Chapter Text
Harry Potter stood over the body of Albus Dumbledore, studying the quiet still face for a long moment. The Leader of the Light and Defeater of Grindlewald looked peaceful and at rest. There was no sign of the havoc he’d wreaked in the lives of those he led, no hints of the missteps he’d taken for “the Greater Good” in the elderly face, and Harry sighed.
Of course, there weren’t.
Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts and the most powerful wizard of his time, had been human... and fallible. There were no signs of the chaos he’d created in Harry’s life practically from the moment he’d been born, and Harry really hadn’t expected to see any. Taking a deep breath, Harry slipped the Elder Wand out of the arm holster Malfoy had given him and looked at it thoughtfully.
It vibrated against his fingers and he smiled ruefully. “No,” he said softly. “This is where you belong. When I die, you’ll be free.”
There was no mistaking the joy he sensed from the wand, and his smile, though still tired, became more genuine. Feeling better about his choice, Harry leaned forward and tucked the wand back into Dumbledore’s folded hands.
“There were so many things you could have done differently, old man,” he said softly. “So many things that, if you’d just bothered to think it all through, you might have realized they were rather cracked. But it’s done, and it’s over. I’m going to live my life the way I want, and no one’s going to have your sort of control over me ever again. I swear it.”
He wasn’t sure, but it almost seemed like he was surrounded by a glow when he said that. Must have been a trick of his very tired eyes. Overcome with fatigue, Harry knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, so with a yawn, he turned away from Dumbledore and the Elder Wand and left the quiet tomb, heading outside and into much fresher air.
Three people waited for him and he smiled tiredly as they came to him. “Ready?”
“Let’s do it,” said Ron grimly, pulling out his wand.
Hermione and Draco pulled out theirs as well, and Harry turned to face the tomb, his own holly wand raised, and they cast the spell to seal the tomb. Three goblins separated themselves from the shadows and looked up at the four teenagers.
“Our bargain?” Harry asked, hoping he didn’t sound as exhausted as he felt.
“You have ended Voldemort,” said Lugnot. “That surpasses the bargain you made with the Goblin Nation. We will seal and ward the tomb so that no one... no one may enter it.”
“Not even by Apparition?” asked Hermione shrewdly.
Lugnot looked insulted. “When goblins say no one may enter it, they mean by no means at all,” he said coldly, then looked back at Harry and held up a thick silver key. “However, we give this to you, Harry Potter, so that you alone may enter and retrieve what you left, should you ever need it. It will be keyed to the ward and work only for you, to allow you access.”
“I won’t need it,” said Harry firmly. “Ever.”
Lugnot studied him, then bowed his head. “If that is what you wish.” The key vanished in a burst of silver mist. “We shall seal the tomb... completely.” He gestured to his companions, and they spread out around the tomb, pulling boxes from their pockets that they set on the ground and enlarged with the staffs they’d been carrying. The tops of the staffs began to glow, and it was only at that moment that the teenagers realized the staffs were topped with large crystals.
Hermione would have stayed to watch, fascinated by the process, but Malfoy gently caught her elbow and tugged at it. “Come on, Granger, Weasel’s probably starving, and Potter looks like he’s ready to drop. The goblins know what they’re about.”
“But, I’ve read that goblin wards are incredibly complex, and I’m sure the process is fascinating...” she began, but Ron caught her other elbow, glaring at Malfoy over her head.
“You know they won’t start until we leave, Hermione,” he said reasonably. “Goblins are a bit secretive about their magic and only let those they trust witness it. And you can’t blame them, not really.”
“Well... no, but we’ve proved we can be trusted,” she began, and Malfoy snorted.
“No, not yet,” the Slytherin said as he caught Harry when his knees began to wobble and subtly supported him as they walked. “We kept our side of the bargain, and Harry’s made his offers to the Horde, but... we haven’t sworn vows. If and when we do, that’s when they’ll trust us.”
“Oh,” said Hermione, and she sighed, a hint of fatigue finally creeping into her voice. “It’ll all be so interesting...”
“Yes, utterly fascinating, get a move on, I have no intention of sleeping on the ground when there are perfectly good beds available in the castle,” Malfoy said snottily.
Harry grinned sleepily. It was all so familiar, Malfoy’s snark, Hermione’s curiosity, and Ron’s strained patience... he’d gotten so used to it over the last two years. He looked at them as they made it into the castle and headed for the stairs, watching these friends of his as they supported each other up the stairs. If anyone had told him fifth year that he’d end up being friends with Draco Malfoy, and even more important, that he’d convince Ron to get along with the Slytherin, he’d have told them they were barking.
Ron wrapped an arm around Harry’s waist and pulled him up. “Malfoy, why don’t you help Hermione. She’s more mobile than Boneless here.”
“He’d better not be boneless,” Harry heard Malfoy mutter, and he couldn’t help snickering.
“No,” said Ron good-naturedly before Harry could open his mouth. “Just no. I love you, mate, but really. I don’t want to know.”
“Fine,” Harry huffed. It wasn’t like he and Malfoy had actually done it, but Ron didn’t want to know. And Harry really didn’t want to discuss it, either.
Finally, there was a bed. A wonderful, lovely bed, with a thick, soft mattress, and lovely clean sheets and blankets, and pillows! He would have dived right in, but someone was haughtily telling him that he wasn’t getting into the nice clean bed in filthy clothes, or with his shoes on, and all he could do was nod and flap his hands uselessly as he was magically stripped down to his skin. Someone who sounded vaguely like Madame Pomfrey may have been involved at some point, because he was sure he heard her voice, and the tingling sting of the cleaning charm that rushed around him, followed by pajamas, had her feel to it. He didn’t particularly care, because all he wanted was to face-plant into the pillows.
Cool sheets surrounded him, a pillow mashed under his cheek, and Harry was out, sleeping the sleep of the just, with no dreams to trouble his rest.