Chapter 13
Harry
& a projet.
&o them over a drink at the Hog’s Head, standing in froh his eyes shining, glisteears. Glistening with the ghosts of his pasts, Rita had wrote one, and now looking at Pery he had a that osed to look like.
“This was a horrible, horrible thing. The ery swallowed hard, and Harry dra of his beer just to give himself something to do. Beside him, Drao’s hand found his way uable, f it to stay still a go. “But it was history in the making. Aell it, to make sure the people who ome after us know how it started, so they ahe & for what he is—just a man.”
&ene was alme of the thing that Harry had been trying to onvine himself of sihe final battle. How iom Riddle was only Tom, and when he died he did not go out in a bze of glory or for a ause, he only fell hard and final on the old grou whs had been ut. Like he really was only a man.
“There eople who did good things during that time. And there were people who did bad things. Whe rose to power ao have beeried to shove all the memories uhe rug, and none of us khing about it. But this time we’re not makihere were heroes in this war, some of them in this very room.” He raises his gss ioast, and the people around Harry were nodding. Gee pounded his gss dowable, and there was a answerihey looked arouher. Everyohis room had fought, everyone was frieve. “We should know their names.”
Harry k all of them had gotten a little obsessed with somethihe ery, it was reolletion, all the stetting them down as fast as he ould, the right way, with the biases. He didn’t want anyohe ause to be giveo oblivion, their names erased and with o remember them. A wahe sins of those who fought side.
“I don’t want anroup of kids to grow up like we did.” The moment, with Pery standing in front of them, reminds Harry fierely of the time wheood in front of them all aart Dumbledore’s Army. It makes a lump rise in his throat and he s her fight like this. So please, help me?”
There is silene, where Pery looks uhe first time during this whole speeh. A as Harry knew he would be, he makes himself be the first oand.
His hair srapes oone, making everyo he worms his way through the jumble of legs and hairs ahe front of the room. Pery smiles and ps him on the bak, like he had dohing speial. Harry smiles bak. “Where do I sign?”
In the end, his o.
Drao’s is seond.
It starts immediately.
Pery has shedule drawn up for them, aake slots. Harry, Ron, and Hermione would have to dether. “We an just have you meet at the burrow.” He looks exited, but also pale and drawn. “It’ll be a long night.”
Harry doesn’t want to talk about it. If he talks about it, he might have to talk about how it started, with his pareake about basilisk fang in his arm and the burears, about a man who lived as a rat for thirteen years and was killed by a molten hand beause he made the mistake of mery, about Dobby, about Sirius disappearing i e forest. He doesn’t want to think about it, so he pushes the prospet of the interview away a form a knot in his stomah, and when Drao asks him if he’s alright he always says yes, ense a may sound.
&o meet Ron at a muggle pub. They always meet at muggle pes now, both so they are nnized and beause Roaste f fried. It works, to be able to sit ao be normal.
“I still an’t believe we’re doing this,” Harry says, talking about the day, how they will let everyoo to what they alked about.
“It’s importaonks, Mad-Eye, Fred—they deserve to be remembered, don’t you think?” Then, as a, “so do we, for that matter.”
“Still, it seems…” Private? Speial? Wrong, to talk about what they have kept lose to their hest f? “Odd.”
“Maybe.” Rs, drai of his beer. “But if it keeps my kids from being taught about goblin wars in history ss, the.”
Harry ughs. Somehow, maybe beause it was so b, history ss and Professor Bihe war uh nothing to taiernoon sses. “He’ll still make them fall asleep.”
Rougs o, and ys a heavy hand on Harry’s shoulders. “And so it goes.”
Drao
&he Burrow.
Drao had sworn that no matter how lose he got with Harry, no matter how muh Hermioo like him, even if he was friends with Gee, he would here. He did not iture the pe where Ron had grown up, did not wao feel the holes that Fred Weasley’s death had left in this house. But whehat that’s where he’s doierview, and asks if Drao would like to ome along, just for support, he ouldn’t find it io say no.
So now he’s here, driea from a hipped mug ahe story spins out. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were squeezed onto the aross from them. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley (all us Molly and Arthur, dear, no need for formalities) were wathing it all