The Third Day

jardyn39

Rating: PG13
Genres: Angst, Drama
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 10/06/2006
Last Updated: 10/06/2006
Status: completed

The tenth anniversary of the fall of Voldemort is almost upon them, but the three consecutive days marked on Ron's calendar have little to do with the wizarding world's celebrations. Harry Potter's annual torment is about to begin again, but this year it might well be interrupted as his friends conspire behind his back. Are they really prepared for the Last Third Day?

Chapters

1. The Third Day

1. The Third Day

The Third Day

by Jardyn39

Extract from the Sunday Prophet Supplement Pages

Ten years ago next Sunday, writes Rita Skeeter Special Correspondent, the Wizarding World emerged from what has to be one of the darkest periods in modern history.

The fall of You-Know-Who came as suddenly and unexpectedly as the moment when he returned.

Few of us dared even hope that he could be defeated, such was the extent of his relentless victories in crime towards the end.

Even now there are doubters that he has been finally vanquished and the Ministry have never found the body. Of course, some of his infamous Death Eaters still continue to cause problems, but over the last few years the Ministry Aurors have caught and imprisoned most of the fugitives.

This year's anniversary celebrations will do far more than mark ten years of peace.

For the first time, the individual widely credited with finally defeating You-Know-Who will be present at the celebrations.

Once again, as in previous years, the Daily Prophet has been granted exclusive interview rights by the Ministry of Magic. Unfortunately, our reluctant hero has declined to tell his story up to now. Ever since his outrageous incarceration in Azkaban, he has steadfastly refused to talk publicly nor co-operate with the official Ministry investigation.

However, no doubt reacting to the mounting public pressure, he has finally consented to speak at the annual Victory Dinner, announcement of which resulted in an extraordinary clamour for tickets to the charity event.

Our hero will walk free on Tuesday to begin a new life, the Authorities having responded at last to this publication's nationally supported campaign for his early release.

It has long been our contention, and indeed that of many influential readers, that there was no credible evidence to convict him in the first place. Why he refused to appeal against his conviction remains a mystery.

Anticipation of his words is palpable. People up and down the country have spoken of little else for weeks, and indeed this Reporter has herself written several speculative articles.

For the first time, this year speeches will be broadcast live over the Wizarding Wireless Network and up to the minute transcripts will be available for subscribers through official news outlets. These facilities have been requested by the Ministry, apparently because in the past some publications have fallen below the high standards the Daily Prophet has always maintained. Allegedly they have been less than accurate in their reporting.

Of course, people will want to know far more than our hero is planning to reveal in his speech. Rumours of an imminent engagement announcement refuse to die down months after this Publication's exclusive report …

Monday Evening

Ron Weasley screwed up his Sunday edition of the Daily Prophet with some vigour before he collected up the various scraps of parchment on his desk and threw the entire lot into the bin behind his chair.

“That old cow!” he thought. “Harry'll go nuts.”

This particular copy was showing signs of the abuse Ron had heaped upon it over the last two days. This was actually the first time he’d managed to read it through entirely before screwing it up and throwing it somewhere.

It was now early evening and once again Ron was the last one to leave the office.

As he listened to the bin munching through his paper scraps, Ron's eyes fell once more upon his wall calendar. Inevitably he looked straight at the three successive days that were highlighted in bold red ink.

“Four days to go.”

Less than a week before it would begin all over again.

Without looking he reached for his pocket diary and opened it out in front of him. The same three days were again highlighted in red, but each day of the diary had scribbled notes. There were many corrections and crossings out.

Ron leaned back in his chair, thinking. He should really make a move and get home at a decent time for once. Especially this week, when he was bound to be busy later on.

“Has it really been ten years?”

The newspapers had been running background stories for weeks now. As usual, they could be relied upon to whip themselves up into a frenzy by the end of the week.

“Perfect timing,” he thought. “Just perfect.”

Ron considered the preparations he had made for The Three Days. He had decided against taking the days either side off from work as well this year. Last time he had spent a whole day at his desk in a vain attempt to get away anyway. He also fully expected to be back in St Mungos on the fourth day too.

“There isn't a fourth day! Don't start something else.”

No. It was Three Days, not four. Three.

Three days were more than enough to cope with.

Ron reached over and picked up one of the framed photographs he kept on his desk. It was one of his favourites, with Hermione and Harry standing together in the Burrow’s orchard. It was a magical photograph, but they hardly moved at all these days.

Whenever he and Luna had an argument, all their photographic counterparts would sulk moodily at opposite sides of the frames until they made up in real life.

The fact that, in this photograph, Harry and Hermione preferred to stay together gave him continued optimism, despite everything.

He had by now all but given up hope that Hermione would get in touch before the weekend. It had been months since he had seen her, and she had seemed more nervous than ever. He’d been tempted to try another owl, but they had always come back still carrying their messages.

“Harry,” he thought.

Ron decided he would be there early, this year. Five o'clock in the morning.

“No, better make that four o'clock.”

He'd almost been too late last year and Harry was already getting moodier by the day.

Ron’s main preoccupation was Saturday. On Friday, Ron knew where Harry would be in the morning. That hadn’t changed for years now. Harry would then give him the slip and do something stupid.

He’d sometimes caught up with him the next morning, but not every year. So far, Harry had always managed to get away again and wouldn’t be seen until hours later.

This was the time when Harry was most upset and dangerous, both to himself and others.

Whereas Friday’s antics might be stupid, Saturday’s would be menacing. Ron shuddered remembering the dark tortured look Harry had given him last year before he finally managed to bring him home again.

On the actual day of the anniversary, Harry would actually be quiet and withdrawn. It had always been futile to try and engage him then.

This year had to be different, though. Somehow, he would have to keep Harry out of trouble. Otherwise their plans for Sunday would be scuppered before the day even started.

Ron sighed deeply and rose to his feet. His diary jumped off the desk and dived into one of his pockets. He casually gathered the rest of his things and with a swift flick of his wand extinguished all the lanterns before making his way down to the lobby.

Ron resolutely ignored the colourful poster that had been put up in the lift.

He had been personally excused from attending the advertised memorial concert by none less than the Minister of Magic himself. It didn’t help that the new Minister particularly resented the fact that his predecessor, Rufus Scrimgeour, had promised them jobs for life at the Ministry if they wanted them.

Harry had declined the offer at the time; but then he could afford to.

This year's concert had actually set a new personal record for Ron; he had been assigned other duties no less than two days after the previous annual event.

“I mean, do they really think that Harry’d turn up and start firing hexes into the audience?”

He didn't actually mind missing the concert for himself, but he burned with anger at the unfairness of the whole thing. The concert was actually aimed at families with young wizarding children, and he knew Luna wanted them to go as a family, even if she pretended it didn’t matter.

“It shouldn't have happened this way.”

Ron exited the lift before the gates had finished opening and walked across the polished hardwood floor towards the security desk.

The security watch-wizard hastily hid his copy of the Monday edition Evening Prophet, knowing Ron was liable to take exception to almost every headline these days.

"Hi, Bert. I’ve had enough for this evening, but I just wanted to go over your schedule for the rest of the week," said Ron.

"Er, I'm on nights until Thursday."

"Okay," said Ron looking down the roster. "What about Friday onwards?"

"No-one is available. I assumed we were okay to close the place."

"The Ministry of Magic never closes," Ron reminded him. "Why isn't anyone available? It isn't a Public Holiday, or anything. The usual rosters should apply."

"You know as well as I do that even if you assign someone, they won't turn up."

Ron knew this to be perfectly true. Most wanted to be home with their families. The rest wanted to be somewhere safe.

It was always so strange, but at this time of year, even rational people feared that Harry would turn up and exact some terrible revenge. Of course, they had no idea what that revenge might be for, but people were genuinely scared. The fear was even there before all the newspaper stories started in earnest.

It was no secret that Harry had problems since Voldemort’s defeat. Ron supposed people assumed his troubles were due to an inner turmoil. After all, he must be a Dark Wizard, mustn’t he?

The fact that, so far at least, Harry hadn't actually gone berserk hadn't made much of an impression so far.

“Well, he hasn't gone berserk in Public, anyway,” thought Ron dryly. “After all, that Death Eater party didn’t count and the Daily Prophet offices were practically empty those times.”

Ron, unlike almost everyone else, also had the unenviable knowledge that if Harry needed to seek revenge, he ought to be the first in line to receive it.

Well, maybe second, after Malfoy.

He kept reminding himself that it had been a genuine mistake. The reporter had asked a question and he’d answered without even thinking. The reporter repeated his answer as he wrote it down, but had it wrong.

Unfortunately, Harry had pulled him away before Ron had a chance to correct him, and later asked him to stick with that untruth.

"What are you doing, Bert?"

"Me? What about you? A few nights would do you the world of good. You could finish all those reports."

Ron snorted.

"Believe me, I would if I could. How come you know about my missing reports?"

"Well, you know how things get around. Browne hasn't stopped moaning."

Ron smiled, pleased that he'd managed to annoy his boss’ boss.

"He hasn't said anything to me," said Ron innocently.

Bert laughed loudly and said, "Yeah, well he can't afford to upset you this week, can he?"

Ron smiled and said ruefully, "Yeah, but just wait until the week after. So, what's the headline tonight?"

"You really don't want to know."

"That good, eh? Anyway, I suppose we'll have to close the place down."

"Even the day shift?" Bert asked hopefully. "It hardly seems worth keeping the place open, does it?"

Tuesday

Harry Potter sat on a low timber stool and stared down at the smooth York stone paving at his feet. Most of the flags fitted together with the joints barely visible. Under his feet, however, a flag stone looked like it was a recent replacement and the joints were uneven. It was almost like the stone was trying to fit back in but couldn’t quite manage it.

He shifted his weight slightly, smiling to himself.

Only a wizard, he mused, could make a three legged stool that wobbled.

Harry didn't need to look up to know who was making tutting noises at him.

"Potter," drawled Draco Malfoy. "I would never have believed that even you could allow yourself to get into this state. You're looking quite as shabby as Lupin used to."

A tired Harry sighed and looked up.

Malfoy's sneer seemed permanently attached to his face these days.

Harry shifted slightly on his wobbling stool and Malfoy immediately pushed himself back from the Azkaban cell bars.

Harry smiled to himself, pleased that even after all these years Malfoy still feared him.

Malfoy relaxed once he realised Harry wasn't going to try anything.

"Now, now, Potter. You really must behave yourself."

"Really?"

"I can see I shall have to have words with the Governor again."

"I'm sure he's looking forward to being granted an audience."

"I've an appointment to see him in a few minutes actually."

Harry was too tired to let Malfoy bait him.

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

"Well, first of all, I'd like to draw your attention to the new artwork that I've had put up in your honour."

Harry rolled his eyes but couldn’t help his eyes then following to where Malfoy was pointing. Through the bars, Harry watched as Malfoy walked over to the wall behind him and made a small bow before presenting the newest framed copy of the Daily Prophet.

Harry groaned. All he could see was the headline. Indeed, all he could see on any of the many framed newspaper cuttings were the headlines. Of course, that was the entire point. They were only hung there, out of reach, to annoy him and amuse Malfoy.

"Like it?"

"Is Potter Insane?" Harry read. "I think Rita's losing her touch."

"Oh, the article more than makes up for the headline, I can assure you. Would you like me to read it to you?"

"As kind as your offer is, Malfoy, I might just have to rip your throat out if you tried."

"Tsk! Tsk, Potter. What kind of attitude is that?"

"What else do you want?"

"Not much," said Malfoy lightly, examining his perfectly manicured fingernails. Then he suddenly hammered on the bars between them and yelled, "GIVE ME BACK MY GOLD!"

Harry grinned back at him.

"Your gold?"

"The Wizengamot awarded the return of my father's estate to me, Potter! I want that gold back! Hand it over, and I might just let you live."

"Well, first of all, that gold was stolen by your idiot dad from Voldemort."

Malfoy jerked violently.

"Secondly, I'm not about to give you gold just so you can pay the bribe money you owe. You do have my sympathy, though. It must be really embarrassing not to have enough gold to pay those Wizengamot members with. I imagine they'll be quite upset with you."

"Oh, I've enough gold for that, Potter, don't you worry," said Draco smoothly. "Father managed to hide some funds from the Ministry."

"Really? Even the gold you re-buried in Penzance?"

"What?"

Harry shrugged and said, "We found some gold in Penzance. I assumed it was yours. You re-buried it there, after all."

Malfoy looked furious, much to Harry's delight.

"You'll regret this, Potter."

Harry stood and Malfoy pushed himself away from the bars. Harry walked forward two steps and Malfoy took an uncertain step backwards.

"If there was any justice, Malfoy, you'd be an inmate here for a hundred years."

Malfoy's sneer returned.

"Oh, but there is justice, Potter. I'm innocent, didn't you know?"

"Innocent?"

"Well, unlike you I was pardoned. That's as good as innocent, isn't it?"

"Remember, Malfoy, I know the truth. I know what really happened."

"Truth? The truth is what people think happened. After all, all those newspapers couldn't be wrong, could they?"

Malfoy was barely able to control his grin.

They heard a key being turned in a lock and they both turned to see two prison guards enter.

"Stand away from the bars," one ordered. "Any trouble, and you won't be taking that boat off the island. This is the last boat before the anniversary celebrations."

There was a loud clunk and the grid of heavy bars rose up into the ceiling leaving a clear gap of a few feet between Harry and Malfoy.

"Let's be having you!" shouted the second guard. "You can’t keep the Governor waiting."

Neither prisoner nor visitor moved.

Malfoy was too scared to close the distance between himself and Harry; Harry didn't trust himself not to hurt Malfoy badly if he came within reach.

Two more guards entered.

Finally, Harry said, "Don't worry, Malfoy. That gold went to Wizarding and Muggle good causes all over the country. Every Knut worth."

Malfoy yelled with fury and dived at Harry, only to fall immediately unconscious at his feet.

The guard that had just hit him held his heavy looking truncheon up at Harry.

"Do I need to use this again?"

Harry held his hands up and shook his head. He couldn't resist smiling as two of the guards levitated Malfoy up and floated him out of the room. His head smacked painfully on the door lintel as he passed through.

"Shame, really," observed the guard that had hit him. "He's going to miss his little chat with the Governor."

Harry caught on.

"Was the Governor looking forward to it?"

"He'll be simply devastated, I'm sure."

Harry snorted, suspecting that the Governor had given orders that Malfoy should on no account remain conscious enough to spoil his boat trip back to the mainland.

"Well?" prompted the guard.

"Sorry?" said Harry, coming out of his reverie.

"You'd better hurry if you are going to catch the boat. I imagine you'd be missed if you were missing for the celebrations."

Harry smiled sadly and followed. The remark had been meant kindly, but he would dearly have loved to find himself a nice solitary cell and stay right here for a week.

He took a little comfort in the support that the Governor and his guards had shown him. They were amongst the few that had heard first hand most of the confessions that had been made in Azkaban.

Of course, it also helped considerably that they didn't get the Daily Prophet editions when the weather was too bad for the owls to fly.

"How many are staying on duty?" asked Harry on their way out.

"Oh, just a skeleton crew. The boat will be full on the crossing back."

Harry nodded and stepped out into the outside air. In front of him the rocky path led straight down to the small berth.

"Mr Potter!"

Harry turned to see a Guard running out towards him.

"You forgot your wand, Sir."

Harry smiled and took the wand.

"Thanks. Davis, isn't it?"

"Yes, Sir."

"You staying on?"

"Yes, Sir. I need the overtime and I'll get time off as well after the weekend."

Harry smiled and nodded.

"I hope it stays quiet for you. You're joining the Auror Department next month, aren't you?"

"Well, I'm hoping so, Sir. I'm hoping to use the time to study, actually. I still need to pass the application test."

"Well, I look forward to seeing you."

Harry shook Davis' hand and then hurried down to the waiting boat.

Wednesday

Harry turned over onto his back. He just couldn't sleep. He couldn't even remember the last night he'd had a good night's sleep.

Was it Friday? No. The Monday before last.

Somehow he just knew he wouldn't sleep now for days.

Three days, to be precise.

He kept asking himself the same question that had occupied his thoughts for ages. Why did the anniversaries of three of the worst days in his life have to fall on three successive days?

He turned over again and opened his eyes. It wasn't even three o'clock in the morning yet. The darkness seemed to press against his eyes.

Three days.

Harry sighed deeply. He was tempted to get up right now and go early. Not that it would do any good. He’d still be drawn back there again when the three days began.

Can't go early. You'd only make Ron more jumpy.

Harry smiled to himself. Ron looked forward to this time of year almost as much as he did. The exception was that Ron dreaded what trouble Harry would get into each year.

The problem was that the newspapers knew that if they goaded him enough he could be guaranteed to do something stupid.

He had left early last year and Ron had turned up just in time to stop him incinerating a couple of reporters who had been waiting for him.

Thank goodness for Mrs Weasley.

She had seen something going on at the bottom of her garden and had sent Mr Weasley out to investigate.

Don't think about that. Leave the agonising until Friday.

*

Harry entered the Auror Department and headed straight for Browne's office. Ron appeared from a cubicle and stood in his way.

"Hi, Ron. I'll see you in a minute."

Ron refused to move.

"No, Harry. You are coming with me before you get into trouble. Browne is spitting mad with you."

"Why?"

"Malfoy has made another complaint about you. Apparently you hit him when he tried to leave the cell."

"I did no such thing!"

"Yes, but Browne thinks he should take Malfoy's word over what you and four Azkaban Guard eye witnesses have to say."

Harry furiously tried to step around Ron but found his way blocked again.

"Harry, you won't help yourself, mate. Come with me down to my office?"

"Why are you up here anyway?"

"You mean, keeping you out of trouble might not be my full time job?"

"Has Browne been ordering you around again? You don't even work for him!"

"Yes, but since my Department Head wants nothing but an easy life, preferably one in which Browne plays no part at all, I'm stuck with him."

Ron had by now almost got Harry to the door.

"POTTER!"

"Ha!" said Harry, pulling himself free.

"Harry, please don't do anything stupid?"

Browne appeared at his office door and yelled again.

"Potter! Get in here now! Weasley, go and do my reports!"

*

"So?"

"So, what?" Harry relied angrily, slumping into a chair next to Ron's desk and kicking his waste basket so hard it bounced off two walls.

"Went well then did it?"

"I'm not suspended, but I'm ordered to be anywhere Malfoy isn't for the foreseeable future."

"Yeah, he wanted to suspend you without pay, but I pointed out you'd be free to do what you wanted then. This way you'll have to follow orders."

Harry snorted.

"Yes, I always follow orders, don't I?"

"Well, this year I wondered if you'd stay out of trouble, just for a change, you know?"

Harry didn't reply.

"I'm surprised you didn't ask for a cell in Azkaban."

"I was sorely tempted, but the only one they had free was Malfoy's old cell. He's added some decorations since the last time I was there too."

"Alright," said Ron. "So what are you going to do for the rest of the week?"

"What day is it today?"

"Wednesday, Harry."

"Aren’t I doing something tonight?"

"Yes, you are coming to us for dinner and then babysitting while we go out."

Harry brightened up at once. Ron and Luna's two young children never failed to lift his spirits, whatever his mood.

"Are you sure you can trust me? I mean, I might start making them anti-Malfoy."

"Oh, they've heard far worse than you could ever tell them on that score."

"What time will I be late?"

Ron snorted.

"You'll never know that, because you are sticking with me for the rest of the day."

Harry groaned.

"I need something to kick."

"You know where my waste basket is."

"I’m too lazy to summon it back. I wonder where Malfoy is?"

"He's probably finalising he speech. You know, explaining why his head was in bandages."

Harry smiled.

"Who are you getting to Nanny me?"

"Ginny thought you might actually be responsible enough on your own tonight. She said you managed quite well on nappy duty last week."

"Oh, does that mean what I think it means?"

"Yup! You know it's impossible to get a decent babysitter this time of year? Besides, how much trouble can one baby be?"

Harry shook his head.

"I should report you all as irresponsible parents leaving me to look after those poor children."

"Actually," said Ron, in altogether a different tone, "speaking seriously for one moment. We all thought that you having charge of the kids would be a good thing. I can't think of anyone else you wouldn't abandon and go off and get into trouble."

"True."

"That said, I'm thinking of designating Leon as the responsible adult."

"Hey, Leon is only seven years old! Come to think of it, it was his idea to bring the fish pond inside so the carp didn't get too cold."

"He’s almost eight, Harry. The other thing I wondered," continued Ron, trying hard to forget his attempts to restore the twelve foot wide pond before Luna got home, "was whether you'd consider telling them a bedtime story."

"Oh, great idea, Ron!" said Harry derisively. "Luna almost skinned me alive for telling them that ghost story."

"Harry, the story was fine. You pretending to be a ghost was less funny."

"I wasn't scaring the children! They were being ghosts too!"

"Yes, well you were pretty damn convincing, that's all I can say. I didn't sleep for a week after seeing your three heads floating through the living room walls."

Harry chuckled and said, "That one was Flora's idea. I did put my foot down when they wanted to spray the walls with blood too."

"Hey, there was a point I wanted to make there!"

"Sorry, Ron. What point?"

"Well, I was wondering," Ron said slowly, getting back on track.

"Er, yes?"

"Why don't you tell them the story."

"What?"

"Harry, they were both born after You-Know-Who was finished."

Harry stiffened at once, his good humour quickly evaporating.

"They are bound to be curious. They are old enough to know we are celebrating something very special."

Harry looked down.

"Why not tell them what really happened?" Ron asked gently. "Or would you rather they believe the rubbish version the Prophet would have us all believe?"

"Maybe that would be better."

"Lies would be better than the truth?"

"No," Harry admitted.

Just then someone came into the office and sat at a desk several feet away. The wizard paused to look around the room, no doubt wondering why there was now a waste paper basket lying sideways on his desk. Just seeing Harry in the room seemed to explain this odd phenomena and he proceeded to place the basket on the floor.

As they were no longer alone, Ron relented from pushing Harry further.

Now, more than ever, he felt for his best friend. Not only would he have to suffer The Three Days as usual, but this year he would have the added pressure of Malfoy being released.

Harry had spent months tracking Malfoy down and he’d finally had him incarcerated at Azkaban three years ago. Despite what it said in the Prophet, Malfoy had used every means at his disposal to stay out of jail and had absconded three times whilst awaiting trial. His appeal had begun before the trial was even over.

All this would be bad enough, if it weren't for the plans his friends had in store for Harry this year.

Ginny had started it, complaining that they needed to crack Harry open. He had told absolutely no-one about what really happened that terrible night. He was still suffering but none of them know why or how they could help him.

The idea that they would prime the children to ask him awkward questions was actually a good one. They knew that Harry had never lied to them, and had never avoided telling them the truth about anything.

If Harry could tell two very young children about what really happened, perhaps he would be more receptive to tell someone else. Maybe one day, he might even tell them.

Of course, whilst it might be prudent to warn Harry about the children's interest, they had all agreed that Harry must on no account learn the next phase of their diabolical plan.

"Ron?"

"Sorry, Harry. Miles away! What?"

"I said, can I get you a cup of tea while I'm out?"

"Out? No, Harry. There's no out for you today!"

*

Harry conjured extremely tall chef's hats for himself and his two over-eager assistants before they made dinner for everyone. Harry also made a baby sized one for their youngest assistant, but as she was sleeping for once, they all agreed it would be best not to put it on her just yet.

Ginny, Neville, Ron and Luna all sat patiently at the dining table, each wearing oversized bright yellow southwesters and matching storm hats that the children insisted Harry conjure for them. Whilst the children didn't particularly care about keeping the elaborate evening costumes clean, they did enjoy watching them attempt to eat in them.

Of course, the four hardly ate anything as they were going to have their meal out. They had portions the same sized as the children, only most of theirs somehow vanished before they got to eat very much.

A little before seven o'clock, Harry vanished all the remaining uneaten food and the southwesters so they could say their goodbyes.

While Harry and Flora complemented Ginny on her dress across the room, Ron observed his friend laughing and joking like he hadn't a care in the world. It was all just an act, of course; an act he would not be able to keep up when the Three Days started.

Neville came over to Ron. With his back to Harry, Neville raised his eyebrows enquiringly.

Ron nodded nervously and Neville turned to say goodbye to the children, asking if his yellow storm hat went with his black evening suit.

*

"Uncle Harry?"

"Mm?" replied Harry.

The two children were sitting either side of him on the large settee now, the baby lying awake but quiet in Harry's arms. It was the first quiet moment they'd had since Harry had arrived. In front of them the floor was strewn with toys and games.

Mrs Weasley had given Harry some very good advice about babysitting that he'd always followed without fail. He now insisted that they all sit quietly for a few minutes before bedtime. The better behaved they were, the longer they were allowed to say up.

This was the time they generally talked.

"Where have Mum and Dad gone?"

"They've all gone to a dinner and dance. There are lots of them this time of year. Maybe you'll be old enough to go too next year."

"Mum said they wanted to go to the one at Hogwarts, only they couldn't."

"The dinner at Hogwarts is on Sunday. That's the main celebration where everyone who thinks they are important stands up to make a speech. It'll be very boring, I promise you."

"What's a celebration?"

Harry did not answer at once. Leon and Flora were extraordinarily bright for their young age. When they asked something he was sure they already knew, Harry tended to tread carefully.

"A bit like Christmas, only without presents. It's a time of year when families like to get together, which is why I'm sure your Mum and Dad want to be with you rather than listening to some speeches. You'll be at the Burrow with your Gran and Granddad like last year."

"You'll be there too, won't you?"

"Maybe."

"Dad said you don't like this time of year much. He said-"

"Shh! Mum said we mustn't say that."

Harry smiled and looked down at them both.

"It's true. I don't like this time of year, but I've never minded anything you've said to me."

"Well, how come-"

"No! Mum said we mustn't ask!"

Harry laughed.

"Leon, you can ask me anything. I may not answer, of course, but I won't be annoyed with you."

Leon looked doubtfully up at him.

"We'll still get into trouble when Mum and Dad find out."

"Well, I wouldn't want that. I promise not to tell them if you'll promise me the same. You mustn't tell a soul."

"Okay."

"Okay."

They laughed gently as Ann made a sleepy baby noise, apparently agreeing as well.

"Good. So what do you want to know?"

"Why did we have to promise not to tell?"

"Simply because I'd prefer it that way. You see, I've never told anyone what really happened. It isn't really a secret, but I've always found it too upsetting to talk about it."

"Did you really know You-Know-Who?"

"Yes."

"Is he really dead?"

"Yes, I saw him die. He took a bit of me with him."

"Were Mum and Dad there as well?"

"They were fairly close by, yes, but I was alone with him at the end. Well, as good as."

"Did you kill him?"

Harry blinked back the tears that were prickling the corners of his eyes.

"Are you sure you want to hear this?"

"Yes!"

"Well, I may find some of it too difficult to tell. I don't want any argument if I decide to stop, okay?"

"Okay," came two timid voices.

"The other thing concerns his name. I'll only tell you his story, if you both speak his true name. Right?"

"Dad never says the name."

"That's my condition."

"What's his name then?"

"The name he was born with was Tom Riddle, but the name everyone is afraid to say, is Lord Voldemort."

"Was he a dark wizard? What did he do?"

"I'm sorry," said Harry with a small smile, "I haven't heard you say his name yet."

*

Harry washed up the few remaining cups and then dried his hands. The children were at last in bed, having exhausted both themselves and their supply of questions.

He was thankful that they were too tired to have nightmares about what he'd just told them.

He had sat on the bottom of the stairs listening to a whispered conversation through the last surviving Weasley Extendible Ear. He wasn't interested at all in their conversation, but he was concerned that he may have frightened them by telling them the entire truth.

He had actually told much of the story leading up to the final confrontation was well. He’d had to recap Dumbledore’s death and his own escape as a child.

The worst thing was talking about all the deaths, especially of so many Hogwarts students.

Harry smiled as he listened to the children sharing their amazement at the part their parents played in the final battle. It had never occurred to him that Ron and Luna wouldn't tell them everything from their perspective. They had saved many lives between them that day.

No doubt he would be blamed when they both demanded to see their medals and hear first hand the real reasons they were awarded.

Luna actually displayed hers in the kitchen, only she pretended she received it for her cooking skills. Ron’s wasn’t on display and anyway he usually claimed his was for eating Luna's cooking.

After about ten minutes, the whispered conversation ceased and Harry retrieved his Extendible Ear.

A little later Harry had crept upstairs to check on them and put out the lamps.

Now the house was completely silent. Harry returned to the living room and silently tidied away all the toys. He sat for a few minutes but soon realised he was far more comfortable sitting at the foot of the stairs in the dark. He could hear if the children were stirring better from there. He also felt closer to them there.

As he sat there, Harry became aware of something moving outside.

At first he assumed it was a cat, but as he listened he became convinced that he could imagine someone slowly but surely making their way along the path, trying not to be heard.

From his step, Harry watched the small circular glass bead. The two inch amber coloured sphere that was secured into the face of the door was actually only a decorative feature, but it had the advantage of acting like a door viewer.

As it was almost pitch dark outside, and the path was shaded by bushes on both sides, Harry knew that it would be unlikely that he would see anyone.

Harry got to his feet very slowly and pointed his wand at the closed door, steadying himself with his free hand against the newel post.

Any moment now, if anyone really was there, they’d be almost on the deep outside porch step by now.

At the sound of a foot on the step, Harry vanished the door and an instant later shone a strong beam of light from his wand tip.

The figure froze in total surprise, as indeed did Harry.

She stood there for only a moment, clutching a small white envelope. Then she Disapparated away with a loud Crack!

The white envelope fell to the floor.

Stunned, Harry stepped outside and stooped down to pick up the envelope.

The envelope suddenly burst into flames and then there was another Crack!

“Ow!” he cried, dropping the ashes and blowing his fingers. She must have come back to destroy the envelope, Harry dimly registered.

Just then he registered the first sounds of baby Ann beginning to cry. He ran back upstairs leaving the front door missing.

*

Harry hurried back down just in time to meet Ron. Luna stood behind him looking quite exasperated, but it seemed that a missing front door was the least of her concerns right then.

“Harrry,” slurred Ron, swaying slightly. “I can’t seem to open the door, mate. In fact, I can’t even see the thing!”

Luna tutted and pushed Ron inside.

“Er, Luna, I can explain about the front door.”

“Of course you can, Harry. I’d love to hear it only right now I’d prefer you to go and fish Neville out of the garden pond.”

“Right!” he said, hearing Ginny’s whispered remonstrations and Neville’s splashing.

*

It took Harry a few minutes to get Neville indoors and safely up into the guest bedroom. By the time he’d come downstairs again Luna and Ginny were enjoying hot drinks.

He quickly conjured a replacement door and joined them.

Ron was lying unconscious on the living room floor. He strongly suspected that either Luna or Ginny had helped him get to sleep.

“I’m really sorry about the front door, Luna. I’ve put a temporary one on for now but I’ll do it properly in the morning.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. How were the children?”

“Fine. Went off to bed with no complaints. Even Ann slept most of the time.”

“Oh, good. You okay, Harry?”

“Er, yes. I just had a bit of a shock, actually. You see, I thought I heard someone creeping around outside. That’s why I vanished the door, so I could surprise them.”

“So, was there anyone there?” asked Ginny.

“Yes. It was Hermione.”

“No!” said Ginny, lowering her mug to the work surface.

“She had this white envelope. I think she was going to deliver it, but she just dropped it and Disapparated away. It burst into flames when I picked it up.”

“Oh, well I do hope it wasn’t anything too important,” Luna said casually. “Shame she called when we were out.”

“How did she look?” asked Ginny.

Harry couldn’t answer, although her features were etched into his mind.

“Why would Hermione be delivering something to you, Luna?” asked Ginny, not waiting for Harry to reply.

“It could have been something for Ron, or the children,” she replied absently.

“When was the last time you saw her, anyway?” asked Harry. “It’s been ages since I've seen her.”

Thursday

Harry started as the living room clock chimed five o'clock. He realised thickly that he'd been sitting in the same armchair all night, ever since he had returned from Ron and Luna's house.

Luna had asked him to stay over like Ginny and Neville, but he had to refuse. The sight of Hermione frozen in his wandlight just wouldn't leave him.

Harry snorted to himself. At least she had brought a little variety to his sleepless night. Usually, he'd have been brooding over his other troubles.

He moved stiffly, intending to get up and wash himself.

Feeling his muscles ache in protest, he relaxed back a moment. There wasn't any need to hurry, after all.

He looked around the spartan room.

The room was quite bare apart from the chair he was sitting in, the clock above the fireplace and a small table at his side upon which stood an open bottle of Firewhiskey and a nearly full tumbler.

He picked the glass up and considered it a moment before carefully pouring the entire contents back into the bottle.

Harry had no idea where this habit came from.

Sometimes the thought of relaxing in that chair and taking a long earned drink was all that was needed to motivate him. Well, it seemed that was all he had, anyway. Of course, by the time that moment arrived he rarely actually even sipped the drink.

He almost had last night, though. Almost.

Seeing Hermione again after so long had certainly been a shock. He'd brought the glass to his lips several times before placing the tumbler back on the table untouched.

He had imagined meeting her again in so many ways.

Most popular was accidentally bumping into her while they were both out somewhere. Sometimes he even imagined he'd glimpsed her amongst the crowds straining to see the Aurors making an arrest. Once he'd dreamt cornering a desperate Death Eater who had taken her hostage, only the scene changed so she held him hostage.

The fire flared up burning bright green.

"Potter?" shouted the head in the flames.

"What do you want?"

"Are you sober?" said the caller, eyeing the bottle next to Harry.

Harry picked up the tumbler and hurled it into the fire. The head vanished with a pop a split second before the impact of the smashing glass.

The head was distorted with anger when it reappeared a moment later.

"Potter, you'll be on report for this!"

"I'll throw whatever I like at whatever I like in my own flat and on my own time, Browne."

"This is an emergency. There's trouble over here in Diagon Alley. Get over here now!"

"I'm not on duty until nine. Isn't Peterson on tonight? Trump too?"

"Trump is dead, Potter. Peterson is missing."

Harry shot to his feet at once.

He Apparated directly into the Leaky Cauldron to see Browne's wide backside sticking out of one of the fires.

He was about to give it a good kick to announce his arrival when Tom the Innkeeper said, "Good morning, Mr Potter. Welcome back."

"Hi, Tom," said Harry with a tired smile.

Browne extricated himself from the fireplace and stood up.

"May I get you gentlemen drinks?" Tom asked pleasantly.

"Coffee would be great, Tom. Thanks," said Harry.

"No time, Potter. Come over here while I explain the situation to you."

Harry shrugged and followed Browne into one of the parlours he had requisitioned. Four Aurors were standing around the table looking down at a moving street map.

"What's going on?" asked Harry, yawning widely. "Did you say Trump was dead?"

"Well, we're not too sure just yet. Two witnesses saw him hit with a green flash. I assume he's dead."

"Where?"

"We think Peterson and Trump interrupted a robbery. They cornered them and appeared to make an arrest. We found three wands at the scene, but we haven't had time to identify the owners yet."

Browne placed the three wands down on the edge of the table.

Harry looked down at the map and was surprised to see what they were looking at.

"It happened in Muggle London?"

"Yes. They were after the jewellery in this shop here. They made their escape along the rear access road. That's where someone got it; we think it was Trump but the Muggles have the body. We think Peterson continued to follow them. There was a commotion in the night-club here," said the pointing Auror. "They got up into the staff accommodation above the club and that's where they are held up."

"Held up? I don't understand. Why not just Disapparate away?"

"The outfit consisted of armed Muggles. We think one wizard was helping them. We assume he got away clean."

"Strange he would drop his wand, though,” said Harry, eyeing the wands. “Hang on, does that still leave more hostages?"

"That's right. We guess there might be as many as ten hostages. The problem is we can't afford to leave this to the Muggle Police. We need to interrogate them and find this rogue wizard and then modify everyone's memories."

"Are the Muggle Police aware of the situation?"

"They have the whole area under siege."

"Okay. So why am I here?"

"You are the only Auror I have who remotely knows anything about Muggles. You also happen to be the best shot we've got and you don't often lose it in stressful situations."

"And if anyone's got to get hurt, I'm the one you'll be least upset about if I get injured?"

"Actually, Potter, there is a very real chance you will be injured. Peterson and Trump were no fools, but they got the better of them."

"Okay, so what's the plan?"

"Go in and stun everyone. When you give the signal, we'll modify the memories of all the Police as well. We'll also come in and remove any bodies."

"If it really is a siege, won't there be media there too?"

"Yes, and marksmen, so stay away from the windows."

"Why would a wizard get mixed up with armed robbers?"

"Potter, I want this operation over before dawn today. Get a move on, will you?"

Tom appeared and offered Harry a steaming mug of black coffee on a silver tray.

"Thanks, Tom," he said gratefully.

*

Harry Apparated silently onto the rear fire escape and opened the third floor door. Before entering he looked around again. The Police observer overlooking the external metal staircase was still in the sound sleep Harry had just put him in.

He would wake with a mug of cold half-drunk coffee beside him.

Harry found himself standing at the end of a small corridor. He walked along to the other side of the building, passing stores and plant rooms until he reached a small lobby. The staircase below led down to the accommodation where they assumed the hostages were being held.

Harry crouched down and pushed the door open.

He could here a faint shuffling. Someone was pacing the staircase lobby below, presumably watching for signs of Police activity.

Then he heard a distant telephone ringing from somewhere below.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Harry quickly descended the stairs and stunned the figure who was peering through a gap in the door.

Harry took his weight and pulled him away from the door before conjuring ropes to tie him securely to the open balustrade.

Harry tapped the automatic handgun he had tucked into his belt, transforming it into an identical looking but quite useless replica. The only real danger it presented now was as a club.

He turned out the staircase lights and cautiously pushed open the door.

Harry groaned inwardly. The wizard plan of the building at this level had been wrong. Instead of entering along a small corridor and heading towards the open living area past the bedsits, the staircase he was in actually went straight into the living room.

He closed the door again and Disapparated to the other end of the building.

From within the cleaner's cupboard, he could now clearly hear a one sided telephone conversation. It was clear that the Police negotiators were trying to talk the hostage takers into giving themselves up.

Harry pushed the door open slightly.

A figure dressed in black stood with his back to him shouting obscenities into the telephone before slamming the receiver down. A moment later, Harry lightly touched his head with his wand, only this time Harry didn't bother to catch him.

Harry marched out into the open living area where a group of hostages where huddled against the rear wall. Over them stood two more figures.

The one closest to Harry levelled his handgun at him while the other pulled a young woman to her feet by her hair, his knife glinting in the spot lighting.

Harry fired first at the furthest one, making him release the woman. This gave the other time to get one round off before he too fell to Harry's stunner.

He stopped at the entrance to the open area and surveyed the scene.

Six Aurors Apparated with loud cracks all around the room and began firing stunning spells at everyone.

Feeling dazed, Harry absently wiped his face and wondered if Tom did house calls. He thought he could do with another cup of coffee right then.

He looked down at his crimson red hand before falling backwards onto the hard floor.

The last thing he remembered was the vague outline of someone stepping over him.

Friday (Day One)

Harry woke slowly with his head pounding. He reached out and groped around until he found his glasses. He put them on and discovered his head was heavily bandaged.

Opening his eyes, he realised he was probably in hospital. His narrow bed was in a private room. The ceiling lights were on but turned down low. This usually meant it was night or early morning.

Wondering how long he had been there, Harry turned his aching head to look at the other side of the room.

Harry snorted at the sight before him.

Ron was fast asleep with Luna snuggled up next to him under one arm and Leon sitting on his lap. Flora was somehow lying in Luna's arms as well. Luna and the two children were all wearing dressing gowns and were fast asleep as well.

This wasn't the first time they had kept vigil over his bedside.

Flora stirred and opened her eyes.

Smiling, she let herself down and came over to Harry. He pulled her up and she climbed onto the bed before hugging him. He realised he had a few more aches and pains too.

"Mummy said we weren't to disturb you until you woke up."

"We'll, I'm awake now," he said with a croaky voice.

"Does your head hurt?"

"A bit. I'm not sure what happened, actually."

"Daddy said you were being a bit of an idiot again."

Harry laughed, stopping only when the pain became too bad.

"Flora, what day is it?"

"It's my birthday, and I want my present," she replied with a grin.

"Really?" said Harry in mock surprise. "I've really been asleep for all those months?"

Flora laughed and nodded.

"Oh, dear, that means I missed Christmas too. Did I get anything nice?"

"No. We shared your presents amongst ourselves. I drank all your Firewhiskey!"

Flora squealed with laughter as Harry tried to tickle her.

Harry looked over to see Ron smiling at them both. Luna and Leon were beginning to stir too.

"Friday, Harry," said Ron a little sadly. "It's Friday."

*

Harry was seen by a harassed looking Healer before finally discharging himself around mid-morning.

Ron had stayed with him but Luna and the children had gone home once Harry had promised he was fine and would try to join them for lunch.

"I'm surprised you didn't make them put me out cold until after the weekend," said Harry.

"I was sorely tempted, I can assure you," Ron replied. "Luna seemed to think that you'd miss all your moaping around and being miserable time, though."

"Were there any other casualties?"

"No, none at all. All of the hostages were interviewed and then had their memories modified."

"Do we know who the wizard was?"

"No, but I understand the Aurors do have a vague description now."

"Well, at least that's something. Okay, so who are we looking for?"

"Harry, no-one is looking for anyone this weekend. All the Aurors and Enforcement Wizards are either on leave for the weekend or have been assigned to cover the events."

"Browne must have left someone to investigate! Even he isn't stupid enough to think that dark wizards are going to behave just because it's the weekend everyone celebrates the fall of Voldemort."

“Your wizard hasn’t got his wand, has he?”

“That’s no assurance he won’t do something worse. Besides, there are plenty of places to pick up a dodgy wand.”

Harry allowed a groan to escape his lips.

“You should stay in hospital, you know that?” said Ron.

“I can’t understand why I hurt so much everywhere. The bullet only grazed my head, after all.”

“Yeah, well it seems you had a bit of an accident when they carried you down the stairs.”

“Who dropped me?”

“It was an accident, Harry. Browne still did his pieces, though.”

Harry frowned for a moment, rubbing his tender ribs.

"Harry, come on. Do you want to come home or go straight to the Burrow?"

Harry stopped.

"Burrow," Harry whispered, looking down.

"Are you sure? Remember, you promised those kids you'll put in an appearance for lunch."

"They'll understand."

Ron sighed and placed a hand on his shoulder. He knew there was little point in arguing.

"At least it will be daylight," said Ron gently. "I hate being at the graveside in the dark. Give me a few minutes, will you? I'll go and clear out any reporters that are waiting. You never know, maybe they'll have given up early this year."

"Does anyone else know I was in hospital overnight?"

"I'm afraid it was reported. Here, take my copy of the Daily Prophet. I'll see you in a bit, Harry."

Ron Disapparated and Harry carefully sat down in the otherwise empty visitor waiting area, allowing himself to wince properly now Ron had gone.

He opened the paper, and wasn't entirely surprised by the Page Two headline, "Potter admitted to St Mungos again."

"Harry Potter was yesterday admitted to St Mungos, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. The hospital has refused to comment on the condition of Mr Potter in line with Ministry guidelines while treating active Aurors. However, senior Ministry sources have confirmed that Potter's injuries are suspected to be self-induced.

"Potter, once the self styled Chosen One, has often been observed to have difficulty coping at this time of year while the Wizarding community celebrates the fall of You-Know-Who.

"Some attribute Potter's troubled existence to the pressure of being labelled The Boy Who Lived from such a young age.

"However, a call for compassion was made by fellow former Hogwarts student Draco Malfoy yesterday."

"I would ask everyone to remember that Potter is no longer that attention seeking boy. He is to be pitied. No-one could have lived up to the expectations placed upon him from such a young age. The return of You-Know-Who must have terrified him to such an extent that, even with him defeated, left Potter in the deranged state he's in now.

"Of course, I remain concerned that his Auror status has been retained by such an unstable individual, but I recognise that the loss of this last and only source of pride would be perhaps a fatal blow to Potter."

"Draco Malfoy is, of course, the much anticipated main speaker at Sunday’s Commemorative Charity Dinner to be held at Hogwarts on the anniversary of You-Know-Who's fall."

Harry threw the paper into a nearby bin and Disapparated away.

*

Harry Apparated directly into the small area of fenced off grass. He looked around, marvelling at how well tended the gravesite was. There were three small graves in the plot, each with a simple white marble marker.

Just on the other side of the low white fence, the grass grew long and wild. A narrow overgrown path wound its way from the small gate up though to the Burrow.

He was quite alone.

Harry knelt by the first and oldest grave and wiped his hand fondly over the small mound of grass.

"Hello, Kreacher," he said softly, reaching over to pull an overlong blade of grass out.

*

Ron waited until he heard Harry’s voice before turning and making his way back towards the Burrow. He had found only three reporters before Harry had arrived, all of whom he had been required to release on condition that they did not return.

Strictly speaking, he was not allowed to impose any additional conditions on their release. They each carried authorisations signed personally by the Minister of Magic, no doubt obtained for a suitable donation to his favourite charity.

Ron looked back before he entered the house. He couldn't see Harry now, but he knew how he would be when he finally came out of there.

It was the same every year. Every year he seemed to torture himself.

*

"I'm so sorry, Dobby," said Harry, tears now streaming down his face. "I should have got there in time to save you. It was all my fault."

There was a snap of a twig being trodden on.

Harry looked around, unseeing but raising his wand defensively.

"Who’s there?" Harry demanded.

A figure was standing just on the other side of the fence.

Harry wiped his eyes and repositioned his glasses.

"Hermione?" he croaked.

She didn't speak. Hermione stepped over the low fence and went straight up to him.

Harry fell forward, dropping his wand and wrapping his arms around her middle.

"Why do you keep doing this to yourself, Harry?" she asked gently, as he sobbed uncontrollably into her robes.

"How would you know what I keep doing to myself?"

"I've watched you. I couldn't let you be here alone, especially on this day."

"I've never seen you here."

"I don't need an invisibility cloak to be invisible, Harry."

Harry snorted, remembering the last time someone had told him that.

"I want you to come with me for a few minutes, Harry."

"Why?"

"We need to talk."

Harry wiped his face angrily.

"Talk? You weren't so keen to talk before, were you?"

"Please, Harry. I'd like to speak to you, but if you want to shout at me I'd rather it wasn't here. Please come with me?"

Harry looked down at the third gravestone before the ground gave way and he was plunged into water. For a long moment Harry fought to get to the surface and air, but he was being swept along in a strong current.

An instant later, Harry found himself lying on a thick rug in front of a fire.

Breathing heavily, he looked down and was amazed to find that he was completely dry.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded.

"It's a new kind of transportation I've been working on," said Hermione, removing her travelling cloak. "It's a little like using a Portkey only without all the dramatics."

"Sure, drowning is much preferable to flying any day," he commented sarcastically.

"It isn't perfected yet," she admitted. "I've been concentrating on getting the water temperature to a comfortable level. You get used to the sensation of being under water after a while."

Hermione pointed her wand at the fireplace and shot two white flames into the fire in quick succession.

"I've just sent word that you're okay."

"Thanks. Am I?" he asked coldly.

"Okay? Well, perhaps it would have been more accurate to say that you're safe," said Hermione, handing him back his wand.

Crookshanks padded up to him and Harry stroked him, noting he had a little more grey amongst the ginger of his fur.

"So what do you want, Hermione?"

"Oh, right now I'd like a cup of tea."

*

They sat opposite each other at the kitchen table drinking their tea while Crookshanks dozed in front of the open fire.

Eventually, Harry broke the silence.

"Why did you do it, Hermione?"

Hermione stared into her cup and shook her head.

"I was scared. I was scared of making things worse."

"Worse?" he repeated incredulously.

"Look, Harry," Hermione said firmly. "You have to believe me. It wasn't my fault. It just happened, that's all. One minute she was fine, and then." Hermione trailed off.

Harry took a deep, shaky breath.

"I do believe you, Hermione," he said very quietly. "I've always believed that."

"So, why were you so angry with me?"

Harry looked up with a look of total incredulity on his face.

"Don't you dare ask that!" he spat, feeling the anger rise up in him as keenly as it had all those years ago.

Hermione flushed a little.

"What else was I supposed to do in the circumstances?" she asked, her voice beginning to sound strained.

There would be tears soon, he knew.

"You've no idea? What do you think it was like? I opened my door that morning to find a packing crate outside. I opened the crate and found another box inside that, only I didn't realise what it was. It was just a heavy, white painted timber box with ornate brass handles."

A tear splashed heavily onto the table.

"I struggled to get the box out, not noticing that there was a nice letter that came with it. No, that slipped down the side."

"Harry," pleaded Hermione thickly, her face now distorted and her tears flowing freely.

"It took be quite some time to open all the brass catches. Then I opened it. Only then did I realise it was a casket."

Hermione covered her face with both hands and sobbed unreservedly.

"I know it was wrong, Harry."

Harry waited for her to continue.

"Don't you remember, though? We'd argued only the day before over what you did to those Death Eaters."

"Those poor Death Eaters who tortured and murdered Kreacher?" he asked coldly.

"I don't want to start that again. You know my views. You had no right to execute them and exact your personal revenge."

"I gave them an opportunity to surrender, Hermione. It wasn’t my fault they preferred to fight. In the end they begged me for a release."

"Exactly! I've never seen you so possessed by such hatred and anger. Not since that night when you headed into the forest to face Voldemort. No, it was even worse than then, actually."

"So?"

"Harry, I was terrified of you and what you might do. I'm not saying you wouldn't regret it later, but can you honestly say that you were not so angry you could have hurt me?"

"I was angry, Hermione, but not with you. Well, not for what happened, anyway."

"It just happened, Harry. One moment she was fine, and the next moment she was dead. I tried everything I knew to revive her."

"I honestly didn't think I was capable of feeling any worse than I did at that point,” continued Harry. “That was before your little gift, of course. I opened the casket, pulled off the silk shroud, and there she was. Just lying there.

"I knew she wasn't as fit as she was. I tried to use another owl to deliver your letter, but she insisted. She always insisted on taking your letters."

Hermione sniffed.

"That was when I noticed the letter. I mean, I know you can be a little insensitive sometimes, Hermione, but you reached new heights with that letter."

"Oh, Harry."

"Dear Harry,” he pretended to read aloud. “Got your message, only Hedwig dropped dead as soon as she got here. Thought you'd like her back. From, Hermione."

"That is not what I wrote!" Hermione shouted angrily.

"A letter, Hermione. You wrote me a letter rather than coming to face me!"

"Well-"

"Hermione, did you really have no idea just how much Hedwig meant to me? I knew she wasn’t as strong as before she recovered from that illness. I also knew that one of those days she would no longer be around, no matter how much I wanted her to be there.

"What I didn't expect was for my so-called best friend not to want to share my grief."

Hermione wiped her eyes and looked down.

"I did grieve for her, Harry."

"Not with me, you didn't!"

Harry let Hermione cry for only barely a minute before relenting and bringing her a fresh towel.

“Alright,” he said gently. “That’s enough. Somehow I think Hedwig wouldn’t want me to bear a grudge, especially against you.”

Hermione took the towel and dried her face.

*

"Hermione, is place in England?"

"Why do you ask, Harry?"

"Um, the sand dunes outside don't look that familiar."

"Oh. Is stew okay for dinner?"

"What kind of stew?"

"It might be best not to ask, Harry."

Harry snorted and turned away from the window.

Hermione was poised with her wand held menacingly over a group of nervous looking vegetables lying on the kitchen table.

She jabbed her wand and a carrot shot across the table and then burst into flames.

Harry laughed despite himself.

"Shut up, Harry. You know I hate cooking."

"I remember," he said, pulling his wand out. "I'll prepare dinner, shall I?"

"Thanks. I'll do Crookshanks' meal."

Harry watched curiously as she opened a cupboard brimmed full of tinned cat foot.

"He won't eat anything else and there's not a lot of wildlife to catch that won't try to make a meal out of him."

Harry frowned slightly and took another curious glance out of the window before he began to prepare the vegetables.

*

Harry stroked Crookshanks as he watched him lick the gravy from Harry's plate, the bowl of cat food left untouched in the corner of the room. Outside, the sand dunes were now turning a deep red colour as the sun began to set.

Crookshanks had just finished his second helping and Hermione was just finishing her third. The cat looked up hopefully but Hermione hadn't left much for him to lick up.

"Hermione, when was the last time you ate properly?"

"Hm?" she asked, wiping her face. "Oh, I don't know. I never seem to get the time to cook."

"It didn't take me long, did it? You already had that chicken prepared."

"Chicken?"

"Er, yes. It was in your cold pantry."

"Oh, that. Um, yes, Harry," she said hesitantly. "It did taste like chicken."

Harry suppressed a shudder.

"So," he said, getting up and collecting the plates. "Where exactly are we?"

"This house is situated on the Greenwich Meridian, in the middle of an African Desert. Technically, this is one of the unpopulated regions of Algeria."

"Okay. Why are you living in the middle of a desert, Hermione?"

"It's warm and quiet. I originally planned to set up a laboratory that I could use occasionally. I needed somewhere remote for my experiments."

"Warm? Why do you need a fire going then?"

"Oh, I charmed the grounds so I had temperate weather year round. I don't like it when it’s too hot."

Harry shook his head in bemusement and began to wash up the dishes.

"Anyway," Hermione continued as she carried an overfull Crookshanks over to his basket by the fire, "I spent more and more time out here. I eventually found it easier to stay here."

"Couldn't you find anywhere closer?"

"I didn't feel comfortable. Every time I went back I was terrified of bumping into you."

"Hermione, that's ridiculous."

"Yes, but there you are."

Harry snorted.

"You know? I kept wondering if I'd bump into you as well. Once or twice I thought I'd seen you in a crowd."

"I don't like crowds much these days, Harry."

Harry sat down gingerly at the table again and Hermione jumped up almost at once. She walked around to his side and ran her wand up and down as if considering what to do.

"Tell me where it still hurts," she asked. "Here?"

"Ow!"

Hermione waved her wand and the pain vanished before he had a chance to complain. She proceeded this way until she got to his head wound.

“You’re much better at this than the Healer I had.”

"I'm afraid I can't do much for your head, Harry."

"Well, it always did get me into trouble, didn't it?"

Hermione snorted and tapped his bandages. They fell away at once and she considered his wound carefully before pointing her wand.

Harry felt a pleasant cool sensation before Hermione redressed his head wound.

"I'll have another go tomorrow," she advised.

*

Late that evening, Harry found himself sitting on a hard timber chair with Crookshanks on his lap. Hermione sat on her only other chair, staring into the fire.

"Have you been in contact with Luna and Ron long, Hermione?"

"No, not at all. In fact, I only recently found out where they live now."

"How come?"

"Well, I kind of lost touch with Luna and Ginny. You know I had an argument with Ginny?"

"I didn't ask about any details."

"No," she agreed absently. "Anyway, a few of weeks ago I received a message from Luna. Somehow she managed to put a letter in with one of my weekly grocery supply deliveries."

"What did she want?"

"She asked if I would get in touch with her, only it took me a while to get around to calling on her. I was hoping to see her yesterday evening, obviously, to find out what she wanted. I realised I had arrived at rather a late hour, so I decided to leave a note."

"How long has it been since you spoke with Ron, then?"

"Oh, only a few months. He made me promise to keep in touch and I made him promise not to tell anyone where I was. I sometimes send notes for him to his office and we usually meet for lunch when I’m in England."

"Why stay so distant, though?" asked Harry. "What about Leon and Flora?"

"What about them? I send them book tokens for birthdays and Christmas."

"Hermione, that's hardly the point. You know? Just lately the only thing I can honestly say I unfailingly look forward to, is seeing those kids."

"Yes, Ron has said. I'm sure I would enjoy their company as well, but when you're not talking to Ginny or Luna, social visits tend to be a little more complicated."

Harry sighed deeply.

"Why did you fall out with them?"

"I'd rather not say, Harry," she said quietly. "Not yet, anyway."

"Somehow, I doubt if it was a good enough reason to cut yourself off and live all the way out here."

Hermione didn't answer.

Saturday (Day Two)

Harry lay on his conjured cot and watched as the dawn began. He had no idea what time it was in England.

As he lay there, he contemplated how Hermione had managed to completely upset his established routine for the anniversary of Voldemort's defeat. He usually gave Ron the slip during the afternoon to go off in search of trouble.

For the last two years he had got drunk and proceeded to break into the offices of the Daily Prophet. On both occasions Ron had retrieved him the next morning from the Ministry of Magic holding cells.

Harry frowned, wondering if Ron had spent the night attempting to track him down.

Somehow, not starting the second day without either a severe hangover nor an unnecessarily loud reprimand from Ron seemed wrong.

Hermione opened her bedroom door and padded over to the kitchen sink to fill the kettle.

Harry smiled and said, "Morning, Hermione."

Hermione froze with her back to him.

Harry's smile turned into a grin as he reached for his wand and aimed carefully. Hermione caught the towel robe that had appeared and dropped over her bare shoulders. She quickly stuffed her arms in the sleeves and tied the rope belt very tightly before turning.

"Morning, Harry," she said lightly, her bright red blush extending from her face right down to the calves Harry could see under the table.

Hermione coughed lightly and said, "It's easy to forget when you don't have company often."

"Sorry, Hermione. I didn't have my glasses on," lied Harry, relaxing back onto the cot.

*

"Do you want me to send you back?" asked Hermione over breakfast. “I sent Ron another message last night so he knew where you were.”

"Thanks. Well, traditionally Ron bails me out in time to get to the Burrow for dinner today."

"Will they all be there today?"

"Um, no. The main family get-together is still tomorrow. They have today's do just to try and keep me out of trouble. I usually duck out after the kids go to bed."

"Harry, I know what upset you about yesterday," Hermione said tentatively, "but I still don't know what it is about today. Ron has always gone on about The Three Days."

Harry smiled sadly and swirled his tea around.

"Poor, Ron. He's always running around getting me out of trouble. I always feel terrible afterwards."

"But why, Harry?"

"It's stupid, really. Despite everything you may have read in the Daily Prophet, I only ever drink heavily on three days of the year. Well, three days not counting Christmas day or Ron's birthday. Um, and not counting-"

"Yes, I get the idea," interrupted Hermione. "You get drunk on these three days. Why?"

"I drink to forget, or at least, try to forget. It's always so much worse this time of the year. Everywhere you look there's something to remind me. This may be a time of celebration for everyone else, Hermione, but for me it isn't."

Hermione nodded.

"I know it isn't an answer, but I drink until I'm off my head. Unfortunately, I still remember the pain. As Ron knows all too well by now, the alcohol wipes away any remnants of inhibition or caution and I go looking for trouble.

"That's not as easy as it was, these days. On the second anniversary I managed to crash a Death Eater wake for good old Voldemort. I had a great time until the Aurors turned up. The next year it was much harder to get into trouble as they were all still in Azkaban."

Hermione shook her head in disbelief.

"I wondered where you went to. That was the last time I attended the celebrations, actually. It was awful, being abandoned by both you and Ron."

"Well, I'm sorry I abandoned you, Hermione. I wish Ron had stayed with you, though."

"He was torn between chasing after you and chasing after Luna, I recall."

"Luna won, that year anyway."

"Harry, you still haven't said why today is so bad for you."

"Yesterday was the seventh anniversary of Kreacher's murder. We’d also lost Dobby the year before and then I lost Hedwig four years ago. They all died on the same day, only in different years," he added quietly, but with no hint of bitterness in his voice.

“Today isn’t so much about individuals I’ve lost. It’s,” Harry began before his throat caught.

"Hermione, what time is it now? In England, I mean."

"Um, it's a little after eight o'clock, Harry."

"In the morning?"

"Yes, of course in the morning."

"Well, get yourself ready and take us back, will you? If you really want to know, you should come with me. We can call in at the Burrow later."

"I'm not sure I want to, Harry. I may not be that welcome."

"Hey, don't you want to know what Luna wants to speak to you about?"

Hermione bit her lip doubtfully.

*

Once the unpleasant sensation of drowning subsided, Harry realised that they were standing at the edge of Hogsmeade Village.

Crookshanks jumped down from Hermione's arms and walked ahead of them as they headed along the path towards the school.

"This way, Hermione," said Harry.

"But, that way goes into the Forbidden Forest. I thought we were going up to the school."

"I'm going this way," he said firmly, "but I'll walk you up to the school gates if you don't want to come with me."

Hermione looked at him for a long moment before nodding and stepping towards the almost hidden track.

Harry turned and led the way.

"Wands out, I suggest," he said quietly. "We're okay to talk quietly for a bit."

They walked on in silence for a while before Harry stopped to get his bearings. Then he led them through some low ferns until they arrived at a wide, un-travelled corridor that wound its way through the trees.

"I don't understand, Harry," Hermione said at last, now walking alongside him.

"The answer is a little further into the forest," he replied, his voice already sounding strained with emotion.

Crookshanks darted back and forth but as they went deeper into the forest, he stayed closer and closer.

*

They arrived at a wide clearing. Crookshanks was now walking between Harry and Hermione but stopped before entering the clearing and hissed.

"Here," Harry said gently. "We need to leave our wands here," he said, walking over to a fallen tree trunk that had been carved to it had a perfectly flat top surface.

"Crookshanks, you can stay here if you want. We'll stay in sight, now," advised Harry.

Crookshanks jumped lightly up onto the sun warmed trunk and sat down. Hermione placed her wand next to Harry's.

Harry led Hermione across the middle of the clearing.

They were almost over the other side when Hermione gasped.

"Gosh! I didn't see it before!"

"Yes, the trees tend to camouflage it."

Harry sank to his knees while Hermione stood next to him, studying the ornate structure intently.

"Is it alright if I take a closer look, Harry?"

She looked down to see him nod, and then walked forward.

Hermione had never seen anything quite like it. Standing at over twelve feet tall and forming a semicircle that followed the edge of the clearing was a black marble monolith. The entire face was covered with vines.

She reached out and was about to pull away from of the weeds, when she hesitated. Unsure herself why she did so, Hermione reached through and wiped the face of the marble, being careful not to disturb the growing plants.

There was fine lettering cut into the face of the marble.

As she rubbed, the remains of gold leaf could be seen, but it was almost impossible to read the obscured writing.

Hermione turned, intending to ask Harry if she could use her wand to clear away the vegetation.

Hermione gasped and found herself having to steady herself against the monolith.

The entire clearing was filled with Centaurs, all lined up and holding an arrow ready to fire in their bow.

Harry stayed kneeling with his back towards them.

Crookshanks darted through their legs and ran up into Hermione's arms.

One Centaur stepped forward and stood next to Harry.

"Welcome," he said in a slow, deep voice.

Hermione smiled nervously and found she was trembling with fear, despite the word of welcome she'd been given.

"We are about to begin a short service of remembrance. If you would like to stay, human, you may."

Hermione nodded and walked back to Harry's side, noticing he seemed oblivious to the presence of her or the Centaurs. They lowered their bows.

The Centaur who had spoken rejoined the ranks while a gap was created on the far side.

Hermione held Crookshanks firmly as she watched two Centaurs guiding a third out to face them all.

Even with the two young Centaurs helping, Hermione thought the third must fall before he reached his stopping point. His left hand was missing and he had deep wound scars all over his chest and flanks. The Centaur limped badly, and Hermione could see that he wore a false foot on one front leg.

Eventually they stopped and it was a moment before the two guides left his side.

Hermione stood stunned as startlingly two bright blue eyes looked down at her. She only let go the breath she was holding when he looked down at Harry.

Firenze looked up at the sky, as did all the other Centaurs.

Hermione found herself looking up at the grey clouds and faint blue sky. Harry alone did not look up.

"Brothers," thundered Firenze, looked down again. "Tomorrow the wizarding world celebrates the fall of the Dark Lord. He fell, as we predicted so long ago, having wrought a terrible reign of terror that affected both humans and Centaurs."

He paused.

"Today, we remember an event that occurred one day before the Dark Lord's fall. This was the very hour when, ten years ago, we set ourselves against the Heavens!"

Hermione frowned, not understanding.

"None of us, not even the wisest and most experienced of us, had foreseen the consequences of such a momentous decision. Many predicted nothing but misfortune and death would follow such a course."

Hermione looked down as Harry's head bowed.

"In the hours that followed, our forest saw some of the worst fighting in its long history. The battle in the forest raged well into the next day. Well over two-thirds of our number were lost, but we prevailed.

"Our victory was just one battle, one of many that were fought. Some were won and some were lost. Casualties for all that fought Voldemort were high, but in the end he was defeated."

Firenze looked down at Harry.

"In previous years, brothers, we have gathered to pay our respects to our fallen comrades and acknowledge the sacrifices made by others, including the humans, that helped to ensure the final victory. A victory that defied the planets and the predictions made over ages past."

Firenze's expression seemed to harden as he continued.

"Regrettably, however, as time goes on I begin to question whether the planets weren't right all along."

Hermione looked around as angry murmuring came from the Centaurs behind them.

"If truth was a casualty of the war, Voldemort cannot truly be said to have been defeated," continued Firenze.

Harry looked up slowly and Hermione was shocked to see anger etched into his features.

"Well, human?" said Firenze coldly. "I grow tired of waiting."

Hermione found herself shaking her head in confusion.

Harry looked down again, as if considering something. Then he wavered slightly and Firenze stamped his rear feet impatiently.

"Harry Potter!" roared Firenze angrily. "When will this end? Need I remind you of the number of Centaurs that died while escorting you through this forest?"

Harry shook his head, but did not speak.

"We did not fight for you. You persuaded us to fight, didn't you? We remember the reasons you gave us. We have never complained about our losses nor of the Ministry's failure to keep their promises. We are above such petty things, human!"

Firenze reared up, his foreleg just missing Harry's head but making his hair blow about.

"Have you really forgotten the very thing you reminded us of that night?"

Harry shook his head.

"Enough is enough, human. Ten years is long enough. The laws of the Herd will not be denied."

"What do you mean, Firenze?" Hermione found herself asking.

Firenze looked at her, and appeared to calm.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I should have explained. You, female, are here as our guest. You will enjoy our protection until the moment you step outside our forest. There is nothing for you to fear here."

"Um. Thank you," said Hermione. "I'm afraid I still don't understand, though."

Firenze smiled at her and said, "Come forward. In fact, why don't all our young colts come forward?"

Hermione was a little reluctant to leave Harry's side but felt drawn to Firenze. As she stepped forward, several young Centaurs came forward to join her, all looking interested in hearing.

Firenze reached up and fondly rubbed a green leaf.

"We know that the vegetation looks a little out of place to a human eye," he said with a smile, "but to us it represents the harmony of the forest. The forest is alive and yet remembers the lives that have gone.

"Our memorial was erected to honour those Centaurs who fell in the fighting. Not all of them died under the forest canopy, so it was important to bring them back, as it were."

Hermione nodded, noticing that several of the young colts were touching the memorial as they listened.

"Touch one of the leaves," directed Firenze.

Hermione reached out and gently held a green leaf between thumb and forefinger. The vegetation covering the memorial appeared to shimmer slightly.

She rubbed her thumb and forefinger together, and instantly the foliage became transparent, revealing the full monument.

Hermione gasped and Firenze smiled.

"Now," he said, "can you read the inscriptions?"

"Um," said Hermione. "I'm afraid I don't recognise the language."

"There is no reason why you should," Firenze said kindly. "The panels on the left and right hand side record the names of our fallen Centaur brothers who died in battle or from wounds sustained the battle. The lower panel commemorates the non-combatants that were killed by Voldemort's Death Eaters when they entered our forest and attacked. This was in punishment for our Elders not immediately taking up arms against the Ministry of Magic."

"Gosh. I didn't know you lost so many."

"The Ministry never even enquired about our losses."

"That's unforgivable," Hermione said angrily. "Would you object if I reported these names and the circumstances of their deaths?"

"We do not need the pity of humans," Firenze said imperiously.

"That's not what I meant," Hermione said at once. "We humans have a duty to remember the price you paid in helping us defeat Voldemort. That has nothing to do with pity for you. I'd say it was more about learning about the debt we owe you and respecting your wishes.”

Firenze did not seem to be particularly impressed with these words.

"Is Harry the only wizard to come here and pay his respects?" she asked.

"To be honest, we do not make humans particularly welcome in our forest."

"That's understandable, but it does make me feel honoured."

Firenze bowed, acknowledging her respectful sentiments.

"May I ask about the upper panel?" asked Hermione, looking up at the monument again. In a small panel at the top, there was larger lettering between two outlines of Centaurs in battle, each charging and firing arrows.

"That panel simply marks the celestial calendar dates of the engagements. The symbols represent the planets."

Hermione nodded before letting go of the leaf and looking up at Firenze again.

"What did you mean by, the laws of the Herd will not be denied?" she asked.

*

The Centaurs had all gone before Harry got to his feet and wiped his face with shaking hands.

Hermione was burning to demand answers from Harry but had managed to hold herself back before then.

“I broke my promise, Hermione,” was all he said before turning and walking over to their wands.

“What promise, Harry? What did you tell them to make them fight?”

Harry either couldn’t or wouldn’t answer.

They Apparated a short way down the country road that lead to the Burrow and Hermione couldn’t decide whether Harry or herself was the most reluctant to get there.

*

“Give it a rest, will you?” pleaded Ron. “I’ve said I was sorry.”

“Ron, we all agreed,” said Ginny. “How could you?”

“I was curious to know what happened.”

“That is no excuse to interrogate your own children like that. Honestly, you put them in an impossible position. You know Harry made them promise not to say anything.”

“Yeah, well,”

Neville held out his hand and gently touched Ginny on her arm. She scowled at her brother once more but then nodded and sat back.

“Where are those two, anyway?” asked Ron.

“Playing down by the orchard,” said Luna, not looking up from her magazine.

*

Harry stopped and looked up.

“What is it, Harry?” asked Hermione.

Harry crossed over to the other side of the track and climbed over the fence without a word. Hermione followed with some difficulty.

“I thought I could hear you two,” said Harry. “What are you doing up there?”

“Climbing trees!” came a voice from above them.

Harry chuckled and said, “So I see! Why don’t you come down and show us up to the Burrow?”

There was a scrambling sound and Hermione was surprised to see two small children climb down from the tree they were under. Harry helped the smallest down to the ground.

“You were a bit high up there, you know?” said Harry.

“It was easier getting up than coming down,” admitted Flora.

“You should have called for help, then.”

Both children looked at each other and Flora said, “We didn’t want to be told off again.”

“Well, from the state of your clothes, I’m not surprised you were told off.”

“We didn’t want to wear our best things,” complained Leon.

“Perhaps you’d better let us clean you up a little,” suggested Harry. “This is Hermione, by the way.”

“Hello,” said Hermione awkwardly. “I was at school with your parents. Um, this is Crookshanks, my cat.”

Harry repaired Leon’s frayed shirt and cleaned him up while Flora let Hermione see to her. Crookshanks managed to keep the children still by allowing them to stroke him while they performed the charms but darted away as soon as they were done.

Soon the children were dragging Harry and Hermione up to the house.

Ron, Luna, Ginny and Neville were sitting on the grass engrossed in quiet conversation. Baby Ann was sleeping contentedly with her cot under the shade of an umbrella.

Mrs Weasley stepped out of the back door and smiled seeing her grandchildren pulling Harry and Hermione up from the orchard. She went over to the kitchen and said, “Arthur! Harry and Hermione are here!”

Arthur appeared at once, saying, “What was that, dear? Did you say, Hermione?”

If Mrs Weasley knew anything of the falling out between Ginny and Hermione, she certainly didn’t show it. Welcoming both Hermione and Harry, she insisted that they both stay and join them.

Hermione sat next to Mrs Weasley and watched on smiling as the children insisted Harry join in their games.

He certainly seemed much happier than she’d seen him so far.

After a few minutes Crookshanks reappeared and Leon decided it would be a good game to chase him. Crookshanks darted off again and Harry and Flora set off in hot pursuit of the surprisingly fast Leon.

When they were out of earshot, the conversation reverted back to Harry.

“So, do we have enough tickets yet?” asked Ron.

“Seamus gave me his pair,” said Neville, “but I think they cost him quite a bit.”

“That leaves us still two short,” said Ginny.

“You can have our tickets, Ginny, dear,” offered Mrs Weasley.

“No, Mum. You have to be there too.”

“Oh, we don’t mind. It’s the same every year, after all.”

“Er, Mum. We were kind of hoping it would be different this year,” Ron reminded her.

Mr Weasley smiled kindly at Hermione and said, “I’m afraid we’ve been conspiring. We were rather hoping to persuade Harry to come along to the Hogwarts celebration dinner tomorrow evening. He never goes usually, of course.”

“Why do you want him to go?”

“It’s the tenth anniversary. With Malfoy speaking, we hoped it would be enough to provoke Harry into responding.”

“He didn’t strike me as particularly ready to respond to anything.”

“What would you know?” spat Ginny.

“Do you know where he was this morning?” replied Hermione angrily.

The baby began crying, having been woken by the raised voices. Ginny got up at once to see to her.

“I’m sorry,” said Hermione.

“Where was Harry?” asked Luna lightly. “I’ve always wondered where he goes.”

“We went to the Forbidden Forest. There was a memorial service for all the Centaurs that fell in the fighting.”

“Really?” said Mr Weasley in surprise. “I had no idea there was a service for them as well. Who was there from the Ministry?”

“No one. Before today, Harry was the only human that attended annually. I felt quite honoured to be invited to stay, but Harry refused to say what they were so angry about.”

“They were angry with him?”

“Yes. All got out of him was that he’d broken a promise.”

“A promise?”

“Yes. I assumed it was made to the Centaurs, but I’m not entirely sure. Firenze seemed to be losing patience over it.”

“How did you come to be with Harry in the Forbidden Forest?” asked Luna.

“Well, I took Harry away yesterday as I told Ron. This morning Harry suggested I come with him.”

“I assume you’ve made things up with him?”

“Well, to be honest things were a little strained yesterday. I suppose I’ve been dreading what he would say to me, but it could have been much worse.”

“Harry forgave you a long time ago, Hermione,” said Luna warmly.

“Did he?” said Ron in surprise, but he was silenced by a sharp look from Luna.

“Um,” said Hermione uncertainly. “I have a couple of tickets you can have, to the Hogwarts do, I mean.”

“Really?” asked Neville.

“Yes, they send me them every year, but I never go. The thing is, I wouldn’t want you to do anything to upset Harry any more than he will be anyway.”

“Hermione, this is the first time in ages we’ve seen any real improvement in him at all. I know he seems cheerful enough the rest of the year, but it’s really just an act,” said Ron. “This time of year is always the worst, of course.”

“You really think he’s improving?”

“He wasn’t under arrest last night, was he?”

“No,” agreed Hermione.

“Look,” said Ron seriously. “I made the worst decision of my life ten years ago. I’ve regretted it every day since and now Malfoy’s out, it’s only going to get worse for Harry.”

“What do you mean?”

“Harry asked me to go along with that rubbish Malfoy came out with. I argued that Harry should just tell the truth, but he wouldn’t.”

“Why did you agree?”

“I could see that Harry was sick of all the media attention. He just wanted the whole thing to go away while he recovered. I think he imagined that once You-Know-Who was gone, he’d have a quiet life.”

“So, the reported version of events wasn’t true?”

“How could they be?”

“Ron, I believed them because you said it was true,” said Hermione sharply.

“What, even the part where Malfoy was supposed to have saved Harry?”

“Well, I assumed he exaggerated his role, obviously. Anyway, you didn’t corroborate that part, did you?”

“No, they were alone with You-Know-Who when that is supposed to have happened.”

“So, what exactly did you witness, Ron?”

Ron shifted uncomfortably but before he could answer Crookshanks darted out of the bushes and leapt up into Hermione’s arms. Leon and Flora were not far behind and collapsed panting on the grass before them.

Harry walked slowly back towards them looking quite lost in thought.

*

Harry remained attentive to the children through until after dinner, but after they had been sent to change for bed he’d become more and more withdrawn.

To Hermione’s relief, Ginny managed to at least hide her antagonism towards her. She suspected that both Luna and Mrs Weasley had been applying pressure in this respect.

A few minutes later, the children returned downstairs to have a warm drink and say their goodnights.

Hermione watched with interest as Harry seemed to come alive while the children tried to drink as slowly as possible in order to stay up a few minutes longer.

Hermione laughed silently hearing their bed-time reading. Instead of a fairy story, Leon and Flora took turns reading aloud one of Ron’s Ministry Reports. That evening it was the report of Harry’s rescue from the night before together with a preliminary report on the robbery that lead to the siege.

She was also surprised when a little later she received kisses goodnight from Flora and a very sleepy Leon. She returned them a little awkwardly.

Eventually, Hermione and Harry were the last to retire to bed after Ron made him promise not to go anywhere without telling him first.

If anything, Ron seemed more worried by the fact that Harry had drunk hardly any alcohol that evening. Hermione supposed that this was on the basis if he was too drunk to move he would be far less likely to get himself into trouble. Recalling the Prophet headlines she’d read on previous anniversaries, she doubted if this was a reasonable assumption.

The clock chimed one o’clock in the morning.

Sunday (Day Three)

“Poor Rita won’t have anything to report in tomorrow’s edition,” said Hermione as soon as the clock chimes ceased.

“Don’t you believe it,” said Harry. “Absence of facts never stopped Rita.”

“True. Still, I’m surprised you’ve stayed here this long.”

Harry shrugged and said, “I suppose I’m afraid of what I might do.”

“This year seems worse?”

“Yes.”

“When were you planning on giving Ron the slip?”

Harry smiled and nodded.

“I suppose they’ve told you about their little conspiracy?”

“I’m even supplying a couple of tickets, Harry. They don’t think you know anything about it, I’m sure.”

“Well, I planned on going up there with them and then disappearing when they go into the Great Hall. How did you know?”

“You were looking around earlier, as if you were trying to savour the memories. I had the impression you didn't plan to be around here for much longer.”

“I didn’t think I was that obvious.”

“Harry, please reconsider. They care for you. Just think how hurt they will be. Especially those children.”

“I can’t go on like this, Hermione.”

“Living a lie?”

“Tomorrow, or rather later today, Malfoy will stand up and give his version of what happened. He’s had a couple of years to think it up, so it’s bound to be good.”

“So, you intend for his version to be written into the history books, do you?”

“Hopefully, I’ll be relegated to a small footnote.”

“That’s a little unrealistic.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes.

“Are you ashamed of what happened, Harry?”

“I’m ashamed of lots of things. I’m ashamed that I made Ron lie. I’m ashamed I let you believe I was angry with you for so long, when I was really just angry with myself.”

“Will you feel ashamed when you abandon the people who’ve shown you so much loyalty and kindness?”

“Of course.”

“But, even so, you’ll still let them go and listen to Malfoy’s version? That seems a rather poor way to repay their love.”

“I didn’t ask them to buy tickets they couldn’t afford.”

“They did it for you, Harry.”

Harry sighed deeply and said, “Go on. Say it.”

“I have a better idea, Harry.”

*

“Where’s Uncle Harry?” complained Leon loudly.

“Shh, Darling,” said Luna. “Sit quietly while everyone finishes their meals.”

“I don’t want any more.”

“Have some juice then.”

Luna smiled apologetically across the table. The old wizard opposite smiled warmly back at Luna while his wife chatted to Molly Weasley. He had hardly spoken a word throughout dinner.

The Weasley party were all sat together at one large circular table with an elderly couple they did not know. Harry’s place was conspicuously vacant, but Ginny and Neville were there. Their table was towards the back of the hall, as were most of the parties with children.

“Maybe I should go and check on Ann?” said Ginny.

“She’ll be fine,” said Neville reassuringly. “I haven’t seen Madam Pomfrey so happy for ages. How many babies did she have in her crèche tonight?”

“Quite a few.”

“I’m going to get so fired,” muttered Ron, who had spent much of the evening trying not to be noticed by any of his Ministry colleagues. Harry’s boss Browne in particular had ordered him to stay away from the celebration dinners and keep Harry away as well.

“Oh, I shouldn’t worry,” said Mr Weasley, waving a friendly hello to someone a couple of tables across. “No-one else is on duty tonight.”

A few minutes later the last of the food was cleared from the tables and the Minister for Magic rose to his feet.

Luna bent down and said seriously, “Now remember, you two. You must be quiet during the speeches. If you want to go outside, we should go now.”

Flora and Leon nodded. Flora had spent a lot of time looking around interestedly at all the fashions, but Leon was already kicking his seat restlessly.

The Minister’s speech proved to be both long and incredibly boring.

The children were not alone in wishing it would come to an end. Unfortunately, their vocal complaints carried in the quiet Hall. This earned amused looks from some and disapproving dark looks from others as the Minister droned on.

Luna was at the point of taking them outside when the elderly wizard pointed his wand at the floral table decoration. It instantly sprang to life and the flowers wove themselves into two figures that waltzed silently around the table.

The children were captivated at once, as were several bored guests sat at other tables.

Finally, the Minister sat down and the children clapped enthusiastically, but to the bowing dancers rather than the Minister.

Up at the top table, the Minister acknowledged the polite applause and sat down again. The old wizard who had introduced him got to his feet again.

“Dad, who is that?” asked Ginny in a whisper.

“That’s old Galworthy. He’s one of the school Governors.”

“Shouldn’t Professor McGonagall be doing the introductions. It’s her school now, after all.”

“I understand she refused outright to introduce Malfoy.”

Just then someone came and sat down at their table.

“Hey, that’s Uncle Harry’s chair!” complained Leon.

“Well, I’ll go as soon as he arrives,” she promised, smiling down at the disapproving boy. “Hello, Edward,” she said warmly to the elderly wizard.

He nodded and smiled back.

“It’s so nice to see you. I heard you might be unable to attend.”

“Hello, Professor,” said Luna warmly.

“I’m going to be in Gryffindor,” said Leon seriously, making it quite clear such things as taking Harry’s chair would not go unpunished.

“An excellent House,” agreed Professor McGonagall. “Will you sister be in the same House?”

“I’m hoping for Ravenclaw,” Flora said at once. “Like Mum.”

Professor McGonagall nodded, looking up to see that Galworthy was still talking.

“I apologise for interrupting,” she said in a whisper.

“No, you’re most welcome,” whispered Mr Weasley at once.

“I just wondered where he’s got to,” whispered the Professor, obviously meaning Harry.

The Weasleys just looked at each other but could only shrug an answer.

“Hermione?” she added hopefully.

“She said she didn’t want to come and we thought there weren’t enough tickets anyway.”

Professor McGonagall nodded sadly as Galworthy finished, “Pray silence for Mr Draco Malfoy.”

*

Malfoy stood to warm applause and Ron dared to look up at the top table. Malfoy was standing next to the Minister for Magic and next to him was Browne. Malfoy acknowledged the applause with several nods and fussily adjusted his sleeves, tucking away some expensive looking ruby cufflinks. Ron was rather disappointed to see he wasn’t wearing head bandages for the evening.

Ron ducked down again and was a little surprised to see that neither Professor McGonagall nor the elderly couple at their table were clapping.

“Thank you,” said Malfoy as soon as the applause had died down. “As many of you know, the Wizengamot were kind enough to revise their previous ruling. As a result I have been able to enjoy your company this evening. It is a pleasant change, but I have found that the voluntary work I’ve been doing at St Mungos over the last couple of nights has given me a valuable opportunity to consider my future and how I might best serve the wider wizarding community.”

Ron grimaced seeing the nods of approval around the hall. He certainly hadn’t seen Malfoy at St Mungos.

“I did not appeal the original Wizengamot ruling, however. With your permission, I would like to take this opportunity to correct a number of inaccuracies which have been circulating concerning the demise of the Dark Lord.”

Malfoy paused and for a fleeting moment a pained expression crossed his face.

“First of all, I should confirm that I was indeed a Death Eater.”

A wave of low muttering grew from the listening guests.

“I had little choice, of course. A sixteen year old unqualified wizard does not say no to the most powerful dark wizard of all time. If I wished to live, I had to accept the Dark Mark.”

Malfoy took a sip of water, his hand trembling slightly.

“The return of the Dark Lord had been eagerly anticipated by many, indeed most, of my friends and family. Many died in his service. I myself, a naive young man, was also ready to give everything for the Dark Lord’s cause.

“I say this, not to shock, but to emphasise that at that time I had no idea what becoming a follower of the Dark Lord really meant. His opponents seemed weak and hardly worthy; while his allies seemed strong.

“I now very much regret my association with the Dark Lord, and it is because of this that I decided to stay in Azkaban for all this time. I considered that I deserved that incarceration, even though I was never personally involved in any of the atrocities committed in the Dark Lord’s name.”

“Lying scum,” snarled Ron in a low voice. Luna immediately took a firm hold of his arm as a warning to keep quiet.

“Of course,” continued Malfoy with a malicious glint in his eye, “I do consider the regular taunts and insults from Harry Potter to be a little beyond the punishment intended by the Wizengamot.”

Browne shifted uncomfortably.

“Still, Potter was my only regular visitor. His behaviour reminded me that not all of the Dark Lord’s victims are dead. Indeed, he is to be pitied. I suspect that he has not been able to forgive himself for allowing me to save him that night.”

Malfoy paused, looking to Ron like he was desperately trying not to laugh.

“On the morning before the Dark Lord fell, he gave me his final orders. By that time, I was convinced that the Dark Lord had to be stopped somehow. He had just murdered some of his closest advisors because of their incompetence, and frankly I’m still surprised he didn’t kill me as well.

“The Dark Lord was extraordinarily talented when it came to his Legilimency skills. He was rarely fooled by anyone. I therefore made sure I was some distance from him before I even dared consider what to do. I knew my orders would bring me close to the Dark Lord when he intended to finally kill Potter.

“You know? For all his power and great intelligence, the Dark Lord continued to believe that Potter was his nemesis, right up to the end.

“I’m still amazed by this. I knew Potter from school. Despite what the media said about him, he was mediocre to poor at everything he tried to do. It was obvious to everyone that he was growing so afraid towards the end, he was literally coming to pieces.

“However, when I did consider things, it became obvious to me that I had an ideal opportunity to rid the world of the Dark Lord once and for all. I was trusted and the Dark Lord wanted Potter.

“My one real fear was that Potter would commit suicide rather than finally face the Dark Lord.

“Anyway, my orders were to kidnap one of Potter’s close friends or associates and use them as bait to draw Potter into a trap where the Dark Lord would finish him. Now, I knew I didn’t need any bait other than myself, of course. Potter was so deranged he needed little prompting to pursue me.”

Malfoy took another sip, but this time drank deeply from a wine glass, clearly enjoying himself.

“Now I must admit to being terribly tempted to just let the Dark Lord finish Potter and then step in. In the event, I stunned Potter as soon as the Dark Lord appeared. It was quite a relief to silence his whimpering. I thought he was going to wet himself-”

“That’s not what happened!”

Leon’s voice rang out with extraordinary clarity.

Almost everyone turned to look towards the back of the hall where Luna was quietly trying to hush her son.

There were a couple of indistinct objections from Leon before Malfoy attempted to regain everyone’s attention with a soft cough.

“No!” said Leon again.

“It seems someone is a little restless,” Malfoy joked. “I entirely sympathise. There have been many times when I wished for nothing more than to go outside and run around.”

A few guests to the front gave soft chuckles and turned their attention back to Malfoy. More than a few, though, continued to pay more attention to what the child was saying.

“It’s true, Mum,” said Flora as Leon continued to refuse more drink.

“Darling, please,” whispered Luna looking up at Ron for support.

Ron, though, looked like he was deciding something. He slowly pushed his seat back and Luna frowned at him.

“Can we really afford for you to lose your job?” she whispered pointedly. “Harry’s not here to give his side. He’s the only one who can support your version.”

Edward then spoke for the first time, but he didn’t bother to lower his voice.

“I think a short stroll would do me good. Perhaps you children would be kind enough to guide an old man towards the door?”

Both children looked rebelliously back at him for a moment, but then seemed back down seeing his warm smile.

“Okay,” said Flora miserably.

“I’ll follow you out,” whispered Luna as they got to their feet.

Ron had to move his seat forward in order to let Edward past with his walking stick. He was pleased to see both of his children attentive to the needs of the old man, making sure his path was clear.

The tension in the hall seemed to ease and Malfoy paused while the party left.

However, once Edward got to the great doors, he turned and went up towards the top table. The children were somewhat confused, but followed. Luna just stood there with a bemused look on her face at the back of the hall.

A low murmuring rose as the three of them got closer to the top table.

“Ambassador Kewney,” said Malfoy stiffly. “You are looking well.”

“Thank you,” replied Edward with an arthritic nod of his head. “I was enjoying your speech, but I’m afraid this young man seems to think that part of it may be untrue. Is that so?” he asked, turning and looking down at Leon.

“He’s lying!” yelled Leon.

“I’m saying he’s lying too!” objected Flora.

“My apologies,” said Edward kindly. “So, that’s two people who think you are lying.”

“No,” said Flora at once. “We know he’s lying, we don’t just think he’s lying.”

“Indeed?”

Malfoy looked furious but desperately tried not to lose control of himself. The WWW microphone in front of him quivered slightly.

“Governor Galworthy, Minister,” pleaded Malfoy. “This is most amusing, but must I put up with this?”

“He didn’t stun Uncle Harry and he didn’t kill Voldemort!” cried Leon.

There was a collective gasp around the hall.

“Uncle Harry?” said Browne. “Just a minute. Are you Weasley’s children?”

“I believe so,” admitted Edward.

Malfoy couldn’t hide the malice in his sneer hearing this.

“Edward,” said the Minister, “this is hardly the place for such theatrics. We are all here to celebrate the fall of You-Know-Who, after all. Perhaps these young people would be happier outside in the fresh air?”

“Yes, and maybe a couple of Silencio spells wouldn’t go amiss, either,” added Malfoy, his voice travelling far further than perhaps he intended.

Ron shot up to his feet at once.

“Don’t you threaten my children Malfoy!” he shouted.

“I think,” said Edward pointedly, “that it is time for everyone to hear the truth.”

“The Wizengamot pardoned me!” said Malfoy.

“Indeed, but they never ruled on the demise of Voldemort, did they?”

“The Ministry hearings,” began the Minister.

“Were never concluded,” finished Edward. “The report into the demise of Voldemort was never completed and certainly not published.”

“What would you know? You senile old fool!” spat Malfoy.

“Stop saying the name!” pleaded Galworthy desperately. “We’re on air, live to over forty countries!”

Edward smiled at Malfoy, making him stop and frown. It was as if he recognised that particular smile from somewhere.

“Senile or not, I believe I’m entitled to hear the truth about what happened. After all, that is why seats were in such high demand this year.”

“You are seriously going to accept the word of two hysterical Weasley brats over mine?”

“That’s not a difficult decision, Malfoy,” admitted Edward.

“They’ve probably listened to lies about what happened from the moment they were born.”

“I’m afraid that much is true,” admitted Edward.

Malfoy swallowed his next words as he took in what Kewney had just said. Clearly wrong footed, he blurted out, “See, even this old fool agrees with me!”

Edward looked down at the two children and said, “I owe you an apology. Well, actually, my apology should first be made to your father.”

“Dad?”

Ron frowned, looking utterly perplexed. He was now standing next to Luna. Mrs Kewney stood up and walked over to join them.

“Perhaps I should explain,” said Edward. “First of all, Ambassador Kewney sends his apologies for being absent this evening. He and his wife were rather looking forward to coming, but they agreed to delay their arrival and actually enjoyed their meal this evening down in the kitchens with the house elves.”

The doors to the Great Hall opened and Mr and Mrs Kewney stepped inside and proceeded over to where a chuckling Professor McGonagall was waiting to greet them.

Ron looked between Kewney and Edward and between the two Mrs Kewneys.

Once the new arrivals were seated, Edward continued.

“Malfoy, according to your story, you stunned Harry Potter the moment Voldemort appeared. Is that your version?”

“That is what happened.”

“Liar!” said Leon.

Edward placed a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder and he became silent.

“That can’t be true,” said Flora calmly.

“Why can’t it?” asked Browne.

The Minister groaned and said, “Should we really even listen to this?”

“Minister, the Wizengamot and yourself were remarkably adept at not listening, or at least not hearing, many things concerning He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named,” said Browne. “I for one would like to know more. Please, continue child.”

Flora blushed, realising that everyone was now looking at her.

“Mum and Dad were fighting inside the Forbidden Forest with someone else. Aunty Ginny and Uncle Neville were fighting at the edge of the forest, trying to get help. There were only three people there at the very end. Uncle Harry, Draco Malfoy and Voldemort.”

“Yes, the official record agrees with that,” agreed Browne, listening carefully. “Go on.”

“The someone else was Hermione Granger,” prompted Edward. “Luna was badly injured and Hermione managed to get your Mum back to where Ginny and Neville were. They were protecting about twenty or so students at the time. They were all under heavy attack by the Death Eaters by then too.”

“Yes,” agreed Browne, remembering. “My youngest daughter was amongst them. Wasn’t there some kind of argument too?”

“Yes. Ginny and Hermione had a stand-up row right in the middle of the fighting. They actually disabled more Death Eaters while they shouted at each other than when they stopped and fought individually,” said Edward with a smile and a quick glance back at Ginny.

“I only found out recently what they were arguing over,” continued Edward.

“Sara always refused to say,” said Browne.

“It seems that Ginny accused Hermione of abandoning her brother Ron.”

Ginny stood with tears in her eyes and said, “Harry too. I accused her of abandoning Harry too.”

She wiped her eyes and turned to face Ron and Luna.

“I’m sorry, Hermione.”

“Me too,” said an emotional Hermione, from behind them. Ron turned with a start, seeing the last of Mrs Kewney’s greying hairs transform back into Hermione’s brown hair.

“So, what happened then?” prompted Edward gently.

Flora’s attention snapped back to him after she had watched Hermione’s transformation with rapt attention.

“Um, Dad was still fighting in the forest. He said he ran to where Voldemort was fighting, but it was all over by the time he got there.”

Flora hesitated, having reached the part of the story that included one part Harry hadn’t been prepared to tell them about.

Edward smiled reassuringly at her.

“Dad saw Uncle Harry and Draco Malfoy coming back out of the forest,” she continued.

“Yes, and the Weasel is on record as confirming it was me who carried Potter out to safety.”

“Mind your language, Malfoy,” spat Browne. “That’s a Ministry official you are insulting.”

“Quite so,” agreed Edward.

“That hardly changes what Weasley said at the time,” interrupted the Minster.

Ron walked towards the front of the hall.

“I’m afraid that I haven’t told the whole truth,” he admitted. “That’s what you meant by them listening to lies?”

Edward smiled and nodded.

“I’m sorry kids,” said Ron. “The truth is, Harry begged me to lie. He wanted me to agree that it was Malfoy who helped Harry out of the forest. It was really the other way around.”

“You are saying Potter stunned Malfoy?”

“No. No-one was stunned. Malfoy was rigid with fear, that’s all.”

“These are just more lies!” cried Malfoy.

“Flora?” said Browne. “Please continue. I’ve still not heard anything so far that refutes what Malfoy is saying.”

“Well, you see it isn’t logical,” she said. “If Malfoy told the truth, he alone killed Voldemort. That wouldn’t have been possible unless the last Horcrux was destroyed.”

“Horcrux?”

“How in Merlin’s name do you know about such Dark Magic, child?” demanded the Minster in alarm.

“It was Voldemort’s last guarantee that he couldn’t be killed,” continued Flora, now talking directly to Browne. “A piece of his soul was secreted outside his body. While that last Horcrux survived, he couldn’t be killed.”

“That’s why the killing curses didn’t affect him?” asked Browne. “I remember hitting him with two a couple of months before the end. I was sure we’d cornered him that time, too.”

“You couldn’t kill him because the last two Horcruxes were still in existence.”

“Yes,” agreed Ron. “We watched Harry destroy the sixth Horcrux just days after that. We tried to get you to put off that raid, you recall?”

“You did,” recalled Browne, nodding slowly. “Scrimgeour insisted we try anyway.”

“Before he could be killed as a mortal,” continued Flora, “the last Horcrux had to be destroyed first.”

“Okay,” agreed Browne. “Yes, I follow so far.”

“So, how did you destroy the Horcrux, Malfoy?” asked Edward, wondering how much he remembered. Voldemort had taunted Harry at the very end, believing he was immortal.

“Um,” said Malfoy. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to publicise such powerful magic.”

“Malfoy, you came here to give a speech about the fall of You-Know-Who!” exclaimed Browne. “You can hardly back out now.”

“Well, if you insist,” spat Malfoy bitterly. “I turned my wand on myself and-”

“Why?”

“Um, to destroy the last Horcrux.”

“You-Know-Who used you as the container for his last Horcrux?” asked the Minister.

“No, of course he didn’t,” said Flora. “When Voldemort tried to kill Uncle Harry as a baby, he inadvertently created a Horcrux. He didn’t mean to, but that’s partly why he survived. His Mother gave her life to save him but Voldemort broke the binding Magical Contract he had made with her. His soul was ripped apart and baby Harry got a bit of it.”

“Well, there isn’t any evidence that Malfoy wasn’t used as a container, is there?”

“It wasn’t a secret that You-Know-Who ordered Potter not to be harmed by anyone other than himself,” said Browne.

“Malfoy said he pointed the wand at himself,” said Flora. “That was presumably to destroy the last Horcrux. What happened then?” she demanded.

“I killed him with a killing curse,” said Malfoy rather unconvincingly.

“I meant, what did you feel when the Horcrux was destroyed?”

“Yeah,” agreed Ron. “Dumbledore’s hand was horribly injured when he destroyed the Horcrux in Slytherin’s ring. Surely you must have felt something?”

“Well, it hurt a bit,” lied Malfoy.

There were a couple of sniggers from behind them at these words.

“In fact,” said Edward, his green eyes full of emotion, “nothing happened at all. I couldn’t believe it. Voldemort was almost beside himself with laughter. I’d gambled everything and lost. I was so sure that I still had the last Horcrux inside me. I can still hear his high, cruel laughter.”

Leon took hold of Harry’s hand the moment he had transformed.

“It only occurred to me then that in using my blood to return to a human body, Voldemort might have accidentally transferred the Horcrux back into himself. After all, it had originally been created quite by accident as far as he was concerned. He had been protected while the sixth Horcrux remained, but not after that.

“I don’t think he knew what I was trying to do at first. The incantation was developed by Hermione and only the six of us knew what it was.

“I could see it in his eyes the moment I reasoned that he had actually been mortal the whole time. That’s when we fought to the death. You know? Malfoy was certainly partly responsible. I fell over him and dropped my wand. Voldemort couldn’t resist one last taunt, but I was able to grab my wand back and fire up at him.”

Flora frowned slightly, knowing Harry had just edited the story and he felt Leon’s hand tighten. He’d noticed too but Harry trusted them both not to question him in public.

“I didn’t actually use an Unforgivable Curse on him in the end, but I transfigured his body into a bone. We destroyed the remains finally a few days later when the six of us were all together again.

“Malfoy and I actually helped each other out of the forest. We met up Ron on the way out. All I could think about was how it was finally over. It wasn’t, of course, but that’s what I was hoping for. It was later that I asked Ron to lie for me about what he’d seen.”

Harry took a deep breath and felt like a massive load had just been lifted off his shoulders. At long last he had told the truth. Well, the part that mattered, anyway. He had fulfilled his promise to the Centaurs, if not his obligations to them.

There was complete silence in the Great Hall now.

Finally, the Minister cleared his throat.

“I still don’t see how all this refutes Malfoy’s version. If You-Know-Who was mortal, Potter could have been stunned and Malfoy could have killed him.”

Leon frowned at the Minister and said darkly, “I told you he was lying but you didn’t wait to hear what I had to say.”

Everyone looked at Leon.

Monday (The Fourth day)

Hogwarts Celebration Dinner Ends in Uproar!

The Hogwarts annual celebration dinner ended in complete uproar last night, writes Rita Skeeter special correspondent, when Draco Malfoy was sensationally arrested as he tried to finish his after dinner speech.

Malfoy was transferred back to Azkaban in the early hours of Monday morning while he awaits trial for a number of new charges including murder and Muggle theft.

Diners listened intently as Flora Weasley, granddaughter of Arthur Weasley, challenged Malfoy’s version of the defeat of You-Know-Who. This culminated in the appearance of Harry Potter who had attended in the guise of Ambassador Kewney.

As if this wasn’t enough, thousands of listeners were treated to the sound of Malfoy resisting arrest. His accuser was bright four year old Leon, sister of Flora and son of former Ravenclaw Luna Weasley.

Young Leon explained in graphic terms, which this respectable newspaper will not reproduce on its front page (see page 3 for full transcript), how he knew Malfoy had to be guilty.

It took some time for Browne, Head of the Auror Department and Auror Harry Potter to finally understand all his assertions.

Young Leon had apparently pieced together the evidence that no-one else in the Auror Department could from confidential Ministry Reports his father had allowed him to read.

It was later revealed that Malfoy had stolen substantial amounts of gold and jewellery in order to pay off creditors that include several prominent members of the Wizengamot and the Minister of Magic himself. It was perhaps unwise to wear a stolen item of jewellery when the observant Leon was present.

The evening was completed with a live reprimand and suspension for Ronald Weasley from the Minister of Magic, followed inexplicably by an immediate promotion by Browne. In the end Weasley and Potter had to intervene when Browne and the Minister resorted to fighting each other.

Diner Aubry Grub of Lower Middlemarch said, “I can’t remember when an anniversary dinner has been so exciting. My wife and I can’t wait for what they plan to do next year!”

Perhaps young Leon should be placed in charge…

*

“It must be some kind of record,” said Harry, closing the Daily Prophet.

“Yes. Poor Luna.”

“Poor Ron, you mean?”

“Ron got the promotion,” Hermione reminded him. “Luna had the embarrassment of listening to her child being responsible for complaints from as far away as China!”

“It wasn’t fair, reprimanding Ron like that. Still, at least he can enjoy his suspension and take a few days off. It’ll give them a chance to fit out his new office too.”

“Who was that man the Minister was arguing with?”

“Browne? He’s Head of the Auror Department. You really are out of touch, aren’t you?” he teased.

“I just thought he showed character, arguing for Ron like that.”

“Ron’s the only one in the entire Ministry who is prepared to fill out his stupid reports, actually.”

“It was still exciting, listening to them row for the entire wizarding world to hear. The moment they realised the WWW network was still broadcasting was precious!”

Harry laughed again and nodded.

“I hope Ron insists you fill out all his reports, now he’s your new boss!”

“He isn’t actually going to be my boss, Hermione, not unless I get demoted. Mind you, I’d rather have Ron any time.” Then he added with regret, “I knew I should have kicked Browne that time.”

Hermione shifted her head against Harry’s chest and said, “So, you finally told the world part of what really happened?”

“I suppose I did,” he agreed.

“Maybe one day you’ll feel ready to share the rest.”

“Maybe.”

“You know there will always be some doubt as to what happened?”

“Yes, but at least Ron hasn’t got to feel guilty about lying for me any more. And you’ve made it up with Ginny and Luna.”

“Mm, well, we’ve made a start. That wasn’t the only difference we had.”

“I guessed as much. Will you move a little closer to home now?” he asked hopefully.

“Perhaps.”

“I think Crookshanks prefers it here.”

“Mm,” she agreed. “How come you knew Ambassador Kewney?”

“We go way back, actually. I needed someone to keep an eye on you while you were abroad, and he seemed to be the ideal choice. I knew you needed to get your International Witch visa from his department.”

Hermione lifted her head up.

“You had me spied upon?”

“Only in as much as he made sure he knew where you were and that you were okay. I never asked where you were or what you were doing.”

“I still don’t approve,” she said, lowering her head back down. “Ron seemed terribly relieved that the Three Days were over for another year. I did suggest you might be pacing yourself for a Fourth Day mania, just to keep the Press happy.”

Harry chuckled and said, “That was cruel.”

“It’s okay, he wasn’t listening.”

“There isn’t going to be a fourth day, Hermione. In fact, I’ve decided there won’t be the Three Days anymore, either.”

Hermione pushed herself up and kissed him lightly.

“As far as I’m concerned,” he continued, but Hermione hushed him.

“Don’t say it, Harry. You can ignore all the anniversaries if you want, but I shall always remember today. After all, it is really our anniversary.”

Harry frowned.

“Is it?”

“Harry!” she said in exasperation. “Hospital Wing? I comforted you outside normal visiting hours. Remember?”

“I certainly remember it hurting,” he quipped, seeing her blush. “That was you?” he asked, laughing.

Hermione laughed and said, “I know it was dark, Harry, but still!”

“Maybe you could remind me?” he asked with a kiss.

END

AN: Hm.

Sorry the “final battle” doesn’t really work. I’ve been struggling with this one for a while now and although I was fairly pleased with a couple of scenes, I didn’t think I could recycle them into other stories.

The idea was Harry couldn’t destroy the last Horcrux before he fought Voldemort because he fully expected the spell to seriously injure him if not actually kill him. The other five were to then join in the attack and kill the mortal Voldemort. This went wrong because they were delayed dealing with all the Death Eaters and had to remain to protect the students.

Originally this was to be the Fifth anniversary. It worked in most respects except one: the children seemed too young, even being bright for their age.