2. Free Me from This Mockery of Justice

Wow, nine reviews on Fanfiction and twenty-two on Portkey. That's pretty good for a first chapter.

I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, Snape would be evil, Ginny would be dead, and Harry would have hooked up with Hermione a long time ago.

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Chapter 1 - Free Me from This Mockery of Justice

“...Okay, guys, you all know what to do, now go do it,” Harry addressed the various Prefects before them. After the fall of Voldemort, Hogwarts had reopened for the new year, and those who couldn't attend the year before were allowed to retry the grade that they had missed. Of course, his best friend Hermione Granger was chosen to be Head Girl, but by some miracle, Headmistress Minerva McGonnagal had decided to make Harry Head Boy. As they and the various Prefects milled out to patrol the train, Harry looked at Hermione. “So, how are things with your parents?” he asked.

“Good,” Hermione said, smiling. “They're slowly but surely easing their way back into their old lives. It's rough, but they'll make it.” Harry nodded understandingly and chewed his tongue, wondering if he should ask his next question.

“And how are you and Ron?” he asked quietly. Ever since he got the Head Boy badge, Ron had been avoiding him like the plague, always giving him disdainful looks and only speaking to him if absolutely necessary. Hermione's smile immediately faded.

“Not so well,” she said sullenly. “When we first got together, Ron was very sweet, like he had really changed. But after the war ended and we went back to our lives, he reverted back to his old self. His jealousy of you getting the Head Boy position over him is simply proof positive of that,” she sighed. “We both know I'm not one for Divination, but I have a feeling we'll break up before Christmas.” Harry didn't know why, but he felt strangely elated at this news. Hermione turned to look up at him.

“What about you?” she asked. “How are things between you and Ginny?” Harry sighed and shook his head.

“Not so well,” he echoed her words from before. “It seems that all we seem to do is snog and argue, and we don't even snog that much anymore.” He opened a random compartment door. Seeing that it was empty, he closed it again and continued walking. “Our arguments are primarily about you, whether it's as Ron girlfriend, you're not supportive of him enough, or that she's supposed to be the most important woman in my life, and that I'm spending too much time with you, her brother's girlfriend.” He chuckled humorlessly. “Maybe we could bet which one of us will break up first?” he asked rhetorically. Hermione snorted at his proposition.

“Gambling is a horrible habit,” she said sternly, her hands on her hips. Harry just shrugged innocently.

“I heard that quite a few people got rich during the Tri-Wizard tournament, that's all I'm saying,” Harry said. Hermione just rolled their eyes and they finished their patrol in comfortable silence.

After the train docked at Hogsmeade station, they climbed into the thestral-drawn carriages (Hermione paused at the sight of the creatures, but Harry had long since gotten used to them) and rode to Hogwarts. When the reached the Great Hall, Harry saw auror Hestia Jones sitting at the Head Table, along with several new faces. Professor Flitwick climbed onto a stool of his own and placed the Sorting Hat on its stool. The tear in its brim opened into a rough mouth and it burst into song.

A thousand years and more ago,

When I was shiny and new,

The time's four greatest mages

Sought to build a school,

To train the minds of those

Who were weak, naive and young,

And to think, it was once a passing fancy

When one of their number was sloshing drunk.

Master of the sword and wand, Godric Gryffindor,

Said, “I shall take those with honor and valor.”

So those of valor, he took into his hold,

And hoisted a lion's banner of blood red and yellow gold.

“I shall take those most loyal,” said Helga Hufflepuff,

“Who shall never flee when times grow most tough.”

So under the sun's gold and above the black soil,

Still stand those who shall never run from toil.

“I shall take the wise,” spoke Rowena Ravenclaw,

“For I value knowledge, not skulls full of straw.”

So now in blue and white; wise, knowing scholars,

Now proudly wear the bronze eagle on their collars.

Salazar Slytherin hissed, “And finally, shall I

“Take those who are cunning, slippery and sly.”

So now those under that of which it slithers,

Proudly wear the colors of venom green and silver.

I could go on for many hours,

But now this song must end,

So put me on, let me sort you,

And let the Hogwarts year begin!

As the school burst into applause, Hermione leaned over to Harry.

“Kind of short, isn't it?” she asked. Harry just shrugged as the first-years began to be sorted. As soon as they were sent to their appropriate houses, Professor McGonnagal stood up from her seat at the center of the head table.

“We have some announcements to make this evening, but I am sure that you would rather fill your stomachs right now, so tuck in,” she said, and she clapped three times, alerting the house elves below to start sending food up.

Once the last of the pudding had disappeared, Professor McGonnagal stood up again.

“Firstly, I would like to remind you that venturing into the Forbidden Forest is strictly forbidden, hence the name. Secondly, Mister Filch has asked that I inform you that the list of banned items has increased to nine hundred and forty-three; the full contents can be found in his office. Finally, we have some new and returning faculty.” She gestured to a large man with a moustache that made him look like a walrus.

“Returning to fill the role of Potions teacher is Professor Slughorn.” There was some polite clapping from the students.

“Filling the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts is former auror Hestia Jones.” There was more polite clapping, as well as whispering from the students. “I would appreciate it if the student body did not run a betting pool as to how Professor Jones will be driven from her post, if you please,” Professor McGonnagal added sternly, and the whispering immediately stopped.

“Filling the role of Muggle Studies is Professor Ambercrombie,” she continued, gesturing to a middle-aged man with blonde hair and brown eyes.

“And finally, filling in for Transfiguration is Professor Newhart,” she concluded, gesturing to a tall, thin man in his seventies with blue eyes and gray hair. “The Head Boy and Girl for this year are Harry Potter and Hermione Granger.” This time there was excited clapping from most of the students. “I'm sure that you're all tired now, so Head Boy and Girl, please follow me; the rest of you, follow your Prefects to your respective dormitories.” Harry and Hermione stood up and followed Professor McGonnagal as the rest of the students milled out of the Great Hall. They stopped when they reached a portrait of a unicorn near the kitchens. “The password is `harmony,'” Professor McGonnagal said. “I hope you enjoy your last year at Hogwarts, and uphold your positions,” she added.

“We will,” Hermione said confidently. Professor McGonnagal flashed them one of her rare smiles before bidding them goodnight and walking away. Speaking the password, Harry and Hermione walked into the Head Common Room. It looked a lot like the Gryffindor Common Room, but to the side of the stairways to their rooms was another door labeled “Bathroom”.

“Are you going to be okay with your new wand?” Hermione asked as she turned to Harry. Harry held up his new eleven-inch holly and dragon heartstring wand.

“It's not perfect, but it'll do,” Harry admitted. “Besides, I'm getting good at my wandless magic, see?” he said. He pointed at a candle on a desk, and it slowly levitated upwards before drifting back down. Hermione nodded in satisfaction.

“It's a big improvement, Harry, I'm proud of you,” she said sincerely.

“Thanks,” he said. “Well, see you tomorrow,” he said, walking upstairs to his bedroom.

“`Night,” she said up to him before walking up to her own bedroom.

The next few days were fairly uneventful, except for one incident in Potions where Harry got a bit to eager chopping up his ingredients and ended up nicking his thumb.

“Go, Harry, I'll cover for you,” Hermione said as Harry squeezed his thumb and muttered in pain. Harry ran to the nearest bathroom and wiped the pooled blood with a paper towel before cleaning the wound and bound it and returning to class. As he left, he failed to notice a figure emerge from a cubicle behind him and pull out the bloody towel from the rubbish bin.

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MINISTRY OF MAGIC, MINISTER'S OFFICE, NIGHTTIME

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Kingsley Shacklebolt, acting Minister of Magic until elections could be held again, was currently packing up for the night. He thought being one of the top aurors in the force was stressful; being Minister was absolute torture. His biggest problem was trying to force change past the pureblood bureaucrats in the Wizengamot, who had their minds stuck on outdated laws and customs. As he finished putting away some loose files, he heard a knocking on the door.

“Come in,” Shacklebolt said as he closed his briefcase. The door opened and someone walked in, hiding in the shadows. “Can I help you?” he asked. Instead of answering, the figure walked out into the moonlight, illuminating his face. Shacklebolt's eyes widened in surprise. “Shouldn't you be at Hogwarts?” Still silent, the figure simply raised his wand and spoke two words that Shacklebolt never expected.

“Avada Kedavra,” the figure whispered, and a bright green light shot out of his wand and hit Shacklebolt straight in the chest. The murderer looked up at the small monitoring crystal nestled into the corner of the ceiling and waved at it before walking out.

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HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY, THE NEXT DAY

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Harry walked down to the Great Hall, breakfast already in progress. He sat next to Hermione, who was eating a piece of toast and had her face buried in Hogwarts, A History for the umpteenth time. Harry chuckled softly as he started spooning eggs onto his plate, when the fireplace flared green, and three aurors stepped out. Harry grimaced when he recognized one of them as Dawlish. Dawlish said something to his partner and they walked in his direction while the third walked to Professor McGonnagal. Once they were within a few yards from Harry, Dawlish and his partner whipped out their wands.

“Harry Potter, by order of the Ministry of Magic, you are under arrest,” Dawlish snarled. “You can come quietly, or we can make you come, your choice.”

“Arrested? On what charge?” Harry asked defiantly, pulling out his own wand.

“For killing the Minister of Magic,” a voice said behind him. Harry turned around to see Professor McGonnagal with a sad look on her face and a scroll in her hand. “This,” she said, holding up the scroll, “is an arrest warrant for killing the Minister of Magic. I'm sorry, Harry, but there's nothing I can do.” Harry sighed, defeated. He slowly nodded his head, and Dawlish roughly snatched Harry's wand out of his hand while his partner wrapped ropes around his wrists before dragging him back through the Floo to the Ministry of Magic. Professor McGonnagal stood tall and addressed the students.

“You will all be dismissed from classes today while I attempt to fix what I am sure is a grave mistake,” Professor McGonnagal said. “You may accompany me, Miss Granger,” she added softly to Hermione. She nodded, and together, they Flooed to the Ministry of Magic. Professor McGonnagal strode over to the clerk in the Atrium, who tapped his wand on his desk boredly.

“Where is the trial of Harry Potter?” she asked the attendant roughly.

“Courtroom ten, but you won't be able to get in,” the attendant said tiredly. Professor McGonnagal and Hermione simply ran to the nearest lift and rode it down to the courtroom level. They went to courtroom ten, only to see it surrounded by reporters and two aurors standing guard at the entrance.

“I'm sorry, misses, but this is a closed trial, Wizengamot members only,” one guard said.

“But I'm his headmistress, I demand to be there!” Professor McGonnagal shouted.

“I'm sorry, but I can't let you in; orders are orders,” the auror said. Scowling, the two women simply stood amongst the sea of reporters, anxiously waiting for the moment when Harry would be released.

Inside the courtroom, Harry struggled vainly against the chains that were binding him to the chair he was currently occupying. Above him sat several members of the Wizengamot, all of whom were giving him a glare of hatred, including a certain toad-like woman.

“The trial of Harry James Potter is now in session, on the charges of murdering Minister Kingsley Mortimer Shacklebolt, as well as treason to the wizarding world,” an old man read off of a scroll.

“Treason?!” Harry shouted, still struggling against his bindings.

“Sufficient evidence has been presented to find the accused party guilty of both counts— ” the Wizengamot member continued, but was once again interrupted.

“What evidence?” Harry snapped. The Wizengamot member sighed in irritation, but gestured to a man standing next to a covered podium. He wheeled the podium in front of Harry and removed the cloth to reveal that it was a pensieve. The man tapped the basin with his wand, and a projection appeared in front of Harry. It showed Shacklebolt cleaning up for the night, then a figure coming in and firing a killing curse at him. Then the figure turned around, and Harry gasped when he saw himself smiling and waving at the monitoring crystal before leaving. The man tapped his wand again, and the image disappeared.

“T-that wasn't me!” Harry sputtered. “Did you check my wand? I know you can do that!” The Wizengamot member gestured again, and the man that ran the pensieve touched his wand to Harry's and cast prior incantato. The image showed was one that Harry had practiced the night before for school. The Wizengamot snorted derisively.

“This simply shows that you were smart enough to erase the memory of the killing curse with a harmless one,” he said dismissively. Harry gaped at the old man incredulously.

“Then I demand veritaserum!” he shouted. The old man simply shook his head.

“Most of our stores were destroyed when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named took over the Ministry, and we used our remainder on interrogating prisoners, and it would take too long to wait for a fresh shipment to arrive. Besides, with the evidence we have, we do not need it.” The man cleared his throat and looked at his scroll again. “With sufficient evidence of the crime, as well as testimony from Theodore Nott Jr., Millicent Bulstrode, Pansy Parkinson, Marcus Flint, Abraham Dolohov, Mortimer Avery, Seamus Finnegan, Ronald Weasley and Ginevra Weasley, we of the Wizengamot find the accused party, Harry James Potter, guilty of mudering the Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt and for treason to the wizarding world. You are hereby sentenced to a lifetime sentence in Azkaban prison. Take him away.” The chains surrounding Harry fell away, and he felt himself being pulled up and dragged away, the doors swinging open to the blinding flashes of photographers' lightbulbs. Trying not to look at the reporters, Harry heard a familiar voice calling his name.

“Harry!” Hermione shouted, and Harry turned his head to see her and Professor McGonnagal struggling through the sea of reporters. “We'll get you out, Harry! We'll prove you're innocent, I promise you! I promise, we'll get you out!” Harry could only nod silently as he was dragged off to the worst prison in wizarding Europe.

When the two women Flooed back to Hogwarts, Hermione immediately strode to the Gryffindor table and adopted a sickeningly sweet smile.

“Ron, could you meet me in the Room of Requirement in an hour?” she asked sweetly. Ron, whose mouth was full of food, only nodded in confirmation. “Excellent.” She went back to her seat and buried her face in her book, keeping the cheerful facade up, even though she was dying inside.

An hour later, Ron showed up at the Room of Requirement to see Hermione already waiting for him. Ron jumped slightly when he heard the door close behind him.

“Ron, I have a surprise for you,” she said, uncharacteristically batting her eyelashes. “But I need to you close your eyes first.” Grinning dumbly, Ron closed his eyes, and puckered his lips for good measure. After checking to make sure that he wasn't really peeking, she pulled her arm back and thrust it forward, punching Ron in the face as hard as she could. She heard a sharp crack, and his nose was now crooked, a sure sign that she had broken it.

“My nobe!” Ron shouted nasally, clutching his face. “You broke my fubbing nobe!”

“That's right, and that was for Harry,” Hermione spat. “How could you, Ron?! He was your friend, our friend! He bent over backwards to make you happy, and you go and betray him?!” Hermione scoffed at him. “Like pet, like master, I suppose. Now get out of my sight before I do something I won't regret. I don't know how I ever fell for you, you petty, jealous, egotistical asshole! Get out!” Ron ran out of the room, clutching his bloody face and whimpering like a frightened puppy. As soon as the door slammed closed, it melted back into the wall to give Hermione privacy, and she collapsed onto the floor, sobbing.

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AZKABAN ISLAND PRISON, APPROXIMATELY ONE HOUR LATER

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Harry stumbled blindly through the prison. Although between the fact that the aurors had confiscated his glasses and he was being dragged around by two burly aurors, it was rather difficult to keep one's balance. They finally stopped in front of an empty cell.

“I'm glad those spooks in the Department of Mysteries came up with this spell; them dementors give me the creeps,” one auror said while the other opened the gate and roughly threw Harry in. As soon as Harry crossed the threshold, he felt the chill and saw the dark memories flashing through his mind that signaled the presence of a dementor. “Enjoy your stay,” the auror said, laughing maliciously as they locked the gate.

Harry pulled himself onto his cot and wrapped a small blanket, barely large enough to cover his shoulders around himself and curled into a ball. You're innocent, Harry thought to himself. You're innocent and Hermione's going to prove it. Just hold on, and she'll get you out. Just hold on. That thought, not being a good memory, stuck in his mind, and the pain receded somewhat. Just hold onto that thought, Harry. You'll get out someday. Never forget that you're innocent.

Never forget.

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Whew, I haven't written a chapter that long in a while. I hope you enjoyed it.

Don't forget to read and review!

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3. Release the Guilty Innocent

Wow, people seem to be taking a great liking to this story; I'm glad that the second installment got over twenty chapters as well. I hope this one will meet the same goal.

I don't own Harry Potter. `Nuff said.

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Chapter 2 - Release the Guilty Innocent

The small dinghy rocked along the waves as its puny propulsion charm pushed it towards the towering fortress of Azkaban, the pale moonlight giving an ethereal aura. At the front of the boat, a thirty-year-old woman dressed in blue robes gazed upon the imposing structure with a saddened expression.

“Hey boss, are you okay up there?” a younger man manning the tiller asked. “I mean, this place is givin' me the willies, and I'm as far away from it as I can in this bath toy; I can't imagine what it's like with a front-row seat.” The woman shook her head.

“No, I'm not okay,” she said softly, almost being drowned out by the waves. “Nearly thirteen years he's waited. Thirteen years he's rotted in that Hell. I can only imagine how much he's changed.” As she spoke, she rubbed her left arm tenderly, her hand concealed by a glove.

“Hey,” the second man in the boat said, laying a hand on her shoulder. “If he's as strong as he was back then, he'll be fine.” The woman nodded and patted the man's hand.

“Thanks Neville, but I can't help but worry.” The woman sighed tiredly. “I know he's changed; we all have. But I wonder how much.” The woman was broken out of her thoughts by the sound of the boat scraping along the gravel beach of Azkaban Island, and the three climbed out of the boat, the two men dragging it onto the beach so it wouldn't drift away. Smoothing out their robes, they walked through the front gates of Azkaban fortress.

The warden at Azkaban was bored out of his mind. Since all of the prison's residents were maximum-security, no one was allowed to visit the prisoners except aurors, and even they rarely bothered. So when he saw the signal that visitors had arrived, he immediately perked up. The door swung open to reveal a woman and two men, all dressed in auror robes.

“What can I do for you fine officers today?” the warden asked cheerfully. Her face a stone mask, the woman pulled out a piece of parchment and laid it down in front of him.

“Ward one-one-seven-six? Potter?” the warden asked incredulously. He held the paper up to the light to check for forgery. It seemed authentic, so he opened a drawer and pulled out a small golden key. “Now, if you'll just follow me, I'll…” he trailed off, his joints stiffening as he moved, until he remained frozen in place, only his eyes free from the hex.

“I'll take those,” the woman said, prying the key from the warden's stiff fingers and the emergency escape portkey from around his neck. “Don't worry, you won't remember a thing. Obliviate, stupefy,” she chanted, the two spells impacting the warden, his memory wiped and now unconscious, but still standing form. Satisfied, she turned to the two men standing behind her. “Go silent; take out the guards quickly and quietly. Do not use deadly force unless they do first, now move out,” she barked, casting a disillusionment charm over herself, rendering her invisible. The two men casting the same charm on themselves, they quietly opened the door and snuck out of the office.

The strike team snuck through the prison, quietly stunning the guards and moving them where they wouldn't be seen. After stealing another portkey and adjusting their destination, they reached cell number 1176, the home of Harry Potter for more than a decade. She watched with a broken heart as Harry twitched and muttered in his sleep. She carefully slid the key into the hole and opened the gate before canceling the disillusionment, shuddering at the cold feeling she felt.

“Keep watch,” she ordered before she got on her knees and gently shook Harry awake.

“Huh, whozzere?” Harry muttered groggily. He looked at the strange woman kneeling next to him, and he squinted his eyes tightly, trying to focus his vision. Finally, a look of comprehension and relief spread across his face. “Hermione? Is that you?” he gasped, tears of joy welling up in his eyes.

“Yes, Harry, it's me,” Hermione whispered before she looped the portkey around his head along with hers. “We've got to go. Neville, Charles, get ready to bail. One, two, three!” she counted before activating the portkey, whisking them away to safety.

When the reinforcements showed up several hours later, they unpetrified the warden and revived him.

“Ohh…what happened?” he groaned, rubbing his sore head. The aurors looked at each other.

“We were hoping you could tell us, sir,” one auror asked. The warden looked at them confusedly.

“I recall sitting at my desk, trying to stay awake, then the alarm alerting me to a visitor. After that…nothing.”

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The four escapees tumbled along the floor after their portkey journey, and Harry looked around confusedly.

“Where are we?” he asked. Hermione dug into her pocket and pulled out a metal tin, before opening it and pressing her fingers into it.

“Open your eyes really wide, Harry,” she said, and Harry obediently complied. She held her fingers up to his eyes, and he saw something stuck to them before she gently touched his eyes, and he resisted the urge to blink until she had pulled away. Suddenly, his snapped his eyes closed as he felt whatever she had put on his eyes slither around his eyes and reshape them. It wasn't exactly painful, but momentarily felt like he had a head cold. Within a few seconds, it was gone, and he could see clearly again. He looked around and gasped in amazement as to his surroundings.

He was currently standing in the Gryffindor Common Room, in his red and golden glory. He looked ahead of him and saw Hermione for the first time in almost thirteen years, and gasped. In all those years, she had grown into a beautiful woman. Her hair had straightened out and fell to just past her shoulders, and although her robes hid her figure well, he could barely make out some curves on her body.

“Hermione,” he gasped, pulling her into a hug. “How long has it been?” he asked, tears falling from his eyes.

“Almost thirteen years,” Hermione answered, tears beginning to fall from her own eyes. “I've missed you, Harry.”

“I've missed you too,” he replied, looking at her one more time before turning to the two men. “Neville!” he cried, pulling the taller man into a hug. “Merlin, you've gotten big! Have you been working out?” Neville just chuckled and shrugged sheepishly. He turned to the smaller man with a look of confusion. “I'm sorry, but I don't recognize you.”

“I'm Chris Sanders,” the younger man said, holding out his hand, which Harry shook. “You wouldn't know me; I was a Hufflepuff firstie during…the incident,” he said carefully.

“Come on, Harry, we need to get some food in your belly,” Hermione said, gently pulling Harry by the hand. Waving good-bye, he followed Hermione on the well-memorized path to the kitchens. Hermione tickled the pear to open the painting to the kitchen, and walked into the bustling kitchen.

“How can Squeezy help you, Mistress Granger?” a female house elf asked politely.

“Could you bring a bowl of broth for my friend, and a sandwich for me, please,” Hermione said. Bowing, Squeezy popped away, only to reappear a few seconds later with two trays, one with a steaming bowl of broth and the other with a peanut butter sandwich. After conjuring a small table and two stools, Squeezy bowed again and returned to her duties.

“Where's Dobby?” Harry asked, sipping his broth. “He's usually all over the place whenever I'm around.” He chuckled to himself, but stopped when remembered that Dobby had died a long time ago. “Oh,” Harry said somberly. They spent the remainder of their meal in silence. While she slowly walked him to his bedroom, Harry broke the silence again. “Why did that elf call you `mistress?'” he asked curiously. “After all the fuss you made with S.P.E.W., I can't see you taking one.” Hermione sighed softly.

“Remember back in fifth year, when Professor McGonnagal was hit with all those stunners?” Harry nodded silently. “Well, the spell trauma had damaged her heart, and she passed away a few years ago.” Harry could see tears beginning to well up in her eyes. “Before she died, she transferred control of Hogwarts to me, so I'm technically the Headmistress now.” Harry was silent as he digested this information.

“And the others?” Harry asked hesitantly. Hermione sighed, wiping her eyes before she began talking again.

“With the exception of Ronald and Ginevra, all the Weasleys are on our side, surpisingly,” she said. “George is our head inventor. Bill specializes in breaking wards and curses. Charlie, Arthur and Percy pull their weight, but there's only so much they can do. As for Molly...” Hermione trailed off, as if debating whether she should continue. “The trial really tore her up. You know how she gobbled up the Daily Prophet's lies back during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, so she half-believed that you really assassinated Kingsley. But another part of her couldn't believe that you would ever do that, and she sank further into depression. She died from stress-induced heart failure about a year and a half after the trial.” Harry closed his eyes at the news.

“How many people have died because of me?” Harry asked, mostly to himself.

“Only ten,” Hermione said. “It's not nearly the losses we suffered during the war with Voldemort, but it's still...” Hermione trailed off.

“...Ten too many,” Harry finished sadly. They finally stopped a door, and Hermione opened it to see an empty bedroom, bare of any personal trinkets.

“Most of us bunk together with others, but I figured that you'd like to be alone,” Hermione explained.

“Actually, Hermione,” Harry said as she began to walk out, “if you don't mind, I'd like it if you stayed.” Hermione bit her lip nervously.

“Are you sure?” she asked. Harry nodded, and she sighed.

“Okay, I'll just get changed. I'll be back in a few minutes. The shower's over there, and clothes are in the dresser,” Hermione said before closing the door. Harry pulled out a gray shirt and sweat pants as well as a pair of boxer shorts before pulling off his prison rags and taking a hot, soothing shower. When he came out, he saw Hermione standing in a white bathrobe, her arms crossed tightly.

“Hermione, are you okay?” Harry asked. Hermione sighed and looked at him.

“Harry, will you promise that whatever you see, you won't think any less of me?” she asked firmly.

“What? No! Of course not!” Harry exclaimed. Slightly calmed by his reaction, she untied the belt of her robe and let it fall to the floor, revealing what was underneath to him. She wore gray sweat pants and a black tank top, showing off all of her womanly curves, but what attracted his attention was the shiny silver that covered her left arm, almost up to her elbow. He recognized it from when Voldemort replaced Wormtail's amputated hand during his fourth year. Slowly, he reached out and held her hand, his fingers running over the smooth, cold metal.

“When...?” Harry gasped.

“Several months ago,” Hermione said. “It doesn't really hurt, it just feels kind of cold, like sinking your arm in a bucket of ice water.” She pulled her arm away and climbed under the covers, Harry following suit. They laid on their sides, facing each other, but keeping a respectable distance away from each other.

“Thank you,” Harry said softly. “For everything.”

“You're welcome, Harry,” Hermione said. Together, the two drifted off into sleep.

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“Madame Umbridge! Madame Umbridge!” a Ministry flunky yelled, bursting into a meeting between Delores Umbridge and several of her underlings.

“This had better be good,” the toad-like woman snarled.

“Potter's escaped!” the flunky gasped breathlessly. “An unknown number of assailants broke into Azkaban prison approximately three hours ago and took Potter with them!” Those present gasped collectively, and two redheads were suddenly feeling very nervous.

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I hope you enjoyed this one.

Don't forget to read and review!

Edited September 4, 2007 for continuity errors.

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4. Superman for a Day

Things are going to go slightly different than what I originally planned in this fic. But there'll be a logical explanation for it, I promise!

I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, then my stories would be on the shelves of your local bookstore, not on here.

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Chapter 3 - Superman for a Day

When Ginny Weasley woke up in the morning, she followed a routine: eat breakfast alone, take a shower, brush her teeth, brush her hair and then go out to attend to the day's business. Even though she would never admit it, she was lonely, but her pride and her vanity would not allow her to eat with another in her presence, the reason being four long scars running down her pale left cheek.

She remembered how almost a year ago, she and a few of her assistants caught a group of people trying to steal something from her archives. She managed to hit one of them with a cutting charm, but they all survived, and it turned out that they had stolen the blueprints to Azkaban. About a month later, while she was standing in front of the vacant lot where her brothers' shop once stood, she heard a noise behind her. When she turned around, she felt pain shoot through her face as something swiped at her, but it disappeared before she could see what it was. The healers had told her that there was some sort of potion in her wounds that, while it did not debilitate her, prevented the use of any healing spells or potions, so it would have to heal naturally, leading to the scars that disfigured her otherwise perfect face.

Sighing in resignation, Ginny donned a pale white full-face mask that covered her features before walking out of her quarters to face the rest of the world.

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Hermione moaned groggily as she stirred from her sleep. But when she tried to move, she felt something constrict around her. She also felt something blowing on her neck, tickling her slightly. She opened her eyes to find herself lying next to Harry, her back pressed to his chest and his arm wrapped around her waist. Carefully pulling herself out of his hold so that he wouldn't wake, she wrote down a note and slid it into his hand. Then she put on her robe and cast a disillusionment charm on herself and took the various shortcuts back to her quarters in the Headmaster's office. Locking the doors tightly, she grabbed some fresh clothes and climbed into a hot shower.

“How the hell did that happen?” Hermione asked herself as she relaxed under the hot water. “I know that people move in their sleep, but how did we get from sleeping on opposite sides of the bed to spooning each other?!” She looked down to see the steam condensing on the smooth metallic surface of her prosthetic arm and sighed. “It was just an isolated incident, Granger, stop fretting about it.” But in spite of those words, in her mind, she asked herself, why was it affecting her so much to begin with?

When Harry stirred awake, he instinctively reached over to hold Hermione, but instead felt a piece of parchment in his hand. He unfolded it and held it close, sleep still blurring his vision.

Harry,

Went back to my office to change. I'll be back soon.

Hermione

A crack caught his attention, and he looked up to see a house elf conjure a table to lay a tray with a bowl of broth, a couple pieces of bread, a glass of water and a vial of potion on. Bowing, the house elf cracked away without a word, and Harry began to eat his simple meal, gulping down the potion with a grimace.

After he had finished his meal, he went into his closet and found some clothes and wizard robes, and after donning them, opened his door to see Hermione standing there, her hand raised to knock on the door.

“Oh, you're ready,” she said awkwardly. “Umm, come on then, we need to get you a new wand,” she continued, moving aside so Harry could step out. They walked to a cabinet with sky-blue doors and large enough for a grown person to stand in sitting to one side of the hallway. Hermione turned a colored knob on the side until it showed emerald green. She turned around to see Harry's confused face. “We figured out how to make more Vanishing Cabinets, as well as how to program them to go to different destinations, so we color coded the cabinets for various areas,” she explained. She opened the doors and beckoned Harry to step inside. When they both walked in, the doors closed, and Harry briefly felt a feeling of vertigo before the doors opened to find themselves in a different hallway. When they stepped out, the doors closed to show that they were indeed an emerald green color.

“So, how many of those things are there?” Harry asked as they wandered down the unfamiliar corridor.

“I think we have about fifteen different colors, each corresponding for things like the Great Hall, the dungeons, the Astronomy Tower, et cetera,” Hermione answered, “and an average of three cabinets per area for maximum efficiency.” The stopped in front of a door and Hermione knocked on it. It swung open silently to show an impossibly large room covered wall-to-wall with wand boxes, as well as various supplies. Near the front was the elderly wand maker Ollivander, as well as a small, scruffy man.

“Ah, Mister Potter,” Ollivander said, giving him that stare that made Harry felt like he was being scanned again. “You've come to see me for yet another wand? I'm getting quite a bit of business from you. Well, like they say, the third time's the charm. Hopefully, you'll quit breaking my products.” Ollivander's face fell as he went on. “Unfortunately, due to the rather large inventory of mine and my...associate,” he continued, a look of bitterness on his face when he said the word “associate”, “you will unfortunately have to find it yourself. But just look for that feeling that you felt when you got your other wands.”

Gulping at the rather intimidating selection of wands, Harry held his hand up and slowly walked past the wands. After a few minutes of searching, he felt a pull towards one certain one, and pulled it out. He opened it to see a black wand, elegantly carved.

“Ahh,” a scratchy voice next to Harry said. He turned to see the second wand maker standing at around shoulder height to him. “You've chosen one of mine. Twelve inches, ash wood and a dual core of unicorn hair wrapped around the wing bone of a thestral. Quite an interesting combination.” His piece said, the old man hobbled back to his workstation to continue constructing new wands. Wordlessly, Harry and Hermione stepped out and began wandering the castle again.

“Hermione, what happened while I was gone?” Harry asked as they wandered aimlessly. Hermione sighed dejectedly and began talking.

“After your conviction, the government began becoming anti-Muggleborn again. But it was slower than last time, a bit subtler. First it began with a few layoffs within the Ministry, but it turned out that all those sacked were Muggleborns. Then Muggleborns started paying higher taxes for goods, then laws preventing them from taking positions in government, and it just snowballed from there. Now, being a Muggleborn in this society is no better than being a werewolf or other non-human being, and we both know how rough Remus had it.” Hermione took another dejected sigh before continuing. “The Ministry tried to impose attendance laws on Hogwarts like when Voldemort controlled the Ministry, but Professor McGonnagal would have none of it. We ultimately had to cast a Fidelius charm to protect the school from invaders. Now we keep a close eye on the book that writes down the names of those who will attend school, and we send emissaries to the Muggleborns. We try to teach them privately and keep them out of government hands, but it's difficult: we're running out of tutors, and the castle was getting overcrowded, so we had several safe houses built so that they could remain as protected as possible.” Harry closed his eyes and processed this new information.

“Why did it take you so long to get me out?” Harry asked. Hermione looked down at the ground ashamed.

“We tried for years to appeal your trial, looking up every obscure law we could, but the Wizengamot stonewalled us at every corner. Then we decided to break you out, but we had no idea how to do it. We had to steal various plans and blueprints for Azkaban, we had to know about prisoner protocol, we had to get authentic outfits for the masquerade. As ashamed as I am to say it, it took a lot of time to do all of that.” Harry stopped as they passed a window to see that it was raining outside, a perfect reflection to how he was feeling.

“How's Teddy? Is he alright?” he asked, trying to escape from this depressing conversation. Hermione seemed to brighten up slightly at his query.

“Yes, he's growing up to a fine young man,” Hermione said proudly. “He studies hard, and is quite devoted to those he cares about.”

“Can I see him?” Harry asked excitedly. Hermione shook her head gently.

“Later, Harry. He's in lessons right now, and it would probably be best if we didn't interrupt. How about we go down to the Room of Requirement and test out your new wand?” she offered. Harry nodded his consent, and they found another Vanishing Cabinet. She turned the knob until it showed orange, and they stepped inside to find themselves standing right in front of the Room of Requirements. Hermione opened the door to show a room built rather like a Muggle firing range, with people standing in individual stalls firing at targets at the far end of the room. There was also a thin man with thick square glasses jotting figures down on a clipboard. Harry walked to an empty stall and looked at the other people perform. They were firing spells to knock down bulls-eye targets, only for them to stand up a few seconds later. Taking aim, Harry decided to cast a stunning hex.

“Stupefy!” Harry shouted. Instead of the normal small red bolt of energy, a large shockwave shot out of his wand, knocking down the two targets in the stalls to either side of his and blasting the target he was aiming for off of its stand, sending it crashing into the far wall. The occupants stood in silent shock at Harry's astounding display of power, including Harry himself. “What the hell just happened?” he managed to gasp out.

“I think I can answer that,” the geeky man with the clipboard said. “Although I'd like it if this were a private conversation.” Nodding, Hermione turned to the other occupants who were listening in curiously.

“Okay, guys, give us some privacy,” she said, shooing them away. Groaning in disappointment, the others milled out of the room until it was empty except for Harry, Hermione and the geek.

“Firstly, my name is Archie Petri,” the geek said, shaking Harry's hand. “Secondly, have you used any magic at all while in prison?” The Room of Requirement automatically conjured three chairs for its occupants to sit in, and Harry sat down, shaking his head.

“I tried Occlumency, but it didn't work; it's like they blocked my magic somehow,” he answered honestly. Archie nodded, as if he was expecting such an answer.

“I thought they might. Okay, every witch and wizard has a magical core, which all spells draw their energy from, like a battery,” Archie began to explain. “Now, to compensate for the loss due to spell casting, a person's magical core automatically recharges itself at a fixed rate. But the thing is, is that a core never stops charging, ever, and a pre-school-aged child's core is unstable, so there's really nothing to contain that excess energy, so it spills out. That's what a child's accidental magic is, overflow. By the time a child receives their first letter to Hogwarts or wherever, their core has begun to stabilize, or `harden,' to say otherwise, so that it can better contain that excess energy. By the time a person has reached the age of majority, it has stabilized completely, so nothing gets out unless you let it out.

“Now, for a normal wizard, buildup is no real issue, because you're always expending energy for everyday tasks. But in your case, you've basically been spending the past thirteen years building up power, that it's basically become pressurized. You know how you shake a bottle of pop, you crack the seal and shit flies everywhere? That's basically what's happening with you: you have so much energy jammed into so small a package that every time you `break the seal' so to speak by casting a spell, that energy just flies out in an attempt to relieve that pressure as quickly as possible. I'd reckon you could play Superman for two weeks to a month, if you're conservative. Or you could walk into the Ministry of Magic, let it all loose at once, and cause the wizarding world's version of Hiroshima, but you're choice.” Harry blinked dumbly as he tried to make sense of that explanation.

“So why did none of the Death Eaters have superpowers, if they've been in prison just as long as I have?” Harry asked. Archie shrugged.

“Seeing as how magic is also the reason why we heal so quickly, and considering how often Voldemort used the Cruciatus on his subjects, I wouldn't be too surprised if they used up their excess power healing themselves after torture sessions,” he said.

“What about Sirius?” Harry asked. “He was in around the same time I was.” Hermione shook her head.

“Sirius said that he used his powers as an Animagus to keep himself sane. The transformation requires power, and he probably did it often, so he wouldn't have had that much excess power when he escaped,” she explained. Harry rubbed his neck tiredly.

“So basically, until I spend all this extra power, I'm basically a walking bomb?” he asked, figuring he already knew the answer.

“No, you won't explode,” Archie said, surprising Harry. “You do have the potential power to cause as much devastation as a bomb, but you won't spontaneously explode, if that's what you're asking. At least, I think you won't.” Harry sighed and cradled his head in his hands.

“Why is nothing in my life ever simple?” he groaned rhetorically.

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I think this is the first fic where Harry gets super-powered WITHOUT being an heir to a dozen families or going through a strange ritual.

Don't forget to read and review!

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5. Taking Out the Trash

I recently rented Chromehounds from Blockbuster. It's the most fun on my X-Box 360 in a while. You can only play Gears of War for so long before it gets boring.

I don't own Harry Potter. Why do I have to keep telling you that?

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Chapter 4 - Taking Out the Trash

Ever since Harry had arrived at Hogwarts, he and Hermione had fallen into a routine. They would sleep on opposite sides of the bed, only to wake up in each other's arms (to his eternal embarrassment, he had woken up aroused a few times as well), then they would eat breakfast before physical training. After hours of training, they would have lunch before they went to Archie to help Harry with his power problem. However, despite his best efforts, Harry continued to discharge more power than was necessary, so they quickly abandoned that effort, instead talking about the various strengths and weaknesses of the Ministry of Magic headquarters. Then they would eat dinner and talk for a while before falling asleep and repeating the process.

Much to Harry's surprise, Hermione began teaching him how to shoot a gun to conserve his magic.

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FLASHBACK

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“You're sure about this?” Harry asked as Hermione opened a small vinyl bag and pulled out a black pistol along with several magazines of ammunition.

“I'm sure, Harry,” Hermione said as she threw the empty bag onto a table that the Room of Requirement conjured. “We both know that by the time you control your magic to the level it need to not be wasteful, you'll probably run out, so we need an alternative.” She held up the empty weapon and entered her lecture phase. “This is a Colt forty-five caliber; I can't remember the model number right now. This weapon is similar to the standard issue weapons given to American police, and can pack quite a kick.

“Some safety rules: firstly, unless someone gives you the gun in a sack full of pieces, never assume that it's empty. Whenever someone gives you the gun, check to make sure you can see light through the slide, see?” she asked, pointing to the hole made by the locked-back slide. Harry looked through the opening to see that it was clear and nodded. “After that, stick your finger in there to check if there's a bullet in the barrel.” She demonstrated by sticking her pinky finger into the slide for a moment before extracting it.

“Secondly, unless it is physically impossible, never point a gun at anything except what you intend to shoot, because unlike a wand, guns can discharge on their own if you're not careful. If you can't do that, then aim it at the least important target in the area.

“Thirdly, never put your finger on the trigger if you don't intend to fire. Got all that?” Harry nodded, but Hermione refused to hand him the weapon. “Repeat what I said then,” she demanded.

“Always assume a gun is loaded, only point it at your target and never put your finger on the trigger unless you intend to shoot,” Harry recited. Nodding in satisfaction, Hermione handed Harry the gun. After he checked it to make sure it was unloaded, she continued.

“Okay, firing,” she began, handing Harry a magazine. “Slide this into the bottom of the grip, like so,” she said, demonstrating with her hands. Nodding, Harry slid the magazine into the gun with a click. “Now, push that tab there,” she continued, pointing to a small tab on the side of the gun. Harry complied, and the slide snapped back into place with a loud click. “Okay, right now the gun is in an unsafe position; notice how the hammer is cocked back?” she asked, pointing to the relevant part. “To make it semi-safe, push down on that tab right there.” Harry pushed the tab down, and the hammer slid back into a closed position. “See that switch there by your thumb? Flip that. Your weapon is now ready to be fired.” The Room of Requirement conjured two pairs of earmuffs, and Hermione placed one on Harry's head before donning her own. It also conjured a mannequin for a target.

“Okay, to aim you take those two little yellow dots on the sides of the gun and line them up so they're level with the little yellow dot in the middle,” Hermione yelled so that Harry could hear her through the earmuffs. “Are they lined up? Okay, cock the hammer back and pull the trigger softly until it resists.” While Hermione stepped back, Harry cocked the hammer and pulled the trigger back. “Okay, slowly pull it the rest of the way back.” Harry slowly pulled the trigger back. Slowly...slowly...

BANG!

The gun fired, and the bullet struck the mannequin on its right side, near the navel.

“Not bad for a first try,” Hermione yelled. “Just keep practicing; I enchanted those magazines to never run out of bullets.” Hermione watched while Harry fired a few more bullets, striking the mannequin in various places before ejecting the magazine and setting it down.

“How did you learn to fire a gun anyway?” Harry asked as they took off their earmuffs. “It doesn't seem like something that you would be into.” Hermione snorted at his words.

“It's not. My father taught me when I was thirteen `just in case,'” she said, quoting her last words with her fingers.

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END FLASHBACK

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Harry was interrupted from his thoughts by a knocking on the door. He opened it to show a winded thirteen-year-old Ted Lupin.

“Aunt Hermione sent me to tell you that there's a meeting in the Ravenclaw tower in five minutes,” the brown-haired teenager panted. “Go, I just need to catch my breath for a minute,” he gasped, seeing Harry's concerned look, and the older man rushed by him to the nearest Vanishing Cabinet.

“Okay, Ravenclaw Tower, that's...dark blue,” Harry muttered, twisting the knob on the side until it showed the appropriate color and climbed into the cabinet. When the doors opened, Harry jumped out and dashed towards the tower, and rushed into the meeting room with mere seconds to spare. “Sorry I'm late,” Harry panted as he sat down in the nearest chair.

“Not at all,” Hermione said. She waved her wand and the torches in the room dimmed. She tapped a stone in her hand with her wand, and a crystal embedded into the table they were all sitting at projected a three-dimensional blueprint of the Ministry of Magic.

“Now that we've broken Mister Potter out of Azkaban, we can work on damaging the Ministry itself,” Hermione spoke in a professional tone. She tapped the stone, and the projection changed to show a diagram of the Ministry hierarchy; Harry noticed that most of them was those who sent him to prison. “We don't have enough information to annihilate them in one go, so we'll have to deal with them out slowly and quietly. We'll spirit them away, extract information from them, obliviate them and return them; if we have too many `accidental' deaths, Umbridge will become suspicious. The exceptions, besides Umbridge herself, are these three.” She tapped the stone, and three portraits were highlighted and enlarged. “Anyone who was in Hogwarts between 1991 and 1996 will probably know why these three are of particular interest to us.” Another tap of the stone, and two of the portraits receded, leaving only the scruffy-looking brunette. “Seamus Finnegan is currently head of Sewage Treatment—” everybody in the room chuckled, and Harry grinned at the appropriate position for the traitor. “...Which is the lowest head position, and therefor the easiest to capture. In addition, as a half-blood in a hierarchy full of purebloods, I'm sure that if he were to...disappear, he would not be missed. Your duties are in your folders; we leave at 1420 hours. You're dismissed.” As the other members of the mission milled out, Hermione walked up to Harry.

“What did you think?” she asked him.

“You're a great commander,” Harry said honestly. “So, Finnegan eh?” he continued, raising an eyebrow. Hermione simply shrugged in response.

“You know, we have space for one more...” she began, trailing off.

“Where are we meeting?” Harry asked immediately. Hermione grinned and told him to meet at the Great Hall at 2:20 before handing him a folder and leaving to prepare.

“You might want to put on some glamour charms as well,” she added as she left.

At 2:18, a now blonde-haired Harry arrived at the Great Hall where Hermione and three other men stood.

“Here,” Hermione said, giving him a black watch. “It doubles as a communications device; just bring your wrist to your mouth like this,” she continued, demonstrating. She also gave him an ear bud that looked like it came from a music player. “This allows you to hear other communications. Your watch also activates as a portkey, which will take us to our destination right about...now.” As she spoke, Harry felt the familiar tug of a portkey transport them to a dark side-alley. “Tap the face with your wands to reactivate them. You three, go into there and order something,” Hermione ordered to Harry and two other men, pointing to the small restaurant they were hiding behind. “You, go up there until your mark,” she ordered a man that dressed and smelled like a drunk homeless man. “You have ten minutes to take your positions, move out.” Harry and his two teammates walked into the restaurant and ordered separate tables, neither too close or too far from each other, but all facing the door.

“Drunken Monkey is in position,” a voice rang into Harry's ear.

“Silver Hand is in position,” Hermione's voice responded.

“Average Joe in position,” another voice said.

“Average Mike in position,” the fourth voice said. Harry propped his hands up and leaned to his wrist, but realized that he didn't have a codename. Shaking his head, he whispered, “Snake Charmer is in position.”

“Confirmed, Snake Charmer, target should arrive in approximately six minutes,” Hermione responded. Harry ordered a bowl of soup and a cup of tea and slowly drank while he sat and waited, staring at the door. Eventually, Seamus walked in and sat down at a table.

“Dirty Scotsman has entered target zone; Drunken Monkey, execute plan,” Hermione ordered. Two minutes later, the “drunken” agent came stumbling into the restaurant, singing loudly. He laughed giddily and slurred incoherently as he harassed several patrons before collapsing on Finnegan, giggling. In his disgust, Finnegan failed to notice the agent slip a sickle into his pocket.

“You're very pretty,” the agent said, giggling. Recognizing the code phrase that the operation was successful, Harry and the other two agents got up from their seats and grabbed the drunken agent and forcibly threw him out of the restaurant before returning to their meals.

“Tee-minus two minutes,” the drunk groaned into his watch. “Merlin, did you have to throw me so hard?” he groaned as he dragged himself out of sight.

“Sorry, Jim, but it had to look convincing,” the voice of “Average Mike” said apologetically. They watched anxiously as Finnegan continued eating, unaware of what was going to happen to him. As he was about to take a sip of his tea, he disappeared as the portkey in his pocket activated, scaring some of the other restaurant patrons. Throwing down the money to pay for their meals, Harry and the two agents walked out and gathered back to the alley where they appeared and reactivated their portkeys to take them back to Hogwarts. As Hermione made to leave, Harry placed a hand on her shoulder.

“When you're done with him, I want a crack at him,” Harry said softly.

“Will do,” Hermione said, patting his hand. “You did well back there, I'm proud of you,” she said honestly as she walked to the dungeons to interrogate Finnegan.

Several long hours of interrogation later, Hermione stepped out of the interrogation room was with a green crystal in her hands to see Harry standing there, his hands behind his back, under his robe.

“How long have you been standing there?” she asked as she closed the door.

“A few minutes,” Harry said. “My turn?” Hermione nodded and stepped aside so he could open the door and walk in. Inside was a bare room: no carpet, no furniture, just four stone walls, a ceiling and a floor. He also saw Finnegan fidgeting nervously in the far end of the room. “It's been a while, Seamus,” Harry said calmly.

“Harry! It's good to see you, mate!” Seamus exclaimed, failing to keep the nervousness out of his voice. “What are you doing here?” Harry shrugged as he stepped closer, his hands still behind his back.

“Prison was a bitch, so I got out,” Harry said conversationally as he stopped about ten meters away from Finnegan. “I've got something to ask you now,” he continued, pulling a gun from behind him. “Why did you betray me?” Harry asked coldly.

“Whoa, Harry, think about this,” Finnegan said, panicking. Harry laughed icily at the terrified man.

“`Think about this?' I've spent thirteen years in hell doing little else than what I'm going to do with you and the others one I get my hands on them. I'll ask you one more time, why did you betray me? You have until three to answer. One,” Harry counted, flicking the safety off on the gun. “Two,” he continued, cocking the hammer. “Thr—” he started, but was interrupted by Finnegan's panicked scream.

“Okay, okay, I'll tell you!” he screamed. “I don't know why Ron or Ginny turned against you, but I did it because, well, I guess deep inside, I still thought you were crazy, and with You-Know-Who gone, you'd be the next Dark Lord. It's stupid, I know, but it's the truth.” Harry eyed him carefully before lowering his gun, shaking his head.

“Finnegan, that has got to be the stupidest thing I have ever heard in my life,” Harry spat. “You know, when I stepped in here, I couldn't decide whether I should shoot you or not, but now I've come to a decision.” Without warning, Harry quickly raised the gun back up and pulled the trigger.

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Ooh, Harry's pissed.

The safety and firing rules demonstrated at the beginning are from my first (and so far, only) experience firing a gun. However, should you decide to try it for yourself, be sure to hear the rules from a PROFESSIONAL first!

Don't forget to read and review!

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6. Exchanging Words

I got a sense of giddiness when I saw my readers squirm over the cliffhanger in the last chapter. Does that make me a bad person?

There isn't much in the way of action in this chapter; it's mostly talk.

I don't own Harry Potter, blah, blah, blah.

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Chapter 5 - Exchanging Words

Finnegan screamed in pain as he clutched his shoulder, blood oozing out of the wound that the bullet had caused. He looked up in shock at Harry, who was flipping the safety back on.

“You shot me! You fucking shot me!” Finnegan shouted in outrage. Harry narrowed his eyes in anger as he lowered his pistol to his side.

“And considering what you did to me, I'm entitled for much, much more,” he said darkly as he holstered the weapon. “Consider yourself lucky that I shot your shoulder and not your head.” Harry looked at Finnegan's hand, which was now stained red and began to drip blood onto the floor. “The healer should be here in a few minutes, so hold tight,” he said as he left the room. Even though Harry was just guessing, a healer did appear in Finnegan's room less than two minutes later, and managed to heal the wound before Finnegan passed out from blood loss.

Finding the closest Vanishing Cabinet, Harry turned the color dial until it led near the Headmaster's office, and stepped inside. Seconds later, Harry found himself knocking on Hermione's door.

“Come in,” Hermione said through the door. Harry opened the door to see Hermione flipping through several files. “How did your talk with Finnegan go?” Hermione asked, not looking up. Harry shrugged as he sat down in front of her desk.

“Didn't get a whole lot,” Hermione said dejectedly. “Like I said, he was basically bottom of the totem pole, so he doesn't really interact with the other department heads that much. That said, we have figured out one thing that we can use to our advantage. Apparently, Theodore Nott is fond of a particular brothel in Knockturn Alley,” she continued, wrinkling her nose.

“Great!” Harry said, rubbing his hands together in mock enthusiasm. “When do we go?” Hermione rolled her eyes at him before replying.

“You aren't going anywhere,” she said. “It wouldn't do to corrupt your innocence like that,” she continued, patting him on the cheek. Unable to think of a comeback to that remark, he simply stuck his tongue out childishly. A voice coughed behind them, and Harry turned around to see the portrait of Albus Dumbledore. Hermione sighed and rubbed her forehead. “I forgot to tell you, Dumbledore wants to speak to you alone. I'll see you later,” she said as she walked out of the office, leaving Harry alone in the room. For several seconds, only an awkward silence permeated the room.

“How are you, Harry?” Dumbledore finally asked in a grandfatherly tone. Harry narrowed his eyes slightly at the subtle tone his former headmaster spoke with, and his features hardened.

“I've been better,” Harry said flatly.

“I've heard on the magical grapevine that you injured your former classmate Seamus Finnegan, am I right?” Dumbledore asked, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

“So?” Harry asked, shrugging. “It's just a flesh wound.” Dumbledore sighed tiredly as he wrung his hands together.

“Harry, whatever he has done, he was your friend, and you must learn to forgive him. You must also forgive Mister and Miss Weasley as well, for they are your friends as well,” Dumbledore said sagely. Much to his surprise, Harry laughed at him.

“`Forgive them?'” Harry asked incredulously. “You're actually asking me to forgive them? Tell me, Dumbledore, have you ever spent a day in Azkaban? And I don't mean just a quick visit; I mean a full twenty-four hours. Have you?” Dumbledore seemed to hesitate in his response before he slowly shook his head.

“No, I have not,” he said.

“Have you ever had your so-called `friends' stab you in the back, and make you spend half your life in hell for a crime you didn't even commit?” Dumbledore paused for a moment before shaking his head again. “Then don't talk to me about forgiveness. Despite what you may think, some things cannot be forgiven. Just be thankful that I shot Finnegan in the shoulder instead of the head, because I was seriously considering it.” Dumbledore seemed shocked when Harry admitted that he had considered killing Finnegan.

“Harry, why would you want to kill him?” the portrait asked. Harry exaggerated his movements as he pretended to think about the question.

“Oh, let's see, he only assisted in a massive Ministry-wide conspiracy to set me up for a lifetime imprisonment in Azkaban, thereby stealing about half of my current lifespan. You don't think that's reason enough?” Harry asked rhetorically. Dumbledore sighed tiredly. This conversation was not going the way he had hoped.

“What are you planning on doing next?” Dumbledore asked, silently fearing Harry's answer.

“I'm going to take down the Ministry, one piece at a time,” Harry said matter-of-factly.

“And once you topple the Ministry, who are you going to put in the seat of Minister? Yourself?” Dumbledore pressed.

“That's not a bad idea actually,” Harry said. “Thanks for that.”

“Harry, if you continue on this endeavor, you will only succeed in becoming that which you are trying so hard to destroy. How will that make you any better than them?” Dumbledore asked, hoping that Harry would see reason.

“It won't,” Harry replied. “But it is probably necessary. I've done a lot of thinking in Azkaban, and I realized that the people of this country are mindless sheep who will follow the loudest voice. So in order to restore order in the wizarding world, I will have to silence the voices that lead the population and lead them with my own. It sounds cruel, I know, but sometimes, in order to be a hero, you must also be a tyrant.”

“I don't suppose that I can make you see reason, can I?” Dumbledore asked sadly.

“Actually,” Harry said, “I think I'm being very reasonable. You're trying to turn me to the light, for me to fight nobly. I did fight nobly…in the last war. And in return, I was framed and incarcerated. Then I realized that nobility has no place in war. If you want to win, you must learn to be savage.” Tired of the conversation, Harry walked out of the office, closing the door with a slam. When he got to the bottom of the spiral staircase, he saw Hermione waiting for him.

“He gave you his `forgive and forget' speech?” Hermione asked, seeing his foul demeanor.

“Among other things,” Harry grumbled.

“He does that to me a lot too,” Hermione said, patting him on the shoulder. “It gets annoying really quickly.” Hermione looked at her watch, then back at Harry. “I've got to prepare the team for the next grab. You can go next time, I promise,” Hermione said reassuringly. “In the meantime, try talking to Archie; he's got some really interesting knowledge. I think he's in the Room of Requirement right now.” She kissed Harry on the cheek before walking away.

“No drinking, no bringing back strange men and be back by ten, young lady!” Harry yelled at Hermione. While he couldn't be completely sure, he thought he saw Hermione flip her middle finger at him right before she rounded the corner. It took a few seconds for Harry to register the kiss that Hermione had left him, and slowly raised his hand to his cheek. What was that about, he asked himself. Shaking his head, Harry headed to the nearest cabinet and transported himself to the seventh floor. When he reached the wall where the Room of Requirement was situated, Harry knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Archie said. Harry opened the door and saw the nerdy-looking former Unspeakable poring over notes. He looked up and saw Harry standing in the doorway. “Ah, Harry, so nice to see you! Come in and sit down.” As he spoke, an overstuffed velvet chair was conjured by the room, which Harry plopped down in. “So, what brings you here, stranger?”

“Hermione's going out on a mission and wouldn't let me go, so she said to talk to you to pass the time,” Harry said, shrugging.

“So, what would you like to know?” Archie asked as the office chair he was sitting in turned into an overstuffed chair as well.

“What kind of work did you do in the Department of Mysteries?” Harry asked. He had always wondered just what went on down there, and this was his chance to find out.

“I worked in the Sub-Department of Spell Creation, which was one of the more…politically unstable areas of the DoM,” Archie said.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked curiously.

“Spell Creation is separated into two divisions, Spell Conception and Spell Protection. Spell Conception is pretty obvious, just make up a spell and move on, but Spell Protection was essentially taking an already existing spell, study how it affected an individual - not its intended effect, but how it actually worked - and come up with a countermeasure for it. While Spell Conception was sort of ignored, in Spell Protection, a lot of our results were things that Muggles had discovered years ago, but we haven't yet, and probably wouldn't for a long time. Because of that, we often had to research Muggle science and medicine, which in a pureblood government, did not go over well. One of our primary tasks down there was to develop a counter spell to the Killing Curse.” This had piqued Harry's attention, as he was now leaning forward in interest.

“A counter spell?” Harry asked. “I know that you can block it with stones and such, but an actual counter spell?” Archie nodded, smiling proudly.

“While our research was cut short with the, you know, purging and all, we managed to figure out how the Killing Curse actually works. Tell me, do you know what an EMP is?” When Harry shook his head, Archie continued. “It stands for Electro-Magnetic Pulse. When a nuclear bomb is detonated, in addition to the massive explosion, it also sends out a shockwave that knocks out any electrical equipment within its range. Of course, such devices are annihilated soon after, but that's beside the point.

“Any organism with a heart and a nervous system is run by a series of electrical signals. After months of testing and hundreds of murdered lab rats, we discovered that a Killing Curse instantaneously stopped all of these signals, essentially `shorting out' the subject. We had then concluded that a Killing Curse is essentially a concentrated EM pulse, except instead of affecting a mechanical target, it has been tailored to affect a biological target.

“On a side note, while flipping through one of my medical texts, I found out that Muggle healers use electrical charges to revive patients whose hearts had stopped beating. This led me to theorize - and this is just a theory, mind you - that if you ran a moderate electrical current through a person who had just been hit by a Killing Curse, then it might be able to revive them. But since I don't know of any spell that can generate an electrical charge low enough, and I don't think there are many wizards running around with a defibrillator kit, it's kind of a moot point.” For hours, Harry and Archie talked about spells and how they worked, with Harry occasionally throwing in a suggestion as to how they might work.

When Harry finally exited the Room of Requirement, he walked straight into Hermione.

“I was about to check up on you!” Hermione laughed as they pulled themselves up off of the ground. “How was your talk with Archie?”

“Oh, it was great,” Harry said, dusting his pants off. “He had some really interesting things to say. How was the grab?” During their walk and all throughout dinner, Hermione talked about the stakeout, and how she had to constantly remind the others to watch for Nott and not at the dancers.

That night, Harry and Hermione got ready for bed. The past few weeks had made them complacent with each others' presence, and didn't think too much on the implications of them sleeping together should they ever be caught.

“So, who's the next victim going to be?” Harry asked as he climbed into bed. Hermione shrugged as she climbed into her side.

“We'll just have to see what the new day brings,” she said as she doused the lights. “`Night, Harry.”

“`Night,” Harry murmured as he drifted off into sleep.

----

Other than the fact that this is probably kind of boring compared to previous chapters, whatcha think?

Don't forget to read and review!

Edited October 15, 2007 for a chapter number error.

Edited February 6, 2008 for a plot error.

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7. Placing the Pieces

After over four months, I finally have an idea for this chapter. At long last.

I don't own Harry Potter.

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Chapter 6 - Placing the Pieces

Standing alone on the top of the Astronomy tower, Harry sighed heavily, his breath fogging in the cold March night air.

It had been several months since he was broken free from Azkaban, and they had made considerable progress. Hermione and the other rebels had successfully captured and interrogated seven additional Ministry officials, their knowledge of the once impregnable site growing larger every time. Unfortunately, information on the Ministry building was still not quite complete enough to stage a successful coup.

Harry had also changed in the past several months. With a combination of adequate nutrition and physical training, Harry's physique had changed from being malnourished nearly to the point of being emaciated to a man that was physically healthy, even though he still remained one of the thinnest men in Hogwarts. He continued to neglect his magic, instead opting to continue his training firing the pistol that Hermione had provided him. Several weeks previous, Hermione had also provided him with a silencer; Harry decided it was best not to inquire as to how she had obtained such a device.

“Knut for your thoughts?” a voice asked behind him. Harry turned around to see Hermione standing by the trap door, dressed in warm winter clothes. Harry shrugged and returned his gaze to the sky.

“Just admiring the stars,” he said. Hermione chuckled as she walked up to his side.

“I never figured you for a stargazer,” she said as she tipped her head back to look up at the night sky.

“It's more fun when you're not doing it for an Astronomy essay,” Harry clarified, shrugging, causing Hermione to laugh lightly. For several moments, they just stood together, enjoying the comfortable silence between them.

“So, what are you planning to do after this?” Hermione asked bluntly, causing Harry to look at her in surprise.

“Excuse me?” he asked, not quite understanding her.

“What are you planning to do, after all this is over?” Hermione asked, shifting her gaze to him. Harry expelled a breath loudly and turned to watch the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

“To be honest, I hadn't thought that far ahead,” he admitted. “But I suppose I could start by moving somewhere quiet.”

“Dumbledore said that you were planning on becoming the next Minister of Magic,” Hermione said, raising an eyebrow. Harry snorted with humor.

“I was angry, and just said that to piss him off,” Harry said. “To be honest, I don't want anything to do with the government.” They let his words linger in the air for a moment before he turned to her. “So what are you planning to do after this is over? Going to stay Headmistress, or going to be the next Minister of Magic?” he asked cheekily. Hermione laughed and shook her head.

“No, I'm not going to be the next Minister of Magic,” she said. “I mean, I'll stick around to make sure that things go as planned, but after that, I was thinking of spending a couple of years just traveling the world,” she continued, smiling softly to herself. “After that, I was thinking of maybe getting a degree in medicine and become a doctor, like I wanted to do before I went to Hogwarts.”

“You'd make a good doctor,” Harry said, wrapping an arm around Hermione's shoulders. Hermione chuckled mirthlessly as she looked down at her hands.

“I'd certainly feel a degree of empathy for amputees,” she said blandly, staring at the black glove concealing her silver prosthetic hand. “Come on,” she said, pulling herself from under Harry's arm and taking his hand, “let's get out of this cold before we freeze to death.” She pulled her friend into the warmth of the castle, and sat down in front of the fire that flickered brightly in “their” bedroom. They said nothing, the room silent except for the fire crackling, and they both fell asleep on the sofa.

------

“Okay people, all of our hard work is almost at fruition, just one more prisoner and we will have sufficient information to storm the Ministry and have the greatest chance of success,” Hermione said sternly as she waved her wand, the projection crystal displaying an image of a dark-skinned man along with scrolling text containing vital information. “Blaise Zabini,” Hermione said, identifying their next target, “head of Ministry security. He is in charge of patrol routes, shift rotations, security scanner locations, et cetera. Capturing him will be a major advantage to our cause, for the information that he carries will allow us to know exactly when the best time to infiltrate the Ministry of Magic will be, as well as the knowledge for us to disable, or at least dodge the scanners.

“It took a while, but we've eventually figured out a routine for Zabini,” Hermione continued, pointing to the folders in front of all people present. “It seems that on the third Friday to Sunday of every month, Zabini goes to a hotel to meet a mistress; the address is in your documents. It has also been observed that Zabini enjoys a cup of tea before their…activities. The plan is to bribe his mistress to drugging him for us for pickup, or if that falls through, to intercept her and send a Polyjuice agent in her place.” Harry looked up from his folder to see that the majority of the selected agents were female. “After we capture Zabini, we have at least 48 hours to pump him of any and all information we may require. You have your duties; we move out in one hour. Dismissed,” Hermione finished, and the assembled agents stood up and began to mill out of the room to prepare for their upcoming mission.

Several minutes past an hour later, and Harry - disguised as a nondescript Muggle - found himself ringing the doorbell of a flat in a rather desolate building. Several seconds later, the door opened slightly to show a blonde woman slightly taller than Harry.

“Can I help you?” the woman asked.

“Yes, you can,” Harry said in a serious tone. “I understand that you have an appointment with a certain individual over the weekend.” The woman narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“Maybe,” she said, drawing her wand behind her. “What's it to you?”

“The people that I work for have expressed a particular interest in your client,” Harry assured the woman, smiling gently. “However, you are in a unique position where he is concerned. It will only require a minor deviation in your normal routine, and you will be compensated for your cooperation.” This caught the woman's attention, as she leaned closer in interest.

“Compensated how?” she asked.

“Your usual fare plus say…fifteen galleons?” Harry offered to her.

“What do I have to do?” the woman asked, the image of fifteen gold coins dancing in her eyes. Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a small zip-top bag containing white powder.

“Just stir this powder into his tea,” Harry explained as he offered her the item, “and after he falls asleep, just lay the baggie on his person and tap it with your wand three times. After that, you will receive your reward.” Bidding her good-bye, Harry walked out of the building and into an awaiting car, a disguised Hermione at the wheel. “That was easy,” Harry sighed as he slid into the passenger seat.

“I imagine it was, seeing as we offered her almost a full month's rent extra,” Hermione said as she shifted the car into gear and pulled into the street. Harry merely shrugged in response.

------

Two days later, Harry and a female agent that Hermione had identified as “Matthews” were hiding in the bushes near the rendezvous place where Zabini and his mistress would meet. They watched through binoculars as first Zabini, then the woman that Harry had bribed Apparate into the house. They spoke for a few minutes and prepared tea, then as Zabini went into the bathroom, the woman spiked Zabini's cup with the drug that Harry had provided.

“How long does that stuff take to work anyway?” Harry whispered as he readjusted his grip on his binoculars.

“About five minutes after consumption,” Matthews replied, shifting her position slightly. They watched with malicious grins as Zabini drank the tainted beverage, and they lowered their binoculars as Zabini reached for the clasp of his robes, neither of them wanting to be traumatized by Zabini's activities. “So, you and Granger, huh?” Matthews asked after several minutes had passed, briefly glimpsing into her binoculars before lowering them with a shudder.

“What about us?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

“Nothing,” Matthews said innocently, “just making small talk.” Humming skeptically, Harry lifted his binoculars to see the woman, now covered by a bed sheet, laying the plastic bag on the now unconscious Zabini's back and tapping it three times with her wand before Zabini disappeared with a pop.

“Great,” Harry grunted as he lowered his communicator to his mouth. “Mission is a success, target is in custody, move out and return to HQ,” he muttered into the device before he and Matthews crawled out of the bushes and took a portkey back to Hogwarts.

------

When Zabini slowly drifted back into consciousness, he noticed a few things. Firstly, his head felt like it was being split in two. Secondly, he was in a dark room that most definitely was not his getaway house. Thirdly, he was tied to a chair with no way to move his extremities. He heard a door open, and he saw a silhouette standing in front of the light. The door closed, and several torches burst into flames, revealing his companion to be none other than Hermione.

“Ahh, Granger,” Zabini sneered. “What an unpleasant surprise.”

“Hello to you too, Blaise,” Hermione said, smiling. “I apologize for your accommodations, but that was all we could gather on such short notice,” she said insincerely.

“You're never going to get anything out of me,” Zabini sneered again, although beneath his display of bravado he was becoming nervous. Hermione chuckled evilly at his statement.

“Yes, that's what they all said,” she said flippantly. “But they all cracked soon enough, and it'll be two days before anyone even notices that you're gone,” she continued, sitting down on a chair that she had conjured. “I think I'll crack you too.” Zabini could not help but gulp nervously.

------

“Okay, the major patrol units will be in the Atrium,” Hermione dictated as she pointed to a holographic projection of the Ministry of Magic building. “Two teams, lead by Mr. Potter and myself, will enter through the sewers here,” she continued, waving her wand to zoom in on a particular section of the structure. “There's one scanner by the exit, which Mr. Potter can take out. From there, there'll be another two scanners in the next room.

“Right outside of the office, which incidentally used to be occupied by our guest Seamus Finnegan, is an entrance to a stairway that leads all the way up to the level where the Minister's office is. Luckily for us, there are no scanners inside the stairway; however, there are scanners inside the main levels, and I highly doubt that we could destroy every single one we run across without getting discovered. Therefore, our first destination will be here,” she said, waving her wand again to zoom to a different section of the building. “This is the security office, operated by our former guest Zabini, and controls all scanners within the building. If we can get in there and deactivate the scanners, the security effectiveness will be severely crippled.

“From there, we have three primary targets,” Hermione said, the hologram displaying three images, as well as highlighting three areas near the top of the structure. “Ronald Weasley, head of Magical Games and Sports; Ginevra Weasley, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister, and Dolores Umbridge, Minister of Magic. If they attack, you are all authorized to retaliate to defend your lives, but try to capture them alive if at all possible.” Her eyes flickered to Harry briefly before she shifted it back to the assembly. “So, any questions?” One man raised his hand.

“Yeah,” the agent said, “if we're going in through the sewers, what's to keep us from being detected just by people smelling us?” he asked curiously.

“Don't worry, we've got that covered,” Hermione assured the man. “Anything else?” A different agent raised his hand.

“What do we do if someone sees us?” he asked.

“You stun them, confiscate their wand, bind them and stash them somewhere where they won't be found,” Hermione explained. “Anything else?” she asked again. No one else raised their hand, and Hermione nodded in satisfaction. “Very well then, you're dismissed. We move out in two hours.” Harry stayed behind as the rest of the agents left to prepare for the upcoming mission. “So, are you ready for this, Harry?” Hermione asked. Harry turned to her and smiled darkly.

“I've spent the past thirteen and a half years getting ready,” he replied.

----

I don't know how much rent is in Europe, but here in the paradise state, 15 Galleons (approx. US$150) won't get you very far (I think a studio apartment costs at least $200 a month).

This fic is almost done; I reckon two or three more chapters until the end.

Don't forget to read and review!

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8. Revolution

As a note, I have no idea how the sewer system is actually mapped out, so write it off as creative license.

A word of warning: There is some gore in this chapter, so if that bothers you, then I suggest that you either skip over it, or wait until the next chapter, whenever that will be.

I don't own Harry Potter.

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Chapter 7 - Revolution

A rush of wind echoed in the outskirts of London at the two infiltration teams portkeyed into an abandoned alley.

“Okay, I'm confused here,” one of the members of Hermione's team said. “Why would the Ministry be hooked up to the Muggle sewer system anyway?” Harry and Hermione bent down and together, lifted the heavy manhole cover.

“Because,” Hermione groaned, straining against the heavy weight of the lid before setting it down on the ground, “before, a person would have to go down every week and clean the sewers by himself. But when the sewer system was implemented, the Ministry linked itself to it to eliminate that problem.” Hermione stepped onto the small rungs on the side of the sewer wall and climbed down, followed by Harry and their two teams. “This way,” Hermione beckoned after everyone was protected from the noxious fumes by a bubblehead charm.

They walked through the sewers for over ten minutes, dodging rats and unidentifiable piles of matter (“it's probably rat shit,” one of the men grumbled darkly). Eventually, they stopped below a particular opening.

“Here,” Hermione said simply. Conjuring a rope and a metal weight, she tied the rope around the weight and, placing a delayed sticking charm on it, swung it around several times before throwing it towards the hole, the weight sticking to the ceiling. After giving it several experimental tugs, she turned to the assembled agents. “Okay, people, put on your climbing gloves,” she said, donning a pair of gloves with sticking charms on the fingertips. When the others had repeated her action, she grabbed the rope and began pulling herself up towards the sewer opening. When she reached the top, she grabbed onto the side of the opening, the sticking charms holding her fast to the smooth side, and slowly began scaling up the sewer drain, her subordinates following her.

“Just out of curiosity, boss,” one of her teammates said as they scaled the narrow tube, “what happens if hundreds of gallons of raw sewage suddenly decides to dump itself on our heads?”

“The purge was this morning,” Hermione countered, “so that shouldn't be a problem.” Soon enough, Hermione reached a block in the path, a different material than the walls of the pipes that she was climbing in. She carefully positioned herself so that she could safely release one of her hands and grab her wand. Aiming upwards, she unleashed a Banishing hex, blasting the barrier away and clearing the way for her to climb out.

Being careful not to stick her hands or feet in any waste product, she climbed into the main waste disposal chamber of the Ministry of Magic, and began helping those behind her climb out. After the last one had been pulled out, she nodded towards Harry, who drew his wand and waved it around the room.

“Scourgify,” he chanted, and a wave of magic spread throughout the room, clearing away the piles and puddles of human waste, so that the walls and floors were spotlessly clean, and any unwelcome smells were washed away, leaving the whole room and its inhabitants with a clean, sterile scent.

“Damn, I should hire you to clean my flat,” one of the agents said, impressed. Hermione rolled her eyes and unlocked the door, leading the others out into the hallway. When they neared the end, Hermione stopped, and wordlessly pointed upwards. Nodding in understanding, Harry drew his pistol and carefully peered around the corner. On the top of the adjacent wall, pointing where the agents would be exposed to turn the corner was a surveillance crystal. Harry took careful aim and pulled the trigger, the bullet obliterating the crystal in a shower of sparks and shrapnel. Picking up the spent casing and dropping it into his pocket, Harry motioned that it was safe to advance.

This pattern continued as they slowly infiltrated the Ministry of Magic: Hermione taking point, with Harry periodically jumping ahead to eliminate any surveillance crystals. They had occasionally happened across the odd security guard or low-level worker taking a late night, but they were quickly stunned and shoved somewhere where they would not be noticed before continuing. Their first destination was the security office, where the remaining crystals were disable, ensuring their invisibility.

Eventually, they reached their designated crossroads, where Harry ejected his magazine and pulled back the slide, releasing the chambered round, catching it and pushing it back into the magazine.

“Well, this is where we split up,” Hermione said, turning to face Harry. “Don't try to get yourself killed on the way.”

“I won't,” Harry said seriously. Hermione smiled grimly.

“I'll see you on the other side, then,” she said.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, sliding the magazine back into his pistol. “Viva la revolution,” he said dramatically, pulling the slide back and chambering a new round. With a final meaningful look, the two friends parted ways to clear out the rest of the Ministry.

------

Hermione strode meaningfully through the many hallways, her entourage trailing behind her, as she searched for one particular office. When she reached the one that she was looking for, she paused as memories of what had happened that last time that she was there drifted forward.

------

Hermione and her crew carefully rifled through the papers, making sure to not make anything seem out of place. They were there looking for something valuable to the cause, and being caught burglarizing the Ministry of Magic would lead to a life sentence in Azkaban, or worse.

“Boss, I found it,” one of her subordinates said, raising a folder. Hermione took it from his hands and rifled through it, a grin growing on her face. It had everything anyone could ever want to know about Azkaban prison: blueprints, prisoner rosters, guard rotation schedules, everything.

“Good work,” Hermione said, passing it back to the agent who had found it. “Now let's get out of here before we get cau—” she continued, but was interrupted by the door opening, revealing a shocked Ginny Weasley. “Get out!” Hermione ordered, and reached up to activate her emergency portkey. However, before she vanished, she felt a blinding pain shooting from her left arm. When she arrived at her destination at Hogwarts, she immediately collapsed, clutching her arm, screaming in anguish.

Hermione spared a glance downwards, and immediately regretted it. Whatever Ginny had struck her with had left deep gashes all along her lower arm, blood flowing everywhere. Some pieces of her flesh had been completely shorn off, revealing the pale bone underneath. The pain ate away at her so much that she barely heard Madam Pomfrey request permission to amputate. Too stressed to speak, Hermione only gave a short nod in affirmation. Satisfied, the school Healer pointed her wand at Hermione's arm and casting a cutting charm on it just below the elbow joint. Feeling the pain of the spell slicing through flesh and bone with ease, Hermione eagerly welcomed the darkness that enveloped her.

“Boss?” a distant voice from the darkness asked, concerned. “Boss?” it asked again, more urgently this time.

------

“Boss?” one of Hermione's subordinates asked, poking her in the shoulder. “You still with us?” Hermione snapped out of her trance and shook her head.

“I'm fine, just spaced out,” she said quickly. Drawing her wand, Hermione removed the locking charms on the door and kicked it open, shocking the room's inhabitant. “Hello, Ginny, we're here to overthrow you,” Hermione said simply before tossing a stunning hex towards the redheaded woman, who blocked it and retaliated with a spell of her own. “Make sure that she can't escape, but I want her alive,” Hermione ordered her underlings as she walked closer towards her target, alternately blocking and throwing spells at her.

Eventually, Hermione boxed Ginny into a corner of the room, and the traitorous Weasley tossed a random hex at her aggressor, who blocked it with her prosthetic arm, although it destroyed her gauntlet. Destroying Ginny's wand with a well placed cutting charm, Hermione punched her foe in the jaw, sending the white mask that she wore flying and revealing her disfigured face, before grabbing her by the throat with her left hand and pulled the younger woman to her feet.

“Listen to me, you little bitch,” Hermione hissed, her cold eyes boring into Ginny's fearful eyes, “for what you did to me, to Harry and to this country, you deserve to rot in Hell. The only reason why I won't kill you right now is because Harry would be so disappointed that you died without him letting you know just how upset he is about your betrayal.” Satisfied with her threats, Hermione increased the choke hold on Ginny until she passed out from lack of oxygen, then tossed her limp body aside, stunning and binding her. “You two,” she barked, pointing at two of her subordinates, “stay here and guard her. If she wakes up, stun her again. If anyone else comes into here, stun them and determine if they're friendly or not. The rest of you, with me.” The lesser men quickly and obediently went to their assigned positions, not daring to even consider questioning the orders of their leader.

------

Harry stalked down the hallways of his section of the Ministry of Magic, his pistol drawn and ready to fire. He was looking for one particular office, even though he had no idea where it was.

Finally, Harry found the door that he was looking for, emblazoned with the words Head of the Department of Games and Sports. Figures, Harry thought dryly as he turned to his assembled team.

“You,” Harry said as he pointed to the first person he saw, “I want you to stun the first person you see, no hesitations, you got it?” The man nodded confidently, drawing his wand. Cocking the hammer back on his pistol, Harry blasted the doorknob off and kicked it open, the selected agent then shooting a stunner at the sole occupant of the office, rendering him unconscious. Harry walked up to the limp body and stooped down, pulling the other man's wand out of his robes before snapping it in half. “Wake him up, and put up a silencing ward,” Harry ordered. His underlings complied, and the redheaded man had barely stirred before he found himself being forcefully pulled up and shoved into a wall.

“You son of a bitch!” Harry roared, throwing his prisoner across the room, smashing a chair in the process. “You ruined my life!”

Ronald Weasley felt a trickle of warm liquid run down his pants leg as he was pulled up by his assailant: his former best friend, and the man that he had sentenced to Azkaban for thirteen years. Harry's face was twisted with rage, and his eyes were glowing ominously.

“You sent me to hell for thirteen years!” Harry raged, throwing Ron onto his desk, destroying several objects. “Why?!” Ron whimpered in terror at the powerful man looming above him, his fear compelling him to speak truthfully.

“I…I was angry at you,” Ron simpered. “Once again you were the conquering hero, and I was just the sidekick who tagged along. I got sick of being in your shadow, so I figured, with you gone, I could finally get the recognition I wanted. But things didn't exactly work out as I had hoped, but by then it was too late.” Weasley gulped nervously as Harry fingered his pistol. “Please don't kill me,” he added pathetically. Harry laughed at his plead, a cold laugh that sent chills down everyone's spines.

“`Don't kill you?'” Harry echoed darkly, hoisting Ron to his feet before raising his pistol, leveling it with the redheaded man's forehead. “I have every reason in the world to kill you.” Several tense moments passed without a word, Ron whimpering in terror at the black weapon pointing down at him, and the crazed man wielding it. “But I won't,” Harry said finally, lowering his arm and letting his pistol hang by his side. “Even though you sold me out to Umbridge of all people, you were still my friend once, and that counts for something.” Ron visibly sagged in relief that his life was spared. “I can still hurt you, though,” Harry added casually as he raised his pistol back up and pulled the trigger. The spell-enhanced bullet penetrated Ron's leg and detonated, showering the walls with blood and gore as it ripped apart his leg just above the knee, and Ron toppled to the floor, clutching his obliterated stump of a leg and screaming in anguish. Several of the rebel agents paled at the sight, and one quickly spun around and vomited. “Heal his wound and bind him,” Harry ordered as he stepped over the writhing man, holstering his pistol. One of the agents nodded weakly and healed the bloody wound before stunning and binding the traitor before following their leader.

------

Harry had finally reached a large wooden door, the words Minister of Magic proudly stamped on its surface in gold lettering. Despite his eagerness to simply storm in and finish the job, Harry followed the plan, and patiently waited for Hermione's unit to catch up with them. As Harry and Hermione took their positions in front of the door, her wand drawn and his weapon pointing at the door knob, they shared a glance.

“Remember, return fire only,” she reminded him.

“Don't worry about it,” Harry assured her before he pulled the trigger, the bullet blasting off the door knob before Hermione kicked the door open, immediately stunning the surprised Umbridge. Hermione immediately summoned the toad-like woman's wand, as well as a crystal that would summon the aurors to her office. After lifting the unconscious witch into a chair and binding her to it, Hermione waved her wand, reviving Umbridge.

“Release me now, Mudblood!” she spat angrily, vainly struggling against her binds. Hermione grinned sardonically before stepping forward and swiftly backhanding Umbridge. However, as Hermione had used her left, artificial hand, blood mixed with spittle flew out of Umbridge's mouth as she recoiled from the impact.

“Oops,” Hermione quipped, not apologetic in the slightest. “Now that that's out of our systems, allow me to present you a deal: Surrender now and I'll let you leave her alive and whole.” In response, Umbridge defiantly spat a wad of blood and saliva at Hermione. The younger woman looked down at the thin red liquid in disgust and cleaned it with a flick of her wand. Hermione pushed Umbridge so that she was further away from her desk before pulling a small vial of a clear liquid from her pocket. “Recognize this?” Hermione asked, shaking the bottle slightly. “My friend Harry here,” she continued while gesturing to Harry, who smiled sinisterly, “has a few questions for you. Now are you going to take this willingly, or am I going to have to…persuade you?” she asked, uncorking the bottle. Umbridge was glaring daggers at Hermione, which gave her all the answer she needed. The brunette witch roughly stomped down on her prisoner's foot, who screamed in pain, while Hermione quickly poured three drops down Umbridge's throat.

Umbridge's eyes glazed over and her body grew slack as the truth potion took effect on her. Hermione stepped aside, allowing Harry to approach the drugged woman.

“Why did you have me framed?” Harry asked. He was fairly certain of the reason behind it, but he wanted to be certain.

“I did it because you were an obstacle,” Umbridge droned dully, the potion robbing her voice of all emotion. “I had aims to take over the Ministry of Magic and cleanse it of the Mudblood taint, but you and that fool Shacklebolt stood in my way. Many of the Wizengamot were still of the old ways, so it was easy to convince them to vote in my favor.” Harry idly tapped the side of his pistol with his finger as he digested this information.

“Who did you hire to impersonate me?” Harry inquired.

“Theodore Nott Jr.,” Umbridge answered obediently. “I do not know how he acquired a piece of you for the Polyjuice, nor did I see it necessary to ask.” Harry's expression grew unreadable as he processed her statement, before flipping the safety on his pistol and holster it.

“Do what you want with her,” Harry said as he turned to Hermione. “Kill her, imprison her, I don't care anymore. I have what I needed; now I just want it all to end.” Without another word, Harry sidestepped the assembled witches and wizards and stared out the enchanted window, his arms crossed. With a weary sigh, Hermione turned to Umbridge, her wand raised.

“Dolores Umbridge,” Hermione toned emotionlessly, “for your acts of atrocity towards the Wizarding world, and Muggleborns in particular, you have been overthrown as Minister of Magic. Once a cohesive government body has been reestablished, you will be tried in a court of law for your crimes.” A flash of red erupted from the tip of her wand, and Umbridge's world went dark.

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Not how I originally planned for it to end, but I think that it's acceptable.

One more chapter before this story is finished.

Sorry, PJ, I didn't shoot Ron in the crotch like you asked. I hope that having a leg blown off will be an acceptable substitute.

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9. Epilogue

Finally, the final chapter of Savage Innocence is here.

I don't own Harry Potter.

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Epilogue

The overtaking of the Ministry of Magic was a swift and silent affair. Harry had confronted Ginny about her betrayal while waiting for the rest of the Wizengamot to appear. His “discussion” with her took place behind closed doors, with the room warded to prevent any sound from escaping, so no one except Harry knew for sure what had happened, although from then on, Ginny practically fainted in fear whenever she even so much as glanced at Harry.

With the Ministry under their control, the resistance fighters waited through the night for the Wizengamot members to appear the next morning, where they were cornered and offered a chance to surrender. One had tried to fight his way out, to no avail. The rest had yielded quietly.

With Hermione acting as temporary Minister, Harry was exonerated of the crimes that he was falsely accused of. Next, Hermione implemented a court system based on Muggle courts, with equal representation from both sides, each defendant ultimately judged by a jury of twelve randomly selected citizens.

For her role in framing Harry Potter for the assassination of Kingsley Shacklebolt, Dolores Umbridge was sentenced to life in prison without possibility of parole. Nott Jr. was given the same sentence for the assassination itself. Everyone else's sentences ranged from community service to life in prison with the possibility of parole.

Hermione then decreed that all dementors dwelling within Azkaban prison to be removed and destroyed, citing their extended presence as “a cruel and unusual punishment.” In their places, autonomous sentinels were stationed outside each cell. These golems, immune to spells as well as bribes or blackmail, made the perfect guards for the prison.

After one year in office, Hermione had planted the seeds of a democracy in magical Britain, and stepped down for whoever her successor may be. Washing their hands of the country, Harry and Hermione packed up what little belongings they had left and traveled.

They wandered all over the world, finally free of the burdens that had weighed on their shoulders for most of their lives, to simply enjoy themselves. But while during they daylight hours, they seemed to be a normal young couple, enjoying the sights, things changed when night fell.

Nightmares plagued both of them as they vainly tried to sleep. For Harry, it was the events of the war with Voldemort and his Death Eaters, compounded by his lengthy incarceration in Azkaban; for Hermione, it was the stresses of maintaining a guerilla war for thirteen years. While sleeping together in the same bed was a habit that they had never abolished, their mutual insomnia pushed this action further than it ever had before. The first time that they had shared their bodies with each other was in Venice, six months after they left Britain.

For the next three years, it would become a routine for them: during the day, they would explore the city, acting like the tourists they were, and at night, they would lose themselves in the throes of passion until they could not help but collapse in exhaustion. It was harmless, and they were usually quite diligent with the contraceptive charms, but one night, they forgot, and the consequences of their complacency appeared soon enough.

Both of them had immediately dismissed the possibility of abortion. They had considered giving it up for adoption, but eventually decided against it. Harry's reason was his fear of another Voldemort rising up; Hermione's was more personal. “One day, we're going to look back on this moment in ten, twenty years from now,” she had said. “If we give our child away, we're going to be wondering what will have happened to it, and that question will haunt us for the rest of our lives.” They eventually decided to keep the baby, realizing that their lives were about to be irreparably changed again. Since they were not married, they decided that if the baby was a boy, its surname would be Potter, and Granger if it was a girl.

They eventually settled down in Australia, where they bought a house and found jobs: Hermione, a position at the local library; Harry, as a chef in a small nearby café. They also decided that they needed to face their demons, and began seeking a therapist to assist them. By sheer chance, they had found a psychologist that happened to be a Muggleborn wizard, and swore a magical oath to keep their secrets. From there, they finally let go of all the things that they had been containing within themselves for so long, and the healing process could finally begin.

On the seventeenth of June 2013, Joanna Lillian Granger was born. She had inherited her father's mop of black hair, although her eyes were unique: One was her mother's murky brown, while the other was her father's sparkling green.

While they occasionally wrote letters to their friends, Harry and Hermione never returned to England. When Joanna turned eleven, she was accepted to the Australian Institute of Sorcery, and grew up to become one of the most brilliant potion mistresses of the modern age.

Harry and Hermione enjoyed each other's company as domestic partners for many years before they eventually decided to marry. They bore another child, Jonathan Sirius Potter, who eventually became a world-class professional dueler. Hermione wrote several award-winning books, both fiction and non-fiction in both the Muggle and magical worlds, while Harry studied for a culinary degree and eventually opened a five-star restaurant. While it was not the future that they had imagined for themselves when they were younger, they had finally found something that they had spent over twenty years searching for:

Peace.

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There it is, the final chapter. Unfortunately, it is a bit on the short side, but I think it brings the whole thing to a satisfying close, don't you?

Don't forget to review!

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Savage Innocence

1. Prologue - Prisoner of my Demise

2. Free Me from This Mockery of Justice

3. Release the Guilty Innocent

4. Superman for a Day

5. Taking Out the Trash

6. Exchanging Words

7. Placing the Pieces

8. Revolution

9. Epilogue