Harry's screams and sobs caught the attention of the group of three walking towards the Gryffindor Common Room. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all rushed up the stairs leading to the top of the Astronomy Tower. Ron threw open the door and all three sprinted over to where Harry lay on the cold, stone floor, Ginny reaching him first.

"Harry! I know you think all of this is your fault, but we wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. You sacrificed yourself to Voldemort for us, Harry," Ginny told Harry, kneeling down next to him and holding his face in her hands.

Harry looked up for the first time and saw those familiar chocolate brown eyes swimming with tears, the same eyes that served as fuel to his fire on the Horcrux Hunt. However, Harry couldn't remember ever seeing them so dull, lifeless, and bloodshot. It WAS his fault, no matter what anyone said.

"If I hadn't been so thick and selfish and impulsive, there wouldn't have been any need for a battle. Everyone would still be here," Harry muttered, more to himself than anyone else. He tried to sit up and scoot away from Ginny (he couldn't let himself allow her to dirty her hands by touching him) when a pain rivaling the Cruciatus Curse shot through his chest, wrenching a gasp and a groan of pain from his throat. Opening his eyes after the pain had begun to subside infinitesimally, the last thing Harry saw was the worry in Ginny's eyes as he blacked out, falling with a soft thud to the stone floor of the Astronomy Tower.

***

Harry awoke an hour later in a vaguely familiar bed. The white stone walls were lined with cabinets stocked with glass vials of various shapes and sizes filled with an assortment of differently-colored potions. He assumed he was in the Hospital Wing, confirmed by a quick survey of his bedside table, laden with Strengthening Solutions, jars of Burn-Healing and Bruise Removal Paste (the latter a Weasley's Wizard Wheezes product, Harry noted with a mixture of pride, satisfaction, shame, and grief), Blood-Replenishing Potion, and Dreamless Sleep Potion.

Upon looking to the other side of his bed, Harry saw a group of red-haired people, along with a flash of bushy brown hair. They were all facing him but none had noticed he had awoken. Harry reached with an open hand for his glasses on the bedside table when a strange sensation hit his fingers and traveled up his spine. After putting on his glasses, he noticed Professors McGonagall and Flitwick moving their wands in complex motions.

"Why was there a ward around my bed?" Harry asked as soon as he heard the sounds of the rooms rush to his ears, the absence of which he hadn't registered until it was gone.

"Mr. Pott - Harry," McGonagall began, a look of near-maternal concern etched in the lines of her face, despite the relief and also a trace of confusion evident in her eyes. "How did you know we had placed wards around your bed?"

"Well, the main reason was that I saw you and Professor Flitwick performing some complicated spell using the opposite wand movements I had used to put up our protective enchantments this past year. I also noticed that the Weasleys and Hermione were all looking in my direction but hadn't noticed that I was awake. The last part I don't quite understand myself. I raised my hand up and felt a sensation in my hand. It's really hard to describe, though. The best I can do is to say that when it happened, I felt like I should be hearing a buzzing noise, although I didn't hear anything until the ward was down."

"Harry, it sounds like you detected the magic of the ward! That's really advanced magic. Only a handful witches and wizards have ever been able to do that," Hermione burst excitedly at this new development. Both professors left, knowing that they would be able to ask Harry about this later.

"That's the sort of magic that Dumbledore did. I'm not a great wizard like he was," Harry said as heat rose in his cheeks.

"People are going to disagree with that, mate," Ron argued. "I mean, you beat bloody Voldemort!"

"RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY! You are not to use foul language! You should know better," Mrs. Weasley admonished, but she was cut off by Harry before she could erupt into a full-blown lecture.

"I didn't do it alone, Ron. I couldn't have. You and Hermione did at least as much as me in making sure the Voldemort could and would die, and we didn't have a chance without Dumbledore's help. And I definitely couldn't have done what I did without everyone who fought here against long odds. Especially not without those who gave their lives fighting," Harry said, looking everywhere but at the Weasleys, especially George.

Harry knew he'd eventually have to face the Weaselys and try to apologize for what he did to their family. He decided that the time would be now. Because Ron, Hermione, and Ginny seemed to have convinced themselves that Harry wasn't at fault, he realized it would be best to spell out his guilt for them. Harry took a deep breath before making sure he looked each Weasley in the eye. Mr. Weasley, Bill, and Charlie all looked back with a degree of solemn respect and pride, like fathers or older brothers would. Harry thought he would be sick. Mrs. Weasley had never looked more concerned for Harry, he thought, nor so proud, or old, for that matter. Percy's emotions were evident in the tears in his eyes. Reunited with a brother only to have him taken away. Percy would understand the best. Ginny looked hurt. Harry couldn't tell why, but she was obviously in pain. Ron looked exasperated at Harry's "nobility" but also grief-stricken at the memory of the battle. George looked devastated. The usual mischievous twinkle in his eye was gone, replaced with dull, lifeless, emotionless eyes. He looked like he wasn't all there, which in all reality, was quite true. Finally, Harry couldn't stand to look at another freckled face, so he looked at a spot on the wall over Ron's shoulder as he began to talk.

"Colin and Tonks and Remus and F-Fred all came to fight in a battle that never would have happened if I hadn't been reckless and used my connection with Voldemort. They never would have had to fight if I hadn't been so thick and had thought out what I was doing. I would have been able to turn myself over to Voldemort when he first asked me to. They never would have died if I had done what Dumbledore told me to do. If I had just been faster, I could have saved them. All of them. No one would have to explain to the Creeveys why their underage son was killed in a battle against a Dark Army. Teddy Lupin wouldn't have to grow up an orphan. And you all wouldn't be missing a brother and a son. They died because of me."

Harry looked down at his hands again, like he had with Malfoy, as if he could see the blood on them. Tears stung at the corners of his eyes as they threatened to fall down his cheeks, but Harry refused to cry. It wasn't his place to grieve for people he had sent to death like lambs to the slaughter. He was -

"OW! Why'd you hit me, Ron?" Harry asked, rubbing the sore spot on his shoulder.

"You really are as thick as you say are, aren't you? D'you reckon we were all in this room for an hour staring at the spot where we knew you were, although we couldn't see you, because we blamed you at all for what happened to our brother? Hell, he was practically your brother. Harry, no one here blames you," Ron replied, his exasperation evident in his tone.

"But you should blame me! Some one has to! If it weren't for me -"

"If it weren't for you, Harry, Voldemort would have killed us all," Hermione interrupted.

"One of you must be angry at me for what I did to Fred. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, you have to be angry with me." Both Mr. and Mrs. Weasley firmly shook their heads no. "Bill, Charlie. Your little brother is gone. It's my fault. Don't you want to hit me like Ron did?" Bill and Charlie caught each other's eye and firmly shook their heads in the negative. "Percy, you had just reunited with your brother and then he was killed. I - " Percy raised up a hand to stop Harry and shook his head, smiling sadly. "Ginny - " Ginny sure looked angry, but she, too, shook her head no. Before Harry could even look at the next person, he was cut off.

"Harry, what's it like to die?" George asked, his voice quiet and unsteady. Although a childish question, Harry had asked the same thing and knew the comfort the answer could bring.

"It's quicker and easier than falling asleep," Harry replied, and George nodded his approval, some of the life returning to his eyes.

Ron stepped forward and sat next to Harry on the bed, his long legs stretched out with the right over the left, and his hands clasped behind head. "Since none of us blame you, are you going to talk to Dennis Creevey and hope he's looking for revenge? Or are you going to wait until Teddy Lupin grows up a bit and then try to tell him the familiar lie that his godfather is the reason his parents are dead?" Ron asked, his brows narrowed as he stared hard at Harry.

"Dunno," Harry mumbled, unable to meet Ron's gaze.

"Did you just say 'Dunno'?" Ron asked incredulously. "You're not sure if you're going to bide your tide and wait in the shadows to spring this on Teddy on his first trip out to Hogsmeade in his third year?"

"S'pose not," was Harry's reply, red in the face from frustration and embarrassment. After a long silence, he spoke again, "So maybe it wasn't entirely my fault."

A triumphant smile broke across Ron's face as Hermione sighed in relief, both knowing the worse of Harry's self-pity was over. Harry looked out the window and across the grounds to where Albus Dumbledore's tomb lay. Harry could see the damage from where he was lying.

"I have to go take care of something," he began, glancing at Madam Pomfrey who was trying her best to stay out of the way of the personal moment. "Am I free to go?"

"I suppose," Madam Pomfrey replied reluctantly. "The worst of it is over. You won't need anymore potions, though I would suggest you taking some of the Dreamless Sleep Potion for now. And please, don't over-exert yourself. Curse scars are bad enough. The Killing Curse makes them worse."

Harry looked down for the first time and noticed he was shirtless. His face couldn't get any redder, so he managed to notice a lightning-bolt scar, identical to the one on his forehead, but much larger, in the middle of his chest. He glanced around and saw his shirt lying on a chair next to the bed. Harry reached for it and it flew to him before he could lean over to grab it, eliciting a small, excited squeak from Hermione. "We'll talk about this later," he told his friends as he pulled the shirt over his stomach. "Let's go."

Harry got up and walked to the door, followed immediately by Ron and Hermione, who were hand in hand. He grabbed the door hand and turned back, catching Ginny's eye. "Aren't you coming?" Ginny's scowl softened dramatically as she walked over to Harry and followed the trio out of the Hospital Wing and down the staircase to the Entrance Hall.

Harry closed his eyes and used his Occlumency to block out the noise of the Great Hall as he walked by it and out onto the grounds. The four of them headed for Dumbledore's tomb, and, upon reaching it, Harry became enraged at what Voldemort had done. Ginny's hand found Harry's, calming him immediately, allowing him to remember why he was here. Harry pulled the Elder Wand from his mokeskin pouch and placed it carefully in the hands of his surprisingly well-preserved former Headmaster and mentor. Retrieving his own holly wand, Harry placed the tip against where the crack began.

"Reparo."

The marble began to melt together and just as the tomb was finally sealed, a great flash of fire appeared.

"Fawkes?" Harry asked, although he clearly recognized the brilliant scarlet phoenix resting atop the marble, peering at him reverently.