FicWad

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters, ideas, and situations created by JK Rowling and owned by her and her publishers. I own the original elements & characters. No money is being made by me, and no trademark or copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter III

Fenrir Greyback moved cautiously down a back street in the slums of Liverpool. Something was not right.

Greyback looked down a dark alley, but saw and smelled nothing wrong. As soon as he moved just past it, he was Petrified and pulled into the alley.

"Hello," a voice said. "If you don't know me, my name is Harry Potter." The slight young man stepped out of the shadows. A wave of Harry's wand and Greyback was stripped naked. "Let's take a trip, shall we?"

In a few seconds, they appeared near a quiet river pool in a very hot and humid jungle. "You are a predator, or at least like to pretend you are. Let's see how you fare against the real thing."

Harry took a leaf and transfigured it into a small sharp knife. He made a large number of small cuts on Greyback and then levitated him over the pool. Harry let the blood drip into the water for a minute, and then dropped Greyback into the water.

That broke the spell, and Greyback surfaced, sputtering and cursing. He started to swim towards Harry.

Greyback didn't notice the first little sharp pain. Or the second. Or the third.

Then they started coming closer together.

Greyback started flailing and then he started screaming, while the hundreds of hungry piranha that Harry had summoned tore into his flesh. The feeding frenzy attracted dozens more.

It would take a bit of time to strip Greyback down to his bones, but he was dead in less than seven minutes after Harry had dropped him into the river.

After the first ten minutes, Harry nodded and disappeared.

++++++++++++

Antonin Dolohov was trudging back towards the cavern in the Alps where the Dark Lord had established his current headquarters. He had had to sneak into the village some six miles away (nearly all down hill), steal a large quantity of food, and do a series of memory charms in order to get away with it. Now he was heading back.

He never saw the purple hex that sliced him in half.

Harry, still invisible, slipped though the wards.

He quickly found Bellatrix, setting up a torture chamber. 'Figures,' Harry thought. He Petrified her and went into what passed for her mind. He quickly connected all her worst memories of pain and made them into a recurring circuit -- she would feel each memory as if it were happening all over again, and would feel them to the point where it would fry all higher brain functions.

In less than four hours, she should be more a shell than the Longbottoms.

The screams brought Voldemort to investigate.

He never felt the first hex that hit him, let alone the seventy-one which followed.

++++++++++++

Voldemort awoke to . . . nothingness.

He felt nothing. Saw nothing. Heard nothing, not even his heartbeat. He wasn't breathing, and so smelled nothing. He had no sensation of his body.

Suddenly, something new entered his senses. He felt/heard/saw a message:

Tom:
The Prophecy required me to 'vanquish' you, so I decided to give you a form of near-immortality. Your body is dead. Your magic is gone. All that is left is your mind and your memories, and that ragged fragment of your soul that remained attached to your mind.

I have placed all that inside a book, not totally unlike in concept your first Horcrux. I have made certain that it is a large, well-made, and good-looking tome, as I know your ego would demand it. As you supposedly cursed the Defense position until you could hold the position, congratulations, you are now a co-professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts (or you will be, when I talk to Professor McGonagall.

Every single written assignment will be magically entered into the book's memory where they will create what the Muggles call a data base. The magic in the book will force you to grade the grammar of each paper. Criteria for that grading may be added by the regular Defense professor. Your corrections will be made in a lovely shade of Slytherin green ink, and will count at least 1% of the paper's grade. The other professor may make it more, if the holder thinks you're doing a decent job.

While both the Defense professor and the Headmistress (and I) may all write to you, you may only write back to a headmistress and myself, and then only when we request it. If the magic holding you in the book is dispersed, then you go with it. There is no escape, except for death.

As best I can figure, this book should hold at least 100,000 years with of essays. I don't think the charms on it will start to give way for at least 250,000 years, unless someone tries to tamper with it.

Have a lovely existence.
Harry

PS The destruction of your magic destroyed the link with my scar. Isn't that wonderful?

Mentally, Voldemort screamed in anger for some time.

But there was no sound.

++++++++++++

Augusta Longbottom cautiously went to the door. No one, except a few family members, should have been able to approach Longbottom Grange, and they would hardly have rung the bell.

She paused and frowned, remembering that they didn't have a bell in any case.

She gripped her wand more firmly and bravely finished opening the door.

"Hi, Mrs. Longbottom. May I speak with Neville for a moment?"

Mrs. Longbottom blinked. Once.

"Mrs. Longbottom?"

"P-p-potter?" Considering the news reports, he shouldn't be here.

"Yes, Ma'am?"

Neville, who had crept around the side of the manor house, came up behind Harry. "Hi, Neville," Harry said without turning.

"Tell me something only Harry should now," Neville demanded.

Harry thought and said, "I can't think of something only I would know that you would, but how about something only your dorm mates would know? Like how you had a series of dreams, vivid and loud dreams, in September, 1995, about Mrs. . . ."

"Stop! You're Harry," Neville protested.

Harry turned around, but before he could say anything, Neville broke in. "Are you hurt? Are you on the run? I'm so sorry to hear about what happened yesterday at the Burrow. Is Ginny all right? Is Hermione all right? Do you need me to come with you." Neville paused for breath.

"I ache a bit, but otherwise, I'm fine." Harry sighed sadly. "Hermione is fine, but unless the report I heard is wrong, Ginny and all the Weasleys except the twins are, well, gone." Neville winced. "Hermione and Luna are sharing a safe haven with me. I thought I would drop by and tell you that I've killed most of the Death Eaters. Snape really was Dumbledore's spy. He killed the Headmaster to prevent the Headmaster being tortured to death. He and Draco are alive but severely cursed. I put an even more severe curse on Bellatrix, and she is destroying herself rather quickly. I locked off the magic of the elder two Malfoys and I portkeyed them to very different Muggle slums without a knut. Oh, and most importantly, I just killed Voldemort."

"Harry, are you feeling all right?" Neville asked.

Harry thought about that, realizing that Neville was the first normal person he had dealt with since the start of the massacre -- Luna, Hermione, and Remus were still traumatized. "I'm feeling as well as a person can after seeing nearly all my friends killed or wounded, being hit by nine AKs which somehow didn't kill me, and then killing nine people and some giants yesterday morning and over twenty more people since then."

"Anyway, I stopped by to tell you the news because I thought you should know, and who knows what the Ministry will actually say about it? Obviously, if I can do all that I did the last two days, I'm a bit too powerful and dangerous to go back to Hogwarts or even try and live in decent society. I'll be going into exile, at least for a while. I need to get my head on straight."

Harry put out his hand, which Neville shook. "You've been a good friend, Nev," Harry said. "Don't let anyone tell you that you aren't a great and powerful wizard."

"Thanks, Harry. Err . . . what did you do to Snape and well, Her?"

"She's reliving every pain curse Voldemort ever inflicted on her," Harry said bluntly. "She should burn herself out in a few more hours."

"Child, that's not right," Mrs. Longbottom said. "Kill her if you must, she deserves it. No one deserves that kind of torture."

Harry considered that for a moment, and then waved his wand. The screaming, writhing Bellatrix appeared before them. "Do you wish to administer mercy?" Harry asked the Longbottoms. "Or should I?"

Neville's jaw set. "No, and I don't want to. Let the bitch die slowly."

Augusta Longbottom cast a spell which put a seal over Bellatrix's mouth and nose. She smothered to death in under two minutes.

As that was happening, Harry said, "As for Draco, he's impotent. Snape will be developing a palsy which will prevent him from ever making potions again." He turned and watched Bellatrix die, and then he destroyed the body and disappeared.

"I'll miss him," Neville said.

His grandmother nodded, but said, "Still, the lad is right. He does need 'to get his head straight'."

++++++++++++

Harry appeared in front of Gringotts, and frowned when he saw it was closed. Harry sighed and changed his location to inside the bank.

Alarms screamed for about three seconds, at which point Harry silenced the noise with a wave. The goblin guards, who had been about to charge him, stopped in confusion. "Hi there," Harry said. Another wave of his hand and Voldemort's dead body appeared. "My name is Harry Potter. I've come to talk business."

An unarmed goblin pushed his way through to the front. "Mister Potter, is this genuine?"

Harry frowned. "Aren't you the goblin who took me to my vault some six years ago? Gripnook, I believe?"

"Griphook."

Harry nodded. "I apologize, Griphook. I've killed Voldemort and most of his Death Eaters. I'll have to show that to the Ministry, but I would be willing to give it to you to display, if you'd like it. I seem to remember that that was an old goblin custom? Or wouldn't you consider Voldemort an enemy of the goblin nation?"

"It is, and we certainly thought of him as such, especially after yesterday." Griphook looked at the head of the goblin guards and then to Harry. "You mentioned business?"

"I did, as in profit."

"The director was most upset to be attacked yesterday. He is out of the bank. Perhaps I could arrange a meeting with an associate director?"

"If he can make some quick decisions, even if it's to turn me down. I need to visit the Ministry soon."

"Wait here, please, Mister Potter."

"Of course," Harry said. He snapped his fingers and Voldemort's body disappeared.

In less than five minutes, Griphook was back with a goblin who was introduced as 'Ringwraith'. Harry smiled at the name.

"Do you desire privacy, Mister Potter?"

"Not particularly," Harry retorted. "If you trust every goblin here, who am I to disagree?"

Ringwraith smirked at the retort and spoke in Gobbledegook. All the guards withdrew from easy listening distance, although Griphook remained, as did the head of the goblin guard. Harry looked at him.

"That is Chainchoke," Ringwraith said.

Harry bowed to them both. "I have killed most of the Death Eaters, either yesterday or today. I did let four go alive, although far from unpunished."

"Who, and how, if I might ask?" Ringwraith asked.

Harry explained what he had done, but not how, which made the three goblins actually laugh, although Hermione might have discribed the sound more as a 'chortle'."

"And what do you propose?"

"I am going to ask the Ministry to fine each family twenty percent of the family wealth for each member of the family identified as a Death Eater. I think the goblins should collect that fine, and be awarded a quarter of everything collected, in order to compensate you for both your trouble and as blood money for being attacked."

"A fifth of all their wealth?"

"Everything in the UK at least," Harry said. "You might wish to stop a certain family from accessing any money from abroad. I'm sure Draco is out of the country by now, if he has a brain in his head."

"And what blood money will you ask?" Ringwraith asked. "And what of the other monies collected?"

"I will ask for none." Harry then explained the rest of his ideas.

The three goblins looked at each other, and then bowed to Harry. "You are an honorable being, Harry Potter," Ringwraith said. "I look forward to seeing what you do next."

"I am too powerful to stay an everyday member of wizarding society," Harry said. "I'll be disappearing, although I will keep an eye on things."

"You are not aware of how extensive the Potter Trust is, Harry Potter. You need a financial advisor if you will not be taking an active part. Two or even three would be better."

"Do you recommend a goblin? And if not, can you recommend some firms?"

"I am one of eight on the Board which oversees the Trust until your birthday in just over a week. Albus Dumbledore was the ninth." Harry almost growled. "There are five goblins. However, the Trust has been very conservative. You will need a more active advisor to make real profit. One goblin could do the job. Two would be better."

"Would Griphook be a good choice?"

"He would be capable of being a junior advisor."

"Are you interested?"

"Yes, Harry Potter," Griphook stated.

"I'll send a house elf to you by my birthday to arrange a meeting, and we'll consider a senior advisor then, if not before."

The three goblins bowed to Harry, who bowed back.

++++++++++++

Rufus Scrimgeour tiredly leaned back in his chair and shut his eyes. He really didn't want to look at his department chiefs and advisors any more. "Doesn't anyone have anything positive to say?"

"Well," came a voice from the back of the room, "I just killed Voldemort and most of his Death Eaters. Would you consider that positive?"

Everyone else in the room jumped, trying to bring their wands to bear on the intruder.

They were all even more surprised when their wands disappeared, only to reappear in Harry Potter's left hand. A wave of his right hand and Voldemort's body was on the floor. "I did promise the goblins they could display it in front of Gringotts, but I thought you'd all want to see it." Harry looked the Minister in the eye. "You and I need to talk. Alone."

Scrimgeour swallowed his first inclination, and merely said, "Potter's right. All of you, out."

Protesting, the group left. Harry tossed the wands onto the Minister's desk.

"What do you want, Potter?"

"A number of things." Harry sat without an invitation. "One, you don't try and take credit. Make what you will out of the fact I'm happy to leave you in charge."

"What do you mean. . . ."

"I killed the most powerful dark lord of the last eight or nine hundred years and about thirty of his followers in less than thirty hours, and walked through your wards like they weren't there. If I thought you were a danger, or a total slimeball like Fudge, including your arresting innocents and allowing sadistic incompetents like Umbitch continue to work for you, do you think I would hesitate to kill you?"

Scrimgeour looked into Potter's eyes. This wasn't the stubborn teen of just a few weeks before. "Perhaps not. What else do you want?"

"Two, a full pardon for everything I've had to do in the last two days."

"What exactly have you done?"

Harry told him.

The Minister believed him. He also believed that Potter, if charged with anything, very likely would destroy the Ministry and build a new one. It was clear to Scrimgeour that Harry just didn't want to bother unless he felt he had to. "Very well. You will really leave?"

"For as long as I can," Harry said with real feeling. "If the Ministry stays as corrupt as it has been, or if some new Dark Lord comes along. . . ." Harry shrugged.

"That bus driver will be out by the end of today," Scrimgeour offered. "Umbridge will be retiring within a week."

Harry nodded. "Good. Three. Get rid of most of the anti-werewolf laws."

"Most?"

"They need to be tracked to be helped, not hurt," Harry insisted. "Come up with something like the vampire regulations."

Werewolves were hardly an obsession with Scrimgeour, as they had been with Umbridge and some of the others around Fudge. "Agreed."

"Four. House elf regulations like the North Americans or Aussies have."

"Agreed."

"I already told you what I told the goblins about fining the Death Eaters," Harry pointed out.

"Where does the other three-quarters go?"

"One quarter to the Ministry's general fund. One quarter for a fund for those too poor to pay for Hogwarts. One quarter to be split amongst the survivors of Voldemort's attacks."

"And no goblin rebellion, or threat of one?"

"No, at least not over what happened yesterday."

"Then agreed. Oh, where did you send the Malfoys, or don't you want us to pick them up?"

"I couldn't care less. Calcutta and Port-au-Prince. I think they'll suffer more if you leave them alone, but that's your call. And don't spare their son or Snape on my account."

"I think they both need to be hauled in, even if Snape gets a suspended sentence, but I'll decide that tomorrow. What else?"

"Five, I can easily make portkeys now. I need a license. I pay the tariff, but I don't need to register them otherwise."

Scrimgeour frowned, but nodded.

"Six, I think everyone at the wedding, at least the survivors, deserve the Order of Merlin, Third Class or better."

"Including?"

"Hermione, and Luna, and Remus. Giving it to Remus will help prove you're going to ease up on the werewolves."

"And you?"

"First Class."

"I can't argue with that," Scrimgeour said, although it was clear he would have liked to.

"Well, give yourself and your surviving flunkies the awards, too. I understand there's a fifteen thousand Galleon award that goes with First Class," Harry said. The Minister nodded. "I just want one Galleon. Split the rest the same as the fine money." He didn't care about the fame that came with the award, of course, any more than he cared about the money. Harry just wanted to make certain the Ministry couldn't claim much of the credit.

"Anything else?"

"Just one more thing. Since I won't be going back to Hogwarts, I think I deserve honorary N.E.W.T.s in Defense, Charms, and Transfiguration."

Scrimgeour laughed at that, and said, "True. So, nothing else?"

"No," Harry said, "and I won't be asking for more later."

That made Scrimgeour sober up. "Very wise, young man."

Harry waved his hand again. Voldemort's body disappeared, this time to go back to Gringotts' lobby. "I will be making some appearances this summer," Harry said. "Just so the people know I'm not dead." Scrimgeour scowled but merely shrugged. "I hope you release a decent version to the press tonight."

Scrimgeour winced, as the threat was more obvious in Potter's voice this time. "I'll get on it," he said.

Harry nodded and disappeared.