A/N: This is not a new chapter if you read the first chapter before August 8th, 2008; this chapter is the second half of what was, before the eighth, the first chapter. I split them because I didn't like the precedent it set. Proceed to the next chapter for new material. Sorry for the potential confusion, and happy reading. And to those interested, I am a founder of another HP FanFiction site. Please visit us at w w w . f i c c i t y . c o m and enjoy a different league of FanFiction.

THE REPUBLIC

Chapter Two
Ten Years Gone

Fully dressed, a stack of speech-bearing note cards in his pockets, Harry and Ginny kissed once and, with a single pop, Disapparated to Hogwarts.

For the event, Apparation restrictions had been relaxed to the point of nonexistence on the grounds, where the speech was to be held. The castle itself, because students still inhabited it, was still resolutely out of bounds for all Apparation.

A few estimates had been given to Harry on who and how many would be attending the tenth anniversary of the Fall. The day was a national holiday in Britain; all businesses were closed for the day, Hogwarts was not in session, and all nonessentials had the day off at the Ministry. Portkeys had been set up around the country for witches and wizards who wished to journey to Hogwarts for the ceremony. Although the population of Wizarding Britain had skyrocketed since the Fall, figures from the Ministry of Magic put attendance estimates at around ten thousand, which included foreign dignitaries from virtually every magical government.

When Harry and Ginny arrived, however, it became very clear that the estimate of ten thousand was nowhere close. It was a little after eight in the morning, but there had to be nearly thirty thousand people in attendance. And the ceremonies were not to begin for another few hours. A decade ago, when what happened next occurred, Harry would have Disapparated on the spot and never looked back.

Harry and Ginny had Apparated right before the gates of Hogwarts. Standing at those gates, dressed in black robes and with his hair slicked, was a thin-looking Neville Longbottom. It took a moment for his scanning eyes to find he keynote speaker, but when he did, a grin overcame his face.

"Harry! Ginny!" shouted their old Hogwarts comrade. Harry and Ginny smiling politely, not recognizing him in his matured and thinner guise, as he rushed over and threw his arms around them both. "It's me!" he said with glee. "Neville!"

It was then that Harry's polite smile became a fond grin. "Neville, you look fantastic! How've you been?"

Harry did not get to hear the answer. When their names had been shouted, a dozen faces turned to see if it was the Harry whose name had been called. A third of those people decided it was. One by one, as word spread through the enormous crowd, a great roar grew, a crescendo of hysterics overcame the crowd. The clamour of thirty thousand voices rejoicing shook the earth.

Smiling at the absurdity, Harry shouted to Neville unheard that he should find him later and they'd have a talk. He then silently cast the voice amplification charm on himself, the volume rising and rising, and then, with a thundering voice, he muttered "Thank you."

The crowd silenced.

"If you all would be very kind," he continued, "Ms. Weasley and I must be getting to the castle."

He smiled. "But before we do, would you all do that roar thing just one more time?"

Shouts and cheers and screams and yells overwhelmed the grounds. Amused, but suddenly concerned for the welfare of the castle, Harry spoke again. "Thank you. Now, we must speak with the Headmistress, but we'll be back in a bit. Try not to stampede."

He undid the charm, joined hands with Ginny, who gave him a whack on the shoulder for nearly shattering the castle's windows, and the two walked up to the great doors, a path of people clearing their way with every step. It was an awkward walk. For the first time in a decade, he had to deal with more than a few people staring at a time. A decade ago, he would be running away. But now, fame filled him with a sort of nostalgia. He had lived a completely mundane life for the last ten years; his girlfriend certainly didn't regard him as some sort of rockstar.

He had intentionally left celebrity a decade ago. Initially, it had been to relax after a year in hiding, to spend time with his girlfriend, who never did finish her Hogwarts education. Although the Weasleys had objected, although Hermione had insisted that they all go back to Hogwarts, although Mrs Weasley was still bitter, Ginny had gotten essentially the same education she would have. Harry had taken it on himself to be lover, friend, parent, and teacher all rolled into one for Ginny, as was she for him.

There came a point, however, after three months in their secret home, that he might have returned to the world. He had recovered physically, mentally, emotionally from the events of the last year; Ginny would have been allowed to finish her education at Hogwarts. But a late night by the fire convinced him and Ginny it would be best to remain where they were.

For one, to return was dangerous. In the immediate aftermath of the second war, a lot of people had lost their fortunes and pride with Voldemort's Fall. A sort of vacuum had created itself; every minor Death Eater and aspiring dark wizard was suddenly in as viable a position as any other for the spot of new Dark Lord. What better way to ascend to that highest position than to kill the killer of the previous title-holder? It was dangerous for him, for Ginny, for everyone associated with him or who might be near him when the attack came.

For another, they thought it better that the Wizarding World be given its saviour in thought and not flesh. Men had flaws, could let the world down. Reporters the world over would act much the same way as aspiring dark wizards; any reporter looking to make a name for himself would go digging for the sort of scandal one doesn't recover from, and why would he care if it was an invented scandal? His character and the morale of Wizarding Britain were better for his absence.

For yet another, the two of them would never have this sort of privacy again. They were very nearly the only ones in the world who knew where they were; the house was under the protection of the Fidelius Charm, the only people who had ever entered the home but they themselves were Ron and Hermione. The other Weasleys had protested this, but eventually came to accept that all family gatherings would have to be held at the Burrow. Harry and Ginny knew well that if they ever left the safety of their sanctuary, they would be subject to constant harassment at the hands of both common citizens hoping for a glimpse of the famous Harry Potter and the photographers and journalists frothing at the mouth for the front page.

Walking into it, Harry was stuck by just how like his memory of it the Great Hall was. The sky above was the same slate grey as outside, the same slate grey Harry saw all too often in the old days.

For the run-up to the ceremonies, the Great Hall served as a kind of VIP room. Standing in a corner, speaking with serious looks on their faces, were the German and French Ministers for Magic; against the opposite wall was a tall, blonde-haired man Harry recognized as the American President of Magic, looking about the room with a drink in his hand. But the group toward whom Harry and Ginny were walking were the ones at the back of the room. Standing before the Head Table were Ron and Hermione Weasley, Arthur Weasley, Bill and Fleur Weasley, Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Headmistress McGonagall.

All of them having been talking, when one saw the couple of the hour approaching, they all stopped. Smiles broke across all faces but McGonagall's, though he could see a slight twitch of the corners of her mouth.

Harry and Ginny went about greeting people. He said to Kingsley Shacklebolt, extending his hand, "Hello, Minister; how are you this morning?"

"A bit worse for wear, Harry, but it's good to see you; I've been working at all hours trying to get the Wizengamot to approve the expansion of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement." He smiled, "I don't suppose you would be willing to help us out with that?"

Harry gave a smile and a small laugh, "We'll talk later, Minister; after the speech. How long will you be here at Hogwarts?"

"I've been invited to eat here tonight, so if nothing comes up, I'll be here until after that."

"Excellent, we'll talk then, Minister."

Kingsley smiled and Harry turned his attention to McGonagall. A decade as Headmistress had aged her thirty years. Perhaps it was the stress of the day, but she looked ill. He greeted her and they talked for a moment before Harry turned his attention to the Weasleys.

"Arthur," he said, shaking the man's hand, "how are you?" A few years ago, Mr. Weasley had insisted that Harry call him Arthur; there were too many Mr. Weasleys about for the term to have any sort of particular man attached to it.

"I am perfectly well, Harry; I found a rubber duck in a Muggle market the other day. I'm three short of a flock now." The man smiled broadly. "Been taking care of my daughter, Harry?"

"She's been taking care of me, more like," he smiled.

"Molly will be coming along later;" he explained, "she's got the grandchildren at the moment. I'd try to avoid talking with her too much, were I you, Harry." He smiled. "She's been talking a lot lately about wanting you to make my daughter an honest woman."

Harry laughed, but took note; there was no point in having a conversation like that with Molly Weasley.

"She mentioned just last night that she thinks you're a good enough young man that you haven't..." Mr. Weasley's voice trailed off. "That you haven't made her a, erm, dishonest woman."

Harry smiled. "In ten years in a little house no one knows about, with no-one but her for company and very little contact with the outside world? No, no, of course not, sir."

Mr. Weasley smiled and gave a knowing nod. "Molly will be very happy."

Harry smiled, then turned his attention to Bill and a modestly pregnant Fleur. They exchanged the usual pleasantries, Harry congratulated them on their pregnancy, and asked how they would be celebrating their eldest daughter's ninth birthday, which was that day. Bill explained that they had held a party for her the day before. She would be coming along with Molly and her other grandchildren later on, but before the speech.

Harry gave a hug to Hermione and pecked her cheek in greeting.

"Did you see how many people are out there, Harry?" she asked, clearly nervous. Perhaps, even, more nervous than he was. "The Ministry said they didn't expect more than ten thousand the entire day. There were twenty thousand out there an hour ago!"

Harry smiled and laughed. "That number's gone up. I'd guess close thirty-thousand when I came in here."

"But Harry—thirty thousand people? In Hogwarts? The speech isn't for three hours! What will the numbers be then? Hogwarts isn't a sports arena, Harry!"

"It'll be fine, Hermione!" Harry laughed. "There are only thirty thousand witches and wizards in all of Britain, only two hundred thousand in all of Europe, only one million worldwide. We won't get much more than another few thousand people here."

"But Harry — I don't care about Hogwarts' capacity, it will take care of itself, but Harry you're going to be speaking to thirty thousand people!"

He paled a little. "Oh. Well, yes." He hadn't actually thought of that. Thirty thousand people was quite a lot. A decade ago, the single thought on his mind would have been that he would mess up the speech. But now he was more concerned. Exactly what was everyone expecting? They knew, didn't they, that this was primarily a memorial service; the celebrations for ten years' peace was not to be held here. This was primarily a solemn day.

"There are thirty thousand people here, Harry, and they've all come to see you. Every last one."

He swallowed. "Thanks, Hermione."

Three hours later, with noon rapidly approaching, an unofficial count from the British Ministry of Magic had attendance hovering just over thirty-two thousand. The ceremonies would begin soon. The unexpected numbers had forced a change of venue, to the Quidditch pitch. It had been intended that the speakers would address the crowd from a platform erected on the grounds, near Dumbledore's tomb. With help from the WWN, who were already on hand to broadcast the festivities, special magical loudspeakers were set up in various parts of the Hogwarts grounds, as it very quickly became apparent that thirty-one thousand people would not fit in the Quidditch stadium alone.

Kingsley Shacklebolt was to present the ceremony that day. There had been some speculation in the press that the Minister was less than overjoyed to be introducing Harry, that the Minister had begun to resent the saviour since the extraordinarily popular Potter for Minister campaign, false though it had been, and that being less than the main attraction for the day did not sit well with him.

Despite these rumours, all said to descend from 'an aide to the Minister,' his preamble was very genuinely delivered and he conducted himself in a fittingly solemn and well-spoken manner. Harry watched it from a small, heavily guarded area immediately in front of the stage, along with his girlfriend, her entire family, and about thirty other dignitaries from around the world.

Because he and Ginny had disappeared shortly after his relatively campaign-less ascension, Harry had never really had an opportunity to see Kingsley speak. What he saw now did not particularly impress him. He was very still at the podium. There were no empathic gestures to his delivery; indeed, even his words themselves seemed somewhat passionless. His voice did not rise or fall, his pace was calm and unwavering. He seemed detached.

He reflected, however, that perhaps this relative stoicism was what his country needed. What want did Wizarding Britain have, at least in the immediate aftermath of the Fall, for energetic, verbally abrasive leaders? What the country had wanted then, and still wanted now, was peace, and the calm manner of Kingsley Shacklebolt certainly gave the impression that he was a man who could maintain serenity in a chaotic world.

Harry did have to grant him, however, that he certainly was able to captivate an audience; perhaps it was the solemnity of the day, but the Minister's voice was the only thing he could hear in the stadium, which was commendable, given the number of children in attendance.

"The man I am about to introduce to you now," said the Minister, "is the only reason any of us are here today; he is the only reason we breathe, the only reason I even stand. He is known by many names. As a child, he was the Boy Who Lived; at sixteen he was declared the Chosen One; at the age of seventeen, he defeated the man whose death we celebrate today to earn the title Saviour. To all here assembled, to all across the globe, to all who can hear my voice, to all who cannot, to all you living and all you dead, I give you Harry Potter."

The deafening roar that followed, that engulfed both country and continent, was something none who heard it would ever forget. To the sound of thirty-thousand shouting, screaming, cheering voices, Harry rose from his seat, giving Ginny one last squeeze of the hand, and climbed the steps to top the stage.

Crossing the stage to its centre, Harry shook Kingsley's hand, attempting to shout a crowd-drowned thanks, and took to the podium. Gripping its sides with his hands, he steeled himself and looked out into the endless sea of spectators, shouting wildly, many with their hands in the sky. With a deep breath, he silently cast the Amplification Charm and spoke to the world.

"Ten years gone..."