Power He Knows Not

by Peaceful Sunrise

When Harry sees Snape's memories, and discovers his fate, he is angry. Meeting Peeves on his way down, he comes up with a plan to destroy Voldemort once and for all...without the Deathly Hallows.

Hi everybody! This is my first story, obviously, and hopefully the first of many! Please review! Constructive criticism welcome!

My name is not J.K. Rowling, nor (alas!) do I own Harry Potter. Sniff sniff. But I do own the movies!

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The Power He Knows Not

And Snape left the room. Harry rose up out of the Pensieve, and moments later he lay on the carpeted floor in exactly the same rooms Snape might just have closed the door.

~Quote from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Chapter 33 "The Prince's Tale"~

Harry stared in disbelief. This was it? This was his fate? To die, so that Voldemort would as well, because he was the last Horcrux? All those years, all the things that had happened to him were orchestrated by Dumbledore, so that he would be "prepared" when he finally faced Voldemort! He had been played, just like Snape. He was starting to feel pity for the man. After all, having your enemy marry the girl you love, and having a child with her, then finding out a homicidal Dark Lord is after said girl, and becoming someone's lackey, just to save her, would make anyone bitter. Yeah, he was a right mean prat, but Harry honestly couldn't blame him.

Furious, he stomped out the door. Dumbledore had been right. If he died, he knew his friends would stop at nothing to kill Voldemort. That blasted prophecy! Those blasted horcruxes! So many people had died because of one stupid prophecy! Power he knows not indeed. Love? What was he supposed to do, hug Voldemort to death? That'd get him AK'ed before he even touched the man. Well, apparently, that's what Dumbledore wanted him to do.

Lost in his angry thoughts, Harry felt a cold shiver pass through him, and he turned around to see a dejected looking Peeves.

"Peevsie isn't happy." the poltergeist sang half heartedly "Itsy bitsy Death Nibblers blow up Hogwarts. Boom!"

He didn't even seem to notice Harry, so depressed was he. It was a truly shocking sight. Even at Dumbledore's funeral, he had been somber at best. Harry guessed the destruction of Hogwarts must be taking its toll on the normally mischievous spirit.

Hogwarts… So much had happened here. His first feast here, where he had argued with the Sorting Hat against Slytherin, visiting Hagrid, the troll in the girls' bathroom, his first Quidditch match, chasing after the Philosopher's Stone, flying Mr. Weasley's Ford Anglia to here, and crashing into the Whomping Willows, avoiding Gilderoy Lockhart at any costs, brewing Polyjuice, discovering the Chamber of Secrets, battling the Basilisk, and destroying Riddle's diary, the first Horcrux. Then in third year, a crazy Divination class, Buckbeak's appeal, Patronus lessons with Professor Lupin, the Marauder's Map, finding out the truth about Sirius' innocence, using the Time Turner to rescue both Sirius and Buckbeak. He even remembered their very first Defence lesson that year. On their way to battle the Boggart (Why did that sound like a title of one of Lockhart's books?), they had bumped into Peeves, and Lupin had used that nifty little spell on him…

That was it! A crazy, insane, absolutely mad, but the best plan he ever came up with, plan sprang to mind. But he would have to work quickly. Half a precious hour was already up, and he still needed to make all the preparations. Running quickly, he caught up with Peeves.

_o0O0o_

"I am about to die." Harry said, somewhat impatiently, as he watched the metal shell break open on the Snitch. Inside was the Resurrection Stone, and even as he turned it thrice over in his hand, four people materialized, not quite solid, but not quite ghost.

James was exactly the same height as Harry. He was wearing the clothes in which he had died, and his hair was untidy and ruffled, and his glasses were a little lopsided, like Mr. Weasley's.

Sirius was tall and handsome, and younger by far than Harry had seen him in life. He loped with an easy grace, his hands in his pockets and a grin on his face.

Lupin was younger too, and much less shabby, and his hair was thicker and darker. He looked happy to be back in this familiar place, scene of so many adolescent wanderings.

Lily's smile was widest of all. She pushed her long hair back as she drew closer to him, and her green eyes, so like his, searched his face hungrily, as though she would never be able to look at him enough.

"You've been so brave."

He could not speak. His eyes feasted on her, and he thought that he would like to stand and look at her forever, and that would be enough.

"You are nearly there," said James. "Very close. We are... so proud of you."

"Does it hurt?"

The childish question had fallen from Harry's lips before he could stop it.

"Dying? Not at all," said Sirius. "Quicker and easier than falling asleep."

"And he will want it to be quick. He wants it over," said Lupin.

"I didn't want you to die," Harry said. These words came without his volition. "Any of you. I'm sorry "

He addressed Lupin more than any of them, beseeching him.

"Right after you'd had your son... Remus, I'm sorry "

"I am sorry too," said Lupin. "Sorry I will never know him... but he will know why I died and I hope he will understand. I was trying to make a world in which he could live a happier life."

"By the way," Harry said suddenly "I need a little help from you. Do you remember that first Defence lesson, when we were walking to the staff room, and we came across Peeves?

"Yes, what of it?"

"I need your help on a little spell…"

_o0O0o_

He lay face down, listening to the silence. He was perfectly alone. Nobody was watching. Nobody else was there. He was not perfectly sure that he was there himself.

A long time later, or maybe no time at all, it came to him that he must exist, must be more than disembodied thought, because he was lying, definitely lying, on some surface. Therefore he had a sense of touch, and the thing against which he lay existed too.

Almost as soon as he had reached this conclusion, Harry became conscious that he was naked. Convinced as he was of his total solitude, this did not concern him, but it did intrigue him slightly. He wondered whether, as he could feel, he would be able to see. In opening them, he discovered that he had eyes.

He lay in a bright mist, though it was not like mist he had ever experienced before. His surroundings were not hidden by cloudy vapor; rather the cloudy vapor had not yet formed into surroundings. The floor on which he lay seemed to be white, neither warm nor cold, but simply there, a flat, blank something on which to be.

He sat up. His body appeared unscathed. He touched his face. He was not wearing glasses anymore.

Then a noise reached him through the unformed nothingness that surrounded him: the small soft thumpings of something that flapped, flailed, and struggled. It was a pitiful noise, yet also slightly indecent. He had the uncomfortable feeling that he was eavesdropping on something furtive, shameful.

For the first time, he wished he were clothed.

Barely had the wish formed in his head than robes appeared a short distance away. He took them and pulled them on. They were soft, clean, and warm. It was extraordinary how they had appeared just like that, the moment he had wanted them...

He stood up, looking around. Was he in some great Room of Requirement? The longer he looked, the more there was to see. A great domed glass roof glittered high above him in sunlight. Perhaps it was a palace. All was hushed and still, except for those odd thumping and whimpering noises coming from somewhere close by in the mist...

Harry turned slowly on the spot, and his surroundings seemed to invent themselves before his eyes. A wide-open space, bright and clean, a hall larger by far than the Great Hall, with that clear domed glass ceiling. It was quite empty. He was the only person there, except for… He recoiled. He had spotted the thing that was making the noises. It had the form of a small, naked child, curled on the ground, its skin raw and rough, flayed-looking, and it lay shuddering under a seat where it had been left, unwanted, stuffed out of sight, struggling for breath.

He was afraid of it. Small and fragile and wounded though it was, he did not want to approach it. Nevertheless he drew slowly nearer, ready to jump back at any moment. Soon he stood near enough to touch it, yet he could not bring himself to do it. He felt like a coward. He ought to comfort it, but it repulsed him.

"You cannot help."

He spun around. Albus Dumbledore was walking toward him, sprightly and upright, wearing sweeping robes of midnight blue.

"You!" Harry snarled. Dumbledore's eyes widened a fraction of an inch, as Harry grabbed his wand, and started throwing every spell, hex, or jinx he could think of.

"Harry, what is going on?" Dumbledore pleaded, dodging everything Harry sent his way.

"Don't call me that!" Harry snarled, casting a Bat-Bogey Curse, one which would have made Ginny proud "How dare you manipulate me like that? How dare you manipulate everyone like that? What gave you the right?"

"Harry!" Dumbledore said, and the sorrow in his voice was enough to make Harry stop "Please, will you let me explain?"

"Fine." Harry spat "Talk fast."

"I never wanted you to die." Dumbledore said sadly "I didn't discover the Horcrux in your scar until your sixth year, and when I did, I was horrified. I didn't want you to die. I never wanted to. I spent all my time trying to prove myself wrong, trying to find another way, but there was none, save for the path you have taken. Believe me, my boy, by the time I was absolutely sure, there was not enough time to tell you. I didn't want to use Severus like that either, and I know it cost him dearly to do what I asked, but I had no choice. Please, understand. If you were in my place, would you do the same?"

Harry scowled, but sheathed his wand, and released the spell. He knew Dumbledore was right, as always, and though he didn't like how he had been manipulated, it was done, and nothing he could do would change it.

"Don't think this changes anything." he warned "I'm still quite upset with you."

"Naturally, Harry, naturally." Dumbledore said "I would too, in your place. I know what I asked you, what I made you, do, was very hard, and I would not wish that on anyone, if I had the choice. I sacrificed you, I sacrificed Severus, and all those poor people who died because of decisions I made for the greater good."

"I understand why you did it. I forgive you." Harry said half heartedly, no longer angry, but still disgruntled "Just, I won't be naming any of my kids after you."

"That's all I needed, Harry." Dumbledore said "Your forgiveness. Now hurry, you have little time. You must get back."

"I can get back?"

_o0O0o_

"NO!"

The scream was the more terrible because he had never expected or dreamed that Professor McGonagall could make such a sound. He heard another women laughing nearby, and knew that Bellatrix gloried in McGonagall's despair. He squinted again for a single second and saw the open doorway filling with people, as the survivors of the battle came out onto the front steps to face their vanquishers and see the truth of Harry's death for themselves. He saw Voldemort standing a little in front of him, stroking Nagini's head with a single white finger. He closed his eyes again.

"No!"

"No!"

"Harry! HARRY!"

Ron's, Hermione's, and Ginny's voices were worse than McGonagall's; Harry wanted nothing more than to call back, yet he made himself lie silent, and their cries acted like a trigger; the crowd of survivors took up the cause, screaming and yelling abuse at the Death Eathers, until - "SILENCE!" cried Voldemort, and there was a bang and a flash of bright light, and silence was forced upon them all. "It is over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs!"

Harry felt himself lowered onto the grass.

"You see?" said Voldemort, and Harry felt him striding backward and forward right beside the place where he lay. "Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!"

"He beat you!" yelled Ron, and the charm broke, and the defenders of Hogwarts were shouting and screaming again until a second, more powerful bang extinguished their voices once more.

"He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds," said Voldemort, and there was a relish in his voice for the lie. "Killed while trying to save himself."

But Voldemort broke off: Harry heard a scuffle and a shout, then another bang, a flash of light, and grunt of pain; he opened his eyes an infinitesimal amount. Someone had broken free of the crowd and charged at Voldemort: Harry saw the figure hit the ground. Disarmed, Voldemort throwing the challenger's wand aside and laughing.

"And who is this?" he said in his soft snake's hiss. "Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?"

Bellatrix gave a delighted laugh.

"It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord! The boy who has been giving the Carrows so much trouble! The son of the Aurors, remember?"

"Ah, yes, I remember," said Voldemort, looking down at Neville, who was struggling back to his feet, unarmed and unprotected, standing in the no-man's-land between the survivors and the Death Eaters. "But you are a pureblood, aren't you, my brave boy?" Voldemort asked Neville, who stood facing him, his empty hands curled in fists.

"So what if I am?" said Neville loudly.

"You show spirit and bravery, and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom."

"I'll join you when hell freezes over," said Neville, and through the crack in his eyes, Harry saw Neville standing tall, and proud, and in that moment, he looked braver than Harry had ever seen him "For Hogwarts!"

"For Hogwarts!" the defenders roared back.

"For Harry!"

"For Harry!"

In that minute, while Voldemort stood, fuming, and fingering his wand, a flash of fire appeared, bright as the noon day sun, and a dark bundle was dropped into Neville's hands. Harry suddenly had a flashback, and he remembered the Chamber of Secrets, when Fawkes had come to aid him against the basilisk. Except this time, he had come to help Neville against his own snake.

"The Sorting Hat?" Voldemort said in disbelief, even as Neville jammed the Hat on, and as he did, a multitude of things happened.

They heard uproar from the distant boundary of the school as what sounded like hundreds of people came swarming over the out-of-sight walls and pelted toward the castle, uttering loud war cries. At the same time, Grawp came lumbering around the side of the castle and yelled, "HAGGER!" His cry was answered by roars from Voldemort's giants: They ran at Grawp like bull elephants making the earth quake. Then came hooves and the twangs of bows, and arrows were suddenly falling amongst the Death Eaters, who broke ranks, shouting their surprise. Harry pulled the Invisibility Cloak from inside his robes, swung it over himself, and sprang to his feet, as Neville moved too.

Whipping the Hat off his head, Neville withdrew something great and glittering from within it, and in one fluid motion, struck off the head of Nagini, who had been poised to attack.

Later reports showed that Voldemort's scream of fury could be heard all the way in Hogsmeade.

Even as Neville sliced off Nagini's head, the defenders of Hogwarts rallied, and came forth with a vengeance, attacking the Death Eaters with everything they had. No more Stunners or Body-Binds, but lethal spells that mowed down dozens. Harry saw Ron and Seamus get rid of Greyback for good, Flitwick take down Dolohov, and Neville, good old Neville, ridding the world of Bellatrix Lestrange forever.

"Longbottom!" Voldemort screamed, and Harry saw him point his wand at Neville, who was dueling with a masked Death Eater. The wand tip glowed green, and Harry knew he had to act.

"Protego!" he shouted, more to get Voldemort's attention, than to stop the curse. He whipped off the cloak, watching Voldemort's eyes widened as he turned to face him.

"Potter!" he spat "How is this possible? Where did you come from?"

This was too good an opportunity to pass up.

"Well, Tom," Harry said casually "When a man and a woman love each other VEEERRRY much, they do something VEEERRRY special together…"

"Harry!" he heard Molly and Hermione's exasperated voices.

"Potter!" Voldemort shrieked "How dare you taunt me?"

"Because I can." Harry said smugly "Your plan has failed, Tom. You have no more Horcruxes. Just you and me. Neither can live while the other survives, isn't that right, Tom? One of us is about to leave for good, and I'd rather it be me."

"One of us?" jeered Voldemort, and his whole body was taut and his red eyes stared, a snake that was about to strike. "You think it will be you, do you, the boy who has survived by accident, and because Dumbledore was pulling the strings?"

"Accident, was it, when my mother died to save me?" asked Harry. They were still moving sideways, both of them, in that perfect circle, maintaining the same distance from each other, and for Harry no face existed but Voldemort's. "Accident, when I decided to fight in that graveyard? Accident, that I didn't defend myself tonight, and still survived, and returned to fight again?"

"Accidents!" screamed Voldemort, but still he did not strike, and the watching crowd was frozen as if Petrified, and of the hundreds in the Hall, nobody seemed to breathe but they two. "Accident and chance and the fact that you crouched and sniveled behind the skirts of greater men and women, and permitted me to kill them for you!"

"You won't be killing anyone else tonight," said Harry as they circled, and stared into each other's eyes, green into red. "You won't be able to kill any of them ever again. Don't you get it? I was ready to die to stop you from hurting these people."

"But you did not!"

"I meant to, and that's what did it. I've done what my mother did. They're protected from you. Haven't you noticed how none of the spells you put on them are binding? You can't torture them. You can't touch them. You don't learn from your mistakes, Riddle, do you?"

"You dare …"

"Yes, I dare," said Harry. "I know things you don't know, Tom Riddle. I know lots of important things that you don't. Want to hear some, before you make another big mistake?"

Voldemort did not speak, but prowled in a circle, and Harry knew that he kept him temporarily mesmerized at bay, held back by the faintest possibility that Harry might indeed know a final secret...

"Is it love again?" said Voldemort, his snake's face jeering. "Dumbledore favorite solution, love, which he claimed conquered death, though love did not stop him falling from the tower and breaking like an old waxwork? Love, which did not prevent me stamping out your Muddblood mother like a cockroach, Potter, and nobody seems to love you enough to run forward this time and take my curse. So what will stop you dying now when I strike?"

"Just one thing," said Harry, and still they circled each other, wrapped in each other, held apart by nothing but the last secret.

"If it is not love that will save you this time," said Voldemort, "you must believe that you have magic that I do not, or else a weapon more powerful than mine?"

"I believe both," said Harry, and he saw shock flit across the snakelike face, though it was instantly dispelled; Voldemort began to laugh, and the sound was more frightening than his screams; humorless and insane, it echoed around the silent Hall.

"You think you know more magic than I do?" he said. "Than I, than Lord Voldemort, who has performed magic that Dumbledore himself never dreamed of?"

"Oh, he dreamed of it alright." said Harry "But he was smart enough not to risk it."

"You mean he was weak!" screamed Voldemort. "Too weak to dare, too weak to take what might have been his, what will be mine!"

"No, he was cleverer than you," said Harry, "a better wizard, a better man."

"I brought about the death of Albus Dumbledore!"

"You thought you did," said Harry, "but you were wrong."

For the first time, the watching crowd stirred as the hundreds of people around the walls drew breath as one.

"Dumbledore is dead!" Voldemort hurled the words at Harry as in the marble tomb in the grounds of this castle, "I have seen it, Potter, and he will not return!"

"Yes, Dumbledore is dead," said Harry calmly, "but you didn't have him killed. He chose his own manner of dying, chose it months before he died, arranged the whole thing with the man you thought was your servant."

"What childish dream is this?" said Voldemort, but still he did not strike, and his red eyes did not waver from Harry's.

"Severus Snape wasn't yours," said Harry. "Snape was Dumbledore's. Dumbledore's from the moment you starting hunting down my mother. And you never realized it, because of the thing you can't understand. You never saw Snape cast a Patronus, did you, Riddle?"

Voldemort did not answer. They continued to circle each other like wolves about to tear each other apart.

"Snape's Patronus was a doe," said Harry, "the same as my mother's, because he loved her for nearly all of his life, from the time when they were children. You should have realized," he said as he saw Voldemort's nostrils flare, "he asked you to spare her life, didn't he?"

"He desired her, that was all," sneered Voldemort, "but when she had gone, he agreed that there were other women, and of purer blood, worthier of him-"

"Of course he told you that," said Harry, "but he was Dumbledore's spy from the moment you threatened her, and he's been working against you ever since! Dumbledore was already dying when Snape finished him!"

"It matters not!" shrieked Voldemort, who had followed every word with rapt attention, but now let out a cackle of mad laughter. "It matters not whether Snape was mine or Dumbledore's, or what petty obstacles they tried to put in my path! I crushed them as I crushed your mother, Snape's supposed great love! Oh, but it all makes sense, Potter, and in ways that you do not understand!"

"Dumbledore was trying to keep the Elder Wand from me! He intended that Snape should be the true master of the wand! But I got there ahead of you, little boy ¨I reached the wand before you could get your hands on it, I understood the truth before you caught up. I killed Severus Snape three hours ago, and the Elder Wand, the Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny is truly mine! Dumbledore's last plan went wrong, Harry Potter!"

"Yeah, it did." said Harry. "You're right. But before you try to kill me, I'd advise you think what you've done... Think, and try for some remorse, Riddle..."

"You dare-"

"Yes, I dare." Harry said, tired of all this talking "Your last plan's backfired on you, and I must say, so has Dumbledore's."

"I have the Elder Wand, foolish boy!"

"Oh, that?" Harry laughed, almost derisively "Why go to all that trouble, finding the Elder Wand? I mean, it doesn't even work properly for you, does it, Tom? Because it was never yours in the first place!"

"Snape killed Dumbledore!" Voldemort yelled, spittle flying from his mouth, his face turning a lovely shad of magenta. He looked rather like a skinny, bald Uncle Vernon "And I killed Snape!"

"But Snape never had the wand." Harry smirked "It was Draco Malfoy who disarmed Dumbledore that night. And though I really couldn't care less if you decide to kill him, I'd rather you hear me out first. Guess who disarmed Malfoy?"

Voldemort's eyes widened. He looked down at the wand in his hand with disbelief.

"Impossible!" he breathed, then glared at Harry "So what you have the Elder Wand? I am still holding it, and my power is still second to none. What could you possibly do to me? What spell do you know that I don't?"

"Oh, quite a few." Harry said cheerfully "Haven't you ever heard, simple is best? This is a useful little spell. Please watch closely. Waddiwasi!"

With all the force of a bullet, several thousand wads of gum pelted Voldemort, all fighting for a place up his nose. Those that couldn't bully their way in went through his ears, his mouth, and when the rest couldn't fit in anywhere, they plastered themselves all over the choking Dark Lord, until he was wrapped up in a huge sheet of gum, arms and legs pinned.

"Who wants to make sure he really dies this time?" Harry asked the crowd. They all surged forth at once, casting spells willy nilly. It was Hagrid who finally got him. Jostled by the crowd, he stepped on something very sticky, which gave way with an audible crunch. Looking down, he saw the sticky remains of the once Lord Voldemort.

"Whoops."

_o0O0o_

"I don't understand." Ron said confusedly as they walked up to the Headmaster's office "Why'd you want to use that spell? I mean, honestly, I'd forgotten about it. What brought it up?"

"Peeves." Harry said simply "And Hogwarts. Oh, that's right. Peeves!" he called, and the poltergeist, who had been happily singing his own victory song, zoomed right over.

"It's widdle Potter!" Peeves said delightedly "Who made Voldy go mouldy!"

"Yes, that's what I want to talk to you about." Harry said, grinning "You gave me the idea for using that spell on Voldemort, so I'd like to thank you. If there's anything you ever need, pranking supplies, anything, just ask me. So long as it's reasonable, and not dangerous." Peeves' eyes widened.

"Wee Potter is Peevsie's new best friend!" he whooped, doing a somersault "But Peevsie will still prank Potter's kiddies though."

"I understand." Harry said "It's a ritual here. You're not a Hogwarts student unless you've been pranked by Peeves."

"Peevsie's new best friend is the bestest!" Peeves was literally bouncing off the walls.

"Just do me a favour, Peeves."

"Anything, for Peevsie's best friend!"

"Go cheer up the people in the Great Hall." Harry said, thinking of the morose faces he had seen "The war's over. People need to mourn, but they need some cheer as well. Just don't go overboard with it, ok?"

"Yessiree!" Peeves sprang to a salute, and whizzed off down the corridor. Harry turned back to his friends. Ron was grinning like mad, while Hermione looked like she wanted to scold him, and hug him at the same time. She settled for shaking her head.

Since he had last seen it, the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the headmaster's study had been knocked aside; it stood lopsided, looking a little punch-drunk, and Harry wondered whether it would be able to distinguish passwords anymore.

"Can we go up?" he asked the gargoyle.

"Feel free," groaned the statue.

They clambered over him and onto the spiral stone staircase that moved slowly upward like an escalator. Harry pushed open the door at the top.

He had one, brief glimpse of the stone Pensieve on the desk where he had left it, and then an earsplitting noise made him cry out, thinking of curses and returning Death Eaters and the rebirth of Voldemort…

But it was applause. All around the walls, the headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts were giving him a standing ovation; they waved their hats and in some cases their wigs, they reached through their frames to grip each other's hands; they danced up and down on their chairs in which they have been painted: Dilys Derwent sobbed unashamedly; Dexter Fortescue was waving his ear-trumpet; and Phineas Nigelus called, in his high, reedy voice, "And let it be noted that Slytherin House played its part! Let our contribution not be forgotten!"

Harry sat down on one of the chairs before the Headmaster's desk, suddenly aware of how tired he was. But he couldn't rest yet. He took out the Elder Wand from his pocket, and placed it on the desk where Ron and Hermione could see it.

"That's-that's the Elder Wand!" Ron said disbelievingly.

"Yeah, it is." Harry said "Take a good look at it now, because that's the last time anyone is going to see it."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"What're we going to do to ensure there's never another Voldemort?" Harry asked "Well, for starters, I'm going to get rid of the Elder Wand."

"But it's the most powerful wand in the world!" Ron protested.

"And how many people have died because of it?" Harry shot back. Ron was silent "It's going straight in the rubbish, after I snap it. Then the location of the rubbish will be put under Fidelius. And no one will be able to persuade the Secret Keeper to talk."

"What about the Resurrection Stone?" Hermione asked.

"I'm keeping that." Harry decided "I figure my godson deserves to talk to his parents at least once, and George never got to say good bye to Fred."

"I don't suppose there's any point in asking whether or not you're going to keep the cloak." Hermione said shrewdly.

"None whatsoever." Harry grinned "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Hermione groaned. Ron grinned. The next few years were going to be quite interesting.

~19 Years Later~

Autumn seemed to arrive suddenly that year. The morning of the first of September was crisp as an apple, and as the little family bobbed across the rumbling road toward the great sooty station, the fumes of car exhausts and the breath of pedestrians sparkled like cobwebs in the cold air. Two large cages tattled on top of the laden trolleys the parents were pushing; the owls inside them hooted indignantly, and the redheaded girl trailed fearfully behind her brothers, clutching her father's arm.

"It won't be long, and you'll be going too," Harry told her.

"Two years," sniffed Lily. "I want to go now!"

The commuters stared curiously at the owls as the family wove its way toward the barrier between platforms nine and ten, Arthur's voice drifted back to Harry over the surrounding clamor; his sons had resumed the argument they had started in the car.

"I won't! I won't be a Slytherin!"

"James, give it a rest!" said Ginny.

"I only said he might be," said James, grinning at his younger brother. "There's nothing wrong with that. He might be in Slytherin…"

But James caught his mother's eye and fell silent. The five Potters approached the barrier. With a slightly cocky look over his shoulder at his younger brother, James took the trolley from his mother and broke into a run. A moment later, he had vanished.

"You'll write to me, won't you?" Arthur asked his parents immediately, capitalizing on the momentary absence of his brother.

"Every day, if you want us to," said Ginny.

"Not every day," said Arthur quickly, "James says most people only get letters from home about once a month."

"We wrote to James three times a week last year," said Ginny.

"And you don't want to believe everything he tells you about Hogwarts," Harry put in. "He likes a laugh, your brother."

Side by side, they pushed the second trolley forward, gathering speed. As they reached the barrier, Arthur winced, but no collision came. Instead, the family emerged onto platform nine and three-quarters, which was obscured by thick white steam that was pouring from the scarlet Hogwarts Express. Indistinct figures were swarming through the mist, into which James had already disappeared.

"Harry! Ginny!" he heard Ron call, and the next minute, Ron and Hermione had appeared with their two children, Rose and Hugo.

"Ready for Hogwarts?" Hermione asked Arthur and Rose.

"Oh yes!" Rose said excitedly "I can't wait to go to all the lessons, I've read all my textbooks five times, I heard Professor Binns is really boring, but sometimes Peeves comes in and disrupts the lessons. I do hope he doesn't cause too much damage, but frankly, I'm more worried about James, Fred, and Louis, with all the mischief they cause…"

"Are you getting a sense of déjà vu?" Ron whispered to Harry. Harry just grinned.

"Guess what I saw!" James was running back towards them "Teddy's snogging Victoire! Teddy! Our Teddy Lupin! Snogging Victoire! Our cousin!"

"Yes, I'm sure we all know who they are." Rose said wryly.

"Pay up." Harry said smugly "I said start of Victoire's seventh year." Ron grumbled as he handed over several Galleons. Ginny and Hermione just rolled their eyes.

"Oh look!" Ron pointed at a family of three further along the platform "It's the Malfoys!"

"Poor Scorpius." Harry shook his head "Malfoy was high when he named him. I mean really, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy?"

"Well, stay away from him, d'you hear, Rose?" Ron said warningly.

"Yes Dad." Rose said casually, and Harry got the feeling that she would be seeking out poor Scorpius the moment she was out of Ron's sight.

"You'd better get on board." Ginny said hastily, as Ron glared at Malfoy "It's almost eleven."

"Right, bye Mum, Dad! See you at Christmas!" James bounded away before Ginny could get a word in edgewise.

"Dad," Arthur said nervously, as Harry gave him a hug "What if James is right, and I am in Slytherin?"

"Arthur Severus Potter." Harry said firmly "You were named after two men I greatly admire. One of them was a Slytherin, and probably the bravest man I know."

"But just say-"

"Then Slytherin will have gained a wonderful young wizard. It doesn't matter to your mother and I, Art. But if you really care that much about it, you can just ask the Sorting Hat to put you wherever you want. It takes your choice into account."

"Really?"

"Really. And if it still doesn't agree, tell it that I have some rather incriminating pictures of him and Augusta Longbottom's hat. That ought to do it."

Art looked at him in awe, but there was no time to further question him. Doors were slamming along the scarlet train, parents were bidding their children good bye, and the whistle was blowing. Art jumped aboard, and Rose closed the door behind him. Students were hanging out of the windows, calling farewells. Many faces seemed to be turned towards Harry.

"What're they looking at?" Hugo asked his dad with wide eyes.

"Don't let it worry you." Ron told him solemnly "It's me. I'm extremely famous."

Art, Rose, Hugo, and Lily laughed. The train began to move, slowly at first, then gaining speed, and Harry watched his son's face, alight with excitement, until the train went round the bend, and was no longer visible.

"He'll be alright." Ginny murmured.

"I know he will." Harry grinned "James might have the Map, but Art has the cloak. Hogwarts won't know what's hit them."

Ginny rolled her eyes good naturedly, and Harry smiled at her. Absentmindedly, he touched the scar on his forehead.

He had a loving wife, three children, who were his heart and soul, and the best friends in the world. His scar had not pained him for nineteen years. All was well.

That is, until the first letter from McGonagall, informing them that Art, and his new best friend, Scorpius Malfoy, had blown up Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

Fine