The eleven years after the Battle of Hogwarts are often referred to by the historians as my "Years in Obscurity" or my "Years in the Wilderness" or some other such nonsense. Idiots, the lot of them. At the start of those years I hadn't even completed my magical education, but by the end of those years I was the Head Auror of Great Britain and an Ambassador to the International Confederation of Wizards.

How did this rise to power happen? Do you think those exalted titles just dropped on my head from out of the sky? I can assure you they did not. It took a lot of hard work to get me to the ICW at such a young age. I will grant you that I didn't do all that work by myself, but it wasn't as easy as others have made it sound.

Nor was my rise without cost. Both to myself, and to those around me.

What initially got the Golden Snitch flying was a funeral and a great deal of Firewhiskey. The day after the Battle of Hogwarts we all gathered at the old Burrow (the ancestral home of the Weasley family) to bury poor Fred. Funerals. They're awful, aren't they? The only way to deal with them is to get drunk out of your mind, so that's what the younger generation did after Arthur finished with his beautiful eulogy on that warm and sunny May afternoon.

As we passed a third bottle of Firewhiskey around the table set up in the garden behind the Burrow, everyone was looking for a safe topic of conversation. No one wanted to talk about Fred or how his sudden death was affecting us emotionally, so a number of lame topics were offered up. Ron even tried talking about Quidditch until his brother Charlie slapped him upside the head. It was Percy of all people who came to our rescue when he mentioned the current state of affairs at the Ministry of Magic.

"So is Kingsley Shacklebolt really taking over as the new Minister of Magic?" Bill asked as he rested his scarred chin on top of Fleur's perfect blonde hair. (People use to say that Ginny and I were an attractive couple, but without question Bill and Fleur had us beat. They could have made a fortune selling erotic pensieve memories.) "Is anyone challenging him for the top job?"

"No, he is running unopposed," Percy replied. "The Wizengamot is scheduled to hold a vote tomorrow."

"Wait a second, the bloody Wizengamot is still running things in London?" I asked with a mixture of shock and horror. "They're the same ones who passed all those vile pureblood laws Riddle wanted, so why would they vote for Kingsley of all people?"

"Now that You-Know-Who is dead, even the hardliners recognize the need for new and more moderate leadership."

"And we are just trusting them to do the right thing?"

Percy shrugged his shoulders. "Basically."

"Well dammit, that's not good enough," I declared. (I've never been able to hold my liquor, and that afternoon was no exception.) "Those wankers in the Wizengamot almost shipped me off to Azkaban when I was fifteen years old. The only reason they didn't was because Dumbledore came in at the last minute, and intimidated Fudge and Umbridge. No, if we want real change we need a new Wizengamot. So how do we do about getting one?"

Everyone turned to look at Percy again, who puffed up under all the attention. "Shacklebolt could legally call for new elections once he is sworn into office, but the same pureblood candidates would just win reelection like they always do. Having the right surname and the right friends gets you a lot of votes in our provincial world."

"We could run our own slate of candidates," Hermione suggested as she nestled underneath Ron's arm. "We could publish a political platform promising several much-needed reforms. That should win us at least some votes from the average witch and wizard."

"And who would these candidates be?" Neville asked. He had stayed behind after the funeral because his grandmother was still inside talking with the other so-called adults.

"You and Harry would have to be at the top of the slate," Hermione replied at once. "And don't either of you start whining. If this has any chance of working the "Heroes of Hogwarts" will have to play your parts. No matter how much you both despise politics, politicians, and public speaking."

She was right—I was getting ready to start whining like an obnoxious teenager. Instead I shut my mouth and thought about the idea for a while. I had just killed Riddle, so I would never be as popular with the public as I was right at that moment. If I wanted to change things for the better, now was the time to act.

"What other candidates do you have in mind?" I finally asked.

"Our dad should run for a seat," Ginny offered. Even at that early stage she was encouraging me to think of her father as my father, but I didn't mind. It was impossible not to love Arthur Weasley. "And Mr Lovegood should run too."

Luna had been sitting next to me and staring off into space for the most part, but when she heard her father mentioned her gray eyes suddenly became razor-sharp. "Ginny, I think that would be a mistake. He almost got Harry, Hermione, and Ron captured by the Death Eaters."

"Riddle was after your father because of the anti-Ministry articles he was publishing in the Quibbler," I told her. "He was only cooperating with the Death Eaters to protect you, and I would never hold that against him. Or against you. No matter what comes, we'll always be friends."

"Thank you," Luna whispered as she began to tear up.

Everyone could see the poor witch's embarrassment, and it was George who came to her rescue. "I nominated Mundungus Fletcher for a seat in the Wizengamot."

Everyone laughed a bit too loudly at his poor joke.

"I'm being serious," George continued. "He's a pureblood, and he fought for the Order of the Phoenix during the war. Plus he's a thief, which means he would be a natural as a politician."

"Hestia Jones and Elphias Doge were also pureblood members of the Order of the Phoenix," Bill said. "Add them to the list."

Hermione really was writing down a list on a piece of parchment she found somewhere in her Mokeskin pouch. "What about Professor McGonagall?"

I nodded. "Dumbledore was the Headmaster of Hogwarts and the Chief Warlock at the same time, so that makes sense. Put her down along with Andromeda Tonks and Susan Bones. They both lost loved ones during the war, and serving in the Wizengamot would be a fitting form of compensation."

"Mrs Tonks should run as Andromeda Black," Percy suggested. "That is a name to conjure with, and it would win her a large number of conservative votes."

"Do you really think this will work?" Ron asked his older brother as he gently ran his hand up and down Hermione's back.

"I honestly don't know, but it's worth a shot."

Of course there was more to it than that. We went inside to talk to adults, who were skeptical to say the least. Especially poor Andromeda. Even so, Kingsley decided to broach the subject with the muggle Prime Minister during their first meeting at Downing Street later that week. It seemed that Tony Blair loved the idea of a more progressive Wizengamot, and he spent the next six hours giving Kingsley political advice. The new Minister of Magic then sent me a Patronus message, demanding a private meeting in Number Four, Privet Drive of all places.

"Why did we have to meet here?" I asked as we sat down on a park bench across the street from my childhood home. Being in the old neighborhood brought back a flood of memories—all of them bad.

"Because it's a place we both know, and because I don't want any wizards or witches eavesdropping on this conversation," Kingsley snapped. "Now are you and Neville Longbottom really serious about his scam of yours?"

"It's not a scam. And yes, we are serious. The Wizengamot is hopelessly corrupt, and it must change. If things stay the way they are, then another war will break out at some point down the road. You can't deny that."

"Potter, calm down. I think this idea of yours makes sense... in theory. But it's just that I don't see how we can win a fight on this kind of terrain. The pureblood families more political and economic power than you realize."

"We won the war. That should count for something."

"Maybe," Kingsley allowed as he leaned back on the bench. "By the way, I spoke with Narcissa Malfoy yesterday. She seemed convinced that you would keep her son and husband out of Azkaban. Why is that?"

I briefly explained how Tom Riddle had tried to kill me out in the Forbidden Forest during the Battle of Hogwarts. He then asked Narcissa to check if I was truly dead. Of course I wasn't, but she lied right to the face of her great Dark Lord. The witch did for her own selfish reasons, but that didn't matter.

"... so technically I do owe her a Life Debt, but I could care less about her son Draco. And as for Lucius... I'm actually looking forward to his execution. He certainly has it coming."

"Dumbledore told the Order of the Phoenix about his role in the Chamber of Secrets fiasco," Kingsley said. "But I have to be honest with you: if we execute Lucius Malfoy, the purebloods will revolt against my new government. Maybe not right away, but soon. Probably within a year or two."

"What if our new candidates are elected to the Wizengamot? Won't that make enough of a difference in the political landscape?" I asked.

"I doubt it. I've been studying the election laws since the funeral, and those laws are heavily rigged in favor of the incumbents. Even if everything goes our way in the polling booths, we'll still have less than majority when the new Wizengamot is sworn into office. I'm afraid if I want to keep my job I'm going to have to cut a deal with Malfoy and the other Death Eaters, just like Dumbledore did after the last war."

Those words filled my stomach with acid, and for one very specific reason. Lucius had almost killed Ginny during his plot against Arthur and his pro-muggle legislation back during my second year at Hogwarts. If Ginny had died, I wouldn't currently be having sex with her. Therefore Lucius deserved to die. No, Lucius had to die. In my mind it was a moral imperative.

I know. That sounds awful. Even to me.

All I can say in my defense is that I wasn't in control of my emotions. For seventeen years the only physical contact I had with other human beings was an occasional hug from Hermione, and a handful of snogging sessions with Cho and Ginny. Now I was having sex several times a day, and it was wonderful. (I would say Ginny and I were going at it like rabbits, but I have a feeling rabbits would've been insulted by the comparison.) It was clear to me—if no one else—that Lucius was still a threat to Ginny, and there was nothing I wouldn't do to protect my lover and future wife.

Nothing at all.

That was what was going through my love-addled mind when I apparated straight from Number Four in Little Whinging to Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire. There was a young Auror on guard duty at the front gate, which wasn't surprising since the Malfoys were under house arrest. He looked about twenty years old, which means we probably went to Hogwarts together. That didn't change the fact that the poor sod was in awe of me.

"You're Harry Potter," he said in a tone worthy of my number-one stalker, Romilda Vane.

"Yes, that's my name. Listen, I want to have a chat with your prisoners. A private chat... if you know what I mean."

"Understood, Sir. You were never here today," the grinning Auror said. He probably thought I was going to get rid of the Death Eater scum, which was fine by him.

I didn't even bother to knock at the massive front door. No, I simply drew Riddle's old phoenix-feather wand, and ripped the beautiful handcrafted antique off its hinges. Then for good measure I tossed it at a nearby marble fountain, smashing them both to pieces.

"Mr Potter, what a pleasant surprise," Narcissa said when she saw me standing in the wreckage of the Manor's entrance hall. She had no choice but to be a polite host, since the Aurors had seized the Malfoys' wands until their upcoming trials. No doubt the three of them had spare wands hidden somewhere, but casting a single spell would mean the end of their house arrest and a trip straight to Azkaban. "Would you care for a cup of tea? Perhaps a cucumber sandwich?"

"Yes, that would be lovely," I replied sarcastically.

We made our way to one of the Manor's many parlours, and were soon joined by Lucius. The war had left him a broken shell of a wizard, but his haggard appearance didn't incite any pity from me.

"Would you care for a lump or two of sugar?" Narcissa asked politely after an old house-elf deposited a silver tea set on the table between us.

"Do you honestly think I would drink or eat anything from your kitchen? In case you've forgotten, Hermione Granger was tortured by your sister Bellatrix in the room right down the hall. You also kept my dear friend Luna Lovegood imprisoned down in your basement dungeon. So no, I don't want any bloody sugar with my bloody tea. Where is your brat Draco?"

"He went out shopping for some new clothes in Diagon Alley with his Aunt Andromeda and his young cousin Teddy," Narcissa explained in a tight voice. "One of the Aurors went with them."

"And you figure if Andromeda pleaded her nephew's case, I would be inclined to listen to her because of my relationship with my godson Teddy Lupin?"

"Something like that."

"You Slytherins can be so transparent at times," I sneered.

My contempt finally roused Lucius from his stupor. "Potter, why did you enter my home without an invitation? And why did you feel the need to destroy my front door?"

I held up Riddle's wand, which I had stolen from his body only seconds after his death. I had earned it, and saw no good reason to hand it over to the Department of Mysteries. The Unspeakables hadn't been of any use during the war.

"Do you recognize this?"

"Boy, you may have the Dark Lord's wand, but you will never be his equal. I saw that duel in the Great Hall, and I know what really happened. Your victory was nothing but another one of Albus Dumbledore's cheap underhanded tricks."

Let's stop right here for a second, because I want to be clear about something: I am deeply ashamed of what happened next. But like I said, I was in love. And the image of Ginny lying seemingly dead on the floor of the Chamber of Secrets kept flashing through my mind.

I also kept seeing the faces of Fred and Remus and Tonks and even poor Colin Creevey. Worst of all was that green light of the Killing Curse as it emerged from the the Elder Wand. The fact that I had sort of died during the Battle of Hogwarts... well, let's just say that it left me with some unresolved issues.

With all this anger boiling-up inside of me, lashing out at the pureblood arse sitting in front of me seemed like the right thing to do. In an instant I summoned all of my considerable magic, and I cast a Cruciatus Curse so powerful it picked Lucius up off that green silk sofa and sent him flying across the parlour. His body hit the wall at such a speed that it left a hole in one of the talking portraits.

Of course the coward screamed like a newborn banshee, and so did Narcissa. That only made me more angry.

"Did you really think you were going to walk away unscathed like you did last time?" I snarled as I marched across the room. "Are you that stupid? Crucio!"

"You owe me a Life Debt!" Narcissa screamed as I tortured her defenseless husband, but she was too terrified to interfere.

Looking back after all these years I honestly can't tell you why I didn't turn Lucius into a drooling vegetable that day. Maybe I feared becoming a monster like Tom Riddle. Or maybe I was afraid of being sent to Azkaban and being separated from Ginny again. Whatever the reason was, I did stop at some point.

Lucius was still convulsing violently when Narcissa rush to his side. "Potter, you owe me a Life Debt!" she shouted again.

"I know, so this is what going to happen next: I'm going to allow your husband to do the honorable thing and commit suicide."

"You're insane," Lucius said through chattering teeth.

"Maybe, but then so are you," I replied. "You and your Master kept playing your ridiculous games, and you kept losing to an inexperienced and stupid Gryffindor like me. But now your time is up. Now you are going to pay for the many crimes you committed as a Death Eater. Now you are going to pay for almost killing Ginny Weasley."

"And if I refuse to do the honorable thing, as you call it?"

"Then I will burn down this Manor to the ground. And once that's done I will use all of my influence as the Boy-Who-Lived to have your vault at Gringotts seized and stripped bare. Finally and most importantly I will kill Draco right in front of you, and there is nothing you or anyone else will be able to do to stop me."

I made these threats with such absolute conviction that Lucius and Narcissa knew I would carry them out. And they were right to believe. The Harry Potter standing in their parlour was pretty much insane thanks to the Battle of Hogwarts.

"However if you coöperate than Draco gets to live, which means your precious Malfoy family won't vanish into the ash heap of history. Your descendants will have all the wealth you and your ancestors have stolen for them over the centuries. You just won't be around to see them grow-up. You know, sort of like how my parent James and Lily weren't around for me. This is a better deal than a criminal like you deserves, but I do owe your wife a Life Debt. And I swear to Merlin that this is the only way I intend to repay that Debt."

"How do I know you will keep your word?" Lucius asked. "How do I know you will be able to control the Minister of Magic? Shacklebolt is a powerful wizard."

"You were there in the graveyard when I faced your Dark Lord at the end of the Triwizard Tournament. You were there in the Forbidden Forest and in the Great Hall when I faced him again and again. My honor is not in doubt. What about your honor? Will you sacrifice yourself for your only son and heir? Or are you nothing more than the sniveling toady who kissed the feet of half-blood bastards like Tom Riddle?"

For several long seconds Lucius and I just stared at each other. Was he using Legilimency on me? I think so, because a look of resignation came over his face. He knew that one way or another his life was over. All he could do now was save Draco.

"Narcissa, go to the potion lab and get a vial of concentrated belladonna."

"Please tell me you don't intend to go through with this madness."

"You know the Dark Lord's many punishments during the war have destroyed my health. I will be lucky to last another ten years, and during those years I will be little more than a cripple. The belladonna will induce heart failure, and Draco will be none the wiser. Trust me Cissy, Potter is a Gryffindor with a Gryffindor's insufferable conscience. If I do this, he will keep his word and leave our son alone."

Out of some perverse need I stayed and watched. I watched as Narcissa wept, and I watched as Lucius drank the vial of poison. And I watched as the life slowly ebbed away from his eyes.

Afterwards I apparated to the rooftop of my old muggle school in Surrey. There I vomited up the contents of my stomach. To be honest it seemed like I was vomiting up everything I had ever eaten. Our Professors at Hogwarts warned us that using the Dark Arts corrupted your immortal soul. And only now—after it was already too late—did I finally understand what they were trying to tell us.

What an arrogant young fool I was back in those days.

There on that abandoned and dirty muggle rooftop I swore I would never use the Cruciatus Curse again, and I never did. Nor did I ever use the Imperius Curse. As for worst Unforgivable Curse of them all? As for the Killing Curse? I use that just one time... many, many years later.

But we haven't reached that part of my story just yet.

Draco, Merlin bless his empty little head, always believed his father had died of natural causes. The other Death Eaters and their families weren't so naïve. They quickly figured out the message I was sending: if the Death Eaters chose suicide their families (and their family fortunes) would be left alone.

Some wizards like Theodore Nott's elderly father voluntarily ended their own lives. Other had that choice made for them by their not-so-loving families. Gregory Goyle's father "accidentally" slipped on a wet dining room floor, and broke his neck. The Goyle family's innocent house-elf was starved to death as a punishment.

After a few weeks the worst of the Death Eaters were gone for the most part, but that didn't mean our political problems were over. Far from it. The "Next Generation of Evil"— as Hermione often called them—were just as prejudiced against muggleborns as the old Death Eaters, and they fought our political reforms tooth and nail.

Still, it was better than another war.

My campaign for the Wizengamot wasn't as bad as I feared it would be. That was mostly because of the presence of the new Golden Trio, as they later came to be known. There was Neville Longbottom, the tall and handsome and dashing hero who yielded the mighty Sword of Gryffindor in battle. And then there was Susan Bones, the niece of the Great Fallen Hero, Amelia Bones. She was so kind and pretty and buxom. And finally there was Hannah Abbot, who was even more kind and more pretty and more buxom. Everyone who met the Golden Trio that summer fell in love with them, and a year later when they began their odd triangle marriage no one raised an eyebrow.

Of course Ginny and I were also a great draw in public. Dozens of older witches told us how much we reminded them of James and Lily Potter, which was kind of creepy. Alright, it was very creepy. Like any budding politician I had to kiss babies in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade. Only I wasn't just kissing them. No, in the minds of their parents I was blessing their children with my magic. They treated me as if I were great Merlin reborn, and that fact was creepiest of them all.

There was also an endless number of speeches, which I hated. (And still do to this day.) There were mass rallies and free concerts by the Weird Sisters. The Quibbler became our main propaganda arm, but we still brought plenty of ads in the Daily Prophet and on the Wizarding Wireless just to be on the safe side. (Aberforth Dumbledore supplied the galleons needed to buy those ads—it seems that Albus left his younger brother a sizable inheritance.) Campaign posters of Neville and me were plastered on walls everywhere, which was mortifying. I couldn't wait for the nightmare to end.

When the dust settled after the election, the New Equality Party (Hermione chose the name) received sixty-five percent of the vote, which translated into just over twenty seats in the Wizengamot. The pureblood hardliners received barely fifteen percent of the vote. However thanks to a very corrupt set of election laws they also won about twenty seats. Don't ask me how they did it. Percy tried to explain the concept of a "rotten borough" to me, but I started tuning him out after the first couple of minutes.

That muggle poet Shakespeare had the right idea: "The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers". My thoughts exactly.

Now in those early days the Wizengamot had about fifty members in total, so what party did those other ten or twelve members belong to? They called themselves the "Independent Wizards", but in reality they were the wealthy business wizards of the magical Britain. They weren't barbarians like the old Death Eaters, but they still disliked the muggleborn. And they especially disliked the muggles, whom they saw as economic rivals they couldn't hope to compete with in a free and fair market.

"These wizards hold the balance of power in the Wizengamot, so we have to make peace with them," Kingsley told me a few days after the election.

The Minister of Magic never asked me how I dealt with Lucius Malfoy and the other Death Eaters, but he knew I must have done something. Now he wanted me to work my mojo again. But what Kingsley could never understand is that it was all just an accident on my part. I never had a master plan or a grand strategy. I went after Lucius Malfoy for purely personal lessons, and it was just blind luck that it worked out so well from a political point of view. I had no idea the other Death Eaters were so afraid of me, or that their families would turn against them. I guess the purebloods were tired of all the violence too, and they just wanted to live out their lives in peace.

Like I said, Kingsley didn't know any of this because I was too ashamed to admit what I had done out at Malfoy Manor. This lack of communication meant he expected me to pull another miracle out of my arse. I didn't handle the pressure he was putting me under very well.

"Bloody hell, I got twenty members of the New Equality Party elected to the Wizengamot. What else do you want from me?"

"Andrew Parkinson has invited you to lunch. I need you to go and listen to what he has to say."

"What will that accomplish?"

"I'm not really sure, but he is the richest member of the Independent Wizards. He's not their leader per se, but he does have a great deal of influence and I think the others will follow his lead. If there is even a chance you can make a private deal with him, you have to take it."

"What else can you tell me about him? Is he related to Pansy Parkinson?"

Kingsley gave me a sickly smile. He had only been the Minister of Magic for a month, but he already looked dreadful. "She is his only child."

Even I could see where this was going. "No, not in a million years. Not in two million years. Ginny and I are getting married. But even if Pansy was the last witch on Earth, there is still no way I would shag Draco Malfoy's sloppy seconds for the sake of bloody politics."

(I'm normally not that misogynistic, but in the heat of the moment that's what I said to poor Kingsley.)

"Parkinson is a brilliant and well-informed wizard. I'm sure he already knows about your relationship with Miss Weasley, so I'm betting that he has something other than a marriage contract up his sleeve. Just meet with him. And try to be polite, this is important."

"Fine, but don't get your hopes up."

In turns out Kingsley would have lost his bet, because a marriage contract was exactly what Pansy's father had up his well-tailored sleeve. Oh, Parkinson didn't just throw a piece of parchment down on the table when we met at an exclusive restaurant in Diagon Alley. No, he was a handsome and charming wizard with a gift for small talk. So much so that I found myself wondering if Pansy's mother had an affair with the late Professor Severus Snape. It would explain a lot, I thought.

After about an hour of chitchat and a delicious dragon steak, I started to get annoyed and decided to cut to the chase. "You invited me here for a reason Mr Parkinson, and I doubt it was because you wanted to discuss the next Quidditch World Cup or the ongoing repairs at Hogwarts."

"Please forgive me. I forgot that I was dealing with such a young wizard."

"Funny, you don't strike me as the type that forgets anything." That comment earned me a one of those slimy Slytherin smirks.

"As you may or may not know, my daughter was betrothed to Draco Malfoy. However because of Lucius Malfoy's recent death that is no longer the case."

"Why is that?" I asked. "For some reason Pansy seems rather fond of Draco."

"Because without Lucius' leadership the Malfoy family is finished as a power here in Britain," the older wizard replied bluntly. "My daughter will inherit one of the largest fortunes in Europe, and I have no intention of seeing that fortune in the hands of a political nonentity like young Draco. You on the other hand are a rising power in the our world. With the right backing—with my backing to be precise—you're sure to rise straight to the top."

That did make sense, in a Slytherin sort of way. Tom Riddle had been a confirmed bachelor, which meant marrying your daughter off to the son of the Dark Lord's second-in-command was the best deal available for any respectable social climber. Now that both wizards were dead, Parkinson was out shopping for a new deal. Hence this lunch.

"I don't know what Pansy has told you about our years together at school, but she hates me. And to be honest the feeling is mutual."

"That is irrelevant. My daughter will do as she is told," Parkinson said coldly. "And I'm sure you'll do what's best for your political future."

"Even if that means marrying a witch that I don't love or even like?"

"Harry my boy, marriage isn't about love. It's about producing heirs, and giving those heirs every possible advantage in life. As for your emotional and physical needs: that's what Veela mistresses are for. I have two eighteen year-olds on retainer, but I'm thinking about trading them in for a younger pair soon."

By that point my blood was running hot, mostly because the wanker reminded me of both my Uncle Vernon and Draco at their worst. But lashing out in anger like I had with Lucius wasn't an option, especially since we were sitting in a public restaurant. Nor could I afford make an enemy of Parkinson, since he controlled the bloody balance of bloody power in the Wizengamot. That meant it was time to improvise.

"I'm not marrying Pansy, but I'm willing to make her a part of my family. My sister-in-law... to be precise."

Parkinson wrinkled his nose in distaste. "One of the Weasley boys I imagine? That's not what I had in mind."

"Arthur Weasley was been appointed as the Deputy Minister of Magic, and he speaks for the New Equality Party during Wizengamot debates. And Molly Weasley killed that psychotic bitch Bellatrix Lestrange in a duel. I'm curious Andrew my boy, could you have killed Bellatrix Lestrange in a duel?"

He said nothing, which was an answer all by itself.

"The Weasleys may not be rich in galleons, but they are an intelligent and magically powerful family. From what I've seen of your daughter at Hogwarts, she has been blessed with neither one of those traits. Traits which are far more valuable than mere galleons in my opinion. Don't you agree?"

"You're not bad at this for a Gyffindor. Which one of these redheaded wonders do you have in mind?"

"Percy," I replied. "He was Head Boy at Hogwarts, so you know he's brilliant. He is also very ambitious, which means you two should get along just fine with each other."

"And if Pansy becomes your sister-in-law, my business partners and I will be left alone by the Ministry of Magic in the future?"

"As long as you don't discriminate against the muggleborn in your business deals, I don't care what you or your partners do."

"I will have to check with the others, but I think we can live with that type of laissez-faire arrangement. Personally I've found working with the muggleborn to be profitable at times."

Once I left the restaurant I went straight to the Ministry. There I found Percy buried behind a mountain of paperwork in his small office. Somehow I talked him into accepting the marriage contract.

Or maybe he talked me into it.

Percy understood the current political situation far better than I did, so he know what was at stake. Plus there was the fact that he would become one of the wealthiest wizards in Europe if he agreed to the marriage. That did make the bitter pill go down easier.

"I can't believe we're doing this," I muttered as the enchanted paper aeroplanes kept buzzing around my head. "I know that killing Riddle was a big deal, but why is it so important for a wizard like Parkinson to get his hooks into me?"

Percy laughed, which was a sound I hadn't heard in years. "You do realize that with Dumbledore and You-Know-Who dead, you are now the most politically powerful wizard in Britain?"

I bristled. "What about Kingsley?"

"He is viewed as a transitional figure at best. Everyone thinks he is just keeping the big chair warm for you."

"That's bloody great. Look, are you sure you want to go through with this? If you don't, we can just find another way to deal with Parkinson and his rich friends."

Percy put his hands behind his head and looked off into the distance. "You know, I think being married to a Slytherin might make my life a good deal easier."

"But Pansy?"

"Come on Harry, you've must have noticed how she strutted down the hallways at Hogwarts. School robes hide a lot, but not that much."

He had a point. Pansy was a bigoted snob—and she was no one's idea of a great beauty—but I had a feeling she be a delightful partner in bed. Or up against the nearest wall.

(Ginny loved having one up against the wall. Loved it. And some people still wonder why I married her.)

The marriage contract caused an uproar with both Mrs Parkinson and Mrs Weasley (and Ron), but Percy refused to back down. He and Pansy signed the paperwork with a blood quill on my nineteenth birthday. That's right. I was just nineteen years-old and I had already killed a Dark Lord, driven several wizards to suicide, founded a new political party, been elected to the Wizengamot, and sold my future brother-in-law off into marriage.

And these were suppose to be my Years in Obscurity?