As always, all rights are given to the owners of the Harry Potter copyright.
One did not simply ignore the Minister for Magic when he requested a meeting, even if the one in question was the Boy Who Lived, the Man Who Won.
So on a sunny Friday morning in August, Harry Potter made his way to the Ministry of Magic. Three months after the Battle of Hogwarts, the Ministry was even busier than Harry remembered it from his previous visit. Well, his previous official visit. For a lot of reasons, he preferred to forget the fight in the Department of Mysteries had ever happened.
Still, he made his way across the cavernous space to the visitor's desk without being recognized - or at least, without being accosted if he were recognized. Making time to visit an eye healer had been one of the best decisions he'd made. He couldn't get rid of the scar on his forehead, but the lack of glasses and his hair falling over the scar made for effective concealment.
The guard - a woman perhaps half again his age whose charisma made her seem younger than she was -manning the visitor's desk wasn't familiar to him, but still Harry offered her a smile. "Good morning. I'm here to see the Minister."
Harry offered her the letter Shack had sent and frowned when he saw her mouth hanging open a centimeter.
"Y-you're Harry Potter," she said.
"I believe so," he replied. She sat staring at him long enough that a queue began to form behind him.
He cleared his throat. "Don't you need to check my wand in?"
"Oh!" The guard sat up straighter and accepted the wand he offered, placing it on the scales.
"Holly and phoenix feather," she recited without checking the scales. "In use seven years. Everything seems in order, sir."
"Thank you." Harry accepted his wand back from her, idly wondering what her reaction would've been if he'd offered her the Elder Wand concealed up his left sleeve.
Elder and thestral tail hair. In use seven hundred years, give or take a decade.
The thought kept Harry amused as he made his way to the lifts and punched the button for the first floor.
Shack's assistant was a woman just into adulthood, perhaps five years Harry's senior.
"Harry Potter to see Minister Shacklebolt at his request." Harry offered her the invitation - the summons, really - that Shack had sent.
She was staring at him, unspeaking, and Harry could only think, I hate being famous. After a moment, he shook the parchment a little, and she jumped in surprise before finally taking it.
"I'll see if he's ready for you," she said, and Harry nodded an acknowledgment.
Minutes later, she ushered him into the Minister's office. Kingsley Shacklebolt looked up at him, but didn't bother to rise from behind his desk.
"Sometimes," Shack said conversationally, "I wish you weren't so famous. I've never seen Kate so star-struck before."
Harry snorted. "Sometimes I wish I weren't so famous. I ever tell you what happened my first trip to Diagon Alley?"
Shack frowned thoughtfully. "If you did, I don't recall."
"It was a mob," Harry said flatly. "Mostly polite, but still a mob. Took me ten minutes just to get out of the Leaky."
Shack just looked at him. He blew out a breath.
"I was eleven," Harry said. "Raised by, as Professor McGonagall put it, the worst sort of muggles. I had no clue about the magical world, or how British magicals perceived Harry Potter. Hagrid took me to buy my supplies for first year, and Tom recognized me. Or, he was the first to identify me. After that, everyone in there had to shake my hand or speak to me or both. Ten minutes."
"And you had no idea why," Shack murmured.
"Not a clue," Harry agreed, cheerfully enough, though the cheer was hard won.
"Well." Shack took a moment to settle himself, then looked up at Harry. "I did have a reason for asking you to come today."
"I figured," Harry replied. "Though I have no idea what the reason might be."
"Mostly a head's up," Shack said easily enough. "Letting you know that the Wizengamot voted unanimously to award you the Order of Merlin, first class."
Harry wasn't surprised. He was curious, though. "Not just me, I hope?"
"Not just you," Shack assured him. "Hermione, Ron, and Neville Longbottom are all up for second class - and that's just your yearmates. Minerva McGonagall is up for first class. I'm sure there will be others, but those are the ones currently under consideration."
"That's good to know," Harry said. "But Hermione for sure, and Neville from everything I've heard, should be up for first class. I couldn't have done it without Hermione, and Neville led the charge at Hogwarts."
"What about Ron?" Shack asked, and Harry looked away.
"He left us - me and Hermione. During the hunt for the horcruxes," Harry added by way of explanation. "He abandoned us - I don't know exactly when the Snatchers got him, but they wouldn't have if he hadn't abandoned us. It's - it's selfish, maybe, but I can't forget that he left. And…"
He trailed off, staring at the toes of his shoes.
"And what, Harry?" Shack asked. "You know you can tell me, and it doesn't go any further."
And he could trust Shack - that much, at least, Harry knew. Still, he couldn't meet the older wizard's eyes when he spoke.
"Sometimes, after a nightmare maybe, or just when the memories get to be too much … sometimes, I wonder if he only came back because he didn't want to be remembered as the man who deserted the Boy Who Lived."
Shack was silent so long that Harry was sure he'd offended the minister horribly. Finally, when he just had to know Shack's reaction for sure, however bad it was, Harry looked up.
To his surprise, Shack didn't look angry, or even disappointed. Instead, the minister's expression was full of compassion.
"I understand," he said.
Harry blinked. Again. "You do?"
"I do," Shack said. "I don't know whether you're right about it, but I understand why you feel that way. Doubt doesn't make you a horrible person, you know. It just makes you human."
Harry slumped in his seat. Shack's words - his entire demeanor - had reassured him, relieving him of a burden he hadn't realized he carried.
"So," Shack said, obviously changing the subject. "Based on your own words, I'll put Hermione forward for first class. And I'll ask around about Ron and Neville, see what the consensus is. Fair?"
Harry offered him a tired grin. "It's not my job to worry about fair. I just offered my opinion - part of which you even asked for."
Shack chuckled, and slid a piece of parchment toward him. "You'll be briefed about the award ceremony protocols as it gets closer to time, but in the meantime, I need your signature."
Harry took the parchment and scanned it. "My Gringotts vault information? Why?"
"The Order of Merlin comes with an annual stipend of five hundred galleons," Shack explained.
Harry could only stare at him, horrified.
"What?" Shack asked.
"I didn't do it for money," Harry snapped. "Hell, in a lot of ways I didn't even do it for Britain. I did it because Voldemort kept coming after me and mine, and it was the only way to get him to stop."
"I get it, Harry - I do," Shack assured him. "But that doesn't mean that people don't want to show you their appreciation. Sometimes, that appreciation comes with remuneration."
Harry scowled. "If the people really wanted to show their appreciation, they'd give me back what the Ministry took from me."
Shack frowned, looking confused. "Took from you? What did the Ministry take from you?"
"Eighteen years ago," Harry said. "You - the then-Ministry, I should say - took my parents' house from me."
Shack looked confused, so Harry added, "My parents' cottage in Godric's Hollow. It was mine the moment my parents died - and the Ministry-" he practically snarled the word "-decided it was better served as a monument."
"Oh." Shack blew out a breath, then appeared to consider his next words. "Don't you think your parents should be remembered?"
It was Harry's turn to blow out a long, slow breath. "Of course I do," he said carefully. "But the two aren't mutually exclusive. My parents could've been honored and remembered without taking their - my - property from me."
"Are you - refusing the Order of Merlin, Harry?"
"No," Harry said. "But only because I respect you too much to put you in that position. I'm not bargaining or blackmailing, either. I'm just saying no amount of galleons in the world can replace my home, so keep your stipend. You need it for rebuilding, anyway."
"I - see," Shack said. "That's - very generous, Harry. Thank you."
"Anything else, Shack?" Harry stood. "I figured since I was here, I'd hit the Alley for school supplies."
"No, that's it, Harry." Shack sounded somewhat distracted, so Harry let himself out.
Yule came, and with it a welcome break from studying - even if part of that break had to be spent at the Ministry receiving the Order of Merlin.
Harry got through the ceremony mostly because Hermione and Professor McGonagall would've both lectured him for hours, if not days, if he'd been anything other than polite. Either one of them lecturing him wouldn't have been a problem; both, though, was a circumstance he hoped to avoid forever.
Shack greeted and welcomed the Wizengamot, guests and visitors who had assembled to watch the presentation. Normally, the award was simply presented at the Minister's office with a press release and a few photos.
Today, the ceremony was being held in front of the entire Wizengamot - which, Hermione had said, explained why it had been put off so long. There had to be time for elections and the newly-elected members to be sworn in.
Harry figured it was to milk the anticipation of seeing him in public for the first time since September 1.
The welcoming speech over, Shack introduced each recipient in turn before fastening the ribbon around each one's neck.
Neville accepted his purple-ribboned medal with a gravitas Harry suspected he would never match. Grown-up Neville was nothing like the shy boy Harry shared a boat with all those years ago.
Ron, of course, grinned broadly as he, too, received a purple-ribboned medal, waving to the crowd as they applauded.
Professor McGonagall had foregone her usual emerald robes in favor of mint green ones, against which the green ribbon of her first-class Order stood out in stark relief. She, like Neville, accepted her award with a smile and nod to Kingsley Shacklebolt.
Hermione wore periwinkle-blue robes that reminded Harry of how she'd looked the last time they'd had a formal Yule event - the Yule Ball during the Triwizard Tournament back in fourth year. These were a paler shade, though, to display the purple ribbon to best advantage.
After she'd accepted her award, and while Shack was introducing Harry, Hermione leaned close and whispered, "I wish my parents could see this."
"They can," Harry murmured back. "Not right now, of course, but - later. After we find them and restore their memories."
She turned wide eyes on him. "How?"
"You know Justin Finch-Fletchley came back to school, right? I asked him to bring a regular camera and take pictures."
"Harry," she began, then swallowed and started again, "Harry, that's so - so thoughtful. I don't know what to say."
He grinned at her. "Thank you usually works."
She huffed in surprise, but Shack had come to stand behind Harry to fasten the green ribbon around his neck. A glance down told Harry that the green blended in somewhat with the simple black robes he wore, but the medal itself gleamed in the light.
Harry shook Shack's hand and acknowledged the cheering crowd with a single nod.
Shack returned to his place at the podium and held up his hands for silence. It took a while, but the crowd finally quieted.
"There's one more bit of business to attend to," Shack said, and Harry shot a questioning look at him. Shack ignored it and continued, "It has come to my attention that when the Ministry seized James and Lily Potter's home, no payment to their estates was made."
Harry fought to keep his expression neutral. Shack hadn't only listened to Harry's complaint, he'd investigated it. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised - Shack was a good bloke, after all - but Harry'd had far too few people in authority on his side not to be surprised when one did something positive for him, and even looking into the matter was a positive thing, as far as Harry was concerned.
"While payment is not required by law for such a taking," Shack continued, "it has traditionally been provided. In this case, it was not - just one more in a string of injustices perpetrated against an innocent child. I can only apologize for my predecessors' actions and offer to remedy the situation as best I can. … Yes, Madam Longbottom?"
Harry looked out over the Wizengamot and found Neville's grandmother standing straight and steadfast as she'd always been.
"The tragedies and travesties that befell Harry Potter when he was still in nappies-" she began, only to pause when a ripple of laughter cascaded through the assembly - including Harry. When it subsided, she continued, "-anger me as much as they do anyone. However, it would be remiss not to acknowledge that at this time, the Ministry's coffers are low and that those monies might be more necessary to rebuild after the current conflict than to right a fifteen-year-old wrong."
Harry wasn't surprised she'd brought it up, and he didn't even blame her for doing so. She was correct, after all - the damage left behind after the Battle of Hogwarts in particular and the Second Blood War in general was extreme by anyone's measure. That was, in fact, why he'd refused the stipend that came with the Order of Merlin.
"I understand your concern and agree completely," Shack said, and Harry hid a smirk at Augusta Longbottom's slightly stunned expression. "Which is why I propose that, rather than compensating him financially, we simply return the property itself to Harry Potter."
Harry was grateful that Shack considered it, but couldn't help being disappointed that he'd had to suggest it to Shack first.
Then again, given how hidebound the magical world is, it's a wonder Shack even considered it. Though the rest of the Wizengamot don't seem too pleased by the idea.
Into the silence, Shack continued, "I hereby move that the Wizengamot vote to instruct the Ministry of Magic to return the property commonly known as Potter Cottage in Godric's Hollow to the Potter family."
After a long pause, Augusta Longbottom said, "I second the motion."
"I will entertain debate on the motion," Shack said, and while there was a rustle of murmurs and movement, no one spoke aloud.
Probably don't want to risk looking like greedy, insensitive thieves. Even if that's what they are.
After long minutes of silence, Shack cleared his throat. "The motion on the floor is to instruct the Ministry of Magic to return Potter Cottage to the Potter family. All in favor, light your wands green."
A sea of green lights appeared, and Percy Weasley, the Court Scribe, stood and cast a silent spell. One by one, the green lights went out.
"The ayes are counted, Mr. Minister," Percy reported.
"All against the motion, light your wands red," Shack instructed.
More red lights than Harry had expected appeared. Still, Percy cast his spell and one by one, the red lights went out.
"The nays are counted, Mr. Minister."
"All who wish to abstain, light your wands white."
Harry saw only a few white lights, and those were quickly extinguished as Percy cast his spell a third time.
"The abstentions are counted, Mr. Minister."
"The Court Scribe will present the tally," Shack said, and Harry held his breath.
"Regarding the motion to instruct the Ministry of Magic to return Potter Cottage to the Potter family," Percy began, "the Wizengamot votes as follows. Seven abstentions. Seventeen against. Twenty-six in favor."
"The motion passes," Shack said. "The Ministry will cause Potter Cottage to be returned to the Potter family as quickly as may be practicable, but in no event shall the process take longer than six months."
Applause - more polite than thunderous - echoed through the chamber, and Harry almost stumbled when Hermione latched onto him in a fierce hug.
Harry had never expected Shack to make such a motion, let alone that it would carry, but he had and it had, and Harry let that thought sink in as he returned Hermione's embrace.
Much to Harry's surprise, the Ministry didn't dawdle at getting the cottage deeded back to him. If he didn't know better, he might have thought they simply wanted him to go away and leave them alone.
Whatever their reason, Harry wouldn't complain as, less than a month after the Wizengamot meeting, he was standing in front of the cottage as its rightful owner.
The last - and only - time he'd been to Godric's Hollow, it had been Christmas Eve night. He and Hermione had been in the middle of the Horcrux hunt, cold and hungry, hoping for some hint of a clue, and he hadn't had a chance to explore the remains of the cottage, to see if, perhaps, some personal belongings might have survived the night his parents died and the nearly seventeen years since.
He'd wanted to, but the mission had seemed far more important so he'd let that urge lie. Then, after the war, there'd been rebuilding and…
…and a Ministry he didn't trust - not until Shack was elected, that is; and even now, he wasn't entirely sure he trusted them - not to arrest him for trespassing.
Today, though, was a bright, warm spring day, almost as opposite to Christmas Eve as Harry could hope for, though he hadn't planned it that way - a perfect day to explore his parents' home.
For the moment, though, he simply stood, surveying the damage. The cottage was mostly intact, covered with dark ivy, but the right side of the top floor had been blown apart.
He frowned at the missing corner. That would have to be repaired, plus whatever damage was done to the inside. With any luck, somebody had put protective charms on the cottage, but Harry's luck in the magical world had not always been good.
There was only one way to find out just how bad his luck would be in this moment, but before he could take the few steps that would bring him to the cottage door, a soft pop of apparition sounded nearby.
Wartime reflex conditioning had him jumping away from the sound and leveling his wand at the newcomer, but almost as soon as he had his wand drawn he had recognized his new companion and was returning his wand to its holster.
There was no need for words, not with Hermione. Not after everything they'd been through together. He just held out a hand and she stepped closer to him to take it.
"It looks so different in the light," Hermione murmured.
"How did you know I was here?" Harry asked. "I didn't tell anyone when I was coming."
She slanted him a disbelieving look. "You didn't have to. It was stunningly, blindingly obvious that you'd be here the absolute second you were legally allowed."
"Not to everyone," Harry said. "Or else you wouldn't be the only one here with me."
"That's not it. Not entirely," Hermione amended. "It's more that nobody wanted to intrude. They're waiting for your invitation."
"You didn't," Harry pointed out - and then realized that she never had. She'd always simply been with him when he needed her, even if she'd not always gone about things the right way.
To be fair, of course, neither had he. They'd both been stupidly young and sometimes just stupid - though he knew she'd be horribly insulted if he ever said that last part aloud.
But she was looking away from him, color tinting her cheeks. "Well, I've already been here with you."
"Yes," Harry said, and where had that rasp in his voice come from? "And I wouldn't want anyone else here with me now."
Her gaze flew back to meet his. "Really?"
"Really." Harry turned to face her and took her other hand. "You've been with me for every adventure I've ever had, every fight I've ever had to fight."
"Not every fight."
Harry winced at the anger underlining her words, but still shook his head. "Of course you were. Here."
Without thinking, he raised their joined hands to rest at his heart.
"You've always been here, where it matters the most."
She stilled, staring up at him, her lips parted ever so slightly, and an emotion he couldn't name filling her gaze.
Harry couldn't have said how long they simply stood there, but it seemed like both forever and only a moment before she took a half step closer and stretched up on her toes to press her mouth to his.
Later, Harry would suspect she'd meant only a quick, soft kiss, more of a peck, but he bent his head forward, not wanting the moment to end, and then they were exploring each other's mouths, gently and cautiously, as though the other could break under too much pressure.
At some point, he released her hands so he could slide his around her waist, hers came up to clasp his neck, and he ended the kiss to rest his forehead against hers.
Hermione blew out a shuddery breath. "I've been wanting to do that."
"Why did you wait?" The question came out before Harry was sure he would ask.
She tilted her head back to look at him, her expression serious. "I wasn't sure you wanted to. And-" her lips quirked upward in a slight smile "-I figured if you didn't, this would be the time you'd forgive me."
Harry felt his forehead creasing as he frowned. "Forgive you? For kissing me? Why?"
"Well - Ginny."
"I broke up with her," Harry said. "Before we left to search for the Horcruxes."
"She's-" Hermione looked away, took a breath, and met his gaze again. "She's certain that you only did that to protect her, and that now you'll get back together, get married, all of that."
Harry had started shaking his head before she finished saying get back. Now he said, "That - well. I'd thought that's exactly what would happen. But then … she told me that she knew I wouldn't be happy unless I were hunting Voldemort."
Hermione blinked, and this time her lips parted in shock. "She said what?"
Harry nodded. "And then she said that maybe that's why she liked me so much."
"That's-" Hermione shook her head. "That's - I don't even have words for how wrong that is."
"You know what hurt the worst of what she said then?" Harry asked. "She asked if I was breaking up with her for some stupid, noble reason. I may not be noble-"
"You are," Hermione said fiercely. "Don't ever doubt that, Harry Potter."
Harry just smiled and began again. "I may not be noble, but she equated what I was doing with being stupid. She thought I was stupid - I am stupid. How's that a basis for a healthy relationship? Not that I have that many examples of healthy relationships to judge by," he added with a wry smile.
Hermione chuckled, as he'd hoped she would, but it sounded sad. Then she met his gaze. "I've never thought you were stupid. Lazy, perhaps, and certainly not applying yourself as much as you could, but never stupid."
"I know," Harry said simply. Then he took a breath, let it out slowly. "So - are you willing to help me learn what a healthy relationship can be?"
"Here I stand. I can do no other," Hermione said, then rolled her eyes. "I've no idea why that came to me. It certainly doesn't fit the moment."
"It kind of does," Harry said, though he had no idea where her words might originally have come from. "I was just realizing that you've always been with me, wasn't I?"
"Well, yes," Hermione said with a brilliant smile. "You were."
"What I didn't say, but should have, is that having you with me is better than anything else I can think of."
"Even the Order of Merlin?"
"Even the Order of Merlin."
~|~|~|~|~ END ~|~|~|~|~
The words Harry reports that Ginny said are taken directly from HBP, chapter 30.