Author's note: Thank you very much for the reviews. I'm still so very, very sorry for writing this. Also, question regarding the length of the chapters. This one is a bit longer than the previous ones because I'm having so much fun writing this it's like I'm Bruce Willis and MS Word is a building full of terrorists, mind if I start writing longer chapters(around 4000 words) or would that be too long?

A few minutes after Harry had laid the smackdown on Malfoy, the crowd was still celebrating, Harry's arm was still raised high up in the air to acknowledge his cheers, Ron Weasley still watched the entire scene with his mouth hanging open like Christmas had come early, and Malfoy was still on the ground, splashing his body around like a worm, trying to get up but utterly failing to do so.

Then, the music everyone had come to associate with Harry abruptly stopped playing. Taking its place, the Hogwarts anthem started to play. Harry recognized that situation. It had happened many times with his father. An authority figure was coming. It was Dumbledore, who the crowd graciously opened up a path for, his wand raised and pointed towards his own mouth. The school anthem still played when he spoke, but his magically amplified voice drowned it out under its magnificent presence.

"Holla, holla, holla," he began, looking at the ground. Absolutely nobody in the hall knew what those words meant, and yet they carried so much more meaning than any class they had attended. Raising his head up high, right hand holding his wand close to his face, left hand extended towards Harry, opened as if he were holding an invisible book with it, "Harry, I appreciate your spirit to be a man of the people. It is a very honourable thing to do, you know. Not to fight in the darkness, but under the spotlight."

"But?" asked Harry, raising his eyebrow. "Save it, Santa Claus. The Harry has danced this dance in his head a thousand times, and The Harry's dad taught him that when the funky man with the theme song comes out, you need to be ready for whatever crap he's gonna make you do. So what? Do I have to fight werewolves or something?"

"Now, relax Harry," said Dumbledore, using his free hand to do a stopping motion. "I'm not here to punish you. While it is normally against the rules to, as you said it, lay the smackdown on students, I believe this is a special occasion. You are the one who brought peace to the wizarding world, and I think that means you are also the one who should be able to bring it."

"It being the electrifying action only The Harry can bring," smirked Harry.

"Correct. Needless to say, you and Mr. Malfoy don't seem like you are going to get along. But I can't tolerate unauthorized violence in the school. Therefore, I have officially sanctioned a duel between you and Mr. Malfoy to take place on Halloween Night!" The students erupted into cheers. Dumbledore had never authorized a duel between students before. "But there is more, wizards! It's going to be a tag team duel!"

If the crowd of students had gone crazy before, then this time they had completely given up any chance of ever becoming fully functional human beings again. They screamed, they cheered, they chanted, and Dumbledore's name echoed throughout the school. The teachers stood and watched speechless, feeling like they had forgotten to attend a very important meeting that would have made the scene before them make complete sense.

"You are a good man," said Harry, surprised. "I couldn't see your face under that beard, so I assumed you were wearing those fancy women's shoes under those robes. I see it isn't like that."

"No offense taken,"said Dumbledore, accepting the unspoken and nonexistent apology. "Now, who will your partner be?"

"I'll do it!" said Ron Weasley, pushing his way through the crowd and stumbling towards Harry. "Let me be your tag partner!"

Harry regarded Ron with a careful expression, trying to make sure he possessed all the qualities one needed to be his tag partner in a duel of wizards. Then, realizing he had absolutely no idea what qualities one needed to be his tag partner in a duel of wizards, he nodded.

"The Harry says yes."

"Did you hear that? He's my brother! The Harry's tag duel partner is my little brother!" screamed Percy, to a bunch of Gryffindor girls who jumped up and down in response to the announcement.

"Wonderful," said Dumbledore, now turning to Malfoy, whose sidekicks had now helped him to his feet. "Mr. Malfoy?"

"Crabbe," he responded, nodding towards one of the boys helping him to his feet. "I won't forget this, Potter. I'll humiliate you. My family has the purest blood in this entire school. Our blood is purer than—"

"You don't need to tell us what your blood is like, Malfoy. I'll make sure that the entire school can see it dripping out of your skull after I'm done with you!" screamed Harry, gesturing furiously at Malfoy. "Let me tell you how our fight is gonna go. If The Harry hits you, he'll kill you. If he misses, the wind behind the punch will give you pneumonia and you'll die anyway, so the choice is yours jabroni. Both ways end with The Harry sticking your head so far up your ass you are gonna have to cut holes in your nipples to be able to see."

Malfoy wanted to say something in comeback, but perhaps because he couldn't think of anything even remotely as cool as what Harry had just said, perhaps because the cheers were now so loud nobody would even let him talk, he did as he was told and took his jabroni ass out of the way. They would settle this on Halloween.

"I'm not sure this is such a good idea Albus," said Professor McGonagall, biting her lips. She didn't look like she had gotten much sleep. "Harry is just a child. We can't erase the damages his adoptive father caused him, but we can work hard to make him into a better man."

Dumbledore didn't reply immediately. He rose to his feet, hands behind his back, and paced toward the window. He calmly observed the rain crashing down from the sky, as if heaven itself were wetting itself in fear of what would soon follow. Then, with a kind smile, "My dear Professor McGonagall, I don't think Harry is truly that much worse than his father was at his age."

"I'm not sure comparing him to that brute will convince me, Albus," she snapped at him.

Dumbledore chuckled. "I was referring to James Potter, not his adoptive father."

"Oh." It was clear that McGonagall's mind couldn't be further from James Potter, because her face contorted in disgust as she realized how Harry's adoptive father was not so different from his biological one. "Even so, we have never endorsed violence in this school. James wasn't a violent person, if he was prone to, well, being as dramatic as Harry."

"He would have, had we given him the chance to do so," Dumbledore pointed out.

"That is the problem!" screamed McGonagall, loudly stomping her feet as she got to her feet. "We are supposed to educate young wizards into becoming respectable adults. Have you forgotten that? Why are we endorsing this...this..abominable violence?"

"You surely can't be implying that kids didn't have duels to settle their differences when you were at Hogwarts," he winked at her. "I have seen many of those during my time."

"Of course," she admitted, reluctantly. "But those duels happened in spite of the school's efforts, not because of them!"

"Times change," said Dumbledore kindly. "Because Harry was raised by the most electrifying man, he has a power that we may need to use to stop Voldemort from stealing the Philosopher's Stone."

McGonagall trembled upon hearing that name. "Albus, you seriously think that he...isn't dead? That he is trying to steal the stone?"

"Yes," he nodded. "And that is where Harry comes in. He has inherited the most electrifying power of them all."

"Love?"

"That too," said Dumbledore. "But I was referring to the power to make the millions—"

"AND THE MILLIONS!"

"Where did that voice come from?" asked McGonagall, concerned, turning around to see if there was anybody else inside Dumbledore's office, but finding nothing but empty space.

"—of the Harry's fans hang to his every word, to chant his name, to respect him. You see, what Harry learned from his adoptive father is a more advanced form of love. He learned how to be The People's Champion. In order to become The People's Champion, one must understand love, one must love himself, and he must be able to make the millions love him. This love, added to the love of his mother that saved his life when he was little, will surely defeat Voldemort."

McGonagall wasn't convinced. "Albus, I still think—"

"IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT YOU THINK!" screamed Dumbledore, flipping his desk over, causing McGonagall to fall backwards in shock. Dumbledore then went back to his kind, almost paternal tone, "How was my imitation of Harry's father?"

"I—it was—I say," she began, gasping for air, still in shock at Dumbledore's uncharacteristic display of emotion, and even more so at his sudden change back to normal, "I think that—"

"IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT YOU THINK!" Dumbledore roared once more, causing McGonagall to faint. "Oh dear," he said, regretting his little joke.

Perhaps he shouldn't push McGonagall that far. After all, though Dumbledore understood the electrifying power Harry had received, McGonagall hadn't been there, with him, when he entered that Muggle stadium. She hadn't watched that man run his mouth like it was a track field and his tongue was the roadrunner. She hadn't watched that man's electrical display of charisma attract the love of millions—and millions—of fans in the entire arena, as they chanted his name, his words, and his ideals.

But Dumbledore had. He would never forget it, he had entered the Muggle arena in the search of a potential man to fight Voldemort, one Dumbledore had heard had never lost before. But this man was only at his most powerful during a very specific time of the year and in a very specific place. It would be difficult to make him fight Voldemort there. But then, he saw something else. It wasn't who Dumbledore had come into the building to look for. This man didn't have any supernatural powers. This man didn't draw powers from the unknown. He drew his power from the love his fans emanated to him. He was a true people's champion.

Once Harry defeated Voldemort, Dumbledore knew that Harry had to be raised by that man. Only he could teach Harry how to love and be loved on that level. Then, surprisingly, it turned out he was one of Lily Potter's relatives, which made everything just perfect. Dumbledore bought many DVDs, a Muggle invention, and watched Harry's father doing his magic over and over again. He studied them all in order to understand the wonders of his magic. His magic, the magic of a Muggle, was just as mysterious and powerful as Dumbledore's magic.

And it was believing in that magic that Dumbledore decided, "I'm going to leave it to Harry to lay the smackdown on Voldemort's candy ass." Watching the Muggle sport had certainly changed his vocabulary. And ability to think clearly.