feels guilt for things that weren’t his ‘transgressions.’ If he has to relive all of that...”

Hermione nodded her realization, and Healer Elger walked over to Harry to cast several more spells. “Yes, I do believe that is the problem. An extremely negative emotional reaction has locked him in his own mind. I’m afraid that if we cannot pull him out of this, he may be driven into insensibility, locked away permanently.”

Tears began running from Ginny’s eyes, but her face took on a hard look and she defiantly stated, “No! We will get Harry back and we will be married next month.”

“I’ll figure something out, Ginny. I promise you, I will,” said Hermione with the same steel in voice as Ginny.

Ginny woke up once more, this time she was lying in Harry’s bed. She remembered casting several hexes at the healing staff when they tried to remove her. There was a minor scuffle trying to remove Ginny until Healer Elger arrived and pointed out that several of Harry’s vitals were more normal with Ginny in such close proximity. The floating spells looked the same to her as they had earlier, but the other Healers relented.

It had been several days since Hermione discovered the Dementus Curse, but they still didn’t have a solution to the problem. Healer Elger, while always upbeat and pleasant, had indicated that he didn’t know now much longer Harry could survive and still stay sane. Ginny was growing desperate.

Her family had all visited over the last few days. After a flaming row with her mother, Mrs. Weasley brought several changes of clothes and would take her dirty laundry everyday to clean. Ginny was unsure which feeling was worse: the battle when Harry died, or now when she was so close to having him, but so close to never having him again.

She wrapped her arms more tightly against Harry, holding on as if her strength alone could pull him back. As she had started to do when she first learned about the curse, she whispered in his ear that none of the deaths from the war were his fault. She was sure that if he could overcome that guilt, he would come back to her and they could work out the rest.

The door opened, interrupting her ‘therapy’ with Harry, and Hermione, Kingsley and, surprisingly, George came into the room.

“I think we might have figured it out, Ginny.” Ginny looked on expectantly. “We didn’t tell you earlier because we didn’t want to get your hopes up, but I found a dangerous spell that allows communing with the dead. It’s extremely dangerous; it could quite possibly kill anyone in the room when the spell is cast. Unfortunately, the spell requires all the participants to be awake.”

“But... Harry...”

“That’s where I come in,” said George. “One of our test prank items was a Doozy Dream Deviser. We decided that there was too high a chance that it could be used for bad things, so we never produced it, but I still have the prototype.”

“What does it do?” asked Ginny hopefully.

“It allows whatever is showed to it to be inserted into the unconscious dreams of the pranked. Like I said, there’s too much possibility people could do bad things with them. But for something like this...”

Ginny caught on quickly. “We cast the spell and invite the dead to talk to Harry. We use the Dream thingy to show whatever they say to Harry.”

“That’s our plan,” confirmed Hermione. “But I need to point out again, this could kill any of us who are here for the spell.”

“I don’t care,” stated Ginny. “I’m going to be here for this.”

“I figured as much. I’ll need to be here to cast the spell. We should probably have a Healer, too, just in case, but I don’t know that we can ask a Healer to risk it.”

“Then I’ll volunteer,” said Healer Elger from the doorway. “I came by to check on our patient when I overheard your discussion. I will, of course, need to check out the dream device before I allow its use on a patient, but if it works, I will volunteer to take part in the spell.”

“Healer Elger, you understan...” started Hermione.

“Miss Granger, I understand better than you perhaps think. I lost my wife in You-Know-Who’s rise to power twenty three years ago. I’ve dedicated my life to healing others, and I have enjoyed every last bit of it as much as I could. If the man who defeated my wife’s murderer requires me to risk what’s left of my life to make sure he has a happy one, I will gladly do so.”

Ginny jumped up out of Harry’s bed and ran to Healer Elger, hugging him tightly around the middle. “Thank you, thank you.”

“Miss Weasley, if anyone deserves a happy life, it’s your young man there in that bed. I know how hard this has been on you, I went through a similar time when my wife was dying. I will do my best to prevent you that final pain.”

“When should we do this?” asked Hermione, tears visible in her own eyes.

“I’ll test the device tonight with Mr. Weasley’s help and, assuming all goes well, we can try this tomorrow.”

“The device met with your approval?” asked Hermione.

“It did. I could see much use for this device in medicine. I’ve already started working with Mr. Weasley on a contract to produce several for the hospital.

“I could have done without the rubber duck, though,” he finished his comment towards a grinning George.

“We had to know it was actually working! A picture of your wife? Really? It wouldn’t surprise me in the least that you would dream of your wife, so I just wanted to make sure it was induced by the device and not just a normal dream.”

“I don’t think I’m going to even ask,” mumbled Hermione.

“That’s probably for the best,” agreed Healer Elger.

“So, anyone who is not taking part in this ritual, you should leave now,” Hermione instructed to the room.

The Weasley family had been visiting, on behalf of both Ginny and Harry. They stood up, each hugging Ginny on the way out, each offering a wish of luck, and made their way out. Ron spent an extra long moment hugging his girlfriend. There were several Healers present who had been performing checks on all the spell participants that also left. Finally, only Hermione, Ginny, Healer Elger, Harry and George were left. When Hermione quirked her eyebrow and the single twin, he merely commented that he was the only one who could fix the Dream Device if something went wrong.

Chairs were set up around Harry’s bed — Ginny’s bed had been pushed out of the way — and the participants sat down. George placed a small cylindrical device on Harry’s chest, one end of it pointed off to the side in the direction of Harry’s shoulder. Once he was sure it was in place and not falling off, everyone looked to Hermione for instruction.

“I’ve done a bit more studying to understand exactly how this spell works,” Hermione began to explain. “This is a type of Communus Charm, one hardly ever used because of its unpredictability, as well as the dangers of the casting. The spell binds itself to the will of the casters, the more casters, the stronger the effects of the spell. It will call forth the spirits of the dead, which of course is the most dangerous part.

“According to the book, we may feel certain compulsions when the dead cross forth. It is vital that we maintain our wills, our desires to help Harry, and not follow through with the compulsions. If we were to follow the compulsions and break the spell, the backlash would most certainly kill anyone attached to the spell. It’s possible that with so many of us casting the spell, the compulsions will be diminished, spread through us all, or it’s just as possible that so many casters will increase the strength of the compulsions. I just don’t know.

“We won’t be able to control who comes across with the spell — that’s one of the more unpredictable parts. The dead will respond as they feel is necessary based on the will we put behind the casting. Once here, they will talk only to Harry as he is the focus of the spell. We will not be able to interact with them at all. The only thing we can do is listen and keep our force of will, denying any compulsions that would interfere with the spell.

“Finally, Ginny, you need to understand that this many not work at all. I know how to cast the spell, but for obvious reasons, I couldn’t practice it.”

“Hermione,” said Ginny, “If anyone can cast this spell on their first try, it will be you. I know you can do this.”

“Thanks, Ginny. But I just wanted you to know. And even if it does work like we want, it may not reach Harry, even with George’s device.”

“I know. But I can’t think like that. This will work. Harry will come back to me.”

There was a moment of silence before Hermione continued, “Okay, everyone needs to look at Harry. Keep him, and your desire to help him, foremost in your mind. I’ll cast the spell, the part that is shaped by our will, and then I’ll include each of you in the spell. Finally, I’ll cast a third part that will be the actual calling. Please, whatever you feel, remember to keep Harry first.”

Hermione pulled out her wand and looked at Harry. She looked at his sleeping face, his hand gripping tightly to Ginny’s in her chair, his slightly pallid complexion, and knew she would whatever was needed to help him. Pointing her wand at him, she cast “Defermortu,” causing Harry to briefly glow a dim purple. She then pointed her wand at each person around the table and cast “Contine.” As the spell was cast on them, a thin purple line connected them to Harry before fading away.

Finally, Hermione pointed her wand towards an open spot across from Ginny at Harry’s head and cast “Exor!” The entire room was bathed in a green light that faded after a few moments. Hermione was worried that it hadn’t worked. She wanted to get up walk out in frustration, maybe go check her book again. But Harry was in front of her on the bed, he needed her help. Then she realized what was happening.

“No!” she whispered. “It did work, I need to help Harry.”

Her comment was enough, she now noticed the others — except Ginny who was staring resolutely at Harry — had the same insecurities written on their faces, all of which now hardened as they looked back at the occupant of the bed. Suddenly, the ghost of Fred Weasley was standing next to Harry.

“Harry, Harry, Harry, what are we going to do with you?” the ghost said, oblivious to everyone else in the room. This was made apparent when George audibly gasped at his twin’s appearance and there was no reaction. “I knew what I was doing, Harry. I knew that I might not walk away from the battle. I did it anyway. Do you know why?” The ghost leaned over and whispered into Harry’s ear, but it was loud enough for the whole room to hear, “I’m a Gryffindor, Harry, just like you.

“Neither George nor I could sit idly by when someone was doing wrong. We helped you with Umbridge, didn’t we? And don’t you dare feel guilty about that either. School just wasn’t doing it for us anymore. You helped us more than you know with that startup money.

“No, we, all of us Weasleys, knew that we might not walk out when we went to that battle. That I was the only death in the family is somewhat of a miracle, all things considered, and we have you to thank for that. Your work, your sacrifice saved them, Harry. Now take care of yourself. Live your life, make my sister happy. If you want my forgiveness — you certainly don’t need it — but if you want it, you have to stop feeling guilty so that you can be with Ginny.

“If you don’t stop this, I swear I’m going to come back and prank you for the rest of your days. Oh, and tell George to get his head out of his arse and get to pranking. And dating. Yeah, he definitely needs a girl...”

Fred faded away and George jumped up, intent on running to where his twin had just been. Hermione, however, grabbed his arm and said, “George! Harry!” George stopped his motion and sat back down, tears leaking from his eyes as he once again faced Harry lying in his bed.

Moments later, another blue tinged, translucent figure appeared at the top of the bed. She was slim and had short, spiky hair that, despite having no apparent color, was still obviously pink. Tonks looked sadly down at the bed’s comatose occupant. She took a step forward and proceeded to trip — over what, no one could tell, she was a ghost — and fell right through Harry and his bed.

After she righted herself, she looked around to make sure no one had seen her and then turned back to Harry. “It wasn’t your fault, you know. I’m sure you feel that if you had just gotten those damn items sooner, or given yourself up earlier, or any number of other things, that I wouldn’t have had to die. But those things didn’t happen. They didn’t happen because they couldn’t happen.

“You needed the time to hunt for those bloody artifacts. You couldn’t have found them any faster than you did. And giving yourself up sooner wouldn’t have worked. Snape hadn’t told you what you needed to know. If anything, you might be able to argue that it was his fault — him and his petty jealousies.

“But none of that matters, Harry. I fought so that my ch... my child could live a life of freedom. And that’s why I won’t blame you. You need to be around for Teddy, because I can’t. I would only ever blame you if you ignored him, and I know you won’t do that, it’s not who you are. You don’t need my forgiveness, but I’ll give it to you anyway. Just take care of Mum and Teddy, please. That’s all I ask.”

As the ghostly image of Tonks faded away, Ginny reached forward and brushed a tear off of Harry’s cheek. “Are you listening, love? It’s not your fault. Come back to me.”

Another round of insecurities passed through the spell occupants, but they recognized it for what it was. Glancing at each other, three of the four occupants noticed that Ginny hadn’t moved, she maintained her vigil, her eyes never leaving Harry, as if he was the only thing that existed. They settled back in, and the next figure appeared.

“Harry, you were right, you know. I was running away. I was afraid. I don’t think I’ve really trusted anyone ever since Sirius — well, Peter, but I thought it was Sirius — betrayed us. I couldn’t even let myself get close to you. I should have tried, even after I left the school, but it was just another rejection in a long line of them.

“I should have been the friend, the uncle, that James and Lily would have wanted. When Sirius died, I should have made sure you understood that I was there for you. But I didn’t. I did love you, though. You know that, right? You were the best of both James and Lily, and I couldn’t have asked for a better friend, because you were that to me, even if I didn’t let you know.

“Don’t you dare think that my death was your fault. It lays firmly at the feet of Voldemort and his followers. I fought them for you, for Teddy, for Tonks and for all the students that I had come to know as their teacher. I fought because it was the right thing and the easy thing. There was no other choice, not for any Gryffindor, not for any Marauder worthy of those titles.

“Be there for Teddy, Harry. Be for him what I should have been for you. Do that so that I know you forgive me, Harry. I couldn’t stand it if you hated me for what I should have done for you. Do that, and you will never need my forgiveness. Family always forgives, no matter what.”

“I can feel you holding tighter, Harry,” came Ginny’s voice. “You know they’re right. Stop denying it.”

As she finished talking, the next visitor appeared. His short, mousy hair did nothing the hide the exuberance on his deceptively young face. Even Ginny hissed in surprise at his appearance.

“Hey, Harry! It’s always good to see you! I’d say I wish I had my camera, but, well, I’m not sure I’d want a picture of you like this. You’re supposed to be the hero! You’re not supposed to be lying there feeling guilty.

“I know you don’t want to be the hero. After all those lessons in the DA, I know you well enough to know that. But that’s the thing, Harry, heroes never want to be. They just are.

“I didn’t want to fight. But I did, because you taught me that I could do the right thing without being afraid of it. And it was the right thing to fight back. They would have killed me, Dennis and my parents if I didn’t fight. You gave that to me, Harry, the ability to fight back.

“I don’t know why you’d be asking my forgiveness. I should be asking for yours: I’ve let you down. They got me, I wasn’t as good as I should have been. But you got them in the end, Harry. I couldn’t be happier knowing that my death gave you that much extra time, that much less resistance when the time came. I don’t know why you would want the forgiveness of little old me, but you have it, Harry. I was thrilled to be your friend. Take lots of pictures for me, okay?”

“Good lord, I don’t think I realized how young... I knew of course, it was all in the paper. But you were all so young, too young even. You should never have had to to fight,” said the Healer after Colin was gone. “How did you... I don’t... How?”

“Harry taught us,” explained Ginny, never looking away from Harry. “And I think he’s finally starting to listen. I can feel it in his grip.”

By focusing everyone back onto Harry, the conversation stopped, and moments later the next guest arrived. There were exclamations around the room at the sallow, hooked nosed, greasy haired visitor.

“Potter, don’t tell me you feel guilty for me. That would be the ultimate insult. I most certainly do not need a Potter feeling bad for me. I made my choices long ago, and I let them influence me long past proper. I convinced myself that you were you father, and you are, don’t get me wrong. You have his arrogance, his belief that he’s always right, his penchant for breaking the rules.

“But you are your mother as well. I ignored it, of course. It hurt too much, not that I’d admit it if it weren’t for this damnable spell. Who decided upon this, by the way? That know-it-all Granger? It must have been.

“No, Potter, my choices were my own. You did nothing to speed my demise. I should have told you earlier, Albus warned me. And the old codger was almost correct, too. If you hadn’t come along when you did...

“No matter. I won’t forgive you, Potter. I will not have you feeling sorry for me, and if you hate me until the end of my days because of it, so be it. Now stop being an attention seeking glory hound and get back to your life.”

“Bitter bat even after the end, isn’t he,” remarked George.

“Yes, now shut up,” said Ginny. “Can’t you see? The compulsions to break the spell are dying. That means it’s working. It has to mean it’s working,” she finished in a whisper.

With that, a tall ghost with a long translucent beard appeared looking at his surroundings, but apparently saw no one there.

“Fascinating. This must be Miss Granger’s work. Truly amazing.”

At that point, his gaze came to rest on Harry. The twinkle in his ghostly eyes died just a bit before Albus Dumbledore begun to smile once more.

“You did it, Harry. You defeated him, and you didn’t have to be the one to ‘kill’ him in the process. You used your mind and the information available, and you figured it out. I knew you could.

“Ah, I see. You blame yourself for my death. No, Harry, you should know better. Severus showed you my plan, I know he did. I knew full well what I was doing when I immobilized you. I’m just sorry I couldn’t explain it to you first. I’m sorry about a lot of things in my dealings with you, you know.

“One of the things about being so old, Harry, is that the young keep getting younger. You forget exactly how it was when you were that age. I should have told you a great many things. The prophecy, my plans for the Hallows, the Horcruxes and my suspicions, they all would have given you a better chance. I don’t think you needed it, but that really shouldn’t have been my choice to make.

“Harry, I lived a long, happy life. I fought battles I never wanted to fight, I got involved in politics when I just wanted to help. But most fulfilling, I worked with the youth, teaching and guiding them towards the future. I have regrets in my life — you don’t live over a century without having some — but I died the way I wanted. It kept young Mr. Malfoy from becoming a murderer and it helped keep Severus firmly entrenched at Hogwarts to protect our students.

“No, Harry, I do not regret how I died, only that you had to see it. You did everything I had asked that evening, everything I’ve ever asked of you. I could not be more proud of you for everything you have done. You have nothing to feel guilty for. I told you to make sure I drank that potion. I made sure you were unable to help me against Severus. I knew what I was doing.

“Instead, I must ask your forgiveness: for not telling you things sooner, for not letting you know I was aware of Mr. Malfoy, for not informing you of my plans involving Severus. I made your life unnecessarily harder, and for that, Harry Potter, I beg your forgiveness. You don’t have to give me an answer now. In fact, I would appreciate it if you didn’t give it to me for many, many years. Go on, Harry, live your life with your friends and family. I believe you have a certain redhead waiting desperately for your return.”

“I knew Albus personally. I was his physician for several years,” stated Healer Elger. “He was never afraid to admit his mistakes, but I have never heard him ask forgiveness for so many at one time. He must have felt deeply for Mr. Potter.”

“I believe he looked at Harry like a grandson. He never said as much, but he was hurt at the way he treated Harry after our fifth year,” Hermione replied.

“He always looked out for Harry’s best interests. Anyone could see it. Snape saw it, and it drove him crazy with jealousy,” said Ginny. She was looking intently at Harry’s face. “He’s not angry anymore.”

Everyone turned to study Harry’s face and failed to see Sirius arrive.

“Harry, how could you possibly think it was your fault? You did exactly what I would have done, what I in fact did. You came to rescue me. You did what you could to make sure it was real, and you were wrong. You’ll be wrong more times in your life, I guarantee it, but don’t feel guilty, ever, for doing what you think is right.

“You want my forgiveness? You got it. But only if you can forgive me, too. I should have ended it, Harry, I knew better. Instead, I had to taunt her, to let old childhood rivalries get in the way. In many ways, what I did wasn’t much better than Snivillus, and look what it got me.

“I got myself killed, Harry, and I never want to hear you say otherwise.

“I came for you, and if it wasn’t there, at the Department of Mysteries, it would have been somewhere else. I would have always come to help you, Harry, no matter the place or the reason. That I died coming to your aid, I will never regret that. I only regret leaving you alone afterwards.

“Don’t do that, Harry. Don’t leave the ones you love if you can help it.”

Sirius’ words resonated in the minds of those in the room long after he faded away. There were tears on the faces of Hermione, George, Ginny and even Harry, those who had known and loved Sirius. His words kept those present focused on their task. Any compulsion to think about something else, whether it was still there or not, was unable to break into their thoughts.

“You should have been a Hufflepuff, Harry,” said Cedric Diggory from the familiar position next to Harry. “I think I understand your guilt better than most of your friends for that reason. You’re loyal, and that loyalty means that if you can’t stop something, you didn’t try hard enough. Well, you did try, and it was hard enough, but it doesn’t matter. I forgive you Harry.

“I’d like to think that after becoming Champions, we would have become friends. You’re a good guy, Harry Potter.”

There was no wait this time. At Cedric faded away, two more figures faded in. There was no mistaking who they were.

“My dear, sweet boy. I cannot believe that we’re here. How could you possibly think that you were in any way at fault for what happened to us?” Lily Potter looked lovingly upon her son, her arm around the waist of her husband, his around her shoulders.

“Harry. Son. We made our choice. We chose our lives over yours. And we would gladly make the same choice again.

“If it’s the prophecy leading your guilt, that somehow because it was you in the prophecy that makes it your fault, I want you to quit that line of thinking this instant. Do you understand me, young man? Our choices were our own — not because of a prophecy, not because someone or something else made us... Our own.” James had the same determined look to him that Harry got when he was adamant about something.

“I’m sorry... We’re sorry that our deaths brought you a life of guilt and pain, but nothing could make us happier than that it at least brought you life. You have a good woman there, Harry, and friends you can count on. You have a family.

“My sister should never have done what she did to you. But it doesn’t matter anymore. Put it all behind you, and live for your future. We love you, Harry, and that’s all you ever need to know about us.” Lily interposed her hand over Harry’s cheek as if she were cupping it.

“We love you, Harry. Never forget that,” said James, pulling Lily close into him.

“I love you too, Mum, Dad,” mumbled Harry, now crying in earnest.

“Goodbye, Harry,” said Lily and James together as the faded away.

The group of Witches and Wizards waited for whatever was to happen next, willing with everything they had that Harry would no longer feel any guilt. There was nothing in the room but silence, revealing that they were each holding their breaths with their effort. Eventually the silence was broken.

“Come back to me, Harry. Please.”

There was a silent thunder, a boom with no noise that shook the room, though nothing moved. The door flew open, flooding the room with Aurors and Healers trying to make sure that nothing had gone wrong and that everyone was safe. Behind the front line of people, a gaggle of redheads, their wands drawn, were looking frantically for their family.

“We’re fine,” stated Hermione.

“Healer Elger?” asked one of the other Healers that had entered with the rush.

“We are, in fact, fine. And all indications seem to say that our little experiment worked. Now only time will tell,” he confirmed. “If you could please give us some breathing room?”

Slowly, the Aurors and Healers left the room, making their way around the Weasleys who were now approaching the group around the bed. Mrs. Weasley stood carefully behind Ginny, looking at the boy who was as good as one of her own. Ron walked over to Hermione, hugging her, and Bill and Charlie flanked George, placing hands on his shoulders.

“Harry?” asked Ginny as she noticed his eyes moving under their lids. Through the entire commotion, her focus never wavered from Harry. “Harry? Are you back?”

“Ginny,” he croaked.

“Harry!” she shouted in joy, leaping forward out of her chair to wrap Harry in her arms. “You’re okay!” she cried into him.

“Ginny?” he said again, the waiver in his voice unmistakable to her.

“Harry?”

“I... I...” he stuttered. The tears that flowed from his eyes when he was in a coma were flowing once more, and his breathing was noticeably uneven. It started as a whine, but very quickly became a wail. All the guilt and self-anger that he was overcoming, thanks to the words of his visitors that were now a part of his unconscious, came pouring from his throat in a heart rending cry. He grabbed desperately at Ginny, pulling him in close to her chest as he cried into her.

Ginny was having her own troubles holding back her tears with her Harry in so much pain. She hugged him to her, rubbing his back, crying her own tears as she did so. The others in the room looked on helplessly, though there was an acceptance among those who had been a part of the spell. From everything that was said, they understood fully what was being released and acknowledged it as necessary, even as it pulled at their hearts.

After nearly ten minutes Harry had cried himself to sleep, and Ginny fell down next to him, exhausted. Molly looked on softly as Ginny curled into Harry’s side and she shooed everyone from the room. As the Weasleys and Hermione left, Healer Elger looked at Molly and began to speak, but not a word left his mouth before she cut him off.

“They are exhausted. I wasn’t even in here and I can see that. There is nothing you need to know that you won’t be able to find out tomorrow.”

“Mrs. Weasley, while normally I might even bend to your maternal will, I cannot in this case. He has been through something that has never before been attempted. I need to run some tests.”

“You will not wake them up.”

“I can’t make th...”

“It wasn’t a request. You can cast your spells, but if it requires them awake, you will just have to wait.”

The Healer met her formidable stare and recognized a losing battle when he saw one, so he took the offered compromise. He cast several scanning charms over the both of them, checked the readings, and seemingly satisfied, preceded the Mrs. Weasley from the room under her stern gaze.

“Good night, you two. Be well, Harry,” she said before closing the door behind her.

A more perfect day couldn’t have been asked for. The sky was blue with only wisps of cloud drifting across. A soft breeze kept the sun from becoming stifling. Rows of chairs decorated the green lawn, and they were full of Harry and Ginny’s family and friends. The surviving members of the DA were present, as was most of Gryffindor house. Their professors from school were scattered through the seated crowd, and Healer Elger was seated up front with the Weasley family, next to a ravishing Andromeda holding her grandchild.

On the dais in front of everything stood Harry with Ron slightly behind. Directly in front of him was Ginny in a stunning white gown, behind whom stood Hermione. It was clear that Harry saw nothing else but the red haired vision of beauty in front of him, and Ginny was the same.

Only several weeks ago, it seemed that Harry might not be standing here. But, with the help of his family and friends, those here and those passed on, Harry had overcome his demons. Ginny spent the intervening weeks listening as Harry spilled forth the burdens of his soul, burdens he had not even been aware he was carrying. It was worth it all, however, because they were now here on this day, a day that Ginny had begun to plan when she was six years old, and Kingsley was speaking to them.

“Do you, Harry James Potter, take this woman as your lawfully wedded wife, magically bound and supported, in this life and the hereafter?”

“I do.”

“And do you, Ginevra Molly Weasley, take this man as your lawfully wedded husband, magically bound and supported, in this life and the hereafter?”

“I do.”

“Then I pronounce you Husband and Wife. You may now kiss.”

And they did.