A/N: So I know I said in my last note that the new place and the organized feel to my desk would result in more productive writing habits. Needless to say my desk is becoming cluttered again despite the fact that I now have about five times the room I used to [where do I get all this junk anyway?], and I haven't updated in, well.. I can't remember the last time I updated. I do have a valid excuse though, I swear! My boss assigned me the joyous task of cleaning all the equipment in the bakery as well as the bakery itself as an insurance adjuster was coming shortly, and he wanted the machines to look like how much they were worth. It's hard to see that they're shiny and fully functional under layers of caked on flour, so I've been working nearly ten hour days for quite a while shining the place up.
See? Legitimate excuse!
Bakery's clean now, however, and my boyfriend is watching golf so my only option to remain occupied is to write. Lucky for you lot, eh?
So on that note, I bring you an unexpected disclaimer that my dear Will hasn't had a chance to proofread or approve, so I'm sure the shit will hit the proverbial fan when he sees what I'm about to do to him. :D
Disclaimer:
"So this Will Turner thing's quite nice, actually," says Lang-Turner, trying to foil the author at her silly game. "Makes remembering my new name a bit easier when it's the same as the real one."
Crystal snorts a laugh as she twiddles her wand from one finger to another. "Will, Will, Will… My dear, I'd think you would have learned how we play this game by now."
He looks a touch worried. "Do I even want to know this time?" He glances around for something to hide behind, but as this is not his story, it's not going to happen.
"Heh, I suppose you should. After all, as this was an unplanned chapter due to the length of the last one, I didn't exactly get a chance to run your transformation by you before I wrote it. And as you're not on MSN right now and I can't be bothered to call you…"
"Alright, I get it! I'm unavailable, I should be punished, so just bloody well get on with it, would you? I have a website to get back to, or did you forget that we open by the end of October and you still haven't provided me with a decent layout?"
Crystal glares at him. "What do you want first, Will? A new chapter, or a new layout? Need I remind how you responded to the last one?" She stuck out her tongue at him, to let him know she wasn't really that mad.
He sighed. "I guess I'd rather have a new chapter before the end of October. Not to mention your other readers will kill you for not updating for three months."
"Even so, for your silly comment about my first layout, be it not-so-fantastic or not, it's time for payback." Crystal pointed her wand at him. "Do you remember what we discussed for what would have been the next chapter, and what Luna would be in accompaniment to your role?"
His face screwed up in concentration. "Um… no?"
A few wand flicks later and he was dutifully reminded.
William Lang stood front and centre in a short, vibrantly green dress that resembled a leaf, matching slippers with dandelion pom-pons, and the prettiest pair of glittering wings he had ever seen. Crystal thought it went wonderfully with his orange hair.
"Hello, TinkerWill. Care to say the magic words?"
He glared at her. "Oh, I'll get you for this…" He did his best to readjust the hemline so that it better covered his bits, but to no avail. "Harry Potter isn't yours, suing you is pointless, blah blah blah…"
"Thanks, TinkerWill."
"And go visit Firewhiskey.net! Or Firewhiskey.org! Both work!"
"Shut it, TinkerWill."
<><><><><>
Despite the unexpected and unwarranted appearance of Draco Malfoy, August had become a highly profitable month for the Gryffindor Trio. Thanks to Hermione's discovery of the method to destroy them, both the Cup and the Locket had been destroyed. They had found it highly ironic that the locket had been hidden in the safe house that was Number Twelve. After prying it from Kreacher's hidey-hole behind the furnace and returning to Godric's Hollow, they'd promptly dropped it in an iron cauldron full of Aqua Regis and destroyed the soul fragment within. The cup itself was a different matter entirely, as they had run out of the chemicals required for the solution. In the end Hermione had picked up the BMW, and driven back into London to pick up what they needed. Ron had rolled his eyes when she insisted on driving; reminding her that she was a witch and could easily Apparate to Eurochem. She had quickly reassured him that it wasn't that simple, and then showed him the car.
Pureblood wizard that he was, Ron was enough of a man that his magical nature had no bearing on his appreciation for a BMW roadster. He momentarily forgot to remember that he was not only a wizard, but that he also had no clue how to drive. Hermione had to pry him from the drivers' seat with the forceful reminder that there was a Horcrux waiting for them within the walls of Harry's childhood home, and that if she gave him the keys he'd most likely crash into something. The BMW was not the old Ford Anglia.
Needless to say, Ron went straight to Harry for the promise of driving lessons from Hermione and the chance to drive the car.
While she was off in London, Ron had become curious as to why they were using his parents' former home to destroy the Horcruxes. Harry explained the extreme version of a child-proofing charm on the house, and that it was the best idea as he new it would restore itself should something explode or go wrong.
Shortly after Hermione's return and the destruction of the Cup, they introduced Ron to the physical fitness room they had created. He was immediately fascinated by the Muggle equipment and found himself joining Harry and Hermione in their daily workouts. Hermione had developed a training regimen for the trio to follow, which included time at Godric's Hollow for physical exercise and at Hogwarts for magical training. With Hermione's brilliant research they had discovered several spells buried in obscure tomes at the library, and they quickly mastered them all. Even Ron.
With four weeks of physical fitness and defense training under their belts (plus a few more for Harry and Hermione), the Gryffindor Trio found themselves in top physical condition. Today was the day that all of that would finally come into play.
Today was the day of Tom Riddle's Death Eater Celebration Extraordinaire.
Tomorrow, the Hogwarts Express would be departing from King's Cross, most likely empty.
Five days earlier, in just enough time to discourage nearly every Hogwarts student from returning to school, Lord Voldemort's minions managed to hijack the Wizarding Wireless Network. He had broadcasted a chilling message that was enough to strike fear into the hearts of everyone listening, even the Ministry's most capable and accomplished Aurors.
<><><><><>
"I bid all those listening a good evening, and thank you in advance for choosing the Wizarding Wireless Network as your preferred method of entertainment for this evening. Tonight, you are in for quite the treat. Our program this evening is a personal selection of mine, and I daresay all those listening shall like it."
"Who is this knob?" asked Ron, glaring at the Wireless. It just so happened that on this particular night he, Hermione, and Harry had chosen to switch on the Wireless for some background noise during their research efforts.
Hermione shrugged. "Quite possibly some pompous newcomer who thinks he's king of the air-I've never heard his voice on the WWN before."
Harry, however, had felt the presence of goosebumps along his arms as this `pompous newcomer' began to announce the next program. He chose to remain silent in the commentary, and instead concentrate on whom the voice belonged to. He was almost sure of it, but for him to be speaking in such a polite manner? It was practically unheard of.
"But I digress, my dear listeners, for I have forgotten to introduce myself. I am Lord Voldemort, and I shall be your host for this evening."
Ron and Hermione gasped in disbelief.
"Now, why on earth would he want to take over the Wireless?" asked Hermione. Ron was frozen in shock and didn't even think to comment.
Well, thought Harry, that certainly clears that up.
"I, along with my followers, have commandeered the use of the Wizarding Wireless Network. I am here to make an announcement. Ladies, gentlemen, boys and girls, please gather closely around your speakers and make sure the whole family is listening, for what I am about to say will be of the utmost importance."
Ron snapped out of his trance. "Let's turn this rubbish off," he suggested, making for the dial.
"No!" shouted Harry and Hermione, swatting at Ron's fingers as they neared the Wireless.
"We have to see if he took the bait," reasoned Hermione.
"Allow me to repeat one last time, for those just tuning in. I am Lord Voldemort, and I'd suggest you pay close attention to what I am about to say."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh for Merlin's sake, get on with it!"
The trio gathered closely around the Wireless, listening carefully.
"I am Lord Voldemort, and The Boy Who Lived, your so-called Saviour of the Wizarding World, is dead. I, Lord Voldemort, have killed Harry Potter."
"Really likes titles, doesn't he?" snorted Harry, giving the Wireless a derisive glare. "I suppose this is the point where everyone in Great Britain goes mental."
Both Hermione and Ron shot him a glare. "Harry," began Hermione, "everyone in Great Britain is going mental right now. They don't know what we know. They don't know that Riddle killed a duelling dummy and that you're alive and perfectly well."
"Once more, for those who may just be tuning in now. I, Lord Voldemort, killed Harry Potter. Harry Potter is dead."
"Well, we know he's certainly enjoying himself," said Ron. "I've never heard someone speak with so much glee in their voice before."
"In light of this new, shall we say, era, I shall be hosting a party the likes of which London has never seen. In the heart of Diagon Alley on the thirty-first of August at eight in the evening, I invite my legions of Death Eaters to join me in celebration. I also extend the invitation to all those prospective followers of my cause, and anyone who realizes that pureblood is the only blood acceptable. Join me as we celebrate the death of my enemy, Harry Potter. We shall rejoice in my success, and for those who doubt me, I assure you that I have the proof. Harry Potter is dead. And I, Lord Voldemort, killed him."
With a snap and a crackle, the Wireless went silent once more.
The trio paused to look at one another. Finally, Ron broke the silence.
"It almost sounded like he was planning on hosting a bloody tea party," he said offhandedly, nearly chuckling at the image of known Death Eaters such as Lucius Malfoy and Barty Crouch Jr. (even though he was long gone by then) sitting down to a proper English afternoon tea. The mental image became even more amusing when he pictured them sitting down to a tea in the style of his mother, complete with trays laden with buttery scones and jam, and her best flowered china teapot. He nearly fell onto the floor laughing as he pictured Malfoy pouring Crouch Jr. a cup of tea from said flowered teapot, into an even flowerier cup and saucer.
"Ron," said Hermione in an angered tone, reminding him of the severity of the situation. "We have to tell the proper people that Harry is alright, starting with the more influential order members. Professor McGonagall is probably panicking right now, thinking that somehow Harry was kidnapped from the castle and tortured to death."
As if on cue, Professor McGonagall burst into the Gryffindor common room in a right state, her hand pressed over her fluttering heart as the other hand struggled to keep her hat on her head. "Harry! Oh thank goodness!" she exclaimed, enveloping him in the strangest hug of Harry's life. He'd never supposed the tartan-clad witch would embrace him, but who was he to complain? She was just glad he was all right.
She immediately demanded an explanation, which led to a very long night of Hermione and Professor McGonagall discussing her elaborate transfigurations on the duelling dummy, and her brilliant plan.
<><><><><>
"Are we ready?" asked Harry surveying the three people standing with him. On either side of him stood Ron and Hermione, clothed in robes that were a near perfect match of Death Eater attire. In front of him stood Nymphadora Tonks, who had volunteered to be the missing puzzle piece to the mission.
She wore a robe that was clearly made for a person far taller than her, and if one took a closer glance the thin silver and emerald piping would be visible as trim. Hermione had suggested the accents, after a careful study of Harry's memories in a pensieve. Her hair had been morphed into non-existence in preparation, and all it would take would be a few more quick morphs to achieve her goal.
"Ready, Harry," said the young Auror as she checked and rechecked her first and second wands in their Auror Standard Issue wrist and leg holsters. Hermione and Ron simply nodded, and Harry held out a Portkey. A quick tap of Tonks' wand and it activated, landing them an acceptable distance from The Leaky Cauldron.
The streetlamps were dark, as though some Dark wizard had gone along with a Put-Outer and snatched away their light. All around them were wizards in black robes and gruesome skull masks: Death Eaters clearly in attendance for the celebration.
It took the quartet the barest of inspections to get past the wizards guarding the entranceway to Diagon Alley. Their transfigured masks and black robes were good enough for the men at the brick wall, and they soon found themselves enveloped by a throng of Death Eaters that made the gathering outside look like a small get-together.
They stood with the rest of the Death Eaters as they waited for the clock to chime eight. As the last of the bells rang, a large stage appeared from thin air in front of the boarded up shop that was formerly Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlour. What the foursome saw at centre stage chilled them to the bone, even though they knew it was all an illusion.
In the centre of the stage was a large wooden stake anchored to the floor, with a lifeless figure bound to it. Even in what they thought was death, the Death Eaters still were overly cautious with the lifeless form of Harry Potter. The dummy's hair hung low on his forehead, hiding his sightless eyes. The conjured ropes that bound his wrists and ankles to the stake had rubbed away the exposed skin, leaving a raw and angry wound that did not bleed. After all, post-mortem injuries were incapable of bleeding, regardless of whether the deceased was magical or Muggle. Harry marvelled at Hermione's skill with magic, as he himself would never have thought to spell the dummy to that level of complexity. The brightest witch of her age had certainly thought of everything.
The Inner Circle Death Eaters began to file onstage in what resembled a practiced curtain call in a grand theatrical production. They formed a semi-circle around the stake, each one of them hidden behind masks. Despite the barrier of the crowd, Harry and his team could tell that they were all avoiding the direction of the stake. It gave him a twisted sense of pleasure to know that he frightened them to the point where they were fearful of what they thought was his corpse.
The crowd around them cheered so loudly that Hermione was sure her eardrums would burst, and she was tempted to place a Silencing charm on all of them. Had it been something that would not give away their position or mission, she surely would have. The Death Eaters were victorious, and seeing the members of Voldemort's Inner Circle was beginning to rile them up.
As if the presence of the Inner Circle, not to mention Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange, was not enough of a crowd pleaser, Lord Voldemort was not to be outdone by his followers.
In a flash of silver sparks, black smoke, and a conjured Dark Mark glittering before the haze, Tom Marvolo Riddle stepped out just as the snake of the Mark began to make its way out of the skull's mouth.
The Death Eaters went wild.
He raised his arms in a manner reminiscent of the Pope greeting the people of Vatican City from inside the Vatican itself, and revelled in his sway over his congregation. He began to speak to the crowd, reinforcing the Voldemort/Pope image that Harry currently had in his mind.
As Lord Voldemort swished his robes this way and that, and his creepy crimson stare bore into those closest to the stage, he began to preach his pureblood ideals to the assembled Death Eaters. It took nearly every ounce of control Ron had not to shout that Riddle was a half-blood himself, and his rubbish ideals were founded on idiocy, but he wisely restrained himself as Voldemort began to insist that to be of pure and noble blood was the only acceptable way of life.
The crowd surged forward at this, cheering and rejoicing. Hermione discovered for herself that her choice in Tonks' attire had been wise, as she was brought closer to the stage and Voldemort's presence than she would like. Harry decided that he'd swallowed enough of Voldemort's tripe for one afternoon, and led them through the crowd and around the back of the stage. They could still hear Riddle boasting about his triumph over Harry Potter and his grand demise as they watched Tonks prepare herself.
She raised her hood as she finished the morphing process she'd begun earlier. Adding several inches to her height and readjusting the shape of her body, she also darkened her eyes to a fiery scarlet and lightened her skin to an ashen grey. A few minor tweaks, a few test sentences to adjust her voice and a quick masking charm to make her wand appear as it should, and the image that Tonks now presented was positively frightening.
Gone was the bubbly fuchsia-haired witch they'd all come to love, and standing in front of the Gryffindor Trio was an eerie replica of Tom Riddle.
Tonks spread her arms and quickly enveloped the trio in a quick hug. "Good luck, you lot. Let's just hope that all goes well, alright?" She pressed a quick kiss to both Harry's and Ron's cheeks, and whispered words of encouragement in Hermione's ear. Despite the frightening façade she was currently portraying, the Trio could tell that Tonks was nervous and scared.
"Never thought I'd be kissed by You-Know-Who," said Ron, emitting a nervous laugh.
Tonks glared at him. "That was a good luck kiss from me," she emphasized, though she was still using the voice of Lord Voldemort.
"Right, err, this is a bit creepy for me so let's get on with it, shall we?" suggested Harry.
They went into action, with Ron and Hermione hiding under the stage beneath Harry's Invisibility cloak. Harry himself was Disillusioned and standing directly behind Tonks.
"Ready?" he whispered in her ear, biting back the bile that threatened to rise in his throat at the proximity of Voldemort/Tonks. This is Tonks, not Riddle. Tonks, he reminded himself mentally.
Tonks nodded, though it barely showed through her hood from Harry's position.
"Nagini," he hissed in Parseltongue, hoping beyond all hopes that this plan would work. "Nagini, your master summons you."
They waited on tense nerves for the oversized snake to appear. Sure enough, Nagini arrived moments later, apparently oblivious to the fact that the real Lord Voldemort was standing on the other side of the stage.
Harry continued to call to the snake, projecting his voice from behind Tonks as she moved her lips to imitate the snake language. Nagini rose her head and cocked it to one side, as if inspecting Voldemort's appearance.
Now, Harry! Hermione hissed in his head.
Springing from his place behind Tonks, Harry drew the Sword of Gryffindor from his belt and struck the snake, severing her head from her body. He silently thanked Minerva McGonagall for giving it to him the night of Voldemort's address on the Wireless.
The rest of Nagini's body fell away from her head as Ron and Hermione rushed from beneath the stage, wands drawn and prepared to shout the necessary spell to destroy the expected soul fragment.
Seconds passed.
Nothing happened.
They were all darting nervous glances at one another, Tonks perhaps more confused than the rest as Harry had not fully informed her of how they planned to destroy the soul fragment they believed to reside inside of Nagini.
"Well?" asked Hermione impatiently, looking at Harry.
He shrugged. "Give it a bit more."
They waited for a full two minutes, their hearts pounding.
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
"Why are we still staring at a dead snake?" asked Ron quietly.
"Because Nagini wasn't a Horcrux," said Harry rather dejectedly.
"What?" fumed Hermione. "Dumbledore said that-"
"Dumbledore was wrong!" Harry said rather tersely, doing his best not to raise his voice.
Tonks looked expectantly at the young couple. "Well? Now what?" she asked.
"We go to Phase Two," said Hermione cryptically.
"But Nagini wasn't a Horcrux!" argued Ron.
"We go to Phase Two," she repeated.
Tonks shrugged. "Can't argue with the girl, Ron. She's bloody brilliant, that one. I'll tell you now, she says jump, I say how high. Got it?"
With that, Tonks cast a Disillusionment charm on Nagini's body, so as to buy them some extra time. She morphed back to a more acceptable appearance, forgoing her usual bright hairstyle for a stringy black that rivalled that of Severus Snape. They carefully picked their way through the Death Eater crowd towards the back, but still within range of the stage. Ron and Tonks huddled close together; it was now Harry and Hermione's time, and they were merely observers in the grand scheme of things.
She turned to Harry, and silently slipped her hand into his, squeezing it. "Ready, love?" she asked.
He nodded, quickly kissed her on the lips, and headed towards the front of the crowd. As soon as Hermione saw he was in position, she took careful aim with her wand, and began to mutter under her breath.
"You are here to celebrate the death of Harry Potter, and the birth of the Pureblood Revolution!" Voldemort was saying, and the crowd cheered. "He stumbled upon a Portkey into my chambers, and made a pathetic attempt at duelling to save his own life. After exposing him to the Cruciatus he begged for me to kill him. The Great Harry Potter begged me to end his life."
A snort could be heard from the centre of the stage. Riddle swirled to face his Inner Circle, demanding to know who mocked him.
"Funny, I seem to remember reminding you that your father was a muggle and that you're, therefore, a half-blood, right before you again failed to kill me."
Every Death Eater in the crowd could be heard gasping in shock and surprise as Harry's head rose from where it hung, and his emerald eyes bore into those of Lord Voldemort's.
"Do you ever listen, Tom? You can't kill me. Try as you might, you've failed every time. Can't you just learn from your mistakes like everyone else does?" taunted the dummy.
Voldemort quickly recovered from his temporary frozen state of shock, and bore down on the stake at centre stage.
A few quick wand flicks from the back of the crowd and the dummy was released from his bindings, wand in hand and ready to fight.
"Sectumsempra!"
Riddle screamed as the spell cut into his flesh, and blood so dark it was nearly black began to ooze from the multitude of gashes across his exposed skin. In a flash Snape was by his side, wordlessly casting the countercurse he'd conveniently failed to write in his old Potions text, and helping the Dark Lord to his feet.
He rose and bound the dummy's wrists and ankles again, but Hermione's immaculate spellwork once again released him.
"So let me see," said the dummy with a sneer, "How many times is that now that you've tried and failed to kill me? Let's see, there was that time when I was a baby and your Killing Curse backfired. My first year at Hogwarts, while you were leeching off of Quirrel's head; your diary certainly made a valiant effort my second year."
He missed the indignant glare he received for insinuating that the Dark Lord kept a diary, of all things. After all, Tom Riddle had always preferred to think of it as a journal. Diaries were for girls, weren't they?
"You sent Dementors after me my third year, fat lot of good that did. And oh, let's not forget your little `Look at me, I'm Lord Voldemort, I'm back from the dead!' stunt you pulled in my fourth. Lovely one, that. And yet, with me cornered all by myself, and you, with your dearest friends surrounding you, you still couldn't kill me! You tried again and failed in the Department of Mysteries, and let's face it, that's what… One attempt, in one form or another, every year I've been at school, plus the one when I was a baby, and when you screwed up a few days ago? Malfoy, Lestrange, anyone up here care to do the simple math? Inbreeding can't prevent the ability to do sums, can it? Anyone? Can anyone tell me?"
The dummy was clearly going for broke, and was more than surprised that Voldemort hadn't already attempted to take him down.
"I suppose inbreeding does prevent basic skills in maths, but either way, the answer is eight. Eight times, Tom Riddle. Eight times you've tried to kill me, and eight times it's failed. Tell you what-I'll give you a free shot. Right here, right now."
The dummy tucked his wand into the pocket of his jeans, and spread his arms wide. He even dropped to his knees in a submissive pose.
Voldemort was clearly rattled. It defied all logic, he saw the boy die! But he would not take his chances again. He gingerly stepped around The Boy Who Dared To Tell Off The Dark Lord, and struck a pose behind him with his wand high in the air and his hand resting on top of his messy black hair.
The crowd cheered, and some had even begun to think that this was a spectacle planned by Lord Voldemort himself as entertainment. Spurred on by his followers, the Dark Lord bent to hold his wand against the dummy's neck.
"I'm going to enjoy this," he whispered, "the Killing Curse may not be strong enough for you, boy, but there's no possible way that even you could survive after I drain every ounce of blood from your body."
He closed his eyes in triumph, wordlessly cast the Diffindo charm, and sliced his wand tip from one side of the dummy's neck to the other.
Another audible gasp was heard from the crowd, and Lord Voldemort relished in the appreciation. He was so caught up in the moment that he did not notice the lack of blood spilling over his fingers, or the lack of a body in front of him.
A quick tap on the shoulder righted that situation.
"Um, Voldie? You missed."
With those words, a cold blade of steel was pressed against Riddle's throat.
His eyes flew open as he realized that somehow, once again, Potter had escaped his grasp to come out on top. And now he was holding a very sharp, very Gryffindor sword against his flesh.
"I'm giving you a chance, Riddle. Leave now, or die. Leave, and remain hidden until I call you out to finish this thing once and for all." The real Harry whispered into his ear. "Remember your Horcruxes? They're not an issue anymore," he added to Voldemort's surprise.
For the first time in his life, Voldemort was truly, mortally afraid of Harry Potter.
"Leave, Tom. Or I'll kill you right here, in front of all your Death Eaters."
Understanding that there was no threat, merely a promise, in Harry's words, Tom Riddle took the boy's advice and left.
With his Disapparition the wards around the Alley broke down, and each and every Death Eater quickly ran off by various methods. Some quite literally ran, while others had the good sense to Apparate, take a Portkey, or find the nearest Floo.
Harry turned to face his friends with a triumphant smile on his face. "It's over. At least, for now," he said as he rushed towards them. After a quick group hug, Tonks reactivated their Portkey and they returned to Hogwarts.
<><><><><>
"Blimey, mate, that was bloody brilliant!" exclaimed Ron as the trio tumbled into the Gryffindor common room. They had thanked Tonks profusely before she went on her way to report back to McGonagall, and now they were ready to celebrate their triumph.
"Which part?" asked Harry with a grin that was nearly too wide for his face.
"The part where she vanished the dummy and you Apparated on stage! I don't get it, how'd you do it!?"
With a summoned bottle of Firewhiskey and a set of glasses, Harry poured himself and Ron a generous measure while leaving it up to Hermione how much she wished to partake. "Well, Ron, I can Apparate in and out of Hogwarts. So can Hermione. A few wards aren't going to stop me anymore," he said, raising his glass in a toast.
Ron downed his in one gulp. "Sorry, mate, thought you just said you and Hermione could Apparate through Hogwarts."
They both stared at Ron. "We can."
Ron gulped, without the accompaniment of Firewhiskey. "Oh. How?"
Hermione was about to launch into a full-blown explanation of their newly acquired skill when Harry laid a gentle hand on her thigh to calm her. "Dobby somehow gave us house elf magical abilities, and now we can Apparate like they can."
Nodding, Ron downed some more of the fiery alcohol. "Right then. Think he'll share with me, too?"
Harry shrugged, joining Ron in another toast. "You'd have to ask him."
As Ron went off in search of Dobby, not wanting to be left out in these Apparition abilities, Harry turned to Hermione with a serious expression on his face.
"So if it wasn't Nagini, then what is it?" he asked.
Hermione experienced a rare moment just then. It was one of the few times in her life where she didn't have an answer. "I-I don't know Harry. I'll keep looking, I promise. We won't stop until we find it."
<><><><><>
The morning after the Death Eater party in Diagon Alley, Harry made a personal visit to the Broadcasting Station of the WWN, and made an announcement of his own. That day was September 1st.
"To everyone and anyone listening, I'd like to make an announcement that is quite the opposite of what Voldemort had you all believe." He could practically hear the scandalous gasps at his saying the unspeakable name. "My name is Harry Potter. And I'm not dead. I'm not going to sit here and spout reasons as to why you should believe me, but I will offer this: To all Hogwarts students and their families, please be at King's Cross today. With special arrangements, the train will now be leaving at two this afternoon to accommodate this announcement and give everyone time to prepare. Hogwarts is safe, regardless of what Voldemort would have you all think. The school is reopening, and you are all encouraged to attend. I will remind everyone that we are in the middle of a war, but we must NOT let Voldemort run our lives. Continue with your normal way of life, and if that means attending Hogwarts, I expect to see every student from every house at Platform 9 ¾ this afternoon."
He paused and glanced at the man helping him with the broadcast. The man nodded, indicating that the message was indeed going out and there were indeed people listening.
"Again, Hogwarts is open. The Hogwarts Express departs from King's Cross at two this afternoon. I, Harry Potter, am most definitely alive and well, and I look forward to seeing all of my fellow classmates once again. For those of you not attending Hogwarts, I invite you to join us at King's Cross as well if you truly need further reassurance of my existence. The train leaves at two o'clock sharp, so please, be there!"
Later that afternoon, Harry looked around in shock.
Though needless to say, not only was King's Cross flooded with witches and wizards of every age and gender vying for a glance of Harry to verify that he was indeed alive, but Hogwarts attendance was at its highest ever.
Despite Nagini not being the last, elusive Horcrux that they had believed her to be, Harry Potter and company had once again triumphed over Lord Voldemort, and come out on top.
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