FicWad

CHAPTER 35: AFTERMATH

Author’s apology: I have been remiss in my posting. I lost my job some time ago, and finally ran out of money. I had to choose between electricity and the Internet. Sorry, folks, but my daughter’s health comes first. I am posting this from the local library, which just got internet capability (and you would not believe what a political mess that was! Religious fanatics insisting that any Internet connection without their specific ‘anti-anything-but-Jesus’ filtering software ™, would immediately draw in every impressionable child under the age of ten, and force them to watch the most deviant of Internet Porn…Idiots!)



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At one AM, on the morning of June twenty second, Harry and his group returned to Potter Castle. He walked amongst his students, and spoke quietly to each one.

“How are you holding up, Susan.” He asked as he hugged the quiet girl. Neville was holding a weeping Hannah just then, and Susan was shaking.

“I never want to do that again, Harry.” She sobbed. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’m cut out to be a Jedi Knight.”

“Susan, this is normal. Killing is never easy and I understand how you feel, believe me, I do, but before you decide to leave us, I want you to go help Neville comfort Hannah. You’ve been through this before, and just now, she needs you. Will you do that for me?”

Smiling sadly, Susan nodded, and turned to her lovers. Over her shoulder she called: “This isn’t over, Harry!”

“I know.” Harry smiled sadly.

Orla was holding Ginny while the twins, Luna, and Hermione were standing guard over Ron’s body.

Adrian Pucey was sitting miserably by himself in a corner. Harry smiled grimly as Mack walked over to him with a bottle in his hand. Harry spoke to Terrance Higgs who seemed to be holding up well. “Terrence, I’d like you to wander around and see if anybody needs to talk, cry, whatever.”

“OK, Harry.”

Sally-Ann, was also doing as well as can be expected. Harry spoke quietly. “You did well, Sally-Ann.”

“Thanks Harry.”

“Do you need anything?”

“My mother.”

“I’ll see what I can do, in the meantime, why not go have a chat with Tonks. She’s been though this before. Maybe she can be a sorta temporary mum…until I can get yours here. Judith, Hermione’s mum, is also around and I’ve never met a warmer, more loving mum than her.”

Sally-Ann smiled and excused herself.

“Flopsey.”

Instantly the little house elf appeared.

”You has called for Flopsey, master Harry potter?”

“Harry sighed at the title. “I’d like you and yours to keep an eye on the students…especially the ones who fought. If they want to drink, let them, underage or not, I don’t care. They need this. Just assign a house elf to them so they don’t do anything really dangerous. If you want, you can water down the liquor. It’ll help prevent alcohol poisoning, and they can still get drunk.” Flopsey looked disapproving at Harry’s license, but she also understood how the students would be feeling. She nodded and popped away to chivvy her staff.


The Montgomery twins were both holding each other and crying, so Harry spoke to them next.

“How are you two doing?” He asked.

“Harry, will we go to Hell for killing?” Anika asked.

“No.” Harry replied in a firm tone. “Those Death Eaters were, each and every one of them; murderers, rapists and torturers. If the Aurors had caught them, the punishment would have been Azkaban, or even execution. The problem is, if Fudge were still in office, the Aurors wouldn’t be allowed to catch them or if they did, the most dangerous of them would have bribed their way free to begin this circle again. What we did, was eliminate a cancer from our society, like a surgeon would. By cutting out the disease, we gave the whole, the chance to recover and heal.

If you need another reference, it says in the bible, ‘There is a time peace and a time for war.’ This was that time for war. You’ve killed, yes, but you did it under my orders…and under the authority of the Minister of Magic, and of the Queen, herself. You did your job protecting your country from a deadly threat, as any soldier would, and you did it well. You hold no blame for those deaths. I promise you.

Now, I’ve asked the mind healers at St. Mungo’s to come ‘round today, to have a chat with anyone who wants to. We also have a Master Mindhealer living right here in the castle. Don’t be afraid to seek her out. For that matter, you can also talk to Tonks, Remus, Hermione, Mack, Neville…and my door is always open. We’ve been in this fight for years and I don’t think anyone could understand better than us. If you need to talk…please…come see any of us.”

Both Montgomery’s nodded and he directed them to Tonks.


Looking around for his next potential problem, he spied, Daphne staring at Terrance with lust in her eyes, and Harry spoke quietly: “Just don’t forget your contraception, K?”

She blinked in surprise and then nodded with a blush, before heading over to the sandy-haired Slytherin.

Padma and Parvati seemed to have themselves under control. Both were folded into the lotus position, and were meditating. Their father had long before taught them that killing was sometimes a necessary evil and to allow the guilt to wash through them and leave them behind. Rahjit and Sanavi, would be coming shortly to speak with their daughters.

Megan and Li were in a corner, holding each other and gently kissing. Harry decided to leave them a bottle of wine and two glasses. Morag and Wayne were doing the same on a couch. He reminded them of the contraception potions as well, and left the same bottle and glasses.


Harry approached a somber Oliver Wood. “Hey, Oliver. How are you doing?”

“I never thought it would be this… I’m OK, Harry, I really am, but I just…wasn’t expecting this.”

“Nobody expects it Oliver. That’s why we try to avoid war. It’s an ugly business but it’s sometimes necessary. I wish it wasn’t, but there it is.”

“Yeah.”

“Will you keep an eye out on the younger students… just in case they want to talk? Especially Derek and Kevin. They look like they might need a shoulder.”

“Sure Harry.”

“Thanks, mate.”


“Mack?” Harry began. “I’d like you, Tonks and Remus to keep things in hand here. I’ve tried to pair up people with like attitudes, but Tonks, I want you to keep an eye on Anna, Anika and Sally-Ann. They’re all first-gen and are likely to have some doubts. Your dad was also first-gen and you, better than most, have a good idea what they’re going through. Being an Auror, you’ve also had to kill, and maybe you can help, if they need someone to cry on.”

“No problem, Harry.” Tonks smiled, though her eyes were a bit watery. “Babysitting duty, here I come!”

“Only for a few hours. I’ve arranged for some mind healers and some of the Aurors with combat experience to come in later this morning and make themselves available to anyone who needs to talk.

Remus, I want you to focus on Terry. He’s smart, and he respects the hell out of you, but he’s got this “I’m too smart to let this get to me.” thing going on, and we both know that can cause problems.

Mack, I’d like you to keep an eye on Anthony. He may need special attention.”

“Fair enough.”

“How about me, Harry?” Judith asked. She’d just walked up to the group, and kissed her husband deeply.

“Judith. Thanks for being here. I want them relaxed. If they want to dance, party, drink, or just raise hell, let them.

If they want to get drunk, let Flopsey know. I’ve asked her to make sure they each have an elf watching them so they don’t do anything really stupid. If they want to scream, let them, there are rooms all over the place for that. Winky will show you where they are.

I’ve also arranged a few rooms filled with breakables. If anybody needs it, tell them to have at it.”

“All right, Harry.” She said with a warm smile.


Harry climbed up to the stage and whistled for quiet. As soon as he had their attention, he said: “We won. It cost us some good men but we won. The Voldemort and his terrorists are gone, and maybe now we can drag the wizarding world into the twentieth century…” He broke off and thought for a second.

“Speaking of…I want everybody to give up your lightsabers for tonight. The house elves will collect them and store them in my office.”

Instantly the room was filled with objections.

“Only for tonight!” He interrupted. “Tomorrow you can pick them up, but I suspect a lot of you are going to be drinking and I don’t want any accidents! Understand?”

“What about you, Harry?” Somebody asked.


“I have to bring a friend home.” He replied sadly, turning from the podium to the table where Ron’s body lay.

“Come on, guys. Dobby, would you please take this?” Harry handed Ron’s lightsaber to the Jedi-elf, who accepted the weapon with due reverence.


Harry bent, picked up the body of his first friend and walked out the door.

****

Two minutes later, Harry apparated himself and Ron’s body to the Burrow. Hermione, Dobby, Luna, Fred, George and Ginny all appeared beside him. Each of them took a handful of Ron’s robes and together they carried their fallen comrade to the ramshackle house.


Arthur met them at the door, his face wet with tears.

They carried Ron’s body into the house and Arthur gestured to the kitchen. Carefully laying his first friend’s body on the well-scrubbed wooden table, Harry folded Ron’s hands over his chest, and neatened his robes before leading his group into the lounge.

Molly just sat on the couch and stared at the fallen clock hand.

Harry knelt before her and whispered: “I’m sorry.”


He felt the slap coming, and yet, he didn’t move.

SMACK! Harry reeled from the blow.

“Sorry? SORRY?” She screamed, as she scrambled to her feet and slapped Harry again. “Sorry? My son is dead and you’re SORRY?” Another slap followed, and a fourth.

Arthur bolted forward as she was about to hit Harry again, wrapped his arms tightly around his distraught wife, and bellowed: “MOLLY WEASLEY! STOP IT…NOW!”


Molly turned to her husband in shock. He’d rarely ever even raised his voice to her, and he’d never screamed at her. The twins and Ginny were also shocked. Arthur Weasley would always try to settle things as calmly and peacefully as possible.


Arthur spoke quietly: “Molly, we both know Harry well enough to know he did everything he could to protect Ron. I just know he did. But you know this was a war, and in war, people die. You know that, Molly. I know you do.”


Molly turned into her husband’s embrace, and wailed for the loss of her youngest son.


Harry knelt there uncomfortable as could be. His eyes burned. He could feel the tears sliding down his stinging cheeks. Hermione, her face also wet from tears, slipped in under his arm. Luna, Ginny and the twins were weeping as well. He and Hermione had lost a friend, but Luna had lost a husband and Fred, George and Ginny had lost their brother.


Harry felt he had no place amongst the Weasley family and so, he stood and had just turned to the door, when Arthur noticed his movement.

“There’s no need to leave, Harry. Please. Have a seat. Tell us what happened.” He gently urged the distraught Molly to reseat herself.


Hesitantly, Harry lowered himself into a chair. Hermione sat beside him. Luna and the younger Weasleys gathered on the couch.


Harry began with a sob: “He wasn’t supposed to be there at all!” With a great deal of effort, he gathered himself and spoke again. “He wasn’t ready. He took too many chances. All my instructors agreed with me. We…I didn’t think he was ready to face the Death Eaters. Maybe in a few years he would have been but…”

Harry broke off to breathe heavily. Calling on the force for calm helped…just a little. Truth be told, he was too upset to focus on the force, while his friend lay dead on the kitchen table and the woman who’d treated him like a son, glared at him with accusing eyes.

“I told him he wasn’t ready for that kind of conflict. He disagreed, so I ordered him to stay behind. I even had the house-elves put a sleeping potion in his lunch…just to be sure. I don’t understand how he got around it.”

Silence fell, to be broken a minute later by Ginny who quietly offered: “The Queen’s gambit, declined.”

“Huh?”

“Harry, you’re not very good a chess. Everyone knows that. Ron was a master. He anticipated your move and had a defense all ready for it. He obviously bought something to neutralize the potion you had the elves give him!”

Harry’s eyes flashed. “Winky!” He called. Instantly the little elf appeared. “You has called for Winky, Master Harry?”

“Yes, Winky. Did Ron buy anything by owl yesterday or the day before?”

“Yes, Master Harry. He sent an owl yesterday morning to Diagon Alley. He is telling Winky he is buying something special for mistress Luna Weasley, and you has given permission. The owl returned to the castle just before lunch. Winky does not know what was in the box.”

“Thank you, Winky.” Harry rasped. Winky departed as silently as she’d come.


“Well, there you have it.” Ginny whispered sadly: “He expected you to dose him, and bought an antidote.”

“How could I have missed that?” Harry asked himself.

Fearing her husband would blame himself for Ron’s death, Hermione spoke up.

“Harry, you cannot possibly anticipate every single contingency! That you managed to destroy Voldemort and all his Death Eaters, with only four casualties is nothing short of miraculous.”

Molly gasped: “He’s dead?” Just as Arthur said: “I agree with Hermione. You’ve done what nobody else could and you kept the casualties far lower than anybody could have expected.”

Molly repeated herself. “He’s dead? Please, Harry, tell me he’s well and truly dead!”

“Mrs. Weasley, I killed him. He’s gone. What’s more, all his Death Eaters are dead as well.”

“You killed them all?” Molly was appalled. That these young people had killed was bad enough, but she knew that there were more than few Death Eaters. To have killed them all…

Then she realized. Her babies had killed! She stared in horror at her children, at Luna, at Harry and Hermione, who were as good as her own… They had all killed!

Before she could say something foolish, Arthur spoke up once more: “I’m proud of you, Harry! I’m so very proud of you all! You’ve taken on the responsibilities of adults and I have to say, you’ve executed those responsibilities far better than nearly any adult I could name. You’ve ended Voldemort’s reign of terror…for good, this time. You’ve eliminated an unknown dark lord. You’ve helped to create a new government that will hold all to be equal. You’ve changed our news system into something that actually respects the truth…” he muttered sotto voce: “How you managed that, I’ll never know!” but the Jedi all heard it anyway. He blushed at the snickers, but kept going. “…and you’ve hopefully taught the people of this country to think instead of just following people who shout the loudest. For that, I thank you.”

From his seat he inclined his body into a bow. At Hermione’s nudge, the shocked Harry bowed in return.

Over the next hour, details of the battle were given and questions answered, and plans were made for Ron’s funeral.


It was only after Harry, Hermione and Dobby had departed that Molly recalled what Winky had said. Turning to the flaxen haired girl, she asked: “Mistress Luna Weasley?”

Arthur was suddenly nervous. “Ah, Molly…” He cleared his throat. “About that…”

****

While Harry was bringing his friend home, Amelia ordered the dead in Little Hangleton identified and buried. There were nearly a thousand bodies in the town. For some reason, Voldemort had thought it amusing to preserve the bodies in exactly the condition they were in when they died, and for the past three years they’d lain unburied. The oldest was a sixty-six year-old man named Frank Bryce; the youngest was a newborn girl who had yet to be named.

Amelia wept at the sight.

****

Dobby popped Harry and Hermione to Rita Skeeter’s place where she was waiting with a fresh pot of tea, a new dicta-quill and a stack of parchment.

“This might take some time, Hermione. You don’t have to wait.”

“My place is with you, Harry.” She returned firmly, and then smiled. “You should know that by now.”


Rita wisely kept her mouth shut.


Harry smiled as well, and began his tale.

****


On the morning of the twenty-second, Queen Elizabeth smiled in relief, as a snowy owl appeared. The beautiful creature ghosted down to her breakfast table where she stood on one foot, offering the small envelope tied to the other.

Brushing aside the concerns of her staff, the Queen gently untied the message and offered the bird some kippers and water. Bobbing her head once, Hedwig drank and then, snatching one of the small fish, left the room on silent wings.

Opening the envelope, She smiled once more, as a familiar white card fell out. On it were the words she had written nearly a year before:

“What has been done, has been done for the good of France, and under my hand.

Richelieu.”

“Thank you, Lord Gryffindor!” She breathed.

****

That morning’s breakfasts all over Britain, were interrupted by many people screaming in joy and not a few, fainting dead away. In the great hall at Hogwarts School, cheers resounded as the few teachers remaining over the summer, rejoiced.

Minerva smiled at the headlines.

THE DARK LORD IS DEAD!!!

Dear readers, writes Rita Skeeter, special correspondent to The Daily Prophet. The long years of terror are over. Shortly after mid-night this morning, this reporter was privileged to witness the fall of the dark lord Voldemort. (Editor’s note: Mister Potter kindly reminded us that the fear of a name only increases the fear of the thing itself, therefore, none of us here at The Daily Prophet will ever again use that ridiculous bunch of hyphens!) Voldemort and all his marked supporters, many of whom claimed to be under Imperius the last time, met their ends at the hands of the one prophesized to destroy him.

This reporter was taken with Harry Potter as he was kidnapped by the Death Eaters, from Godric’s Hollow, where he was paying homage to his parents, and brought to Little Hangleton, a small hamlet near Birmingham, where Voldemort made his base, to witness what they thought would be the death of Harry Potter and the fall of the light.

It was their overconfidence that led to their complete eradication. Not one survived.

Voldemort appeared at precisely two minutes before mid-night and began to describe how he would eliminate all the followers of the light…how he would establish a new world order wherein the few purebloods beholden to him would rule, wherein those of what he called ‘lesser blood’ would be tiered beneath the purebloods, wherein the ‘blood traitors (Purebloods who dared to disagree with his views and/or his methods) and please excuse the expression, ‘mudbloods’ (Those witches and wizards of mundane parentage, formerly called ‘mugglebornes’ and now referred to as ‘first-generation’.) would die and wherein the mundanes who make up the vast majority of the world’s population would either live as slaves, or be eradicated entirely.

He went on to describe his next campaign, which he expected to commence immediately following the execution of Harry Potter. He intended to kill the Queen of England and all her family, as a lesson to the mundanes never to defy him; before storming Hogwarts and slaughtering everyone in the castle. His justification for murdering those in the school, was that since they were still within the walls, they obviously supported his nemesis, Albus Dumbledore.

Apparently he neither knew nor cared that Dumbledore fled the castle in April when his manipulations and blood-purist mindset were exposed. (For details see: the reprinted ‘Dumbledore Ousted From Hogwarts!’ Pg 7)

Dumbledore’s whereabouts are unknown but Potter has granted this reporter an unusual and exclusive interview describing the manipulations of Albus Dumbledore in detail. Quite frankly many of these details sickened this reporter. (See: ‘Dark Lord Dumbledore’ under-fold.)


Alas, Voldemort’s plans were thwarted, not by enemy action, but by his own arrogance and lack of foresight. While posturing, he noticed the magical sword Potter carried, and took it from him. In the doing, he cast the Cruciatus curse no less than seven times…on his own Death Eaters…for ‘the crime’ of not checking Potter closely enough! What kind of madman tortures his own followers?

Apparently while examining the weapon, he pointed its dangerous end toward himself, and somehow managed to turn it on, killing himself in a moment of ultimate stupidity.

Potter, summoned the weapon to his hand…wandlessly…and his students, whom he called ‘Jet-eyes’ appeared via specialized portkeys attuned to himself. Together they faced the Death Eaters, and in the end, emerged victorious. Potter offered quarter once but in response, Draco Malfoy, the first Death Eater to fall, cast the killing curse. Potter immediately reflected the evil curse back on its caster with his magical sword, and from then on it was a slaughter. While the Death Eaters cast dark spells left and right, including the unforgivables, the Jet-eye students merely reflected them back at the casters, and used their magical swords to grisly effect. The Jet-eyes fought with precision and ruthless efficiency, but the Death Eaters fanatically refused to yield. They died to the last. This reporter was appalled at the utter brutality of this battle, but as an American General once said: “If the people raise a great howl against my barbarity and cruelty, I will answer that war is cruelty. There is no use trying to reform it. The crueler it is, the sooner it will be over.”

(Editor’s note: For a list of the slain Death Eaters, see page 13. Be aware, though, the list is complete, accurate and verified. You might not like what you find there!)

Before you ask, no, there will not be another dark lord to replace him. Despite what Albus Dumbledore has so often said, Harry Potter is not a dark wizard. He is firmly on the side of the light, and he and his friends have been training diligently for the past year, for this one battle. These young people, had all set aside their own lives in order to destroy the scourge of our world, that was Voldemort.

Alas, war is not without it’s cost. We were fortunate. The price the Jet-eyes paid could have been much, much higher.

The casualties include Harry’s long-time friend, Ronald Weasley, who was killed defending his friend’s back, Aurors Sean Christopher, and Michael Bleaksley and French Gendarme supérieur, Eduard Guillaume. Christopher and Bleaksley are survived by their wives and in Christopher’s case, son. Guillaume was a widower.

Minerva wept for the brash, angry, and jealous youth who’d made much of the past years difficult. He would be remembered as a hero, but for now she allowed herself to vent the grief within. She remembered teaching Christopher and Bleaksley. Both had done exceptionally well in her class. Guillaume was a stranger, but his sacrifice…in and for a country he probably disliked, as there was a long-standing antipathy between the French and the British, would also be remembered well.

****

Below the fold-line, another headline, equally vibrant and far more important, read:

DARK LORD DUMBLEDORE!!

For the second time in his life, Harry Potter has agreed to an exclusive interview with this reporter, held early this morning. Writes Rita Skeeter, special correspondent to The Daily Prophet. This time, however, he brought news of an invidious and devastating deception. He came to this reporter with unimpeachable evidence that we were not under the threat of one dark lord, but two! Says Potter: “You cannot allow one man, or one group of people unfettered freedom, in deciding the fate of everyone in the country, because that is what creates dark lords. There is an old saying: “Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely!” Well I have to tell you, it is my considered opinion, that to allow anyone to gain that kind of power in the first place is the greatest act of cowardice known to man. For not only is it failing to take action against a deadly problem, but refusing to acknowledge that problem in the first place.

No great empire has ever been conquered from the outside. In every single case, they were eroded, corrupted and eventually destroyed from within. In fact every great empire, the Assyrians, the Egyptians, the Greeks, the Romans, they all fell because they ignored the world around them, they tucked their heads into their robes and most importantly, they allowed a few people with no morals whatsoever, to rule them. They allowed the corruption…the very same corruption that has until recently, suffocated the British wizarding world, to form and to fester. That corruption is what has caused us to drop far behind every the other country in the world.


In nearly every other nation on Earth, the wizarding populace has accepted the mundanes as their equals. In nearly every other nation, there is an understanding to share the benefits of magic and technology…without violating the statute of secrecy. It can be done. Britain, and a few of the Western European countries are the only ones left, that reject the advancement of the mundanes…simply because they are not magical. No other country uses owls for post. In no other country do people have to fling themselves into a fireplace to travel. We have stagnated and the primary cause of that stagnation is one man. A man who has carefully guided the witches and wizards of Britain backwards to the seventeenth century, where progress was prohibited. Our schools are literally centuries behind the rest of the world. This one man has held the controls of Britain in his hands for nearly a hundred years.”

When this reporter asked him to elucidate, Potter frowned and said: “Let me tell you a little story:

Around the end of 1926, a little boy was born. His mother was a witch; I don’t know her name, who’d used some sort of enchantment or a potion, most likely a potion, on his father, who was a mundane named Tomas Riddle. Somehow, she got him to fall in love with her, and she conceived a child. Some time later, Riddle left her…pregnant and destitute. She made her way to London, to an orphanage called St, Justice’s Home for Indigent and Orphaned Boys, where she had her child and died.

She lived only long enough to name the baby Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Tom Riddle grew up in that orphanage. A place that should have been shut down, but was supported by donations from an anonymous account with the stipulation that it was to remain exactly as it was the day Riddle was born. Until I asked the goblins for assistance, the only thing ever to be discovered about that account, were the initials APWBD.

There has only been one man in Britain with those initials since before the time of Edward Longshanks…Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. It turns out he was funding the orphanage. He even ‘selected’ the other orphans that lived there, to ensure they beat, tormented and demeaned Riddle as much as humanly possible.


This orphanage was the very worst sort of workhouse, where children were beaten in the name of God! In fact, the words ‘God Is Love’ were painted on the walls to remind these children, these innocents, that they were cast offs…unwanted burdens on society, and true to form, most of them ended up wearing a noose. One child took that reminder seriously and at first, did his very best to stay out of trouble. Unfortunately when Tom began to show signs of magic, he was beaten by a superstitious and seemingly pious staff, for the ‘crime’ of being a wizard.

Why did Dumbledore fund a mundane orphanage? The answer might surprise you. I’ve had my staff do some extensive research and they discovered several hundred discrepancies in Dumbledore’s past. The first of which is his age.

Aberforth Dumbledore himself told me that Albus was born, not in 1881 as has always been thought, but in 1837, Abe is eleven years his junior. Albus discovered magic very early on and was in fact taken as apprentice by Nicholas Flames when he was eighteen. While he was professor of transfiguration and later on, headmaster of Hogwarts, he never actually attended school there. He was schooled at the ‘Académie de les Magiques Mystérieux et Arcane’ in eastern France. While a transfiguration prodigy, and an exceptional potions brewer, his grades in other disciplines were lackluster at best. Nevertheless, Nicholas saw something in him and took him on.

Nicholas told me in a letter, that Dumbledore had managed to create a mildly effective Philosophers Stone, which extended his life somewhat. It was that stone he’d used in my first year at Hogwarts to lure Voldemort out of hiding and into the school, specifically to force Voldemort and me into conflict. That hundreds of students could have died had Voldemort ordered it, meant less than nothing to him.”

Since Lord Gryffindor was becoming rather upset, writes Rita Skeeter, we decided to adjourn for some tea, to allow him to collect himself. This was after all, a personal and rather painful recounting. Less than a half hour later, Lord Gryffindor continued his narration.

“There, at the ‘Académie’, Dumbledore met his longtime friend…the man known only as Grindelwald, who had attended the Durmstrang Institut für Magie, and together they decided the world needed the guidance of the magical elite, to simply exist. Neither of them wanted any sort of advancement, as that would create dissent. For nearly fifty years they worked behind the scenes to warp the magical world into their utopia, until Grindelwald decided they weren’t going fast enough.

He was somehow able to conscript the up and coming wizard Grigori Yefimovich Rasputin, who had also attended Durmstrang. Under his influence, Rasputin took control of the Russian aristocracy, intending to create a smaller model of his utopia within the confines of that secretive nation. Fortunately for us, though not for them, the Marxist-Socialist party; who followed the writings of Friedrich Engels, a compatriot of the German wizard Karl Marx; decided the time was ripe for revolution. As a result, Rasputin was killed…six times, in fact, and the Dumbledore/Grindelwald utopia fell in flames.

Now, we’re going to fast-forward a bit. Dumbledore knew Grindelwald wasn’t going to return to the shadows, so he decided he needed to ‘eliminate’ his old friend…for the ‘greater good’ as it were. Unfortunately by that time, Grindelwald had grown so powerful, magically speaking; Dumbledore knew he wasn’t up to the task of defeating his former partner. It took almost nine years of searching, but if nothing else, Dumbledore is patient. He discovered the infatuation of a poor but not particularly bright witch from an inbred line, the last remains of the Slytherin line, to a rich, handsome, mundane squire, named Tomas Riddle Jr.

Alchemy isn’t all that far removed from potions, is it? As I see it, Dumbledore either helped this witch create a lust potion or he gave her one. Riddle took a sip and from then on, he was hers. They eloped, and left Little Hangleton, for parts unknown.

Now, nobody knows exactly what happened, but for some reason, this witch stopped dosing the man. Perhaps she thought he loved her, or perhaps she was ‘influenced’ to do so. In any case, as soon as the potion had worn off, he scarpered. He returned to his home in Little Hangleton and claimed she had ‘bewitched’ him, surprisingly accurate, that, and refused any responsibility for the pregnant woman and unborn child he left behind, and for him that was the end of that.

For her, it was another story. Here she was, alone, pregnant and afraid. She made it to that orphanage, delivered Tom, and promptly died.

One must wonder why she died. Broken heart? I don’t think so. More likely, a certain manipulative old wizard with delusions of godhood, had ‘something’ to do with it.

So a defenseless baby was left at an orphanage run by superstitious fools, and funded by a megalomaniac.

My question is…how is it possible a powerfully magical baby was left in a mundane orphanage? Where was the much-vaunted Department of Magical Children? Even back then, it was common practice to place magical children with their closest relatives if they had any, and with foster families if they didn’t. So why was it, a magical baby was left there, but never investigated? He must have had episodes of accidental magic, so why were these discharges never looked into?

Once again, we find the manipulative fingers of Albus Dumbledore in the mix.

Executive order of the Wizengamot, 1009-0002-1-27, dated 2 January 1927, initiated by newly named councilor, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, and signed into law without discussion or vote, under the ‘National Urgency Doctrine’, by then-chief of the Wizengamot, Thaddeus Ablatus Marius, which read: “No magical disturbance from St. Justice’s Home for Indigent and Orphaned Boys, located in south London, is to be investigated due to ongoing social experiment being conducted there.”

(Editor’s note: This order is real. When Lord Potter mentioned it, one of the owners of the Daily Prophet, S. Landers, went directly to the hall of records at the Ministry of Magic, to investigate. She was joined in her search, by none other than Augusta Longbottom, currently chief of the Wizengamot. She found it with little difficulty, though when she did find it, the name of the originator and several passages were obscured. A member of the Department of Mysteries was able to dispel the obfuscation charms and Albus Dumbledore’s name came to light. For a copy of the executive order, please see page 15.)

Albus Dumbledore arranged for a hostile environment, to forge a weapon. That’s what he considered Riddle. A weapon, nothing more. A weapon to be used to kill his old friend. By a strange coincidence, Thaddeus Marius died of a heart attack less than a week later.


Now, let’s go a bit farther forward. Over the next ten years, Dumbledore had been watching the world scene. He’d managed to get himself a nice cushy job at Hogwarts, where he could begin to pull strings from the shadows. In that ten years and the following ten, more than sixty percent of the courses taught at Hogwarts seemed to have disappeared. Amongst those courses were Alchemy, Logic, Mathematics of any sort other than basic Arithmancy, Languages, Other-Than-Human languages and culture, Politics, Wizarding Culture, for first gen’s, Muggle Culture, for the pure and half-bloods, which was replaced by that travesty called ‘Muggle Studies’…which incidentally is three hundred years out of date and is taught by a pureblood who has never even seen, let alone spoken to a mundane, Blood-Magicks, Warding, Battle-Magicks and Tactics, World Affairs, Law, Accounting…basically anything that could be used to recognize or prevent just what he was doing.

Secretly and surely gathering the strings of government to himself.

Hasn’t anybody wondered why -one man- was in control of the ‘preeminent school of magic in Britain’, head of the legislative and judicial branches of the government, and head of the legislative branch of the international government? People have been burying their heads in the sand…ignoring the signs of Dumbledore’s takeover, for almost a hundred years.


Now, in the early thirties, Dumbledore saw that his old friend was influencing world events again when a little known labor union in Germany came to the public eye. In 1932, a charismatic and popular orator named Adolph Hitler became his public image. In January of 1933, despite their vocal differences of governmental opinion, Hitler was named chancellor of Germany by then president Paul von Hindenburg who died of an undiagnosed cancer less than two years later. It is strongly suspected Grindelwald had something to do with Hindenburg’s death, but like much of that time, there is no concrete evidence.

(Editor’s Note: Concrete is a building material used by the mundanes in buildings, roads bridges and the like. It is made of crushed rock, certain minerals and something called ‘reebay’. The material is exceeding hard and durable. In fact there is evidence that many of the ancient monuments such as the coliseum and temples in Rome were made at least in part of concrete. For more on the advances of the mundane world, see pg, 11.)


With Hitler in power and Grindelwald guiding him, Dumbledore realized he needed to begin to hone his weapon.

Now let’s get to 1937.

When Tom was ten, he had a visitor…Albus Dumbledore, who delivered his Hogwarts acceptance letter…which was surprising because he should have begun in September of 1938. For some reason, Dumbledore ignored the usual cut-off date of September the first.

Those who survived his years at the orphanage, and it’s destruction in a ‘mysterious fire’ in 1944, described Tom as a ‘dangerous hooligan’, who was not only a thief, but could ‘hurt people’. By this, my investigators discovered that even as a child, he was magically able to influence people to do things. Although there was no usable evidence, he was suspected in the suicide of Mrs. Nandy, an assistant director of the orphanage, who in 1935, jumped from the North Tower into the Thames, and in the loss to insanity, of several children staying there, and in the sister facility, St. Mary’s Home for Orphaned Girls, several blocks away. Coincidentally those were children who he’d had problems with, and he despised Mrs. Nandy in particular. It seemed that anybody who got on his bad side, paid for irritating him in a rather permanent manner.

Starting in ’37, Tom Riddle attended Hogwarts where he quickly grew contemptuous of all other wizards. He discovered his story and that through his mother’s line, he was the end of a cadet branch of the Slytherin family and so, by the time he was fifteen, he had decided it was his ‘manifest destiny’ to rule the world. To that end, he began to attract a group of like-minded followers, which he named after Grindelwald’s ‘Knights of Walpurgis’. They later came to be known as Death Eaters. Tom so hated his father for the perceived desertion he forever eschewed his name and adopted another. Mixing up the letters in his name he created an anagram. That anagram was ‘I AM LORD VOLDEMORT’.

Yes, that is entirely correct. Lord Voldemort, known throughout his reign, as the most fervent advocate of the blood purist movement, was not, in fact, a pureblood at all, his father was completely non-magical.


Now, there are those who would try to convince you that first-gens are evil or are trying to destroy the long-held traditions of the wizarding world, but I’d like to remind you: The five most powerful wizards and the two most powerful witches in the past hundred years are Rasputin, Grindelwald, Dumbledore, Riddle, myself, Lily Potter, and my wife, Hermione. Three purebloods, two half-bloods, and my mother, and Hermione, are of course, the first witches in their lines.

Of the seven of us, the ones who decided to become dark lords were the three purebloods and one of the half-bloods. It bears thinking about.

That said, we’ll get back to my story.

From what my investigators discovered, Dumbledore intended to sacrifice Riddle in the battle, in order to weaken Grindelwald enough for him to cast the killing blow. Unfortunately for him, I believe Tom discovered the plan before that could happen, and said: “Thanks but no thanks.”

He vanished before Dumbledore could shove him onto the front lines, as the war was expected to go on for another two years or more, and so Albus had to face his old friend on his own.

Now, nobody really knows how Dumbledore killed Grindelwald. All we had was a dead body saturated with dark magicks, Dumbledore’s word, and the support of some people who mysteriously died shortly thereafter.

Coincidence? I think not. There’s an old military saying: “Once, could be an accident, twice, might be coincidence…three times, is enemy action.”


Following his ‘victory’ Dumbledore was lauded as a hero. He was able to parlay that fame, into the many titles he held, including the newly opened position of headmaster of Hogwarts. Interestingly enough, that position came available because the former headmaster Armando Dippet died of a sudden heart attack at his home in Leeds…shortly after a visit from Dumbledore.

His widow told my agents that Dumbledore had stopped in for a cuppa, and her husband had asked her to go to the market in Hogsmeade for some shortbread biscuits. When she returned, Dumbledore was preparing to leave, and Armando wasn’t feeling well.

Her last comment to my agent was that Armando didn’t like shortbread.

Do you see a trend developing?


For the next twenty years everything seemed to be fine, until one day, Tom Riddle returned to Hogwarts. He approached Dumbledore asking for the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. The portraits tell me that Dumbledore denounced Riddle as a dark wizard and fired upon him. Riddle fired back but was forced to flee. Dumbledore was correct, Riddle -was- a dark wizard, and borderline psychotic, and it was likely a very good job that Riddle never got the position he wanted, but Dumbledore needed a dark -lord-, not a dark wizard…so he created one. It was his rhetoric that ensured that from then on, Riddle, or Voldemort, as you know him, would be known as that dark lord. Given that Grindelwald had been gone for twenty years, people were beginning to notice his little manipulations and so he needed an expendable evil to conquer, in order to bolster his flagging popularity.

Voldemort became just the dark lord Dumbledore needed, but it was Dumbledore who guaranteed he would. Unfortunately Albus never considered an American axiom. “Be careful what you wish for…you just might get it.”

Now, Dumbledore had a dark lord to defeat, but just as before, our former headmaster knew he wasn’t powerful enough to face Riddle on his own. He was over a hundred twenty at the time, and so the story begins again.

Riddle gathered his old followers and began the reign of terror that you lot, call the ‘Voldemort years’. Dumbledore began to search out potential candidates, for someone…anyone…to destroy his creation. He formed the Order of the Phoenix as an intelligence-gathering machine.

That’s where I came in to it. My parents began Hogwarts in the early seventies, and he realized they were not only powerful enough to defeat Riddle, but also smart enough to understand that they were being played for fools. He laid on the charm and the ‘wise old man’ twinkle, and more than a few behavioral compulsions, which I happen to know he loves using, and even before they’d finished school, he brought them into the order.

Each of them, my mother and father, Sirius Black…my godfather, Remus Lupin…my ‘uncle Moony’, Frank and Alice Longbottom, were powerful and brave. They were also frightfully intelligent. At the height of Voldemort’s power, they had each defeated his plans more than once, though my parents and the Longbottoms had thwarted him three times.

One more time-shift now.

In May or so of 1980, Dumbledore was interviewing candidates for the newly opened position of Divination. He was planned on eliminating the study in case there proved to be one of those very few people under instruction turned out to be a genuine seer…an unwelcome prospect for one who loves hiding secrets. However, it was a popular class, and he wished to be seen as fair and equable to all, so he placed an announcement in The Daily Prophet for applicants. When Sybil Trelawney the great granddaughter of the noted seer Cassandra Trelawney, applied, having very little of the gift that had made her ancestor so noted, he saw his chance. He made up a prophecy, that was specifically tailored to either my parents or the Longbottoms, and somehow, I believe he used the Imperius, got her to spout it in the Hogshead Inn of all places. Now I mean no disrespect to Aberforth, but really! The Hogshead is as disreputable a place as can be found anywhere…even in Knockturn alley. Criminals, thugs, politicians and other lowlifes are there in such concentration that the place was banned to all Hogwarts students! So why would Dumbledore hold an interview with a potential seer…someone who can predict the future…in such an unsecure location during a time of war, instead of in his triply warded office in ‘the safest place in Britain’?

The answer; Dumbledore knew Severus Snape, a veteran Death Eater who’d been serving Voldemort for more than four years by that time, had been ordered to spy on him. He set up the interview specifically to lead Voldemort directly to my parents. He knew that day, that Snape was listening at the door and knowing Snape would take whatever he heard straight to Voldemort, he had Trelawney say just enough to interest Tom. Aberforth told me last month, that he’d gotten a message dart from Albus that evening, telling him of a suspected eavesdropper. When he found Snape with his ear to the door, he chucked him into the midden. Why nobody interrogated Snape under Veritaserum is obvious. Albus wanted it that way.

Here’s the part Snape heard:

“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…”

Snape had no reason to disbelieve what little he had heard, and so, neither did Voldemort. While he derided the old magicks, Tom Riddle believed in prophesy. Funny thing, that. Had Voldemort known the entire prophecy, he’d have stayed as far away from us as he could. As it was, he set a false prophecy into motion, and in doing so; it became both real and self-fulfilling.

Dumbledore knew this.

Here’s the -whole- prophecy:

“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…And the Dark Lord shall mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not…And either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the dark lord will be born as the seventh month dies…”

With that handful of…words… (Editors note: Potter used an explosive and rather vulgar epithet and so, for the sake of decency, the editing staff here at The Prophet, decided to substitute ‘words’) Dumbledore set me, and my parents up to die, in the hopes Voldemort would be killed as well. All for his idea of a pureblood utopia in which he would rule, his selected pureblood sycophants would be his army and where all other witches and wizards, and every mundane on Earth, would be slaves.

That was his idea of utopia! Not so funnily, it’s also Riddle’s idea of utopia.

When my mother ‘vanquished’ Voldemort…and it was not my actions that vanquished him, but hers, and likely my father’s as well, Dumbledore suspected he wasn’t quite as dead as everybody would have liked and so, he had me…the only survivor, taken from my rightful guardian, Sirius Black, to him. He bound my magic against all law, and decency, and placed me on the doorstep of the most vile, thaumophobic child abusers I can imagine…in the middle of the night…in November. Professor McGonagall told me last year that he had ordered her to not interfere, and told her that everything was under control, as he’d left a letter with me. I was a toddler who had already learned to walk. I checked with the national weather service. The temperature that night was near freezing.

Professor McGonagall discovered last summer that he’d placed behavioral compulsions on her to ensure she slavishly followed every order he gave, no matter how illegal or inane that order. Those compulsions have since been dispelled.

Was I intended to survive that night? I cannot say. He told me himself last June: “Harry, five years ago, when you arrived at Hogwarts, safe and whole as I had planned and intended…well not quite whole. I knew you had suffered. When I placed you on your aunt’s doorstep, I knew I was condemning you to ten dark and difficult years.”

“Dark and difficult doesn’t even begin to cover it. More like ten years of slavery, malnutrition…starvation even, brutality and worse.”

He knew how I was treated, because he sent instructions on a monthly basis, to ensure I was as beaten down as possible. My investigators, led by the law offices of Carolyn Chapman and Associates, using the end of line clause of the Ancient and Noble Houses Acts, and with the full cooperation of the Ministry of Magic, the Wizengamot and Gringotts bank, were able to access information Dumbledore would much rather keep quiet.

They discovered he’d violated the terms of my parent’s will, by placing me with a family they’d prohibited me from even meeting.

They discovered that he’d sealed that will and taken it from their vault and placed it in his own.

They discovered he’d arranged for Sirius Black, my Godfather to be sent to Azkaban without so much as the thought of a trial, specifically so he could place me with the Dursleys. (Editor’s note: See: ‘Sirius Black. Innocent!’ Pg 19)

They discovered that he’d named himself my magical guardian and in doing so, he’d granted himself access to my family’s vaults.

They discovered he’s been using that power to funnel gold from my family’s vaults to himself and quite a few other people, including former Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, and inner-circle Death Eaters, Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape.

They discovered that he’d placed several Antipathus Magi curses on my…I can’t call them family as there is nothing familial about them except common blood, so ‘relatives’ will have to serve. He placed those curses keyed to my magic, an illegal act, yes, but then Albus Dumbledore has only a passing interest in what’s legal. If he wants something, and there are laws in the way, those laws disappear, or he finds or invents a way around them. Speaking of blood and laws, Albus Dumbledore pushed through a law in 1945, called the “Prohibition Of The Use of Dark Magicks in Britain.” One of those magicks he defined as ‘dark’ involved the use of blood in any way, shape or form. So why was he able to place what he called ‘blood protections’ around my relatives home? Something else he managed to twinkle his way through.

I guess Mel Brooks was right. “It’s good to be the king.”

****

On the twenty-third, on their way to lunch, Harry spoke to Amelia.

“We have one more arrest to make.”

“Yes. He’s been playing nice, but I want a clean sweep.”


Before the meal was served, Harry stood and addressed the students. “You’ve all done an outstanding job. But we’re not quite done. We have one more arrest to make before we can relax. Unfortunately this one arrest is Rufus Scrimgeour. While he’s not a Death Eater, he is a supporter; he’s been providing monetary and logistical support, and active intelligence to Voldemort. That is treason; not only against the ministry, but when you consider all the mundane citizens who’ve died in Voldemort’s reign of terror; it’s treason against the crown. Tomorrow morning, we will arrest him and he will be tried within a fortnight.”

Every student there volunteered to make the arrest. Harry smiled.

Arrangements were made and the next morning, Harry, Hermione, and his senior lieutenants all used Augusta’s portkey to enter the ministry undetected. The other students would floo in by ones and twos. They gathered in the atrium and waited for Scrimgeour to arrive.

Sure enough, he arrived by floo at ten minutes past nine, more than an hour after the rest of the staff was at work.

Harry and his senior lieutenants stepped into his path, while he rest of the Jedi students formed up around them. Amelia Bones, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Connie Hammer, approached him from behind.

“Rufus Scrimgeour…” Harry spoke clearly and loud enough for those standing several feet away to hear. “You are under arrest for…”

“Avada Kedavra!” Scrimgeour cast the curse so quickly, it was a miracle anybody saw it. Nevertheless, Harry’s lightsaber flashed up, bolstered by Hermione’s and Neville’s, and returned the deadly bolt to its caster. Rufus fell soundlessly. Around them, blades of brilliant energy had snapped into existence just as swiftly, as the Jedi gathered into a tight circle, with Harry and Hermione at the center, surrounding them with an almost solid barrier of energy.

Harry shut down his lightsaber and finished what he was saying. “…treason, for murder, for collusion with Voldemort, and for incompetence and graft.”


Kingsley held his hand up signaling the Aurors to do nothing. Harry nodded at his troops and one by one, the lancets of energy vanished. Weapons were returned to belts, but many in the atrium saw that the strangely armed people seemed ready to unleash them at a moment’s notice!


Amelia began her damage control, by explaining to the crowd, that they’d intended to arrest and try Scrimgeour for his crimes, but his using the unforgivable ended that hope. She also explained how the weapons the Jedi carried were in fact, perfectly legal for them to have and as their governmental advocates, she and Augusta had jointly issued licenses for all Jedi to carry their lightsabers wherever they went.


Rita carried the story, describing the attempt to arrest Scrimgeour and his murderous reaction. She also made sure the populace knew Harry’s group were innocent of any wrongdoing.

****

They returned to Potter Castle that afternoon, only for Harry to be laid out by a right cross from Neville as soon as he’d appeared.

“Why the HELL didn’t you tell me you’d spoken to my parents!?!” Cried the furious Longbottom from the dozens of feet of rope that now bound him. Hermione stood with a ready wand, for any other sign of aggression from their friend.

Harry stood up and rubbed his cheek. “Y’know, Neville, you’re gonna have to do something about that temper of yours.”

“You have a bloody lot of room to talk! Why didn’t you tell me? I could have been talking to them for months! I could have…” Neville broke off with a blush as he realized what he was about to say. He was smart enough to understand what Harry hadn’t said.

“That’s why.”

“Sorry, Harry.”

“It’s OK...but let’s not make a habit of knocking me on my arse, alright?”

Neville gave him a shy smile.

Hermione let him go. Together they headed to the infirmary where two people lay, imprisoned in their own bodies by a megalomaniac.

“Neville, I intended to tell you, but I couldn’t before the mission and you know why. Lavender, as Ricky Ricardo used to say: “You got some ‘splainin’ to do.”

“I’m sorry, Harry.” The buxom healer blushed. “Neville came in while I was tending Alice and he heard me talking to her. Unfortunately I had just mentioned your orders when I realized he was there.”

“And he got angry. OK, it was bad timing. Nothing more.”

“Thanks for understanding, Harry.” Neville muttered, still embarrassed at his explosion. “So, what now?”

“If this is what we think, the effects will begin to wear off after Dumbledore loses his magic. About three, mebby four months.

Just now I’m all in, but tomorrow, I’ll take you through the shield and you can meet your folks.”

“Thanks, Harry.”

****

The next morning after breakfast, Harry guided Neville into his mother’s mind. The reunion was teary and prolonged with many crushing embraces, protestations of love and demands to let her just look at him. He literally had to force the Longbottom heir out, before the calming potion wore off, as it would be hideously painful to leave after that.

He promised that on the following morning, he would introduce Neville to his father.


****

On the thirtieth of June, Harry stepped into the room Hermione by his side. There, standing at the end were the two young princes.

The Queen looked up and smiled. “Ah, Lord Gryffindor. You’re early.”

Then to her grandsons, she said: “Your Highnesses, may I present Harry James Potter, Lord Gryffindor, and Hermione Jane Potter, Lady Gryffindor.”

The two teenage princes were suddenly all smiles.

Prince Harry blurted: “Are you really a Jedi Knight?”

Harry barked out a laugh and then replied: “I beg your pardon, Majesty.”

“Not at all, Lord Gryffindor!” She smiled again, then said: “I have things to attend to, so I must be off. Please enjoy your visit, Lord Gryffindor, Lady Gryffindor.”

The princes assumed a stance of ‘relaxed attention’, and both Harry and Hermione bowed to the monarch, as she departed.

The silence grew a bit strained, before William spoke.

“Are you?”

Harry blushed and Hermione grinned. “No, your highness, I am not. However, in time, I will be.”

“How did this happen?”

“Do you want the short version or the long?”

Both princes chimed “Long!” as well as the Weasley twins ever had. Both Harry and Hermione laughed again.

Prince William offered them seats and when they had taken them, Harry launched into his tale.

By the end of it, the princes were amazed, amused, and at the actions of both the Dursleys, and Dumbledore, absolutely disgusted.

None of them knew the queen’s staff, who’d keen keeping an eye on the two Jedi, had taped the conversation for further investigation.

“So, what happened to the Dursleys?”

“Well, there’s a story in itself.” Harry replied. “Basically I set them up. I arranged for Vernon’s crimes to be brought to the attention of the courts and when they were, I intervened. I fixed it so Vernon lost pretty much everything. I spoke to his employer Joshuah Grunning, and ‘suggested’ he be demoted to the very bottom. Joshuah wanted to see him hanged, but eventually, he agreed. He has to work there until I allow him to leave. He makes just enough money to pay the rent…to me, I might add, utilities and food, but more importantly, I let the neighbors they so wanted to upstage, know exactly what kind of monsters they were. For social ‘one-uppers’ like the Dursleys, that was the worst sort of punishment imaginable. They can’t go anywhere to show off, and every time they step outside the house, they are reminded just how much the neighbors truly despise them. That didn’t do much good for Vernon’s blood pressure. I can tell you that.”

They laughed and joked for another hour more before Prince William invited them to go riding around the estate. Harry had never sat a horse before, but thought it couldn’t be too much different than riding a broomstick.

How wrong he was.

Hermione, who had ridden horses, smiled at his naiveté. The Princes William and Harry also snickered evilly.

Hours later, he winced as he sat. His thighs ached and his arse hurt!

****

Ron’s funeral was held in the small cemetery near the Burrow. All the Jedi students were gathered to bid their comrade farewell. Next to them a group of men and women stood, dressed in the most ghastly orange possible, honoring the fallen hero who’d so loved their team.

Rita Skeeter stood at the forefront of a phalanx of reporters from Britain and Western Europe.

To one side, the Weasley family stood together. Molly had her arms wrapped around Luna, in a loving embrace, with Xeno standing close by. She’d been incensed that Ron had gotten Luna pregnant, and more so that Arthur had given his blessing without consulting her. That night, they discussed it at length, but the head of house Weasley had stood firm. He told her that had had he informed her, she would have marched straight to the castle, wards or no, and snatched her son up by the ear. He told her: Molly, if you must blame anybody, blame me. I gave them my blessing. It’s my responsibility.”

“And Xeno? What about Xeno? His daughter is pregnant and married without his knowledge!”

“Luna told me she’d already written him…several times, in fact, and let him know exactly what she intended. If you want, we can go over and see him tomorrow, but he already knows.”


Molly wasn’t happy her son had done what he had, but she adored Luna. Selene had asked her to keep an eye out for Luna not a month before she’d died, and while they were grieving, she’d done what she could to provide at least a hot supper for them. Now the shoe was on the other foot, and while it wouldn’t bring back her youngest son, he would live on, in their child.

As Arthur drifted into sleep, she resolved to love and cherish both her new daughter in law and their baby, and with that pledge, she also slept, a warm smile on her lips.


Bill and his fiancé, Fleur Delacour, had been given the time off by Graswold himself, to attend this ceremony. A combined appeal by Harry and Amelia Bones ensured Charlie had also been given the time to see his family. A much abashed Percy stood there, not quite knowing what to do, but understanding that his slavish devotion to a Ministry of Magic, that had grown horribly corrupt, had shown him to be the worst kind of idiot possible. His associations with first Crouch, then Fudge and Scrimgeour, had ensured he would never see his long-dreamed-of ascension to the Minister’s office. He’d been absolutely shocked when Madam Bones herself had assured him that as he was capable administrator, he would have a place at the ministry…provided he offered a sincere apology to his family for, as she said, ‘being an unmitigated arse’.


Earlier that morning when Percy had arrived with the ministry component, he’d approached his parents, knelt at their feet, and quite sincerely apologized to them for being stupid. Arthur and Molly were accepting and understanding.


Fred, George and Ginny were anything but. They had taken him aside and demonstrated the capabilities of both lightsaber and Jedi, and now stood around Percy to ensure he kept his tongue in his mouth…just in case.


Harry had this to say:

“Ron was my first friend. He laughed, loved and lived for the moment. He was often lazy, greedy, jealous, temper prone, and had an inferiority complex so huge you could drive a lorry across it, but he was also loving, boisterous and vibrant. He was the very first friend of my age that I ever had. I’m going to miss that friend. I’m going to miss the way he’d laugh, the way he’d complain about the homework and the teachers. The way he’d obsess about Quidditch, the way he’d avoid his essays until the last second, the way he’d…well, I’m certainly not going to miss being trounced at chess, but I am going to miss my friend.”

He allowed himself to breath for a moment before he went on.

“His actions on the solstice saved my life, at a moment when death was all around us. For that, I recommended his being awarded the Order of Merlin, first class. That award has been approved and another award has been granted for the same action. In order of precedence, I now introduce, Her Royal Majesty, Elizabeth the Second, by the Grace of God, of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and of Her other Realms and Territories, Queen, Head of the Commonwealth, Defender of the Faith. Your Majesty, I am your humble servant.”

Harry knelt on one knee as the monarch walked up the path toward him.

“Thank you, Lord Potter. You may rise.”

Harry stood and took his place to her left.


Turning to the gathered wizards, the Queen spoke.

“We are most pleased to be here, to honor one who on the morning of twenty second June, gave his all…to eliminate a terrorist so vile, his name is spoken of in whispers. For the heroic sacrifice of his own life, in the face of the enemy, to protect his commanding officer from certain death, we hereby award Ronald Bilius Weasley, the Victoria Cross, unfortunately, posthumously. His name will be written in the annals of this country as a true hero.

Molly Weasley, Arthur Weasley, will you accept this award on your son’s behalf?”

A tearful Molly nodded, and both stepped forward, bringing Luna with them. Arthur bowed and Molly curtseyed as best she could. Queen Elizabeth smiled thinly at the tribute. It seemed here in the wizarding world, she was rather well thought of.

“Your Majesty, I know it is not regular, but this…” She directed the queens’ attention to the brown-robed blond. “…is Luna. She and Ron married only weeks ago. By rights this medal should go to her.”

Before the queen could reply, Luna shook her head. “Mother Weasley, my part will not go unremarked. Traditionally the award for the fallen is given to the mother. I insist.”

Luna stepped back a pace, her eyes glittering.

“Lord Gryffindor has made us aware of their marriage. Mrs. Luna Weasley will be receiving her own award, in a few weeks time.”

The queen pinned the medal to Molly’s jacket, then turned to the audience once more.

“One of the primary causes of the rise of the past four dark lords has been the International Statute of Secrecy. That will no longer hold true. We have spoken to both magical and mundane leadership, and with a few objections, that leadership has decided to relax the statute, so another rise will be impossible to ignore. With the relaxing of that statute, Ronald Weasley’s name and actions will be known throughout this country, and soon, we hope, throughout the world as well.”

Harry waited until the Queen had returned to his side, before announcing: “Ladies and Gentlemen, Amelia Bones…Minister of Magic.”


Amelia stepped up, bowed to her liege, and receiving a nod from the Queen, turned to the lectern and spoke.

“As Minister of Magic for Great Britain, and with the agreement of the Wizengamot, I am most proud to present the Order of Merlin, first class, to Ronald Bilius Weasley for heroism far above and beyond. In that, on the morning of twenty second June, he did knowingly place himself between his commanding officer, and three deadly curses. With the skills he had developed over the previous year, he managed to deflect two of those curses, but hidden behind the others, the third found its mark. No one can bring back the dead, but we - will - not - forget. Ronald Weasley will be remembered from this day forward, as a national hero to the wizarding community of Great Britain.”


She hung the medal around the weeping Molly Weasley’s neck. Arthur stood there, beside his wife…pride in his son’s actions, warring with the pain of his loss.


“Hermione?” Harry turned to his wife. “You’re better at this than I am. Would you mind?” He gestured to the headstone.

“Of course.” Hermione pointed her wand at the marker and silently incanted a spell.

The stone shifted, and within seconds, the plain marble sported large images of the two medals, side by side, under Ron’s name.

As the coffin was lowered into the ground, a lone bagpiper on the hill began to play.


Approaching slowly from the east, seven orange clad flyers, approached. As they passed over the grave, the keeper pulled his broomstick up and vanished into the sky.


Rita Skeeter later said it was the most touching tribute she’d ever seen

****

The next morning, Harry appeared in the minister’s office. Instantly, Amelia smiled her greeting.

“Hello, Harry.”

“Hello, Amelia.” He grinned back, and suddenly Amelia was nervous. “I understand you’ve been having some difficulty finding a place for the orphanage.”

“Mmm. Yes. We need a place large enough for a hundred or more orphans, but we’ve not been able to find one.

“Well, seeing as I made that deal with the goblins…” Harry assumed a particularly theatrical poise and said: “By right of conquest, I am now the largest magical landowner in Britain, and I just happen to have a nice place all set up…in Wiltshire.”

Immediately Amelia broke into uproarious laughter. Kingsley was puzzled and Tonks was giggling madly while turning all sorts of interesting colors.

“I don’t understand…” Shack began. “The only place in Wiltshire is…Oh!”

“Malfoy Manor.” Harry agreed with a grin. “Imagine how the Malfoys would feel to know their manor is being used to care for orphans…regardless their blood purity.”

And so, with a stoke of a pen, the magnificent home of the most bigoted of the blood purists in Britain, was given to the ministry for use as an orphanage, for the youngest victims of Voldemort’s reign. Most were half-bloods and first-gen, but there was a sprinkling of purebloods in the mix.

Within weeks the place had been minutely examined for any traces of dark artifacts and the like and those found had been removed and destroyed. The manor was cleaned top to bottom by a horde of house-elves, and within a month, Harry watched as his beautiful wife cut a ribbon across the door, opening the first magical orphanage in Britain.

****

On the fifteenth of July, Amelia Bones and her new Deputy Minister, Constance Hammer, stood on the dais in front of the new memorial. The offensive and bigoted ‘Fountain of Magical Brethren’ had been removed and smelted down for the metal, which was recast into a large tapering golden cylinder, some twenty feet tall. On that column were engraved the names of every single person who’d died as a result of the two dark lords, including the many thousands of muggles, house elves, and members of other species who’d suffered. The cylinder rotated slowly and the names scrolled down to be replaced at the top, so no name had precedence over any other. Water washed down the cylinder from conjuring runes at the top, to collect in a pool below. As before, any donations left in the pool, would benefit St. Mungo’s…only this time, they would actually reach the hospital.

Aurors, from all four involved countries stood in ranks. Families of the awardees, all the Potter house-elves, and even the goblins were represented. Dak Graswold himself stood there with a token guard of fourty of his best. As before, the press was present, including several dozen reporters from the international agencies that had been banned in Britain during Dumbledore’s reign.

As soon as the audience had gathered, Bones nodded. Harry called his Jedi to attention and marched them in two files from the small waiting area, down the red carpet. On his command, the first twenty-six Jedi turned to the left and positioned themselves with military regularity on the left side of the carpet, and the remaining thirty-five across from them. All were wearing brown robes over their tan tunics and trews. Each carried their lightsaber on their belt.


Bones began speaking.

“Lades and gentlemen, the Order of Merlin is the magical world’s highest award. It is given only to those who have distinguished themselves in such an exemplary manner as to be called ‘true heroes’, and is usually given posthumously. I issued three such posthumous awards in June to Aurors Mitchell Gant, Claude Nejberger, and Jackson Ryan, who lost their lives on eleventh June, during the capture of a Death Eater who had infiltrated the ministry, and another four, only weeks ago, to Ronald Weasley, Aurors Sean Christopher, and Michael Bleaksley, and French Gendarme supérieur, Eduard Guillaume, for the sacrifice of their lives during the battle of twenty second June, which freed us from tyranny.

Now, it is time to award the other young people who willingly set aside their own lives, for an entire year, in order to train, fight, and eventually defeat, the monster we know as Voldemort.”

Surprisingly, there were only a few shudders at the vile terrorist’s name.

“There are two classes of the Order of Merlin that I will be issuing tonight…first class and second. Twenty six of the people standing here will be awarded the Order of Merlin first class, and thirty five, the Order’s second class…not because of any lack of dedication or heroism but because only half of them actually fought against the Death Eaters. In point of fact those who did not, refused the Order’s first class. They claimed it would lessen the relevance of the medal given to their comrades. I disagreed most strenuously, but they stood firm.

Tonight, I will begin with the Order of Merlin, second class. The following people in alphabetical order: Stewart Ackerly, Katherine Bell, Charlotte Bestler, Amanda Brocklehurst, Lavender Brown, Malcolm Cadwaller, Dora Carey, Owen Cauldwell, Stephen Cornfoot, Colin Creevy, Dennis Creevy, Emma Dobbs, James Farrington, Seamus Finnegan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Astoria Greengrass, Dwight Hindley, Darlene Hyatt, Angelina Johnson, Lee Jordan, Laura Madley, Natalie McDonald, Kenneth McMichael, Sara Moon, Paul Neller, Liam O’Lorcain, James Peakes, Graham Prichard, Alicia Spinnet, Roan Stewart, Michael Swanson, Dean Thomas, Lisa Turpin, Romilda Vane and Kevin Whitby, for your unswerving dedication to duty, and great personal sacrifice over the course of the past year, wherein you left your homes, schooling and personal lives to begin training in such a grueling manner that my senior Aurors balked, in order to prepare to fight and destroy not only Voldemort, but all his marked followers, I take the greatest of pleasure in awarding each of you the Order of Merlin, second class.

She and Connie walked slowly down the red carpet stopping to speak with each of the new order winners, hanging the medals from the tray Connie carried, around their necks and thanking them for their service. A half hour later, she returned to the podium.

“The following people: Harrison James Potter, Lord Gryffindor, Hermione Jane Potter, Lady Gryffindor, Neville Franklin, Longbottom, Lord Longbottom, Former Captain of the Special Air Service; Doctor Mackenzie Granger, Remus Lupin, Auror Nymphadora Tonks, and in alphabetical order, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Terry Boot, Derek Chambers, Kevin Entwhistle, Anthony Goldstein, Daphne Greengrass, Terrence Higgs, Wayne Hopkins, Megan Jones, Morag McDougal, Anika and Anna Montgomery, Padma and Parvati Patil, Sally-Ann Perks, Adrian Pucey, Orla Quirke, Su Li, Fred, George and Ginevra Weasley, Luna Weasley, nee Lovegood, Oliver Wood, and for the first time in history, a non-human recipient, Dobby the house-elf.

“I am most proud to present each of you with the Order of Merlin, first class, for conspicuous bravery in the face of the enemy, and self-sacrifice far above and beyond the call. On twenty second June this year, you did each voluntarily place yourselves amidst more than three hundred Death Eaters. While Lord Potter did offer quarter, his offer was answered with the killing curse. In the ensuing battle, you did kill every single Death Eater present. These terrorists have held us in thrall for far too long, and at hideous risk to your own lives, you have rid Britain of the scourge of Voldemort and his minions…permanently.

Your actions have saved us all. Voldemort’s stated goal was to slaughter all first-generation witches and wizards, and quite likely all halfbloods as well, and either slaughter or enslave every mundane in the world. It is now known that he held his pureblood sycophants in utter contempt and a life under his rule would be the worst sort of tyranny imaginable!”

Amelia turned directly to the press and said: “My senior-most Aurors and I were present for the last of this operation and can tell you all, that at no time did the Jedi students overreach their authority, at no time did they practice barbarity of any sort. They were efficient and disciplined as any Auror or hit-wizard. Lord Gryffindor offered the Death Eaters the chance to surrender and they refused, and so they were destroyed. I want it made perfectly clear to all; one cannot take the mark under Imperius, as it requires a willing use of all three unforgivables, before witnesses, and must meet with the approval of Voldemort or, we believe, his senior lieutenants, before the mark is granted. Each of these terrorists, were torturers, rapists, murderers and worse, and as such, they each carried a death sentence.”

She turned to face the Jedi, and added: “We, the wizarding community of Great Britain, are indebted to you all, for our very lives.”


When she reached Susan, she found the girl weeping. “Suse. I’m so proud of you.”

“I can’t do this Auntie. Not anymore. I know it had to be done, I really do, that’s why I volunteered, but I feel awful! I killed people and I…I’m…I’m going to tell Harry I’m not going to continue with the training.”

“Susan, I’d like you to know, Harry is more than aware of your feelings. We had a little chat and he told me that the Jedi arts are more than just lightsabers and combat. He hated that he had to put you all through that, without the years of proper training and mental preparation you’d normally get. Masterhealer Mentasus told me your feelings are proof that you are as mentally healthy as she is, and she wants to help you get through this pain. There are several other students who are feeling the same as you are, and she is willing to see each of you alone or in a group for as long as you need. Harry said he would cover any costs.”

“Really?”

“Really. He understands your desire to become a potion’s mistress and he will support that, but he wants you to know you are always welcome at the academy. Even Jedi need potion’s mistresses, you know.” She smiled gently as she hung the Order of Merlin around her niece’s neck, then dried her tears with a handkerchief. Susan smiled back, gratefully.


When she had made her way up the line, draping the last three medals around Dobby’s neck, then Hermione’s, and last, Harry’s.

She addressed the crowd again. “I want you to know, this is actually Harry Potter’s second order of Merlin. The first being granted in November of eighty one. That award was hidden from Harry, by Albus Dumbledore, for reasons known only to himself. We are still looking for the medal in Dumbledore’s personal effects, and when we find it, it will be appropriately presented.

For now, I present to you the awardees of the Orders of Merlin, first and second class.”

The applause was overwhelming. In the nearby Royal Academy of Science, frantic seismologists were scurrying about, checking and double-checking the tremor they’d recorded.


“Before we adjourn, I have one more award to present. This is for an action that took place last December. Mister Dudley Dursley would you please join us?

Blushing madly, Dudley walked down the red carpet his arm twined with Marissa’s. Behind him were Petunia and Adam and Laurel Gentry. Vernon refused to involve himself with freaks…even for this!


“Dudley Malcolm Dursley, as Minister of Magic, under the auspices of Her Majesty the Queen, and with the full agreement of the Wizengamot, I am most proud to formally present you with the Order of Merlin, first class, for conspicuous bravery in the face of the enemy, and self-sacrifice far above and beyond the call. On twenty first December of last year, when surrounded by Death Eaters, you fought and killed five of them with your bare hands. Your actions that night, saved the lives of nearly eight hundred people and eliminated five extremely dangerous terrorists. By keeping the Death Eaters occupied for those vital moments, you also provided time for the Ministry of Magic’s, Rapid Response Aurors to arrive, which resulted in another six dead terrorists. We, the wizarding community of Great Britain, are indebted to you, sir.”

Turning once more to the audience, she added: “Dudley Dursley and Mackenzie Granger are only the third and fourth times in the past thousand years this award has been given to a non-magical recipient. Mister Dursley knew he stood a better than even chance of being killed, and if he survived, being Obliviated and forgotten, but he faced the Death Eaters, regardless. I think this should point out that the mundane population are not as useless as the previous administrations have made them out to be. Mister Granger stood with those he trained, having no magic at all and faced the Death Eaters as ruthlessly and efficiently as any magical warrior.

Dobby the house-elf is the only non-human recipient of this award in history. He knew Voldemort’s troops considered him less than nothing and would slaughter him without a qualm and still, he faced them in combat…and emerged victorious. Though there were laws regarding the killing of humans by non-humans, those laws are being carefully examined by my staff for the reasons behind them. Any laws so passed for reasons of bigotry or revenge, such as all those laws pushed through by former undersecretary Delores Umbridge, will be overturned. Those with solid grounding will be examined for reasonableness and proper penalties. In any case, Dobby will face no censure for killing Death Eaters. I hope I am clearly understood.”

Once more thunderous applause filled the atrium and once mode, seismologists in London were in a panic.

Poor Dobby nearly burnt out his blush-bulb. The smug grin on Winky’s face told Harry she had something special planned for Dobby on their return to the castle.



Amelia smiled evilly at Harry and asked him to join her on the stage. Sighing at the necessity, he ascended the steps to the lectern. There, he faced the throng.

“I would like to say, this victory is not mine, or the Jedi’s. We could not have defeated Voldemort and his Death Eaters were it not for the capable assistance of the Goblins, who saw to it the Death Eaters had no access to their gold. The Ministry and the Wizengamot for their dedication to examining old, prejudiced laws, and changing or eliminating them, for rooting out undercover agents and unmarked sympathizers, and for prosecuting those who had been taking bribes from, or were otherwise supporting Voldemort and his troops.

The ministries of France, Italy and Spain, for their loan of more than a hundred Aurors, one of whom, Gendarme supérieur, Eduard Guillaume, gave his life, in his defense of our country.

The parents who both allowed their sons and daughters to join me to train for the past year, and in many cases allowed their memories of their own children to be removed in case those children never came home.

The house elves, so often looked down upon in this society, were essential, and much appreciated, as they provided a stable environment for us. They ensured we had food, clothing, necessary services, and yes, even our weapons. They made us comfortable while we studied, so we could focus our entire attention on the goal of eliminating Voldemort. Without them, we might not have been ready.

The contribution of the press, in the person of Rita Skeeter, was invaluable in keeping both dark lords off balance, while we trained. For her services, I’d recommend the Order of Merlin, but that will be up to the Ministry.”

In the audience, Rita could hardly breathe. ~An Order of Merlin?~

Around her, the correspondents were similarly amazed, and though many didn’t like her, each quietly offered their congratulations. Even a nomination was a huge benefit to a reporter!


Seemingly unaware Harry continued. “Even the mundanes did their part. Last July, I asked Her Majesty to keep her people out of this, in order to prevent a war between the magical and the mundane, and for the most part, she did. The only time they were directly involved, was in the attack on Gilbert’s Hill Wood, which is an SAS training base…and why he chose to attack such a base is still a mystery.

The point I’m trying to make is that without us all, without the contributions of each and every one of us, we would have failed. This is as much your victory as ours, and for that, I thank you.”

Again, the noise echoed throughout the atrium.


Amelia whispered: “I’m glad you’re not running for office!”

She was both amused and frightened by his response. Amused when he said: “I despise politics!” and frightened when he smirked and added: “Still…”

****

For the most part, the ensuing trials were swift and painless. There were, however, exceptions…

****

Delores Umbridge, fought, snarled and spat as she was dragged into the courtroom. It took four Aurors to force her across the floor and into the wooden chair where the magical chains immediately snaked tightly around her arms and legs.


Without Dumbledore to interfere, Umbridge was questioned under Veritaserum and quickly found guilty of attempted murder, in her sending dementors to kill Harry, but not of the attempt on Dudley, as she had no idea he would be present, although she was found guilty of endangering the entire population of Little Whinging by sending them into a mundane community in the first place. She was also found guilty of possession of eleven dark arts artifacts; a Mayan sacrifice blade…well used; the heart of a human child; a cursed mask designed to induce nightmares of the lethal kind into the wearer; a phial of basilisk venom; six blood quills; and a pair of really tight, high-heeled shoes that had no purpose other than to torture the person wearing them.


She was found guilty of her use of the blood quills on students, namely, Nigel Fairborne: Three counts. Lee Jordan: Nine counts. Dean Thomas: Nine counts. Fred Weasley: Twelve counts, George Weasley: Twelve counts. Harry Potter: Eighty-five counts. Use of a ministry controlled substance on a student, and the attempt to cast an unforgivable, specifically the Cruciatus curse, on a student. She was found not guilty of attempting to poison Harry, since, despite Snape’s instructions; she really had no idea how to use the Veritaserum, and she was firmly of the opinion that ‘more is better’.

*****

Since the Dementors had been returned to the force, through Harry’s negotiations, with their departure, Azkaban had become little more than a pile of crumbling stones on an isolated island, surrounded by lethal wards and fifty miles of icy ocean. Still, as a place of incarceration, it would suffice. Umbridge was sentenced there for fifty years for the attempted murder, fifty years for endangering the mundane community, five years for each of the blood quills and the other dark artifacts she had in her possession, one year for each count of using the blood quill, three for the unauthorized use of the Veritaserum, and ten for her unsuccessful attempt at casting the unforgivable.

She lived for three more years.

****

Severus Snape claimed Imperius, and demanded Harry be arrested and tried for maiming him…to no avail, as Amelia Bones, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Nymphadora Tonks and Hestia Jones, were all witness to the event. After the previous questioning, he was again isolated for thirty days, being fed only plain fare and water. He was thoroughly tested for any antidotes to Veritaserum. When none were found, he was once again given the maximum safe dosage for any twenty-four-hour period and once again, plied with questions until he had been squeezed dry. His testimony, as it were, confirmed his previous responses under the drug and not coincidentally, helped to convict the few unmarked supporters that remained.


Pensieve memories of the twisted and agonized bodies of the children he’d ‘experimented’ on, were introduced as evidence, and from that point on, he was a dead man walking. Fully half the Wizengamot wanted to haul his arse down to the Department of Mysteries and chuck him through the veil on the spot!

It was, in fact, Harry who prevented that. “What use to simply kill him?” He asked. “He’d be dead, but for him that would be it. Since I cannot attest to an afterlife, no one could know if he actually ever paid for his crimes. Far better to keep him alive and in prison, so he can suffer the way he’s caused other’s to suffer. With no arms, he’ll be dependant upon those around him for everything. Azkaban would be the worst sort of punishment for him. No longer the master of his domain, he’d be just another prisoner. There, he’ll be faced with the consequences of his crimes for the rest of his life.”


Snape was…grudgingly…sentenced to Azkaban for the remainder of his life. Harry asked Amelia to make sure he was placed in Sirius’ old cell.


When he discovered the name of the previous occupant, Snape threw a tantrum to end all tantrums! He ranted and raged at the unfairness of the universe, the stupidity of the ministry, the ineptitude of the Wizengamot, the disloyalty of his mentor, who still had not shown himself, the capricity of nature itself, but most of all, he railed against the miserable, insufferable, arrogant, intolerable, conceited, unendurable, egotistical, unspeakable and entirely unworthy spawn of James - Bloody - POTTER!


To facilitate his being able to do…anything, he was fitted with a prosthetic arm, which functioned for only one hour at a time, three times a day. Other than that it was merely a dead weight on his shoulder. He was also given a specially charmed collar to preclude the possibility of suicide.

After a nearly fatal ‘accident’ on his first day in prison, a special ward was erected and anchored to him, to prevent any of the other prisoners from taking their frustrations out on him.


He lived for thirty-nine years, before finally succumbing to a lung infection. He hated every single day with every fiber of his blackened heart.

*****

In late July, after having given Remus a second dose of her ‘improved’ Wolfsbane potion, Hermione had an interesting thought. She sought out her husband and asked him if it would be possible to use the nanite technology to first purge the silver poisoning from his blood and second to eliminate the lycanthropy curse entirely.


Harry looked at her like she’d grown a second set of eyes; then began to beat his head against the desk.

Hermione burst out laughing and grabbed her husband before he could do too much damage.


That evening they stole down to the sealed room and let themselves in. Tonks was there giggling over Remus’ playful antics. This time, she had a camera in her hand, waiting for the perfect shot. Twins or no twins, she was not going to let this opportunity go by without ‘something’ to remember it by!

As Remus chased his tail, they spoke to Tonks and let her know what they had in mind. She immediately turned hopeful eyes to her boss and said: “D’you really think this can work?”

“I can only guess. I did manage to take Dumbledore’s magic, and this can’t be too different, although I suspect we’re gonna need blood samples from several different points in his transformation…and he’s going to have to do at least two without the Wolfsbane.”

“What!?! Why!?!” Tonks blurted, causing Remus to advance on the cage and snarl at the people threatening his friend.

“Moony! Sit!” Harry ordered. Remus flumped to the floor and he stared at his alpha.

“Remus.” Harry spoke directly to the werewolf. “Can you understand me?”

Moony bobbed his head twice.

“Was that two times, or a lucky fluke?”

“Remus.” Hermione called: “Stand up, turn to your left in a complete circle, and sit down again facing the wall.”

Moony did so.

“Obviously he can.”

Harry decided to be funny. “Remus, turn thirty five times anticlockwise and lick your stones.”

Moony stood turned to face away and lifted his tail. Turning again, he sat with a wolfy grin. Hermione snickered and Tonks howled.

“Ookaaayyy!” Harry chuckled. “Remus, Hermione’s come up with a great idea. We think we can use the nanite technology to clean the silver from your blood, and later, to maybe take away your curse.

If a werewolf could be said to be shocked, Moony was definitely that.

“We’re going to need some blood samples though. I’d like to take a sample now with you transformed and under the influence of Wolfsbane to document the transformation in all its variables. Is that ok?”

Suddenly Moony was nodding as fast as Dobby.

Harry laughed.

He called for Dobby who immediately began to berate him for taking the chance of being bitten. When he’d calmed the elf enough, he explained what he needed. Dobby popped away and retinue with a box of the same vacuum tubes he’d used to get Dumbledore’s blood.

“Thanks, Dobby. Now, how do we do this?”

“Well…” Tonks said. “I suppose I could grab him around the neck and hold him against the bars and you could do it that way?”

“No. I won’t risk your being bitten.”

“I could wear Dragon hide gloves. He wouldn’t be able to get through those.”

“Ummm…I don’t know…Remus?” For Moony was shaking his head vehemently.

“Remus, we need the blood.” Moony again shook his head. Then assumed a point position with his nose directed toward Dobby.

“Of course!” Hermione gasped. “Dobby isn’t affected by lycanthropy!”

“Really?”

“No. His blood is all different. He could be bitten, but never get the disease.

“Still he could be torn to shreds.”

For some reason Moony looked insulted. Tonks giggled.

“OK. Sorry, mate.” Harry apologized.

“So, Dobby, can you…Damn it Dobby! Would you at least wait until I’ve made my impassioned plea?” For Dobby was already in the steel enclosure. He grinned bashfully as Hermione laughed and Tonks brayed.

Moony lay down and extended an arm. Dobby snapped his fingers, then grimaced at the overkill, as Moony’s foreleg was bare of fur. His eyes were closed so he didn’t notice but Dobby wisely decided to get the hell out of Dodge the second the blood was drawn.

It went as quickly as it had with Dumbledore. Dobby compressed Moony’s limb and waited until the veins were showing, then carefully he poked the needle through Remus skin. The werewolf yelped and twitched. Fascinated, Tonks tried to soothe her lover, whispering words of love and devotion, and soon enough, it was done. Dobby healed the slight wound with a snap and popped out of the cage before Remus rose to his feet.

That’s when he noticed the relative coolness around his foreleg. Looking down, he examined his arm and then snarled at Dobby.

“Remus…” Harry chuckled. “If that’s the worst you have to deal with, you’re doing OK.”

Moony lowered his head and whinged.

“Awww! Poor Ickle Woofums” Tonks chortled.

Deciding discretion was the better part of valour, Harry said: “Erm…we’ll just be going now. Bye!” and he ushered Hermione and Dobby from the room.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
A/N:
The misquote is a combination of two, made by William Tecumseh Sherman

“If the people raise a great howl against my barbarity and cruelty, I will answer that war is war, and not popularity seeking.”

And

“War is cruelty. There is no use trying to reform it. The crueler it is, the sooner it will be over.”

Harry’s statement about WWII is true. The Allied general staffs expected the war to last at least two more years, and it was only Hitler’s suicide in April of ’45, and Germany’s capitulation eight days later that ended the war in Europe.

Riding a horse is a pain…literally. To properly sit a horse, one does not ‘sit’ on the horse at all. Instead, one must use the thighs to clamp around the horse’s barrel. It is exhausting and for those who’ve never ridden before, painful, as the thigh muscles are cramped and often friction burned.

The tribute for Ron is of course, the US Air Force’s ‘missing man’ formation…the most touching tribute for the fallen that I have ever seen. It’s interesting to note that the Air Force is the only US armed service that will offer such a tribute for enlisted men. The other branches only hold funereal services for officers.

Mitchell Gant, is the lead character in ‘Firefox’, by Craig Thomas, Claude Nejberger, was a buddy of mine in the crash and salvage crew on USS America, and Jackson Ryan is a character from another of my novels.

I reread Robst’s ‘Can’t have it both ways’ and discovered that was where I got Susan’s reactions from. She was willing to cross wands with her aunt, Amelia, knowing she’d lose, and lose badly, in order to see the right thing done. Apparently that stuck with me, because I stole it. Thanks Robert.