Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Harry Potter, nor do I own this story (it belongs completely to my imagination).
A/N: Reposted. Just little changes. Much better now.
If you asked most anyone about Harry Potter after his seventh years, there would be a moment of hesitation and then an answer: Ah. Harry Potter. Dead, isn't he?
But there were several people—most of them red-headed—who would measure you with their eyes, and if you were found worthy, they would respond: He's not gone forever.
Neither of these two differing responses are quite true. Harry Potter was not gone forever, or dead, but some of what made him Harry Potter—shall we call it naïveté—was.
In fact, Harry Potter disappeared along with Voldemort after the last Horcrux had been found and destroyed. Yet neither Voldemort nor Harry were dead. Voldemort was trying to find out—by way of Harry—what large injections of raw magic while being under the Cruciatus Curse would do to a person.
This was Voldemort's last mistake.
You see, Harry's intelligence had been the first aspect of his person to be amplified. So he realized that the best thing to do was to pretend to still be unconscious. Next had come physical. All five senses had been made more acute, his body more muscular, more graceful, more speedy. And, finally, had come magical. Harry's magical power—already significant—had been multiplied to many times its original volume.
But along with the power came pain. The pain of the Cruciatus that Harry had to endure as part of the 'experiments,' the pain of the wounds he involuntarily inflicted on himself, and the pain of the raw magic itself. The only thing that kept Harry going through those dark two years was the memory of Ginny Weasley.
Her beautiful red hair.
Her soft brown eyes.
Her musical voice—when she wasn't shouting.
Her bright, fiery personality.
The few months they had spent together as official boyfriend and girlfriend in his sixth year.
That was all that kept him sane.
But one day, Harry realized that one more 'experiment' and he would break. He was at the his power was at its zenith—he should get it over with.
So, when Voldemort came to Harry's restraining chair, it was the third year of experiments, and still Voldemort was no closer to a discovery that would help him than the muggle world was to a cure for cancer.
On that day, Voldemort had just set the tip of his wand to Harry's temple when Harry acted.
The bonds snapped; Harry burst out of the chair and took grabbed Voldemort around the neck. Through his hands, he shot immense amounts of wild power into the Dark Lord. It was more than Harry had received at any one time, and Voldemort's body—so weak, and so unlike Harry's enhanced one—could not handle the sudden influx of magic in its purest form.
Voldemort's soul—his life—sizzled and burned out. Harry was left with a husk in his hands, which he carefully preserved with a simple Freezing Charm—wandless.
Then Harry moved himself to the one place he ever felt really at home. Hogwarts. It was, remarkably, still standing. Harry could pick up the scents of hundreds of students.
And one more.
A smell he knew so well—even before his nose was enhanced—that he recognized it instantly.
Can you guess who it was?
Ginny Weasley was at Hogwarts, teaching by the sound of it. So Harry moved to her presence—the bright beacon—the fire in the night—the lighthouse—his sanctuary.
"Ginny?" he said hoarsely. He had not made a sound but for screams in three years. His voice was harsh as the crow's—the feeder of death—the symbol of the ending of life.
The classroom which Ginny was standing in front of grew silent and this strange man, dressed in rags and carrying a—body—a human—and Ginny smiled.
"Harry," she said. She was a little older, a little sadder—but her hair was the same—her voice was the same—
"I came back," Harry said. "That bastard Voldemort made me his murderer. I got him dead, Ginny."
He held out the Frozen body of Voldemort, and everyone but Ginny gasped.
"That's him?" she asked.
"Yes," Harry replied.
"What did he do to you?" Ginny asked him. The seventh years in the classroom did not exist; it was only the two of them in there, by Ginny's desk, under the photo of a Red Cap that was framed and on the wall.
"He made me powerful," Harry said. "He experimented with me. He put raw magic into me while I was under Cruciatus."
"Give me that body," Ginny demanded. Obediently, Harry handed it over. In one quick motion, Ginny dropped it on the floor and stomped on its face. The demonic red eyes opened at the force.
"It needs to be recognizable," Harry said, a ghost—a mere ghost—yet more than in three years—of a smile on his face.
"I—" Ginny started. She stopped with one foot in the air, about to stomp again. "I—I knew you would come back."
"Thank you," Harry said quietly. "How many didn't?"
"They thought you were dead," Ginny said. "But I knew."
"Part of me can never be the same," Harry replied. He walked forward, right over Voldemort's corpse, to take up Ginny's hands in his own.
Suddenly, the class seemed to realize that they were spectators of an extremely personal moment, so they gathered up their books and left as quickly as possible to spread a bit of gossip. Neither Ginny nor Harry noticed.
"Share the memories with me, Harry," Ginny said. "Show them to me. Let me experience them."
"Why?" Harry asked bitterly. "To pity me?"
"No," Ginny replied. "To understand."
"Why?" Harry asked again. He seemed a child; curious, innocent, sweet—yet his childhood had been taken from him.
"I—" Ginny stuttered again. "I—I know something of evil—and—I—I love you."
"Still you love me?" Harry asked. It was not the most tactful—but—Harry was not known for his tact. "I'd think you would move on."
"Not when I love you," Ginny insisted. "I love you. I want to understand you."
"I—it's not pretty," Harry said finally in defeat.
"No," Ginny said. "But it's needful. Really. How could we have a relationship when one of us is like a two-year-old in emotional maturity and one like a fifty-year-old? Come on, love. I can use this connection we have—"
"All right," Harry said. He didn't want to relive the memories—but—if—
Ginny kissed him, and with the kiss came a flood of memories through it. The dam was broken; the levees overflowing—and Harry didn't mind.
Even while Ginny was in the memories she didn't break the kiss. It lasted for a long time, until finally Ginny had them inside her. When she looked up at Harry, her eyes were—deeper—and her smile a little more painful—but she was the same Ginny.
That she could still smile brought Harry from the pits of depression and he—smiled—at her.
"There," Ginny breathed. "Now, love, Let's go alert the world."
"I love you," Harry whispered. This declaration brought a blinding smile from Ginny, and she levitated Voldemort's corpse so she could drag Harry along with her free hand.
"Now, we have to get you new robes—those are utterly tattered—and have been for what, three years?—and Voldemort never had the decency to give you new ones—" Harry had to laugh at that. "—Voldemort is even worse than I thought—let's see how he likes being dressed in rags—little bastard—quite literally, you know—should we put him in a muggle freezer?—one of those morgue things—that word sounds like his name—" Ginny's rather amusing babbling was halted by their arrival at the gargoyle behind which lay the Headmaster/mistress' office.
"Who's Headmaster? Who's Minister?" Harry asked suddenly. His voice still sounded like he had just been released from a tight chokehold.
"Professor Lupin," Ginny said. "Professor McGonagall retired—said she didn't have enough strength. Remember all those Stunners in your OWL's? So, Hermione teaches Transfiguration, and I teach Defense. And Draco Malfoy is Minister of Magic." Draco Malfoy had redeemed himself very dramatically in the war, as had Snape. Both were respected figures in the community when Harry had been kidnapped.
"Good," Harry said. He visibly steeled himself. After all he had gone through, he wasn't sure how well he would handle things. "Are—he and Tonks still together?"
"Married," Ginny said proudly. She gave the password ("Othello!") and the gargoyle moved aside.
"Who is it?" Lupin's voice sounded through the door.
"Ginny," Ginny called back. In a quick aside to Harry, she explained that werewolf discrimination had stopped because of a new form of the Wolfsbane Potion: it took up residence in the spinal cord, so the werewolf needed only to take it once for the effects to last their entire life. Now, Professor Lupin was a very beloved Headmaster and sounding much less tired.
"Then come in," Lupin replied. "Who's with you?" he asked then, as Ginny pushed open the door.
"Professor Lupin?" Harry rasped. "It's Harry…"
"No—!" Lupin said. "It couldn't be. Harry's disappeared—he's not here—"
"It is Harry," Ginny said. "And he's brought Voldemort's corpse."
"I—" Lupin started. "I suppose—I…believe you…"
"Thank you Professor Lupin," Harry said. He walked over to Lupin and enfolded him into a hug, while Ginny looked on with a soft smile. Reunions make one feel like things are right in the world.
"Now," Lupin said, after he and Harry broke apart. "We do have alert the press. Just one article, and then we get the Minister to order your privacy. Also, we have to start on the plans for your and Ginny's wedding."
Harry groaned, but inside—he was glad to be back in the world, even if it meant over-the-top fame and attention. After all, Ginny was here, she'd shared his memories, she loved him, and she didn't want him to be sad.
Everything was in his favor.
The next day, an article came out in The Daily Prophet and all other wizarding media. The Quibbler, now run by Luna Lovegood, claimed to have known all along, due to the amazing clairvoyant powers of the Snorklehumph.
BOY-WHO-LIVED COMES BACK AS MAN-WHO-CONQUERED!
October 19, Hogwarts: Harry Potter arrived in the classroom of Professor Virginia Weasley, who teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts, and he was holding the Frozen corpse of the late Lord Voldemort. Upon arrival, Mr. Potter and Professor Weasley had an intimate moment of reunion, as Professor Weasley's seventh year class tells us.
"It was the sweetest thing," says Mr. Dennis Creevey.
After the reunion, Mr. Potter and Professor Weasley reported to Professor Remus Lupin, Headmaster of Hogwarts, and they decided to alert the press to the situation.
The Man-Who-Conquered tells us of his three years when he was in the hands of the late Lord Voldemort.
We have recorded his report word for word, as Minister of Magic Draco Malfoy instructed.
"Voldemort had made seven Horcruxes. In my seventh year, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley and I destroyed them all.
"Once Voldemort found out, he kidnapped me when I was unaware. He took me to an empty prison building, which I believe is in Siberia or thereabouts.
"In that building, he experimented with me. He was trying to find out whether large injections of raw magic into the bloodstream combined with the Cruciatus Curse could give him more power than before.
"As my intelligence was the first aspect of me that he enlarged, I realized that I could not let him know that the raw magic injections did give me more power. I waited—not giving any sign that any part of me had been enhanced.
"When I felt that I could not take any more power without dying, I acted. I burst out of my bonds with the enhanced strength that Voldemort's experiments had given me, and I overloaded his system with too much pure magic. The physical body cannot manage it, unless made stronger as mine was.
"Then—I'm not sure how—I used a power I had gained that is like Apparating to go to Hogwarts. I went directly to Professor Weasley's classroom."
Since the war is over, Mr. Potter plans to go into the Department of Mysteries, to "study the veil."
Mr. Potter will be wed to Professor Weasley on February 14, this year. Planning is in progress, and some of the details shall soon be released. It is to be a very private ceremony and reception, but the press has been authorized to report on it.
Minister Malfoy has requested that the press only report on events in Mr. Potter's life at Mr. Potter's request.
As this is the least the wizarding world can do for the Man-Who-Conquered, The Daily Prophet swears that we will honor his request, as have every other news source in Great Britain and possibly all other areas of the world.
Harry did go into the Department of Mysteries, and made many discoveries. He married Ginny, and they had two pairs of twins, both able to rival Fred and George in the mischief making capacities.
They all lived happily ever after.
Except for Voldemort.