Chapter Text
Harry awoke drenched in sweat, his body cold and clammy, his heart hammering in his chest. For a moment, he didn’t know where he was. His hands groped across the nightstand until they found his glasses and wand.
“Lumos,” he whispered. Soft light filled the room, illuminating familiar shadows and the quiet corners of his bedroom at 12 Grimmauld Place. Home.
Beside him, an arm was draped across his stomach—warm, steady. Percy. Carefully, Harry moved Percy Jackson’s arm off him, careful not to wake him. Percy shifted slightly but made no sound. Harry slipped from the bed, moving as quietly as he could across the room, mindful of the squeaky floorboards.
Hermione’s door was ajar. Harry dimmed his wand and peeked inside. He counted her breaths as her chest rose and fell, once, twice, three times; careful not to disturb her.
Sirius lay beside her, arm draped protectively across her. Alive. Both of them. Harry closed the door gently and continued down the hallway.
He pressed his ear against Remus and Tonks’ door. Remus snored softly; Teddy cooed faintly. Still, Harry needed to be sure. He placed a silencing charm on the door and eased it open. There they lay, peacefully sleeping. Alive. He shut the door quietly and descended the stairs, passing the bickering of Kreacher and Dobby. Alive. That was enough.
Harry glanced at his watch. 04:30. He opened a window, letting the cold air rush in to clear the fog in his mind. Fifteen minutes later, the golden owl from The Quibbler swooped in. Harry untied the paper and placed two knuts in the satchel.
He unfolded the front page.
Fred’s obituary. His chest tightened. The man had been like a brother to him.
Below the obituary, a photograph of the latest Death Eaters rounded up and sent to Azkaban included a familiar face: Ron Weasley.
He drifted off on the sofa