/ AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Before we get started, I'd just like to say that I, like many people, was not satisfied with the epilogue chapter present at the end of Deathly Hallows. I kicked around a lot of ideas on how the Potter story should end, how the loose ends should be closed, and how the Triumvirate of Heroism that is Harry, Ron, and Hermione should should proceed with their lives.
Ultimately, I felt that they deserved proper recognition for all their actions, not just killing Voldemort. This story is about how that happens.
It's not finished, I'm hoping releasing it to the public will spur some motivation to finish it. In order for that to work, I'm going to need some feedback, so if you like the story, please comment on it.
Thanks in advance,
GodsDemonicMessenger
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Harry Potter sat lounging on the couch in the Weasley's living room, a quill in one hand and a roll of parchment on his lap. Ron and Hermione sat around him with their own writing materials.
The Burrow was their safe haven. The press and the wizarding community in general had attempted to descend on them after the events at Hogwarts two months prior. It had become so impossible to find peace that Hermione had cast the Fidelius Charm on the place to keep them all out.
The three of them knew that the press couldn't be trusted to tell the truth about them so they'd resolved to tell it themselves.
They'd been at it for weeks. Just the three of them together, hashing out their story.
"Bit weird writing an autobiography at the age of eighteen," Ron said for what seemed like the hundredth time as he intermittently scribbled on his parchment.
Harry smiled at his friend's predictability. "You've got a point there Ron," he replied once again.
"I don't exactly have the best memory for details," he continued. "And it's not like we've ever written a book before."
"Better us than Rita Skeeter," Hermione piped in, contempt clear in her voice. "Besides, this won't be nearly as difficult as our sixth year. It's just a matter of putting down the facts."
Harry leaned his head back against the couch and stared up at the ceiling. "That may be so Hermione but we've been at this for weeks and we've barely scratched the surface. My head is swimming with facts. It makes me wish I had Dumbledore's Pensieve right now to help sort out the relevant stuff."
"We've been over this Harry," Hermione replied tiredly, still scribbling on her piece of parchment as she spoke. "The Pensieve is at Hogwarts and the place is locked down tight while they fix the damage. It's just not worth it to sneak in and get it.
"Besides, Muggles don't have things like that and they manage just fine."
Harry sat up. "I know, I know," he said.
Hermione looked up from her parchment and stretched her neck. She glanced at her watch and said, "Why don't we take another break. Mr. Weasley should be home soon and we can ask him about the situation at the Ministry."
"Yeah, okay," Harry replied. They each put down their quills and the pieces of parchment they'd been working on, partly finished outlines of their childhoods sketched across them. Hermione's was the longest, of course.
Together they rose, each stretching long where they stood, and as one they made their way toward the kitchen door.
"When do you reckon Mum'll be back from Bill and Fleur's?" Ron asked the other two.
"Probably around the same time your dad gets home Ron. She'll want to whip up something to eat for us before it gets too late," Hermione replied. "We should probably start picking vegetables for her, come to think of it."
They wandered out into the yard. Harry glanced at the perimeter of the property and saw the usual crowd of reporters and "fans" bunched up against the edge of the Fidelius Charm's influence. How they managed to know where to go when only Hermione, as Secret Keeper, could tell people the address Harry didn't know.
He quickly moved off to help Ginny feed the chickens as they waited for Mr. Weasley.
"They've got no shame, have they?" Ginny commented as he approached, dipping her head at the mass of people silently screaming outside the fence. She gave him a tender smile as he leaned in to kiss her cheek.
"None whatsoever," he replied as he straightened and began tossing grain to the chickens. "I keep hoping George will throw a Fanged Frisbee out there for old time's sake. They'd never see it coming; literally."
Ginny laughed in spite of herself. Fred's death had hit everyone hard but George had suffered the most from it. He spent most of his time cooped up in his old room, making good use of the Fidelius Charm's protection. He almost never came down for meals, opting instead to sneak down in the middle of the night for leftovers.
They'd managed to hold a proper burial for their friends before the media caught on to their scheme of secrecy and they'd been forced to resort to the Fidelius Charm to get a moment's peace.
"So how's the book coming?" Ginny finally asked, scattering another handful of seed into the chicken pen.
"Slowly," Harry replied. "Every time I think we're making progress I find out Hermione and Ron are trumping up my actions into some sort of heroic nonsense. Then I have to argue them down to something more realistic."
Ginny looked over at him wryly and said, "You do know that several of your actions were pretty heroic right?"
Harry groaned quietly. "Not you too Ginny, please!"
"Hey, all I'm saying is that very few twelve year olds have killed a basilisk with a sword," she replied. "And very few thirteen year olds have ever fended off a hundred dementors with a corporeal Patronus while time traveling.
"Sometimes Harry you're too modest for your own good," she continued. "It's good that you've got two friends to properly ground you; otherwise you'd claim you contributed nothing."
"Yeah, but I had a lot of help with all of it," Harry persisted. "And a lot of it wasluck."
Ginny snorted in brief laughter and said, "Harry, nobody alive is that lucky. If it was all luck you'd have to have been taking Felix Felicis every day for your whole life. You made your own luck."
"Yeah but—,"
"Look Harry, the three of you always managed to figure things out in the end. Why don't you stop trying to shout down their attempts to paint you as a hero and try to find a middle ground like you always do?" Ginny reasoned.
Harry couldn't find a way to think of a response to that, but he still wasn't convinced.
He'd been famous from birth, always believed to be some sort of hero, always perceived to be some sort of prodigy. "The Boy Who Lived" rapidly became "The Chosen One" and the entire wizarding world had looked to him, a seventeen year old boy, for salvation.
Before he could try and change the subject, a loud crack announced an arrival. He looked for the source and saw a rather hassled looking Mr. Weasley straightening his cloak and hat by the garden, muttering under his breath.
"Are you alright Mr. Weasley?" Harry called as he and Ginny put down the grain bags and made their way toward him. Mr. Weasley looked up and smiled tiredly.
"Yes Harry, yes. Another one tried to Apparate with me is all. I think I'm going to have to talk to Kingsley about them, this is getting ridiculous," he replied.
"I'm sorry Mr. Weasley. I really do think we should move back to Grimmauld Place. I don't want to keep putting you through this every day," Harry said. Ron and Hermione came out of the garden carrying a bundle of onions and potatoes and headed into the kitchen.
"No, no, it's alright," Mr. Weasley replied quickly. "Better to keep everyone together Harry, really. We just need to take proper steps, is all. We really don't mind Harry."
Before he could respond another loud crack was heard and Mrs. Weasley strode over carrying her special clock in one arm and hastily wiping away a few tears with the other. "Arthur, you're back!" she said loudly.
"Hello dear," Mr. Weasley said, giving his wife a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
"Well I best get started on supper then," she stated, a false brightness coloring her words. Harry knew she too still struggled with the loss of Fred. Though she'd no doubt deny it, Harry knew that Mrs. Weasley had loved Fred and George's antics.
Maybe not all of them, considering all the times she'd shouted at them since Harry had met the Weasleys, but enough.
A pang of guilt clutched at him again. His battle, his fault. All of them his fault. Lupin, Tonks, Fred. A vision of their lifeless bodies flashed rapidly in his mind for what seemed like the thousandth time. They'd given their lives for him. They were dead because of him.
Ginny grabbed his hand as they followed Mrs. Weasley toward the house and squeezed it. He looked up as she whispered, "Hey, don't you start thinking like that again Harry."
"How did you—"
"Think I can't even read your face after all this time?" she replied calmly. "Hermione told me about it. You think you didn't deserve their trust? You think you didn't earn their sacrifice? Voldemort's dead isn't he? You did what they wanted; you made their sacrifice count. They couldn't ask for more."
Harry didn't respond. He couldn't. He'd tried to explain to Ron and Hermione why he felt the way he did but they'd said basically the same thing. He didn't want to discuss it with Ginny too.
"Ah, Harry dear! Could you please help Ron skin the potatoes?" Mrs. Weasley asked brightly as they entered the kitchen, her eyes red from her trip to Bill and Fleur's house.
"Sure," Harry replied instantly, happy for the distraction. He moved off to the kitchen table and picked up a peeler. Though he and Ron were old enough to do magic, they hadn't had much time to practice the necessary spells to do the task magically.
Ginny and Hermione worked together with Mrs. Weasley, cutting onions and setting them aside for the soup.
The night wore on relatively pleasantly as they prepared dinner. They chatted about meaningless things, always avoiding discussing what was really on their minds. It had been like that for months. All the scars were still too raw to pick up where they left off.
The five of them worked together until after the sun had gone down. Harry could see by the light of the full moon that most of the busybodies had left from beyond the fence, leaving only a few dedicated souls behind to sleep in their tents.
The delicious smell of French onion soup, roast chicken, and scalloped potatoes filled the kitchen as they moved the dishes to the table. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny busied themselves by serving the others as they sat down at the table.
Harry waited for them to serve themselves before putting a spoonful of soup into his mouth. He smiled appreciatively and said, "The soup's delicious guys," he said happily.
"Thank you Harry dear," Mrs. Weasley replied, smiling. Ginny and Hermione smiled back at him.
"So Mr. Weasley, what's been going on at the Ministry?" Harry asked politely as they dug into their meal. They hadn't discussed the subject in a while. The situation had been too chaotic for too long to try and get any sort of coherent picture.
"Oh you know Harry, rebuilding," Mr. Weasley replied. "The other members of the Order and I have been busy picking up the pieces and rooting out those that willingly cooperated with the Death Eaters and relieving them of their posts. A lot of infrastructure was tossed out the window when Voldemort took over and we've been having a busy time trying to put it all back together."
"Any news on the Muggle-borns?" Hermione asked.
"Yes, some. We've managed to find a few families and help them back into their old lives," Mr. Weasley began sadly. "Unfortunately there are a lot that have simply gone missing and others that we're finding out didn't make it."
"How's Kingsley been doing as Minister Dad?" Ron asked, unsubtly attempting to change the subject.
"Rather well, considering everything he's been tasked to accomplish," Mr. Weasley replied more brightly. "What with the purge of collaborators from the Ministry, the chaos of a celebrating wizarding community, the dementors fleeing into villages, and tracking down Death Eaters that escaped the Battle, Kingsley's doing remarkably well."
"That's great," Harry said enthusiastically. "I always liked Kingsley."
The table lapsed into silence as they enjoyed their meal.
"Harry pass the gravy would you?" Ron asked after a few minutes.
"Sure thing," he replied as he grabbed the gravy tray and passed it along.
"So Harry, you wanted to know when the Malfoys were going to stand trial?" Mr. Weasley asked.
Harry looked up immediately. "Yeah I did. Did you find out?"
"I spoke with Kingsley about it after one of our meetings," Mr. Weasley replied. "Their trial was moved up a few days to make room for Dolohov and Yaxley's. It'll be tomorrow at 12 o'clock."
"You're kidding!" Harry exclaimed. He thought hard about this new information. There wasn't going to be much time…
"Alright, I'm going in to work with you tomorrow Mr. Weasley," Harry finally said, an air of command in his voice again. Almost everyone voiced their surprise at this fact.
"Why Harry?! You don't need to testify to see them in prison!" Ginny demanded.
"Harry dear there's really no need! You know what the press will do when they see you!" Mrs. Weasley stated, her tone concerned.
"Harry I don't think that's a very good idea," Mr. Weasley said skeptically, no doubt remembering the people that had been trying to forcibly Apparate with him.
Only Ron and Hermione kept quiet. Harry had told them what he planned to do and why. Ron had resisted categorically, but Hermione had understood and brought Ron around. He still didn't look happy about it, though.
"Mr. Weasley, I have a few things I want to say to them before their trial and a few insights to present to the Court," Harry explained. "We can go at separate times and I can wear my Cloak until I reach them. I really have to do this."
Mr. Weasley looked at him skeptically for a moment before he said, "Alright Harry. I can't stop you after all. I just hope you know what you're doing."
"Don't worry," Harry replied calmly. "I do."
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The next day Harry got up early to get ready. The sun had not yet risen as he groggily got dressed.
He didn't have any nice clothes other than the ones he'd bought for the funerals and they weren't exactly appropriate for the day's events. Most of his wardrobe had never made it to the Burrow the previous year; he'd left so much of it at the Dursley's.
Instead he put on his worn out Muggle clothes and trainers. Not exactly formal attire, but better than the alternative.
He put his wand into his pocket and shook Ron awake. Groggily Ron rose from his bed, muttering quietly under his breath.
Harry watched as he made his way to his dresser in a daze and started pulling clothes out at random. After several tries, he'd amassed the necessary garments to get dressed and the two of them made their way down to the living room where Hermione was reading a book on the couch.
"We should eat something before we go down there," she said tiredly when she looked up. "I can only imagine the stares, and worse, we'd get if we tried to get food while we were there."
"Good point," Harry said. "Help us whip something up, would you?"
They worked silently to make a simple breakfast together. The resulting egg, bacon, and toast breakfast was leagues better than anything they'd had the previous year and they ate it quickly and without conversation.
Ron speared his eggs ferociously as he ate. Harry knew he didn't approve of what they planned to do that day but he'd agreed to come along anyway. Hermione kept quiet herself, no doubt trying to avoid a confrontation before they even got started.
When they'd finished their meal and made their way out into the yard Harry said, "Alright. I think our first stop should be Kingsley's office. He'll know which cell they're being held in and can arrange the rest of it from there. We should be able to talk to him about the people hounding your dad too Ron, maybe come up with a way to get them off his back."
"Harry, you know we won't all fit under the cloak," Hermione piped in. "How are we going to get there without being spotted?"
"It's early enough that the place should be mostly empty so we shouldn't really need the Cloak going in. We'll wear it anyway though, just in case," Harry replied. "As for leaving, once the place fills up no one's going to notice a few pairs of disembodied feet.
"Besides, Kingsley may come up with something else while we're there," he finished.
"Can I just say how odd it is we're breaking into the Ministry of Magic again when we should be able to come and go freely?" Ron said grudgingly to no one in particular.
Harry and Hermione shared a look of understanding. "Alright, let's get under the Cloak and get moving," Harry directed the other two. He pulled his father's Invisibility Cloak out from his jacket pocket and tossed it over the other two. He carefully shifted it to ensure it was covering them as completely as it could and then took hold of Hermione's left arm while Ron took hold of her right.
The three of them turned on the spot in unison and Disapparated together. The feeling of being compressed on all sides, unable to breath and surrounded by utter darkness engulfed him for a split second but then he felt firm ground underneath his feet. They had arrived safely at the Ministry of Magic.
They stood in the designated Apparition area, in one corner of the deserted Atrium.
As the three of them made their way toward the lifts, Harry glanced all around the room, looking for any sign of people. His eyes fell on the statue in the middle of the room. It had returned to its original appearance; a witch and wizard made of solid gold, surrounded by several magical creatures looking up at them with reverence.
Harry had grown to detest this statue, almost as much as Voldemort's grotesque replacement for it. It was this very notion of superiority that gave rise to Dark Wizards everywhere. Without it, Voldemort would never have gathered a following as large as he had; he never would have been able to take over.
He looked away before that train of thought could distract him. A small anxiety took root in the pit of his stomach as he continued to look around. The room, with its dimmed lighting and empty nature, was so like another time the three of them had been here that Harry couldn't help but panic a little.
But he did his best to convince himself to settle down. Unlike that time, Voldemort was very much gone and was definitely no longer inside Harry's head, feeding him lies to convince him to walk into a trap.
Very quickly they drew up to the lifts. Harry reached out from under the Cloak and pressed the call button. The lift doors immediately opened to admit them and the three friends stepped inside. Harry reached out and pressed the button for the Minister's floor and watched the doors slide noisily shut.
The lift clanged into motion and the three of them felt it descend further and further, the polite voice announcing each floor as they passed. As it passed each floor, Harry noticed just how deserted the Ministry was as he looked through the grating. No lights were on and no workers passed through the dark of any of the floors they passed.
Eventually, the lift slowed, then stopped and the doors opened as the friendly voice said, "Level One, Administration. Incorporating Interdepartmental Liaison and the Office of the Minister of Magic."
The golden lift doors opened and the three friends stepped out. Unlike most of the previous floors and the entrance hall itself, this floor was most definitely occupied. The hallway they stepped into was abuzz with the muffled sounds of witches and wizards in their offices.
Harried conversations drifted through doorways and occasionally a young witch or wizard would rush out of an office and down the hall into another. Harry didn't notice a single older witch or wizard amongst them. Most of them looked like they were fresh out of school.
"Blimey they must be busy," Ron whispered, "Working this hard before the place is even open."
"We're going to have to be careful," Harry whispered back. The three of them instinctively crouched down to hide their feet beneath the Invisibility Cloak and shuffled quickly and quietly down the hall.
"Alright, it's this way," Ron whispered. He led the way down the hall, past several intersecting hallways. Of the three, Ron was the only one that had ever visited the Minister's office. He'd gone with his father there shortly after the funerals to visit Kingsley.
They'd walked only a few feet down the hallway when they heard a voice filter through a doorway ahead of them. The voice sounded so near the door that they slowed in case the person decided to exit.
"I told you Isabella," the voice said importantly, "Kingsley needs that Temporary Patrolling Situation report immediately! He can't plan the defense of outlying Muggle villages without it!"
The speaker opened a door to the left of the three friends. They immediately attached themselves to the wall as evenly as possible.
A voice came back from inside the office, "And I told you that that report is useless! By the time I get it written up the information is out of date and the report's obsolete! Kingsley knows this! Why do you think he stopped asking for them a month ago?"
"He's been really busy if you haven't noticed," the man responded from the doorway. "You can't expect him to keep up with everything. That's what we're here for," he said self-importantly. Before the woman could respond, the man closed the door on her and walked toward the lift. He passed Harry with inches to spare.
The three of them let out the breath they'd been holding and stepped back into the middle of the hall.
They made their way through the rest of the hallways, following Ron through several turns.
They'd traveled together under the Invisibility Cloak so often that coordinating their movements wordlessly had become second nature. A light touch on the arm or a slight nudge was all it took to communicate.
Even with the added difficulty of having outgrown its girth they managed to sidestep every other obstacle and office worker without incident.
When they reached the ornate mahogany door that marked the entrance to Kingsley's office, the door opened and the three friends quickly moved aside to allow a tired looking older witch past. Pinned to her rich blue robes was a badge that identified her as Kingsley receptionist. Clutched in her hand was a roll of parchment tied neatly with a maroon ribbon.
As she passed, Harry and the others slipped through the heavy wooden door into the office.
Harry took a moment to look around. In front of him sat the receptionist's large mahogany desk, intricate patterns carved into its edge with sturdy, curved legs reaching down to the floor.
On top of the desk sat two stacks of papers, uniformly arranged with one stack on either side. A small glass cup with several owl feather quills in it was placed neatly in one corner.
Directly behind the receptionist's desk and chair stood another doorway, this one made of a hard looking black substance that looked incredibly like obsidian but carved with all manner of impressive magical creatures. The longer Harry looked at it the more types he saw; several dragons, including a Hungarian Horntail, several thestrals and even a few hippogriffs adorned its edge.
Inside the frame stood a dark, oak door. Its design was plain but tasteful, letting the flowing grain of the wood decorate it with a minimum of man-made design. Every few inches a curve was carved to accent the grain, making the door look very much like a curtain of water flowing downward.
The walls were all paneled in light-colored wood and under their feet was a lush, pine green carpet. There were several high-backed stuffed chairs set along the edge of the large room.
"I did not know he had a dedicated receptionist," Harry whispered after he'd ensured the doorway was sealed and they'd removed the Cloak.
"Of course he does Harry," Hermione whispered back. "He couldn't manage without one, not with all the problems he has to deal with."
"I should have thought of that," Harry replied. He looked around quickly. "This complicates things."
His eyes fell on a blank notepad on the receptionist's desk. "Ron pass me a piece of that, would you?"
"Sure," Ron replied immediately as he tore off a piece of parchment and handed it across.
"Hermione, is Grimmauld Place still protected by Dumbledore's Fidelius Charm?" he asked her as he pulled out his wand.
"Yes," Hermione answered as she stared at the piece of parchment in his hands.
Harry quickly used his wand to write the address of his godfather's house on the piece of paper. He carefully avoided writing its significance as well, trusting the Fidelius Charm to prevent anyone who had not been told by Dumbledore about it from seeing the writing.
He quickly used a Temporary Sticking Charm to affix the parchment to Kingsley's door and said, "C'mon, let's get inside before she gets back."
He ushered the other two toward the door and turned the handle.
He'd half expected some sort of alarm to go off as he did so, given Kingsley's status, but there was none.
The three friends rushed into the room just as the sound of approaching voices filtered through the heavy door to the hallway.
Hermione pulled out her wand and pointed it at Kingsley's door as it shut and whispered a few spells Harry knew all too well. They'd been their choice means of avoiding detection while they searched for the Horcruxes.
The three of them relaxed marginally, confident that the receptionist wouldn't notice that she was being dissuaded from entering her boss's office.
When Harry turned around he took an involuntary breath. Affixed to the wall directly across from the door was a large portrait of the most recent Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore, Lupin, Tonks, Mad-Eye Moody, the Weasleys, and all the others Harry had seen pass through Grimmauld Place three years ago. He even saw the unmistakable moving image of Sirius Black in his dog form staring back at him seriously, the small piece tongue poking through his lips somewhat ruining the effect.
No caption adorned the image; no means of identification for those in it or of the Order to which they belonged.
He heard Hermione gasp next to him as well and he forced himself to look away. "I had no idea they had that picture taken," Hermione breathed.
"Now we know," Harry replied tersely. Just like the last picture he'd seen of the Order of the Phoenix, there were a number of people in that picture that were no longer alive; that had died in the process of fulfilling the Order's mission.
It was a depressing and somewhat disturbing fact and Harry did his best to avoid thinking about it as he looked around the room.
Unlike the outside office the room they stood in was not lavishly furnished. A simple, but comfortable looking chair sat behind a sturdy wooden desk. No plaques of achievement adorned the wall and no symbols of station sat on the cluttered desk.
In their place a large map of Europe covered one wall, small pins connected by gold string marking locations of dark magic activity. The heads of the pins were engraved with small pictures.
As Harry looked closer, he saw the unmistakable cowl of a dementor on one. When he looked around at the other pins, he saw Giant heads and small spiders and occasionally human faces on some of the others, as well as several other pictographs he didn't recognize.
In more than a few places images of surly looking wizards holding numbered placards were stuck at the crossroads of several golden strings.
As he watched, several new pins materialized, and a few of them were immediately connected to others by golden string.
On the desk sat a simple piece of engraved brass with Kingsley's name in large letters with the words "Minister of Magic" added beneath it in much smaller letters. His title seemed to have been added as almost an afterthought.
On the wall opposite the map stood a large Foe Glass and a small table with a full-sized Sneakoscope balanced perfectly on its surface. No distinct figures were visible in the Foe Glass, and a part of Harry felt a small relief at this fact.
"Kinglsey must not entertain many guests," Harry said dryly when he noticed that there was only one simple chair across from Kingsley's and the general lack of impressive-looking furnishings.
"Apparently not," Hermione said, smiling. She conjured three very comfortable-looking armchairs for them.
"You've gotten really good at that spell, Hermione," Harry said appreciatively as he turned his chair toward the door and sat down. It was indeed a very comfortable chair.
"Thank you," she replied as she and Ron turned their chairs around and sat. A patient silence stretched between them as they waited. Ron rested his head against his hand and closed his eyes.
"Harry," Hermione said after a moment, "how much do you plan to tell the court?"
"Not all that much," he replied. "Just enough to prove the Malfoys have recognized their mistake."
"But Harry," she said, "You know that some of your evidence comes from your visions. That's really not something you should reveal right now. You'd need to really explain it properly."
Harry looked across at her and said, "I know. But they all know I've been having them. Ever since Rita Skeeter published those stories in our fourth year, they've all known about them.
"I'll try to avoid mentioning them but if I absolutely have to I'll just say they are a 'result of unintentional dark magic on Voldemort's part.'"
The three of them sat in silence after that. They briefly heard the outer door open and close several minutes later. The sounds of the receptionist quickly moving about her space filtered through the door to Kingsley's office.
They stayed as quiet as possible, ready to spring into action should she try and open the door, but they soon heard the outer door close hard and the sounds the receptionist had been making disappear.
They had waited only a quarter of an hour after that when they heard the outer door open and close again, Kingsley's deep voice filtering through the thick oak door.
"Rolanda, please turn away any visitors for a while," they heard him say loudly. "I have some important guests to attend to right now. Could you also go and give this message to Arthur Weasley?"
"Yes Minister," they heard the receptionist respond. She sounded distinctly confused, no doubt wondering why she was being directed to deliver a message in person when they were so busy.
After a moment they heard the outer door close again.
"Alright you three," Kingsley said calmly. "Can I have my office back?"
Harry quickly opened the door while Hermione removed the charms from it.
Kingsley stood quietly outside the door. He wore deep purple robes and his single golden earring. He looked tired but somehow alert as well.
"Good call with the note," he began. "She was very perplexed by the blank parchment attached to my door when I met her in the hall.
"I'm not going to pretend to know why you felt it necessary to come here," he said as he strode through the door Harry held open for him, "but I assume you have a good reason."
Kingsley moved past them and sat down in his own chair. The three of them turned theirs back around and sat down again.
"It's a fairly good reason," Harry replied cryptically. Kingsley raised his eyebrows in question but Harry asked instead, "How've you been Kingsley?"
For a moment Harry thought he'd press the issue but then he said, "Extraordinarily busy. Far too much has needed my attention lately. Arthur and the other members of the Order have been hard at work finding the collaborators among the Ministry. It's been a very dirty task; as these things usually are. It's been a struggle to filter out those under the Imperius Curse from those acting of their own accord. False accusations and leads make the task very delicate but eventually a lot of seemingly good people end up on trial."
Kingsley paused to rub his face with his hands in an attempt to wake himself up. When he lowered them he said, "I'll only be able to stay here for about fifteen minutes and then I need to go chair a meeting on the progress of our various manhunts. So what did you three need from me?"
"We need to speak with the Malfoys before their hearing and I'd like to attend it," Harry replied.
"That can be arranged," Kingsley said, taking this declaration in stride. "May I ask why?"
"I have very good reason to believe they've genuinely seen the error of their ways," Harry replied. "But I want to make sure before I testify for them."
Kingsley raised his eyebrows in surprise. He looked to the other two, no doubt registering the look of grudging acceptance on Ron's face, and said, "I see. I assume you have a compelling reason for this belief?"
"I do," Harry replied confidently.
"Then I suppose I'll wait till the hearing for it," Kingsley said. "I'll be presiding over it after my other meetings. Wouldn't want to color my opinion before the trial."
He grabbed a piece of colored parchment and quickly wrote on it. After a flourish as he signed his name at the bottom, he tapped the parchment with his wand and it folded itself into a small paper airplane and flew toward the door where it stopped, hovering in place.
Ron quickly reached out and opened it and the airplane promptly flew out. He closed the door again as it passed.
"There. They'll be moved into a temporary holding cell two hours before the hearing. Those are down a level, by the old court rooms. But you'll have to talk to Francis Waldenberg first, current head of the Auror Office on Level Two. He's an old friend of mine, and he'll be expecting you." Kingsley said. "So how about you three? How have you been holding up? I've been meaning to check up on you but I just haven't found the time."
"Much better now that the press aren't breaking down our door," Ron stated darkly. "They keep trying to Apparate with my dad though."
"He mentioned that in the lift," Kingsley said. "I think I'll have to have a word with them about harassing government officials. How's the book coming?"
"Pretty well," Hermione replied. "We're just working on our outlines now. We haven't started work on the actual text yet."
"I can't deny I'm very interested in learning all the details," Kingsley said, a small smile spreading across his face. "When Arthur recruited me for the Order three years ago I was told that fighting Voldemort was going to be purely an adult's endeavor. I seem to remember Molly making quite a fuss about the twins trying to join."
"Some of us didn't have a choice," Harry replied dryly. "When the man himself marks you for execution and plans to do the deed personally, you can't exactly stay out of it because you're underage."
The sound of the receptionists return filtered through the door. "No, I don't suppose you can," Kingsley replied after a moment. "Still, you three did a remarkable job of it. I know I'm not the only one interested to learn how you managed it."
Harry tried to think of a way to change the subject. Kingsley must have seen him glancing about the room, because he immediately said, "I know you don't want to talk about it now Harry so I'm not going to press you for information. I'll just wait for the book.
"I just want to tell you how impressed we old Aurors, and the Ministry in general, are with you. However you managed it, we're impressed," he said.
"We had a lot of help and we were very lucky," Harry replied, trying to keep his irritation from his voice. He'd been saying the same thing to a great many people for a while, and he was getting thoroughly tired of it. "Besides, the master plan had been laid out by Dumbledore; he's the one that figured out how to beat Voldemort."
"Even so Harry," Kingsley said, "not many people can claim to have played a part in bringing him down, and none can say they did as much as you three."
He looked closely at Harry, no doubt seeing the way Harry's eyes glanced around the room and finally fixed on Kingsley's nameplate.
"That's all I'll say on the subject for now," Kingsley concluded. "Now, it's 5:15 in the morning and you've got an appointment at ten. You're welcome to use this office as a staging area or you can go up to Arthur's office on Level Two. It's probably better if you set up there since you'll be closer to Francis. It'll also mean you don't have to go sneaking through the building when it's truly crowded."
"I was thinking the same thing," Harry replied, rising from his chair. "Thanks for the help Kingsley."
"It'll be Harry's birthday in a few weeks," Hermione said brightly as she and Ron stood. She gracefully waved her wand and the three armchairs she'd conjured disappeared, "You should stop by the Burrow for it."
"I'll do my best to make it," Kingsley replied, smiling. "I have greatly missed Molly's cooking." He gave Ron a wink as Ron snickered.
Kingsley moved to the door and opened it slightly to look out into the reception area.
"Rolanda, would you come in here a moment?" he asked through the gap.
"Don't put the Cloak back on." he whispered at Harry. Harry didn't bother to ask how he knew they'd brought it.
Rolanda pushed open the door and froze in the doorway. "Oh my lord," she whispered softly, her hand clasped over her heart. "Mr... Mr. Potter! It's- How-"
She looked quickly between Harry and Kingsley, apparently at a loss for words.
Kingsley smiled kindly at her and said, "Rolanda, this is Harry Potter," he gestured needlessly at Harry, "and his friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. I've given them permission to use this office for the day. They're here on personal business and are not to be disturbed should they return here.
"They will no doubt appreciate your discretion regarding their presence here," he concluded.
"Yes..." she replied feebly.
She took a deep breath and straightened her features before she tried again, "Yes Minister. Of course sir."
She turned to look at Harry and hesitated. He watched her steel herself and finally say, "It is an honor to meet you Mr. Potter. If there's anything you need from me, anything at all, please let me know."
Harry looked back at her awkwardly and said, "Right, er, thank you very much. I'll, er, do that. Thanks."
He watched as the receptionist beamed back at him before she turned away and headed back into her part of the office.
When he looked back at Kingsley he saw that Kingsley was barely managing to contain his laughter. "You did that on purpose," he stated accusingly.
"Maybe," Kingsley replied, unable to keep the laughter from his voice. Ron and Hermione settled for keeping their laughter below the receptionist's range of hearing.
"I'm going to have to ask for a cup of tea or something now," Harry said. "I can't very well not ask for something."
"Very true," Kingsley replied, smiling. He looked at his watch. "Alright, I need to go speak with a few people before my meeting. When you're done with your tea, head straight up to Arthur's office. Don't dawdle though; every minute you spend down here the rest of the building gets more crowded."
"We know," Harry replied.
Kingsley offered his hand and Harry took it and shook. "I'll see you at the hearing Harry."
"See you then," he replied. The three friends watched as Kingsley left the office.
After a few moments Harry said, "Right. Well I better ask her for that tea now."
He looked at his friends as he said it. Ron was trying and failing to keep a straight face and Hermione had shoved her fist in her mouth to keep from laughing. He shook his head and opened the door.
"Excuse me, Rolanda..."