A Place of Contemplation

jardyn39

Rating: PG13
Genres: Angst, Suspense
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 20/06/2005
Last Updated: 06/07/2005
Status: completed

Harry has been away from the magical world for a while, having lost his ability to perform magic when he defeated Voldemort. Summoned back, he can hardly believe the changes that have happened. The new Dark Lord’s influence has spread quickly and this time the Order isn’t there to help. Still, perhaps all Harry really needed to get his strength back was one of Mrs Weasley’s breakfasts. Completed.

Chapters

1. Bus to Nowhere

2. The White Room

3. Mrs Weasley’s Drinking Game

4. Dumbledore’s Cabin

5. An Imperious Minister

6. Seagull Pie

7. The Resistance

8. The Siege

9. A Single Tear

10. Two Demands

11. Seven Minutes Past Three

12. The Sensible Thing

13. Nothing Else Will Do

14. Epilogue

1. Bus to Nowhere

A Place of Contemplation

by Jardyn39

Summary

Harry has been away from the magical world for a while, having lost his ability to perform magic when he defeated Voldemort. Summoned back, he can hardly believe the changes that have happened. The new Dark Lord’s influence has spread quickly and this time the Order isn’t there to help. Still, perhaps all Harry really needed to get his strength back was one of Mrs Weasley’s breakfasts.

Introduction

This story is set a few months after Harry graduated at Hogwarts. He has distanced himself from the magical world and his friends.

Chapter 1: Bus to Nowhere

Harry Potter quietly pulled the panelled timber door to his second floor London bedsit towards him. As usual, the hinges creaked slightly. He checked he had his keys once more before finally closing the door.

Glancing into the dark room, Harry was reminded what a miserable place he was living in. The moth eaten and worn carpets nicely matched the peeling paint and mouldy woodchip lining paper.

He quietly closed the door which was slightly warped. This generally required it to be slammed shut in order for the latch to catch, but as it was still very early in the morning, Harry tried pulling the door closed using the loose handle. He was sure one of these days the handle would come off, sending him flying across the hall.

This morning, however, the door clicked shut.

He pushed the door to make sure it actually was locked and then crept down the stairs.

As he passed the closed entrance door to the front ground floor flat, Harry was reminded that he might just as well leave his door wide open. Harry’s landlady, Mrs Broom, an elderly widow had keys to all the rooms in the large house and regularly let herself in to poke around her tenant’s possessions.

Her door, though, was resplendent with several shiny locks.

Harry pulled the large timber panelled entrance door open and made his way outside down the short flight of steps.

He glanced back at the door. It was his single favourite feature of the entire house and the only thing that looked like it wasn’t about to crumble with decay. Harry was sure the door frame was holding up the entire front elevation.

Harry pretended to ignore the familiar twitch of the curtains as he set off down the road.

*

Harry approached the black iron railings of the park. As it was still early, the gates were chained shut, so he would walk around the outside path. It only took a few minutes more but Harry liked to see and smell the green grass as he passed.

He generally walked through the park on his way back home in the evenings, but it wasn’t the same as the beginning of the day somehow.

Harry chided himself again.

How could he think of that place as home?

Still, he reminded himself, it was cheap and matched his mood lately.

As Harry walked, his thoughts returned, as they always did during quieter moments, to Hermione. He wondered what she was doing at that exact moment.

Harry walked up and joined the end of the queue at the bus stop. Most of the people in front of him were now familiar, but he had never spoken to any of them.

He had learned quite quickly about the unspoken rules for commuters travelling on London’s public transport. People never looked each other in the eye and never, ever, spoke. Occasionally, Harry observed, seasoned commuters would exchange a small nod in acknowledgement of each other. Such displays were clearly reserved, however, and Harry wondered how many decades we would be commuting before receiving his first nod.

There were exceptions, of course. Some people obviously felt the need to talk.

One regular lady talked incessantly to her large handbag, but Harry thought it was more common to see people talking to their pets.

Harry shuddered remembering the last one. He had no idea what species the dog was as he had never before seen one in that condition. It looked like its owner had covered the tiny dog in petroleum jelly. She certainly wasn’t keen on handling the dog and had insisted upon making the poor thing sit on the seat that just had to be Harry’s.

Harry wasn’t sure what it was about him that attracted the more eccentric travellers to him. He was sure that every drunk, lunatic or unwashed strange staring person made a bee line straight for him.

He did his best to ignore the strange staring person that had just joined the end of the queue and apparently had to stand rather too close to Harry than he was entirely comfortable with.

The traffic lights changed at the road junction and a red bus came around the corner.

This, Harry knew, would be immediately followed by two more. As it was very early in the morning, relatively few people travelled at this time and it was generally possible to get a seat in the first bus and the two empty buses would race to reach the bus depot first, usually without carrying a single passenger.

There was a strange logic at work here that Harry still hadn’t fathomed. He knew that in only a few minutes the number of passengers wanting to catch a bus would increase dramatically. Naturally, there would be fewer buses running at that time.

As the bus approached, everyone in the queue shuffled forward.

Harry shuffled along with them, feeling the strange staring person at his back.

He had now learned to widen his elbows at this stage. Old women with heavy bags tended to push past in an attempt to jump the queue at this moment.

Just as Harry recalled how quickly he had lost the need to be polite and allow others on first, he had a vague thought.

As he shuffled forward, he was sure he was supposed to remember something. He reached into his jacket pocket for his bus pass and grasped a note.

Then he remembered.

His pass expired on Friday. He needed to buy another to travel, at a fare he could afford, anyway.

Shoulders sagging, he extricated himself from the queue and walked into the newsagent, hoping he had enough cash on him. He had wasted all this time, and now he would have to travel on a later bus. He knew it would be packed and he wouldn’t get a seat either.

As he entered the shop, his single comforting thought was that he wouldn’t be travelling with the strange staring person this morning.

A few minutes later, he exited with his new bus pass.

As predicted the queue now stretched right down the street and there were no buses in sight.

Walking to the end of the queue, Harry realised it would be one of those days. The strange staring person had waited for him.

*

Harry couldn’t get on the first two buses that came along, but he did catch the third. Few people bothered with this particular bus, since it only went about halfway before turning around.

Not even the strange staring person wanted to get on.

Harry thought it was worth the risk. Moving in the right direction was at least something, even if he would have to contend with even longer queues at the turn around.

Just occasionally, though, Harry had been lucky with this bus. Sometimes the Inspector would change the journey and send the bus on the full route. When it did this the driver would invariably go right past the throngs fighting to board the other buses.

It was incredibly satisfying to sail past, looking down on those poor souls.

The bus pulled up at the turn around point, a particularly wide part of the road. Harry readied himself to jump off and find himself another bus. He would have a choice of route numbers from here, although the buses would all be packed with frustrated commuters by now.

Harry looked down from the upper deck of the Routemaster. There was an Inspector. Would he be lucky today?

The bus sped off again, taking a tight right and heading up the steep incline approaching the railway bridge.

There was a collective groan from the passengers as the bus turned into the depot.

From experience, Harry knew not to get up until the bus had actually stopped. You could just about hang on normally, but the drivers liked to drive through the depot at a frightening speed and threw the vehicles into tight turns.

Harry had read somewhere that these buses had to pass a tilt test, but he was sure these drivers’ ambition was to overturn one in a spectacular stunt.

To Harry’s and most of his fellow traveller’s surprise, however, the bus didn’t stop. After a brief but interesting tour of the garage, they were on their way again.

The Inspector had obviously extended the route.

Harry smiled to himself.

Perhaps the day would be better, after all.

*

Harry closed his eyes, listening to the droning bus engine. He was so tired. He had hardly slept at all.

Saturday night’s sleep had been disturbed by the revelry maintained by his fellow tenants. They were mostly students who, Harry assumed, slept during daylight hours and partied all night.

Harry didn’t begrudge their fun, but it did get a little wearing at times. He kept reminding himself that many of them were actually older than he was.

Last night he had had the dream again.

Harry immediately opened his eyes, always very uncomfortable when he remembered that dream.

He only had two dreams these days that he remembered in the morning, anyway. His nightmares about Voldemort had continued, even after his demise. Somehow, though, the other dream was worse for Harry.

*

Harry jumped off the bus and hurried himself the few yards to the office entrance, a dirty white building with an imposing black door.

As he entered, Harry looked for the milk bottles. There weren’t any. That meant that either someone else was in already or the local tramps had taken them again.

Harry used his key to get into the inner glazed door and stroked his fingers down over the bank of electric light switches. The fluorescent tubes flickered into life after a weekend of inactivity.

“Morning, Harry. Good weekend?”

“Morning,” replied Harry, smiling at the middle aged man carrying two heavy looking briefcases and walking towards him. Mr Brooke was the owner of the firm and came in from the rear entrance where the staff car park was located.

“Fine thanks. You?,” Harry said, following him up the stairs where their offices were located.

“Good thanks. Er, no milk again?”

“’Fraid not, no.”

“I’ll get you to run down to the corner shop in a moment, in that case. I can’t start the day without a cup of tea.”

Harry smiled, wondering why they didn’t just give up and always get the milk from the cornershop.

“Molly sends you her love,” said Brooke, pushing the fire door open and propping it open so it didn’t slam back in Harry’s face.

“Mrs Weasley?”

“Yes, she came over on Sunday. Molly was terribly disappointed you didn’t turn up again. I’m sure she thinks I don’t invite you over.”

Brooke disappeared into his office, leaving Harry standing in the lobby.

Harry always felt particularly awkward when Brooke mentioned Mrs Weasley, especially as it was she that had persuaded her cousin to give him a job in the first place.

He walked into the kitchen area and filled the kettle before checking the fridge for milk. There was half a carton left. He sniffed the open top cautiously before pouring it down the sink.

As he was about to bin the carton, Harry realised the only writing he could read on the packaging was the word, “Milk,” on the front. Every other word was written in an unfamiliar language. This didn’t bother him too much apart from the tiny asterisk next to the, “Milk,” title. He wondered qualification you needed to make to this particular product. It had been the subject of several speculations from his colleagues, each suggesting a different animal whose milk they might be sampling.

Brooke reappeared and pushed some coins into his hands.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” said Harry, pocketing the change.

*

Harry spent the morning quietly continuing through the ledgers. He was the most junior member of the practice, so he got the most menial tasks. These were generally things that were so mind numbingly boring that no one else could face them.

Harry didn’t mind though, particularly as the office was quiet today.

He shared the back office with three more senior workpeople. One was an Associate Partner and the other two were a few years off full qualification.

It was relatively unusual for them to work outside the office, but sometimes large clients insisted and Harry was sure they enjoyed getting out of the office as well sometimes.

He had never been invited to join them, but he was mildly curious to see how other companies worked.

“Good grief, Harry, you’re not actually working?”

Harry looked up to see a smiling Brooke looking over his shoulder.

“When I was a junior and the office was empty, I can assure you I didn’t do a stroke of work!”

Harry laughed as Brooke placed a message on his Associate’s desk.

“Mind you are at least an hour late back from lunch,” he warned before leaving. “I’ll be watching the clock!”

Harry chucked quietly as the door closed slowly after Brooke. He rather liked Brooke, not least because he had manfully fended off Molly Weasley’s considerable attempts to locate where Harry was living these days.

*

Harry was just entering the building after taking his lunch in the park when Brooke hurried down the steps.

“I’m going to be late again!” he said as he approached. Brooke had a habit of never quite leaving enough time for travelling to his next appointment. There was always a phone call to delay him.

Harry smiled and stepped aside for him.

Brooke had almost disappeared when he stopped and shouted up, “Harry?”

“Yes?” he answered, peering over the balustrade.

“Come on, it’s time you got out of here. I want a word with you anyway.”

Harry was a little stunned for a moment before hurrying down the stairs to catch up with Brooke. He could not recall when any of the others had been invited out by Brooke to see a client, including the Associates.

Brooke was at his car before Harry caught up with him.

The Associates’ cars were all almost new and top of their range. Brooke’s car, however, was rather old but positively oozed quality. The central locking unlocked almost noiselessly and Harry eased himself into the comfortable leather and polished walnut interior.

“Now, today, Harry, I just want you to observe and listen. Also try to take extensive notes. You’ll see why later when you try to recall what was discussed,” began Brooke as they made their way through the traffic.

“Don’t be tempted to join in the discussion and never ask a question unless you know the answer. That is important.

“In addition you should never, under any circumstances, offer an opinion. Even if you were to be right, you are unqualified. It is often very tempting for clients to push for an answer or reassurance they want to hear rather than face up to the reality of their situation. It is usually easier to pressure someone inexperienced to get that reassurance. Remember you are representing the practice and we could get sued for anything you say that is out of turn.”

Harry gulped, half wishing he had stayed behind.

“This particular client, whom we are visiting this afternoon, is new to us. I’m not entirely sure about them yet, and they appear to be in some difficulties. As you know I tend to concentrate on tax matters these days, which is why I’m dealing with them.”

“Um,” asked Harry hesitantly. “Why did you want me to come along?” He hoped his question didn’t sound too rude.

“Two reasons. First of all, I want you to know there is more to this profession than those interminable figures you’ve been working on. I appreciate from your perspective it may not seem like it.”

Harry smiled and grabbed the door handle as Brooke swerved to narrowly avoid a cyclist.

“Molly reminded me yesterday, rather forcefully actually, that it is about time you considered your future career. I’d like you to consider studying for some qualifications. The problem at the moment is that you are of limited use to us until you begin to know more. A lot comes from experience, but an awful lot these days comes from studying.”

Harry nodded, remembering the technical discussions he’d listened to in the office. He also knew it took years to become fully qualified, and many people didn’t make it.

“To be honest,” continued Brooke, “I’m not sure we can offer you the career you may feel you deserve. Don’t get me wrong,” he added, making another swerve, “I want you to decide what’s best for you. Many young people take a while to settle on what they want to do in the long term.”

They turned off down a side road and almost immediately turned again into a small car park.

“Now, Harry, as I said, I want you to observe. Try to take in what I don’t. We’ll compare notes after, but it isn’t just about figures and contracts. Look at the people we meet and ask yourself what they aren’t telling us.”

They locked the car and Harry carried Brooke’s two pilot cases into the reception. Almost immediately, they were shown into one of the adjacent meeting rooms.

*

Brooke waited until they were back at the car before speaking.

“Well done,” he said quietly with a small smile. “I can’t tell you how pleased I was not to be embarrassed by someone accompanying me. Last time Jenny complained about the bruising I caused from kicking Peter’s shins under the table.”

Jenny’s husband, Peter, was one of the newer Associate Partners.

Harry smiled as he waited for the passenger door to unlock. He threw his new notepad and jacket onto the back seat before getting inside.

As they set off, Brooke asked casually, “So what did you make of that?”

Harry considered before answering.

“Well, to be honest, your discussions about the import and export regulations went over my head. I did pick up that they may be in trouble, though.”

“Indeed. Tax avoidance is fine and entirely legal. Tax evasion isn’t. I’m still not sure whether they really were ignorant of the regulations or not.”

“The elder one certainly knew they were breaking the law,” said Harry without thinking. “The other one, who kept talking all the time, just trusted the other one.”

Brooke slowed the car to a halt, earning them an angry beep from the black taxi cab behind them.

Brooke turned to Harry and asked seriously, “How did you know?”

“I just know,” said Harry, who suddenly realised his assumption that Brooke knew pretty much everything about him, was wrong.

Harry decided Brooke deserved his trust.

He turned to see Brooke studying him closely.

“I assumed Mrs Weasley told you about me,” he began.

Brooke swore under his breath and said, “You’re a wizard.” It wasn’t a question.

Harry nodded.

Brooke paused a moment before coming to his senses and, after checking his mirrors, set off again.

“Molly didn’t tell me anything. She said you had some things you needed to work through and could I just give you something to do while you got yourself back on track. I didn’t think you were any different from all the other juniors we’d taken on.”

“So you know about wizards?”

“Oh, yes! I used to love being invited over to Molly’s parents home during the holidays. Amazing atmosphere. They used to stay with us as well sometimes. I’m sure they found us just as strange! We were aware that not all wizarding families had the same views, but with them the magic came second to a loving home.”

Harry smiled, remembering how kind and welcoming the Weasleys had been to him in better times.

“I am a qualified wizard, in that I graduated a few months ago. The thing is, something happened to me at the end of my last year.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t like to talk about it, but the result was I lost my ability to perform magic. To all intents and purposes, I’m a squib now.”

“A squib?”

“A squib is a derogatory term used for someone from a wizarding family who can’t perform magic themselves.”

“I see. Harry, I want you to promise me never to refer to yourself by that term again.”

“Er, sure,” replied Harry, somewhat taken aback by the seriousness of Brooke’s tone.

“Anyway, back to our friends back there. What else did you notice?”

“Well, when I went to the loo I walked out into their production area. They have storage in there too. I can’t see how they could ever maintain the kinds of volume their figures claimed.”

“Anything else?”

“There were rather a lot of security cameras around.”

“Yes, but they were installed by the previous leaseholder. We still handle their accounts. This new firm has only moved in for a few weeks.”

“Oh.”

“The production and packing area is on the small side, but these days it makes sense to save money on storage by having suppliers deliver only when necessary to maintain production. In any case, what they are doing isn’t that labour intensive and the batches go out to the wholesalers very regularly. They also use a bonded warehouse closer to the port they usually export from.”

“Oh, I didn’t realise.”

“But you were quite right about the two we met today.”

Harry turned to see a smile on Brooke’s face as they sped along in the lightening evening traffic.

“I’m sorry Harry, but we’re going to be late back to the office. I can drop you off it will make your journey easier?”

“Um, no thanks. It’s easier to catch the bus from my usual stop.”

“Okay. So how did you know? Something about his handshake?”

Harry laughed and said, “No. Are you sure you want to know?”

“Yes, but only tell me what you’re comfortable with.”

Harry took a deep breath and said, “When I was at school, I had some problems with someone who could read my feelings and thoughts. I found I could do the same to him, but I had no real control over what I saw or when.

“In an attempt to prevent this happening, I was taught Occlumency. It’s a technique that is supposed to help someone blocking another’s attempts to read their mind.

“I eventually got quite good at Occlumency, but it is a skill that is very close to Legilimency, and I found after a while that I could read other peoples’ feelings. I can tell when someone is lying.”

“So you can do some magic?”

“No, this is just something I have retained for some reason. The strange thing is, it doesn’t work on some people at all. I also mix up the emotions some people are feeling.”

“That’s a shame.”

“You’re telling me,” muttered Harry, looking out of the window and thinking once again how different his life might be if he could read people better.

As they entered the car park back at the office, it was gone seven o’clock and the other cars had all gone.

“Here, Harry,” said Brooke handing him a small wad of bank notes. “This is an advance on your wages. Before you come in tomorrow, get yourself a suit. Nothing too flashy, just be smart and presentable and be in by eleven. We have a VIP coming, so don’t be any later.”

“Okay, thanks,” said Harry, pocketing the money.

“So, is the reason that you are living in that dump like a hermit just because you can’t perform magic?”

“No, not entirely,” Harry admitted. He wasn’t about to elaborate.

He bid Brooke goodnight and walked out of the car park entrance, heading for his bus stop on the other side of the junction.

2. The White Room

A Place of Contemplation

by Jardyn39

Chapter 2: The White Room

As soon as Harry slid his key into the wonky cylinder lock to his bedsit door, he had a feeling he would find an unexpected visitor inside.

Sure enough, he found a familiar figure sitting in his only chair.

“You’re late, Potter.”

“I didn’t realise we had an appointment,” said Harry hanging his jacket up on a lopsided coat hook.

“There’s something wrong with your fridge, by the way.”

“Really?” asked Harry with concern, walking over and opening the age yellowed refrigerator door. The light came on and the insides appeared cool. Ice was still caked around the ice box.

“This seems fine. Why did you think it was broken?”

“Well, it doesn’t fill itself up again after you take things out.”

Harry looked again and groaned.

“No, this is a Muggle fridge. I can’t believe you ate my dinner. Those sausages were all I had! I’m starving too.”

“They looked rather appetising on the packet. They should have given more specific cooking instructions, though.”

“For sausages? I was looking forward to trying them too. What did they taste like?”

“I’ve no idea. I wasn’t hungry; I just got bored waiting for you.”

Harry counted to ten.

“At the risk of sounding rude, what the hell are you doing here?”

“To give you your potion, of course.”

“Why?”

“You know full well you must take the draught at the appropriate time in the lunar cycle.”

“I mean, what is the point? It hasn’t worked, has it? I’m never going to get my magical powers back. Isn’t it time we gave up on this muck?”

“Minerva insisted you continue the entire course to the end of the treatment.”

“That’s Professor McGonagall to you, Snape,” Harry said coldly.

Snape smirked at him and placed a smoking cup between them on the table.

“Drink it at once,” Snape ordered.

“It’s different from usual. I can smell that from here.”

“Of course it is different. Each cup you take contains a stronger version of the active ingredients. If you took a strong dose without becoming accustomed to it, you would die from poisoning.”

Harry grabbed the cup, fully aware of the promise he’d made to Professor McGonagall.

He downed the ghastly liquid in one gulp and slammed the goblet back down on the table which wobbled slightly.

“I should perhaps have warned you about certain side effects that you may experience this time,” said Snape, standing and taking the goblet. He looked like he was fighting not to smile.

In his head, Harry tried to say, “What?”

He was quite unable to speak though and he felt his knees buckle under him as he fell heavily to the floor, sending dust flying into the air.

“Well, enjoy the remainder of your evening, Potter. You’ll need to take a supplemental potion during the day tomorrow. I have made arrangements for it to be delivered to you. I would recommend you take it as directed, or the consequences may be fatal.

“By the way, both the tin of potatoes and that tin of salmon in that cupboard are months past their use by dates. You might want to consider throwing them out. The tin of corned beef is fine, though. Unfortunately, you appear to have mislaid the key.”

*

Harry broke out of his paralysis at eight thirty the next morning, but it was past nine o’clock before he was able to finish dressing and head out of the door.

He was in a towering temper, and he almost slammed the door off its hinges.

He had spent the entire night fully awake, completely unable to move and plotting terrible revenges upon Snape.

It was a terrible irony that the one person he loathed more than anyone else from the magical world was the only person from that world who knew where he was living these days.

Professor McGonagall had made him promise to keep taking the series of potions in a vain attempt to lift the curse. She had assured him that Snape would never reveal his whereabouts to anyone, including herself.

By now, though, Harry was convinced he was suffering for no reason at all. Voldemort hadn’t placed a curse on him to shield his powers; he had simply drained him of them. There appeared to be nothing left to restore.

Harry only remembered that he was supposed to buy himself a suit when he was on the bus and fumbling for his bus pass. It took him a moment to remember where the money had come from.

He got off early and headed for the store that he’d bought all his work clothes from, a place recommended by Brooke after his interview. He ran through the open doors and straight up the stairs to the First Floor.

Most of the clothes he’d bought last time were off the peg. He was hoping to be lucky this time. If he’d had the time he would have tried somewhere cheaper.

To his amazement, they appeared to be expecting him.

The senior assistant, who had served him before, handed him a pile of clothes and pointed him towards the changing rooms.

They had a conversation through the curtains as Harry dressed himself. Not only was there a respectably plain suit, but also a shirt and tie.

“Mr Brooke called us this morning,” advised the assistant. “We had your details from when you were fitted out before, Sir. I trust Sir approves of the style?”

Harry pulled the curtain back and said, “These are great! The trousers are a little long, though.”

“Stand on the stool and I’ll pin them up temporarily. You can drop them in for a permanent adjustment later, when you have more time.”

Harry looked at his watch as the assistant worked quickly. It was half past ten.

“I need to hurry,” said Harry to himself.

“Mr Brooke has sent you a cab, Sir.”

“Really?”

“Would Sir like to pay at the Cashier while I wrap your old clothes, Sir?”

“Um, thanks. Thanks for everything.”

*

Harry jumped out of the cab and paid the driver before rushing up to the offices on the First Floor. At the top of the landing he tried to compose himself.

He made a valiant and utterly unconvincing attempt to casually walk into the back office. To his relief, though, it was once again deserted.

He walked over to his desk and removed his jacket before opening the window.

The cool fresh air relaxed him as he caught his breath properly. The sound of laughter reached his ears. He wondered where it was coming from. Possibly one of the meeting rooms, he decided.

Harry realised that all the papers and ledgers that he’d been working through had all gone. His desk was completely bare. Even his pens had gone.

The office door opened and Harry turned around.

Her face was smiling and rather red, but tears were forming in her eyes. By the time she reached him, Molly Weasley was in floods of tears.

“Oh, Harry,” she sobbed. “I’ve been so worried about you.”

Harry felt his throat tighten as he returned her hug and he realised he was feeling quite tearful too.

After a long moment, she pushed him away and said, “Let me take a proper look at you. You’re so thin! But you do look smart, Harry.”

“Um, this is new today, actually. I think it was in your honour,” he added with a smile.

“Now, before I forget,” she said, producing a small green bottle and handing it to him. “Severus said you must take this in one swallow after a meal at precisely seven minutes past three this afternoon. He said the time was very important.”

“Is that British Summer Time or Greenwich Mean Time?”

“Gosh! He didn’t say! Whatever shall we do?”

Harry grinned at her stricken face and said, “Its okay, Mrs Weasley, I was just kidding.”

She slapped him playfully on his arm.

“Honestly,” she said with a smile.

“Snape didn’t happen to mention if there would be any side effects with this dose, did he?”

“Well, sort of. I mean, when I asked he just sort of grinned. I’m sure it won’t be anything too bad-”

“Or he’d want to witness it himself?” Harry finished for her, holding the bottle up to the light.

“I do wish you two would make up your differences.”

“Why?” Harry found himself asking.

“Well, Severus could do with some support right now and so will you when you recover and rejoin the magical community.”

“Mrs Weasley, I’m not going to recover,” Harry said gently.

Knowing that more tears were coming he held out his arms and they comforted each other.

“So much has changed, Harry. You just have to recover, you just have to.”

*

After several minutes, Mrs Weasley composed herself again in time for Brooke to pop his head around the door and say, “We ready? Come on, we have a table booked for lunch.”

As the three of them walked along the busy high road to the hotel restaurant, Harry reflected on how much he had missed Mrs Weasley. He had hated distancing himself from her, but she seemed to accept that he felt the need to do so.

She had diplomatically not mentioned anything about the others, perhaps fearing Harry’s reaction.

Harry himself was unsure how he would react to news of his friends. A short while ago, he would have reacted badly. Now, he wasn’t sure.

The only thing he was sure of was that it was time to stop hurting Mrs Weasley. She was clearly worried about something. Perhaps it was time to rejoin the magical community after all, magic abilities intact or not.

*

They entered the tiny bar immediately inside the entrance to the hotel restaurant. They had entered down the steep basement stairs that avoided the main hotel entrance.

“Three dry white wines, please,” asked Brooke.

“Hang on!” said Mrs Weasley, producing a long list in Snape’s spiky handwriting. She quickly scanned the list. “No, white wine is fine, Harry.”

“What’s that Molly?” asked Brooke.

“This is a list of everything Harry can and can’t consume in case the, er, medicine is affected.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Would you like to have your drinks at your table, Sir?” asked the barman.

“Yes, that would be fine, thanks.”

“Very good, Sir. Please go through. I will bring your drinks through at once.”

*

“I’m so glad you could come, Molly,” said Brooke smiling. “I hardly spoke a word to you at the weekend. I suppose that’s the price you pay for being a favourite Aunt.”

Mrs Weasley smiled warmly at her cousin.

“How is everyone?”

“Oh, same as usual. I hardly see them at all, actually. They’re usually off doing their own things. Still, it’s nice when those that can make it get together for lunch.”

Harry listened as Mrs Weasley and Brooke recounted their childhood misadventures together during their summer holidays. It sounded like an incredibly carefree existence. It also sounded like the Ministry didn’t quite regard underage magic with such seriousness as they had with him.

They finished their meal shortly before three o’clock, when Mrs Weasley began to glace at her watch every ten seconds, between straining to see the clock on the wall.

Brooke smiled at her and stretched.

“We’ve booked a room for you here, Harry,” he said. “Unless, you’d rather just collapse at the table?”

Harry snorted.

“Somewhere private would be better,” he admitted.

Brooke gave him an appraising look and said, “Well, Harry. It’s been a pleasure. I’m sorry that we’ll be losing you.”

“Losing me? I’m not sure this is going to work, you know?”

“Will that make a difference? I’m not sure it should. Somehow, I feel that the Dark Art of Accountancy isn’t really for you.”

“Harry’s usually fighting the Dark Arts, actually,” quipped Mrs Weasley.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll have your things packed up from your bedsit and send them on to Molly. I’ll pay off any rent you have outstanding.”

They stood and Brooke extended his hand.

Harry shook his hand, and Brooke said, “I’ll see you soon, Harry, I’m sure of it.”

“Thank you for everything,” said Harry.

Brooke took a step around the table and kissed Molly.

“Will you be okay?” he asked gently.

Mrs Weasley nodded with a tearful smile.

Brooke gave her another reassuring hug and said, “Go up that staircase. It leads directly to the hotel reception.”

They parted and Brooke went to pay the meal bill.

At the hotel desk, the young receptionist confirmed Harry’s details and handed them a room key.

“Is there anything to pay?” asked Mrs Weasley uncertainly.

“Oh, no,” she advised with a smile. “Mr Brooke has paid in advance for two weeks and has made arrangements should you require the room for longer. Enjoy your stay, Mr Potter.”

They walked towards the lift, and Harry was about to query why they had booked the room for so long, but Mrs Weasley warned him not to say anything.

They got to the room.

Inside there was a single bed, a wooden chair and a side table. On the table was an ornate clock showing the time just after three o’clock.

There was no other furniture in the room at all. Everything in the room was entirely white, including the walls and carpet. There were no curtains hanging against the single window, but the glass was a white opaque that looked quite unnatural.

“Harry, please lie on the bed and relax. We don’t have much time. I promise we’ll talk properly after.”

Harry took off his jacket and sat on the bed.

“I’ve got to go. I’ll seal you in, so you won’t be disturbed. The whole room is sealed, actually.”

She hurried back towards the door.

“Good luck, Harry, dear,” she said shakily before exiting. Harry listened as he heard the squelch of the door being sealed.

Harry pulled off his shoes and unbuttoned his shirt. He might as well be comfortable.

He sat on the bed, potion bottle in hand, waiting for the second hand on the bedside clock to reach precisely seven minutes past three.

Harry swallowed the potion in one, and was unconscious before he hit the bedclothes.

3. Mrs Weasley’s Drinking Game

A Place of Contemplation

by Jardyn39

Chapter 3: Mrs Weasley’s Drinking Game

Harry woke with every muscle in his body screaming in pain. He opened his eyes, but he couldn’t focus.

He appeared to be lying awkwardly in the middle of the floor in the white room. Something was digging painfully into his back. Harry tried to move, but he couldn’t.

Harry looked around. Next to him was a white shape. He squinted, wishing his glasses hadn’t fallen off. The object came into focus. It looked like it was part of the steel bed frame, only it looked twisted into a knot.

Some closer objects on the carpet came into focus. They were small metal cogs of some kind. The clock! The clock had been smashed, along with the side table.

Harry desperately tried to move. He was in agony.

A movement across the room caught his eye. There was a dark, unfocused shape. The shape was a person, sitting in the white chair. They were facing away from him.

He squinted, trying to make out who it was.

The shape was still now, and silent. There was a malevolence in the silence that quite unnerved him.

Harry tried to call out, but he succumbed to the darkness once more.

*

Harry woke again. This time he was warm and comfortable. He opened his eyes. He was lying in bed, but he was no longer in the white room.

With difficulty, he pushed the bedcovers off and groped for his glasses. He was feeling weak, and had no idea how long he’d been unconscious for.

The room came into focus. The ceiling was tilted at an alarming angle and the window frame wasn’t square at all. Either he was seeing things, or he was in a wizarding house.

A grin spread across his face as the familiar sound of a ghoul banging in the attic reached his ears. He was at the Burrow!

He staggered out of bed and lurched towards the door. He grasped the handle, and vaguely thought he might be forgetting something important.

Clothes!

Harry reached for the dressing gown hanging off a hook on the back of the door and hurried out of the room.

*

Harry was about halfway down the rickety staircase when he acknowledged to himself that perhaps his legs weren’t entirely up to speed with recent events. They obviously hadn’t quite got the message that he needed to get downstairs now.

He grasped the side walls with his hands and practically carried himself down to the bottom.

“Harry, dear! What ever are you doing?” exclaimed Mrs Weasley when she found him. “You have to get back to bed!”

“Not before I’ve had a cup of tea and fallen over at least once in the kitchen!”

“Silly boy,” she chided him before helping him into the kitchen.

He fell into a chair at the table and Mrs Weasley hurried over to a cupboard.

“It’s okay, I’m not in that much of a hurry for a cup of tea!”

“Yes, you are!” she shouted.

Almost at once she returned with a small blue potion bottle.

“Oh, no. Not again! How long will I be out for this time?”

“Drink it all now, Harry!”

“But,” he protested.

“Drink!” she commanded, yelling at him.

He drank, and immediately began to feel the strangest sensation. It was cool and tingling, and spread from his stomach to the tip of his limbs.

“That was actually quite nice.”

Mrs Weasley slammed another blue bottle on front of him.

“Drink!” she commanded. “That bottle obviously wasn’t strong enough. Drink!”

Harry drank.

“Tell me how you feel, Harry.”

“Tingly. My finger tips are tingling but numb.”

Another bottle appeared. This one smoked when the stopper was removed.

He drank.

Mrs Weasley came very close to him, looking intently into his eyes.

“Tell me how you feel, Harry!”

Harry wasn’t focussing too well by this stage. He felt another bottle being forced into his hand.

He drank, and then knew no more.

*

Harry slept deeply and this time, he dreamed as well. At first he dreamt of Voldemort, except he knew he was dreaming this time. It wasn’t his usual nightmare, though. This time he could feel his emotions and fears that drove him to create the dream in the first place.

Then he dreamt of a ghastly bedsit that transformed itself into a strange white room. There was pain in that white room and an unfocused person who moved occasionally. He wondered who they were.

Then he dreamt the dream, and somehow forgot he was dreaming again.

Harry woke with a start. He was back in his bed at the Burrow.

He wiped his face and lay panting for a few moments, his customary way to wake up these days.

Harry wondered how long he had been unconscious. From his stubble, he guessed it might have been a few days again.

He groped around for his glasses and then allowed his head to sink back into his warm, comfortable pillows. The room was bright with sunlight. He guessed it was afternoon, something he regretted.

He really rather fancied one of Mrs Weasley’s wonderful cooked breakfasts right then. As soon as he had thought of Mrs Weasley’s cooking, Harry found he was suddenly starving.

Harry sat up, and immediately a recent memory passed through his mind. His fingers had brushed something when he had reached for his glasses. Whatever it was, it hadn’t been there before.

He looked down at the bedside table and started.

It was a snake!

No, he realised. It wasn’t a snake. It was his wand.

He picked it up, wondering how he could ever have mistaken it for a snake.

As he did so, it appeared to vibrate and grow warm in his hand. Memories long forgotten flooded back.

The bedroom door opened. Harry was staring wide eyed, but he couldn’t see.

“Oh, thank goodness,” he heard Mrs Weasley sigh with relief. “I’ll put your breakfast on. Come down when you are ready, dear.”

The door closed again before he mumbled his stunned thanks. Flashes and sparks continued to obscure his vision, and his muscles twitched convulsively.

Harry realised that somehow his entire body was recalling how he performed magic. It was all coming back, from the movement of his wand, to the stances he took and the incantations to be spoken.

He was also aware of something else. His unconscious skills were returning as well.

Harry had tried to fly again at Hogwarts, but it had been utterly impossible. Now he knew he would fly again, something that had always given him enormous pleasure. Not being able to fly had been one of the hardest things for him to accept, not that he had refused to give away his Firebolt for that reason. Sirius had given him his racing broom, after all.

He hardly noticed as another violent convulsion threw him out of the bed. He hovered magically six inches above the carpet, completely oblivious to his surroundings, an enormous grin plastered across his face.

He had accepted it.

He hadn’t been happy about his situation, but losing his magic had been a fair price to pay, in his view, for ridding the world of Voldemort.

He would have soldiered on without magic.

After all, what choice was there?

But, now it was back, Harry couldn’t believe he had even considered giving up on Snape’s course of treatment.

Only fleetingly did he wonder how necessary the instant paralysis had been, or the time his hair had gone bright green, or when he grew those scales down one side.

Harry pushed aside such thoughts. This time, Snape had come through for him. He would actually have to thank him.

Well, he would once he was sure there were no more side effects.

*

Harry’s vision had almost returned to normal by the time he ventured downstairs again. He was still seeing a few sparks when Mrs Weasley hugged him and burst into tears.

He comforted her as best he could before gently guiding her to the rocking chair by the fireplace.

Harry poured them both tea and continued preparing his breakfast while Mrs Weasley recovered herself.

Eventually, Harry drew up a chair so they could talk.

“Oh, Harry. Now you’re on the mend, will you come back to us?”

Harry placed his hand on hers and said gently, “I would have come with or without my magic. All you had to do was ask.”

Mrs Weasley sniffed and said, “So much has happened, Harry. You’ll have to be so careful for a while. Please don’t let anyone but myself and Severus know that your magic is returning.”

“Why? Surely, the Order must know!”

“Harry, no. We can’t even tell Minerva. Everyone must think our attempt failed and was abandoned. Severus will be here shortly to take you away. He will complete your recovery and retrain you.”

“Great,” said Harry dryly. “Where’s he taking me?”

“A place of contemplation,” she replied carefully.

“Oh,” replied Harry, knowing at once that she knew what the place was but not its location. He had actually been there once before, but Harry had no idea that Snape had as well.

Snape Apparated with a pop in front of them.

“Potter, we must go,” he said coldly. “I think they know he’s returned,” he added and Mrs Weasley blanched.

Mrs Weasley grabbed Harry and whispered, “Go with all my love, Harry. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Become strong again and avenge us all!”

“Do you think you can Apparate?” asked Snape.

“I’ll try,” replied Harry as the ghoul began to bang and groan loudly with alarm.

Just before he Disapparated, Harry glanced back at Mrs Weasley. She was watching the clock in the kitchen with a look of trepidation.

The hands were moving.

4. Dumbledore’s Cabin

A Place of Contemplation

by Jardyn39

Chapter 4: Dumbledore’s Cabin

Harry Apparated silently directly onto the small timber jetty, looking out into the mist. The deck boarding glistened with beads of moisture and the smell of salt and seaweed was heavy in the air.

Somewhere out there was a series of small hidden islands, each unplottable since wizarding records began. Even from here, Harry could almost feel the magic.

Harry closed his eyes, and remembered Dumbledore standing there next to him on that very deck.

“Welcome, Harry. Welcome to Avalon. Contrary to popular belief, the island that the three maids brought Arthur to his final resting place, is only one of several wizarding islands out here. Wizards that have sought these islands, I should advise, have universally been considered insane.

“This is a place for Kings and Princes, Harry, those that fight for good and the well-being of others before their own mortal considerations.

“However, our destination isn’t quite as prestigious. There are no palaces on our island.

“Even so, the islands will not allow themselves to be tainted by an unworthy guest. Many wizards have become lost in the mists, never to be seen again.

“I should warn you, Harry, that if you will never be able to disclose the secret of travelling to the island I’m about to show you, unless that wizard is worthy him or herself. The mist cannot be deceived.

“In fact, the common assumption is that the isle of Avalon is a few miles down the coast. We’ll visit that island too, as we are so close.”

“Is that island magical too, Sir?”

“No, Harry. But there is a place that does excellent fish and chips that I’m rather fond of.”

Harry grinned widely remembering, and then his face fell. It had been a long time since he had recalled Dumbledore’s words so vividly. He missed his mentor terribly.

For a moment, Harry listened as the gentle waves lapped against the bank.

A loud pop interrupted his reverie. Snape marched up towards Harry, muttering, “One of these days it will be nice to Apparate somewhere directly, and not have to jump five times around the country to evade detection.”

“So, you really do know this place,” said Harry, wiping his face.

“Of course,” bristled Snape. “He trusted me!”

“I wasn’t insulting you,” insisted Harry. “The fact the Dumbledore showed us both this place says quite a lot for how he regarded each of us. That’s all I meant.”

“Oh. We should get on if we’re going to get there before nightfall.”

They climbed into the small rowboat and sat quietly, each thinking of their destination. This was the only way to get to the secret island.

Suddenly, the boat lurched forward.

Snape sighed.

“I do hope we were thinking of the same island. We may never reach land again otherwise.”

Harry snorted and said, “Well I was certainly thinking of the right place. I do feel a little over dressed, though. You were thinking of Majorca as well as me, weren’t you?”

They were soon completely enveloped in the cool white mist.

*

Harry became aware that the waters were becoming very still and the boat had slowed. They would be tested now, to see if they were worthy of their destination. According to legend, sea monsters patrolled the sea between the islands, waiting for the spirits in the mist to unleash them against unwelcome intruders.

Harry stared out into the mist. Strange shapes danced in front of his eyes. For a moment he thought he saw deep blue eyes and half moon spectacles.

Then he thought he saw a vague shadow in a white room.

Harry shuddered and forced that image from his mind.

Whatever that was, it wasn’t worthy.

Harry looked deeper into the mist. A shape that looked like Mrs Weasley waved at him. Darker shadows appeared to advance on her and Harry almost jumped out of the boat to help her.

That thought appeared to motivate the boat again.

Snape finished his conversation with a lobster, saying, “No, Mother, of course I wouldn’t,” and they were on their way at full speed again.

*

The small boat bumped into the wooden jetty. It looked absolutely identical to the jetty they had just left from. Indeed, Dumbledore had admitted it was the very same one. The only difference being, this one was in a different space and time.

At the time, Harry hadn’t believed Dumbledore and spend almost an entire day trying to prove this was the same island. It was the same; identical, save for a few minor things.

They walked up the path to Dumbledore’s cabin.

He called it his cabin, but it was actually a small but comfortable grass roofed stone cottage that was set down to avoid the worst of the winter gales.

Harry had smirked when Dumbledore declared it was his ambition to retire to this cottage. At the time, Harry could not understand why. There was nothing here but grass and sea birds. It was unplottable and utterly undetectable, so he probably wouldn’t have much company either.

Snape dumped his things down and said, “I’ll prepare a meal. I need to brief you on what has been happening. Will you get some fresh water from the spring?”

“Sure,” said Harry, retrieving the large covered bucket from beside the rudimentary stove.

He knew that Snape was finding it hard to remain civil towards him. There was no point in making things worse by antagonising him.

Harry trudged up the winding path, listening for the spring water.

He paused at the top of the hill. It was misty today, but when it was clear the view would be spectacular. He closed his eyes, remembering and taking in the atmosphere. Everything was alive with ancient magic here.

He looked down at the springs. He was at the highest point on the island and still the water flowed from the rock.

There were actually several grades of water. There was chilled, cold, warm, hot, scalding, soapy and with fabric conditioner. He was certainly on a wizarding island.

He approached the cold water spring and immediately it grew into a small fountain, allowing him to quickly fill his bucket. Even so, he waited for some time. Being a wizarding bucket, it held considerably more than its size would suggest. Indeed, there had been a minor tidal wave when he’d emptied the last dregs out before venturing up the hill.

As he returned down the hill, Harry paused to listen to the sea birds. He had been fascinated by them the last time he was here. Dumbledore had directed him to go and sit at the cliff edge and listen to them. After a while, he realised they were talking and occasionally snippets of wisdom could clearly be heard.

This time it was mostly just a jumble of random chattering, except for just a few words.

“He returns!”

“Has he found the path?”

If he had time, he resolved, he would return to listen properly.

*

Harry delivered the water and was immediately thrown out of the cottage by Snape while he made their meal. He didn’t argue, not wanting to antagonise Snape.

Mrs Weasley wanted them to make up their differences.

He wasn’t at all sure how realistic that would be, but he would try. Now though, Harry realised that some distance between them would be the best course.

Harry wandered down to the beach.

The tide was in now, and the mist prevented him from seeing more than a few yards out to sea. The tides here didn’t appear to follow the normal pattern, in that the high and low tides could occur at widely different times one day to the next.

Dumbledore had smiled when Harry had asked him about it, insisting that there was a pattern, but not the usual one.

“This is a place of contemplation, Harry. The island will present you with things like this to think about. You may or may not find an answer, but I guarantee something else will occur to you while you sit and contemplate. It will come out of the blue, and you’ll realise that you perhaps should have been thinking about that all the time.”

Harry kicked over a seaweed covered stone standing proud of the beach. The round stone rolled down the beach towards the sea, but in a wide arc. Its momentum appeared to carry it on until it arrived back in precisely the same spot it had been before Harry had kicked it.

Realising the stone had preferred to be where it was, he mumbled an apology and walked on.

Harry’s thoughts returned to the house and his grim bedsit in London.

Not exactly to the place, but someone he’d met there a few weeks ago.

Harry had returned late from work and had come in at the same time as some of his fellow tenants and various guests returned with drinks.

As the large group passed, Harry realised that one amongst them wasn’t at all happy and really didn’t want to be there. He couldn’t identity who they were at that point, but growing concerned, he dumped his meagre shopping in his flat and, for the first and last time, gate crashed the party in the rear First Floor flat.

This flat was generally the first choice for parties and social gatherings of the students. Apart from enabling Harry’s bedsit to receive the maximum volume of noise, it had access to the rear balcony and fire escape where people like to sit out and chat.

Harry had quickly scanned the occupants of the flats, looking for the original person as well as anyone else who might have thoughts of harmful intentions.

He was relieved to find no one having such thoughts. Everyone just wanted to have some fun.

Harry was at the point of accepting that he might have been mistaken again, when he spied someone outside on the balcony. He ventured out and realised that the girl staring out into the night was the person he’d read earlier.

He took a moment and used his Legilimency skills properly. He saw clear images now.

With the advantage of knowing her thoughts, Harry struck up a conversation with her, and quickly turned to the subject of places they’d rather be and people they’d rather be with.

Before they finished talking, Harry knew she’d resolved to herself to leave, not only the party that evening, but her present circumstances.

He never saw her again, but Harry had been unnerved when, just before leaving, she had quizzed him on the things he himself missed.

Harry realised she wasn’t asking questions as such, just telling him what he knew but had refused to admit.

She certainly touched a nerve when she spoke of the people he missed. She was rather specific about one person in particular.

Maybe, he mused, Legilimency wasn’t entirely a wizarding thing after all.

*

Dinner at the cottage consisted of a simple shellfish meal. The mussels were a local delicacy, and Harry enjoyed remembering that Dumbledore had prepared the pair of them the same meal when they had come before.

That time, Harry had been a little uncertain of the strange dish. Now he ate with gusto.

He wondered if every wizard who visited had this dish on their first night. Dumbledore had said it was important to live off the land and sea, in order to fully imbibe the magic.

Harry didn’t push Snape into talking, although he was bursting to know everything.

Well, almost everything. Some things would be hard to listen to, he suspected.

Snape’s first words, however, surprised Harry.

“I’m sure Molly will be alright, at least for the present. She’s shown quite a remarkable aptitude for deceit, recently.”

Harry nodded.

“I don’t know the cause of everything that has happened, but I will try to describe the effects,” continued Snape.

“You removed yourself from the wizarding community just after your Graduation, I recall.”

Harry nodded slowly, staring into the small flame of the table lantern between them.

“In the weeks that followed, a new Minister of Magic was appointed. Almost days after that, the show trials began.”

Harry looked up.

“Who is the new Minister?”

“His name is Stein. He was a very junior member of the Wizengamot, and considered quite an outsider. Most people think that’s why he got the job. He was neither associated with the Dark Lord nor the Order.”

“Why would association with the Order be a factor?”

“The show trials. Members of the Order of the Phoenix were put on trial.”

5. An Imperious Minister

A Place of Contemplation

by Jardyn39

Chapter 5: An Imperious Minister

“The show trials. Members of the Order of the Phoenix were put on trial.”

Harry was stunned. It was a moment before he was able to react at all. All the air in his lungs appeared to have gone.

“No,” Harry breathed, suddenly feeling the need to steady himself against the table. “Why on earth didn’t you tell me before? How could you let me stay away when everyone else was facing being put on trial?” he demanded, his voice becoming louder.

“There is nothing you could have done,” said Snape calmly.

“THAT’S HARDLY THE POINT!” Harry raged, jumping to his feet. “I should have been there with her-,” he caught himself, “with everyone!”

“You must understand. It was for your own protection. While you remained missing, the Ministry appeared to take no interest in finding you. The fact of your absence of magic was well documented and must have been a significant factor in their considerations.

“Even so, I have been travelling the country for a year to avoid detection. The only regular contact I’ve had with anyone apart from you is Molly. We had to be sure I wouldn’t lead them to you.”

“I thought you said they weren’t look for me?” said Harry, sitting down again.

“No, but they would have been glad to arrest you had you come to their attention. To be honest, I think someone knew the course of treatments you were taking would take this long. You were of no threat before now.”

“Why weren’t you in contact with Professor McGonagall as well?”

“We all agreed conduct our affairs entirely independently. That way if one of us failed or was betrayed, the others would be safe to continue. She is, I suspect, conducting a separate initiative against the Ministry.”

“Tell me about these show trials. What was everyone charged with?”

Snape’s expression hardened.

“Of those that were put on trial,” he continued sombrely, “only three of us were acquitted. Minerva McGonagall, Molly Weasley and myself. We were the first to be tried.”

“What happened to the others?”

Snape shifted uncomfortably.

“Most received life or long sentences in Azkaban.”

“What?” said Harry incredulously. “What ever could have warranted a life sentence?”

“Kingsley Shacklebolt was accused of killing five Aurors before he was captured. They certainly died, but it wasn’t entirely clear that Shacklebolt used lethal force to defend himself. Personally, I think it unlikely. They were his colleagues, after all.

“Anyway, at the time he was buying valuable time for the rest of us. Almost all of the Order’s records were destroyed or vanished in the time he gave us. He was the only one actually executed by the Wizengamot.”

“Hang on,” said Harry shakily. “Mrs Weasley’s clock. The hands moved before we Apparated away. Did they escape from Azkaban?”

“No. Not everyone in the Order was put on trial.”

“Who?” Harry asked coldly.

“It may not be as simple as that. They didn’t give evidence against the Order, quite the opposite, actually.”

“Go on.”

“Well, it appears to revolve around the Weasleys. Arthur and Bill disappeared while on separate missions for the Order. That was only a couple of weeks after you went. They have never been found, but the assumption is that they are dead.”

Harry closed his eyes.

“Charlie and both twins got sentences that were significantly reduced after their trials. All three are out of Azkaban now, but are keeping a low profile. I believe Molly has maintained contact with them. Ginny Weasley is still in Azkaban.”

“Ron,” whispered Harry.

“Ron,” echoed Snape.

“Ronald Weasley is certainly at the centre of the new Ministry power base. His brother Percy introduced him to the new Minister’s team before he was appointed. Percy himself has left the Ministry.”

“What?”

“Yes. The rumour is that he resisted some of Ron’s more extreme reforms. I think Molly pleaded for Percy’s life, as she did for the others. He still does favours for the Ministry, though. I suspect it was he that was on his way back to the Burrow. Part of the bargain he struck to be released.”

“What reforms?”

“Oh, just the usual. Anti everything that isn’t pure blood.”

“No, Ron was always dead against that kind of thing.”

“Perhaps he was. Unfortunately, the Minister personally gave him a job to do. Molly thinks that in the beginning, Ron felt he needed money and power to realise his ambitions. He was just seduced by them, and is now terrified of losing everything.

“Molly hasn’t actually seen him for a while now, although he still invites her to the Ministry receptions. She goes to them all in the hope of seeing him. Rather bizarrely, Ron apparently still insists upon regular family gatherings every weekend, although he never attends.”

“Luna?” Harry asked weakly.

“She was murdered at the Ministry about six months ago. They could find no witnesses prepared to give a statement. I don’t know what really happened, but she should have been in Azkaban at the time.”

“Hermione?” asked Harry in a voice barely more than a whisper.

Snape remained silent, and apparently unable to look Harry in the eye.

Harry knew from long experience he had no chance of using his Legilimency skills to read Snape. He would tell him when he was ready, not before.

“It seems I need to have a word with this Stein,” said Harry quietly.

“He hasn’t been seen in public for some time. I’ve wondered for a while if he wasn’t under an Imperious curse.”

“But who is left to do that? How many Death Eaters got away?”

“None that I’m aware of. Indeed, the new administration at the Ministry set about hunting them down even before they began their campaign against the Order. They had remarkable success almost at once. I was sure they had inside knowledge. Anyway, there were few public protests when they were all summarily executed.”

“Didn’t that surprise you though?” asked Harry. “I mean that they were all executed.”

“Yes, it did at the time. I had the impression that the Ministry was almost punishing them for their incompetence. Had they performed better, the Dark Lord might have prevailed, of course. Mind you, at the time I myself was in hiding, for fear that the Ministry would forget my changing sides.”

Harry thought. Snape was right. If Voldemort had survived, the first thing he would have done is kill all the Death Eaters. They had deserted him in the end, after all.

He chided himself. Voldemort was dead. He knew he was dead. His scar hadn’t hurt at all for a year now, after all. Hardly even an itch.

In spite of himself, Harry absently rubbed his forehead, dropping his arm when he caught Snape’s eye.

Snape, Harry realised, was thinking exactly the same thing. Maybe he did find another way to come back.

Harry sighed deeply and said wearily, “How did they even know who was in the Order?”

Snape looked down, waiting for Harry to answer his own question.

“Who was the Order’s new secret keeper?”

“Well, there wasn’t one. The Order ceased operations and disbanded almost immediately after you defeated the Dark Lord, so there was no need. We rather assumed, that with Dumbledore having passed on, the Order of the Phoenix as such would never again be called upon.”

Anger flared up momentarily inside Harry, but it subsided almost at once.

“Actually, that’s what Dumbledore wanted,” said Harry. “He said the Order would be replaced by another that would be born out of the ashes of the old one. I don’t think this is quite what he meant though. Why on earth didn’t anyone think to take better precautions?”

“Unfortunately, Dumbledore’s chosen Deputy was unavailable at the time to lend his expert advice,” said Snape coldly.

“I’m sorry,” said Harry, and he meant it.

“We will begin your training tomorrow,” said Snape, after a long silence between them. “Try to get some sleep.”

*

Harry had dragged his trunk all the way from his dormitory, through the castle and out into the night time grounds.

For some reason, his dream always started from his departing from the dormitory. He had no idea why, but he felt the same feeling of dread whenever he passed through the entrance hall.

That was when he was in the greatest danger of being caught. Harry tried to be as quiet as possible, although the cheering inside the Great Hall made it most unlikely that he would be heard. Fortunately the doors were closed.

Harry had attended his graduation ceremony earlier that afternoon, having just been discharged from the hospital.

He had told only Professor McGonagall of his intentions before he left. She said she would tell no one except Professor Snape and Molly Weasley. Mrs Weasley had made some hurried arrangements for him to get a job in the Muggle community.

McGonagall also told him, in no uncertain terms, that he was wrong to turn his back on his friends and supporters. Harry felt at the time that, with all his abilities gone, it was about time he got used to a non-magical way of life. The sooner he did that, the better.

She had pushed him on why he wanted to cut his ties with his friends as well, though.

Harry hadn’t answered her. Perhaps he should have confided in her, but he couldn’t. His feelings were just too raw, particularly then.

Harry had almost got to the entrance to the school grounds when he heard rapid footsteps coming towards him from the castle along the gravel drive.

“Harry!”

He stopped and turned as Hermione ran towards him, her cloak billowing out behind her.

“Harry,” she gasped when she ran to a stop in front of him.

“Hi,” he replied meekly.

“Where are you going? I looked everywhere for you!”

“I’m just going, Hermione. It will be for the best.”

“What? No! Not now. Not like this.”

“I don’t belong here.”

“Harry, I know those headlines must have been hurtful, but that’s no reason to go.”

Harry snorted, remembering the Prophet’s lurid announcement of his squib status. Voldemort’s actual defeat had been second page news.

“Why, then?” she asked more gently.

“I messed up, Hermione,” he said honestly. “It’s killing me inside.”

“No, you didn’t. You won, Harry. You lived!”

“It isn’t that. Well, not entirely. It’s the way I lived.”

“I don’t understand, Harry.”

Harry looked at her anguished features and seriously considered if he should tell her.

“I don’t want to cause you any more pain, Hermione. I’ve done enough of that. You’ll be better off without me.”

“How can you say that,” she said tearfully, trying to grab his arm.

Harry moved away.

“You’re not even going to tell me why? Is there no one you can tell? What about R-”

Harry turned away at once and began walking, dragging his trunk along.

“You told Ron, didn’t you?”

Harry didn’t look back as a sobbing Hermione collapsed onto the ground. Tears were streaming down his face.

Yes, he had told Ron.

That had been a mistake.

He continued on, feeling utterly heartless. He tried not to listen to her persistent calls.

Harry woke just before dawn to find that he had been crying in his sleep again.

*

Harry crept outside and made his way back up to the top of the cliffs. He wanted to be there when the sea birds began to wake.

Apart from the fact that he wanted something to take his mind off his dreams, Harry had found previously, that the birds somehow made more sense when not all of them were squawking and crying out.

Harry stood and listened as the birds began to wake.

Gradually words came to him on the fresh morning wind.

“Traitor! He should have stood with them!”

“He is guilty!”

“No, he feels the guilt!”

“He betrayed his feelings! He betrayed her!”

“He didn’t tell her!”

“But the magic was gone!”

“She released the power! She did it! She did it!”

Harry screwed his eyes shut, put both hands over his ears and shouted at the top of his voice.

“ENOUGH!”

The seabirds scattered into the air in alarm, their squawks now entirely unintelligible.

Harry fell to his knees, tears pouring down his face. He had no idea where the cliff edge was.

“I know,” he sobbed. “I know!”

*

Harry sat miserably picking over the remains of his fruit breakfast when Snape cleared his throat softly.

“The first day of our trial was a complete farce. The prosecuting council didn’t even know what we were being tried for. The senior Wizengamot judge threatened them that all the charges would be dismissed if they didn’t come back the next day properly prepared.

“Unfortunately for the three of us, they did come back better prepared.

“Our own council wasn’t prepared for the legal argument put forward. About halfway through that second morning, Miss Granger rushed into the court and started handing notes of things for our council to argue.

“The Wizengamot threw her out at once, of course, but we set her up outside with a table and desk and we had runners keeping her updated on the arguments in court and she sent in notes with counter arguments on them.

“The Minister was absolutely livid when the Wizengamot didn’t even bother to vote on our acquittal. It was an extraordinary scene. The entire court appeared to be littered entirely with Miss Granger’s small notes.”

Harry smiled, imagining the scene.

“About a week later, the second round of trials began. We all attended again, almost expectant of the fun we would have watching the proceedings.

“It was quickly apparent that it wasn’t going to be quite the same, though.”

“How so?” asked Harry.

“Miss Granger didn’t turn up that time, but her notes did. Unfortunately, from then onwards, her advice was being given for the benefit of the prosecutors.”

6. Seagull Pie

A Place of Contemplation

by Jardyn39

Chapter 6: Seagull Pie

“What? No,” said Harry weakly. “Hermione wouldn’t do that.”

“I agree it was most uncharacteristic, certainly. Unfortunately, I haven’t seen her in person since.”

“Who has?”

“Molly was utterly convinced that Stein somehow influenced her. Minerva thought-”

“Had she been protected?” interrupted Harry. “I mean, Hermione was obviously an important part of the Order’s defence.”

Snape hesitated before saying, “Yes. Ron Weasley volunteered to stay with her. In retrospect, of course, this may have been unfortunate.

“At the time, Kingsley was wanted but actually hadn’t been apprehended then. He tracked Ron down to demand to know what happened to her. Kingsley was arrested shortly after but he claimed that Ron denied seeing her at all that night, saying she had sent him away while she did her research.”

“So, where is she now?”

“My point is, Ron Weasley lied. He later claimed that Miss Granger discovered evidence that proved the Order was involved in serious illegal activity. It was, apparently, her conscience and civic duty required her to ensure the guilty were brought to justice.”

“And?”

“It’s getting late. We’ll lose the best of the morning if we don’t make a start.”

As Harry followed Snape along the path from the cottage, he imagined the smoking pair of boots that he intended to be all that remained of Snape after their morning session.

*

They spent the morning practicing duelling on the beach before walking back up to the cottage for some lunch.

The physical exertions of the morning had calmed Harry by then, and he was feeling a little more reflective.

“Brooke, Mrs Weasley’s cousin, doesn’t know, does he?”

“No. Molly decided that if he was to keep you in the dark and for you not to become suspicious about what’s been happening, then he couldn’t know.”

“She pretended that everything was fine?”

“Yes,” Snape said sadly. “She has spent more time with them than she has for several years, I believe. I suspect having the children to fuss over took away part of the pain.”

“I can’t believe she was able to keep it up for so long.”

“Molly is an incredibly strong woman, but I agree it is remarkable. Had circumstances permitted it, the first place she would have gone for comfort would have been her cousin’s.”

Harry nodded.

“Molly has been extraordinarily motivated these past few months,” continued Snape, his voice containing none of its usual waspishness. “I’m quite convinced her efforts have saved lives, more than just her own children’s. Her priority has been to keep the remainder of you alive to fight another day.”

They arrived at the cottage and Harry sat on a broken stone wheel that had once been used to make flour.

Harry stared out to the horizon. It was clearer today, and he could see far out to sea.

He really couldn’t imagine how difficult it must have been for Mrs Weasley.

Not only did she have to contend with the Ministry and her personal losses, she also had to pretend to her non-magical family that everything, no everyone, was fine.

He remembered Brooke’s friendly enquiry about them and her response. Her emotions must have been unbearable, but she had maintained all that façade for him.

*

Snape carried a large wooden cutting board outside upon which was their lunch of bread and cheese.

“You are already nearly as strong as you were,” complimented Snape, handing him some bread to tear himself off a piece.

“It’s the atmosphere here, I think. Will I lose my strength when we leave? It was rather different the last time I was here.”

“No, at least, that wasn’t my experience. I believe the fact that you have retained your knowledge of the spells and curses has helped you, though. If it had been much longer, you would have had more difficulties.”

Harry nodded.

“What did happen the last time you were here?” asked Snape tentatively.

Harry shrugged and said, “Dumbledore trained me constantly for almost my entire Sixth Year, until one night in early May.

“We had been tracking each other throughout the night, laying ambushes, fighting skirmishes. You know the kind of thing. This particular night, Dumbledore said we could engage each other anywhere in the castle, out in the grounds and in the Forbidden Forest. He also said there was no limit to the spells and curses that either of us could use, including the Unforgivable Curses.”

“I didn’t know you actually used those.”

“Well, I didn’t,” admitted Harry. “But it was important that I learned to defend myself against them.”

Snape nodded, and Harry continued.

“It was quite clear, from our very first encounter that night, that he meant business. He didn’t pull back at all.

“After I’d managed to get away, just, things went pretty well. I caught and duelled with him three times in the castle and twice in the forest. We were about even at that point.

“The final time was out in the grounds, by the lake. I caught him trying to sneak past me whilst invisible. He was trying to attack me from behind again.

“Anyway, we began our duel. It lasted longer than ever. He just wouldn’t yield to me at all, and whenever I let up even slightly for fear I was going to hurt him, he’d attack in a frenzy.”

Harry paused.

“What happened then?”

“Er, I beat him. I honestly thought I’d killed him. He was so still, lying on the grass like that. I’d kicked his wand away, of course, and I had him covered in case he was faking, except, he wasn’t,” Harry finished weakly.

“It was some time before I was able to revive him. He had the most terrible burns down one side. He must have been in agony. I tried to get him up to the hospital wing, but he refused. Fortunately Madam Pomfrey came charging out of the castle to see to him. I suspect she’d been waiting for one of us to get seriously hurt for ages. She was rather shocked to see it wasn’t me.

“Once he had recovered a little, he insisted upon bringing me here. We arrived at the jetty before dawn.

“The thing is, it was ages before he told me why he’d brought me here. I got most of it from those stupid birds.”

“He wanted the island to temper you,” said Snape wisely.

“Yes. I was quite annoyed with him at the time. I didn’t like being thought of as some kind of weapon. He was right, though, as usual. The magic here changed me, and it changed the way I fought. I’m not sure what it was, but it gave me something.”

“Actually, I think that’s wrong,” said Snape gently. “The island took something away, not the other way around. It was quite noticeable, as soon as you returned. I just didn’t realise why.”

“What?”

“Well, you were so much calmer. I saw you in at least three life threatening situations after that, and you never once lost your head. You survived because you thought and reasoned your way through.”

Harry shrugged.

“Indeed,” continued Snape with a small smile, “it was more noticeable whenever I insulted you. I had to work much harder to make you show how angry you were after that.”

Harry rolled his eyes and they sat in silence for a few moments. He knew full well that Snape had been waiting for the island to have the same effect again before he told him too much more about what had happened.

“Tell me, do you always have such dreams?”

Harry looked up, raising his eyebrows.

“You cried out a couple of times, that’s all.”

Harry shrugged and said, “Yes. I generally have only two dreams these days. The Voldemort one and, well, another.”

“I got the impression you were reliving the defeat of the Dark Lord last night.”

Harry frowned, wondering if Snape had read his thoughts.

“No, don’t be concerned,” said Snape, “your Occlumency skills are as strong as ever. I just heard you shouting.”

Harry nodded, feeling reassured. It was important to him that the Occlumency he’d finally mastered thanks to Dumbledore’s teaching was in tact. Quite apart from his wish to keep Snape outside his head, it was now a matter of pride for him not to forget Dumbledore’s teachings.

“Yes and no,” continued Harry. “I do relive that, but it is a nightmare made up of all my experiences with him. Back in my First Year, I thought I remembered a green light from the night my parents were killed. I had nightmares about that then, and I still do. In the same way, I still hear my mother’s voice the moment before he killed her. The Dementors made me remember that.”

Snape nodded.

After a while, Snape said tentatively, “You appeared to be having a conversation at one point. It was jumbled, but you mentioned Hermione’s name a couple of times.”

Harry nodded sadly.

“That was when I told Ron why I was really leaving. That’s part of my second nightmare.”

“So, Ron has always known?”

“Yes.”

“Did Hermione?”

“I couldn’t tell her.”

“Interesting.”

Harry looked up.

“Tell me about Hermione,” demanded Harry. “What has become of her?”

“First, tell me about Ron Weasley’s reaction when you told him. When was that, by the way?”

Harry considered Snape before answering. Clearly, he was avoiding telling Harry about Hermione, but he couldn’t know what Harry had told Ron, could he?

“I told Ron the morning of our Graduation. He visited me in hospital. He was bouncing off the walls and the ceiling with optimism. He’d just heard that the Ministry had given him a job with good prospects. He said Percy had called in a few favours, but Ron’s involvement with the defeat of Voldemort sealed things for him. He kept talking about the money he would get and what he would spend it on.

“When he calmed down enough, I congratulated him properly, and told him I was planning on going away for a while. I told him that as I couldn’t do magic anymore, I needed to make my way elsewhere. I also said it would be a nice change to get away from the attentions of the press for a while, and he appeared to accept that.”

Harry paused, collecting his thoughts.

“He was about to leave when I decided I owed him the entire truth. He was my best friend after all. I called Ron back a moment. I think he thought I was going to ask him to bring my dress robes for the graduation ceremony, or something. He was certainly shocked by what I told him.”

“Indeed?”

“Yes.”

“His own love life was a little complicated then, wasn’t it?”

“I had no idea who he was going out with most of the time, then. I vaguely recall him being hooked up with Luna again for a while, but while I was in hospital things must have changed again.”

“No, surely he was going out with Hermione all through that period.”

“Well, they were kind of on and off, as I recall. It was certainly off during Hermione’s exams and all her revision. I remember Ron complaining. I barely managed to say Hello to her without getting my head bitten off after Easter. You know how important those exams were to her.”

At these words, Snape turned his head slightly, as if thinking something through.

“Actually, I do remember Ron and Luna visiting me in the hospital once, and they were all over each other.”

Snape frowned now and said, “During the Graduation tea, I was there when Minerva spoke with Hermione. I’m sure that she implied that they were going out then.”

“Well, like I said, I was out of touch.”

“Very well, Potter. Now, what was it that Ron Weasley reacted so strongly to?”

“I’m not sure I want to answer that.”

“No, really?” Snape responded sarcastically. “I’ve already heard almost half the conversation, remember?”

“Tell me about Hermione,” demanded Harry.

Snape sighed.

“Miss Hermione Granger is currently one of the most feared witches in the wizarding world.”

“They didn’t marry? I thought that was Ron’s intention.”

“No, although they are still a couple in public,” answered Snape, unable to hide his surprise about Harry’s first question about what he’d just said.

Harry realised he had probably betrayed his feelings and hurried to ask, “Why is she feared?”

“She was formidable when she graduated, but now she has developed her powers. She is the Minister’s public enforcer.”

“Why hasn’t the Wizengamot acted?”

“The Wizengamot no longer has any authority. The Ministry conducted tribunals behind closed doors and verdicts and punishments were handed down for the Wizengamot to rubber stamp. Most of its members resigned in protest, and from then on the Ministry didn’t bother.”

“But what is Hermione’s role supposed to be in all this? Is she still providing legal advice to the prosecutors?”

“That is unknown. The speculation was, before I lost contact with the Order, that they may have had slips of paper with her handwriting on them, but they never used them while the trails were still public. For all we know, they could have been her shopping lists.”

“Or pleas for help,” Harry suggested darkly.

“Well,” said Snape hesitantly, “that still wouldn’t account for her reputation. She is supposed to be responsible for some of the worst torture conducted by the Ministry. Even mention of her name is enough to have people confessing to anything they are asked about.”

“Reputations aren’t necessarily true,” argued Harry. “Look at mine and even yours. I will continue to believe Hermione utterly incapable of torturing anyone,” unless she’s nagging you about your homework, he thought.

Snape shrugged.

“So, who has her under an Imperious curse?”

“You are that certain she wouldn’t act under her own volition?”

“Yes! How many more times?”

“Well,” considered Snape, “you may have guessed correctly. Molly is convinced as well, except that Hermione does not act nor converse, like someone under an Imperious curse. It is probably some other form of control.”

“When did Mrs Weasley see her?”

“I believe it was at one of the Ministry Receptions, but the last time was a few months ago.”

“Where does she live now? I mean, could we pay her a visit?”

“I have no idea where she lives. It is probably very well protected anyway.”

“True. So, one of these Receptions, then?”

“Why do I suspect you are about to suggest something reckless?”

Harry snorted.

“You know, we always blamed you for everything at school. Hermione was the only one to stick up for you.”

“In that case, I owe her my gratitude. I’d rather thank her while she isn’t under another’s influence, if you don’t mind?”

Harry grinned at him.

“Should we contact Molly first?”

“We’ll have to be careful. That may be dangerous for her. We certainly shouldn’t go to the Burrow.”

“Right,” agreed Harry.

“I happen to know where she’ll be tomorrow, though. Fortunately, she knows many people willing to risk helping her in small ways. Tomorrow she’ll be visiting a place where an old school friend of hers works. The place should be secure for us to visit.”

“Can we call upon anyone else for help?”

“Let’s allow Molly to advise us on that. The initial move should be ours alone, though. We may not have entirely lost the element of surprise, so long as everyone believes you cannot perform magic.”

Harry nodded.

“If the worst happens, will you be prepared to kill?”

“No, I have no intention of killing anybody.”

“Dumbledore would be proud, I’m sure,” Snape commented dryly. “Remember this is a little different from last time,” he added earnestly. “You aren’t linked with whoever is behind all this, and there’s certainly no Prophecy that I’m aware of.”

“I stopped believing in Prophecies when mine came true,” quipped Harry with a smile.

“You still can’t see what they are seeing, though, can you? Look, whoever is responsible for all this has clearly learned from the Dark Lord’s mistakes. They had almost immediate control over practically the entire magical community through the Ministry and the first thing they did was remove the only creditable threat, which was the Order.

“We cannot afford to be flippant about this. There are too few of us left.”

Harry decided to brighten the mood.

“Hey, come on. It’s my turn to cook dinner. What do you fancy?”

“Seagull Pie,” responded Snape, with an evil look up towards the cliffs.

“That’ll teach those damn birds to talk to me like that.”

7. The Resistance

A Place of Contemplation

by Jardyn39

Chapter 7: The Resistance

They Apparated directly into the female changing rooms at, “Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions,” in Diagon Alley.

“Potter, open your eyes,” ordered Snape testily.

“Leave Harry alone, Severus.”

Harry opened his eyes to see Mrs Weasley hugging Snape. She quickly moved on to him.

“Oh, Harry, thank you for coming. Are you fully recovered? Are you really sure you want to do this now?”

“I’m fine, thanks to you.”

Harry’s face grew suddenly serious as he said, “Mrs Weasley, I’m so sorry about Mr Weasley and Bill. I wish I’d known before.”

She tried to respond, but somehow all she could do was fall back into his embrace and cry quietly into his shoulder. It was as if she could hold everything back only as long as she knew, or at least pretended, that Harry didn’t know.

Even Snape appeared emotional, clearly feeling her pain, placing a reassuring hand gently on her shoulder before leaving the small room to check the store was secure.

They stood for a long moment, before Mrs Weasley pushed herself away and dabbed her eyes.

“You’re just in time,” she said thickly. “There’s a lunchtime Reception and all the family has been ordered to attend.”

“Ordered?”

“Yes, dear. It’s how it is now. Fred, George and Charlie are waiting for me in the front of the shop. They usually get arrested after and interrogated, but they have always let them go again afterwards. This time might be longer, because they suspect you visited the Burrow.”

Mrs Weasley was trying to make light of the things she was saying, but her voice was wavering and betraying her real emotions.

“The Reception is at the Ministry?” asked Harry, already thinking how they could get in undetected.

“No, dear. They have a new building just along the street. It’s only a short walk from here.”

Mrs Weasley tapped Harry on the head with the tip of her wand and muttered an incantation.

Instantly his hair grew longer and red in colour. Looking in the changing room mirror, Harry smiled to see him looking every bit a Weasley. His scar was nicely concealed as well.

“There, dear. One more redhead won’t be noticed. It will change back to normal later.”

“How shall I get in?” asked Snape, coming back into the changing room.

“Here, you have an actual invitation, I’m afraid. It was delivered to me, so they must know about our meetings as well. Harry, please give Severus your wand.”

He did so.

“Now, Harry. Please don’t perform magic until you really have to. Also, don’t deny who you are if challenged. Just say you are Harry Potter and you are a member of the Weasley family. That will get you through any outer checkpoints.

“The most important thing is for you not to draw attention to yourself. Watch how others behave and try to copy them. Look nobody in the eye. Converse only with those you know and never allow yourself to be overheard. When you have to speak to strangers, give only the minimum information possible.”

Harry was a little stunned, but nodded in understanding. Fortunately, however, Mrs Weasley had described almost exactly his preferred method of travelling on London’s public transport buses.

*

As they walked down Diagon Alley towards the new featureless black marble building that dominated the entire area, Harry couldn’t believe how much had changed.

Gone were the happy throngs of shoppers. Now people hurried along, scared to be caught out in the open.

When he had stepped out of the changing rooms, Harry had been confident that his three Weasley friends waiting for their mother would jump at the chance to help. He had been quite shocked by the state he found them in.

They appeared to be shocked by his sudden reappearance as well.

They greeted him in a friendly enough way, but fear was written into their features. They bore the marks of many interrogations, and clearly they dreaded what would inevitably happen to them later.

There were no jokes about his new hair from the twins. Indeed, Harry could hardly tell they were twins now. Fred walked with a limp and George had burn scars around his neck, but it was far more than just the physical changes.

Fred and George had rarely needed to talk much in order to know the other’s thoughts. Now, though, Harry felt that level communication was gone.

Charlie trailed behind them, his head held low. Harry could hardly believe that someone who used to work with dragons was afraid to look him in the eye. Then he realised. Charlie was afraid to look anybody in the eye now.

Ahead, two watch wizards stood guard outside the impressive entrance.

Harry watched as a small group of guests entered the building which appeared to throw everything else into shadow.

“Where has Gringotts gone?”

“The new building was built on top of Gringotts bank, Harry,” advised Mrs Weasley quietly. “The Ministry has been fighting for ages to get into the vaults. In the end they just built over the whole bank to ensure no one escaped. You can see its much bigger than the bank was.”

“They actually got into the vaults?” Harry asked, suddenly concerned about his own magical possessions which were all deposited in Gringotts.

“Well, we’re not too sure. We know the Goblins put up quite a fight. The rumour is that they are still fighting underground, but the last official announcement was that the siege of the bank hadn’t been breached yet.”

Harry looked up at the imposing building. There were no windows, that he could see. There looked like there was a balcony overlooking the street at the Second Floor or so, but that was all. Harry looked to the sides and realised that the shops adjacent to the new building looked like they had been squashed up to make room, their shopfronts now being all distorted.

Harry suddenly realised.

“Ollivander’s has gone!” he said in disbelief.

“That’s right, dear,” said Mrs Weasley. “Everyone has to obtain their wand from the Ministry now. It’s the law. Well, those that qualify can buy them, anyway. The Ministry felt that wands should not be available to everybody.”

He stared at the boarded up shop as they passed, wondering what had happened to Mr Ollivander.

Harry steeled himself as they approached the guards.

They didn’t pay them the slightest attention. Harry guessed that not too many uninvited guests dared to venture inside this particular building.

They passed down a long wide corridor. Portraits were hung on either side and their occupants glowered at them as they passed by.

Occasionally there were open doors. Harry peered inside as they passed, mentally assessing the number and strength of the security guards. There were certainly many, judging from the rows of benches and tables.

As they passed one door, one of the guards just inside noticed him looking and reached out to grab Harry.

“Why are you being so nosey? What’s your name?” he asked aggressively.

“Weasley,” replied Harry threateningly, deciding not to use his real name just yet.

The guard looked over and saw a nervous looking Mrs Weasley and several redheads.

He blanched and released Harry at once, spluttering an apology.

“What’s your name?” demanded Harry. “Ron will be so interested.”

The guard started shaking now, and made a hurried excuse to leave.

Harry had to be shoved by Mrs Weasley to get him moving again. Harry couldn’t believe the reaction that Ron’s name had produced. Something was very wrong here.

They then came to a table with two bored looking guards standing either side of it. On the silk covered table top was a large bowl with coins inside. A small sign explained that all proceeds would go to a Ministry charity for the benefit of loyal pureblood families.

“Donations entirely voluntary,” read the sign.

Harry seethed reading the sign, and he was about to kick over the table when Snape grabbed his arm painfully.

Mrs Weasley placed a few Sickles in the bowl and said clearly, “From the loyal Weasley family.”

A quill shot across a scroll of paper next to the bowl, recording her contribution.

As they moved on, Snape dragged Harry past.

Harry shook himself free and looked back. Another small group was at the donation bowl now. One of them was being lead away by a guard. Obviously, their voluntary donation hadn’t been good enough.

Eventually they exited into a great hall, draped in black silk hangings. Along two long sides were long tables, laden with food and delicacies. Along the back was another table with drinks.

As Harry passed he made to pick up a couple of glasses.

Mrs Weasley grabbed his arm and whispered urgently, “No, Harry, dear. Not until we have permission.”

Harry frowned. He had assumed they would blend in better with a glass in hand, but he realised that everyone else was standing around empty handed, and looking distinctly nervous.

Harry looked around. Snape was nowhere to be seen. He assumed he had concealed himself amongst the gathering crowd.

A middle aged woman sidled up to them and said, out of the corner of her mouth, “Hello, Molly. They say they’ve caught him. It’s about to be announced.”

“Caught who?” asked Mrs Weasley.

“Longbottom of course, the Resistance leader!”

“Goodness!” cried Mrs Weasley, genuinely shocked.

The woman eyed Harry suspiciously.

“This is Harry, Gladys. It’s his first time here. He’s visiting from the country.”

Gladys appeared to brighten at once.

“Oh, you must come and see properly.”

She grabbed his arm and led him almost to the front of the crowd and then pulled him off to the side.

“Sometimes the Minister likes to be introduced to new people,” she said excitedly.

“The Minister will be here?”

“Perhaps. Actually, he hasn’t appeared for a while.”

“How often do you come?”

“Nowadays our invitations come around once a fortnight. It’s so nice of them to go to so much trouble for us.”

She sounded quite terrified.

“We are only too happy to attend, of course. I say we, but I’m on my own today. My husband, Charles, hasn’t been released from last time yet. Of course, I’m not complaining,” she added quickly, perhaps mindful that Harry might be an informant.

The crowd began murmuring and Harry watched as four guards dragged someone through the crowd, before throwing him bodily at the front of the hall, a few feet in front of the closed doors. The guards withdrew.

Neville was chained with his hands tied behind his back and his legs tied at his knees and ankles. His face and shirt were soaked with fresh blood.

He was still for a long moment and the crowd gave a collective gasp when he began to move.

Neville pulled himself into a ball and rolled over onto his knees. With a great effort. He hoisted himself up, looking around with contempt.

He spat onto the highly polished floor.

Neville looked around again, and this time his and Harry’s eyes met for just a moment. Neither reacted in any way.

At that moment the great pair of doors at the front of the hall opened. Guards streamed out and took up positions either side of the door. All of them had their wands in hand.

The crowd held its breath as a lone figure walked confidently out towards Neville.

He stretched his arms out in welcome and said loudly, “Neville! How nice of you to drop by!”

Neville swore at him.

“We’ve been looking forward to having you join us. Still, so long as you’ve had your fun, that’s the main thing.”

“Others will continue to resist you!” shouted Neville angrily.

“Really? Well, perhaps. But not from your group, eh?” he added with a grin. “Don’t be too hard on them, Neville. That reward money must have been awfully tempting. Mind you, I was genuinely surprised at how many remained loyal to you, even right up to the end.”

“Get it over with,” demanded Neville.

“No, my boy,” Stein assured him menacingly. “It won’t be over for a while, I’m afraid. You have much to tell us first. When it is the end, of course, we’ll just have to invite a certain Miss Weasley to witness the momentous event, won’t we?”

“She’s alive?”

Stein laughed a cold, high, unnaturally emotionless laugh that chilled Harry to the quick.

He knew who his true adversary was now.

It was impossible, but somehow Voldemort had returned yet again.

Harry felt another surge of guilt that he had left his friends and the entire magical community to suffer at his mercy.

Stein made a small signal with his fingers.

Four of the guards standing behind him moved forward and dragged a struggling Neville out through the great doors. The remaining guards moved forward towards the back of the hall, winding their way through the guests.

Harry guessed they would pick out and detain those people they had orders to interrogate.

“Friends,” said Stein, addressing the crowd, his arms outstretched once more, “thank you for coming. Please partake of the food and drink provided for your enjoyment.

“I understand that the Ministry wishes to interview one or two of you. I know that with your help and continued loyalty, our community will continue to grow strong, without interference and contamination from less worthy influences.

“You will be glad to know that our land and property reforms are continuing well. Many of you will shortly be provided with leases for confiscated properties, as part of our ongoing land redistribution programme. It has taken a little longer than we planned to remove or subjugate the existing occupants in some isolated instances.

“Well, I must return to my duties. I would very much like to have the time to talk to you individually, but the siege is at a critical stage.

“Please forgive me, and enjoy yourselves for the remainder of the evening.”

Stein gave a short bow and the audience immediately began clapping him loudly.

He turned and marched out back through the great doors. He was alone now, and Harry was determined to follow and confront him. He didn’t have his wand, but Snape was still nowhere to be seen.

Gladys made an audible gasp when she saw where Harry was headed.

Fortunately she was too shocked to do anything else.

Harry slipped through the pair of enormous doors just before they closed with a dull thunk.

*

Harry paused on the other side of the doors.

Stein had gone.

Harry listened for a moment, but everything was quiet. He decided to continue down the long corridor, towards a single door that was larger than the other doors and elaborately decorated.

He caught his reflection in a gilt edged mirror and started, unused to seeing himself with long red hair. Almost at once, Mrs Weasley’s charm dispersed and he found himself looking at his usual untidy black hair.

Harry proceeded along the corridor, listening at each closed door, but hearing nothing.

Something made him pause at one door about halfway along the long corridor. He tried the gold handle, and found the door was unlocked. Harry slipped inside and closed the door quietly.

Harry fought his immediate feeling of nausea. He wasn’t sure if the smell of burning skin or the sight before him was worse.

He quickly stepped over to the interrogation chair which contained the room’s only occupant. The goblin was clearly dead. Horrendous burns covered one arm and most of his chest. Blood covered his face, hands and feet. A small stainless steel bowl at the side contained the goblin’s fingers and toes.

Harry reached for a white cloth draped over a nearby chair and laid in gently over the goblin’s head and upper body.

He knew he shouldn’t leave any sign that he’d been there, and could almost hear Snape’s reprimand.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t bear the sight of the goblin’s lifeless eyes, it was a sign of respect.

Harry vowed silently to avenge this act of appalling cruelty, and then made to leave the room when he noticed another door across the room.

Harry went over and listened before silently opening the door.

A young man was sitting with his back towards him, dictating his report to a magical quill that was darting across a scroll on his desk. He was casually wiping blood off his hands as he spoke.

“Conclusion. As suspected, this junior ranking goblin, name unknown, was able to provide no useful information but the interrogation was continued to again gather statistics on pain and endurance information on this species.

“Recommendation. The head will be removed and displayed at a location to be determined by the siege commander and the body is hereby authorised for disposal.”

Harry stepped forward.

“Report completed by- Hey, who are you? Argh!”

Harry left the room quietly, the quill quivering but now standing at a stationary point on the scroll.

8. The Siege

A Place of Contemplation

by Jardyn39

Chapter 8: The Siege

He had almost got the end of the corridor, when echoing voices reached him. Harry dived behind a column at the side and waited for them to pass. He heard a door slam, and again there was silence.

Harry was about to move further down the corridor, when a flying memo fluttered past his ear. He turned to watch as the memo dived into a small hole above a door back where he’d come from. He doubled back to the door on the other side.

Opening the door cautiously, he realised the inside of the room was dark, but he could hear distant voices. He entered and closed the door quickly.

Another memo entered the room and dived down a pipe protruding at the far end of the room. Shrouded in darkness, Harry approached the long balustrade along one side of the room. He crouched down and peered through the balusters.

He appeared to be on a balcony, looking down onto an enormous operations room.

On the wall opposite, Harry could see a central tapestry lit from behind by many lanterns, that looked like a cross sectional map that rotated slowly, highlighting certain areas with moving symbols. It took a moment to realise he was looking at a three dimensional representation of the tunnels under Gringotts bank.

Either side were smaller tapestries, with changing lists of text. They looked like situation reports and troop movements.

Harry peered down. On the floor of the room, far below, were rows and rows of desks, all manned. Memos flew wildly just above their heads.

He was just straining to see what was immediately below, when Harry heard a door opening. He ducked down quickly, afraid he was about to be discovered.

“Well, Commander, what do you have to report?”

Harry looked around and realised the voice must have come from an adjacent balcony. He crept closer to listen.

“The operation can begin at any time, but we will need a further hour to get all the trolls angry enough.”

“An hour is acceptable. You may begin when ready.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Harry didn’t recognise either voice.

“Everything is proceeding to plan? They have no idea what is about to happen?”

“No, Sir. We are sure. We got the Giants in place in the East tunnels last night. The calming charms worked perfectly. There was no noise to warn of their arrival at all. They will wake in a howling temper though.”

“Well, that’s the idea. Those stinking goblins won’t know what hit them.”

“Yes, Sir. Are you sure we need the trolls as well? You know we’ve got no control over them at all, even less than the Giants.”

“Are you prepared to tell his Lordship his plan is flawed?”

“Um, No! I didn’t mean to suggest anything like that!” exclaimed the Commander, with genuine fear in his voice.

“I thought not. There shouldn’t be a problem provided we have enough men to kill the trolls afterwards as well as pick off any remaining pockets of resistance.”

“What about the Giants?”

“They will kill each other, no doubt, when there aren’t enough goblins and trolls to go around. The few that remain should not prove too difficult to contain.”

“We could have a lot of casualties, though.”

“An acceptable level of casualties, yes.”

The Commander hesitated before asking, “Are you sure we are only going to find goblins down there?”

There was an audible sigh before the other said, “I really don’t care. If there are dragons, the trolls and giants will face them first. I would remind you we have yet to discover any evidence of dragons down there, have we? All there have been are traps and deceits so far.”

“Those traps and deceits have caused us significant casualties. I lost my best division last week, and we still don’t really know what the goblin numbers are.”

“All the more reason to end this siege now we have the means. They may be clever, but the goblins won’t be a match for the shear mindless brutality that we are about to send into the tunnels.”

“I’m more worried about what will happen when that shear mindless brutality realises they have been betrayed again,” said the Commander in an undertone.

“Just keep thinking about the gold in those vaults.”

“Yes, Sir,” the Commander replied dryly, possibly thinking that he was unlikely to see much gold for all the efforts of his men.

“Good. Proceed as ordered, Commander. I will inform his Lordship later. He has left orders not to be disturbed for the present.”

“Sir!” said a new voice.

“Yes, Lieutenant?” said the Commander. It sounded like the senior wizard had left as a door was opened and closed again.

“I’ve increased the number of men guarding the bridge, but there still aren’t enough.”

“His Lordship wanted more men for the Reception. You will have to make do with the men you have, Lieutenant.”

“But, Sir,” pleaded the Lieutenant. “If the barricade fails, the trolls will come right back at us!”

Harry looked down at the map again, trying to identify where the bridge and barricade were. The map rotated and an area was highlighted in red. Harry tried desperately to memorise the map, but he realised this would be impossible. The goblin tunnels were designed to be impossible to navigate.

He realised he needed someone who knew the tunnels.

He crept towards the door, intending to follow the Lieutenant. Harry reached for his pocket, and only then realised he was missing his wand. Snape still had it, and he hadn’t thought to grab the torturer’s wand.

Harry cursed to himself silently before exiting. He straightened up and hid himself behind the deep door reveal. His options were limited without a wand, but he had retained his Legilimency skilled even without his magic. Hopefully, his stay at the island had focussed those skills too.

The Lieutenant exited and proceeded at a pace down the corridor. Harry closed his eyes and concentrated.

The Lieutenant slowed as he succumbed to Harry’s influence. Fortunately, the Lieutenant was too distracted to resist as his memory was modified.

He turned around as Harry stepped out from the doorway.

“Ah, there you are,” said the Lieutenant. “The Commander said I’d find you waiting for me. Follow me,” he ordered, “we are going to the bridge.”

Harry nodded and hurried to follow the hapless Lieutenant.

As they descended the steep stone stairs that lead from another doorway, Harry wondered if he was doing the right thing.

Stein could wait, but Harry knew that he was taking quite a risk with Neville’s well-being by trying to assist the goblins now. Harry knew that Neville would be tortured for information, but Stein had wanted him kept alive and the goblins sounded like they were in trouble.

He didn’t know what he could do in just an hour, but Harry was utterly determined to help if he could.

*

The Lieutenant ushered Harry through each of the security checkpoints. Fortunately the guards were somewhat distracted by the preparations to end the siege. Men and summoned materials were hurrying to their positions.

As they marched, Harry was struggling to interrogate the Lieutenant’s mind as well as discover the weaknesses of the bridge.

In the end he compelled the Lieutenant to remember in his mind the route Harry would need to take to get back out of the tunnels.

At the same time he got the Lieutenant to tell him verbally about the bridge.

“We can access the bridge from a rope ladder down into the chamber from just up here.”

They reached a small opening and Harry gasped seeing the size of the cavern that stretched out in front of him.

The Lieutenant grabbed hold of a rusty iron handle fixed to the rough stone wall, and proceeded to climb down the ladder.

Harry grabbed the handle and looked over the edge.

Far below a narrow looking stone bridge crossed a deep chasm. There was a glow of red lava deep down. On the far end was a large barricade that looked like it was on fire.

“Where the hell did they come from?” cried the Lieutenant from a few feet below.

Harry looked again and smiled. The goblins did have dragons. Two enormous red dragons were taking turns to attack the barricade.

Harry hurried down the ladder.

“Why haven’t you just blown the bridge?” shouted Harry.

“We can’t! This is the only access across for miles. The goblins have been trying to destroy it for months!”

Harry reached a ledge and joined the Lieutenant about halfway down. He was surveying the battle.

“Good, they’ve killed one dragon and the other is falling back.”

Harry barely hid his disappointment.

“What are those shields?” he asked, pointing at the still smoking barricade.

“We got them from the Giants,” replied the Lieutenant with a grin. “They are mostly dragon hide, but incredibly strong and durable from the attack side. They are special in that somehow the Giants know how to make them and still have the hide retain the dragon’s magical protection. They will never burn they way through!”

“This side looks fairly flimsy though,” commended Harry, looking at the extraordinary arrangement of scaffolding that supported them.

“Well, it has been difficult to reinforce them. The goblins have been sending some other nasty surprises that have killed everyone who climbs in there.”

“What are they using?”

“We don’t know yet. They are too small to see in this poor light. I’m hoping it won’t matter shortly. Come on! We have to be in position before they release the trolls!”

The Lieutenant was scurrying down the lower part of the ladder.

Harry crouched down, deciding what to do. The barricade didn’t look too strong, provided he could survive long enough in amongst the scaffolding. He could see now why the Lieutenant was so worried about holding the bridge.

On the far side, where the barricade faced, there was a wide flat approach. If the trolls charged along there, their natural path would be to continue down and along the bridge. They needed the barricade to divert the flow of the charge further along another path that was a slight incline.

He immediately abandoned his plan to destroy the bridge, deciding to take down the barricade instead.

Harry climbed down the ladder, but paused to give the Lieutenant an idea.

“You!” shouted the Lieutenant. “Go and reinforce the barricade! Now!”

“Yes, Sir!” shouted Harry jumping off the bottom of the ladder and ran through the bridge guards who were cowing behind any debris they could find.

*

The barricade was manned by only a few guards, although many more were dead at their posts and still burning.

No one tried to stop him as Harry climbed into the darkness under the scaffold.

There was a scream from somewhere above, and suddenly a body crashed through the scaffolding. Harry grabbed then man’s wand and conjured water to douse the flames.

Harry checked the man’s pulse. He was dead.

The shields ahead were now glowing red hot and smoking as the remaining dragon resumed its attack.

Harry quickly examined the structure supporting the shields. These were little more than thin timber buttresses and a light framework tied together with rope. Like most wizard constructions, it looked very unstable.

He was about to begin blasting, when he through he saw a quick movement at the corner of his eye.

Then he remembered. Something was down here with him. It must have been whatever the goblins had sent to stop the barricade from being reinforced.

Harry looked around.

“Lumos!” he whispered.

The light beam only just caught the dark outline before it vanished.

“Friends,” said Harry. “I’ve come to help the goblins. I’m going to take this barricade down. Take cover. Warn the goblins that trolls and giants are about to come into the tunnels if you can.”

A head popped out from behind an odd shaped timber.

“You lie!” hissed the snake.

“They’re coming!” cried a distant voice and it sounded like the dragon’s attack had paused, presumably having noticed movement along the path.

Harry grinned and pointed his borrowed wand straight at one of the cross supports.

“Reducto!” he shouted at the top of his voice. The dry timbers exploded into dust.

Several snakes dropped down through the gaps between the scaffolds and disappeared down small burrows in the ground.

The structure lurched violently as Harry continued to aim and fire as fast as he could.

Finally, the barricade fell forwards in one, just in time for him to see the dragon being clubbed by the hoard of Mountain Trolls.

“No!” shouted Harry, levitating the remaining barricade timbers and rocks that were strewn around him, and hurling them at the trolls.

It took a while before the trolls appeared to notice him, but they charged as soon as they did.

With no time to see how the dragon was faring, Harry ran back across the now deserted bridge. The Lieutenant had called his remaining men back to the other side of the bridge at the mouth of a large tunnel opening.

Harry reached the ladder and began to climb, just as the first of the charging trolls entered the tunnel. He tried to pocket the wand, but in his haste he missed and it fell uselessly.

Cursing his clumsiness, Harry climbed up. He couldn’t risk retrieving it, now that hundreds of rampaging trolls were in the main tunnels.

Harry hurried to retrace his steps along the path that the Lieutenant had remembered for him. Fortunately there were no guards on sentry duty now, having presumably fled.

*

He got back to the corridor and stepped out onto the plush carpet once again. The silence and serenity of this corridor was a complete contrast to the chaos in the tunnels below.

As he walked past, Harry resisted the temptation to look in on the operations room again. He wondered if they even knew yet.

Another door urgent and two junior officer guards ran out and down the corridor, totally ignoring him. They looked a little preoccupied.

“You can’t just go!” one said urgently, pulling the other back.

“No? Just watch me! The trolls are overrunning the tunnels and the Giants are fighting amongst themselves.”

“You mean things might not be going to plan?”

The other just snorted, as did Harry despite himself.

“You don’t think someone should tell him?”

“You can, if you want. He left instructions not to be disturbed, remember?”

“What about the Commander?”

“He had the good sense to realise he needed to be back at the Ministry.”

“Where are you going?”

“Anywhere but here. I’m not going to be around when his Lordship is looking for someone to punish!”

One man was left standing in the middle of the corridor. He appeared to be considering his options.

Just before he exited, he looked back at Harry, who was now wearing a cold, satisfied smile.

A glimmer of recognition passed across his face before he turned and followed his colleague.

*

Harry decided he was done with sneaking around.

He walked confidently down the middle of the corridor to the large ornate door at the end.

He cautiously opened the door. It wasn’t locked, and he entered the enormous room which was surrounded by high ornate stone columns. The entire room was like an indoor quadrangle, with terracotta painted walls and gold leaf decorations. The floor was covered with a plush deep green carpet.

Across the ceiling, white clouds moved lazily around a deep blue painting of the sky.

The first thing Harry saw was Stein, sitting slumped in a plain chair next to the entrance door. His eyes were half closed and he was drooling down his front. Clearly, Stein wasn’t quite the charismatic and terrifying leader is audience had been given to believe.

Harry heard something and spun around.

It sounded like a soft snort.

Harry hurried out into the centre of the room.

Sitting in a chair in front of a large ornate gold desk, was Snape. His arms were bound to the arms of the chair and his legs were each bound with ropes to the chair legs. He must have been obscured by one of the many columns.

Snape was gagged but unconscious. Harry pulled the gag off him and Snape began to revive. Harry struggled with the ropes binding him, but he was magically bound.

Harry heard another derisive snort. This one was much closer though.

He looked up.

“Harry, how nice of you to drop in.”

Harry shuddered involuntarily.

Standing behind the desk was a tall thin figure with almost white skin. Bald apart from a few strands of white bleached hair, the figure looked at him with unblinking pale red eyes.

Harry stared in disbelief; his mind utterly unable to accept was he was seeing. He knew Voldemort was possessing somebody, but this was too much.

“I was just catching up with another old friend, Harry, as you can see.”

All Harry could do was stare at the wide lipless smile and think, “No. It can’t be true. No, it can’t be.”

The figure reached down to the desk and picked up a wand with unnaturally long, thin fingers.

“Crucio!”

9. A Single Tear

A Place of Contemplation

by Jardyn39

Chapter 9: A Single Tear

“Crucio!”

Snape immediately writhed in agony, convulsing against his bonds.

“Ron, stop this!” ordered Harry.

A wide menacing smile grew across Ron’s face.

“Or what, Harry? Are you going to challenge me to a duel?”

Ron burst into manic laughter. Harry looked down to Snape and tried to read his mind. He saw the image clearly. Snape was telling him he still had Harry’s wand in his pocket. There was something else, a warning perhaps, but it wasn’t clear.

When Ron’s laughter finished, Harry was watching him with his full attention.

“I know it’s difficult, Ron, but you can fight him. Even now, it isn’t too late. Voldemort’s possessing you, somehow. You can fight this! I’m on your side!”

Ron’s features changed for a moment. For just an instant, Harry thought he saw Ron as he had been, as confusion and doubt appeared on his face.

“Harry?” he said weakly.

“Yes, Ron! Fight him!”

“Oh, but,” began the weak voice before Ron collapsed in another fit of laughter.

“Honestly, Harry! You’ll fall for anything, won’t you?”

“How did this happen?” demanded Harry, becoming angry now.

“It was so easy. In my first week of starting my new job at the Ministry, I got a promotion! All I had to do was write reports. I’m good at reports. All my reports had to go in a very special report book.”

“No! Not even Ron could be that stupid!”

“Oh, this one wasn’t quite the same as that diary, but I suppose it had the same effect in the end. I grew powerful, as you can see.”

“All I see is a poisoned fool who was once my friend.”

“You have always underestimated me, Harry. I warn you, I have all Lord Voldemort’s strengths and none of his weaknesses. I have not been obsessed with killing you, this time. I was quite content to allow you to come to me, if you dared.”

“What have you done with Hermione?”

“Don’t worry, Harry. She’ll be along shortly. She just has to deal with the Longbottom boy before his trip to Azkaban.”

Neville’s prolonged painful yell echoed through the room.

“It sounds like she’s almost finished.”

“He’s lying,” Harry thought.

Harry considered his options. He still hadn’t shown that he could do magic and he was fairly sure Snape will had his wand. Against this, he hadn’t considered fighting a wizard with Voldemort’s strength. Also, even if he managed to disable Ron, would that break whatever was controlling Hermione?

Harry realised that Ron’s use of the phrase, “the Longbottom boy,” indicated his transformation was giving him a minor identity crisis. Perhaps the two were in conflict, after all? Given the choice, Voldemort would have intended Ron’s personality and motives to be eliminated entirely.

“What’s it like, Harry?”

“What’s what like?”

“Having no magic. You must have felt so useless and helpless.”

“It’s true, I did feel that way at first. Recently, though, I have realised that you are never helpless when you have friends.”

“Friends? You discarded my friendship. What would you know about friendship?” spat Ron bitterly, exposing fang like teeth.

“That’s not true, Ron.”

“You used her and you betrayed me. Shame you lost your magic. I bet that really ruined your plans, didn’t it?”

Harry shook his head.

“Well, as a matter of fact, it very nearly ruined the Dark Lord’s plans as well!” Ron said conversationally, instantly losing all anger from his voice.

“What?”

“Oh, yes. You see, I got your job,” said Ron with a short burst of high pitched laughter. “The Dark Lord had a contingency plan to return, in the unlikely event of your defeating him. The book was intended for you.”

“Why would I have taken an administrative job? I was offered a place with the Aurors. It was the only think I’ve ever seriously considered doing.”

“Shame you lost your magic then, eh, squib?” Ron commented nastily.

“No, Ron. I was offered the job after I lost my magic.”

Anger flashed across Ron’s face as Harry remembered how Ron had tried desperately to get onto the Auror training programme.

“Well,” Ron said dangerously, “we’ll see if a magic-less Auror would have been any match for me, shall we?”

Ron jumped over the desk and Harry dived for Snape’s robes. In an instant he grabbed his wand and backed out into the middle of the quadrangle.

“What do you intend to do with that?” spat Ron contemptuously.

“I once stuck this up a troll’s nose, remember?”

“True, Harry, true,” agreed Ron, before lazily saying, “Crucio!”

*

Harry dived for cover behind one of the nearer columns. Lumps of plaster and stone peppered the walls as the column exploded after the spell hit it.

“Ah, just like old times, eh? You probably feel as helpless as I once did when you used to insist upon us practicing together.”

“I seem to recall it was you who did most of the insisting, actually. You thought it would get you onto the Auror programme.”

Harry dodged another stunner.

“I still felt helpless, Harry.”

“Yes, you were pretty helpless. Hopeless, too. I remember how the five of us used to discuss how you were dragging us down. Even Luna admitted we had a point.”

A volley of killing curses followed. Harry allowed himself a small smile. If he could get Ron too angry to think straight, he would be vulnerable.

“I would have thought that you’d have been at least a little cautious, Ron.”

“Cautious?”

“Yes. I told you how I defeated Voldemort. Even if you didn’t believe me, as you claimed before, it might be prudent to at least consider my threat to you.”

“Oh, I certainly believe that you won as a result of a complete fluke. You were always lucky, Harry, I’ll give you that. As for the rest, no, I’m afraid I didn’t believe you.

“It is nonsense to suggest that it was your lack of magic that enabled you to win. I am curious to know what really happened, I admit. However, your story was merely a tall tale to make you out to be the hero again. Nothing more.

“Regrettably, Voldemort stopped contributing to the book before your encounter, so I have no memories of what actually happened.”

Harry hesitated. If he had Voldemort’s memories but none of his obsessions, Ron definitely had the advantage.

Ron fired a few more curses, making Harry dive for another column which was blown apart before he reached it. He ran for the next, knowing that Ron was just toying with him.

Harry looked up to see large cracks snaking their way across the ceiling. If enough of the columns came down, the ceiling and floor above would follow.

“So what did happen to Luna, Ron?”

“She didn’t have to die. I offered her the chance to live.”

“What did you want from her?”

“That’s my business.”

“Let me guess. Flowers, chocolates and an, “I betrayed everything I believed in,” tee shirt?”

Harry expected another instant barrage, but none came.

“No, Harry. I asked her to join me. She said yes, but only if I gave everything else up. She even said she’d stand by me while I went to Azkaban.”

“Luna was a very special person, Ron. She’d have to be to overlook the red eyes and manic laugh.”

“No, Harry. It was necessary for me to maintain my normal physical appearance for as long as possible. This is a rather recent change.”

“So what changed?”

“Never you mind. It was necessary, that’s all.”

Harry considered a further taunt about Luna, but he couldn’t help wondering what Ron had been trying to achieve. Perhaps, like Voldemort, he was experimenting with charms and potions to extend his life. If he really had all Voldemort’s memories, it would make sense that he might try the same thing again.

“I’m growing tired of your antics, Harry. When are you coming out to face me like a man?”

Harry hurled the sizeable chunk of debris he’d collected directly at Ron’s head.

Ron dived backwards in shock and tripped over his own robes, his wand flying out of his hand.

Harry jumped on him, his left hand at Ron’s throat.

“Some Dark Lord you turned out to be,” said Harry contemptuously, raising another large rock in his free fist.

“I’m sorry, Ron, I really am.”

Harry lifted his arm up, fully committed to crushing Ron’s skull with the stone.

Immediately Snape started making warning noises, struggling once again against his bonds. It sounded like his throat was being constricted.

Harry looked over to him. Snape’s eyes looked fearful and were looking the other way. Harry turned to see but felt himself hurled bodily away from Ron.

From the other side of the room, Harry scrambled to his feet, still holding his lump of debris. He dropped it at once and took out his wand again.

She was silhouetted against the open doors on the far side of the room. Harry was quite transfixed. He had longed for so long to see her; worried so much about her. She stood perfectly still, totally silently.

Ron erupted with laughter as Hermione stepped into the room. As she stepped forward, her short cloak fell to the floor, although she had made no movement to remove it.

Snape gurgled and then passed out.

“Darling, how nice of you to join us,” said Ron loudly.

Hermione stood still again, wand held loosely at her side. Her hair was unkempt but tied up out of her face. Harry was desperate to see her eyes, hoping that would give some clue as to the form of control she was under. Unfortunately, Hermione was looking away to the side.

“Harry’s here, Hermione. I’d like him to die.”

Hermione didn’t move. Perhaps she was fighting this, after all.

“Kill Potter,” ordered Ron seriously, in a perfect imitation of Voldemort’s voice. “Do it now!”

Hermione took a step to the side and moved around the room. Harry realised that she was avoiding looking at Ron’s eyes.

Harry ran forward, pointed his wand directly at Ron’s heart and shouted, “Stupefy!”

The red stunner almost hit its target, but Hermione had run forward as well and at the last moment whispered, “Protego!”

The stunner bounced harmlessly away as Ron laughed again.

“Ah, so you can do magic now, Harry. Unfortunately, as you can see, it won’t be so simple.

“Don’t you see it yet? This has all been my plan. I’ve had my agents monitoring your every move since you arrived at that grovel of a room. Your wonderful Landlady has been giving me regular reports about your every move and mood. She even regularly gives me an updated inventory of your entire possessions.

“I’ve been waiting an entire year for you to return so I can deal with you properly. I wasn’t ready before, but I am now.”

Harry took no notice of Ron. He was watching Hermione, still avoiding looking at Ron and, it seemed, himself.

Then he caught a glimpse of her eyes. They were dull, almost lifeless.

“What have you done to her?”

Harry dived as Hermione’s spell narrowly missed him and blew a pair of doors clean off. Harry decided it would be best if he could separate Hermione from Ron. He hurried through the destroyed doorway and found himself in a large anteroom.

As he’d hoped, Hermione followed at a slow pace.

“Hermione! Please? It’s me, Harry!”

Ron’s laughter reached them from the other room.

Hermione aimed her wand at Harry again and fired. This time, Harry returned fire, aiming at her legs. Her shield easily deflected his curse.

Harry ran forward and grabbed her wand arm. With his free hand he forced her head to face his. She still wore no expression in her facial features. Only her eyes moved, and they continued to avoid his look.

“She’s too far gone, Harry,” said Ron, still lying on the floor in the other room, enjoying the show. “She always resisted looking into my eyes, whatever I did. She can’t look at you, because it was her hatred of you that gave us control over her.”

“No,” breathed Harry.

Hermione tried to pull herself away, but her wand remained pointing away from him.

“Hermione! I love you! That’s why I left. You seemed so happy with Ron. I couldn’t bear it any longer.”

“Forget it, Harry. She’s a vegetable.”

Anger flared up inside him. Harry pushed Hermione away and aimed at one of the few remaining columns in the other room.

Ron looked surprised for a moment, before glancing at Snape. Then he relaxed into a grin again.

“Tut, tut, Harry. You’re going to kill Snape as well as me? Hardly the actions of a Gryffindor hero!”

Harry fired and the final four columns exploded into dust. Tonnes of rock and stone deluged the room. The roar of noise drowned out Harry’s cry of “Accio!” but Snape and chair came skidding out of the room just in time, travelling so fast his momentum carried him crashing into the wall opposite.

He leapt to his feet and faced Hermione. She was levelling her wand at his heart, even though she still looked away from him.

Harry walked towards her, wand at his side.

“I’m so sorry, Hermione. I deserve whatever you want to do to me. All I ask is that you do it for your own sake. That wasn’t Ron. Voldemort tricked him. I know I was wrong to go, and wrong not to tell you the truth about why. Please let me tell you the truth now.”

Harry looked into her dull eyes, still darting around the room, looking anywhere except at him.

“Please, Hermione,” he whispered.

A single tear fell down Hermione’s cheek before she fired.

10. Two Demands

A Place of Contemplation

by Jardyn39

Chapter 10: Two Demands

Harry woke to a smell of burning. He opened his eyes, straining to see what was going on.

He wasn’t wearing his glasses, so everything was unfocused. He appeared to be laying on a couch in the middle of a room with a low ceiling. Lanterns were spaced evenly around the walls.

Harry struggled to move, and the couch made a small squeak as he strained.

There was movement across the room. It was a shadow.

A voice behind him said, “Ah, awake at last. Just in time.”

Harry felt his glasses being placed upon his face and then a smiling face came into view.

“How do you do?” said the elderly goblin. “My name is, Grundock, since you probably won’t remember the last time we met. I am an Elder and member of the Goblin council.”

“I’m Harry Potter,” replied Harry groggily. “We’ve met before?”

“I’m afraid you’ve been in and out of consciousness for most of the last few hours. We usually get this far in the conversation when you pass out again.”

“Sorry, I’ll try and stay awake a little longer this time.”

“Your glasses were damaged. I have brazed the broken piece back on as a temporary measure.”

“Um, thanks,” said Harry, half wishing he could see the repair. Goblin metalwork was second to none.

Harry tried to move again, and felt his movement constricted.

“I shouldn’t bother trying to move,” Grundock said casually, busying himself with something out of Harry’s view.

Harry looked down and realised he was strapped to the couch. He looked around the room again and realised he wasn’t lying on a couch at all. He was in an interrogation chair and this was an interrogation room.

He had no doubt at all, that the goblins would not restrain themselves when interviewing captured wizards. After all, it looked like the wizards had being torturing every goblin they caught and the displayed the heads for them to see.

Perhaps that was going to be his fate.

“What happened to the others?” asked Harry.

“Well, we found a male and a female with you, but don’t worry about them.”

Harry tried to pull his arm out from under the straps.

“Relax, Harry Potter. You’ll hurt yourself.”

“Sure, I wouldn’t want to spoil your fun.”

“Sorry?”

“You are going to torture me, aren’t you? Not that I really blame you, really, after what they did.”

Grundock turned to face him and frowned slightly. He walked forward and released the straps binding Harry.

“There. Now lie still or you’ll fall off.”

“I don’t understand,” said Harry, completely thrown by Grundock’s actions.

“Well, I’ve no idea what you were hit with, but it will take your Healers to repair the damage. I gave you a strong painkiller, but I can’t do anything about your internal injuries. I doubt whether you can stand, actually.”

“I meant, why did you release me?”

“We are not going to torture you. We have managed not to descend to the levels your kind has employed lately.”

“Those people have nothing to do with me.”

“We know. Fortunately, the snakes managed to communicate your intentions in time. We were about to unleash our own assault.”

“You knew about the attacks?”

“Nothing happens in our tunnels without our knowledge. We actually allowed some tunnels to be occupied in order to gather more intelligence. We were listening to most of their orders as they were given.

“We were able to wake the Giants a little earlier than they anticipated, so they just fought amongst themselves. Our contingency plan to deal with the Trolls was a little desperate, though. I much preferred your solution.

“No, our main problem was that we couldn’t get up out of the tunnels as they were sealed by the building they built over Gringotts. We dug supply tunnels, of course, but we were seriously inconvenienced. Whoever thought to build it, using charms we could not penetrate, showed goblin like cunning.”

Harry looked down, realising that Hermione was the only one he knew who might have thought of something like that.

“Don’t worry,” said Grundock handing him a goblet of water. “We will not demand
reprisals provided those involved receive appropriate punishments. We know that men are weak.”

“Thanks,” said Harry quietly, taking a sip of water.

“Why did you do it, Harry Potter?”

“I was in search of Stein when I realised I had an opportunity to help.”

“Yes, we were after Stein for a long time too,” Grundock admitted. “It was a good deception, but the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was the greater deception.”

“You knew about Voldemort?”

Grundock didn’t flinch at all.

“So,” he said with a wide smile, “you really do say Voldemort’s same.”

Harry snorted and nodded. Goblins had a reputation for cleverness and they liked to test others.

“When did you realise?” Harry asked.

“Well, there were rumours amongst the tunnel wizards for months. They kept discussing how Voldemort would have done things the same way. We couldn’t understand why he would be after the gold, though. Voldemort always wanted power, not money.”

Harry nodded and said, “He found a way to come back again. He possessed a friend of mine this time. Ron had his own obsessions though.”

They were quiet for a moment.

“Did you find another body, in the adjacent room? That’s where Ron was.”

“No. Three storeys collapsed. We did not detect any life under there, so we left the rubble alone. We could not get under there before the wizards arrived, anyway.”

Harry nodded sadly.

“You’ll be glad to know,” said Grundock, “that none of the vaults were broken into. We did allow them into a couple of levels, but they all contained traps.”

Harry shrugged. The vaults seemed less important somehow.

“There’s something I don’t understand, though,” said Harry, staring into his goblet. “I left almost immediately after Voldemort was defeated last time, and yet it took him barely a year to take power again. How could everyone let that happen?”

Grundock sighed and said, “That isn’t a wizarding problem, it’s a human problem. Moderate people will always stand by and allow an extremist to act. In this instance the changes were brought about very efficiently.

“Fear and intimidation are powerful controlling influences. If you know your family is genuinely at risk if you do or don’t act in a particular way, even if you know it is wrong, it is difficult to resist.

“Add the fact that people invariably follow orders and become accustomed to things, no matter how cruel, and it is almost inevitable that Voldemort and his like will find an easy foothold.”

“That’s a terrifying thought.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Grundock. “I would say that you are an extremist, Harry Potter. You would be capable of just as much cruelty as Voldemort if pushed.”

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but realised it was true. Well, almost true.

“That might be correct, apart from the influences I have known. Dumbledore made me realise that some things are unacceptable, even when fighting Voldemort. There have been other influences too, probably stronger, actually.”

“All I meant to suggest,” said Grundock gently, “is that it is time for an extremist to lead moderate wizards back to a moderate attitude.”

Harry looked down and said quietly, “I’m really not sure.”

“A year ago, you made a decision. You were wrong. I don’t care that you were probably only able to defeat Voldemort yet another time by being absent from the wizard community. In my judgement, you made the wrong decision.”

Harry nodded and said in a whisper, “I know I did.”

“Wizard law cannot punish you for that. In any case, it would be unfair to blame you for the actions of others, just because you were not there to attempt to prevent them.”

Harry frowned and asked, “What about goblin law?”

“Is there even such a thing?”

“There is if you say so,” asserted Harry. “I mean, if Goblins say so.”

“Precisely.”

“Um, sorry, but I still don’t understand.”

“I want two things. Firstly, the Wizard and Goblin treaties of the past are to be repealed and replaced with new joint laws that truly recognise us as equals. There are some goblin property and ownership rights that will need to be negotiated, but essentially we want real equality in all the statutes.”

“That seems fair, but didn’t the last round of treaties need a revolt followed by years of negotiation.”

“True, but this time we essentially won unconditionally, thanks to you. If wizards want access to their cash and valuables, we expect a little co-operation.”

“Just remember that people will need to feed and clothe themselves. If you are not careful you will just build up resentment again. What is your second demand?”

Grundock smiled widely at him.

“You have just fulfilled it, or taken a step towards it, anyway.”

“Er, sorry?”

“Simply, I want you to accept the appointment you will be offered shortly.”

“Appointment?”

“I expect you to work for the interests of all that come before you, mind you.”

Harry looked at the goblin entirely dumbfounded.

“Goblins haven’t been permitted to take their seats of the Wizengamot for hundreds of years. Even the fact that we had seats has been repressed. For many years now, Albus Dumbledore was the Goblin representative.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Neither did most of the other members, actually.”

“You’ll want to take your seats now, though, right?”

“Yes, in time. For the immediate future, I am charging you with that responsibility.”

“You can still make appointments to the Wizengamot?”

“No, but we can influence the decisions. I confess that Stein was one of ours. We were hoping that a moderate would bring a little stability to the proceedings. You can see why we’d quite like to try a more extremist approach?”

“Even if I was offered a place, I’m far too young. I don’t know the law!”

“We are re-writing the laws, remember. Anyway, we don’t want a lawyer or a politician. We would prefer someone prepared to face a hoard of charging Mountain Trolls.”

“Actually, I ran from the trolls.”

“Only after you had their full attention. Besides, knowing when to run just shows sound judgement,” retorted Grundock. Then he added more gently, “I know you are still young, younger even than Dumbledore when he joined the Wizengamot, but he knew you would be called one day, with or without our help.”

Harry shrugged and said, “He was always an optimist.”

“The Wizengamot will need to re-form. Regrettably, most of the most able members – the ones who tried to resist – are no longer available. Those that remain put their own survival before their duty to the wider wizarding community. Worse, with the temporary absence of likely candidates, several will seek nomination simply in order to pursue personal interests.

“Right now, the Wizengamot needs to be reminded what it is really there for and what it stands for. They need to hear the voice of an idealist who won’t compromise to abuse of power.

“It comes down to this: Are you prepared to stand by and allow more injustices or will you take a stand?”

“I’m not sure I can, alone I mean.”

“You have never truly been alone, Harry Potter. Not in any sense that counts, anyway.”

“I may be now, though,” Harry added darkly, as the image of Hermione’s eyes passed through his mind.

“I suspect that this burden will not be placed on your shoulder’s alone, Harry Potter.”

Harry thought for a moment and then said, “Hang on. How did you know about what happened to me? I mean, that I’ve been away?”

“The reconnaissance party that retrieved you, also happened to locate several most secret files.”

“Did many records survive? They might be handy.”

“The records are remarkably intact. Now, I will shortly render you unconscious for your journey back up. It will more comfortable for you that way, and in addition you will be unable to remember your route. Is there anything else you wish to ask?”

“You said you wouldn’t seek reprisals, but what about reparations?”

Grundock just grinned widely. Harry realised that he hadn’t really needed to ask.

Harry nodded and grinned back at him.

Grundock flicked his fingers, and Harry’s head fell back.

11. Seven Minutes Past Three

A Place of Contemplation

by Jardyn39

Chapter 11: Seven Minutes Past Three

Harry woke slowly and crinkled his nose at the unpleasant smell of a sterilised ward. He opened his eyes and realised he was in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

The last thing he remembered was Hermione standing in front of him. She had fired. He vaguely remembered another room and an elderly goblin, but that may just have been a dream.

He groped for his glasses but couldn’t find them.

Someone with long red hair came up to him and said, “Here, Harry, let me help you.”

“Ginny!”

“Hello, stranger,” she said warmly, placing his spectacles on his face.

Harry grinned up at her. She looked thin, but the smile on her face told him she was well.

“I’m so glad you’re okay. Is that Neville over there?” he asked, indicating the bedside she had come over from.

“No, Harry. Neville’s down there a ways.”

“Who is that then?” asked Harry, seeing that they were heavily bandaged.

“Well, that one is Bill and next to him is Dad.”

“What?”

Ginny nodded and smiled tearfully. “They found them locked up at the Ministry. They are very poorly, but the Healers think they’ll be okay. They’ll need to stay in hospital for some time, though.”

“And Neville?”

“He’ll pull through.”

“Do you mind keeping the chatter down? Some of us are trying to recover here, you know?”

Harry looked sideways to see a sardonic Snape sitting up in the adjacent bed, wearing a black silk nightshirt.

“Aren’t those Harry’s grapes?” asked Ginny. “Sorry, Harry, but Neville’s stirring. I’ll see you later,” she said before hurrying up the ward.

“She’s been charging around this ward for two days ever since she got back from Azkaban, trying to say a few words to people before they pass out again. I did suggest she knock them out and wake them up when she was ready to see them, but she didn’t appear to think much of that idea.”

Harry just tried to move a little. His muscles were feeling incredibly stiff from lying still.

“Molly said she’d be back to see you later,” drawled Snape.

Harry nodded and pulled himself up into a sitting position. He realised there was something different about his glasses.

He reached up with both hands and slipped them off. Holding them close so he could see clearly, Harry realised that the frames were entirely new. On the outside, they looked identical to his old pair, except that the scratches were now missing from the bronzed metal. The inside, the face unseen when he wore them, though, was very different.

Harry brought them closer, marvelling at the workmanship. The inside faces were gold, intricately inlayed with what looked like fine silver wire set out in spiralling patterns. Stretching along each temple arm of the frame, Harry recognised Goblin script, although he had no idea what it said.

“What do you make of this?” he asked, holding out his glasses vaguely to where Snape was.

He felt the glasses being pulled from his fingers.

“Have you seen anything like that?”

“I have,” replied Snape. “Just once. The workmanship is Goblin, no doubt. This side is a motto that doesn’t really have a translation in English. It is commonly inscribed on a token gift, say from a father to son. It is, I suppose, an affirmation; a reminder that although the elder may sometimes be distant, the younger still enjoys the protection of the elder.”

Harry frowned. The word, “Elder,” meant something to him for some reason. He couldn’t quite remember what.

“The other inscription is phonetic. It appears to be in English. I believe it says something like, Trolls you may run from, but in the face of Injustice you will stand.”

Snape held his arm out and Harry reached out and put the glasses on again.

“I don’t remember receiving these glasses.”

“Well, from the unassuming style, I would say whoever gifted them to you knows you rather well.”

“These couldn’t be charmed, could they?”

“I doubt it. Dumbledore’s spectacles had something similar inscribed on them, although his frames were made entirely from gold. I had the honour to be present once when the Goblins presented him with a new pair.”

Harry nodded and turned to look at Snape properly.

“You okay?”

“No thanks to you.”

“You’re welcome, Professor.”

Snape smirked and tossed the half eaten bag of fruit over to him.

“Thanks.”

“Regrettably, Ronald Weasley is dead. His body was recovered yesterday. The remains of the Dark Lord’s book were found next to you, as a matter of fact. Did you destroy it?”

“No, that wasn’t me. I feel awful saying this, but I was afraid he had Apparated out. Still, he never could do it if he was in a panic.”

“Indeed.”

“What happened to Hermione?”

“Miss Granger is alive and physically well, but she remains in a trance like state. They found her unconscious next to you but, rather curiously, neither of you was found where I was. I believe Molly is visiting her now.”

Harry immediately threw off his bedclothes.

“What ward is she in?”

*

Harry pushed the heavy wheelchair out of the lift on the Fourth Floor and asked, “Which way?”

“Spell Damage,” read Snape. “That way.”

“You could have just told me where she was,” complained Harry.

“Yes, but I was bored with that ward.”

Harry backed into the ward entrance doors and pulled Snape and the wheelchair through. He turned the wheelchair around only to see a tearful Mrs Weasley coming towards them.

“Harry, dear,” she sniffed. “I’m afraid there’s no improvement yet.”

Harry abandoned Snape and walked down to the end of the ward. A lone figure was standing with her back to him, looking out of the window.

“Hermione?”

Harry approached. Her eyes looked much the same as before. He gently turned her so they were face to face. Her face was still entirely passive, but eyes darted around, looking anywhere but at him.

“I’m going to try something,” he said gently.

At first he attempted to read her feelings and emotions. All he saw was a jumble of horrific images, presumably the things Ron or Voldemort had forced her to do and witness.

Harry broke his contact, and sighed.

“Show her, Harry,” urged Snape, who must have wheeled himself down to join them. “Show her your feelings and the power that gave you to defeat the Dark Lord. She has a right to know.”

Harry closed his eyes a moment, and then opened them. He projected the last few moments of his final encounter with Voldemort into her mind.

Unfortunately, he didn’t quite have the control over his emotions he’d hoped for. In place of the final encounter, he ended up replaying his entire nightmare.

As their link grew deeper, Harry felt the pull of whatever was controlling Hermione’s mind.

*

Harry stood in a familiar white room surrounded by debris. Hermione was sitting, facing away from him, in the white chair.

“Hermione?”

She turned to look at him. Her eyes looked normal.

“Hi, Harry. How are you doing? Welcome to my world, by the way.”

Her voice was even and calm. The only time she had sounded like that before was when she was very, very angry with him.

“Your world? I don’t understand. This is just like the hotel room where I took Snape’s potion. I thought I saw you then too, actually.”

“Yes, I remember seeing you too.”

“I’m still not sure I understand. Anyway, Hermione, I need you to snap out of this.”

Harry stepped over the mangled remains of the white bedstead and walked towards her.

“We’re in St. Mungo’s,” he said gently. “I was trying to reach you. I felt you remembering the things that happened with Ron.”

“Oh, yes. I remember. That’s all I ever see these days.”

“I need you back, Hermione. We need to start to put things right. I can’t face anything without you.”

“Be realistic, Harry,” she spat. “All I have to look forward to, at best, is a lifetime in Azkaban.”

“Did you have any control over what you were doing?”

“I couldn’t stop myself, no. The awful thing is, I’m not sure how much I would have stopped had I been able to.”

“I’m sure, Hermione.”

Hermione’s shoulders sagged. Harry knelt before her and held her hands in her lap.

“On the morning of the day that I left Hogwarts, I told Ron the real reason why I was leaving. I’ve never seen him so angry.”

“Yes, I remember him telling me after you’d gone. He said you wanted to make a fresh start now that your magic had gone. He felt you were wrong to abandon your friends too.”

“I did tell him that, but that wasn’t all. Do you remember that time when you all broke into the hospital wing to see me?”

Hermione smiled fleetingly.

“We knew we would get into trouble, but Ron insisted you had to be present when we celebrated. Even if you were unconscious at the time.”

Harry snorted and said, “Yes. The thing is, I wasn’t unconscious for the whole time. I came round briefly, when it was quieter. You and Ron were talking. I heard, Hermione.”

“Oh.”

“You seemed so happy and optimistic for a future together. I know it was selfish of me, but I just couldn’t bear to stay. I was happy for you both, honestly, but I really didn’t think I could cope seeing you with anyone else, even Ron.

“As I lay there, I tried to perform Legilimency on you again. I’d never been able to read you before, but that time I felt the happiness inside you. The love you felt for Ron.”

“Well, I probably was feeling a lot of love and happiness then, Harry, but not necessarily for Ron. Actually, I was planning on letting Ron down gently after we left school. I couldn’t spoil things for him, not when things looked so good for him. I decided it would be best once he settled into his new job.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“I’m surprised you couldn’t read that in me. After all, I was sitting on you bed holding your hand at the time, wasn’t I?”

“I suppose, I’ve never been able to read you clearly.”

“So what else did you tell Ron that made him so mad?”

“I told him how I really defeated Voldemort. You see, I worked out what the Prophecy meant. Well, more like, how it applied. Dumbledore told me what it was, but it took me until the final second to work it out.

“You see, Voldemort drained me of the last of my magic. I knew I was dead. Nothing mattered then. He had won. The thing is, the power he knows not, had nothing to do with magic. So when I finally admitted my feelings, knowing that a moment later it was all going to be over, this power rather overwhelmed him, to put it mildly. You see, we were still linked. The power was simply my love for you.”

“You seriously told Ron that?”

“Well, yes.”

“No wonder he was glad to see you go. He kept accusing me of harbouring feelings for you. I refused to dignify his accusations with a response, so he assumed I had. He became intolerable after that. I finished with him about a week after he started work at the Ministry.

“I had hoped you would come to your senses by then and get in touch.

“I didn’t see him again until after the first trials. He turned up just before the second round of trials and insisted I join him. He said you’d been in contact and wanted to meet. Of course I agreed to go with him at once.

“I woke up here, in this white room. I hardly recognised him here, though. It was as if he was different here.

“Anyway, Ron went berserk and smashed everything except that chair. The last thing to go was the clock. I kept on insisting that you’d come, but some small part of me feared you wouldn’t come back at all.

“That’s when he got me to admit what happened, when I caught up with you just before you left. Once I felt those feelings again, I was lost. He had control.”

“I’m so sorry, Hermione.”

“We’re a fine pair, aren’t we, Harry?”

Harry grinned at her, and they leaned together until their foreheads touched.

“Your Legilimens skills are getting much better, you know? I saw the entire dream this time.”

“This time?”

“I realise now that I’ve been seeing flashes of your dreams and nightmares for years when we were at school. I assumed I was just empathising with you.”

“Let’s get out of here, shall we?”

“How? I’m trapped here.”

“Ron’s dead. Neither he nor Voldemort can control you now.”

“Voldemort?”

“Yes, he was using Ron this time. I’m convinced part of Ron remained, though. He protected his family. Well, he prevented them from being killed, anyway.”

Harry got up and tried to open the door. It was locked.

He pointed his wand at the lock and said, “Alohomora!”

Harry suddenly felt a sharp pain to his forehead, like a very bad headache.

“Ouch,” said Hermione, rubbing her temple. “You were safer without any magic.”

“Sorry,” said Harry as he went over to the window. He tried to slide the sashes open, but they wouldn’t budge.

“Should I try and break the glass?” asked Harry.

“No, not yet anyway.”

Hermione was examining the contents of the room. Harry joined her in sifting through the items.

“Hermione, why didn’t you look at either Ron or me?”

“Oh, that was the only thing I could do to resist. Pathetic, I know, but it did annoy him.”

Harry realised she was picking the tiny clock movement pieces out of the carpet. Harry started to do the same and brought them to her when he had a handful.

Hermione was frowning, trying to remember something.

“What is it?” asked Harry.

“It’s no use. I’ve been trying to remember ever since I got here. Ron smashed this clock after he placed the charm on me. I’m sure I didn’t see the face, though.”

“Why, is the time important?”

“Possibly, yes.”

“Well, Snape made me take a potion in this room at a precise time. I took it at exactly seven minutes past three, by this clock.”

“That’s absurd, Harry. How on earth would Professor Snape know?”

“I don’t know. Maybe the seagulls told him.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Look, let’s just try and repair the clock.”

They placed the bits in a small pile and stood.

“Ready to face the music?” he asked gently.

“It’s going to be awful.”

“Yes, it will; but better than before. I don’t know what will happen, but we’ll face it together.”

Harry pointed his wand at the clock parts, and took hold of Hermione’s hand.

“Reparo!”

The clock jumped back together, looking as good as new on the white carpet, still surrounded by the side table debris. Several small bits they missed had jumped across the room.

Harry knelt down and set the clock hands.

They waited, hand in hand, as the second hand approached seven minutes past three.

*

Harry found himself once again standing in the hospital ward. The flash that accompanied them still filled his eyes and he couldn’t see yet.

He was still holding Hermione’s hands, and wasn’t about to let go.

“Hermione?”

He felt her lean towards him.

“I can’t see, Harry.”

“It will pass. Don’t worry,” he assured her as her outline started to become visible.

“One kiss, before they take me away?”

“Not if I can help it.”

Harry leaned down towards her. The first clear thing he saw were her clear, bright eyes looking up at him.

12. The Sensible Thing

A Place of Contemplation

by Jardyn39

Chapter 12: The Sensible Thing

Harry sat nervously at the small table in the middle of the Wizengamot Courtroom Ten. He looked around, thinking of everything that had happened in this imposing room since he had first seen it in Dumbledore’s Pensieve.

Most of the Wizengamot members had seated themselves now and most were chatting fervently with their neighbours. As he scanned the front row, Harry wondered if the arguments that had preceded the trial would colour their verdicts. He could only hope they would not.

As he looked around, his gaze was drawn to the vacant chair reserved for the Accused, the chains hanging still on each sides.

He tried to swallow, but his throat was just too dry.

For a moment Harry considered reaching for the jug of water and pouring himself a glass of water. He quickly abandoned this idea when he realised how much his hands were shaking.

Neville limped up to him, rested his hand on Harry’s shoulder and eased himself awkwardly into the seat next to Harry’s.

It was Neville, of course, who had ensured that Harry was given the privilege of sitting in the courtroom at all during the trial. His hints that if Harry wasn’t there to see that justice was served, he might just decide to close the Wizengamot down, had certainly been effective. No doubt the newspaper articles played a part too. Now he had his magic back he was regarded, more than ever, as another potential Dark Lord. Harry had been disappointed that he was there more by fear than trust, but at least he was there.

“How’s the leg?” whispered Harry as Neville straightened his smart black robes.

“Fine, I’m feeling much better now,” replied Neville in a normal voice, rubbing his thigh and resting his walking stick on the desk. “They are letting Ginny stay with Hermione until we get started this morning.”

Neville smiled seeing Harry’s concerned look and said, “Cheer up, Harry. This will all be over today. One way or another; at least we’ll know.”

Harry nodded.

“At least there shouldn’t be any more surprise witnesses,” Neville added with a smirk.

Harry groaned quietly and Neville suppressed a short laugh.

“It’s not funny Neville. If I had any idea, I wouldn’t have done any of it.”

“I seriously doubt that. Anyway, I can’t see how his evidence can harm us.”

Harry wasn’t so sure.

As soon as she had got out of hospital, Hermione had been remanded in Azkaban to await trial. Harry had demanded more or less unlimited visiting privileges, and to his regret, the Azkaban prison Governor had granted them.

The surprise witness had been none other than the Azkaban Governor himself, who had attended the Wizengamot unexpectedly and demanded to give evidence about Harry’s antics on the island.

The one condition the Governor had placed upon Harry right from the beginning was that he had to surrender his wand before entering. Harry had agreed immediately to this. After all, if another prisoner got hold of a wand it would be disastrous.

Harry rather liked his visits to the island. This was the one place the Press was not allowed, and he found himself spending more and more time on the island.

It was still rather austere and the weather was invariably atrocious, but without the Dementors and with the attraction of Hermione, Harry found peace there.

Azkaban did not have facilities to cater for visitors, but the Governor allowed Harry to visit with Hermione in his walled garden. This was fine during the brief periods of fine weather the island enjoyed, but for the most part Harry visited her cell.

The guards would leave the food serving hatch to her cell door open and they would sit either side and talk.

The first thing Harry did was to magically transfigure the food hatch. Each visit it would mysteriously grow little by little until he could see her properly. Harry was amazed he wasn’t caught sooner.

Emboldened, he grew more and more ambitious until the exasperated Governor called Harry to his office.

“I know it’s you,” accused the Governor.

“What is the problem?”

“The problem is, Miss Granger has submitted a complaint.”

“About me?”

“No, about her cell.”

“What’s wrong with her cell?”

“Well, it appears to be growing in size, for one thing.”

“It was a bit cramped, though, wasn’t it? Especially with all her books in there.”

“Her cell was one of the largest we have. You insisted she had that one because of the size.”

“That, and the fact that she can get the sun for most of the day.”

“Look, somehow she got hold of a copy of Volume One of the Ministry regulations for this place, and now she insists upon having nothing more than the minimum required by the regulations.”

Harry grinned and said, “I hope you put your foot down. You can’t let the prisoners tell you how to run your jail!”

“She can be a little intimidating, though.”

“She just wants to punish herself for something she didn’t do.”

“I didn’t agree to move her, but I did agree to inspect her cell.”

“Oh,” said Harry, his smile fading a little. “That was very, er, generous.”

“I noticed a number of other changes, as well.”

“Really?” asked Harry in what he thought was an innocent voice.

“The first thing I noticed was the lack of a cell door.”

“She does have a door!”

“The one she has isn’t a cell door. It has brass ironmongery and a letterbox, for goodness sake! I’m sorry, but it has to go. It needs a spy hole.”

“She has a spy hole!”

“No, the one she has is for looking out; we need one for looking in to make sure our prisoner is okay.”

Harry shrugged. He was going to change the door again anyway to stop Hermione from having a go at him.

“The window has got a bit bigger, hasn’t it?”

“Just a bit,” agreed Harry.

“Big enough to see the new balcony through it, anyway.”

“She had to have that balcony. I was afraid she might fall out of the window otherwise.”

“Couldn’t you have used window bars?”

“No. They would spoil the view and stop her getting out onto the balcony.”

The Governor gripped his desk, clearly trying to calm down.

“What about the swimming pool?”

“That is just a bath.”

“The carpet?”

“She had to have something to go with the wallpaper.”

“I’ve heard quite enough!” said the Governor, holding up his hands. “This has to stop. There could be trouble with other prisoners. They are bound to become jealous once they see the things she has in there!”

“I didn’t think you had any other prisoners in that Wing.”

“Well, no we don’t, but that’s hardly the point.”

“I’m sorry,” said Harry. “What did you want to see me about?”

“No, you wanted to see me. You left a message when you arrived this morning.”

“So I did,” agreed Harry, remembering what he wanted. “I’d like you to let Hermione go.”

“Let her go?”

“Not entirely. She’d still be on the island, but I’d like her to move in with me.”

“Move where?”

“I built a house for us on the far side of the island.”

“What if she escaped?”

“Do you really think that’s likely from someone demanding bars on her cell? Her door hasn’t had a lock for weeks now.”

“True, but what would the Wizengamot say?”

“I imagine they’d complain a lot and then do nothing, as usual.”

“I’d expect you, of all people, to speak of them with more respect. Anyway, this discussion is irrelevant. She will never agree. She’d think she was being given preferential treatment.”

“You could just order her to leave. She’d go then.”

“I doubt it.”

“You’d need to put in a bit of effort, it’s true. Alternatively, I could smuggle in a copy of Volume Two of the regulations for her to find.”

After much persuasion, Hermione finally agreed to move out of her cell, but only while she was on remand.

This was much to Harry’s relief. As her trial date loomed closer, Hermione began to withdraw into herself. At least he could make sure she was okay, even if she refused to take any part in her own defence.

*

The elderly Wizengamot judge gave two loud taps of his gavel calling the court to order, bringing Harry out of his reverie. Bapple placed the small mallet down and stroked his lapel, making sure his silver Wizengamot emblem was clearly visible.

Bapple was unaccustomed to taking the lead in criminal trials but he was one of the few judges that had returned. He had been an undistinguished member of the Wizengamot for years and now bore the resemblance of someone wishing to appear in control, but in fact having none.

Harry and Neville had, for different reasons, received several rebukes from Bapple before the trial even began.

“Are we ready to vote?” Bapple asked, looked around.

“One moment,” said Neville confidently. Everyone turned to look at him. The level of expectation that people had placed upon Neville was quite extraordinary. His struggle to continue the fight against Stein and the Ministry against impossible odds had brought him many admirers, albeit quiet ones.

Although Harry could see the differences in Neville that his experiences had brought, and he knew that he would never walk away from the many pleas for him to continue in public life, even he was surprised that Neville had taken so naturally to his new role.

“I have a few final things to say before you render a verdict. Before then, however, I believe the Accused is entitled to be present.”

“Very well,” said the judge in an annoyed tone. “Bring in the prisoner.”

Neville reached up to Harry’s shoulder and heavily pushed himself up. Harry stood as soon as he was able.

Almost immediately, a door behind them opened and two witches escorted Hermione to her chair. As with the previous times when she had sat down, the chains stirred for an unsettling four whole seconds before lying still again, leaving her unbound.

Harry tried to catch her eye as she passed, but Hermione did not look up and sat looking down, as she had all through the trial. Indeed, the only time she had looked up was during the reading of the names of all the victims.

The names read out were not Hermione’s all victims. Even the prosecuting council admitted that Hermione only questioned most of them before passing them on to other departments. The few survivors that gave evidence confirmed this.

However, this was not the case for all the people who came before her.

Possibly the worst day of the trial had been when Neville himself gave evidence. He gave an account that was dispassionate and detailed. Harry had no doubt that every word he said was true. Nothing embellished and nothing omitted, although Harry felt he probably downplayed the amount of pain he had experienced.

The entire court sat in shocked silence when he had finished. Neville had remained sitting in the witness chair, looking over to Hermione with a kindly smile. Harry looked over and was anguished to see she was crying silently, tears streaming down her face.

“Well?” said Bapple impatiently.

Neville turned and nodded to the young prosecutor. She was little older than Harry or Neville, but had received sudden promotion when several of those senior to her found themselves facing prosecution for their part in everything that had happened.

She nodded nervously and stood as Neville sat, again using Harry’s shoulder.

“If it pleases the court, the prosecution would like to clarify a number of points.”

Harry looked at Neville with some alarm. Neville sat listening intently, but otherwise unconcerned. Harry looked back at the entrance door and wondered if it wasn’t too late to ask Mr Scrimshaw’s advice. Mr Scrimshaw was the legal brains behind Hermione’s defence. Unfortunately, as Mr Scrimshaw was a goblin, the Wizengamot wouldn’t allow him inside the court. He had to wait outside with everyone else.

Neville slid a note over to Harry. It read, “No. There isn’t time anyway. Sit still and pay attention.”

Harry suppressed a snort as the prosecuting council gathered her papers. Neville had reminded Harry earlier that his principal role was to sit quietly and look like he would go berserk and hex everyone at a moment’s provocation. Harry had to admit, he didn’t need to try that hard to achieve this.

“Is this really necessary, Miss, er, whatever,” asked Bapple. She gave him a contemptuous look and carried on.

“Now, following the evidence given, the prosecution requests an adjustment to the charges.”

“No! No! No!” exclaimed Bapple, holding his hands over his ears and shaking his head as if her words were hurting his ears. “We’ve been through all this. She pleaded guilty. All we have to do now is vote on the sentence.”

Neville stood quickly but before he could speak the judge pointed a finger at him and said, “Now, don’t you start too. I’ve had quite enough of this, thank you. Sit down both of you.”

Neither sat.

“I was merely about to suggest that the Wizengamot vote on whether to hear the proposal and then vote again on whether or not to admit it,” said Neville.

“This is intolerable!”

“Oh, I think you’ll find it is,” said a quiet voice right at the end of the judge’s row. “I call for a vote to hear the proposal. Rise of hands please,” requested Professor McGonagall.

Neville immediately raised his hand.

“You can’t vote!” shouted Bapple.

“Yes, I can. I excused myself voting on the Defendant’s charges because I was personally involved and was due to give evidence. This vote is on a procedural matter.”

Harry grinned and immediately put his hand up too, although he didn’t need to. There was a clear majority.

“Oh, very well. Get on with it!”

The prosecutor stood again and addressed the court after waiting to give Neville time to seat himself again.

“We now accept the defence’s assertion that the charges are incorrect. The defendant is accused of wilfully torturing her victims. However, even the witnesses for the prosecution all acknowledged that Miss Granger appeared to be under some form of control. Her will was not her own. It is our contention that the charges should reflect this.”

“I was not convinced,” said Bapple coldly. “It seems to me that even if the charges were to be amended, you should be calling for the same punishment. May I remind you that she pleaded guilty to the charge?”

“She did,” agreed Neville quietly. “Let us then consider the punishments.”

The prosecutor sat and Neville stood again.

“Hang on,” interrupted Bapple. “I thought we were voting to change the charges.”

“No,” replied Neville calmly. “The vote was to hear the proposal. I don’t think anyone else is confused.”

Bapple looked quizzically at the court scribe but everyone was looking intently at Neville, waiting for him to speak.

“We have heard calls for a life sentence in Azkaban, banishment and even the death penalty.

“None of these are, in my opinion, appropriate nor serve justice.

“Harry, here, was forced to kill his best friend, Ron Weasley. However, Harry wasn’t fighting Ron, he was, once again, fighting Voldemort.”

There was a collective shudder at the mention of Voldemort’s name.

“Harry Potter had no choice. If he hadn’t acted, many of us here today would be dead. I know that Harry has suffered greatly following his actions. Not only has he borne physical injuries, he has mourned the loss of a valued friend together with the considerable guilt of knowing that he was responsible.

“It was Voldemort who left plans to return to physical form once more. He clearly knew the threat that Harry posed to him. When Harry defeated him finally, the book Voldemort left became the only means by which he could return.

“The book was originally intended for Harry Potter, a particularly macabre choice.

“In the event, Harry’s sacrifice of his magic to defeat Voldemort meant that the book could not be used with Harry. A new victim was selected, the ambitious, trusting and pureblood Ron Weasley.

“We do not know at what point Stein stopped becoming Voldemort’s servant and became Ron Weasley’s puppet. It is a poor reflection on the Ministry that none of them noticed nor stood up against the appalling policies the Voldemort brought with him.

“Ron Weasley cannot be blamed for what happened to him. It is even possible that Stein had no control in the beginning, either.”

Neville paused.

“Of the senior members of the administration, all are either dead or continue to evade capture. The only person you have in custody that you think was also a member is the defendant, even though there is no evidence that she ever participated in planning or policy making.

“I do not believe it is for the Wizengamot to punish those that they have captured for the crimes of those they have not.

“The defendant was under the control of Voldemort when she acted as she did. The person who carried out those crimes is gone. Any punishment will be served on an innocent person.

“Hermione Granger surrendered herself for trial as soon as she recovered from Voldemort’s control. She pleaded guilty to your charges in spite of the advice and requests from her council and friends. She has also done nothing to further her own defence.

“Hermione Granger pleaded guilty because she feels guilty. She thinks that she must bear responsibility for all Voldemort’s victims because this time she couldn’t fight him. This time, she herself was a victim.

“I do not believe that no punishment would be acceptable. Acceptable to her, that is, not to the Wizengamot.

“I would suggest, however, that to lock up a witch with such a talent for good, would be the greater crime. That would serve no one. We must all work to rebuild, and she has a role to play in that rebuilding.

“I propose a suspended sentence and a period of time that she should be required to spend working for the benefit for the community.”

The Wizengamot voted, and by an overwhelming majority, Hermione was handed down a suspended ten year sentence and five years working for the community. She was banned from ever working directly for the Ministry, but otherwise no other restrictions were placed upon her.

Harry hurried her outside before she could argue and left her being hugged senseless by Ginny and Mrs Weasley.

Harry quickly returned to see what Neville was up to.

“I’m afraid I have a rather serious matter to raise,” Neville was saying.

Bapple sat down again.

“Yes?”

“The order to tear down Voldemort’s building in Diagon Alley has been withdrawn. Work as been suspended. I’d like an explanation.”

“It was too expensive,” said Bapple in an exasperated tone. “The Goblin estimate for the rebuilding work was outrageous. They’ll just have to make do with what is left.”

“Who instructed this?”

“The Wizengamot did, of course.”

“Really? I didn’t vote. Are you sure it was the full Wizengamot?”

“No, of course it wasn’t. The Ministry brought the figures to me and I decided that was the most expedient course.”

“You have no authority to over-rule a full Wizengamot order. I’m afraid,” he said addressing the court, “I must call for a vote on the immediate expulsion of Mr Bapple. It would not be seemly for a Wizengamot member to face charges.”

“Charges?” blustered Bapple.

“Indeed,” said Neville calmly. “I ordered the destruction of that place with the full backing of the Wizengamot. Any attempt to change that order without appropriate authority is contempt of court.

“We will vote when you have left, but before you go, I would just remind you why I think this so serious.

“Hundreds of Goblins died at the hands of wizards. Frankly, I’m amazed they are still prepared to give access to the gold they bank for us. It is clear that the Goblins want peace and have accepted that Voldemort played a large part in what happened.

“However, we must show that we are contrite. That building is a terrible symbol of what happened. We must erase it and restore to the Goblins what we destroyed.

“Yes, it will be expensive. So it should be. The Goblins know the value of things and I want them to know that we value them.”

Bapple looked defiantly at Neville for a moment, but then bowed his head and quietly left.

As he left, Harry recalled the moment when Neville had ordered the destruction of the building and the rebuilding of Gringotts. Neville made it quite clear that he held the Ministry responsible for capitulating in the face of the then new Minister’s illegal demands.

He ordered it to exceed the exacting standards set by the Goblins and the cost of any work they carried out themselves would be met in full by the Ministry.

Bapple in particular had been outraged that one of the most junior and newest members of the Wizengamot should have such an audacity, but it set the tone for Neville’s tenure.

The Wizengamot had needed several new members to replace those killed or who no longer wished to continue.

The selection process alone took several months, but at the end of it twelve new members were appointed. The youngest of the new members were Harry and Neville.

To their surprise, their appointment hadn’t even been the most controversial.

Neville actually found himself threatened with prosecution if he didn’t agree to join the Wizengamot, his efforts for the Resistance being well known. There was even a newspaper campaign demanding his appointment.

Harry’s stance on Goblin, Centaur and House Elf rights had brought fierce resistance to his nomination initially. Gradually, though, his main objectors withdrew, some even filing for bankruptcy.

Possibly the most controversial aspect of the selection process, was the number of seats created.

Harry was amongst those who lobbied fiercely that the Goblins should be allowed to take their seats. In the end, enough seats were left vacant.

That was when the Daily Prophet began running more scare stories about Harry. The fabricated stories about Giant Armies, Troll Conspiracies and plans for Legalised Dragon Keeping didn’t bother him, but a story that alleged he was planning on creating Wizengamot seats for Centaurs and House Elves got him thinking.

*

In the months to come, the Goblins rebuilt Gringotts bank. The banking halls were reopened with great fanfare and were widely regarded as the finest in the wizarding world.

The formal opening was made by Ginny, attending her first official function as wife of the youngest Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot since records began. With Bapple gone, there were no objectors to Neville’s appointment, apart from Neville himself.

In the event, the Goblins only made a nominal charge against the Ministry. The correct charge would have bankrupted the Ministry and Harry’s suggestion, that the Goblins might be persuaded to take up their Wizengamot seats in exchange, was at last listened to.

It would take him a few more years to get the Centaurs and House Elves there as well, and a few more years after that to get them to actually take up their seats.

*

Harry and Hermione didn’t attend the grand reopening of Gringotts, preferring instead to attend the select party at the bank held the evening before where, at long last, Harry retrieved his beloved Firebolt from his vaults.

While Hermione attended to her duties at St Mungo’s, Harry spent almost the entire next day flying, arriving late that evening at Neville and Ginny’s home in the north of England.

Ginny carried a hot plate into the dining room, having hastily prepared some more food for their unexpected guest.

“Where’s he gone?” she asked, seeing the Firebolt propped up against the wall and no Harry.

“Hermione called to see where he’d got to. She’s been trying to contact him all day apparently.”

“Nothing’s the matter is it?”

“He did look a bit shocked,” admitted Neville, smiling and taking the hot plate from her. “I told him to Floo back. He might end up anywhere if he tried to Apparate.”

“Oh, I thought something was up when I spoke to Hermione earlier.”

Ginny was eyeing the Firebolt mischievously.

“He wouldn’t mind,” she said to herself. “Not just one little go.”

“Would that really be the most sensible thing to do, in your condition?”

13. Nothing Else Will Do

A Place of Contemplation

by Jardyn39

Chapter 13: Nothing Else Will Do

Harry woke early and crept out of the bedroom so as not to disturb Hermione. As he passed the last door before the top of the stairs, Harry heard giggling.

Smiling, he opened the door.

“Have you any idea what time this is?” he asked smiling. “It’s practically the middle of the night.”

His small daughter laughed and threw her soft toy to one side. Holding up her arms, she wordlessly demanded to be carried downstairs.

“Alright, but remember we must be quiet so Mummy can sleep.”

Lily held a finger to her mouth and made quiet, “Shh,” noises to him all the way down into the kitchen. Once they got there, she wriggled to get free.

Hermione generally preferred to leave Lily in her bedroom until it was time to rise. Harry knew he was encouraging her not to sleep, but he did enjoy these early mornings he spent with his youngest child. Not that she would be the youngest for much longer.

Harry made himself some tea and readied a beaker of water for when Lily was ready for a drink.

There was a soft knock on the back door. Harry stepped across and opened it at once.

“Grundock!” exclaimed Harry. “Come in! It’s been ages. Hello Greta, how are you?”

Greta, Grundock’s rebellious granddaughter, scowled at him. Harry grinned back at her, quite accustomed to her ways.

“I like your tee shirt,” continued Harry. “What does it say?”

Greta smiled evilly as she straightened her top to reveal the slogan, “Death to Wizards!”

Harry nodded while Grundock rolled his eyes.

“Greda!” cried Lily from across the room and darted towards her.

“Look out for the table!” shouted Greta as Lily ran right under the table, her head clearing the hard wooden top by the barest amount. She wouldn’t be able to do that for much longer.

Greta sighed with relief as Lily emerged unscathed from under the table and ran into her outstretched arms for a hug. For all her anti-wizard views, Greta cared rather a lot for the toddling Lily.

Lily, of course, absolutely adored Greta. Harry was sure all she wanted to be when she grew up was a glamorous Goblin princess, just like Greta.

While Greta and Lily went off to plot Goblin rebellions in the living room, Grundock sat at the kitchen table. Harry brought over two tiny glasses and an ancient bottle of spirits.

Harry generally didn’t drink this early, but any visit by Grundock was a special occasion.

He poured a thimbleful of the golden liquid in each glass before sitting.

They toasted each other and to the prosperity and good health of their families.

“It’s really good to see you, Grundock. You should come over more.”

“I should like to, but there never seems to enough time. I wanted to come over today, because of the trial that finished last week.”

“Oh, yes. I’m sorry about the verdict.”

“Don’t be, I’m not,” said Grundock immediately.

“The Wizengamot judged fairly. That was the first time that both a Goblin and a Wizard were convicted under the same laws.”

“I suppose it was,” agreed Harry.

“Your friend, Mr Longbottom, has certainly found his feet.”

Harry smiled and nodded.

“But what about yourself?”

“Well, I’m not sure really. I have thought about other things. I had a very tempting offer from the Ministry recently, but it would mean I’d have to cut down on the time I spend attending the Wizengamot.”

“I think you should reconsider. You’ll still be on the Wizengamot but you’d have more free time to spend with your family.”

“Are you sure? I feel I still owe you.”

“Harry, you owe nothing,” said Grundock gently. “Anyway, just consider the types of cases you are hearing now. They are rather mundane as a rule, aren’t they?”

“I suppose. Still, I’d rather that than have a Dark Lord back.”

“And yet, Mr Longbottom revels in these cases.”

They were interrupted by laughter coming from the living room.

“Is Greta still planning on attending Hogwarts?”

“I’m afraid so. She won’t find it easy.”

“No, but if anyone can make a go of it there, she will.”

Lily came toddling into the kitchen, her arms outstretched and grinning widely. All the way up both arms she was wearing silver bracelets.

“What are you wearing, darling?” asked Hermione from the doorway.

Harry realised what the bracelets were only a moment before Hermione burst into laughter, gathering her daughter into her arms.

Greta was grinning sheepishly.

“I do believe,” said Hermione, sounding amused, “that you are wearing every one of the teaspoons from the set of silver cutlery Gran and Grandad bought us for a wedding present.”

Lily nodded proudly, looking down and admiring her new jewellery.

“Hello, Grundock,” she said warmly. “Come on Greta. I think the least you can do is help bath our little Miss here.”

Greta went closer and was immediately hugged and kissed by Hermione. Greta blushed, never comfortable to receive outward displays of affection.

As the three girls went upstairs, Grundock stood and pulled out a small leather pouch.

Harry wasn’t sure what it was, but he stood as well.

“Harry Potter, the last time I presented you with a token, you were in no condition to remember it properly. The gold in this token is from the Apollo mines, a gift from the Goblin people to someone who has proved his friendship.”

Harry knew that the Apollo mines were reserved since ancient times. The gold mined there was never mixed with ordinary gold.

“The silver inlayed is a modest gift from my family in thanks of the welcome you have always given us.

“The words inscribed here have no monetary value, but they are from me since there is not enough gold in existence to buy your value to me.

“With this small token we avow our friendship to you.

“No matter how far you travel, nor how far your family grows, know always that the Goblin race and family will be here for you and your family.”

Harry blinked back tears as he knelt and extended his hand to accept the pouch.

He opened the soft leather flap to reveal a new pair of glasses. The outside of the frame was a little lighter than his current pair, but the concealed side was extraordinary. Harry’s eyes couldn’t see the true fineness of the silver inlay work, but he could see the inscriptions. They were exactly as before.

Harry blinked and managed to say, “Thank you, Grundock. I’ll always try to be worthy of your friendship.”

A loud shriek of laughter came from upstairs and a small boy with incredibly scruffy hair suddenly appeared at the kitchen door. He was rubbing his eyes sleepily.

“Decided not to sleep in, then, Ron?” said Harry with a smile.

“Girls,” was all he said, sounding just awake enough to be annoyed.

“Well, come and tell Grundock here what you’ve been up to while I get changed.”

Ron immediately perked up and ran over to greet the grinning Goblin.

“Can we go and see the tunnels again? And the dragons?” asked Ron excitedly.

Grundock smiled and said, “Well, it would be nice to visit them again.”

“Hey, quiet, about the dragons,” warned Harry looking nervously towards the door. “If Hermione catches us we’ll all be for it!”

Ron was too excited to care, though.

“Good grief,” said Harry, “would you look at this?”

He picked up the silver object lying on the dresser. Greta must have left it there.

Harry wondered at the skill needed to make it. It looked like a tiara, made entirely from silver forks that were somehow woven together. The fork prongs were bent in spirals to look like flower petals.

“Yes, I’m sorry about that. We’ve hardly got any cutlery left at home, actually.”

“No, I just meant this is amazing work.”

Hermione appeared at the door and went over to Harry. Wrapping her arms around him, she said, “Well, we know what to get Grundock for Christmas!”

Harry and Grundock laughed.

“Lily says she wants to come and see the dragons as well.”

“Wonderful,” said Grundock. “You’ll come too, of course, Hermione?”

“I’d like to, actually. If you think I can manage?”

“You sure?” asked Harry seriously. “Those tunnels can be difficult at the best of times.”

Harry had learned the hard way that telling Hermione not to do something, no matter how advanced her pregnancy, was guaranteed to make her determined to try. Asking her to reconsider, though, usually made her see sense. Usually.

“No, Harry,” said Grundock. “Hermione can take the civilised route. There is a nice comfortable railed trolley that goes straight there from the surface. The new one even goes at a sedate speed.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. He’d always assumed the route they’d taken was the only way to get to the caves.

“I’m afraid it will take us a little longer to get there,” admitted Grundock smiling. “Ron’s a little older now and there’s a particularly fine cavern I’d like to show him.”

“Oh, that’s fine. I’ll have Lily for company and I expect the cave paintings will keep us amused.”

Harry blanched.

Hermione immediately suspected something. Her eyes narrowed slightly.

“Oh, don’t tell me they are real dragons?”

“Don’t worry, Hermione,” said Grundock reassuringly. “The dragons cannot reach the viewing platforms. It is perfectly safe there.”

*

Ron yelled with delight as Harry pulled him and Greta back towards the rock face just in time. The dragon’s flame shot up, and for a moment all they could see was a red and yellow wall of fire. Their ears were once again filled with the deafening roar from the dragon below.

They waited on the narrow ledge a moment before moving on. Ron was still straining to look over edge again.

Harry wasn’t too worried about him getting burnt. Grundock had equipped both Ron and Greta with cloaks that made them more or less fireproof. There was a risk of falling, but Greta was a strong climber and even Ron was becoming sure footed.

The only thing that really concerned Harry was the fact the Hermione was watching them from the viewing platform high above. He had no doubt she would have something to say on the matter. Now she had seen how close the dragons were, it would be difficult to persuade her that they had been perfectly safe for most of the climb through the tunnels.

They got to the base of the last ladder, and began to climb. Grundock went first, followed by Ron, then Greta and then Harry. They went in this order to stop Ron climbing too far ahead and Harry could grab them if someone slipped.

Eventually they got to the top of the winding iron ladder, where they found Lily complaining loudly that see wanted to be close to the dragons too.

Harry was a little surprised when Ron immediately presented her with the charred egg fragment he’d recovered as they’d made their way past a nest.

The day ended with the six of them enjoying a picnic supper together on the terrace overlooking the dragons. Hermione and Grundock chatted as Harry continued to watch the dragons.

Ron and Lily sat either side of Greta. Ron was showing off his coat burns and Lily was explaining that she wanted a new pet for her birthday.

She wanted her own dragon, and nothing else would do.

AN: Just a short Epilogue to come….

14. Epilogue

A Place of Contemplation

by Jardyn39

Chapter 14: Epilogue

Years later, the Potters and the Longbottoms made their annual trip to the Weasley family plot to pay their respects at Ron’s graveside.

Harry, Hermione, Ginny and Neville stood side by side in quiet reflection.

They preferred to make this trip alone, leaving the children with the Weasleys. There was plenty to keep them occupied, getting ready for the afternoon and evening celebrations that marked Ron Weasley’s birthday.

Ron’s birthday also happened to be one of the few dates when the Wizarding Wireless Network’s most popular nightly show didn’t broadcast due to its host attending the regular Weasley party.

Severus Snape’s laconic monologues, on anything and everything that annoyed him, regularly broke listening records. This was perhaps mainly due to the regular anonymous callers, most of whom only called for the privilege of being insulted by an expert.

It had all begun with Snape having been a reluctant guest, invited on the pretext of being asked to give potions advice but actually quizzed on the heroics of one Harry Potter. A very displeased Snape had proceeded to effortlessly reduce the host to tears before proceeding to give his own more balanced account of Harry’s activities.

Listeners deluged the station with requests for more appearances by Snape and a star was born.

One caller in particular would Floo the live show regularly and complain, in a number of different accents about, “that mad Potter,” and demand something be done about him. Harry would always deny that he ever made any such calls, but not many people were fooled, least of all Snape.

As they walked back through the meadow, a group of five over excited children ran up, vaulted the stile and proceeded to drag Ginny and Neville off to see what they had discovered at the bottom of the field.

Hermione smiled, looping her arm around Harry’s.

“I hope you feel ashamed, Harry. Those are our kids dragging the senior Wizengamot judge into that river.”

“They’re not all ours. Anyway, I think Neville’s doing most of the dragging, actually.”

“It’s a good job they won’t be appearing before him anytime soon, though.”

Harry didn’t answer. He had been meaning to mention the warning letters.

Harry had been secretly teaching their youngest son James wand use every chance he got, as indeed, he had for Ron and Lily as they approached school age. Grundock had shown them a large local cave that blocked the Ministry’s monitoring of underage magic.

Ron and Lily had each arrived at Hogwarts with Charms, Transfiguration and Defence Against the Dark Arts skills about two years ahead of their contemporaries.

James, their youngest son, though, had progressed much more quickly. Harry quickly realised he had the makings of a very powerful wizard, and felt he should encourage him as much as possible.

He only found out later that Ginny and Neville had been doing the same thing. Each of their children would often stay over at each others houses, and Harry was never quite sure how many children would be there for breakfast.

Hermione, though, didn’t at all approve of breaking the laws on underage magic and had preferred to teach the children using only books before they went to Hogwarts. She also thought a Wizengamot member should show more of an example.

Harry knew his contribution to their pre-Hogwarts learning would be rather limited if it were to be limited to non practical tuition, and he was keen to help all he could. Besides, he reasoned, they would soon lose interest if they never actually tried a few things for themselves.

Hermione had known that Harry was teaching James some wand use. She had been present when they bought James his wand in Diagon Alley. Her questions why he needed a wand so young were answered when James’ wand chose him.

James had immediately known he had the right wand and the very first thing he did was to transfigure Mr Ollivander’s still squashed and distorted shop window to its original glory, even though it had been damaged since before he was born.

Once Hermione got over the shock she decided they needed to redouble their efforts with their studies. To Harry’s surprise, James had clearly inherited his mother’s enthusiasm for books.

“But, you were going to tell me, about the Ministry letters?”

Harry snorted.

“I will, when the time is right.”

“When will that be?”

“When you’re less likely to be mad at James. And me.”

“You’re too soft, Harry,” she replied, sounding amused.

“I know.”

They continued along the path, smiling as the children laughed and screamed as they played.

“I’ve decided to sit in on the Wizengamot again. The regular sittings, I mean, not just the full court.”

“Assuming Neville will put up with you, I think it will do you good.”

Neville had presided over almost every major trial since his appointment and had recently taken to summoning and grilling Ministry representatives that were drawing up new laws.

“Hey, Neville knows I’m entitled to ask at least one stupid question per sitting. Mind you, I think I may have to ask for a few more now that he’s decided the Wizengamot should regularly examine the Ministry’s activities.”

“Harry, asking why the Minister’s personal expenses exceeded many of his department’s budgets wasn’t stupid. Now tell me, what’s been bothering you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You had the dream again last night, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he admitted.

Hermione smiled sadly and squeezed his arm. He knew he should have woken her as she’d insisted.

“I suppose I still worry that Voldemort found some other way to leave his mark. What if-”

“Shh,” she interrupted him, placing her arms up around his neck. Harry smiled and leaned down to kiss her.

“Mum! Come and see what Aunty Ginny can do! Ew!”

Their son James quickly departed, no doubt to ask Uncle Neville once again if he was absolutely sure it was legal for his parents to kiss in public.

***

Still later…

Harry sat in his favourite arm chair facing the French windows. It was raining today, but Harry could clearly see most of the lush garden he spent most of his time tending these days.

To Harry’s immediate right sat his classmates for today, two sitting on chairs but the remainder happy to sit or lie on the living room carpet. Together they formed a small semicircle around a small easel and chalkboard.

Harry’s attention was wandering a little at that moment, as their teacher was presently admonishing one of her pupils for not sitting up properly. Unfortunately, Ted was one of the more unruly members of the class.

Harry smiled warmly, as he did whenever his eyes fell upon his youngest granddaughter, the daughter of his own adopted daughter Greta. He loved few things better than to be with her and join in with her games as required.

Although she joined in with games involving her elder brothers and cousins, she often preferred to play alone. Her favourite game by far, was playing at schools. Harry actually made quite a good play companion for this game. He was endlessly patient and actually loved nothing better than to be told off for being naughty or passing notes to one of the dolls.

Harry looked over to his left and smiled. Whispering quietly to each other were her two elder cousins debating their next move. The beautiful chess set and marble chequer board, a present years ago from his son Ron, was one of the few material things that Harry treasured.

He watched as they prepared to move, and then changed their mind again.

Turning back to the classroom, Harry realised he was being offered tea. It must be break-time. He took the tiny cup and saucer, and pretended to drink before realising he would need about fifteen teaspoons of pretend sugar to go with it.

“It looks like its stopped raining, if you wanted to play outside for a bit,” suggested Harry.

The boys didn’t need telling twice. Soon they were rushing to get back to work. They were building a den for themselves at the bottom of the garden.

*

Harry wiped the rain from the garden bench and then sat, toying with his walking stick. He found he needed his walking stick more and more these days. Although fit and healthy for his age by non-magical standards, his encounter with Voldemort was gradually catching up with him.

He wiped his glasses. The frames were of the finest Goblin gold and still carried the inscriptions he lived by. The outside of the frames were gold now. Hermione seemed to think they matched his silver hair.

When his granddaughter finished on the garden swing, she ran over to join him.

Jane lent towards him, looking serious. Harry leaned too, as best he could, to listen.

“Mummy’s having a baby,” she whispered.

Harry smiled and nodded.

“I know,” he whispered back. “Won’t it be wonderful?”

She nodded and smiled before running behind the trees to inspect whatever her cousins were up to.

Harry knew that would be the full extent of their discussion. He’d had almost the same short whispered conversation with her brother before she’d been born as well.

Harry and Hermione had formally adopted Greta when her grandfather Grundock had died unexpectedly. Greta had been raised by Grundock since she was orphaned as a baby.

Inevitably, Harry’s mind wandered back to Grundock and the tokens he had presented.

Harry too now continued that tradition. The token that Harry and Hermione would shortly present to Greta was almost ready. The quality was nowhere near as good as Grundock’s work, but that wasn’t the point.

From behind the tree canopy, there came a sliding, crunching sound. This followed by a muffled cry and then out came Jane. She looked a little shaken but otherwise okay.

She beckoned for him to come.

*

Harry climbed through the wet undergrowth with some difficulty. He stopped hurrying when he saw the two boys standing up, inspecting the damage.

“You two okay?” asked Harry.

They turned to him and he could see one had a bad graze down one leg and the other had a cut arm.

“It collapsed,” one said.

“Never mind about what you’re building,” said Harry. “Look at the state of you.”

He could hear running behind him and suddenly Jane appeared carrying Harry’s “magic” First Aid Box.

“Thank you, dear,” he said gently, taking the old tin box.

Harry placed the tin on a convenient board and opened it to reveal an assortment of bandages, plasters and creams. He rummaged around and finally took out a lotion bottle that contained purified water together with a small purple coloured sponge.

He wetted the sponge and said, “Let’s clean you up first.”

Harry proceeded to clean the boys’ wounds. The sponge was actually clever invention by Hermione, many years ago. This actually sterilised and healed minor wounds, but additionally amplified the pain for a few hours. It was a remarkable deterrent.

The arm wound was a little deeper than the sponge could cope with, so Harry resorted to using his wand for that.

“You’ll have to come up to the house to get bandaged,” Harry said packing away the first aid box.

“No, we’re okay.”

Harry gave a mock sigh of sympathy.

“You know the rule,” he said smiling. “If I use the box, Jane gets to play nurse.”

The boys groaned.

*

Harry was wiping away tears of laughter as Nurse Jane finished her work.

The two boys, alternately laughing and grimacing with pain, were now covered from head to toe in white bandaging. They had enjoyed playing patients as much as Jane had treating them. They’d even helped with the wrapping.

The two mummies were just about done when Hermione and Greta stepped out of the fireplace.

Hermione, still wearing her gown with wand and bone emblem, sat next to Harry as Greta chatted happily with the children.

She slipped her hand in his and whispered, “I’ve decided. It’s time.”

He turned to her, smiled and nodded.

Hermione had dedicated years as a Healer at St. Mungo’s, and Harry thought, she planned to spend many more years there too. However, Harry’s suggestion that he was ready to retire to his garden had got Hermione thinking.

Harry had by now almost entirely withdrawn from public life, dedicating his time to their extended family and his beloved garden.

Harry even formally gave up his seat on the Wizengamot, even though that was usually a lifelong appointment.

The one thing Harry didn’t give up, and he was sure that Hermione wouldn’t give up hers either, was his governorship of Hogwarts.

The elegant mantelpiece clock chimed gently. A wedding anniversary gift from Snape, the clock from the white room was the centrepiece of the room.

Harry had tried to get Snape to explain how he knew about the clock and the white room several times. Snape, who may have mellowed over the years but who still enjoyed the occasional waspish remark at Harry’s expense, insisted his intellect would never cope with such knowledge.

Harry didn’t mind really.

As he sat there with Hermione, he knew that here, with the family they had made, was his real place of contemplation.

The two of them couldn’t help laughing as the two boys competed to unwrap themselves first. Jane was trying to help them both as well, but for some reason the bandages kept re-wrapping themselves around the boys’ limbs.

END

AN: Well, that’s it. Thanks for reading and thanks to everyone for your kind comments. All are appreciated.

You probably realised, but the office described in the first chapter was from the 1980s, as was the Routemaster bus journey.

The building has long since been demolished but the back room where Harry was had an extraordinary bow in the main supporting wall. The heavy records store was directly above. The floor can only have been kept up by magic!

The inspiration for the Operations Room was, “The Royal Air Force Air Defence Radar Museum,” in Norfolk, which can be found at http://www.radarmuseum.co.uk/ (see “featuring”), although the pictures really don’t do the place justice.