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Harry Evans Chapter 126: Dialogues at the end
🕑 Added 2025-06-25 10:48:00 +0000 UTCThank you: Amr/Raven and p- for the edits!
-/-
They never told you about the aftermath of the big, bad fight at the end of the year after the books.
It always just sort of ended.
A conversation with Dumbledore, a train ride back home, and summer started.
In reality, however, the whole thing was quite unpleasant. Harry was sweating more than ever, and even though he was happy to be back in his own body and that Dumbledore had conjured him a robe, having to fight Voldemort and then still sit around until Neville collected himself from his first murder was anything but pleasant.
There was crying.
A lot of crying.
It turned out that Harry being knocked out in the books had been a blessing.
Dumbledore, for all his faults, truly showed his mettle here and eventually calmed the boy down enough to apply a sleeping spell, after which it was time for all of them to go to the infirmary.
They met the other professors on the way, all of them having rushed over in their sleeping wear, but just a tad too late to truly help.
There was chaos, there was shouting, there was fear.
Hours of conversations, being asked if he was ok, being prodded by Madam Pomfrey and being forced to lie in one of the shitty beds they had at the hospital wing. They really could afford better, he was sure. They likely just kept the mattresses because to disincentivize students from doing enough stupid stuff to stay here regularly.
Harry wasn’t too wrecked, actually. After all, he’d had similar situations with Twix and with Greyback in his previous two years.
Voldemort hadn’t even gotten in a lick. But hells, fighting a battle where death was a real possibility sure activated the sweat glands.
“So that was Voldemort, huh,” Harry said when it was only him, Dumbledore and the passed out trio of Hermione, Harley and Neville left in the wing.
“Indeed, it seems that he has been hiding under our noses all along,” the headmaster replied.
“What a fucking asshole,” Harry commented idly.
Dumbledore gave a startled laugh. “Indeed, one could say that he has a bit of an anger issue paired with a tendency for the sociopathic,” he said in an amused tone of voice.
Harry had a lot of questions. He wanted to find out once and for all why Dumbledore had lured Voldemort in this year. The man had confirmed that the stone was fake.
But, he couldn’t ask those questions; he knew his mind arts were strong enough to fend off the old man. The issue was now that if Dumbledore tried to read his mind, he might discover the similarity to Charon’s defences.
Rather than satiating his curiosity then, Harry had to deflect any suspicion on his own person.
“I used the killing curse,” he blurted out, at which Dumbledore’s look became grave.
“It was just…” Harry continued before trailing off. “It was Voldemort. He was going to kill Neville and then me. Also, I thought that if I cast that spell, it would surprise him, change something.”
Dumbledore forgave too much, so the best course of action with him was simply admitting one’s faults.
The headmaster looked at Harry over his half-moon spectacles.
The redhead looked down in chagrin, not meeting his eyes.
“No one can fault you for making a desperate decision,” Dumbledore eventually said. “But I would recommend you stay far away from this sort of magic in the future, even in urgent situations. Some actions bear a price that is too high.” His old hand slowly pulled out his wand from his sleeve, which he decisively pointed at Harry’s own wand, which was lying on his bedside table.
A flick.
“The usage of the spells has been erased,” Dumbledore eventually said. “I would suggest you don’t give your memories of what happened down in that chamber to anyone, not even those you trust.”
“Thank you, headmaster,” Harry said, before sighing. “It was Quirrell, wasn’t it?” he eventually asked.
“Indeed.”
“He seemed so normal.”
“Those of us who have nothing beneath the surface can sometimes act the best. Poor Quirrinus must have… He was lost the moment Voldemort entered his body. As I told Neville, there was nothing that could have been done for the man. He already died last summer.”
“The professors Neville went to when he realised that someone was going for the stone didn’t believe him,” Harry eventually said. “That’s bad.”
“Everyone trusted Professor Quirrell; he was the Muggle studies professor before, we thought we knew him, and we trusted him.”
“I trusted Quirrell as well.” He hadn’t. “And I didn’t believe Neville either. I just had to follow him, just in case.”
“Neville was likely saved by your efforts, I thank you,” Dumbledore said.
“Does that mean I finally get the pensieve?” Harry asked curiously, causing the old man to chuckle.
“Perhaps next year we could see about that, although I believe I will be a bit busy in the future.”
“Will he come back?” Harry asked.
Dumbledore didn’t reply for several seconds.
“I am afraid that there might be dark times ahead, my boy.”
-/-
“Fudge creams Potter,” Harry read with a look of disgust the next morning as he plopped down next to his friends to enjoy the last normal breakfast of the year before everyone found out about the thing that had occurred in the third-floor corridor.
“That’s one way to write a headline,” Cedric muttered next to him. “But that’s not what’s important!” he then shouted, grabbed Harry by the shoulders and shook him. “What the hell happened mate!?”
Harry looked around and saw everyone turning their heads towards them.
“We were worried!” Penny exclaimed next to Cedric.
“Sprout told us you were in the hospital wing and that we couldn’t go to see you until after breakfast,” Cedric continued, before looking Harry up and down. “You look fine,” he then noted.
“Yeah, Pomfrey had to let me go, I basically only had a few scrapes,” Harry said. “You should see the other guy.”
At his friends’ serious looks, he eventually leaned in towards his friends and muttered quietly. “Look, I’ll tell you, but not here.” He wiggled his eyebrows at everyone, trying to listen in on their conversation.
Cedric and Penny unceremoniously stood up, grabbed him by one arm each and started dragging him off.
“Hey, my breakfast!” Harry shouted, looking at the sausages moving further and further away as he struggled against his bondage.
“Fuck your breakfast, you idiot!” Penny shouted into his ear.
“Screw you guys, you don’t know what I’ve been through!” Harry replied angrily.
“That’s the point, mate!” Cedric screamed.
-/-
“And then I valiantly did a backflip over him and beheaded the monster,” Harry said proudly, finishing a slightly embellished retelling of the same tale that he’d told Dumbledore earlier this morning.
Penny and Cedric exchanged a glance in the abandoned classroom they’d detoured into to have their conversation.
“He was possessing our professor?” Penny asked weakly with a shiver.
“You Know Who is alive?” Cedric asked with a whimper.
“Oh no,” Harry quickly corrected Penny. “There wasn’t much professor left in there to be honest. Voldemort WAS our professor.”
Penny flinched.
“Don’t say his name,” Cedric muttered fearfully, casting a suspicious look over his back.
Harry paused. It was a bad habit in case the taboo ever went up again. But… Calling someone You Know Who. It just felt a bit childish.
His friends were reacting to the news that Voldemort wasn’t dead more strongly than he’d initially thought they would. Hadn’t the whole student population of Hogwarts had to swallow this unfortunate truth in canon? Why were his friends reacting so badly?
“It’s ok, he’s just a harmless shade floating around somewhere right now,” he tried to placate them. “Think of him like a,” he paused, trying to find the right metaphor, “like a particularly evil and ugly weather balloon. Sure, he exists, but he’s unlikely to ever crashland on you.” Another pause. “Unless he somehow regains a body, then I guess we’re all fucked,” he admitted.
“The philosopher's stone was really here?” Penny asked dubiously.
Harry gave a laugh. It hadn’t. But he wasn’t supposed to know that. “Neville was coming to me with this crazy theory the whole year, but I never believed him. Crazy, huh?”
“If I’d woken up earlier, I could have run after you; you wouldn’t have been alone,” Cedric said angrily, banging a fist against the wall.
“Everything turned out well,” Harry reassured, shaking his head, wondering at the boy’s sudden bravery. Would Cedric have faced Voldemort with him? It was better that he hadn’t come, or else he’d have been a casualty.
With that attitude, it seemed like his friend was destined for that fate.
“I have to tell my parents,” Penny suddenly said with pitch-perfect clarity. “You know who my DADA professor was? I’m going to get grounded for life.”
“Why would they ground you?” Cedric asked, surprised.
“I don’t know! Nothing makes sense!” Penny shouted back at him, wildly gesticulating.
“Man, do you two need a calming draught?” Harry asked, somewhat concerned.
Blonde and Brunet turned towards him, anger in their eyes. “Don’t you!?!” they shouted in perfect synchronicity.
Harry tilted his head and stared at them.
He’d been dealing with being the only one who knew about Voldemort’s eventual return for years now. He’d prepared his mind, he’d prepared his body. He’d trained. Now, looking at his frightened friends, he realised that he’d been dealing with the stress very well.
“Nah, I’m fine,” he eventually said.
“I’m gonna beat your arse!” his friends once again shouted in unison, at which point Cedric threw himself at Harry’s legs, locking him in place. This opened up Penny to grab his head and give him a very passionate nookie.
“Hey, stop it,” Harry shouted, flailing uselessly about it. One against two was really unfair!
“You took lessons from him, you bastard!” Cedric shouted.
“You could have died chasing after Neville!” Penny screamed.
-/-
A few hours later, after Harry’s two friends had calmed down, Harry found himself on the Hogwarts grounds.
It was technically class.
He was skipping.
He hadn’t felt like going, and with his academic record he was sure that he would be forgiven.
Also, all the teachers knew what had happened. He deserved a break.
“Harry!” Neville’s voice suddenly resounded behind him.
But a break he wouldn’t get.
The redhead turned around to look at the first-year who had apparently run here all the way from the hospital wing. He was huffing, puffing and leaning on his knees like a third-rate sprinter who’d tried to run a marathon and quit halfway.
“The boy who lived, as I live and breathe,” Harry replied somewhat sarcastically, before holding out a fist. “I see you’ve escaped the clutches of the dragon.”
“Pomfrey’s hardly a dragon,” Neville muttered awkwardly, looking at the empty spot on the grass next to Harry.
They were quite far away from the castle, under a tree overlooking the lake.
Harry patted the grass, and the boy sat down.
“Can’t believe the stone was actually here,” Harry eventually said with a scoff, seeing that Neville wouldn’t start.
“I told you!” Neville replied.
The older of the two simply rolled his eyes at that. “You should have told your parents and shown Dumbledore the map. What was I supposed to do with that information?”
“Stone’s destroyed, Dumbledore said the Flamels don’t want to give Voldemort the chance,” Neville eventually muttered. Harry accepted the lie in silence, not that the boy knew he was lying.
Some silence passed, the sound of the lake lapping against the shore filling the void.
“I tried telling Dad, but he brushed me off. He told me to trust Dumbledore,” Neville eventually said.
“Politics won’t be a problem much longer anymore, huh?” Harry asked with a sigh.
Neville flushed. “It’s over,” he eventually admitted. “Dad visited me in the hospital wing. Gave me the verbal lashing of my life. My step-mom cried, and that hurt more. Fudge won. Dad is quitting his job as an auror, staying in the Wizengamot.”
“What do you really want to say?” Harry suddenly asked. “You didn’t use that map of yours to update me on the political situation of our great country, did you?”
Neville awkwardly rubbed the back of his head.
“I wanted to say thank you, I guess. For all the lessons. I got in one good knockback jinx against Vo-Voldemort.” He grimaced. “Then I was captured.”
“At least you fought, not many can say that.”
“Dad says that he’ll help me polish my skills this summer, now that he has the time. Well, he called me a Gryffindor, and that if I’m going to behave like one, I might as well know how to get out of the situations that will put me in,” Neville explained.
“So you’re finally going to get some real training, huh?” Harry mused, tearing up some grass beneath him and crushing it in his fist. Sticky. “Maybe you’ll be the one teaching me when you come back from summer vacation.”
Neville grimaced. “Probably not. We still have two months of school as well, couldn’t Voldemort have attacked closer to the end? Maybe I’d have been excused for exams.”
“Maybe you can write him a letter and tell him to schedule his schemes better in the future,” Harry suggested.
The boy opposite him laughed. “You know who’s leading the house cup by the way?” he suddenly asked.
“Gryffindor, last I checked,” Harry muttered. “Why?”
“Dumbledore gave each one of us 50 points at breakfast. The school is gossiping about what we did. Me and Harley got the points we lost back, so did Hermione. Your points were extra.”
Harry didn’t really pay much attention to house points, for fairly obvious reasons. Namely, it was a useless competition. “Fickle,” he eventually said. “I wouldn’t rely on anyone who switched their mind that fast, now you know they can’t be trusted.”
“Oh, and one more thing,” Neville said.
“Yeah?”
“Dumbledore announced who’s going to jump in for Quirrell since he, eh,” the boy trailed off.
“Who’s it going to be?” Harry asked quickly, not wanting to get stuck on the topic.
“He’s going to do it himself. The headmaster. He’ll teach DADA.”
Comments
bor902
The team up of MC and MC, truly a team of the time.
Pope Yoda I
"Hey James, does Fudge-mort have a gaudy, silver pendant with a snake emblem that he covets more than an inbred gooner covets his own daughter's virginity?" "...that's awfully specific....and exactly right, yes." "Does he stroke it lovingly, hiss at anyone who asks about it and call it 'My Precious'?" ".....alright, who the fuck has been spying for you?" "My man, have I got a book series for YOU!" ~ 3 books later ~ "Alright, first off - fuck Bombadil. Secondly - why didn't they fly the ring over to the volcano?" ------------ On a slightly related note, I hope to see MC team up with his time turnered alter-ego Charon in a death match scenario at, say, a graveyard. Perhaps one he's even pre-seeded with Africanized murder wasps. Gotta' make sure any unlucky survivors (and the viewing audience) leave as traumatized as possible while bumping the stream rating up to E (for Eaten Alive).
bor902
And then the room clapped!
MaliMi
And then I valiantly did a backflip, snapped the bad guys's neck and saved the day.
