A/N: I'd like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who has favourited or reviewed this story thus far. I'm not particularly good at replying to reviews, but I assure you that I read - and am grateful for - every one.

IV. Burn

"The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places."

– Ernest Hemingway

"AND IT'S ALL OVER HERE IN EXMOOR!"

"The Wasps have taken this one out with a commanding 210 point victory."

"You know Gwenog Jones has to be frustrated with her Chasers tonight."

"I agree. A clear weak link in the team today. They were outplayed at every turn."

"Ginny Weasley failed to fire."

"I'm glad you brought her up. Biggest signing of the offseason, but failed to live up to the hype today."

"In fairness, she played well below her best today. I think we could all see that."

"Thing is, that's simply not good enough in this League."

"Agreed. Holyhead need to sort out their Chaser problem if they've got any hopes for a successful season."

"Well, they've got another three weeks to figure it out, or the Harpies will find themselves languishing in the bottom half of the league for the third year running."

Gwenog strode in to the despondent dressing room, clearly enraged.

"What the fuck was that!"

No one answered.

The Beater looked furiously around the room.

"Weasley, you're benched. You too, Guilford."

Gwenog hawked and spat, then stalked out.

Ginny's eyes did not leave the floor.

"Commander, meet Task Force One."

Harry surveyed the large space in front of him - effectively a larger version of the Auror Office. MLE personnel manned rows upon rows of cubicles on the open floor. The Deputy Head of the MLE, a tall, thin man named Benjamin Spencer, led him down the stairs and through the rows of cubicles.

"For the last year, Task Force One has been responsible for building a case against every single Death Eater and associate of Voldemort still alive today. Between you and me, Commander, your ah, excursion with the Department of Mysteries made my job a lot easier. No point convicting the dead."

"You're welcome."

"I understand you've made several submissions to the prosecutors on behalf of Draco and Narcissa Malfoy."

Harry gave a short nod.

"Draco acted under considerable duress. And Narcissa saved my life in the Forbidden Forest. She lied to Tom Riddle."

Spencer stopped and gestured to a group of four witches and three wizards, who all stood at the sight of the Auror Commander

"This group is dealing with the Malfoy cases. What have you got?"

"We've got Lucius on charges of conspiracy, treason, murder, attempted murder, extortion, and bribery," answered one of the witches.

"That's one hell of a rap sheet, Commander. Are you sure Draco and Narcissa had nothing to do with any of it?" Spencer asked.

"No. But I have to be pragmatic. Narcissa is inherently self-interested, so if I can repay her for what she did, then she may prove a useful asset to the MLE. As for Draco, I have first-hand testimony from Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore that supports my submission."

"Both are dead. How–"

"I spoke to Dumbledore when I died," Harry replied quietly. "And I have Snape's memories too."

There was a heavy pause.

"What about Lucius?"

Harry's eyes narrowed.

"Lucius Malfoy can rot for all I care."

Kingsley ran his hand over the edge of the lectern, tracing the grain of the polished wood, worn smooth over centuries. He wondered just how many how many had stood where he stood now, basking in the final moments of tranquility before the Press Corps stormed through the doors, hungry, demanding, relentless.

"It's time, Minister," said an undersecretary.

Kingsley set his face into a familiar stoic mask as the Corps filed through the entranceway into the Briefing Room.

"Good morning."

"When I was first appointed to the role of Minister for Magic, I pledged to bring those responsible for the horrific crimes committed during Voldemort's tyranny to justice. But justice, done right, with respect to us, the victims, takes time. It takes patience."

"The patience that the people of Wizarding Britain have extended to the Ministry whilst we have compiled evidence on hundreds of cases is nothing short of commendable. I must acknowledge the work of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement too. Countless hours have gone into the largest judicial undertaking the Wizarding World has ever seen."

"Now, we are ready. Official charges have just been laid against each Death Eater and associate that we hold in captivity today. And I promise you that justice will be served."

Kingsley paused, as bright camera flashes lit up the room.

"At long last, the War Trials can begin!"

"That was Minister Shacklebolt in a Press Conference only moments ago. If you're just joining us now with breaking news, we can confirm that the long-awaited War Trials are set to begin in two days time."

"And about time too. Apart from Wrath of Merlin, this delay has been the biggest blight on the Shacklebolt Administration to date."

The commentary on the wireless faded into the background as Ginny tied the laces on her Quidditch boots, and rotated her ankle to ensure she could freely move her feet.

She stood, fitting her gloves, and shrugged her shoulders. The training gear felt heavy across her back. Ginny traipsed out of the dressing room, grabbing her Firebolt as she left, and made her way to where the second team was training.

Every Quidditch player dreamed of playing for the League. But not as a fill-in player for the second team.

"You weren't joking about your office being tiny," said Harry.

Hermione looked up and smiled at him. Her office was typically Hermione. A bookshelf occupied more room than she did, running floor to ceiling. Several stacks of parchment crowded her desk.

Harry shifted a copy of Legal Treatises of Magical Britain off a chair, and took a seat.

"Aren't you meant to be on Level Ten?"

"I've recused myself from most of the trials. "

"Understandable. Oh, have you found a place yet?"

"I spent three hours last week signing forms at Gringotts. Stuff I couldn't do during Wrath of Merlin. The Potter family fortune goes beyond my vault."

"Not just Godric's Hollow?" she queried.

"The mansion, a lake house, a flat in the west end of Diagon Alley, and a holiday home on Rue Magique."

"In Paris?"

"Yeah. And that's not even including what I inherited from Sirius."

"What are you going to do with it?"

"I'm moving properly into the mansion. It's far too big for one person, but it's secure."

"Lucky for some."

He smirked.

"Here."

He handed her a bunch of photographs with names scrawled on the back. She took them, puzzled.

"What are these for?"

"I've been learning the names of the Aurors. Show me the photos."

"Alright."

Hermione held up the first photo.

"Tiberius Hawke. He's a Senior Auror."

"This one."

"Um, Lucy…Lucy Kerr. She was a student of Tonks."

"Correct," Hermione replied, flicking through to the next photo.

"Easy. Kara Albright. You met her when you visited. She's finishing her training soon."

"Will she make it through?"

"She will do. She knows what she's doing. And we can't afford to let anybody go. Not when the Aurors are being asked to do more and more."

"She's very pretty," Hermione remarked with a querying expression.

"She is. But she's not Ginny."

"Still, huh?"

"Yeah," Harry said quietly. "Next card."

Hermione gave him a sympathetic smile and held up the next card.

Draco Malfoy stared at the low ceiling above him, shifting on the cot in his cell in something of a futile effort to get comfortable. Incarceration had not suited him. The persistent ache in his back and the mind-numbing boredom had made his stay in Barden's Keep most unpleasant.

Visitors were few and far between. The family lawyer had made a couple of calls, before he too had been clapped in irons by a gleeful MLE after revelations had come to light about his activities in the war.

Draco hadn't been surprised when he heard. The man's fees alone were criminal.

He started at the sudden sound of a bolt being drawn back, and the grating noise of the door unlocking. A guard entered the cell.

"Stand, prisoner."

Draco did as instructed.

"Hands."

The young man extended his wrists as the guard reached for his shackles.

"That won't be necessary."

Another figure appeared in the entranceway to the cell. A figure with a voice that Draco knew.

"Sir, it's–"

"I'm well aware that it's protocol. I think I can handle Mr. Malfoy."

"Sir."

The guard gave a deferential nod and exited.

He wasn't Potter anymore. His longtime rival was still there, but much had changed.

He had an assuredness about him that he hadn't possessed at school - except perhaps when playing Quidditch or during his Defence Against the Dark Arts classes. But now it was almost overwhelming.

He wasn't Potter. He was the Auror Commander.

Harry lowered his hood and fixed Draco with an unreadable gaze. Draco had the sudden realisation that if he wanted to, Harry could end his life without a second thought.

"Why are you here?"

"Your trial has been moved forwards to tomorrow."

"Don't you have a hundred people who could've visited instead to tell me that?"

"I'm here because I need you to testify against your father."

"You already have enough evidence."

"Not as much as I'd like."

"You want the death sentence for him."

"The thought has crossed my mind, but no."

"Then why?"

"Because it will break him, Draco. To know that even his own son has rejected him is a greater punishment for your father than death."

Draco gaped.

"If you agree to do this, you will go to trial tomorrow and be presented with a lenient sentence. One year."

One year.

"And if I don't?"

"Twenty-five years. In Azkaban. Trust me, the Keep is much more comfortable."

"You're extorting me to testify! The MLE can't do that!"

"But the Auror Commander can," Harry smirked. "Think, Draco. Your life or his."

And with that, the Commander strode out of the cell, and the door closed behind him with a tone of ringing finality.

Magellan straightened his robes and strode into the Courtroom. Taking his place on the bench, he picked up the gavel and gave it two sharp raps on the desk.

"This Court is called to order!"

Magellan sat and cleared his throat.

"Present the accused!"

"Malfoy, Draco!" announced a burly-looking bailiff.

Malfoy, shackled at wrist and ankle, shuffled into the Courtroom where he stood before Magellan.

"Mr Malfoy, today, you are formally charged with conspiracy to treason and attempted murder."

"The Auror Commander has made a submission to the prosecution on your behalf, stressing that much of your involvement occurred under considerable duress. I also understand that you have agreed to testify if required in subsequent trials. With that in mind, you will receive a twelve month period of incarceration followed by a suspended sentence of ten years, should you plead guilty."

"How do you wish to plead?"

"I plead guilty."

"Done! Fair warning, Mr Malfoy: if you are caught breaking the law - and I daresay the Aurors will keep a very watchful eye on you under the provisions of your plea - then you will serve a ten year sentence in Azkaban."

"Remand Mr Malfoy in Barden's Keep."

Magellan slammed down the gavel.

"Just like that," Hermione remarked from where she and Harry sat in the MLE gallery above the proceedings.

"Just like that," Harry echoed, with a tone of satisfaction in his voice.

"Malfoy, Narcissa!"

The thin blonde woman rose and made her way before the judge. Her face was drawn and her eyes betrayed an emptiness.

"Narcissa Malfoy, you have been charged with conspiracy to treason and conspiracy to murder. In your case, too, the Auror Commander has made a submission. He particularly impressed the nature of your actions in the Forbidden Forest. Taking his testimony into consideration, the prosecution has recommended six months home detention, followed by a five year suspended sentence with a guilty plea."

"How do you plead?"

"Guilty," she replied as her face broke into an expression of relief.

"Done! You will be placed in detention at a nominated address for the allotted period of your sentence. Any visitors and external contact will be vetted by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Any violation of the conditions of your detention will result in a five year incarceration in Barden's Keep."

She nodded and was lead back down the passageway out of the Courtroom.

"What about Lucius?" Hermione queried.

"He's scheduled for next week."

"Did you make a submission for him?"

"Only to recommend a life sentence in Azkaban," Harry replied, and Hermione could not help but notice the edge in his voice.

Ginny

I scowled.

It was becoming a habit.

But I really didn't want to be here tonight.

Of course, my attendance was contractually required. The Preseason Ball was just one of many social functions held by Holyhead to woo their sponsors and sell corporate boxes.

But I would rather be spending the time practicing.

Scanning the ballroom, I noticed I wasn't the only one. Gwenog was tapping out an irate pattern with her fingers on the bar, and her fellow Beater, Georgia Wright, kept on glancing at her watch.

But others - Giselle Fernandes, our Brazilian Chaser, and Selena Guilford, our second Keeper - were loving the attention.

"Persevere, Ginny."

I turned to see a grinning Gracie Lynch holding two drinks.

"Here, you look like you need it."

I thanked her and gratefully took the proffered drink.

I lifted the glass to my lips as Team Owner Georgina Sanders - a renowned entrepreneur and the wealthiest witch in Magical Europe - took to the stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen, players, family, and friends of the Club, it is a great privilege to welcome you all here tonight for the Preseason Ball, as we celebrate the beginning of a new year of Quidditch."

"But without further ado, please put your hands together for our very special guest this evening, a wizard who requires no introduction, Mr Harry Potter!"

Of course he was here. Of course he was the special bloody guest. When you lead an army of Centaurs into battle with thousands of Inferi - and live to tell the tale - you tend to get given special treatment.

I watched Harry make his way to the stage - or rather, watched other people watch him. Most of the women - and a couple of men - were enthralled by his every step. He had dressed for the occasion too, with a sharp set of dress robes. He exchanged a couple of quiet words with Georgina, before turning to address the room.

"Thank you. I'm truly humbled to be considered in such high esteem by Holyhead Quidditch."

"The Auror Office knows how important Quidditch is to so many people in our world, and we're committed to ensuring that players and fans can attend games in safety. A new policy implemented by the MLE this season means that Aurors will be present at every game - protecting you."

"I want to wish the ladies of the team good fortune for their games in the coming weeks. I look forward to attending a few myself."

He raised his goblet.

"Go Harpies."

The crowd cheered.

Short and sweet. Harry had never struck me as the sort of person who would naturally take to giving speeches, but I guess it's what a leader does. The band struck up, and people began to mingle and dance once again.

"Go speak to him!" Gracie encouraged.

"I think he's preoccupied," I replied, watching as a group of people crowded around him, including several women who were eyeing him like a piece of meat.

The sudden unmistakable twinge of jealously surprised me. I really had no reason to be jealous.

After all, he and I were through.

Harry found himself seated amongst the Wizengamot the following morning. He watched as Magellan took his seat on the bench.

"The trial is now in session. I summon the accused!"

"Fenrir Greyback!" announced the bailiff.

There was a palpable hiss throughout the courtroom as Fenrir shuffled in, escorted by a quadrant of bailiffs. He was placed in a wooden chair before the judge and secured to it.

"Fenrir Greyback, you are charged on multiple counts of treason, conspiracy, murder, attempted murder, grievous bodily harm, malicious infection, theft, and extortion."

"How do you plead?"

"Not guilty," replied Greyback, bearing a yellowed smirk.

A cry of anger arose from the crowd in the public gallery, and amongst several in the Wizengamot ranks.

"Order!" Magellan shouted above the crowd, slamming his gavel down.

"Fenrir Greyback, you will be remanded in Azkaban to await trial."

The werewolf gave an earsplitting yell. Suddenly, the chains binding him to the chair sprung apart, and he leapt forwards with a crazed hunger in his eyes.

To the people gathered in the Chamber, it happened in slow motion.

Harry rose from his seat amongst the Wizengamot with his wand drawn, speaking quiet words under his breath.

Mid-leap, Fenrir Greyback was slammed back into the floor, before his body jerked up into the air, levitating before the assembled Council.

A cold anger raged in Harry's eyes.

"Burn."

Greyback suddenly clutched at his stomach, his eyes bugling wide as a billowing flame burst from his chest. He let out an unearthly shriek of pain as the livid fire churned inside him. An acrid stench filled the courtroom as the Fiendfyre consumed him utterly, his limbs flailing in mid-air as the flesh melted from his bones.

And then the chilling screams drew to an abrupt halt, and Fenrir Greyback was no more.

A picture of Fenrir Greyback writhing in agony as Fiendfyre consumed him covered the front page of the Prophet.

JUSTICE IN COURTROOM ONE

Auror Commander Harry Potter, who has recused himself from much of the trial process, dealt the savage Fenrir Greyback a killing blow as the werewolf escaped his bonds.

Critics have been quick to lambast Potter for using deadly force, but it is hard to argue against such actions when Greyback's crimes are taken into account.

The Commander was lightning-quick in his reaction to the suddenly lethal situation, and…

Kingsley slammed the paper down, and glared at the two men standing before him in his office.

"How the fuck did he slip his chains!"

"We simply don't know, Minister," Benjamin Spencer replied smoothly. "An entire team of curse-breakers are working on it as we speak. Trials have been reconvened in Courtroom Two whilst we assess the security risk."

"Get it done. This is an embarrassment. Dismissed."

"Sir."

Spencer left.

Kingsley shifted to look at the other occupant of the room with a resigned look.

"Really?"

Harry returned his gaze with a deadpan expression.

"He was seconds away from mauling someone."

"You could have stunned him instead."

"You and I both know why I didn't."

"You can't pull Wrath of Merlin shit in the middle of a crowded Courtroom, Harry!"

"I acted on instinct, Kingsley. You know how that works as well as I do."

Kingsley mulled his response over for a moment, then exhaled.

"The silver lining is that the Press is so enamoured with you did that they're not bothering to question the glaring security breach. My concern is that it was someone on the inside."

"Likewise," Harry agreed.

"Each bailiff assigned to the Trials was vetted by Spencer. We should be able to trust them."

"You can't trust anybody."

"Should I trust you?" Kingsley asked pointedly.

"I'm an exception."

A/N: As always, let me know what you think. If you're a new reader, welcome aboard!