Harry lay prone, bound, and helpless as he looked around the clearing. All those he knew and loved lay on the ground, bound head to foot by magical rope. Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, Remus, Tonks, his Mom and Dad, all of the Weasleys… Ginny! Voldemort leered at Harry. "Look at how weak you are. Potter the coward, hiding behind his friends. Letting them die so you can save yourself! Well, once no one's left to hide behind, you will be mine." The others joined in. "Thanks for nothing Harry!" "We believed in you Harry." "We thought you had some special magic… You're Nothing!" The most cutting came from Ginny, "And to think I thought I loved you at one time. I was such a fool!" One by one, Voldemort performed the 'Avada Kadavra' curse on each of them. Harry, helpless, could only scream. "No! Take me! Leave them alone! It's me you want, not them! NOT GINNY! PLEASE, PLEASE, NOT GINNY!"
He arose with a start. The nightmare had been particularly vivid.
Looking around, trying to get his bearings, Harry realized he was in his four-poster bed in the Gryffindor boys' dormitory. The room was pitch-black save the moonlight filtering through the window. His entire body ached, but nowhere more so than his chest. He was little more than a mass of cuts, bruises, blood and dirt. Looking himself over, he realized that most of the blood was dried. Only on his chest did Harry see any fresh blood. He arose slowly and stiffly, and reached for his end table, fumbling for his glasses. He found his glasses along with three wands, his own now-repaired holly wand, Dumbledore's Elder Wand, and Draco Malfoy's wand. Unsteadily, he moved around the room's nearly complete darkness. He noticed each of the other beds was occupied. He knew Ron was in his own bed. Having lived with him for seven years, Harry knew Ron's snores. However, at first Harry did not recognize the smaller figure next to Ron. After a few more steps through the room, Harry glimpsed the bushy brown hair laid across Ron's chest. Hermione had joined Ron during the night. A smile crossed Harry's lips. 'Finally,' he thought.
Glancing down at the watch the Weasleys had given him for his seventeenth birthday, Harry learned that it was only three in the morning. He looked down at the three wands in his hand and knew what he had to do next. He shuffled over to his trunk, put on his jacket, and grabbed his invisibility cloak. With a snap that belied his physical pain and fatigue, Harry threw his invisibility cloak over his head, turned toward the door, and headed down the stairs to the common room. He paused at the bottom of the stairs, taking in the silhouettes of several witches and wizards asleep on the various threadbare but comfortable chairs and couches in the room.
Harry passed through the portal of the Gryffindor tower and hobbled through the dark, rubble-strewn corridors of Hogwarts castle. Had he been more attuned to his environment, he would have noticed the whisper of footsteps behind him. Once he reached the entrance hall, he found that his concern for having the strength to open the hall's vast doors was for naught. The battle had taken care of that problem as the doors lay on the ground outside, having been blown off their hinges. Harry stepped into the cool night air, crossing the lawn toward the Black Lake and the tomb of his friend and mentor, the late Headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore.
Reaching inside his pocket, Harry extracted the three wands. Recognizing Draco Malfoy's old wand, he placed the other two wands in his back pocket. Walking to the edge of the lake, Harry snapped Draco's wand in half and yet in half again. With a great heave, Harry ensured that all four pieces of the Malfoy wand settled themselves at the bottom of the lake.
Turning to his right, Harry headed toward the tomb. There, he stood silently in the dark, staring down at the remains of the greatest wizard and man he ever met.
"I'm sorry Professor. I tried my best. It just wasn't good enough."
Harry reached into his back pocket and extracted the Elder Wand. With tears streaming down his cheeks, Harry placed the Elder Wand in Albus' hands and stood back. Without conscious thought or word, Harry waved his hands across the top of the tomb and watched quietly as the great marble slabs, cracked into pieces by Tom Riddle just a few days prior, resealed themselves seamlessly atop of the grave. Overcome with exhaustion once again, Harry collapsed back into the ground and wept bitterly.
The sun had not yet broken over the horizon when the snap of a twig broke Harry's focus. After glancing toward the forest with no real interest, Harry resumed his vigil next to the grave. He had not noticed the three individuals in black robes and silver masks peering at him from behind the trees. He also hadn't noticed the two aurors standing behind him some fifteen meters away.
The shout of "Avada Kadavra" hardly registered in Harry's brain until it was nearly too late. He rolled to his left and the green jet of light whizzed past his right shoulder – he could feel the heat of the curse through his cloak. Hearing a grunt, he hastily looked behind him and watched one of the aurors fall, her face contorted in surprise as her lifeless body fell to the ground with a grunt. Concurrently, Harry heard a shout of "Stupify" from the other auror and a bolt of red light fired into the Forbidden Forest. Turning back, he watched three Death Eaters rush toward them. Without conscious thought, Harry's hands thrust forward, his palms facing his attackers, as an unexpected surge of power coursed through him. He watched as their bodies flew back in the direction of the forest, each of their bodies smacking against trees and rocks until their limp bodies came to a stop some twenty metres inside the tree line. The remaining auror rushed after them and immediately bound them with magical rope. Once that task was completed, the auror disarmed them and checked their condition. Only one showed any sign of breathing, the other two had breathed their last.
The sounds of rushing feet behind Harry told him they were no longer alone. He turned and watched Kingsley and several other aurors dashing to the scene. "Harry," Shacklebolt stated breathlessly, "Come with us! Move it!" Harry paused shortly to look into the face of the dead auror, and received a shove to the back by one of the aurors. With more tears brewing on the edges of his eyes, he felt Kingsley and another auror grasp him under his arms and hastily usher him toward the main gates of Hogwarts.
Setting himself in one of the guest chairs in Kingsley's new office, Harry started to shiver almost uncontrollably. He felt nauseous and clammy, as though he'd had the flu. However, Harry knew the cause of his condition, yet another senseless death.
'This war was supposed to be over, but another life has been snuffed out because of me. She was so young, probably Tonks' age, if not younger. I didn't even know her. What if I'd asked Ron, or Hermione, or, god forbid, Ginny to come with me? That could have been one of them lying there! I got to stop this! I got to get away and stay away until this madness ends!'
At that moment, Harry knew what he had to do. He just didn't know how to do it.
A bleary-eyed Temporary Minister of Magic quickly passed through the anteroom and entered his office. Kingsley Shacklebolt paused, looking at the dregs before him. He stood behind the boy – no, the young man – for several moments. Harry was in terrible condition. Long greasy black hair sticking up in several directions, shaking and sweating profusely, scarred and bruised beyond belief, Harry looked like the most broken of men, both physically and emotionally. Kingsley cleared his throat to break Harry from his obvious reverie. Approaching and sitting behind his desk, Kingsley noticed the fresh blood staining the front of Harry's shirt. He made a mental note to add a trip to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies onto Harry's 'to do' list, and to give it a high priority.
Kingsley began, "Harry, I need to go over several matters with you…"
"Who was she, Kingsley?" Harry interrupted quietly but firmly.
"Uh, pardon? Who are you…"
"The auror at Dumbledore's gravesite. Who was she?" Harry asked a little more sharply.
"Oh, um, her name was Alison Friel…"
"I never met her…"
"No, well, I suppose you wouldn't have. She's, er, she was, Irish. One of several foreign aurors helping us out because we lost so many during the war."
"Did she have family?" Harry asked.
Kingsley became uncomfortable. This meeting was not going as planned.
"A husband and a daughter, I think," he responded quietly and respectfully.
Harry said nothing, but his mind was running in overdrive, 'Two more lives altered forever for the worse because of me. I didn't even know this witch and now she's dead simply because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time, simply because she happened to be close by. Merlin forbid, if I had awoken Ron or Hermione or Ginny and asked them to accompany me!"
Kingsley noticed Harry's discomfort, but chalked it up to his physical pain and mental exhaustion. Trying to steer the meeting back on track, Kingsley restarted.
"Now Harry, here's the situation. Unfortunately, too many Death Eaters escaped during and after the battle. We are assigning protection details to several key members of the resistance until they are caught, or at least until the threat is somewhat neutralized. Sorry, I didn't get a chance to tell you about the detail assigned to you, but you, as you now know, the Weasleys, Hermione Granger, the Longbottoms, the Lovegoods, including Mr. Lovegood once he returns from Azkaban… I want all of you guarded and to be on your guard."
Kingsley was getting the impression that Harry was somewhat disinterested, but continued.
"We need safe-houses for the lot of you. The Burrow, the Longbottom home, 12 Grimauld Place… all were razed to the ground by the Death Eaters. If you have any ideas about where all of you should stay, I'd like to hear them."
At this news, Harry seemed to snap to attention but still remained quiet.
"Oh, and Molly's quite adamant that wherever the Weasleys are settled, you and Hermione are to stay with them." Kingsley added with a small smile.
'Fat chance of that happening,' Harry thought, 'everyone within one hundred meters of me dies.'
Again, Kingsley noticed Harry's wincing discomfort, but once again gave it up for Harry's physical and emotional condition. He was having a hard time reading Harry. After a short pause, Kingsley segued to the next topic.
"We will need a report from you, Ron, and Hermione on what you three have been up to for the last year and on your roles in the war. We will also need a report from you regarding what happened at Dumbledore's tomb this morning. Next, you and I will need to prepare press releases and set up some conferences to minimize the amount of misinformation that will, no doubt, be spreading about the war and your adventures of the past year. Whether you like it or not, you are going to be both a darling and a foil of the press for a very, very long time." Kingsley paused with a grimace. He knew of Harry's distain for the press. Harry was by nature a private man, almost the classic introvert in a way.
Kingsley pushed on, raising the tone of his voice a bit, "However, the reports, press releases, and conferences can wait for a bit. There are two more pressing matters that require your attention. Firstly, I've met with the Goblin leadership of Gringotts Bank. They're seriously angry, Harry. I explained to them that you had a very noble and unselfish reason for breaking in to the bank… umm, you did have a noble reason for the break-in, didn't you?"
Kingsley wasn't sure if he wanted to hear the answer. He let out a deep breath once Harry slowly and subtly nodded his head, his eyes staring at his feet.
"Good, they will be here within the hour to discuss the matter." The sound of relief evident in Kingsley's tone of voice now turned grave. "But I have to warn you, Harry. The Goblins are looking for restitution from you three."
Harry nodded his head, still staring at his feet. He expected as much. He knew Goblins could be vicious, particularly when it came to money and property.
"Harry, the Goblins estimate the damage to Gringotts to be 75 million galleons."
"HOW MUCH?" Harry shouted. He had a fair amount of gold in his vault, and he knew Hermione's parents were muggle dentists, so they might have some money, but Ron and the Weasleys never had any money. There was no way the trio could pay for the damage caused to the bank. Harry's reverie was broken as Kingsley continued.
"Seventy-Five Million. I'm sorry to have to break the news to you, Harry, but I thought you ought to hear this from a friend first. I'm sure this will wipe you out financially."
Kingsley paused to let the matter settle in as a look of sadness and empathy settled on his face. This brave young man just finished a year of sheer horror and saved the wizarding race, and now he would be financially crippled, poorer perhaps than even Arthur's family.
"I was able to mitigate the issue somewhat by negotiating away the Sword of Godric Gryffindor. I have arranged for the Goblins to retake possession of the sword and I was able to negotiate some concessions in exchange. They are to keep it on display at the Gringotts and are to allow the sword to present itself to any Gryffindor in a time of need. The wizard in possession of the sword will have five days to return it to Goblin possession after the need for it has passed. After five days, the wizard will be charged a fee of twenty-five galleons per day until it is returned.
"In return for handing over the Sword of Gryffindor, the Goblins have agreed that they will not seek, shall we say, 'physical retribution' from you three as a result of the break-in. I believe they will just take whatever gold is in your vaults and have done with it. Are you alright with this arrangement?"
Harry nodded, not really caring about the sword, or the gold, or much else for that matter. All of this was too much for him. His determination had solidified. He will be leaving the wizarding world. He'd had enough. He didn't care about the money; the Goblins could have it. After that, he would be gone. He'd go get a muggle job and live a muggle life somewhere. It was best for everyone.
"Would you like me to accompany you in the Goblin meeting?" Kingsley asked.
Harry shook his head. 'What was the point?' he thought.
"The second immediate, pressing issue is your health, Harry. Frankly, you look like shite and I don't appreciate your bleeding all over my carpet."
Kingsley's attempt at humor was met with something close to a non-frown. It was not a smile or even a smirk, but it was an improvement.
"After your meeting with the Goblins, I'm having you escorted to St. Mungo's."
"I'm fine, Kingsley, really," Harry appealed.
"I'm sure you think you are, Harry. But, you still have several open wounds that look impacted with grime. If you don't have healers clean you up, those cuts could become infected and then you're only asking for bigger trouble, alright?"
Harry nodded and conceded, too exhausted to debate the point.
"Good, I have to go to Hogwarts to discuss matters with Minerva McGonagall and to inform the Weasleys, Longbottoms and Lovegoods about the loss of their homes. They will be coming back here in a few hours where they will meet with you and me to discuss safe-houses and protection details, okay?"
After another of Harry's nods of indifference, Kingsley concluded, "Good luck with the Goblins and I will see you when you get back from St. Mungo's."After another of Harry's nods of indifference, Kingsley concluded, "Good luck with the Goblins and I will see you when you get back from St. Mungo's."
A/N: Okay, so I was a little disappointed with the last chapter, 0 reviews! If anyone has any feedback, please share, or at least let me know if you're interested.
Anyways, enough of me, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and stay tuned for more!
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