Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

A/N: Sorry this took so long to get back to, but I can promise that more will be coming soon and on a continuing and regular basis, along with "Half Alive/ Half Dead". Thanks for the patience. MK

Chapter Nine: Moving Sale

"Of all the ...?" Evan Black began to grumble to himself. It was the fifth, and increasingly irritating, time that the wards he'd placed on the south acreage were alerting him of yet another intrusion.

"I swear if it's another one of those damn roo's I'll make it my life's work to see them added to the endangered species list. There must be something out there that eats the damned things?" he groused as he apparated out to the pond area that was the focal point of his south ranch.

Unfortunately, it was a strategically placed bit off water that the local wildlife, (kangaroos), enjoyed using for a watering, bathing hole.

Being from England, originally, he had no experience with the creatures. Initially he found them quite amusing and to an extent- endearing.

Now, he found them a right pain in the arse. They bred like rabbits. They ate like a swarm of locusts and they crapped continually and wherever they pleased.

Despite having spent the last six months working on the small, seemingly innocuous, ranch whilst maintaining a low profile among the locals in the small town of Claymere near the Australian coast, he still maintained 'Constant Vigilance' as Moody had drummed into him as a teenager and Light Strike had expounded upon as an adult.

The former Harry Potter, Jamie Harrison and now; Evan Black took no foolish chances with his life and personal freedom, both were precious to him and neither were available for private or public consumption.

Evan kept a ready door to the twilight realm at his fingertips if he should need an avenue of escape at a moment's notice. He also wore a 9mm Glock at his right shoulder with a quick release holster and two spare fifteen round clips. He forewent carrying his custom made, goblin wrought katana over his left shoulder. It was one of a kind and the only piece of Light Strike he kept as a memento, though it was really more of a personal preference as he and the blade were well traveled, old acquaintances.

He could conjure a shadow blade quick enough if needed, but a nice multi-sheath of six throwing knives strapped to his right thigh brought a sense of security that was comforting.

It was perhaps overkill, carrying this amount of armaments, at all times, whilst relatively secure within a ward system like no other on the face of the earth, but then again-Constant Vigilance!

Evan apparated to the south range finding, instead of another kangaroo blundering about, an ambush, 'Taylor' made just for him.

Snict!

"Owe, damn it!" Evan cursed; tearing the drugged dart from his right chest.

He had at best tend to fifteen seconds before the scopolamine hit his system full force, probably even less given the large dose used and the fact he'd been hit so close to his heart.

Ugh,.. he could feel the drug already going to work.

There was only one possibility of escape, though while loath to expose his talents, he was even more loath to the idea of captivity, no matter by who or to what extent.

Evan opened a twilight portal and managed to heave himself through before falling unconscious.

He awoke in the twilight realm having no idea for how long he'd been incapacitated and although the drugs were still affecting him he was pissed, very pissed.

Concentrating, Evan burned the last vestiges of the drugs from his system using cold fire.

Cold fire, was the life's blood of a Shadow Mage. It was the polar opposite of say- phoenix tears. It healed well enough, like phoenix tears did, but it healed by destroying the source of the corruption from within, rather than without.

His second order of business, now that he was fully 'combat' capable, was to assess or reconnaissance the situation he was in.

Choosing a vantage point some hundred meters above ground and no more than a peephole from the twilight realms into the area surrounding his ranch, Evan took a look see.

What he saw had him seeing red, literally. He was too far away and too high to make out faces, but not so far away as to not recognize field issue 'Light Strike' uniforms, one in particular was currently being worn by a husky male, whose facial features he couldn't quite make out from his vantage point, but whose red hair was a veritable thumb print within his memory.

"Of all the..." he grumbled to himself, choking back the torrent of profanity this revelation was want to elicit.

Some people just never got the hint. Either Ron Weasley was too thick to not take a hint or two full of the jealous need for payback, or worse; guilt ridden with the need to seek reconciliation, to know what was good for him.

Now, he really didn't want to have to kill Ron,.. he really didn't, but he had made a vow and he was definitely all about keeping his word.

What to do? What to do?

He didn't need long to ponder his options before an answer was thrust upon him when the invaders tripped his failsafe wards.

Evan watched helplessly as six months of work went up in flames-literally. The tripped wards ignited several high powered inflammatory spells that no countercharm could successfully deter before the inevitable occurred and his ranch turned to ash within mere minutes.

The intensity of the flames drove his would be kidnappers toward the supposed safety of the surrounding foliage-wrong!

In their haste to escape the inferno engulfing his home, they ran astray of several well placed trip wires that set off a barrage of concussive grenades that leveled the opposition in its entirety.

When the last of the extraction team finally stopped twitching and slumped into unconsciousness; Evan summoned a ground level portal and exited the twilight realm for what was left of his back yard.

The fire had burned itself out almost as quickly as it had ignited and left naught but smoking ruin of his once comfortable abode.

He watched in silent fury as the last wall stud collapsed, wafting away in a cloud of ash like so many of his dreams this past year.

He turned away from the wreckage with a last sigh of regret and resignation. He wondered if moving on got easier the more you were forced to do so, or if was really that you just became more numb after repeated exposure to life altering events and disappointment?

A quick check to make sure everyone was still breathing and in no immediate danger revealed two of the eight man team were in worse shape than expected. Evan activated their subcutaneous port-keys that would take them back to 'Light Strike' medical for immediate attention.

Knowing their arrival would only serve to alert the powers that be and thereby another, perhaps larger and more heavily armed teams would be dispatched; Evan gathered up an unconscious: Ronald Weasley deciding that the least he could do was see his once friend safely home.

The fact that Ron wore lieutenants' bars on his lapel grated no end as he'd arrived highly educated with advanced training, not to mention served with distinction for over two years before he'd received his commission.

The old adage that 'shite floats up' had never seemed more ironic. Briefly he'd pondered if that was the reason ironic was spelled with a 'Ron' in it?

He was about to open a portal when a groan to his left caught his attention. He recognized the groan, even if he didn't recognize the face it came from. He realized then that he didn't recognize any of his former comrades, save the newly enlisted: Ron.

A quick wandless wave of the hand and a mumbled 'finite' shed light on puzzling situation.

His own former lieutenant now sporting captain's bars; Warner was the owner of the groan. To Warner's right was - Anderson. To say that Evan was pleased would be an understatement as, after all, there was nothing like old comrades getting together to reminisce.

Thoughtful that, them coming all this way to give me a "house warming".

Deciding that the least he could do was make a show of appreciation for their efforts, Evan wandlessly stunned the two for expedience's sake, and levitated them along with him and Ron.

And here I thought the day was gonna be a total loss? With a dark chuckle, Evan summoned a twilight portal and was gone a good five minutes before a second 'Light Strike' team port keyed in as he'd predicted.


Evan stretched from his labors and took a cleansing breath of the fresh salt air, appreciating the calm harmony of the waves slapping against the shoreline.

A glance at his watch and quick calculation informed him that he had a window of five to ten minutes if he hoped to make his breakfast plans.

A quick wandless enervate and a few snaps of the fingers had his captive audience groggily trying to orient themselves.

"Gentlemen: when last we parted ways I left you amicably, for my part, but also with a warning that I would broke no further intrusion by 'Light Strike' into my private, civilian life...

You should have heeded my warning." He finished sternly.

"What the...?" Warner began worriedly glancing around, his head swiveling to and fro with increasing rapidity as his alarm grew.

"Where in the hell are we?" Anderson barked reaching for a nonexistent wand.

"It's gone, of course." Evan/Jamie/ Harry informed him patiently.

Warner's hand immediately went to the underside of his left upper arm.

"Deactivated" Evan added in a bored tone.

The two were currently naked, stripped of all armaments and survival gear, let alone escape port-keys. They were lying beneath the shade of a single palm tree,.. the only palm tree on an island that was little more than twenty yards in diameter with other such minute islands stretching toward the horizon in increasingly distances apart.

With an amused expression at seeing his former comrades growing looks of alarm over the seriousness of their current situation, he informed them:

"How many times have I heard you two reminisce that should you actually live to enjoy a retirement from 'Light Strike ', you'd like to spend out your days on a tropical island somewhere? Sun, sand and surf,.. nothing to do but relax to the sounds of the ocean." He quoted.

With a chuckle at their horrified expressions he barked out.. "No need to thank me, guys. It's my pleasure to be able to do this for you!"

He wandlessly apparated away to the next patch of an island some fifty clicks to the south. His howls of laughter echoing back as he apparated to the next and the next till he disappeared in the distance.


"Do you still like you eggs scrambled?" he asked from the stove, busily preparing enough food to feed an army.

"Muvver- fuffin- baff-turd!" Ron swore through the gag stuffed in his mouth.

He could have just cast a silencing charm, but he always liked a little company when he cooked. Besides, gags were more personal and it was the little touches that meant so much in the greater scheme of things.

"Now that's no way to be?" Harry scolded waggling a finger at Ron who was struggling uselessly against his bonds.

"Here I'm making the family a nice brunch and while I don't expect thanks, the least you could do is try to be a little more congenial."

The filthy glare that Ron shot his way could have peeled the paint right off the wall with its vehemence, Harry just rolled his eyes, chuckling softly as he returned to his work.

"What in the world is going on ...in...here...H-Harry...?" Molly Weasley arrived in her kitchen hastily tying the sash on her dressing gown as she came through the door to find her youngest son all trussed up at the breakfast table and a much grown and changed-Harry Potter; cooking, breakfast for an army, at her stove.

Molly just stood gapping, initially dumb founded as she took in the sight of her once surrogate son, now fully grown.

And how he's grown? He was now well over six feet. Tanned and well muscled, but in a trim athletic way that was built more for speed and endurance; though he looked strong enough to tear the pincers off a manticore.

His hair was raven black, his jaw strong and angular beneath eyes that were a vibrant green that belied the immense power contained within.

Molly's initial surprise quickly wore off to be replaced by a growing sense of alarm. Especially heightened by the warning looks Ron was shooting her as he redoubled his efforts to break free of his bonds only to slump wearily in defeat moments later.

Intent upon establishing some control of the situation, Molly searched the pockets of her robe looking for her...

"It's not there, Molly." Harry called over his shoulder, answering her questing hands.

Harry was using a spatula to transfer pancakes to a plate from the griddle as he informed her in a bland tone.

"All of your wands have been removed for safety's sake as I wouldn't want any accident's to occur before we've had a chance to catch up with one another."

Molly was about to ask the obvious when her youngest son cut her off, growling through his gag furiously.

"Youff-camph- fick- emm- upff- your- arseeee!" he banged his tied hands in frustration on the table top.

Molly gasped at his language, despite the gravity of the situation. Harry, for his part, seemed completely unconcerned, let alone insulted.

He turned toward the table with spatula in one hand and a plate of hot cakes in the other.

He was having, or supposedly was having, difficulty managing the transfer one handed so he thrust the hot spatula blade into Ron's hands asking politely.

"Hold this for a minute would you?"

SISSSS

"Urggghhh!" Ron shrieked in pain through his gag, flinging the hot implement away.

"Harry!" Molly shrieked in alarm over his sudden display of aggression.

"Er,.. I'm sorry. Here,.. let me help?" Harry made a show of mortification at his mistake and slapped a stick of butter into Ron's reddening hands.

"Urmmffh!" Ron whimpered.

"You don't put butter on a burn?" Molly barked out in concern.

"Really?" Harry asked innocently in surprise. "Why not?"

"Because it traps the heat in and actually makes.. it.. hurt.. worse... and you already knew that didn't you?" Molly returned haltingly in accusation, realizing he was playing them.

Ron groaned helplessly.

"Please lend me a wand so I can heal his burns?" She asked politely, extending her hand expectantly.

"No" Harry rebuffed coolly, but recanted at seeing her stricken expression. "But for your sake..." Harry snapped his finger off handily and the butter vanished whilst the burns on Ron's hands faded and the color returned to normal.

Ron sighed in relief, falling back into his chair.

Harry continued transferring food from the stove and oven to the table, oblivious to the looks of trepidation Molly was shooting his way as he suggested.

"Everything's pretty well ready, why don't you call the rest down to brunch. Oh, and.. I've made plenty for the whole family." He added pointedly, nodding toward the floo.

It wasn't so much a suggestion as a command and she reluctantly treated it as one, first calling Arthur down and then proceeding to contact the rest of her children.

The mood around the table was grave at best, barely contained panic a worst. Harry sipped his coffee, casually humming quietly, as he waited along with the rest of them for the last of the extended family to arrive.

The floo activated in the other room and Hermione's voice called out into the Burrow.

"In here, dear." Molly called back in resignation, rather than trying to warn her off as she'd attempted with Charlie and his wife.

Charlie was nursing a goose egg on his left forehead. His shattered wand still crackled piteously from the dust bin.

After that, Arthur strongly suggested that she follow Harry's directions to the letter. He hadn't actually given any direction, merely vague suggestions, but the warning glances from Arthur and also, a now more subdued; Ron, told everyone to forego any rash actions.

Calm and cooperative was the order of business this morning.

Hermione entered the room with a toddler of a daughter on her right hip,( the very image of her mother), and a surly red haired adolescent that was following in obvious protest, having no appreciation for his morning plans, at home, being disrupted.

Hermione's inquisitive eyes scanned the room quickly, noting the pensive, near panicked expression on many faces, mixed with anger, by some, and even elated by the twins' and their significant other's faces.

He questioning eyes quickly found the source of everyone's discomfort, well, except the twins along with Alicia, Katie and even Fleur looked well pleased.

"Harry...!" Hermione gasped in surprise.

Harry who?" Her son asked suspiciously, peering around his mother's side.

"Harry Potter" he answered the child with a wry chuckle.

"No shite?" The boy nearly crowed, causing his mother and grandmother to gasp in outrage at his language and the twins to snort their appreciation, earning glares, of support for the female contingent, from their partners.

"I shite you not." Harry returned with a laugh, redirecting the boy's impending tongue lashing to himself by expanding on the original offending word's use.

The admonition on Hermione and Molly's lips died when they considered the source of the offence.

"Is it really him, mum?" The boy asked in wide eyed hopeful wonder.

His mother nodded, not taking her eyes from Harry's direction as she did so.

"So cool!" the boy cheered appreciatively whilst goggling at Harry, as he stepped more fully into view.

Harry quirked his head to the side as he considered out loud. "Odd that? That's exactly the reception I got... cool. Though your dad treated me to a rather warm reception this morning." He drawled the 'warm' pointedly.

Hermione's eyes shifted toward her husband. At first they went wide in surprise when she noticed the uniform he was wearing, only to narrow to slits as she hissed accusingly...

"What did you do?"

Ron squirmed under her scrutiny, but was surprisingly rescued by Harry suggesting they all eat as the warming charms wouldn't last forever and afterward they could "Catch up with one another".

At first tentative, many found their appetites and ate with gusto relishing what they assumed was their last meal. Many commented on the quality and expressed their appreciation.

The only one who didn't appear to have an appetite was a rather pale and stricken faced Ron who was squirming uncomfortably next to his wife who shot him a death glare anytime their eyes met, usually followed by a yelp of painful surprise following a strange muffled thump from under the dining table.

The conversation around the table was not the usual boisterous carefree type that had been a trademark of the Burrow. Instead there was a great deal more conversation centering on the weather than usual. Finally, blessedly, someone brought up quidditch.

Ron and Hermione's son; Arthur, plucked up the courage to ask Harry what team or teams he followed.

With another wry smile he quickly answered. "Anyone but the cannons for starters." He chuckled at that the way Ron winced at that.

"I used to favor the Harpies, but they fell out of favor with me about nine years or so ago when they took on a few , er,.. questionable players?" Again, he expressed pointedly, to which a completely subdued, Ginny unceremoniously dropped her fork. Ginny played for the Harpies for the past nine years and obviously, he knew it.

Ginny was radiant, if he was truthful with himself. He was expecting a more mature figure after a child or two, but obviously, she and her former spouse had not yet explored parenthood.

Not surprising that as Ginny and Draco were too shallow to care about anyone but themselves so children would have been out of the question.

The boy laughed, mocking his aunt at that, which delighted Harry no end.

Once everyone appeared fed and watered. Harry suggested that Ginny take the children outside for a bit of fresh air whilst the adults in the room had a grown up conversation.

Ginny scowled at that, but after a stern glare from her father, she collected Hermione's youngest and shooed Fleur and Bill's daughter along with little Arthur out the door to the garden.

Before he left, the boy plucked up the nerve to ask if .. "Can I get your autograph before you go?"

Harry snorted at that, nearly choking on his coffee. Once settled, he shifted his gaze toward a sullen faced Ron and an embarrassed, but hopeful Hermione, before agreeing to the request, promising he'd seek the boy out once the adults finished their discussion.

Once the children, including Ginny, had left, Harry poured himself another cup of coffee and waited expectantly for the first of many questions.

"How did you get in here?" was the first, from a curiously suspicious Bill.

"Easily" he responded cheekily, though added. "The wards are some of the best I've ever encountered, but they would be useless against someone like me." He both complimented and warned in one statement, adding. "Your work I presume?"

Bill nodded, with reluctant appreciation at that as Harry seemed genuinely impressed with the ward system.

It was no secret amongst the group that Harry was, or had been, a commander within 'Light Strike' as undoubtedly either their father, or more properly; Ron had informed them of this so no one belabored that point, just accepted it warily.

Light Strike's reputation was without peer, and a 'commander' was the considered the best of the best.

George raised his hand, nearly bouncing in his seat as he eagerly anticipated being called upon.

Harry quirked an eyebrow and nodded for him to continue.

"So, how ya been, Harry?" George chortled, sincerely curious, and obviously glad to see him.

"I'd like to claim "fine"," he made quotation marks in the air at that. "but, I was treated to a fire sale at home this morning and now am forced to seek alternative living arrangements."

"Fire sale!" Hermione picked up on the vague byplay more rapidly than even he'd thought she would. She rounded on her cringing husband.

"What did you do? What are you wearing? We have children, Ronald!" she reminded him. "Isn't it already bad enough being an auror and risking our family's future in so dangerous an occupation? Please, tell me you haven't gone and enlisted in "Light Strike"?" she nearly screamed in outrage.

With a dark chuckle, Harry added. "Yes, Ronald,... do tell why you're sitting here in a 'light strike' field issue uniform and just what exactly you did do this morning?" Harry drawled expectantly.

Ron fidgeted and stammered under the scrutiny of his entire family, but managed to find his Gryffindor courage and explain that..

"They enlisted me about five months ago. The money's terrific and the benefits even more so. It's a chance to be among the best in the world and do things that really make a difference. Not on a local, minute detail, but on a world wide scale. I couldn't turn it down, 'Mione." He pleaded. "Not a chance like this. I was going to talk to you about it if they offered me a contract once my probationary status was over. But,.. I doubt that'll ever happen now?" he lamented.

Hermione's eyes narrowed at that. "Why,.. what happened?" she scathed with barely suppressed fury.

Ron shrugged, pleading. "It wasn't my fault. One of the others, probably Warner,.. he must've tripped a failsafe ward or something?"

"A failsafe ward?" Bill questioned in interest, entering the conversation as his professional curiosity got the better of him.

Ron nodded. "The place went up like a tinder box. We barely got out with our lives!" he sought his wife's sympathy with that alarming reservation, but found her anything but sympathetic as she enquired coolly.

"What place went up like a tinder box, Ronald?" Ron's face fell at that.

He looked like he wanted to crawl under the table when Harry clarified... "My place."

Many startled at that. Many more gasped in dread and still others groaned worriedly over what might happen when one started trouble with a "Light Strike" commander. Light Strike had acquired a well earned reputation of not being a forgiving organization.

You harm them and they visited said harm back upon you a hundredfold. No apologies. No appeals. It was simple and direct; harsh and unrelenting vengeance until "Light Strike' felt they'd achieved their pound of flesh which was usually more like ten pounds or more.

Harry finished the explanation, detailing what happened. "He and his cohorts entered my property covertly and without any warning attacked my person via a barrage of tranquilizing darts. When they failed to capture me, or more properly- kidnap me, they then took it upon themselves to ransack my private dwelling which resulted in said dwelling going up in flames, leaving me homeless with naught but the clothes on my back". He nearly mewled that last, playing on the room's sympathies.

His pleas had the desired effect as Hermione, Molly, Fleur and many others gasped in outraged whilst several of his brothers looked murderous and his father- disappointed,... extremely so.

Ron fought off his initial alarm and rounded angrily on Harry. "Why don't you tell them the whole story, huh? You're a wanted man, Potter." He sneered in contempt.

Harry started at that, asking in feigned surprise. "Really, and just what crime am I wanted for? "

Ron struggled helplessly, but had no idea himself, just that they were ordered to bring Harry in for questioning, evaluation and reassignment, and said so, rather lamely in his own defense.

Harry snorted at that. "Which means: I'm to be incarcerated and brain washed into permanent enlistment so that "Light Strike" can exploit the image of the 'boy who lived' and the 'conqueror of Voldemort' to enter the European theatre. They want to use me, both my image and services, to get in on the big money over here. They had a taste of the bounty you put on Voldie and they found it very palatable. My term of contractual service had expired and I refused reenlistment under those grounds and effectively separated myself, legally so, from 'Light Strike'. The only trouble is that 'Light Strike' doesn't like, nor accepts, that decision; legal or not. In short, people; Light Strike has gone mercenary and I'm either with them, or.. I'm with them. They will accept no other outcome other than my unending indentured servitude."

"But that's... they can't...?" Charlie stammered in outraged denial.

"They could." His father disagreed, adding... "And easily so. 'Light Strike' is extremely powerful and well connected the world over. They could literally make anything happen and find a plausible excuse for it after the fact. One man,... even one particularly powerful and resourceful man wouldn't stand a chance against them. Frankly, I can't fathom how you've managed to elude them this long?" He speculated, eyeing Harry appreciatively.

"I have my ways." Was all he offered by way of an explanation, which was none.

Arthur nodded his acceptance regardless with a great deal of respect for his person in that simple gesture.

"I'm profoundly sorry, Harry. Truly I am. I'd like to claim that had I known I would have never sought out Light Strike's assistance, but I can't. Voldemort had us all but beat and like it or no, we needed you and you delivered. What I can and do claim all responsibility for is the fact that I made a promise to leave you anonymously unmolested, and do to the unthinking actions of my own son, I've failed in that promise. As Ronald is both my son and my occupational responsibility I offer you my life in payment of that debt, though I ask that you spare my family from incurring your vengeance, deserved or not."

His family erupted in fear and outrage at that, but Arthur shouted them down with a single word.

"Silence!"

Once calmed to the point of tears and anxious looks between Arthur's resignation and Harry's unread ably cool and detached face, Arthur pleaded a last. "Please, Harry,... Please don't hurt my family, however much we may deserve it?"

After a lengthy pause, Harry addressed Mr. Weasley, though he was speaking to the entire room as well.

"I had every intention of coming here today to do exactly that... kill you all." He stated remorselessly.

Before he continued, Hermione interrupted, despite the warning hiss from her father in-law.

"How could you? How could you even think such an abominable thing, let alone say it out loud?" she screeched in alarm and disgust.

Harry held her gaze for a long moment scrutinizing her, judging her before deciding she was deserving of an explanation.

"You have not gone where I have gone, nor seen what I have seen. You don't know what it is to leave loose ends. Loose ends have a way of biting you in the end one day and today I got bit, but good, by just such. When you make an agreement, however distasteful, it should be kept and honored to the letter, lest you lose all respect and subsequent power. Once that happens, your life is no longer your own as others will seek to take it from you. Today, I narrowly avoided being kidnapped at the price of my home being utterly destroyed and now I am that much more vulnerable, all because I chose to spare you all once already. Had I been captured I would be suffering torture at this very moment. Were that happening, I can assure you, I would consider your lives quite inconsequential at that point." There was such power and dread conviction in his words that it was staggering in its implications and the room gapped in shock trying to absorb the full measure of his words and a life that was forced to have to live as such just to have any semblance of a life.

All in the room that in one form or another, to one extent or another; they we're all guilty of influencing his life to this point, to have to live under these conditions.

In a moment of compassion, he addressed Ron, though every fiber of his being was screaming to let the git reap what he'd sown.

"Is it worth it, Ron?" He asked his once friend softly. "Is this what you want for your family? You have everything that I once wanted for myself more than anything else in the entire world. You have family and friends and a loving and beautiful wife."

Hermione blushed to the roots of her hair, but he continued oblivious as he outlined all that Ron was unthinkingly throwing away.

"You have children of your own and a home with them. You have an occupation that makes a good living and stands you in good stead within the community, not to mention garners respect and appreciation. Is this what you would throw away to become no more than a mercenary? Will your jealously at last be sated once you've become all that I am: hunted, friendless,.. anonymous? Do you think you will enjoy having to fight to be free, to have to kill to survive? Jealousy is an ugly thing, envy however...? I envy all that you have and are, Ron Weasley. For ten long years I strived to make a place for myself in the world to build friendships and have some semblance of peace and security. It took me ten years to get to the point where I could even consider having what you have and taking the chance to have and give love. Ten years it took... and in ten days it was all gone. Jealousy, greed,.. there's a reason they're called the deadliest of sins for they lead to the destruction of all one holds dear and the ruination of one's soul.

Is this what you want, Ron? Do you want to keep 'Mione up nights worrying and waiting for you to return from some vile mission that will haunt your dreams for the rest of your life, however long that might be if you choose to stay in Light Strike? Your family will share in the risk. The people we hunt will use any and all means to strike back or to manipulate you. Will you blindly follow unjust orders that destroy a man's home? To hunt and harry him until he's forced to fight back like the cornered animal that you've made him through your unthinking actions? Is this what you truly want, Ron?"

The women in the room were sniffling and snuffling into their significant other's shoulders, those that had already fled the room in tears and were now being consoled elsewhere.

Molly for her part wanted to throw herself at his feet and beg forgiveness for what they done to him. She wanted to gather him up in one of her 'bone crushing' hugs and never let him go. She cried even more knowing that it could never now be. Her own jealousy and greed had seen to that long ago.

Ron broke down into tears of regret and dismay, begging his wife's forgiveness.

Hermione had gathered him up in her arms, kissing and cooing reassuringly to him whilst she mouthed a silent 'thank you' to Harry.

The lost, indifferent look on his face clearly stated that he hadn't done it for her, but for Ron, and maybe a little for himself as well. She was merely a point of reference, an example he'd used for Ron. She was as dead to him as he once believed her to be.

The knowledge crushed her and she found herself clinging to Ron in the desperate knowledge of all that she too had thrown away. Her tears mingled with his, now more for herself than for her husband.

Harry placed his mug in the sink and waved his hand, instantly clearing the table and setting the dishes to wash before he left, which he quietly did whilst everyone was preoccupied with their own guilt and remorse. It was both far more and far less than what he'd originally planned to do here today, but all in all, it was an acceptable , even a gratifying alternative to killing the lot.

Not that he'd really ever had any intention of doing that in the first place. Some of the reputations that Light Strike fostered were highly motivating if one truly feared the consequences that elicited said reputation.

Besides, he'd already had a what.. an epiphany? He was not going to deprive any of those that had wronged him of their lives, just their livelihood.

To that extent... it was time he came home.