Every step seemed to take a super human effort as Harry dragged himself down to breakfast. Not since the first year, when Voldemort was trying to get the Philosopher’s Stone, had his scar hurt this much or for so long. The only person who seemed to see him anymore was Snape, even Ron and Hermione had withdrawn from him slightly. And no wonder, his temper was now legendary and if he so much as raised an eyebrow the common room would go quiet in an instant.

Potions lessons had turned into some sort of leeching process, like extracting the puss from a festering wound. Snape knew exactly where to press him to get a reaction. Harry suspected it was as much for his own good as Harry’s. Ever since Dumbledore had forbidden him from returning to Voldemort he was as much on edge as Harry.

It was a good thing that lessons had been more about revision for the NEWTs lately, rather than new work. Harry felt that he couldn’t stuff one more fact, one more spell into his head, and if he did it might explode. Everyone kept telling him that this was normal, but not even Hermione could rival him in his consumption of Headache Elixir. The only thing he could compare it to was being struck over the head by a frying pan, repeatedly.

None of this helped the feeling of being in limbo. Every day the list of the Dead grew, the Ministry was in total disarray. There was no way that it could recover from Fudge’s betrayal. Even the Muggle Government was falling apart, every day it became more and more apparent that keeping the Muggle world in ignorance was only increasing the Death Toll. And Harry felt like he was trapped, unable to help even the slightest bit. If it was possible to die of frustration, Harry was sure he would. What use was it being the ‘Hope of the wizarding World’ if there was nothing he could do to help?

Today was the first day of exams, and the last thing on Harry’s mind was sitting in the musty exam hall, answering question after question. It felt like a total waste of time. If only it was all over…

Voldemort had perfect timing. The bell for the last exam had barely rung when the sirens went off. Explosions rocked the entire school as tower after tower collapsed. Harry was fortunate, he had been in the entrance hall, but those who had been deeper in the school had little chance of escape. Even so it was as if there were millions of people milling around outside, everyone turned to face the destruction that had once been home to so many of them. Those teachers who had survived were so disorganised that they hardly knew what day it was.

Harry desperately looked for anyone who could tell him what to do, but there was no one. Dumbledore, McGonagall and even Snape were missing, presumed dead. If it hadn’t been for a small first year who came to him, crying because her sister had been in her Divination exam, then things might have been very different. Somehow Harry managed to find the strength to shut his grief away and to sort out the mess Voldemort had created. It was hard, but some of the Hufflepuff sixth and seventh years were able to find away into the kitchens and their common room. This provided food and a small amount of shelter, but they were unprotected out on the lawns and no one wanted to venture into the Forbidden Forest. Ron, who had about as much experience of it as Harry, volunteered to take a small group of Gryffindors in to see if there was somewhere there that they could all hide safely. Whilst Hermione went to see what was left of Hogsmeade.

One week after the collapse of the School, Voldemort returned. The only warning that they got was from the lookouts that Harry had placed high in the Quidditch stands. When the school had fallen all the protective spells had too, and so Voldemort was able to Apparate directly in front of where the main entrance had once been.

Voldemort obviously thought that he would find the students unprepared, but Harry had used the time to organise them into some sort of militia. Those who were too young to know any major offensive spells were employed to throw chunks of rubble at the advancing wave of Death Eaters, the others used every spell they had been taught to keep the Death Eaters from concentrating enough to use any of the Unforgivables.

Harry, meanwhile, was stalking Voldemort as he inspected his destruction. Harry had quickly learnt his way around the ruins of the school, and it gave him an advantage. Every time Voldemort tried to cast the Cruciatus or Avada Kedavra he knew which way to duck and avoid it. It didn’t take Voldemort very long to realise he was at the disadvantage and he retreated to the edge of the Forest.

Harry didn’t know if it was a spell or just the peculiarities of the British weather that brought the mist down over the school, but it made everything much harder. Tracking Voldemort was like catching smoke, more than once he was surprised and missed death by the narrowest of margins. Soon the air around Harry was tinged green with the after glow of Voldemort’s curses.

Somehow Voldemort managed to circle back to the school, and it was there, right in front of the main entrance, that Harry finally got the upper hand and kept it. Voldemort had stumbled on a lump of stone and Harry jumped out from his hiding place. It was over in one flash of green that burned itself into his memory.

Harry stood staring at Voldemort’s body. He could hear the faint sounds of a battle still raging but he couldn’t move himself to care. It was all over and he suddenly felt so empty. He fell to his knees, tears streaked their way through the grime on his face.

"WHY?" he screamed to the world in general. He didn’t expect a reply, even though he got one.

"There is no reason, just because."

Turning Harry saw, through his tears and the mist that was still clinging to everything, a tall black figure. At first he though he was seeing a ghost, but when Severus stepped forward to help him to his feet he felt more solid than the ground Harry had been kneeling on.

"I did it," he said softly and then again louder, "I did it!"

"I never said you wouldn’t," Severus said with a smile and together they walked around the ruins. It never occurred to Harry to ask how he had survived. Together they found the survivors and together they helped them survive. No one ever asked how Severus survived; it remains one of life’s little mysteries.

The sun shone brightly, a rarity for Scotland, and the last stone was placed in the arch of the Entrance Hall. Harry stepped back and looked at all that had been achieved.

"Well it looks like you’ve made progress." The voice came from behind him, and Harry smiled as he turned around and greeted the speaker with a kiss.

"Everything going alright at the Ministry, Severus?"

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