"Huh? Yeah! How'd you know?" Harry asked.

"It is very likely Gellert Grindelwald that Tom is searching for," Dumbledore explained. "He stole his wand from Gregorovitch and had blond, curly hair."

"What's so great about this wand, though? I mean, why would Vol– erm, You-Know–"

"Call him Tom, my boy," Dumbledore suggested with a fond, though troubled, smile. "That name does not have a Taboo on it."

"Yeah, alright," Harry agreed. "Why's Tom looking for this wand, then? I mean, I get that he's trying to find a wand that can beat mine, but it's just a wand, right?"

"It's more difficult than that," Dumbledore replied, shaking his head. "As I have explained to you previously, your wand and Tom's share a similar core, which keeps you from effectively duelling each other."

"Yeah. But when we faced each other when I left my relatives, he had another wand and it snapped when faced with mine."

"So I've heard," Dumbledore agreed. "I am sure, when you first met him, that Ollivander told you that it is the wand that chooses the wizard?" Harry nodded. "This is true even for wands that belong to a wizard or witch already; they choose for whom they truly work, and they will never work quite as well as the wand that chose you first."

"So, wait," Harry interrupted, shaking his head. "You're saying wands are sentient?"

"Magic has a way of making even the most mundane objects sentient," Slytherin commented drily. "You've met the hat, I'm sure."

"An excellent example," Dumbledore agreed. "I do believe that the wand Tom borrowed did not recognise him as its wielder, and, as such, was not as strong as your wand, which chose you. So, your wand won."

Harry nodded his understanding. "Okay, I suppose that makes sense. But, then, why is Tom looking for a particular wand?"

"There are many legends surrounding this wand," Dumbledore explained. "It has been called the Deathstick, for its tendency to pass from wielder to wielder upon the death of the one who laid claim to it last. It has also been known as the Elder Wand and the Wand of Destiny. It is, legend has it, the most powerful wand in the world."

"Oh," Harry said, understanding dawning. "Yeah, he'd like that, wouldn't he? So, Grindelwald had it last?"

"I had it last," Dumbledore corrected.

Harry blinked a few times, then let out a long breath and rubbed at his eyes. "Bollocks."

"One must, then, wonder who this wand considers its chosen," Slytherin commented. "If Severus killed you on your own orders, it might not consider him an acceptable replacement."

Dumbledore sighed. "I had wondered about that," he admitted, "and there's no way to tell for certain unless Severus tries wielding it, which he has refused."

"Who else would it have picked, if not Snape?" Harry wondered.

"Professor Snape, Harry," Dumbledore corrected.

"Yeah, him." Harry waved his hand negligently.

"Young Mr Malfoy, I believe," Dumbledore offered. "He disarmed me before Severus arrived, did he not?"

"Oh." Harry rubbed at his chin. "Yeah, I guess he did." He shook his head. "That could be problematic."

"Not necessarily," Dumbledore disagreed, "but I suppose only time will tell."

They were silent for a moment before Harry asked, "If Tom gets his hands on this wand, could he defeat my wand?"

"I don't know," Dumbledore admitted. "If it doesn't accept him as its master, I very much doubt it, but if he does manage to earn its loyalty, it is very likely that he could defeat you."

"Another excellent reason for you to learn how to wield a sword," Slytherin insisted. "Wizards today put too much emphasis on magic and not enough on physical attacks."

"We're rather set in our ways that way," Dumbledore agreed cheerfully. "You intend to teach Harry to wield Gryffindor's sword."

"We're attempting it," Slytherin agreed and Harry let out a sigh. "Which reminds me: Every evening after dinner, I want you to meet me in the Room of Requirement for a couple hours to practise."

"Okay," Harry agreed.

"If nothing else, I should at least be able to teach you how to keep from cutting yourself on that blade," Slytherin added, shaking his head and glancing at a clock hanging above the door to the stairs. "It's getting late; let's see if you can't find this snake."

"Oh, yeah." Harry picked the mirror up from his lap and focussed his thoughts on the large serpent. After a few minutes – longer than it had taken for Voldemort – an image finally appeared, but it wasn't Nagini in the vision, but an elderly woman moving around what was likely her home. "I don't see Nagini," he said to Slytherin, frowning. "Just an old woman."

Slytherin nodded. "It may be that you're too tired; head for bed and you can try scrying again tomorrow."

"Okay." Harry rose to his feet and held out the mirror. "Here."

But Slytherin shook his head. "Keep it. I get the sense that you'll be doing more scrying than I will, and this way you won't have to hunt me down to do so. Just–" he smiled, "–try to keep the scrying in class to a minimum?"

Harry laughed. "I'll do my best. Well, good night, Salazar. Sir," he added, nodding to Dumbledore's portrait.

"Good night, my boy," Dumbledore replied.

"Good night, Harry," Slytherin said, then set about vanishing the extra chairs that had been left as Harry vanished down the stairs.

"Ooh, is now when you return to calling me a useless piece of headwear?" the hat wondered, perking up on its shelf.

Slytherin shot it an unamused look. "No, you ragged scrap of fabric, now is when I go to bed. I'll happily inform you how useless you are tomorrow, however, if that's your wish?" Then he turned and slipped into the attached bedroom, the hat's laughter following.

-0-

The next day was a test of everyone's patience. Slytherin found himself receiving as many distrustful looks as he did ones of awe – sometimes both from the same people – and while having the trust of the staff, Harry, Ron, and Hermione did seem to keep the students from being particularly outspoken about his position of authority, it did not stop the whispers. Equally, Snape faced distrust and uncertainty, though the students did seem to relax as much as they ever had around him when he returned to his curriculum for Defence for the year previous, rather than continuing to teach them the Dark Arts.

For the staff, they found their students more unruly than usual as they tried to remember how to live without Death Eaters breathing down their necks. There were also questions about Slytherin – was he trustworthy? Was he really Salazar Slytherin, the Founder? – which the professors answered if they could, if only to move the lessons along.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione found themselves struggling to remember how to be students after a month on the run. They, too, were questioned about Slytherin, and all of them were firm in their answers that the Founder was trustworthy, even Ron. The three friends also found themselves being asked about their time away, what they'd been doing, and those were questions they had to brush away.

It wasn't until lunch that someone realised that Harry's scar was missing, and if the lower year who'd noticed hadn't made such a fuss about it, they might have managed to keep things relatively normal, but, instead, things devolved into a minor riot as people believed the girl's insistence that Harry was not, in fact, Harry Potter, due to his missing scar.

Professors were just moving to quell the panic when the first spell was cast and Slytherin stood from his seat in the centre of the Head table and roared, "All of you, sit DOWN!"

The benches around the Hall grabbed for the students and forced them down, sometimes in awkward positions, but the end result was that every student was on a bench, most unable to move their wand and cast any spells.

In the following silence, Slytherin requested, "What's going on?"

Six people from the Gryffindor table and two from Hufflepuff all started talking all at once until Slytherin held up his hand. Once they'd all shut up, he requested, "Hermione, please."

"Demelza noticed that Harry's scar is missing," Hermione explained calmly, seemingly not bothered by the bits of bench keeping her hands trapped against her legs. "She's decided that means he's an imposter."

"Of course she does," Slytherin muttered.

"He's not," Ron added, irritated.

"How do we know you're not an imposter too?" one of the Gryffindors demanded. "You've been missing for a month."

"I'll vouch for them," Ginny snapped, glaring around the table.

"As will I," McGonagall added coolly as she frowned at her House.

The students wilted under McGonagall's gaze and, sensing it was safe to do so, Slytherin silently directed the benches to free their captives. Those students who had been in awkward positions slowly resettled themselves comfortably.

"As for Mr Potter's scar," Slytherin commented, "I'm the one who got rid of it. There was Dark magic left in it from the attack on him as a baby. In removing that magic, the scar was removed."

"Oh," a couple of the Gryffindors said, looking down at their plates.

Slytherin sighed and sat back in his seat, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

McGonagall and Sprout returned to their places at the Head table and conversation in the Great Hall slowly started back up. By the time they were leaving for afternoon classes, it was as if the spectacle had never happened.

-0-

"I'm still not having any luck scrying Nagini," Harry said as he started some warm-up exercises.

"And my supposed Heir?" Slytherin asked.

"Still flying around. I think he might have landed for a bit this morning, but all I saw was him taking off again."

"We'll see if we can't figure out what's wrong with the snake after we've gone through a couple forms," Slytherin decided and Harry nodded.

After a little over an hour and a half of working with the fake Gryffindor sword – Slytherin wasn't going to let Harry handle the real one until he was certain the teen wouldn't cut himself – the two wizards retired to the Head office, where Slytherin called for tea and biscuits from the kitchens before settling into a chair next to Harry.

"You're still seeing that woman?" Slytherin asked once the food and drinks had popped in next to them.

Harry nodded. "Yeah. She spends all day in that house. For the most part, she sits in one place, but I've seen her moving around a couple times."

"And there's nothing about the house that stands out to you?"

Harry considered that for a moment, then shook his head. "It's rather dark, other than the fireplace, but nothing else seems obvious."

Slytherin sighed. "Keep an eye on her, then, I suppose. Maybe you'll get lucky."

"I will," Harry promised. And, once he'd finished his tea, he wished the Founder a good night and left for his common room.

-0-

Harry caught a break the last Friday of October. He'd been watching the mirror in Defence – Snape was oddly lenient about Harry's use of it in his class – when he caught sight of a picture frame with a photo of a young man he recognised. "Oh," he breathed, sitting up straight.

"Problem, Potter?" Snape snapped, black eyes boring into Harry's bare forehead.

Harry glanced up, momentarily caught off guard, before he nodded and moved to shove his things in his school bag. "Permission to go see the Headmaster, sir?"

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Granted," he allowed.

"Thanks." The Harry was gone, Gryffindor's sword – which he wore everywhere at Slytherin's direction – knocking loudly as the door frame on the way out.

"You may not follow him, Weasley," Snape added when Ron opened his mouth and the redhead subsided, grumbling under his breath, for which Snape took points.

Harry barely paused long enough outside the gargoyle for it to open at the password before he was up the stairs, shouting, "Salazar! Salazar!"

Slytherin was stepping around his desk, face a mask of concern, when Harry reached the top of the stairs. "What's wrong?" he asked, voice falsely steady.

Harry shook his head and took a moment to regain his breath before saying, "Not wrong. In the mirror; I saw a photo of Grindelwald! As a boy!"

Slytherin immediately looked to Dumbledore's portrait. "An old woman with a photo of Grindelwald?"

Dumbledore frowned in thought. "This woman," he said to Harry, "did she wear silver earrings in the shapes of teardrops?"

Harry frowned and thought back to the woman he'd been watching for almost a month, then nodded. "Yeah, actually, I think she did. They had little gems at the top, where they met with the metal hanger."

Dumbledore gave a heavy sigh. "Bathilda Bagshot. Her home is in Godric's Hollow."

"Godric's Hollow?" Slytherin repeated, suspicious.

"It is said to be the birthplace of Godric Gryffindor, and was renamed for him," Dumbledore offered.

Slytherin's mouth tightened. "I know the area," he allowed before looking back at Harry. "I assume you want to go immediately?"

Harry considered that for a moment before setting his school bag in the chair he usually occupied on the rare occasions that he stopped by Slytherin's office for tea after their sword lessons. "Ron'll probably throw a fit, but if you're not busy..."

"I am not," Slytherin agreed. "Let me send a message to Minerva, telling her we're leaving the school for a brief trip, then we can head out."

Fleur was in the Shrieking Shack when Harry and Slytherin stepped out of the passage, and smiled when she saw them. " 'Ello, 'Arry," Fleur said, stepping forward and kissing Harry's cheeks. "Monsieur Slytherin."

"Madam Weasley," Slytherin replied coolly. "You'll forgive us for leaving as soon as we've arrived, but we have business to attend to."

"Certainly," the witch agreed with a smile.

Harry grinned at her as he took Slytherin's offered arm. "See you, Fleur!" he called before Slytherin apparated them away.

They landed in a quiet corner looking over a small square with a few shoppers. "I'm not sure where to start," Slytherin admitted, looking around at the church and graveyard beyond. "I could show you the place where Godric's home stood, but I'm uncertain where this Bathilda Bagshot lives."

Harry shook his head and pulled out his wand. "Point me Bathilda Bagshot," he whispered and his wand spun in place on his palm. The two stared at it for a long moment as it continued to spin, then Harry frowned and cancelled the spell before saying, "Point me Nagini."

The wand turned immediately towards a road to the left of the church.

"Well, that's ominous," Slytherin decided. As Harry made to step out from cover, the Founder grabbed his shoulder. "A disguise, I think," he commented, quickly casting a glamour over the teen to darken his eyes and turn his hair blond. "You're still a hunted man."

Harry grimaced. "Going to classes all normal-like's made me forget," he admitted as they stepped out into the square.

They earned some odd looks for Harry's black robe, Slytherin's cloak, and the flashes of their swords under them; Harry had managed to talk Slytherin into wearing trousers and shortening his tunics a bit, so at least they weren't attracting attention for that fashion faux pas.

They followed the wand to a building that needed some care and stepped up to knock on the door. It took a few minutes for anyone to answer, but when she did, it was the old woman from Harry's scrying. "Bathilda Bagshot?" Harry asked and the woman nodded. "I'm Harry Potter."

The woman nodded and motioned them in. Trading suspicious glances, Slytherin and Harry stepped inside, Slytherin closing the door behind them. They followed her into the sitting room that Harry had often watched her sit in. There, she paused, looking thoughtful.

Slytherin pulled out his wand and whispered, "Point me Nagini," and his wand pointed directly at the old woman. "Harry," he murmured.

"Yeah, I know," Harry replied, pointing his wand at the woman. "Nagini, lovely to see you again."

The woman let out an angry hiss. :How do you know me, boy?:

"We came here looking for you," Harry said.

:You've found me, then,: she spat and the skin at her throat cracked and split, letting the large serpent free.

"Back!" Slytherin ordered and Harry quickly moved out of the way as the Founder drew his sword and cut off the serpent's head in one smooth motion. The body tumbled to the ground, halfway out of Bathilda Bagshot's corpse. Slytherin cleared his throat and said, "That should have finished her, but stick her head with Godric's sword to make sure the horcrux is truly gone."

"Okay," Harry agreed and did so. A wisp of black curled around the blade and sizzled quietly before vanishing. "Good call."

"Indeed." Slytherin shot a quick cleaning charm at his sword, then sheathed it. "Now, let's leave before my supposed Heir shows up. I've no doubt she warned him."

"Yeah, I know," Harry agreed as he slipped his own sword away.

There was a loud crack outside the front door and, not even taking a moment to trade looks, Harry and Slytherin apparated back to the Shrieking Shack.

"Scry him," Slytherin ordered and Harry pulled out the mirror Slytherin had given him to use for scrying.

It took only a moment for the image to clear and Harry winced with remembered pain to see Voldemort blasting things in the house in his fury. "He's very much not happy," he commented, looking away from the destruction. "You think he'll make his way here?"

"Only once he realises you're here," Slytherin replied, then turned to Fleur. "Call together whatever stragglers there are and have everyone inside the castle wards within the hour. Harry, we need to start the evacuation of the younger years into the Chamber."

"Better safe than sorry," Harry agreed grimly and the two wizards hurried out of the Shack while Fleur sat down with the radio equipment the members of Potterwatch had brought and started sending a coded message to those Order operatives outside the school.

The evacuation went remarkably smoothly, thanks to weeks of explanations about what would happen once they got warning that Voldemort was on his way. The sixth years saw to it that those in fifth year and below made it into the Chamber while the professors and seventh years made certain the castle protections were in place. After that, those sixth and seventh years who didn't wish to fight – about half of the sixth years and a quarter of the seventh years – made their way down to the Chamber with Irma Pince and Argus Filch to help keep the younger years calm and safe.

With the protections in place, everyone worked to set up a medical station and Poppy Pomfrey, as well as the four trained medics in the Order, reigned over the area and made certain everything was to their liking.

Harry stayed with Slytherin and McGonagall while the medical station was set up, watching Voldemort race to check the hiding locations for his horcruxes. "He knows," he murmured to the Founder as McGonagall directed a group of students moving one of the tables from the Great Hall to use as a barricade. "He's checking his hiding places."

"Took him long enough," Slytherin muttered, unimpressed. "If he hadn't been so foolish as to split his soul so many times, he'd have noticed when the first one went."

"Tom gives a whole new meaning to the word 'paranoia'," Harry replied. "You know, I kind of wish I knew how he did that flying thing."

"You're better off remaining ignorant," Snape said as he joined the other two dark-haired wizards in their out-of-the-way corner.

Slytherin raised an eyebrow at that, but asked, "Is all of the Order inside the wards?"

"Yes," Snape agreed. "Lupin and his wife just came through, and they're the last safe house."

Slytherin nodded and moved so he was standing in the centre of the open doors of the school. He drew his sword and used it to touch the stone at the very centre of the arch, then started chanting in Gaelic. Those in the entrance hall stopped what they were doing and turned to watch as the stone his sword touched lit with a bright, pale green light, which slowly travelled along the rest of the arch until it reached the flagstones. There, the light spread out, sweeping under their feet and up the walls and doors. The tables and benches and students had set down to watch lit with the light and it travelled quickly up the stairs, making the banisters glow as the moving staircases ground to a halt.

Harry glanced down at the mirror in his hands and was surprised to find it, too, glowing. He remembered Slytherin telling him, some weeks ago, that the best mirrors for scrying were those with no magic in them. He turned the mirror over and saw, stark against the glow, a scrawling inscription in another language.

Just as Harry reached out to touch the dark writing, everything the light had touched flared as bright as the sun for a blink of an eye, then faded back to its original state.

Harry blinked his eyes against the spots in his vision, then jerked his head up as he heard the sound of metal on stone, a sound he was well familiar with after a month of practices with Slytherin. Through the spots in his vision, he saw the Founder kneeling on the ground, bent over. "Salazar!" he shouted, shoving the mirror into his belt as he ran over to the man.

"Too much magic," Slytherin whispered as Harry crouched next to him.

"Let's get you to Madam Pomfrey."

Slytherin shook his head. "I'll be fine in a–"

"Uh-huh," Harry interrupted, not buying it. He looked over his shoulder and blinked past the spots in his eyes until he could see the gathered students well enough to make out a few faces, then called, "Ron! Help me with Salazar!"

Slytherin let out a sigh and rested against Harry. "I'm fine," he insisted, but it sounded weak even to his own ears.

"Madam Pomfrey?" Ron asked as he knelt on Slytherin's other side.

"Yes."

"Get his sword?"

Harry nodded and picked up the fallen sword while Ron helped the Founder to stand. As soon as Harry was up, Slytherin's sword stuck in his belt next to the mirror, they walked him towards where Madam Pomfrey and the others had set up for the probable overflow in rooms near the original infirmary, waving off students who asked what was wrong or tried to gush about the light show.

In the infirmary, Madam Pomfrey directed them to a bed while she turned towards her potions supply. Once they had the Founder on the bed, Harry set his sword near the head of the bed and pulled out the mirror to watch Voldemort's mad dash across the countryside. "He's headed here," he whispered, recognising a few landmarks from their trip on the Knight Bus two years ago.

"Those wards should keep him busy for a time," Slytherin whispered, looking a little like every word hurt him to say.

Madam Pomfrey bustled over, then, a handful of potions held in one white-knuckled hand as she blinked a few times too many. "Move, Mr Weasley," she ordered and Ron darted out of her way.

Madam Pomfrey shot a cursory scan at him, then nodded and shuffled through her potions. "Right. Mr Potter, help me give him these."

Harry shoved the mirror back in his belt and helped the mediwitch feed the Founder the three potions she had for him. "He'll be alright, though, right?" he asked.

"With some rest," Madam Pomfrey agreed. "He won't be fighting in this fight, but he'll be back on his feet tomorrow."

Harry nodded and touched Slytherin's shoulder. The man blinked up at him through heavy eyelids and Harry smiled. "Hey. Get some sleep and leave the school to us, okay? We'll keep it safe."

Slytherin smiled back and reached up to touch the hand on his shoulder. "I know you will, my serpent," he whispered before closing his eyes and falling to sleep.

Harry squeezed the hand on his, then laid it back at Slytherin's side.

"Hey, Harry?" Ron interrupted uncertainly. When Harry glanced up at him, he said, "We should head for our positions."

Harry nodded and pulled out the mirror to check one last time – Voldemort had joined a group of his people outside the gates – then set it on the bed next to the pillow. "Okay, let's go."

"Next," Ron joked as they slipped from the infirmary, "you should learn how to scry with sound, so we know what he's planning."

"I'll get right on that," Harry replied drily and they traded too-sharp smiles. "Knowing Tom, he'll do a full-frontal attack and just keep hitting the wards until they go down."

"We'll be here all week if that's his only plan," McGonagall commented as she fell in step with the two teens. "Have you looked outside?"

Ron and Harry traded curious looks, then ran to the nearest window.

The sky above the castle was lit pale green with Slytherin's active wards, which reached past the Black Lake and into the Forbidden Forest. The grounds, lake, and trees also glowed green, turning everything outside the castle walls into a glowing fairy-land.

"Up for a game of chess?" Ron asked Harry.

-0-

It took three days of Voldemort and his people beating on the wards to bring them down. Slytherin woke mere hours before they fell, having been far more drained than they'd thought.

During their borrowed time, the professors and members of the Order taught the students any number of spells useful in battle, and the group of medics gave everyone a crash-course in keeping themselves and their allies alive long enough to make it back to the infirmary. Harry also practised with his sword, teaching an eager Ron a few tricks and giving him the fake Gryffindor's sword.

The students were all taking a lunch break when Slytherin slid into the open spot on Harry's right and commented, "They're failing."

"The wards?" Ron choked, setting down his sandwich.

Slytherin raised an eyebrow at him. "Did you think they would last forever, lion cub?"

"Oh, we're back to the pet names again," Harry said, rolling his eyes.

Slytherin flashed him a smirk and held out his mirror. "It feels like giants," he said.

Harry barely had to think about it to scry Voldemort any more, but it did take him an extra moment to get the image to back up. He stared at the bright, Slytherin-green curve of the wards that Voldemort's forces were attacking for a long minute, awed by the solid strength of it that they couldn't see from the inside.

"Giants, Harry," Slytherin reminded him.

"Oh!" Harry turned his eyes to the forces attacking the shield and nodded. "Four of them. And I'd say about two hundred wizards and werewolves."

Ron moaned. "We're dead..."

"Is there any way to break the wards out on them?" Hermione asked, looking up from the book she'd borrowed from Slytherin's office while they waited for the wards to fail.

Slytherin considered that for a moment, head cocked to one side, then shrugged. "I can try, but everyone will want to be ready for the attack as soon as I break them."

Ron nodded and climbed onto their table, turning to look at the rest of the Hall. "OIY!" he shouted and everyone fell silent as they turned to look at him. "We're gonna try breaking the wards out on them, taking out as many as we can, but we need everyone in position before we do it. So let's MOVE!"

"Ron," Harry called with some amusement, "some encouragement?"

Ron let out a nervous laugh. "Oh, yeah." He looked back at the small sea of faces, many of whom now wore smiles. "Maybe we're not as old as You-Know-Who, or know as many spells, but we've got friendship on our side, which is the only thing he can't say he's ever had. And because we have friendship, because we can depend on each other, we can face any army, bring down any giant, destroy any and all snake-faced bastards without a nose!"

The students roared their agreement and everyone turned to file out the doors and take their designated positions.

"An excellent speech, Mr Weasley," McGonagall said as she stepped up to their table. "Salazar, are you sure breaking the wards out will work?"

"It's all we've got," Slytherin admitted. "They've only got a couple more hours on their own, and I'd rather see if we can't make the first move. If Harry can help direct me to the greatest concentration of their troops, I should be able to maximise the damage."

"I'll do what I can," Harry promised and conjured a 3D image of the outside of the wards as he looked back into the mirror, adding troop positions as he saw them.

Hermione and Ron hurried to follow McGonagall to their positions, but Ginny stopped to touch Harry's shoulder. "Good luck," she whispered and kissed his cheek.

"Hey." Harry set down the mirror a snagged her arm. They shared a proper kiss and he said, "Good luck to you, too."

As Ginny hurried off, Harry returned to his map-building. Slytherin sat silently next to him, watching the map of Voldemort's troops with a closed expression.

Finally, Harry sat back. "That should be it. Some minor fluctuation here–" he pointed at a section of the image he'd changed a few times, "–but, otherwise, it's pretty much static."

"Thanks," Slytherin said, looking over the image and placing the landmarks he saw with those he knew of outside the wards. "I should be able to take out two of the giants, and probably a large portion of this group," he commented, pointing to a cluster of maybe fifty human-sized figures.

Harry nodded and pushed away from the table. "I'll leave you to it, then. I need to be at the doors."

"What, no kiss for luck?" Slytherin asked.

Harry paused in his steps and looked back at the man, whose shoulders had tensed, as if expecting a blow or a curse. It barely took Harry a second to weigh his options before he leaned over a pressed a kiss to Slytherin's cheek, as Ginny had done for him. "Good luck, Salazar," he whispered, then turned and hurried from the Great Hall.

Slytherin sat still for a long moment, disbelieving, before he shook his surprise away and looked back at Harry's image. "Let's try for three of the giants..." he murmured before closing his eyes and focussing on the wards.

Harry had just reached his position in the doorway with the professors and his best friends when the wards gave a great groan, then shattered. They held still for a breath, then turned and slammed into the opposing forces. A scream of pain and fury came from across the lawn and three of the giants toppled over.

From the ramparts, windows, and the entrance hall, students, staff, and members of the Order let out a cheer, emboldened by the sight of the three large creatures falling back on their allies, still sparkling with the dual-coloured pieces of the wards.

"The nose knows," Ron said with mock seriousness and Hermione elbowed him. "Ow! You're supposed to be hitting them, not me!"

"Save the missing body parts jokes for your brothers," Harry suggested, tightening his grip on his wand.

"Here come the fliers," Kingsley's deep voice intoned from just behind Harry and they all looked up to watch the witches and wizards on brooms zipping ahead of the mess on the ground. As soon as they were in range, spellfire from the ramparts and upper windows shot out, downing more than a couple brooms before the fliers started shooting back.

Finally, the ground forces gathered themselves and started forward, across the lawn. Near the head of the group in the doorway, McGonagall shouted, "For our future!" before starting forward.

"FOR OUR FUTURE!" the rest of them shouted and then they were moving, spreading out as they reached the open lawn and shooting spells as soon as they were in range. Just before he got in sword-swinging range of the nearest opponent, Harry switched his wand to his left hand and drew his sword. He wasn't anywhere near what he would call proficient with left-handed casting, but Slytherin had taught him a few tricks and he could shoot off disarming and shield charms with his left hand while he wielded his sword with his right, so it worked out.

The battle turned into chaos as soon as the two armies reached each other. Harry quickly couldn't tell friend from foe, and he had to trust that his allies would heed his warning about his poisoned blade and stay away from any flashing swords. At one point, Harry swore he saw a flashing blade under black hair and he spared only a second's thought to hope Slytherin was okay before he was throwing up a shield against an incoming purple spell and cutting into the arm of an opponent on his right.

Twice, later, he saw flashes of red hair between traded spells, but when he looked again, they were gone. Similarly, he thought he saw bushy brown hair ducking under a curse of violent green and it took everything he had in him to continue fighting in his spot, because going to help Hermione could only end up with her getting hurt.

It was tens of opponents later, in the middle of a still patch, when he came face-to-face with Draco Malfoy. The other boy froze, but Harry didn't, shooting off a disarming charm with barely a second's thought. He stabbed someone behind him smiling grimly at their strangled cry of pain, a sound he'd become worryingly desensitised to over the course of the fight. Then he and Draco were nose-to-nose, and Harry said, "I don't want to kill you, Malfoy. If you go inside Hogwarts, unarmed, they'll see to it you're safe."

Draco stared at him for a long moment before inclining his head and darting past Harry, not bothering to pick up his fallen wand.

Harry continued on, disarming opponents on his left and cutting those on his right, leaving them to die.

Finally, finally, Harry caught sight of the pale head he'd been looking for. He cut through a couple of duelling wizards, only barely having the presence of mind to stop his sword before he cut one the the newer members of the Order. "Go," he ordered them and the witch fled with a gasped thanks.

"Harry Potter," Voldemort said and Harry looked up into red eyes as the sounds of the battle around them dimmed.

"Hello, Tom," Harry replied, smiling when the Dark Lord let out an angry hiss. "If you hadn't put a Taboo on your name, I wouldn't have had to find an alternative, you know."

"I will kill you, Potter," Voldemort spat, raising an unfamiliar wand.

"I very much doubt that," Harry replied, and then he was ducking three Killing Curses in a row and throwing up a shield against a cutting curse misaimed from behind him. He caught a fourth Killing Curse on the blade of his sword and it gleamed with sickly green light for a long moment before he turned and shoved it into Voldemort's stomach.

For a breath, all was still, then Harry pulled back his sword, whispering, "Goodbye, Tom."

And Lord Voldemort's lifeless body crumpled to the ground.

Harry stood there over the body of the man that had made his life hell, and around him, the battle still raged, no one yet having noticed that their leader had fallen.

Someone too far away to have seen Voldemort fall suddenly let out a cry and, as those around him started to look up, Harry did the same.

Above the battlefield, someone had cast the Dark Mark. And it was melting away.

Only a few steps away, someone gasped and Harry turned to look at one of the sixth year Hufflepuffs, who had a nasty gash dripping blood above her left eye. She was pointing at the body at Harry's feet and then she whispered, "He's dead..."

It was as if a switch had been flipped. The Dark Mark above their heads broke into pieces of Killing Curse-green light and was swept away on the wind. Around Harry, voices called, "He's dead!" and "Potter's done it!"

And Harry looked back down at the lifeless corpse, and he laughed.

-0-

Parvati Patil was the one who found him, pale and shaky and hobbling along on a crutch to support her broken leg. "Madam Pomfrey ran out," she explained as Harry moved to support her.

"You should be in bed," Harry replied, turning them back towards the castle and manoeuvring them around the dead and stunned; he wasn't looking forward to the clean-up.

"I know," Parvati agreed, "but we needed to find you."

"Find me?" Harry repeated, stopping them and twisting to give Parvati a look. "Why?"

"It's Ginny," Parvati said and Harry's world stopped.

"Ginny?" Harry croaked.

Parvati pulled away from his support and waved him on. "Go," she ordered, and Harry didn't need telling twice.

When Harry reached the infirmary, he found a huddle of redheads surrounding a bed in the back. Mrs Weasley's sobs carried to him where he'd frozen in the doorway, feeling like his world was falling in around him.

Fleur came up behind him, her pale hair shorn off and heavy bandaging wrapped around her head. "Come," she said, and guided him forward.

As they reached the wall of Weasleys, it parted and Harry was pushed forward until he was standing at the end of Ginny's bed, staring at her pale, still form. Mrs Weasley held one hand in hers, weeping over it like her world had just ended, and Harry thought he might know how she felt, because sounds and his periphery vision were fading away until all he could see was Ginny's bloodless face before that, too, vanished.

-0-

Harry woke to the quiet whispers of the infirmary. He blinked up at the ceiling a couple of times, unseeing, until a gentle hand reached over and slipped his glasses on. Harry looked over and found Slytherin smiling tiredly at him, left arm in a sling and a bright red cut standing out stark on his cheek. "Salazar?" Harry croaked and grimaced at how dry his throat was.

"You've been asleep for three days," Slytherin offered quietly as he picked up a glass with a straw and held it to Harry's lips. "Someone caught you in the back and none of us realised you'd lost so much blood until you passed out."

Harry's memories returned, then; the battle, killing Voldemort, walking back through the bodies, Ginny– "Ginny," he whispered.

Slytherin closed his eyes and shook his head. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "We tried. We tried so bloody hard." And when he met Harry's eyes, the teen could see the very real pain and misery in the pale green eyes and he looked away.

"What happened?"

"I can't say for sure," Slytherin admitted quietly. "I had her in the corner of my eye for a while, but I lost track of her for a bit. I saw a pale purple spell go by me, in her general direction, and when I turned to look, she was already down. By the time I'd reached her, Lupin was feeding her a potion and casting a spell, so I turned and took care of anyone who thought it might be a good idea to try attacking them while they were down or while they were retreating, when he started back towards the school. I didn't find out until later, after the Dark Mark fell apart, that she'd died almost immediately upon spell impact; it crushed her lungs."

Harry nodded, remembering one of the Order healers telling them that crushed lungs were something that couldn't be healed without some pretty specialised spells, none of which it was suggested they use without training, lest they do more harm than good. Crushed lungs on the battlefield was a painful death, one that was as certain as a cutting curse to the throat.

Harry hadn't even realised he was clenching his fist until Slytherin carefully uncurled his fingers with his good hand.

"What happened to you?" Harry asked, opening his eyes to watch the older wizard as Slytherin looked down at his immobilised arm with a grimace.

"Cutting curse through to the bone, and a blasting curse to my hand when that didn't stop me. Finally finished the lot of them with my sword just before the Mark broke apart." Slytherin shrugged, then winced as it shifted his arm. "Good job, by the way. Even if it's not the end we'd hoped for."

Harry took a deep breath and shook his head. "Voldemort's dead," he said quietly, "that's the only part that matters."

"Voldemort's dead," Slytherin agreed, "but we still paid a heavy price. Of the sixty-four students that stood and battled, twenty-three are dead. Seventeen Order members are dead, as are Filius and Irma."

Harry choked and closed his eyes, folding his hand around the one Slytherin had yet to move away. "Who?" he whispered.

Slytherin watched him for a long moment, then started reciting names.

And Harry listened to each one of them, silently promising to remember them forever.

-0-

The memorial was massive. Held out by Dumbledore's white tomb, they read off the names of the deceased – defender of Hogwarts or member of Voldemort's troops – and floated little paper boats across the lake in remembrance. The last name on the list, at Harry's insistence, was Tom Riddle, and Harry placed the boat for the Dark Lord upon the water himself, Slytherin standing silently at his side.

The week after the memorial was declared a holiday, everyone having been too stunned by their losses to celebrate before. For the first day of the holiday, Harry joined the Weasleys and Hermione as they tried to make merry, but their hearts just weren't in it and he returned to Hogwarts for the rest of the week, trying to cheer up those students with no parents left to take care of them and spending his evening with Slytherin over a cup of tea, where he spoke of the old days and made Harry laugh over the escapades of the Founders.

The last day of the holiday, Harry entered the Great Hall to find the new Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, speaking with Slytherin, whose mouth was tight with displeasure. When he spotted him, Kingsley offered his goodbyes to the Founder and walked over to meet Harry, "Harry," he greeted.

"Hello, Kingsley," Harry replied cautiously. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm not Scrimgeour," Kingsley pointed out, and Harry realised he'd tensed.

"Sorry," he said with a laugh. "You know I have a bad history with the Ministry; I'll work on it. What's up?" He offered a smile he didn't feel.

"We're trying to build the aurors back up," Kingsley explained, "and I know you had an interest in joining."

Harry stared at him for a moment, his dream at his fingertips. But then he remembered the kids he'd been spending the last week with, who would be remaining at Hogwarts over the summer unless a distant relative came to claim them. He remembered, too, Snape's unseeing eyes and the fact that they were, once again, without a Defence professor. He remembered evenings spent with Slytherin in his office over tea, remembering days that weren't marked in a history book, and the thrill that ran up Harry's spine when they brushed hands. He remembered how Ginny's death seemed so much easier to bear after even just the faintest of smiles in Slytherin's pale eyes.

And Harry shook his head. "No, but thank you," he said quietly.

Kingsley's eyebrows raised. "I can't promise this offer again, Harry. Ron's already said yes; you can be partners."

"I know," Harry replied, and he did know, because Ron would never turn down the aurors, not for anything. "But I'm needed more here."

Kingsley's expression smoothed out and he smiled, understanding bright in his dark eyes. "Of course. You know where we are if you ever need any help." He held out a hand to shake.

"Yeah, I know," Harry said, taking Kingsley's hand and feeling, for the first time in his life, that he might be able to stand a Minister. "Thanks."

"Just make sure you send us a couple aurors to make up for your lack," Kingsley joked and Harry laughed.

"I'll see what I can do," Harry promised and they passed each other, Kingsley going to leave, Harry headed towards where Slytherin sat with relief and confusion warring in his eyes at the Head table.

"You're not taking the job?" Slytherin asked as Harry slid into the open seat next to him, neither of them caring that he was still, technically, a student.

"I thought you might need a Defence teacher more than they need another decorated auror," Harry replied, shaking his head.

"But you told me becoming an auror was your dream," Slytherin insisted. "I can find another Defence teacher if you'd rather–"

"Salazar," Harry interrupted with a smile, "being an auror was my dream, but being a teacher is hardly second best. And Hogwarts is my home." He rested his hand over the one Slytherin had rested on the arm of his chair. "Will you have me?"

"Yes," Slytherin breathed before leaning forward and pressing his lips to Harry's, feather light.

When Slytherin drew back, Harry leaned forward, one hand coming up to catch in the older man's hair, his thumb tracing the fading mark on his cheek, and their lips met again, pressed together for a long breath.

"Does this mean we don't have to hunt down a new Defence professor after all?" McGonagall asked from Slytherin's other side as she sat down.

The two wizards quickly pulled apart, Harry bright red while Slytherin cleared his throat, looking slightly flushed. "It seems so," he agreed in a calm tone.

"Good," McGonagall decided before holding out the bowl of scrambled eggs she'd been serving herself from. "Eggs, gentlemen?"

"Yeah, thanks," Harry agreed and accepted the bowl.

The rest of breakfast passed with Harry and Slytherin catching each other's eyes and hiding smiles, much to McGonagall's amusement. When they left the Great Hall, Slytherin led the way up to his office and Harry signed the paperwork to become a professor.

Yes, Harry thought as Slytherin filed the papers before coming over to pick up where they'd left off at breakfast, staying at Hogwarts was far more to his liking.

-0-0-0-

-0-0-0-0-0-