Ch. 157

The days following the final battle with Voldemort's forces were characterized by a flurry of activity. The wizarding world was eager to rebuild, while Harry helped the ice people and the Trazkabanian sorceres to honor and bury their dead. Bella had woken up on the same day that Harry had; her injury was quickly mended, and the doctors had merely let her sleep to let the blood-replenishing potion they had given her do its work.

Those Death Eaters and dark creatures who were left alive after the battle at the Ministry were taken into custody and transported over to Azkaban, where Captain Nailoff and his regiment of soldiers once more turned the fortress into a prison. They would remain there until such a time that arrangements with the Ministry of Magic could be made. And when all was said and done, it all came down to numbers. Numbers on a report that Harry was given, and that he had forwarded to Cuthbert Mockridge. Numbers he was still staring at as he sat in his office unmoving.

Ten-thousand, six hundred and twenty-seven: The number of dark creatures killed, including Dementors, giants, werewolves, vampires, and others.

Four-hundred and eleven: The number of enemies captured.

Two-thousand, three hundred, and nine: The number of injured.

And five thousand, one-hundred, and sixteen: The number of dead ice soldiers, aurors, sorcerers, and goblins who had fought at his side.

That last one had him nauseous for days.

Now that most of the cleanup was done and everyone was busy going back to their lives before the war, there were only a few last things to take care of. Harry stood up and left the room when the clock chimed. Today was the day that they would be waking up Frank and Alice Longbottom. Neville was waiting for him outside his door, and quickly fell into step with Harry as they made their way down to the medical ward. Bella was waiting for them when they arrived, a flask of silvery liquid in her hand.

"You ready?" Harry asked. The question was directed at Bella as much as it was at Neville.

Neville paused, looking at his parents' still forms. "Yeah. Let's do it."

Bella carefully dripped the potion down into the Longbottoms' mouths before setting the flask on a nearby table. "Now all we can do is wait," she announced.

Almost three hours later, the Longbottoms began to stir. The nurse who was monitoring them immediately called Bella and Harry. Neville was still in the room, sitting with his parents, when Harry entered. Bella had decided to wait outside, and Harry had agreed that it would be for the best. She had come a long way from the dark witch who had been Voldemort's right-hand woman, but the Longbottoms didn't know that. Yet, Harry amended silently. He looked on from the sidelines as Neville and the nurse gently coaxed Frank and Alice Longbottom out of their decade-long coma.

"Hey, Dad, Mom," Neville whispered, a broad smile on his face as their eyes blinked open. He flitted from one bed to the next, turning his head around to alternate looking at his mother and father.

"Wh-where am I?" Frank Longbottom croaked, his voice raspy. The nurse quickly held up a glass of water for him, and he sipped through the proffered straw greedily.

"You're in Nair'i'caix," Neville explained.

"Neville?" his father seemed to just have realized who he was looking at.

"Yes, Dad." The pudgy boy grinned broadly as he was pulled into a tight hug. Not too long after, Alice Longbottom woke up, and Neville was pulled into a three-way hug as the nurse darted around, trying to perform a checkup on the two elder Longbottoms. Finally, she gave up and allowed the three to have their moment together before she interrupted them, an apologetic smile on her lips.

Harry watched for a few minutes longer, before turning around and leaving. He didn't need to see more. Whatever else was said was between Neville and his parents.

...

A knock on Harry's door caused him to look up from the reports he was reading. He hadn't realized just how much work it was to rule over the entirely of the holdings of House Polairix until it had actually landed on his desk. He was just glad that Queen Xerina and Count Hiscophney were quite capable of managing their respective nations by themselves, so the only thing he had to deal with was the fallout from the battle at the Ministry.

"Come in," he shouted.

The door cracked open, admitting both of Neville's parents. They were out of the wheelchairs they had been in for the first few days while the doctors and nurses worked at restoring the muscle mass and motor functions they had lost during the years they had laid in a coma. And while they still looked a little haggard, they were looking much better than they had just a few days ago.

Harry smiled at them. He had never seen Neville so happy ever since he met him, and, by extension, he had never seen Bella so… free, either. One of the greatest burdens on her soul had been lifted with this act and Neville's forgiveness, and he was grateful to his friend for that. Neville and Bella had had a long talk the day she had woken up from the injuries she'd received down in the ruins of Azkaban. Harry didn't know any details, he just knew that the two had been locked in a room for a good two hours, and when they'd come out, both of them had looked very relieved.

Bella had only told him that she'd apologized to Neville for what she had done, but not much more. Harry cornered his friend later on and managed to wring out a little more out of Neville. He'd told Harry that he and Bella had talked about the crimes she'd committed while she had served Voldemort, and her need to make amends. Harry had been fully prepared to deal with the potential fallout from that, as well, when Neville had surprised him. He'd told him that he'd forgiven Bella. Sure, she had done some horrible things, Neville had said, but that was the past. Nothing could be done to change it now, and everything she had done, everything she had risked in turning against Voldemort had gone a long way to making up for it.

But what had shocked Harry was Neville's parting comment, when the boy had told him that he didn't hate Bella. He didn't hate her, because she made Harry happy, and Neville was glad that his friend had found some peace in his life. He wasn't about to take that away to hold on to a grudge that would serve no purpose. Besides, Neville had admitted to Harry, he had suspected that Bella had been suffering from a form of psychosis while she was serving Voldemort; now that it was gone, she was a different person, someone he just couldn't hold accountable for the actions of a crazed mind.

That right there had told Harry one thing: Neville Longbottom would go on to be a great man. The kid was more generous, more forgiving than anyone Harry had ever met, and displayed a maturity in his decisions that most adults were sorely lacking. Most would hate Bella, despite everything she'd done. Heck, Bella hated Bella for what she'd done, but Neville had merely told her it would serve no purpose. She was good for Harry, and they both deserved a break, and that was that. Harry had been stunned, not even remembering to return Neville's wave as the boy took off to look after the Legion.

"Hey. What can I do for you?"