Incorruptible: The Dementor's Stigma

by The Matt Silver

A year has passed since the dead started returning to life. The fate of those hoping to survive and rebuild rests on the best and the worst of humanity, both wizards and Muggles, with their political ideologies and the ravenous undead in between, and it's up to Healer Harry Potter to save as many as he can in the crossfire. A Harry Potter Zombie Apocalypse Fanfiction. HP/AG.

14. Chapter Fourteen: Integrity

Standard Disclaimer :: All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling and affiliates. This fanfiction is a non-profit venture written for the enjoyment of myself and my readers.

Dedication :: To Seratin, Lutris, Zeitgeist, Vira and my friends from DLP, for putting up with my insanity, for reading early drafts, and just being there. Also, to all those who reviewed/favourited/alerted me or my story here on FFnet, cheers. Props to DLP for the feedback, too - anyone reading this who hasn't devoured their C2 on this very site must do so now. It's the first community on the list, for a damn good reason, and I'm more than happy to have this story a part of it too.

Preface :: Well, reactions to the last chapter were pretty awesome, so cheers guys. Storylines are starting to wrap up in the final slide, and it's just the kind of stuff that I looked forward to writing the most, and that it reads well enough is a bonus. Unfortunately, a bit of politics left to get through. But we will persevere. We can do this! Onwards!

Previously :: Harry walked into Malfoy Manor and met with a fearful Astoria, not just because Draco was there, but he had prepared a special guest for Harry: Grey Gale. Gale and Astoria sat on the sidelines as potential collateral as Harry and Draco verbally sparred over recent events, and, once and for all, Harry called in his life debt, gifted from Draco's mother for dodging Azkaban time. Unfortunately, the question Harry asked, "Did you, Draco Malfoy, destroy Liliford?", turned out to be the wrong one, and Draco's answer, "No", sent Harry into a rage. In a quick gambit, Draco revealed that Gale has been forcibly resigned from the Wizengamot by himself, and kills the man to prove the point to Harry. The duel that ensued ended in Harry's favour, and would've ended Draco had the latter reminded Harry of the insurance the Ogdens's placement in Granford was. Astoria decided to stay in the manor to help figure out why Draco said what he said, and Harry, reluctantly, went back to Granford. There, he was hit with the biggest revelation of them all: Theodore Nott wasn't in league with Draco, but with the Dementors, and all it'll take is him dying to unleash the mist on Granford. Everything falls into place for Harry, but before he can take action, he gets a message from Astoria, a distress, and rushes over to Malfoy Manor...

Only to find the mansion a bloodbath. Draco had been bitten by the zombie in his study, and, nearing death, let himself turn and bite his wife on the hand. Harry pieces together that Astoria was able to run, then fight back, and Draco Malfoy's corpse was found on the second floor. But it was too late for Astoria, as Harry discovered. She killed herself to avoid turning, and her corpse was found along with her final note and some instructions...

..::..-.-..::..

Chapter Fourteen of Sixteen: Integrity

..::..-.-..::..

Night had fallen on the gardens of Malfoy Manor as the doors closed behind me for the final time. I had no intention of going back in, not now, not ever, but at the same time I knew I'd be back, in my nightmares with all the rest.

I walked down the steps and onto the brick-lined trail, twisting down to the gates, travelling past lawns, flowerbeds and the fountains. The light of the moon reflected off of the tip of every blade of grass, wet from a light rain that passed while I was inside. The air itself felt cold and wet, and I knew the rain would be back in full force later. I didn't need to dawdle, not with what I had to do next, and my breath appeared in front of my face in a wispy vapour as I said, "Expecto Patronum."

To fuel the spell, I used a happy memory that wouldn't lead back to her, either of the hers, all of the hers, the hims, the ones lost to war and chaos, blood and fire; the dead ones. It was a short list of happy memories that didn't involve the lost, but I found one. Whatever it was, it was gone from my head the moment I waved my wand, and the form of my father's Animagus appeared in a burst of white, ethereal and beautiful, light. For a second, the air didn't feel as cold or as wet, and blood pulsed under my warmed skin.

I watched my breath hang in the air again. "Go to Tiberius Ogden and give him this message," I told Prongs. The stag nodded, ready to receive it. "Draco Malfoy is dead. Granford's in more danger than I thought, if that was even possible, and Malfoy's death doesn't help matters. It's... a long story, and I'll be around to see you later. Just for now, know that Malfoy and..." My voice caught in my throat. "Malfoy and his wife are dead. That's all."

With a flick of my wrist, a half-turn and a upwards motion with my wand, Prongs went, soaring off into the night sky and taking the reprieve the warmth brought with it. Without the Patronus, I felt miserable, tired, dejected...

But it still hadn't hit me. Not yet.

"Harry?" Ron said, taking off my Invisibility Cloak. He stood from his hiding spot by one of the fountains and walked forward, the tip of his wand lit and playing dark shadows on his pale face. "You were gone an hour, and... You didn't call for help, but they're dead? Malfoy and... Astoria?"

I nodded my head numbly. "It wasn't me, before you ask."

"I wasn't going to." He was beside me now, and we stood on the trail, with me ignoring that the path lead to the manor, that manor with the memories good and bad. "What happened?"

"You heard, but... Well. Draco kept zombies in the house," I said quietly. "Like back in Fairlane; you saw."

Ron gestured to the fountain. "Saw what looked like a chain, and some blood. Yeah, I figured."

"And what happened, Ron? Draco got bitten, and when I got there, there was nothing but the corpses." I sighed, feeling the thrum of a headache, the repressed scream of hateful grief I wanted to unleash, settle in my mind. "No house elves, no portraits. The whole place is dead. Hell, Gale's body's still sitting in the parlour."

"What's in the bag?"

At my side was a satchel, recently conjured, which I had magically expanded on the inside and stuffed all of Draco's notes into. Astoria's note, the one that really mattered, was sitting in my pocket, right next to the ring I never gave Sarah. Both of them made me feel weighed down inexplicably. "Draco had a system," I explained. "He had a lot of plans and a lot of people to keep straight. He was smart, but no human library. I only read some, but from what I understand, he wrote things down both to make sense of it later and to protect himself from a Legilimens. He had himself Obliviated regularly, on the tinier details that could trip him up if somebody scanned his thoughts, but he never got rid of anything he thought he wouldn't need - the notes helped, too. Maybe not the best system, but it worked for him, and it's helpful to me."

"And these notes..."

"He had them hidden, but the spells were unlocked in his death. Scanned a few, collected a lot more - like a scavenging trip." I shook my head. "Enough of that, we need to talk somewhere else. I spent an hour in there I shouldn't have, and we'll be having some company soon -"

As if on cue, three sharp ringing and cracking sounds of apparation rang through the fresh night air, and three figures appeared at the front gates.

"Selwyn, Parkinson, Bulstrode," I said quickly. "Come on, we'll jump the wall out to the side. Now. Before they get up here."

Ron nodded briskly. "Got it." But he paused for a moment, sniffing at the air. "Harry, why do I smell smoke?"

Down the trail, I heard three voices announce their presence, but the gates didn't budge, just like they hadn't for me earlier. "I burned the corpse in Malfoy's study, the zombie who bit him. Let's say for the sake of it that Draco used fire to kill the zombie, it caught, and managed to burn down all the notes he would want to pass on in the event of his death. He would've used fire, wouldn't he? Either way, we go, now."

I tapped the back of my neck with my wand, a cool trickling sensation swooping down my spine indicating the successful Disillusionment Charm. Ron donned my Invisibility Cloak, and the two of us ran off to the side of the trail just as the trio opened the gates. We fled into the night without looking back - either to see if we'd been spotted, or just for the sake of looking. When we hoisted ourselves over the low stone walls, punching through the wards that had been softened by the death of the manor's master, I thought about looking back, taking in the mansion one last time and telling myself something comforting, like everything would be all right.

But Nott was sitting in Granford ready to unleash the Dementors. Fortess had been lied and manipulated to by Malfoy, whose death would not help either matter. And Astoria... I never got her out of there. She entered that mansion at her father's behest, married off to a man who just needed her for her potential Wizengamot vote, and never left. I'd promised, more than once, to show her how things were now, every good and bad part of it. Thing was, she already knew it; she died in pain, alone and uncertain for so many things.

The only thing I told myself was that she wouldn't die in vain.

..::..-.-..::..

Water trickled down my glasses as we crossed the Old Bridge into Granford. The rain had appeared when we did, not as light as it had been near the manor, and it drenched us through to the bone before we could cross the ward boundary line. Men and women huddled under cover on the Tent Bridge, though a few braver sentries stood underneath the Two Flares, always vigilant for their town, to them all that there was. Shame those flares wouldn't help in a Dementor attack, with the mist blocking all sources of light, but all of the Muggle defences were similarly useless against a bunch of monsters they couldn't see. The rain poured on the two bridges and those hiding from it only served to remind me how fragile everything, everyone, was. They were food ready to be eaten, nothing more. And they would, dammit they would, be eaten soon if I didn't stop it somehow.

That depressing thought carried with me like a bad stench all the way to the alleyway off to the side of the town's entrance, where Ron and I removed our disguises.

"Let's get to Abe's," I said. "You can keep a hold of the cloak for now."

"Thanks," he replied, stuffing it into his jacket pocket carefully. When he was done, he began to itch at his elbow. "I won't, um, tell anybody about what happened back there."

"There's nothing to not tell," I said, though I appreciated the gesture. Out of everybody I knew, Ron might just understand my relationship with Astoria the best. Or... what relationship there was. It didn't matter now. "I'm glad you have my back, though."

He smiled a ghost of a smile. "Every time."

The mouth of the alleyway led to a street connected to the south side of the main square, the centre area of the town that was more circle-shaped than square. When we emerged, the earlier hubbub of the town-wide winter supply inventory had tapered off, lost to both the rain and the night. A few people darted back and forth, and the town hall's windows were bright and yellow in the night, alight with activity and warmth of the townspeople sharing a meal together. I inhaled deeply and brought the smell of cooked food into my nostrils, and for a moment I heard laughter ringing in the night.

Then Su Li appeared at our sides, her expression grave. "Come quick," she said. "It's Terry."

We followed her out of the square, running with footsteps pounding on wet pavement, headed towards the police station.

An ice-cold feeling wormed its way in the back of my skull. "Is it Nott?" I demanded. "What would Terry -"

"It's not Nott," Su replied. "It's Juliet."

That didn't exactly make me feel much better, and the expression on her face didn't help things at all. Worry pushed me into a quickened pace, and the police station came into view a minute later. We didn't go into the station, but towards the two-story storage building where a number of Fortess's best, like Stanthorpe and Juliet, lived. From what I understood, Juliet used to live with Fortess and his wife, before all of this went down, in a house on the north side of town, but the houses there had been abandoned, and since Fortess wanted to work out of the police station, Juliet had wanted to stay close. When we got to the building, a few people were mulling around, muttering and whispering with grim looks on their faces. Su pushed past and I followed, turning a corner into a grey hallway. The kind of hallway that was practical, boring to look at on a normal day, but right now it was the epicentre of something, something that had gathered a small crowd.

I saw Stanthorpe standing at the end of the hall, his hands raised in a placating manner. "Juliet, Fortess is coming, okay?" he was saying. "Just stay calm, and -"

"What going on?" I asked, pushing past a few burly men to get to Stanthorpe. He was standing across from an open door. "Stan?"

The man took in my presence, his eyes flashing to the injuries I still hadn't healed from my fight with Malfoy. "Harry," he said, surprised. "Harry, I don't think you should be here."

"Harry?" Terry's voice called from within the room. "I think I might need some help."

"Shut up," Juliet's voice hissed. "You don't get to talk, you fuck -"

"Juliet, calm down," Stanthorpe rumbled. He looked past me, Su and Ron and winced. "I did not want a crowd for this. Most everyone's still at the hall, but I just got back here when I heard the commotion. Screaming, yelling, banging." A dark look crossed over his face. "She wants Fortess here, now."

But why, exactly? I left Ron and Su where they were and ventured forward, keeping my footsteps light and trying to contain my breathing. The door frame reminded me of the one to the master bedroom at Malfoy Manor, and opening that door had nearly stopped my heart in my chest... This door was already open, but the scene inside was no less hair-raising, and I didn't feel entirely thankful for the open door.

Juliet's room was yet another display in Spartan decorations, and was painted the same grey colour as the hallway was. The only splash in colour came from the shadows dancing on the walls, an eerie green colour brought on by the lampshade surrounding a candle on the bedside table, sitting next to the bed against the left wall. Her bedcovers were dark and ruffled, and a set of drawers took up the right side of the room, and a covered window, the blinds grey of course, sat directly in front of me. I took that in and looked for something, anything, that would've made it definitely Juliet's, and I eventually spotted the framed photo on the bedside table. Three people stood together in the picture, and when I titled my head, I could at least identify Aaron Fortess, a younger Juliet, and a pretty woman with dark hair I assumed was Tess, Aaron's wife and later, the reason for his new identity.

Terry Boot was pressed up against the set of drawers, his eyes wide and his hands raised. His straw-coloured hair was askew, his glasses were on the ground beside the bed, and he looked distinctly dishevelled, and indignantly upset. His eyes flashed in relief as he saw me. "Oh thank Merlin," he said. "Harry, you have to get me out of here. She's gone crazy."

I looked at Juliet O'Flynn, standing in front of the bed. She was actually pretty cute when she wasn't scowling, and today was no exception. Ignoring the look on her face, her brown hair cascaded to the back of her neck, messy and untamed, and she had a slim, toned, body, her legs contained in a pair of jeans, her upper body in a white tank top. Her eyes darted my way when I entered, but the gun pointed at Terry's head never wavered.

"Okay, I don't quite know what's going on..." But I stepped forward into the room anyway. True to my prediction, Juliet's gun stayed pointed at Terry, and her scowl deepened at my move.

"Take one more step and I'll shoot him," she hissed.

"Juliet," Stanthorpe said clearly, standing next to Ron in the doorway. "It's okay. Aaron is coming."

Juliet's eyes were filled with rage, I noticed, and I appealed to Terry first. "Mate, what -"

"Nothing, nothing, dammit, nothing." Terry shook his head quickly. "I did nothing. We were having dinner in the town hall, she invited me back here, then -"

"Shut up!" Juliet spat.

"Something almost happened," Stanthorpe murmured. "She reacted. Better than most would, and wants Fortess to deal with it. To deal with him."

"Deal with him why?" Though I had a sinking feeling on what she was accusing him of...

"I didn't do anything," Terry said fiercely. "I didn't touch her, she just went off, hit me, pulled the gun, and -" He let out a frustrated sigh. "Nothing. I didn't try to rape her, or whatever she's saying."

"That's exactly what I'm saying," Juliet snapped. "You son of a -"

Fortess showed up then, pushing past Stanthorpe at the door and coming to stand beside me. The green light of the room served to highlight how tired he really looked. The day's events alone, and everything else in between, would be weighing on him, just as they would me. "Juliet," he said softly, calmly. "I just heard. Are you all right?"

Her anger didn't melt when she saw him. "No I am not all right! You say you heard? Then you know that I didn't kill this little fuck is a miracle. Take him away, now. Kick him and his friends out, now."

"You crazy bitch," Terry said. "I didn't do -"

I shushed him, and that made Fortess truly notice me. His eyes were a calm storm as he took me in, and I met his gaze evenly. So many things left unsaid that really should've been. But now was not the time for it. He turned away from me, and to Juliet, stepping forward. "All right, this is what we're going to do," he said. "You're going to put down the gun. I will take care of this, I promise."

It struck me then, looking at Juliet, that something was off about this. The gun in her hands was held steadily. Juliet was a cast-iron kind of woman, but even she would experience shakes, even minor ones, if there was a near-miss like this. She was angry enough to push through it, sure, but there should've been something, a twitch or... Terry was emphatic in the fact he didn't do anything, but Juliet was sure. The thing could be... What if they just thought something had happened?

"Fortess," I said immediately, stepping forward and dropping my voice to a low pitch. "It's more than how it looks, you have to -"

But with Fortess's attention drawn to me, and Juliet's eyes following him, Terry decided to make a move. I saw his hand descend down, heading to the wand strapped in its invisible holster -

Juliet noticed. She let out a little shriek of anger, and barely twitched before pulling the trigger.

Time seemed to slow down first. The ringing in my ears followed, and I seemed to register the BANG of the gun second. The smell of gunpowder filled the air, tingling my nostrils like so many other burning smells. Muted and dull were the shocked cries from everyone else, especially Terry. It had barely escaped his lips when the bullet hit him, right between the eyes. It buried itself into his forehead, and that shocked look on his face, that confusion and that pain, was etched on his face forever.

Time sped up as blood splattered all over the walls. Terry Boot's body pitched forward and fell to the ground. It landed at Juliet's feet, and bits of his brain spat out from the impact and coated her lower legs.

The woman who pulled the trigger didn't move for a second, and neither did we. Fortess, Ron, Stanthorpe, Su, myself... All of us just looked. God, we'd seen so much we just looked. I saw echoes of everyone, from Cedric Diggory onwards, right up until Astoria...

Juliet lowered the gun, but she didn't drop it completely. Her eyes moved from Terry's body and to mine, as if in a dare.

I didn't take the bait.

Fortess moved forward, stepped over Terry's body, and clasped her on the shoulder in a hard, but paternal, way. He gestured to Stanthorpe, who walked forward and took the gun from her hands. Murmurs and whispers filled the hallway behind us; everyone had heard the shot.

"Stan," said Fortess.

Stanthorpe nodded. "I'll explain the situation, make sure nobody sends up any alarms."

"Good."

On his way out, Stanthorpe didn't meet mine, Ron's, or Su's eyes. He knew what was coming next.

Fortess rubbed Juliet's shoulder gently, and she finally, finally, broke down, her shoulders trembling and her angry expression melting into despair. Maybe it finally hit her, or maybe... Nothing had hit me yet, I'll say that much. I opened my mouth to say something, even though I had nothing planned, but Fortess cut me off.

"You are your friends are gone, now," he said firmly.

"I..." I cleared my throat. "We need to talk. Now."

"That won't change anything," Fortess said. "I have rules, especially against incidents like this. I told you, when you first came, that Granford will not tolerate a negative presence like yours. I needed guarantees, and I told you that if one of you slipped up, you'd all be gone. There's no going back. You're all gone. Within the hour."

"Then we have ten minutes to talk." I gestured my head. "Now."

He narrowed his eyes at that, but he couldn't deny that this talk needed to happen. So he nodded, accepted the force in my tone, and slowly released his hand from Juliet's shoulder. He murmured something to her, and it was enough to make her leave, her shoulders wracked with the beginning of what a normal person would call sobbing but to her seemed to be a foreign concept. She left the man she killed behind, and a gesture to Ron was enough for him to leave as well. Su had already slipped off for whatever reason, but Ron had remained. "Back to Abe's," I told him. "Pack up."

The door closed, and Aaron Fortess and me stood, staring at each other with Terry's body lying in between.

There was no use lying anymore. "I'm sorry this happened," I said. "I'm sorry a lot of things have happened, and if I listed them off, we'd be here a while. But... and dammit I don't mean to belittle what happened here, but this is more than it appears. You know what I'm talking about."

"I'd rather you say it," he said coolly.

"Magic. It's a very dangerous thing, magic, and can do a lot of things, all of which you're aware." I'd imagine Malfoy would be smart enough to let Fortess know of mind-manipulating magics, just for the sake of laying out the possibility of its existence and proving some way that he wasn't doing the same. Right now, I almost pulled my wand out and whipped up a Silencing Charm, but I didn't want to make him scared, well, more scared. "A magical compulsion, an Imperius, or a potion, or anything, could be involved. Think about it. It could've been placed on either of them. Push Terry into doing something he would never do, and make him forget when it's important, or make Juliet think she was attacked, and then the reaction would be genuine to something fake, something that didn't happen."

"Just like that," Fortess murmured. "So easy, isn't it."

It was, it would be, it could've been. I got the sudden feeling that would not make him feel any more secure, or safe, to be in a room with me.

"How much did he tell you?" I asked.

"Enough," he replied. "I know who you are, and I've heard stories. I'm not stupid enough to believe every single thing I've been told, before you say anything. I act on what I know about people, not what other people, such as a person who clearly doesn't like you very much, tells me. And you know what this gut feeling tells me, Healer Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, chair-holder of the Wizengamot? I know that you and your friends infiltrated my town, lied and deceived me. You stole my resources, and I involved you in missions that could've gotten people killed because I added unknown elements. I had to be told who you were, everything that you are, from my source after the fact. As to what you're doing here, well, your attempts to save my town seem to be misguided." Fortess's eyes went to Terry's body. "I hear that you, a known liar, tell me that he could've been the victim of magical manipulation. But what I think about is what I knew of the man. He was strange, and obsessive. He hounded after Juliet, and somehow managed to get her to trust him enough... Juliet of all people. Maybe he used a magical compulsion on her, you ever think of that? Either way, he wasn't trustworthy... and neither are you."

"I'm sorry, then," I said, because what else was there to say? I genuinely was sorry, because despite the best intentions, I'd gone in over my head and come out with several deaths on my conscience. I was aiming to fix that now, and with my plan for tomorrow, but dammit, I couldn't be perfect, not ever. I could only do what I had to do. But how could I convey that to him? He was raw with distrust of wizards, and didn't know, didn't understand, about everything that Granford was about to go through.

I tried, though. "I do truly mean to save Granford, to save all those that live in it."

"Granford has no need for this plotting, or this scheming, so let me tell it to you simple: you and your friends leave now, or things will get messy." He didn't even need to point out Terry's body to me; I looked anyway, and felt sick to my stomach. Not even him; I thought of Warren, and then of Hart. A back and forth of death, which made me think of...

"You're waiting for word from Malfoy," I said, and his mouth set in a harder line. "But you can't. I don't want to be the one to tell you this, but Malfoy's dead." He very visibly didn't react. "If you didn't believe every word out of his mouth, then you know he wasn't a saint. You want to know the why of how he died? It wasn't me, or any of his enemies. It was his own fault, his own downfall being his pride, his arrogance, his surety that everything would work out for him in the end." And it got Astoria killed too, I reminded myself, the words tinged with pure, grief-filled, bitterness. "There's a bigger thing at play than the plots and schemes looking to use Granford like a pawn. Something darker, something more powerful, and evil, and something that needs to be dealt with."

Fortess just shook his head. "I haven't heard from him for a few days, but that doesn't mean I believe you, or this." He held up a hand to forestall my next comment. "I know that I may be foolish to be sceptical, and that you have no reason to lie, but that doesn't change what happened tonight. You need to go, now. And that's not a threat, but a fact. I can't help what I'll do in order to protect my town. I told you that if you broke one of the rules, you'd be gone, and the only reason I left you here before was because he told me you didn't fully know yet. But, dammit, if things have changed, how am I to know the truth of it? All I know is that Juliet, one of my closest friends, was almost hurt very badly... By one of you. Am I automatically supposed to believe your story, and trust it's not a manipulation? My sense of judgement has been skewed by all of this. But human nature? Terry's told me he was capable of this, and I already knew he was deceiving me with the rest of you."

"So that's your final decision?"

"Yes."

"Then what about Ellie Ogden?" I pressed. "You know her worth, her and her family. If I had to bet, that was the last thing you got from Malfoy - everything there was to know about why they're important."

"I do know why they're here, yes," Fortess said. "They're staying here, before you ask. Until I know what to do next, until I can make a call, get a hold of Malfoy or his friends."

"But he's dead," I insisted. I saw his corpse, I saw the hole Astoria drilled into her husband's head before she killed herself rather than succumb to the bite he gave her.

"No harm will come to them. I am not a monster." He shook his head. "If there's nothing else, yourself, Mr Weasley, Mr MacMillan and Mr Longbottom will be escorted back to gather your things, and -"

An idea hit me; dammit, I was about to deceive him again. "And Su?"

He looked surprised. "What about her?"

"You know."

"Know... what, exactly?"

Right at the start, when I first met him, Fortess had commented on her quietness. She'd been a shadow for the past fortnight, keeping as quiet as I'd asked her to. The way she forced herself into coming... and then staying so quiet, so unassuming, a fly on the wall, a shadow in the corner of everyone's eye. She didn't even need magic to do it, she just did. She wanted to be useful, she wanted to make her place on this group mean something, and she just did. This was all her plan, and it had worked like a charm. Fortess hadn't even mentioned her.

"She's not one of us," I lied, bald-facedly, but I was desperate enough. "You picked up on it back then, guessed she was someone we rescued from somewhere. You were right. We found her in the company of a group of men, the bad kind, whose supplies and hideout we took for ourselves in order to sell the infiltration. We kept her with us then because it would've led to questions, and we just wanted her to be happy here. We didn't involve her, we didn't do anything but take her somewhere safe. Are you going to kick her out too? Are you going to take her away from here, after what almost happened to Juliet? What does your gut say?"

His gut should've been telling him I was lying again. My own stomach felt sick for doing it like this, but I had to try.

And maybe a small part of Fortess wanted to believe that story, taking it for a peace offering of a sort, for he nodded slowly.

"Now, one more thing to say," I said seriously. "Whatever you do, you cannot kill Theodore Nott, the prisoner in the station. You truly shouldn't. You know there's something strange about him."

Fortess absently rubbed his bruised knuckles on his leg. "I have."

"There's a good reason for that. He's a weapon, not to me, not to Draco, but his death will take Granford to a hell nobody will survive. All of this fighting will be for nothing if he dies. Even if you don't trust literally anything else I say, trust this. Not on my life, but Draco Malfoy would've agreed."

"I need not remind you that I'm not in the habit of killing people."

This time, I was the one to use Terry's body to prove a point. "Not just you I'm worried about."

His back went rigid, and his eyes turned from a calm pre-storm to the beginnings of a true, raging, monstrous hurricane. "As far as everyone else is concerned, his body has nowhere else to go outside these walls. He'll be burned, tonight."

I gritted my teeth. "Fine." No less than I gave Warren. The sanctity of the dead didn't mean all that much when ninety-nine percent of the world's population were walking corpses themselves, after all.

Aaron Fortess had nothing else to say but, "I think it's time you left Granford behind, Harry Potter."

..::..-.-..::..

"I'll be back," I assured Ellie. Her eyes were shining in concern and fear, and she was clutching and twisting the hem of her shirt. We were alone in my room; she'd volunteered to help me pack immediately, even though there wasn't much in the way of packing to do.

"But I don't understand -"

I zipped up my bag and hoisted it over my shoulders. I crossed the room and squeezed her shoulder, trying and probably failing to smile reassuringly. "I need you to remember everything I told you. The stakes are higher than ever, and if you're back here, I especially need you to be strong, for all of this. Practise the Patronus Charm."

She frowned. "Why would I need to -"

"It'll be Dementors," I explained to the whole group when we returned to downstairs. The pub area was packed with all of us: the Ogdens, my group, Abe and Hit-Wizard Strauss. Ellie hadn't left my side since earlier, and I kept my eyes on her more than anyone else. Neville, Ernie, Ron and Su, I especially didn't try to look at. The absence of Terry, and the reminder of why he wasn't here, hurt. "The escape plan we went over hasn't changed. The broomsticks, remember."

"But Dementors?" Gladys Ogden asked, sitting on one of the tables with her daughter. "Are you sure?"

I nodded. "Very sure. I'm not worried about Malfoy's plots anymore, it's Nott I'm worried about..." That got a few blank faces from the Ogdens, but Abe and Strauss shared grim expressions. I heard Ernie swear, too. "The escape plan still stays as is. You'll need to follow it while we're not here."

"Why don't we just leave?" Amaris Ogden demanded. That usual fire, and bitchiness, seemed put-upon. Even she would get tired of being provocative eventually, and fear seemed to win out today. Dementors brought that out in people. "Why?"

"It goes back to Fortess, and why you're here in the first place," I told her. "He's kicking us out tonight because Terry and Juliet were played as part of a plan Malfoy enacted, for whatever reason, before he died."

"Ron told us, but..." Strauss trailed off.

"He really bite it?" Abe finished in his usual gruff tone.

"Long story behind it," I replied. "It hinders us more than anything else, given how we have to handle Nott -"

"And Astoria?" Neville asked quietly, his arms crossed.

"What did Ron tell you, Neville?"

"That she died too."

"And that's what happened," I said crisply. "Gale died too. And now Terry. That's three too many in one day."

He said nothing.

Gladys coughed politely. "You didn't answer Amaris's question, dear."

I nodded to her. "Fortess is kicking us out because of Terry, and maybe just because he's sick of all the lying. Regardless, I need to ensure some cooperation, and he wasn't going to budge about keeping you three here. Because, like I told Ellie, I intend to come back. There's some business to be done first, but within in the next twenty-four hours, I'll be back, and I won't leave until Nott's taken care of, and until I get all of you out safely. Fortess and I still have a lot of ground to cover."

"Well then," said Abe, nodding with approval. "We'll keep 'em safe here."

Strauss echoed him.

Su perked up in her seat at the bar and said, "You better come back."

"Twenty-four hours," I assured. Su knew that her plan to stay as unassuming as possible might yet come in handy, and here it was. She would be staying to watch the police station and still managing the Ogdens as she could. I'd talked it over with her briefly, and she was good to stay. So, with that out of the way, I moved from her and to the others. "Until then, keep safe."

The group shared goodbyes, and Ron took off the Silencing Charm around the door before opening it, nodding to Auror Strong outside, who'd be escorting us to the bridges. Ron, Neville and Ernie left first, but something made me wait. Her name was Ellie.

"I'll be back for you, and your family," I said, not refusing the offer of her hand. I squeezed it, and smiled again. Again, I doubt it looked genuine - I didn't have one in me right now. "Good luck."

"You too," she said quietly. For a second, it looked she was about to do something else; she looked at those watching us, then to our clasped hands, and indecision flickered and flashed on her face...

I made the decision for her, pulling away before anything could happen. I didn't want, or need, it. Not after Astoria.

I quashed any and all guilt by the time I left Abe's pub.

..::..-.-..::..

Back when I had been first planning the infiltration, I had set up a communication with Granford via their long-range radio system, which they used to send out calls to all those in need of their help, and which they also received distress calls from those outside. I set up myself and my friends as students who were on a camping trip when things all went to hell, and told those listening on the other end of the radio that we heard about this town, this place safe from the undead. A thousand people lived in this place, came the first reply. A thousand people. Said in the most reverent of tones, crackled through the static of the radio.

That comment told me everything I needed to know about Stanthorpe. He was one of the three who had ventured into zombie-infested London to rescue six strangers, and out of those three, he was the one who wanted to be there the most, because the number one thousand and six was something worth risking his life for.

Fittingly, he was the one to lead us the way we came in, though there were only the four of us to lead. We crossed the Tent Bridge first, navigating through the tents and the sentries, wet and miserable from the earlier rain. We walked the road out from the bridges, hearing the rushing water of The Trickler, the river surrounding Granford on three sides, taper off in the distance. The trail was dark all the way to the gas station just outside the ward boundary line, where Stanthorpe was to let us go on from.

"Fortess said you wouldn't need a car," he said, frowning. "I don't agree with that, just so you know. This whole situation... I want to believe it's a misunderstanding, that your friend's actions don't reflect on your own... But since I can't know one story from another, I will just have to offer my apologies. Even with the coming winter, we shouldn't be so careless with your lives out here. If I could, I'd get you a car."

"Thanks for trying, Stan," I said, holding out my hand to shake. "But we'll survive."

He shook my hand firmly. "I hope everything turns out for you lot. Stay safe, you hear? You may be saying goodbye to Granford, but there's still hope, even in the wastelands."

I could get behind that idea. I didn't tell him I'd be back, or that I'd be back so soon. Stanthorpe wasn't involved in anything beyond doing his duty to protect the town he loved. I respected the man too much to get him involved in this, to use him against Fortess. After what happened with Astoria, Gale and Terry, I'd like to think I'd learned my lesson about getting those involved that shouldn't be. The world's screwed up enough, so why add more pain? No point to it.

Stanthorpe and I released our handshake, and I nodded at him. "Tell Leeson I said goodbye, and tell him to stay away from lifting heavy things on his arm." Stanthrope chuckled, and I almost echoed him. "Keep an eye on everyone for us. Especially Fortess."

"I always try," the older man replied, and that was that.

Ron, Neville, Ernie and I walked for a few minutes after leaving the gas station, even though we all knew we didn't have to. We followed the cracked highway road, burdened by our backpacks and our experiences, and not one thing to be said between us. The night air was still, but cold, cold enough to make me shiver through my jacket. It wasn't until Neville brought out his wand and casting a Warming Charm that the moment of pretending was broken, and all of us stopped walking.

Somehow, we had scaled to the top of a grass hill, overlooking farmlands to the east and the highway leading west. Behind us lay Granford, only visible by small pinpricks of light on the horizon, fully cloaked in the night's shadow. For a second, my mind went to another hill overlooking another town, a town swallowed by the Dementor's mist. Liliford, with just as much to lose as Granford, and already lost to vile creatures of despair and Theodore Nott, less of a man and more of a shell, fuelled by his twisted sanity, deadened to all feeling but the bad ones, because that's what his masters left him with.

"I'm going to call a Wizengamot meeting," I told the others to break the silence. Ron and Ernie both nodded understandably, and while Neville looked up, he didn't meet my eyes. "Malfoy's death means we have to act quick." I gestured to the satchel I'd kept close ever since Malfoy Manor, the one filled with rolls of parchment detailing Draco's plans. "Hopefully these will hinder the other side enough for my next move to work. Hopefully."

Ron smiled a ghost of a smile. "Malfoy'd be laughing himself sick if he knew we could actually use his help right now."

The thought didn't make me smile. "Yeah, well, having read some of his notes, I doubt he would've accepted any help, and probably would've turned around and destroyed Granford after taking care of Nott." I shook my head. "No, Malfoy was behind a lot of plots, and a lot of plans, but he was still him. He couldn't escape his nature, just like I can't escape mine. If he was actually still alive when I visited, I'd probably try to kill him again, and that would get more people killed than him and Ast... Astoria."

"You've been kind of vague on things," said Ernie. "But I can understand. I know I haven't helped you in the Wizengamot side of things before now, but if you need it, I'll help bounce ideas, or..."

I shook my head again. "No need, but thanks. I've got this next move handled, as soon as I see Ogden."

"So this is it, then?" Neville asked. "We're really going to leave Granford to Nott and the Dementors?"

"I don't like it either, but how else could it have gone down? I put charms up earlier, and Fortess has assured me he won't kill him, and we've got Su keeping an eye... but that's the best I can do without Malfoy. I had no idea how to get Nott out - my first idea would've been to evacuate the whole town, burn it, and bury Nott in the rubble. But I can't do that without having somewhere for the Muggles to go, and I can't do that without the disclosure bill, not to mention I'd need Fortess's cooperation..." I sighed wearily. "And whatever plan ended up with Fortess's second-in-command getting targeted and Terry being killed threw that out of the window."

"And there's another thing," said Neville. "Harry, how are we going to explain this to Terry's uncle? How are we... Terry died because of us."

"Because of me," I corrected. "And because of himself, and because of Juliet O'Flynn, and Fortess, and Malfoy and... You know enough to tell Antioch Boot the truth. It happened to Hart, didn't it? Just another plan."

Neville frowned severely. "Another death."

"I will fix this, Neville," I said with resolve. "Trust me."

"I do."

But he still wouldn't meet my eyes. He'd backed a lot of my moves over the past year, but what happened to Sarah still overshadowed our friendship, or what was left of it. I almost killed him, even though he was no enemy. That knowledge, that I had an unstable moment, had been gnawing at Neville for a while, no doubt, and my behaviour recently probably didn't fill him with confidence. Not only that, but something had changed with him, and I'd only just noticed. Every action of his, every one, had been fuelled by something big... Suffice it to say, there was a way to fix our divide, but not tonight.

"I am sorry," I told the three. "Terry was a good friend. As crazy as Luna Lovegood when he wanted to be, but he still wanted to help, and he was helpful. You were too, all of you."

"We tried our best." Ron nodded. "And I'll be up to help you again in the morning, mate, especially if it means figuring out a way to give that cunt Nott his just desserts, but tonight, I'm going to go catch up with my alcohol intake. I am very much in need of a drink."

He gave me a little salute, turned on the spot, and paused. The bloody cricket bat he'd brought with him into this was still in his hands, and among the things he had walked out of Granford with. He considered it for a moment, and eventually dropped it onto the grass. Without another look, he disapparated with a crack. Neville followed after telling us he'd go tell Susan and Terry's uncle what happened, and left me and Ernie alone on the hill.

"I meant what I said, Harry," Ernie said seriously. "I was wary to get too involved, but I'm in now."

"But you've played your part," I said. "Practical experience, remember? You wanted to see how the Muggles did things for yourself. I can swing overtime pay if you're still wanting that."

He chuckled. "Not about that anymore. I know I was a bit skittish at the start, and I know I probably didn't help much at all in the end, but I still... Thank you, Harry, for bringing me there. I had to see to truly understand how they're just like us. The Muggles aren't what the wizarding world sees them as, especially now. They're people trying to survive, and they're doing a damn good job at it."

"They are, aren't they?"

"And this experience, I needed. Not just for me, not just to help you, but for the sake of the future. When the disclosure bill passes, and I'm not joking or just being positive by saying 'when' instead of 'if', a lot of things will need to be smoothed over, but most importantly, we have to understand how they do things, so they can learn how we work when we teach them. This, my experience, will help so many things back at the office. It's been better than I could've asked for."

I hadn't seen it coming, but if anybody would know if it would be helpful or not, it would be Ernie MacMillan, one of those tasked at the Ministry to marry the wizard and Muggle ways of doing this together when the bill passes. When, not if. That was the important thing. Ernie still believed.

"No regrets," he said. "Even with Terry... I'm sure he would've felt the same, in his own quirky way. Don't beat yourself up on Muggle relations, not yet. I know people now, and they know me. Might help."

"But there's still the Wizengamot," I pointed out. "Not to mention Nott."

"And which is your priority?"

"Tomorrow? The Wizengamot. After that, Nott, though that's not quite right. Really, all of this? Nott. Granford. Stop one, save the other."

"I don't know how much help I'll be with Nott," Ernie admitted. "But I can help with the Wizengamot. My father's vote. And when you get my father's vote, you'll get Smith's vote. Two votes to your bill."

"I seem to recall your father and you left on frosty terms. He was upset you left to help me in Granford." I frowned as a thought struck me. "I assured him you'd be safe. You did come out in one piece, but Terry didn't."

"But that apology is for you to give to Terry's uncle, not my father," said Ernie. "I can help with that too, and I'm sure Neville can set up Antioch Boot to forgive you for this, or to work past it towards the disclosure bill. But my father, and Smith, I can help with. Maybe not all the way, but if I convince him of enough, convince him that ultimately, my decision was for the best, the opportunity will be there. My father's just scared, and I can help that. The rest will be up to you, but I have no doubt you'd win him over."

It was nice to see such loyalty in these murky days. My allies and my friends were who they were for a reason, and Ernie's plan was something that would be needed. He didn't hold anything against me, not even after everything. It felt nice.

I held out my hand to shake, and Ernie clasped it in a hard, but warm, grip, similar to his father in that regard. "Goodbye, then," I said. "Thanks again."

"Whatever needs to be done," he replied.

After he disapparated, I took one last look at Granford off in the distance. The pinpricks of light were dropping off as the night got deeper. Before I prepared myself to disapparate to Hogwarts, I knew this wasn't the end for me and Granford. Not just the town, but the people inside, a thousand and more, friends, allies, enemies both true and misguided, and the people in between, the ones all working toward a better future in their own little ways. Granford would come later, soon, but the Wizengamot awaited me now.

..::..-.-..::..

I found Tiberius Ogden in his office, nursing a drink and sorting through a pile of parchments, his eyes bloodshot with tiredness behind square-rimmed reading glasses. The office was dim, with a single candle on his desk providing the only light source in the room. It wasn't cold, not with the Room of Requirement's temperature being moved up and down at will, but felt no less detached, distant.

He didn't look up when I entered, but I had no doubt he knew it was me. "The Aurors are over at Malfoy Manor now," he informed. "I knew ahead of time thanks to your tip-off, but it was officially called in by Leo Parkinson. Said he was there for a dinner with Selwyn and Bulstrode when he found half the mansion on fire."

"And how'd they swing it?" I asked, setting myself down at a chair across from Ogden's, his desk and more dividing us. "They just ignored the evidence that Malfoy kept zombies as his pets?"

"They've been ignoring several citizens of Fairlane's use of them in the same manner," said Ogden, shrugging. "Bigger issues, and I have no doubt Parkinson and Selwyn were there on hand to pay several of the investigators off, and they'd be sure to cover their tracks in later paperwork." He reached into his desk and pulled out a bottle of his favourite scotch, aiming to pour its contents into an empty glass he already had set on his desktop. He filled it halfway, screwed the lid on the bottle, and gestured for me to take the drink.

"It's not poisoned, is it?" I asked.

He snorted. "Not this time, I triple-checked."

I took a gulp, and let the alcohol burn down my throat. "No mention of Gale?"

Ogden matched me, draining the rest of his glass. "Gale's gone missing, but I got this..." He held up one of the letters from his desk. "His resignation."

"He should've been in the manor with the others." His death flashed in my mind, hot blood spilling out, Draco Malfoy forcing me to watch him die to spite me... "Guess they're going to save his corpse for another time."

Ogden started. "He's dead?"

"Saw it happen," I said bitterly. "He outlived his usefulness to Malfoy, and he died because of it."

"Aurors say there was signs of a struggle..."

"A fight. It was a fight. Because of Gale, because of everything."

"Robards thinks you're involved with the deaths."

"Of course he does. Malfoy's looks like a zombie-related accident, though, doesn't it? Or is Robards being pushed by Selwyn and Parkinson?"

"No, I very much doubt that. It's just that, after what's happened to the others, and given that you haven't been going out of your way to talk to him lately, he's more than a little put out. He told me to tell you that you promised to keep him in the loop."

"I'll be talking to him soon," I promised. "Wouldn't want a murder investigation getting in the way of what's coming next."

"And what is coming next, Harry?" Ogden asked, boring his eyes, magnified through his glasses, into mine.

"Plenty of things. All of them bad. Granford's in danger from something... some things, we all forgot in the midst of our own politics. The Dementors aren't coming to destroy the place - they're already there, lying in wait, and when one man dies, they'll be rushing to devour the place from the inside out." I elaborated as he poured himself another drink, about Nott and Liliford and how bad things would get if the Dementors used Granford as a new breeding ground. When I was done, I finished with, "... Draco Malfoy wanted the Dementors stopped more than he wanted the Muggles killed. When I went to see him tonight, it was because of that."

Ogden leaned back in his chair and removed his glasses. "A complex situation," he said, rubbing at his eyes. "And my family's in the middle of it."

Don't I just know it. I didn't need the reminder. "Astoria Greengrass was able to take advantage of Malfoy's death, getting around a magical binding he placed upon her when they married a year ago. The binding dissolved, and she unlocked all the right doors for me. I have Draco's notes, in this satchel. I haven't gone over that many of them, but I've learnt some things, little things that slipped through the cracks. Like why he never just had me or you killed outright."

"Go on," Ogden said.

"I'm still a big figure in our world, as much as I try not to be. I relied on that to get me some support in the Wizengamot once upon a time, and with that, and being a prominent Healer, a former Auror, and my work on Kingsley's scavenging team... I was important to our little world. Killing me would've either ignited enough rage to make finding out who did it a top priority, and that might've been something Malfoy couldn't escape. Worse, my side could've made me into a martyr, which would not have ended well at all. That didn't stop him from having plans, very detailed ones, about how I'd be killed. They got more and more complex as time went on and he had to adapt, but eventually he decided that I would get myself killed - going into Granford like I did was a death sentence, he said. Not only that, but he definitely wanted to destroy me and make me obsolete before killing me out some kind of petty revenge. I kinda get the feeling he would've succeeded if the disclosure bill got shot down."

"And while things have obviously changed, should you still be afraid for your life?"

"Nothing to fear, because I was knew my life was in some kind of danger," I said with a shrug. "And now...? Need I say again about Nott and the Dementors? Draco's side's been marginalised, and if they haven't, they will when I finish his notes."

Ogden nodded understandably. "What did he have to say about me?"

"He didn't think much of you, and knew every button to push as far as your family was concerned. The thing with the hair of the Auror? A bluff. The poisoning wasn't, but he knew I wouldn't let you die, and since he wouldn't lose either way, he didn't care. He was good like that."

"Lucky he's dead and I'm not, then." He raised his glass with a grim smile, and downed the rest of its contents.

"Not yet, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't keep checking your scotch. If these notes also included plans for Malfoy's lackeys and mouthpieces, taking them out of their hands might make them reckless, stupid. Keep on your guard... because I might not be there to help."

His eyebrows went up at that. "And why not?"

"I need you to something for me."

"Name it."

"Emergency Wizengamot meeting."

"When?"

"Tomorrow. Think you can angle it?"

"Of course, if there's special circumstances."

There was. I explained to Ogden what I was going to do, and how I was going to do it. I didn't know if I had any favours to call in with him, but I called them anyway because I needed him, and this would ultimately lead to his family's safety. When I was done, he nodded. "I'll set the meeting up for tomorrow, at noon."

"I'll be ready," I said, standing from my chair. "For now, I've got a long night of reading to do." Sleep seemed unlikely now, but I don't think it'll be a problem. I was focused enough on the task at hand.

"Harry," Ogden said before I could leave. "I'm sorry about Astoria Malfoy's death. And your friend Terry's."

And all I said in reply was, "I'm sorry too."

"If this gets my family back safe, then there's nothing to be sorry for," he said simply. "Go on, now. I'll take care of things on my end."

I nodded, and left the Chief Warlock to his work. This gesture was enough, I knew, enough to galvanise him again, to push him forward. The danger his family was in wasn't something that could be truly controlled, not anymore, and he wanted to do as much good as he could before anything happened to them, or him. Just like me, Tiberius Ogden knew the score. He wouldn't let me down.

..::..-.-..::..

Dawn broke over a jagged hill, and I saw it all. The first inkling of light appeared an hour ago, casting vague shadows of the tree I sat under, and on all of the stones half-buried in the earth in front of me. I had put down the note I was reading - detailing the various weaknesses on his side that he handled along the way - and watched the night sky grow lighter and lighter, until faded lines of pink and orange appeared, and the sun still followed. When it was risen enough to cast a shine on the hill - my hill - I basked in its warmth for a moment. The promise of a new day, started with a shining dawn, washed over me, cleansing all the uncertainty and power of the night. Wizards and witches believed in a certain power that came with the dawn, and while I wasn't so sure, I felt enough to know my course, my plan, was the best one.

The next time I saw a dawn break, I wanted all of this to be over. I'd be dead before I wouldn't let that come to fruition, I just knew.

My night had spent on my memorial hill, a warded and secluded slice of the world I came to think, just beyond the long-charred ruin of the house Sarah grew up in. My back was up against a great sentinel, a tree more eternal than so many other things, with roots growing into the hill and maybe even making it as large as it was. Warming Charms had kept the night's chill away from my skin, though the things I'd read in Draco's handwriting hadn't kept me feeling all that warm on the inside. His writing was dispassionate, and his notes were complex and half of them written in a cipher he seemed to keep consistent when it suited him. But I got through the relevant parts easy enough, and the picture all became pretty clear. While it wouldn't all help against the Wizengamot, some of it would help when I deal with Fortess next...

The sun was hanging in the sky and the morning was well underway when a bright and familiar Patronus glided up the grass and settled beside me. "Antioch Boot wants to talk to you," said Susan's voice, issuing out of the badger's mouth softly. "Before the meeting, he said, and just to you, alone."

I knew that was coming and knew it was unavoidable, so pushed my back off of the tree in preparation to stand up. However, the Patronus hadn't left yet; my mind remembered Astoria's instead, telling me to come quick... Not quick enough to be there for her.

"Harry..." Susan's voice trailed off. "I heard about what happened, and if it means anything now, I'm sorry. Neville and I are worried about you, so even if you don't come see us before the meeting, at least let us know you're okay, and that you're not going to do anything rash."

"Depends on your definition of the word," I murmured.

"... talk to you later, okay?" The Patronus nodded its head, its message done. It turned tail and glided back the way it came, fading into a white wisp of light in the distance.

I gathered the note I was reading and placed it back in the satchel with the others. Standing, I stretched and let my bones crack and creak, and a tired yawn escaped me - not the kind of tired yawn that made me want to sleep, but the kind that was in preparation for what was next. Before I could leave... My gaze went to the stones in the ground, nine in all.

I thought about adding one for Terry, and wondered what mark would best describe him.

I thought about adding one for Astoria.

Yeah, I pushed past that latter feeling pretty quickly. It still hadn't hit me yet, her death, and I really didn't want to be there when it finally did.

..::..-.-..::..

"It's nice here," said Antioch Boot.

"It's raining," I pointed out.

"That's what makes it nice."

We stood on the edge of the Great Lake of Hogwarts, an expanse of water turned murky grey in colour by the weather, the clouds hanging overhead releasing their loads the lake, the tents on the lawn, the castle to the side, and our heads. Boot lived in the castle after his homestead had been destroyed in the outbreak, and spent the majority of his days in the Hogwarts library or out in Hogsmeade, not quite having a job but still keeping himself busy. After I found him in his room, dropping by and informing him that Susan's message had reached me, he offered to take me for a walk. The two of us had headed out here for our talk at his behest, and I wasn't about to say no to a man in mourning.

I pushed my wet fringe out of my vision, and said, "I am sorry."

"So you've said, and I accept your apologises. I know you're sincere."

Good to know. "But are we going to have an issue, Boot? The circumstances are probably not painting the Muggles in the best light, I know, but -"

"My nephew wouldn't have been who he was if he didn't take risks," said Boot. "He gets bored, and complacent, and he never liked that. Might be why he liked being friends with you."

"Didn't get him anywhere good," I remarked.

"And yet it doesn't change where my votes goes," he said firmly. "Terry told you my history, didn't he? I stayed neutral at the worst possible time. He Who Must Not Be Named had control, and I was too concerned with my family's image to take on the cause I was meant to... Yours, the one Albus Dumbledore died for. Terry helped me see that, you know, in that way of his." He chuckled hollowly. "And now, with all of this, you know what he did? He came up to me about a day before your first meeting, and told me that I was voting your way, whatever the cost. No provocation, no preamble, he just told me. This incident won't change things."

"Even with Terry's death?"

"Even with Terry's death." He nodded. "He was the one who pushed me for this, but I didn't need to be pushed far. This bill is the right thing. He saw it, I see it. It's that simple."

I considered the man. "I once had reservations about you, you know."

"I know."

"Your neutrality, the convenience in you choosing your side when it only looked like we were going to win... Never sat right. But... Sometimes, people surprise you."

Maybe it was just the man's nature, or just a facet of the way he was made, formed, into a player of the great Wizengamot game. Either way, Terry was the Boot that mattered, and with him dead... I hadn't expected Antioch to keep on the right path, and he was right about one thing: the bill was the right course of action. Everything I've done has revolved around getting that bill passed, because it was right, damn it. Right.

There under the sheeting rain on the edge of the Great Lakes, I thanked Antioch Boot sincerely. "Your support's been great, and again, I'm sorry about Terry."

"You're a Healer, and you know the only thing to do in this situation is to give it time. Death happens." He wasn't quite as dismissive as it sounded; his eyes were bloodshot from a lack of sleep and in his grief. But, like me, he had something to be fighting for, to push past that grief. "I know it doesn't seem likely given my past, but Boots go all in when they see something worth chasing after." He smiled hollowly. "Even if it kills us."

..::..-.-..::..

My robes were made of a fine silk, plum in colour and heavy with the Wizengamot brooch, an elaborate gold 'W', pinned on my chest. The chair I sat on was tall, almost a throne, of plain wood at the base but with ostentatious red and gold trimmings of its own. The chair was matched by the others in the room, though their colours and look changed by family. While my chair had a circular top, Burke's was jagged, Smith's was rigidly square-shaped, and I remembered Malfoy's chair having three carved serpents for him to lean his head on, snaking up into the air like the prongs of a trident. Malfoy's chair was gone now, along with Hart's, Gale's, Harper's, Aquilla's, and Bill Weasley's - the Prewett Chair, inherited from his mother's side of the family. I briefly wondered what Astoria's Greengrass throne would've looked like, or how she would've looked sitting in it. But hers wasn't among the fifteen present, arranged in a semicircle at the front end of Hogwarts's Great Hall, all looked down upon by the high table.

Ogden, in robes of purple, black and gold, sat regally in the middle of the table, the great, pure gold, Chief Warlock's throne at his back. On the seat to his left was Samuel Stark, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's official head and the Senior Undersecretary, today acting as the body's scribe, dictation quill at the ready. On Ogden's right, sitting in his own throne no less befitting of his status, was everybody's favourite Minister for Magic, Gawain Robards. Yes, nobody was more surprised than me when he showed up for today's meeting, but if I had to guess, it was because Ogden told him of my plan, and Robards wanted to see if I had the balls to do it. The three men of power watched us from up high, and the air grew tense, the entire Wizengamot waiting on bated breath for Ogden to speak...

"Welcome," he said. "My wizards and witches, this session of the ancient and august body, of my peers and equals, will begin as of now, mid-day, November the fourteenth, in the year two-thousand and two. The Wizengamot, created for the purpose of upholding the laws laid down a thousand years ago, and of representing the best and the brightest, the noblest and the strongest, of wizards and witches, will be called. When you hear your name and title read before your peers, you will raise your wand in reply. There will be no need for words, or for gestures beyond the one I have instructed." He raised his own wand, a spindly twist of wood as old as him and had seen better days. His eyes shifted to the left side of the room, to the seat closest to the high table. From there, he would do the whole semicircle, from Parkinson to Boot. "Leonidas Parkinson," Ogden intoned.

Parkinson raised his wand. He looked like he hadn't slept a wink of sleep in the night, but still carried a bit of swagger in his movements; Malfoy's death had rattled him, but he still wanted to look as strong as he could for his side. Parkinson's family had been stalwart supporters of Malfoy's in the same vein as the Longbottoms to Potters, so I suppose I could respect that... to a point.

Gale would've been called next. A pang of regret shot through me at that.

Neville was called instead, and I watched him raise his wand with no expression on his face. He and I hadn't talked, not since last night, but I hadn't sought his counsel for the fact I wouldn't know if he would thank me or try to stop me. There were nothing but muddy feelings between us, shattered friendships, resentment, guilt, a lack of trust, a sinking feeling of too much trust... And there was Susan.

She went after Adelle Zabini, who was after me. Every eye in the room turned my way when I raised my wand, and every eye went to Zabini for different reasons. She was a beautiful woman, but I didn't care for her or her way of choosing sides. She'd let how much gold she got vote on the issue for her. Even if I hadn't used the gold I was going to give to her in order to keep Lucas Meadowes in line, I still don't think I would've eventually bothered.

It was almost amazing how little the Wizengamot game seemed to be winnable, with the perspective I had now. The backstabbing, the corruption, the arrogance and resentment between members was all a recipe for disaster.

Which brought me back to Susan. Susan Bones, the woman who would be of more use in the future... and who could be destroyed before that could happen. She'd been put through the ringer, no less than anybody else, sure, but Susan had gone into this post-outbreak world with the ideals of justice and the law carrying the wizarding world into future peace. She wasn't idiotic enough to drop everything in the name of her moral code, but she had almost split off from my side - not my side on the vote, but as a friend and ally. Knowing all I know now, in my mind there was nothing to forgive about our little spats. I got her godfather killed, and she had more than enough reason to be angry or anything else, but... The look on her face now? She was still backing me, all the way. And that felt good.

MacMillan and Smith were called next. Angus MacMillan, Ernie's father, didn't look particularly emotional today, projecting a stern exterior and nothing else. This issue had been a particularly challenging one to MacMillan, who had run through the gamut of insecurities and fears over the Muggles. I couldn't tell right away if Ernie's words had gotten through to his father, but I suppose I'd have to find out later. Smith, a dour man who passed on his resemblance to son Zacharias, wasn't an element that could be bought or coerced from voting away from MacMillan, both Malfoy and I knew. Smith's support wasn't like the Longbottoms supporting the Potters or Parkinson supporting Malfoy, no, his friendship with Angus was closer to Ron and mine. They were friends to the end, and I could appreciate that now more than ever.

Burke and Bulstrode were next. Malfoy loyalists, the two of them, and not all that many redeeming aspects to their personalities. Burke was a gambler, and a bad one, the second-biggest liability in Malfoy's eyes, right next to the deceased Harper. Marco Bulstrode was an odd one, a loner who only owed Draco for an act of Lucius's, allowing him to dodge Azkaban a few times; life debt, naturally. Draco's notes had detailed just how lucky Bulstrode had gotten, and he had used that to get his vote no matter the cost. My side's attempts to start up bloodlline rumours about his family hadn't petered out, but Malfoy had made note of it a few times, because he never could be too sure. He had issues that way, worried about the corruptibility of his own people, which, yes, is rather ironic to me for some reason.

"Barnabus Cuffe," Ogden called out, and the man raised his wand. He was unpleasant to deal with, Cuffe, always angling for his truth in the light of everything else, for reasons I knew of in vague terms. He had lost his wife, maybe in the outbreak, maybe before, and with her gone went an excuse to stay a more right path. He'd never been an angel before, but... Malfoy hadn't been entirely sure on his own opinion towards the bill, whether he could weigh the deaths of a thousand Muggles on his conscience or not.

Moving on, as Ogden called for Christian Selwyn next. Oh, Selwyn did not look like he was in the best of moods. Slippery tongued as they came, Selwyn was the kind of man who would burn off the skin on his arm to avoid being associated with Voldemort, twice, after both wars. For a long time I thought him to be the true, understated, threat in the pureblood agenda because of his general intelligence and way with words being better than anybody else's, but reading the notes had proven just how much of those words were actually Draco's - Selwyn just had a way with presenting them. I would be watching him carefully today, because his visible bad mood, a far-cry to his usual oily self, might just push him into something drastic.

The right side of the room, the four men sitting in their chairs across from mine, were all my allies, and seeing them all raise their wands and nod my way once their names were called was a feeling worth keeping. These men were players too, of the game, but they knew a lot about doing the right thing in the right time, and for that, they had my respect. Dylan Brown and Danesh Patil were making up for their mistakes in the war, and had gone to great lengths to secure their business demons in check, something which had annoyed Malfoy greatly. Brown had told me once that he felt like he owed me, and Patil owed Brown for his appointment, but their votes followed my way because of the issue at hand, and them wanting to play their part. Amos Diggory was the third man, and one of the few that truly understood about loss driving you forward. He was able to relate to my side of doing things because of my own losses, taking his own son's death and never blaming me for it, even back in the days that I blamed myself... Diggory was a good person, in the end.

"Antioch Boot," Ogden said with finality, his voice carrying throughout the hall and into my bones.

Boot met my eye and allowed a spark of light to envelop the tip of his wand, and that light was like a beacon in the darkness, spurning me onward into what was coming next. The only move, the best move, the right move. Hope in the middle of a hall of old men, broken, corrupt and strong in their convictions. The Wizengamot, great and powerful and ancient, and I was about to tell them all to fuck off.

Because seriously, fuck the Wizengamot game, fuck playing with politics with lives on the line, and fuck sitting around and waiting for Granford to be destroyed while these men debated its worthiness to keep existing. I wasn't going to let myself be a player any longer.

It was why today's meeting was my last, after all.

"This meeting will be brief, as there is only one issue to discuss," announced Ogden. "You have all received notifications of the change in our membership. Grey Gale has resigned from his seat as of yesterday and soon after, we heard of the death of one yet another of our number. Draco Malfoy was found dead in his home just yesterday evening, by his close friends who were visiting for dinner."

"Who killed him?" Patil asked, frowning. "Your missive did not say how he was killed."

"Because it's an ongoing Ministry investigation," Robards chipped in, leaning forward in his chair. "The exact circumstances on his death and the death of his lady wife are still being investigated by my best."

"Your best who still haven't gone after the Muggles who attacked The Burrows this weekend past?" questioned Burke. "I should think -"

"The manner of his death does not concern the events of this meeting," I said firmly. Everyone's attention was on me now, and I signalled Ogden to take up the rest of his explanation before a round of Ministry-bashing could start.

"Healer Potter is correct, of course," said Ogden. "Another death to grieve, surely, but the Wizengamot must move forward and push past it lest there's even more loss. I called out fifteen names today, while just two weeks ago I called out twenty-one. Can none of you see the issue with that? It does not fill me with confidence, and there is something to be done immediately." He cleared his throat and looked me directly in the eye. Don't screw this up, his eyes seemed to convey, and I shot him a look back, a look that said, I have this handled. He nodded to himself, and directed the rest of the Wizengamot's attention towards me, saying, "Healer Potter has something to say."

I stood, and the rest of the room watched in pure, total, silence. I blocked out every one of my fellow members in the steps it took to reach to the front of the room. Before I turned, Ogden shot me another grave look, Robards eyed me with flinty curiosity, and Stark stayed remarkably emotionless, as usual, hiding everything and nothing at the same time. I turned on the spot and faced the Wizengamot again, looking past their faces and to the tops of the chairs they sat on. This wasn't like my other speeches; this one came easily, easier than any others. Because I wasn't playing the game, I was telling it to go fuck itself, and speaking from the heart was always going to be a surer bet than speaking pre-rehearsed words.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking today," I said to start, and my voice sounded so naturally strong and rang as clear as anything ever had, and that pushed me forward. "A lot of thinking. I can't claim to know everything about everybody here, but I know some things. I know that, when the outbreak struck, we became uncertain, fearful. How could the future seem at all bright, even just a little, when the world's been destroyed? Devastated by this disease, everything. The corpse of the United Kingdom, our homeland, picked clean by the fiendish Dementors afterwards... And then there's the winter to come, that desperate time of year when things are colder, darker, bleaker, but ultimately, I know that wizardkind will survive the winter, because we have the means and the power. The Muggles, on the other hand, are doomed if we do nothing. They've worked so hard, and so long, to survive to the level we have, and they'll never get to that. We all lost things in the devastation, sure, but they lost their identities, their livelihoods, their everything. The winter will come and sweep them into the waiting embrace of death, reanimation, and a hellish existence where instinct and the need for food are all there is. That's if the Dementors don't get there first, and we all know what they'll do to them is much worse than what the walking dead would ever achieve. The Muggles are trying to survive, just like us, because they're people, just like us. This whole time I've been trying to save them, but I have been going about it in the worst possible way. We all have. You know what we all have in common? We're playing the great game, the only game, the game of the Wizengamot."

I let that sink in for a moment. My tone had reached an angry pitch, a fever of frustration pouring out of me. All my inaction had been because of the Wizengamot, and for what? "It is a disease, just as bad as The Stigma, and it will kill us all, wizards and witches and Muggles, the longer we play it. Look at what it's done!" I held up six fingers, and brought them down every time I listed off a name. "Isaac Aquilla, Hoster Harper, Artemis Hart, Grey Gale, Draco Malfoy, Astoria Greengrass. All dead because of this game. Believe what you want to believe about the conspiracies we went over yesterday, but their deaths have everything to do with the schemers on this body making plans and plots and having people threatened, injured or killed, because it benefits the game they're playing. And I... I am not exempt from this. I have lied, cheated, spread rumours, made plots and schemes. put myself and my friends in danger, put people I don't even know in danger, and it's only been recently that I've fully realised how much pain the chain reaction would cause, how one move, carefully thought out, could lead to more death. Draco Malfoy was just as bad about it, you should know. He had plans going back since the beginning, since before, because he knew things others didn't and took advantage. He was so caught up that when he died in his arrogance, less than twenty-four hours ago, he doomed so many. Because the true threat out there is not the undead or the Muggles or ourselves, it's the Dementors. It's always been the Dementors. Draco's side constantly reminded us of that, but since he disagreed with me on how to deal with the Muggle situation, he doomed us all because he refused to let us be united against this threat."

A hollow laugh escaped my throat. "And I didn't help. Weeks ago, before I saw Liliford engulfed in the mist, I saw a Dementor swoop down and administer the Kiss to a member of my scavenging team, a kid barely out of his teens. You know what happened next? The kid stood up, and tried to kill us, tried to eat us. It was a zombie, but he was still alive. The Dementor managed to suck out enough of his soul to get its fill, and left a fragment of the instinctual, predatory, need to feed behind. He was faster, he was stronger, and while he died the same way, if a group of Dementors managed to turn a group of us, the chaos that would ensue...? I couldn't even imagine it. And one day that group of Dementors will be at our doorstep as an army, and they'll get this army from eating Granford, just like they ate Liliford. I kept this information, this and so much more, to myself, and why? I saw a tragic event and realised a horrifying revelation... and I wanted to use it, for this, for you all, for... This game."

And look where it's gotten me, and everyone else. Look at what the coming winter would do to us when the Dementors made their move. They would finish the job the outbreak began, the outbreak that went all the way back to Voldemort's experiments. One, long, mad, impossible, chain of events.

"I'm resigning my chair today, right now," I said quietly. "I'm putting us back in evenstall, but I don't care about that. You know why? Because it shouldn't matter. This vote, this wanting to pass the bill in the old, traditional, ways, is bullshit. Granford, the last bastion of surviving Muggles so close and yet so far, is in serious danger from the Dementors. Nobody here can act on it without the disclosure bill, and that disgusts me. How will you all live with yourselves if the Muggles end up dead? How will you all survive the long term if the Dementors have their army?" I shook my head. "I intend to go what needs to be done, to save what needs to be saved. I can't heal the Wizengamot, or save it from itself. I don't care if it breaks every law we have, I'm still going to try because it's the right thing to do, and I should've done it from the start. I want to try and live with myself when all's said and done, and this is how I'm going to do it. The question is..." I trailed off. "Are any of you going to do the right thing to achieve the same?"

I was greeted by blissful silence, slowly walking back to my chair as the Wizengamot took one great, deep, breath.

Then, Neville spoke. "I move to call for a vote."

"Seconded," said Susan Bones.

"Thirded," said Antioch Boot.

Chief Warlock Ogden nodded. "Then we are agreed; it's about time something was done. This bill has stagnated the body into diverting attention away from the important issues. It should have never been a question in the first place... It is time we voted, once and for all."

"I must say otherwise," Selwyn protested. "Draco Malfoy's death is a blow to us all, and while Healer Potter's resignation is something worth celebrating, the fact is that the Wizengamot can't move forward while in evenstall -"

"Then it will be resolved, and very soon," Ogden said.

"We are moving much too quickly -"

"Shall we vote on when to call the vote, then, Selwyn?" Ogden said. "I seem to recall that you were always one of the first to push for the vote as soon as possible."

"Circumstances have changed -"

"And yet, some have not." Ogden's eyes went steely with his resolve. "I am the Chief Warlock, and the decisions surrounding the vote begin and end with me. This has gone on long enough."

Selwyn's mouth flapped open and shut, and I knew then, without a doubt, his fire had been tempered by Malfoy's death and Astoria pointing me towards Draco's notes. I felt rather victorious about that.

"I move that the vote will be called right away, tonight, after a recess and the evenstall situation has been resolved," said Ogden. "Any objections?" There were none, unless you counted Selwyn crossing his arms in anger. "Good. Healer Potter has detailed to me the exact nature of the threat facing Granford, and the threat that would reach us soon after, and it is because of that that I wish for the vote to be called, and the fates of the Muggles sealed before they are outright destroyed. For the bill to pass and for emergency action to be taken in order to save Granford, a two-thirds majority vote must be counted. Failure to get that vote will result in the disclosure bill being shelved until further review, unless a vote is called to save it from ever seeing the light of day again."

"Given the seriousness of the situation, and the need for no more..." Robards searched for the word, frowning through his trimmed beard. "... Snags, in this process, I will have to ask that all of the members of the Wizengamot stay within the confines of the castle grounds. Rooms will be supplied and you will be kept as comfortable as possible, and your safety will be guaranteed by two Aurors detailed to each member. Further concerns or questions can be fielded to myself or Mr Stark, here."

Ogden nodded in agreement. "I leave you all now to your thoughts, and one of my own: this crisis is real, this threat is real, and now more than ever we have to be the best we can be. I encourage everyone here to do the right thing, or... as Healer Potter said, the Wizengamot is nothing more than a disease. I should very much not like for that to be true. If any of you have a solution to the evenstall, come forward." He raised his wand, and golden sparks shot out. "Dismissed."

He stood, and Robards and Stark did the same. Stark rolled up the day's dictation before following them out, leaving the Wizengamot members, and myself, alone for the Ritual of Shaking Hands. The ritual was the sort of thing that allowed for brief words between members, people wishing others luck, or making jokes or disparaging them the best they could, but today, everyone else shaking hands was quiet, and the only words exchanged happened when they came to me.

Brown and Patil were friendly and supportive, their handshakes conveying their encouragement, their promises to do the right thing when the vote came. Diggory was much the same, relaying that he understood why I was doing things, and just as supportive. Burke, Bulstrode and Parkinson all avoided me, and I made sure to grab Selwyn's hand and watch him try and fail to smirk triumphantly; there was nothing to be triumphant about, after all. Zabini, beautiful and deadly, had a dainty handshake filled with nothing, her features disdainful at my very existence - think I dodged a bullet by not going after her, in the end.

"I am reminded of the last time we shook," Cuffe said when I got to him. "It seems things have escalated."

"To put it lightly. Are you willing to listen to what I have to say, Cuffe? About you, about why you are the way you are?"

His eyes flashed. "I already know."

We released hands, but he didn't go. "Good," I said. "You've been going after the truth, this whole time? I can get you that truth, I have enough truth in my satchel to choke a lying man. But come on, this vote has nothing to do with that. You're the true enigma, Cuffe, and I can't decide where you'll vote. Because you've never said anything, or... Your papers aren't you. And just because you lost somebody doesn't mean you should sell out who you are. If they helped define you, why you fought, how you acted, that they're not around anymore doesn't mean you don't stop being who you were. It should be pushing you to fight, not making you roll over and become a shell."

"You're speaking from personal experience."

Of course I was. It hadn't even been a day since Astoria, and I had transferred my biggest want, the want to save her, to Granford, because that's what she wanted too. It went back to Sarah, as well, who was always the one out of the two of us that truly wanted to heal people, and save them. I'd gotten a lot of my own drive to save people from her death, a way of honouring her and holding onto anybody I could now, and she was a contributing factor to this. She would've encouraged me into doing things a better way, to telling the Wizengamot off a long time ago, and I didn't see that until Astoria died, the stakes became what they were, and everything else looked so petty in comparison.

"Mr Cuffe," I said. "It's more than possible to be the best man you can be despite your losses. I've done it."

"I'm not Harry Potter," he pointed out.

I barked a hollow laugh. "Don't make me sound like something I'm not. It's doable, and you can do it. Take the first step with the disclosure bill tonight. Even if you vote against it, as long as its a decision that they would've been proud of... Make it."

I left him to ponder that alone.

"It was a good speech," said Angus MacMillan, grasping my hand but not shaking it. "Do you truly believe in the Muggles so much? That you would save them personally?"

"This isn't about that, Angus," I commented. "Your fear of what they're capable of shouldn't be a true concern anymore. They're people, scared people, and worthy of saving."

"Those people attacked us at The Burrows, and were responsible for the deaths of many."

"Malfoy was responsible for that, and you know it. The Muggles have been no less manipulated than us, because the fear some people have for them."

MacMillan shook his head. "I don't want anymore loss over this issue, that's what it boils down to. I don't want any loss at all."

"Your son survived Granford," I pointed out. "He should've had a talk with you over how the Muggles work, and act."

"Antioch's nephew didn't survive Granford."

"Because people die!" I exclaimed. "It sucks, it truly does, but it happens. We're supposed to prevent more to help that, remember? I told you about why I became a Healer when we had lunch, and about why Johannsenn Hunt did the things he did. You may be scared of the capability of the Muggles, but think beyond them. Think about human nature as a whole. Malfoy and Harper and their friends have done much worse than a few fractured outlying groups of Muggles have done, and that's even with the knowledge they have of a society still existing! It won't be easy, to save the Muggles and integrate them with us, but it can be done! It should be done, to prevent death... to us all. The bigger picture, Angus. Your son believes in it, and so should you."

Angus MacMillan took a moment to ponder that. Ernie's words had set the path, just as predicted, but I had to do the rest. It wasn't even about the Wizengamot or the disclosure vote, not anymore. MacMillan was fearful of what the Muggles could do to our society once introduced and ingrained, and he would never be the only one. If I couldn't convince him, how could the rest of the wizarding public handle it?

I couldn't answer that, but I could safely say what the firm grip of MacMillan's hand told me. He was uncertain - and weren't we all - but ultimately, he was becoming swayed. Do or die, he was telling himself, and by the feel of things, he picked the first option.

He shook my hand, and smiled honestly when we released. "You shouldn't have so little faith in the Wizengamot, Harry," he said. "The body's organised, and there's nothing to fear from a bit of political corruption. In the end, they'll vote the right way because the people push the right way. If the stars align, that's where they'll go. But since I can't really help that, I'll say it now. My vote is yours." He nodded. "I'll never not be scared, but it's worth pushing past that."

"It really is," I said warmly. I gestured to Smith, hovering by, and he came up to us. "Smith." I shook his hand. "I want to apologise for never directly approaching you for your opinion on this matter. It was dismissive, and rude, and I'm sorry for that."

He blinked in surprise. "That's quite all right, Mr Potter."

"Your bill has our support," affirmed MacMillan. "Best of luck, wherever you may go. But, if I may ask... How will the evenstall be resolved?"

I shrugged. "Give it time. When the Wizengamot convenes next, you'll see."

The rest of the hall began to empty after MacMillan and Smith were gone, leaving myself, Neville and Susan alone. I'd avoided them in the handshaking ritual, saving them for last overall, because I needed more than just a moment and a terse handshake. I owed them that much.

They were hovering just beside Neville's seat, their expressions worried. Two of my friends, with all the conflict of days past standing between us. I kept my distance, but I tried to smile. "Hey guys," I said. "Didn't see that coming?"

"Not in the slightest," said Neville, chuckling ruefully. "I should've, though. Brilliant idea, called them all out... The evenstall, though..."

"I'll take care of that," I promised.

"If it goes through, the vote will go well."

"That I'll be glad for," I admitted. "But I meant what I said. This isn't a plot, it's... a culmination. This was a long time coming, and I knew it was coming eventually."

"You said you would resign when all of this was over," Susan said.

"It is over, unless I take this chance. Granford's in danger, and if they fall, we will all follow, and in more ways than one." I shook my head. "This whole time we've been calling it the Wizengamot 'game'. Game. It's not as if this wasn't the most necessary process in the world, it's just that its very nature can't be denied. It is a game, a corrupt little game I don't want any part of."

"But it's not just about that," Neville remarked. His eyes clouded over with remembered pain. "The losses are catching up." To Susan, he spoke, but his eyes never left mine. "He's trying to do the right thing, save as many as he can, because he hasn't been able to before now. Somebody always dies before the end. The lockdown at St Mungo's was just the beginning."

"Terry died too," I said. "And Hart."

"And I forgive you for that," said Susan. "I do, and I know that I've got funny ways of showing it, but I do respect, and trust, you. You don't have to do this, please."

"Yes I do. Of course I do."

"But you could be walking to your death! The Muggles have been manipulated and pushed, and with Draco Malfoy dead, they might be scared -"

I nodded grimly. "This I know."

"And if Selwyn or Parkinson give them orders, do what they want as long as you die -"

"Then it will happen - I made a target of myself, I know that, but it's what has to be done, Susan. Thank you, for forgiving me, but that won't change things."

"I'm sorry too, Harry," Neville piped up. "I know things between us haven't been all that friendly, and -"

I stopped him with a hand, smiling a little. "Mate, you've got nothing to forgive. I should be -"

"Well, no, I -"

"Is this about Astoria?" Susan asked. "I know you were the one who found her and Draco..."

"She's a factor," I said, because that's all I could say without having my voice crack. "Losing her's shown me that this is the right play, even if it kills me. Come on, I can't sit around anymore and play by the whims of the Wizengamot."

"But there's danger at Granford."

"He knows, Susan," Neville said, reaching out to grab her shoulder for a moment, before hastily withdrawing. "How close were you and Astoria?"

Close enough, I thought. But, I said, "Not as close as you two."

The two flinched as if struck, and I knew I was on the right track. It made a certain amount of sense, given their behaviours lately, particularly in regard to each other. Neville had always valued her opinion first and foremost, and Susan had appealed to him before anybody else, multiple times. When Hart died, it was Neville who knew and was concerned for Susan. From their reaction right now, I knew that they weren't just friends. They were in a relationship, and had been for some time.

"So how long?" I asked. "And why hide it?"

They shared a look. Slowly, Neville reached out and grabbed Susan's hand, though he still looked a bit of the nervous, shy, awkward, Neville from his teenager years as he did so. Some things never changed. "A few months ago," he said. "How did you -"

"I didn't, not really, not until recently," I admitted. "I know I can never claim to be perceptive, but I have my moments. It just sort of clicked, this moment of clarity. Maybe I was too concerned with myself before, I don't know."

"We didn't tell anybody because, well, we didn't want to jinx it," Susan explained. "At first, I mean. Then... We didn't want it to be a concern for our alliances. The Wizengamot frowns on inter-member relationships outside of marriage, and Merlin knows Stark doesn't care for Neville after he quit the Aurors, so my job was at risk. Mostly, it was because of you. Neville can explain it better, but, there was a certain amount of... guilt, I suppose?"

It clicked for me, again, as Neville shuffled his feet. "I wouldn't have begrudged you that," I said honestly. "Not ever. Just because I lost Sarah doesn't mean the world should stop for my friends." I frowned. "But I reacted badly, didn't I? I nearly killed you, when I lost her, and you were scared, or guilty, or... We've made a mess of things, haven't we?"

That got a chuckle out of the other two. "I know it's stupid," Neville said.

"Glad we got that out of the way," I said with a laugh, which evaporated immediately. "Before you offer, I'm not taking either of you to Granford."

"Why?"

"You're needed here, for one. There's not two people in this world I'd trust with the Wizengamot, even if I have technically told them all off and am really not supposed to care right now. The other reason? You two have a chance, now. Together, for the future." I sighed. "One I don't have with Sarah." Or Astoria.

Neville stepped forward. "I'm so sorry."

"And you shouldn't be, that's the worst part," I said sadly. "My reaction was too much, considering what you did, I should be thanking you for the rest of my life. You spared me from seeing something plenty others have seen, but I haven't... The reanimation of a loved one, I can't imagine, and I've seen a lot. You saved me from that, Neville Longbottom. She was in pain and you ended it, you stopped the screams." I heard her screams over and over in my head, but I never heard them taper out into a bloody gurgle, a shriek expiring into her painful death. Neville had killed her before it got to that point. "I'd do the same for you."

He looked at Susan, and back at me. "Thank you."

I nodded to him, and turned my own attention to his girlfriend. "You asked about Astoria. I know you had your doubts about her, and I never blamed you for that. I was annoyed, yes, and Hart's death gave you more than enough quarter to hate me, but know this: Astoria was important to me."

"Harry, I was the one who was concerned," Neville admitted. "That... I wasn't sure you could trust her, and I didn't want you to set yourself up for pain. Because you fell for her, the first woman since Sarah, and... I'd been on the wrong side of that reaction before."

"No, I get that... But this is different. The only reason she's dead is because of her husband. Her husband, that arrogant swot, got himself killed, and she died for it. However, the only reason she was in that situation? She was there helping me. That's my guilt, and that's why I won't be dissuaded. Granford comes next. Susan, you understand?"

"I understand," she said, her eyes shining. "And again, thank you, for this."

This meaning her and Neville. I hadn't pushed them away to save them, no, I explained to them, told them everything there was to know, and let them know they were needed elsewhere. Bringing them to Granford with me, and potentially breaking their future like my own futures with Sarah or Astoria were broken. Make no mistake, the deadly situation I was walking into might just be the last. But I wasn't going to dwell on death, or even the possibility of my unlife. It was life I was concerned about, and these days I'd do everything I could to save as many as I could. Especially if it ended with my death.

"There's something else." Susan frowned. "You just publicly declared to the Wizengamot your intention to take matters of Granford into your own hands."

"Yeah, I did."

"Some people might take that as a sign you will break the Statute. Break the laws the bill's trying to circumvent. Harry, the laws haven't been changed yet; the vote's tonight. Your declaration's going to get somebody cross -"

As if on cue, the double doors of the Great Hall swung open, three men in Auror robes storming into the room.

"Robards, for example?" I commented to Susan. "Yeah, I saw this coming. Good thing, I have enough time to say a few words to him."

"The Minister just wants to talk," said one of the Aurors, a tall man with dark hair. "If you would..."

I nodded. "Of course," I said amiably. "Neville, Susan, it's been a blast. Rally the Wizengamot best you can. There'll be time for a debate before the vote, so unload on all sides. Selwyn's been neutered by the fact Draco's not writing his speeches, so remember that and you'll be fine."

"Wait a second," said Susan, "The evenstall. Robards. You..."

"I told you I'd take care of it. Robards might be helpful."

"I thought you didn't care about this game," Neville said with a grin.

"That doesn't mean a little part of me hopes to be proven wrong about them all. Even if I don't live to see it." I unclipped the brooch on my lapel, tossing it to Susan to catch. "I'm done." I shucked out of my plum robes - I was wearing jeans and a T-shirt underneath - and vanished them with a wave of my wand. I shook Neville's hand and gave Susan a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Good luck."

I turned from them, my resolve steeling as the Aurors stepped out of the way for me. Granford was waiting, but Minister Robards would have to come first, it seemed. Well, I'd hate to disappoint him.

..::..-.-..::..

"Take a seat, Potter," said the Minister for Magic Gawain Robards, already seated. His tone of voice was gruff, authoritative; he was channelling his Auror days. Already looking to pick a fight, if I had to guess.

I crossed the office and took my chair. It was much like Ogden's office, the Minister's, but the desk separating us was made of rich oak, trimmed with silver and unburdened by any paperwork or personal effects. It was the type of desk that was either there to show off, or told of Robards's fastidious nature; he had no paperwork on his desk because that paperwork was done hours ago. Neither would surprise me at this point.

"Guess you were looking forward to this," I said once I was seated. "I would've come eventually, you know, didn't need the Auror escort."

Said escorts shut the door behind them now, leaving me and the Minister alone.

Robards's face hadn't changed since I came in. He was not looking too happy, with the lines on his forehead hard and unforgiving. "Didn't I? That you haven't talked to me as of late might just be a sign of something. You didn't deign yourself to chew me out over The Burrows? Happened on my watch, you'd say. And then Ogden, who told me of his poisoning, and how, even with my assistance, his family was in enough danger that he would run to you, instead." His eyes narrowed. "That you haven't talked to me over either of these things could yet be a sign of guilt, Potter. Are you? Guilty?"

I snorted. "Nothing to be guilty for, is there? I resigned from the Wizengamot, so I have this warm little rush of free conscience."

"Oh yes, that was an interesting move."

"Took you by surprise, didn't it."

"As did your declaration to go save Granford, because it's the right thing to do." The Minister tapped two fingers on his desk, his gaze turning calculating through the veil of gruffness. "Such a thing would no doubt involve an alliance with the Muggles, and the breaking of the Statute of Secrecy. And you threw it in my face."

"It's not like Malfoy wasn't doing the same," I retorted. "You may not've shown up to any of the other meetings, but I'm sure Stark and Ogden told you. You're the Minister for Magic, and you get every report that comes from your people in Granford. You know about the crops, and the electric fence, and probably know some more I've missed. The Statute has been broken, Aaron Fortess has been manipulated, and me going to stop him isn't breaking anything. It's already broken, and Malfoy broke it."

"Draco Malfoy, who died under mysterious circumstances last night," said Robards. "Hours after lambasting you in a Wizengamot meeting, embarrassing your side by making you seem paranoid. From what I heard, he did a fine job. His death is still being investigated, and despite the evidence, there's a shocking amount of things that just don't make sense. A few more footprints in the blood that don't belong to Draco or Astoria Malfoy. Signs of a battle. A fire in their study that looks like it was started after they were both dead. Could be a cover up... and Ogden tells me Gale died, too. We have no idea where he is, but you said you saw him die. How am I doing so far?"

I met his gaze evenly. "Could be right, could be wrong. Could also be you who's far-reaching. Malfoy's dead, and he's not what you wanted to talk about. Not what I want to talk about. So let's get down to the real issue here, Robards."

"Your issue, with me," Robards said, pointing a gnarled finger to me, and then back to him. "It goes back, doesn't it?"

"I never did care for you trying to poach me from Hunt's team, but that's to be expected. You needed the Aurors."

"Needed Harry bleeding Potter, more like." He shook his head. "I mean a little more recent. A year ago, even. Auror Lobell's death."

I kept my face as blank as possible. "Lobell died in the lockdown. That's all there is to it."

"Bullshit," Robards said flatly. "Neville Longbottom came to me a year ago. He had just resigned from the Aurors, and wanted to let me know why. He told me what I had done wrong as a Head Auror, in keeping the outbreak secret, and allowing Lobell and his ilk to rally."

"And look what happened when they did," I said. "If Neville told you about that, he would've definitely told you what Lobell did to Carrie Cauldwell -"

Robards held up a placating hand. "I am not defending Lobell's actions. He and his group went behind my back and could've caused a lot more harm than good, despite their intentions. I dealt with them all after Longbottom told me. Most were dead, Savage was marginalised, and Samuel Stark pledged himself to me. I believed him, and I still do, because he didn't like what he did. When I became Minister, I chose him as my Senior Undersecretary because of that trust... But I digress. The point I was making is that my inaction caused Lobell's group to form, and you're worried of the same thing happening now. On a grander scale, in fact, given my new position."

I can't say the thought hasn't crossed my mind, once or twice. Robards's tendency to just let things happen as they do might have caused a lot of pain and death. It wasn't just that simple, however, and I pounced at the chance to expand on his logic. "It goes back to Kingsley, as well," I said.

"And the manner of my ascension to Minister?" he guessed.

"Yes. Kingsley Shacklebolt did a lot of good when he escaped the Ministry when it got overrun. He took care of his people, set the Ministry up here at Hogwarts, and immediately after, he sought to rectify his mistake with the Muggles. He knew of the outbreak, knew it was magical, had heard the reports that could've linked it to The Stigma, and despite that, he wasn't able to act in time. So he did what he had to, and he did it well. He cleared paths to Granford and Liliford for survivors fleeing the bigger cities. He put people in each town. He started the supply drop-off system. He acted."

"He did at that," Robards agreed, smiling to himself a little. "He was a damn good Minister. Better than Fudge, Scrimgeour, all the others I've seen."

"He was poor in one aspect, but all-too human at the same time," I said. "He resigned because of his own guilt. He did as much as he could, but there was no not facing the facts: the outbreak happened. A magical disease killed billions, and Kingsley wasn't the type of person not to feel that. The Muggle government appealed to him, and he didn't act in time. So of course he wanted to resign. He kept himself in the action, though, with the DMLE and the scavenging teams. Problem was... He left you in charge."

Robards said nothing.

"You've kept us going despite it all," I admitted. "But that's all of it. You've been passive, you've been letting things happen. Malfoy and his people being allowed to become like they are is just as bad as Lobell and his people, just on a bigger scale. You're not focusing on surviving, just existing. You're a day-to-day Minister. And we can't have that, not now, not with the disclosure bill and the Dementors on the horizon."

"You think me corrupt," he said quietly. "You think that I'm corrupted by my own nature. You think I should be doing more."

"Yes." Really, it was that simple. "Yes I do. Malfoy spent more time and effort on Ogden because he thought him to be the harder target, and he was right. He could waltz in here naked, firing Killing Curses at your potted plants, and you wouldn't blink. He wanted your inaction to drive a wedge between you and me, and dammit, he basically succeeded. Despite your promises to protect the Wizengamot from escalating rivalries, people have still died. You weren't able to prevent the deaths of Aquilla, Harper, Hart, Gale, even Malfoy. Your assurances and your veiled threats to me to not toe that line weren't working. Malfoy was banking on all of this. We are predictable people, and insignificant. You know what we do in reply to that?"

"What?"

"We prove them wrong," I said firmly. "We fight back. We do what's necessary. And I know that your hands are tied in places, but they're not in others."

My words were beginning to win him over, I saw. The harder lines melted, and determination set in his eyes. He was just as pissed off as I was at the manipulations, because he ultimately wanted the disclosure to pass, and the games Malfoy and I had played hadn't done much for that. "How so?" he asked.

"Kingsley didn't resign and give you the job because you're a caretaker, Robards. We both know you're not just keeping the seat warm. You are the Minister for fucking Magic, the authority, the leader, of everyone. You need to act like it, or this bill will get shot down tonight, and all our work will be for nothing. Do the right thing."

"And how would you like me to do that?"

"Go back to your roots. Be the Auror that you once were." I reached into my satchel, the one I'd been carrying with me all night and all day. The notes I wanted were right there, waiting. "Take these." I tossed them on his immaculate desk. "These were written by Draco Malfoy. I didn't trust the idiot, but I trust these notes." Because Astoria died to give them to me. Because they all made sense. "Don't ask anymore questions, and I won't ask you some in return. We're even for Lobell, and Harper, and everyone else. Got it?"

He cautiously took the sheets of parchment from the desk, and scanned the first few lines. "I... see," he said carefully. "I suppose I should thank you."

"Let's not," I replied. "And I won't either, not until you act. You have what you need, to break the evenstall, or to stop the Wizengamot from moving at all... The next choice is yours. Use the file, don't use the file. Save the Muggles, don't. Regardless, I'm heading out to try. Even it breaks all the laws, even if the disclosure bill doesn't save me later on. You and your people can't help. It goes back to integrity, whether or not you can stick to your convictions, even if it pisses off a whole bunch of people. You've been telling us that you want this bill to pass, but there's a difference between telling and showing, of making that move. I'm doing that now." Now are you going to do the same? the unasked question was.

Robards placed the notes back onto the desk. He stared me down for a moment, face displaying no hostility yet no friendliness either. "Don't let me keep you," he said dismissively. "Do what needs to be done. I won't arrest you for it. I'll tell the operatives we have in Granford to stay out of your way."

This time, I was the one wondering if I should say thanks. In the end, I decided against it. I left Robards's office just as I left the Wizengamot, with the hope that they'll both yet do the right thing.

..::..-.-..::..

Hogwarts closed its doors to me once more, and this time I didn't walk out into the rain. The clouds were grey and the grass was wet, but the air was still, steady and calm. I walked out into this still air, mild in temperature, and took a moment to ready myself. This was it. This was the moment that would decide everything important for the future, but more importantly, it would decide if the losses of the past were truly worth it or not.

It was later in the afternoon. This time yesterday, I was fighting with Draco Malfoy. Hours later I found his corpse, along with Astoria's... It's safe to say it felt longer. A logical part of me should've been tired and weary, but I wasn't. No potions, no spells, this was just pure want keeping me up.

"So how did it go?" a familiar voice asked from behind me. I turned and saw Ron, leaning on the castle's walls. He was dressed in heavy clothes; all black, a combat uniform. He looked as tired as I should've been, but wasn't drunk or hungover - he walked towards me in a steady gait, itching his covered arm absently. "The meeting?"

"Good," I replied. "All worked out, and the vote just might go well. Shame I won't be there for it, but it's for the best."

Ron's lips twitched upwards. "Yeah. So when are we going to Granford?"

I didn't even need to argue; he wanted to come, he was there. "Heading off now. Doubtless, we'll be at it for a while, with Fortess."

We began to walk towards the gates in silence, and we were halfway there when Ron asked the question. "Harry, how close were you and Astoria?"

Unlike with Neville and Susan, I didn't need to deflect. Ron deserved more than that, and he'd understand. Oh Merlin he would understand. "Close," I said, my voice barely louder than a whisper. "A part of me knows that we moved so quickly out of desperation, but that doesn't change it. Close. Closer than I would've dared to imagine. It felt good, you know? After everything, to just have somebody."

"I know the feeling," Ron said quietly.

I nodded. "After Sarah I never thought I would, but I did, for a few days I had something. And now..."

It almost hit me then. Not quite, but almost. Astoria was dead, and every part of me knew that, but there was a difference between knowing and knowing, at a fundamental level, that she was truly dead, dead, dead, and I'd never see, hear, touch her again...

I cleared my throat uncomfortably. "Yeah, you know what's it like."

"I do, I do." He frowned. "I miss Megan too, and Hermione, and the rest. Suppose that's why we're doing this? Feeling like it's our last move?"

"It's our best one, even if it kills us," I confirmed. "We might suffer the same fate as Terry, but dammit, I need to set this right. Fortess doesn't comprehend, not fully, how much of a danger Nott is."

"Nott already destroyed Liliford," said Ron. "Megan..."

For his own sake, I'd spared him from the full details of how Nott killed Megan. Relaying that kind of message would be a surefire way to get Nott killed, which is exactly what the Dementors would want. They were counting on it, which is why I had to convince Fortess before he, or someone close to him who had already killed somebody I knew in a rage, pulled the trigger and unleashed hell on his own town.

The Aurors at the gates let us pass without any fuss, and we wandered out into the woodland for a bit before preparing to apparate. We did a quick check of our assets: wands, and ourselves, nothing but.

"So this is it?" Ron asked. "If we're going to go down swinging, might as well go together, right?"

I clasped him on the shoulder. "As it should be, mate." The moment passed in silence. "Come on, enough standing around."

I turned on the spot, pictured the hill overlooking the town where we apparated from last night, and concentrating all I could into apparating. I was pushed and pulled, twisted and turned, but the sensation wasn't unfamiliar, and I'd felt much worse while standing still enough times so this wasn't an issue. When I next opened my eyes, the air was much cooler, heavy with that feeling in between one deluge of rain and before the next. Sunlight was blocked by the stormy clouds, but it was light enough to see Granford in all its glory, just waiting for us; it hadn't been swallowed by the mist, not yet.

Ron and I trudged down the hill and onto the road, slipping into our concealments as we did - I put on my Invisibility Cloak, he used a Disillusionment Charm.

The road was empty and quiet, and before long the two bridges of Granford lay before us. There was the old, weather-beaten bridge aptly called the Old Bridge, and the Tent Bridge, lined with dark green tents of all sizes and with the sentry count to match, all centred around the two, long, poles sitting in the middle of the bridge, able to be seen by every part of the town. In an attack, the Two Flares would be lit to attract mobs of zombies towards the bridges, the rest of the town plunged into darkness. Whether or not that plan would hold up to Dementors, we'd see. Ron and I took the Old Bridge to get across with no problem, and our triumphant return into the town proper was a bit anti-climatic.

Once in the town, we made our way into an alleyway. "Are we removing the disguises?" Ron asked from somewhere at my side; I couldn't see him, after all.

"Sends the wrong message if we outright sneak into the station to see Fortess," I said, even though we had to sneak across the bridge in order to avoid getting shot on sight.

I pocketed my cloak in the alleyway around the corner from the station, after we crossed the mostly-abandoned centre square. Ron tapped the top of his head to remove the Disillusionment, and, that done, we headed out into the street. It was empty, at first glance, and if there was anybody watching from the windows, I couldn't see them.

Satisfied, but still cautious, we made our way down the path and toward the station, footsteps pounding through the puddles on the -

The outline of another footstep stood on the puddle before us.

My right arm suddenly erupted in a hot, stinging, sensation, and when I tried to flick my wand out of its holster, I found it wasn't there anymore. Through the pain I dimly registered the long cut on my arm, enough to sever the straps of my invisible holster, and the shape of it flying forward into the puddle by the invisible person's feet. Behind me, Ron swore as a jet of red light soared towards him. I blocked it out as a rush of blood pumped through my veins, pushing me to the ground to grab for my wand -

A dark boot stepped forward, and a slim hand reached down and picked up my wand holster, pocketing it and the wand inside in their jacket.

When I looked up, I was staring into the abyss of a gun barrel, the same gun barrel Terry had been staring down just last night. The same gun that killed him.

"Don't even try," said Juliet O'Flynn, scowling down at me. Her hair was plastered to her head, wet from the earlier rain, and the pistol was held in her hands with the same eerie steadiness I saw last night. Her eyes briefly darted away from me, to something at her side. "Meadowes, you get him?"

"Yeah," said Lucas Meadowes, shimmering into view as his own Disillusionment Charm wore off. I couldn't even fathom the shock, and rage, I felt at seeing him there. He refused to meet my eyes. "He's unconscious too."

"Good. I need you to grab two more people for me."

My heart began to pound.

"Who?" Meadowes asked.

"The barkeep, and the small Asian girl they brought with them the first time," said Juliet. "They're both magical, like these two, and Fortess will want to talk to them." Lucas nodded his assent and flicked up the Disillusionment again, and Juliet's attentions flickered towards me entirely. "Thought you could sneak back in that easily? We know you're little game, Potter, and I'm not going to let you in on your terms. Fortess won't look too kindly to this, so whatever your plan is, you better substitute it for a quick death." A haunted little smile flittered over her expression. "Like your friend Terry."

How did she know? echoed throughout my head. How did she know I was coming? I started to say, "Listen, I don't -" but she flipped the gun in her hands and rushed the butt end forward, and the words died in my throat the moment my head took the hit.

Darkness swept into my vision, and I fell into blissful unconsciousness.

..::..-.-..::..

To Be Continued in Chapter Fifteen: Incarceration...

..::..-.-..::..

Post-Chapter Notes:

- Author's Note :: My eventual dissatisfaction for the politics storyline I wrote myself into probably shows a bit here, and while it was always the plan for Harry to bail on the Wizengamot and call them on their shit, I probably shouldn't have had so much fun writing it. In one chapter I excise a good deal of storylines and plots, and the resolves should tell you all what the goal of each of the Wizengamot members' storylines was, and that was to reflect on Harry, to make him the better person in letting go of various demons. I dunno, it was just the intent. 50/50 on succeeding, lol.

- Next Chapter Tease :: Harry and Fortess put it all on the line, but those around them still keeping secrets might yet lead to devastation.

- Wizengamot Scorecard ::

- Pro-Disclosure :: Neville, Susan, Boot, Brown, Patil, Diggory, MacMillan, Smith.

- Anti-Disclosure :: Parkinson, Bulstrode, Selwyn, Burke.

- Swing Votes :: Zabini, Cuffe.

- Former Members :: Bill Weasley (Resigned), Isaac Aquilla (Dead), Hoster Harper (Dead), Artemis Hart (Dead), Grey Gale (Forcibly resigned, then killed). Draco Malfoy (Dead), Astoria Malfoy (Replaced Gale, then killed), Harry Potter (Resigned).

- Member Count :: Fourteen.

- Status :: Evenstalled.

Thanks for reading!

..::..-.-..::..