This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter universe, which are trademarked by J.K. Rowling. I do not claim ownership of these characters nor the locations such as Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, etc. that are Rowling's creations.

I thank Rowling for the universe she has created that allows me to do something like this for my own entertainment and, hopefully, the entertainment of the readers.

"Good morning, Harry," Ron said as he fell into step beside him, having just entered through the Ministry apparition point.

"Is it?" Harry asked sourly, scowling at the various decorations littering the Ministry Atrium as he made his way to the elevators.

"Okay, maybe not for you," Ron amended, eyeing Harry warily as they walked past a nest of real live bats.

Harry just scowled, glaring as a bat swooped into the elevator after them and hung itself up from the ceiling. They waited patiently as the elevator brought them up to level one, various workers coming and going as they rose higher in the Ministry. Eventually the doors opened at the final stop, prompting the bat to fly out down the corridor.

"So let me ask," Ron said as he walked along side Harry. "Are you going to stay in a mood all day like you did last year, or are you going to perk up again like the year before that?"

Harry shrugged. "Who knows?" he said. "Depends what happens." Harry walked into his office, shrugging off his coat and placing it on the back of his chair as Ron entered his own office.

"But if nothing big happens you'll just stay like this?" Ron asked as he reentered Harry's office, having dumped his cloak and bag into his own.

Harry shrugged, not entirely sure how best to answer that. "Cho!"

"Hey guys, Happy Halloween," Cho said cheerfully as she strode into his office.

"Shut up," Harry replied coldly.

"What?" Cho asked in astonishment. "Why? What did I do? I only wished you a happy Halloween."

"Exactly," Ron said, raising his eyebrows at her. "Harry doesn't like Halloween."

"I hate Halloween," Harry cut in vehemently, sitting behind his desk and glaring at the files lying on top of it.

"How could you forget that?" Ron asked, confused. "Harry's like this every Halloween."

"I was sick last Halloween," Cho pointed out, before quickly continuing before Ron could speak again. "And I hadn't joined the election campaign by Halloween the year before that. Why don't you like Halloween?"

"Bad things happen on Halloween," Harry said darkly.

"That's just superstition," Cho waved away.

"No, it's true," Ron told her. "Bad things happen on Halloween, for Harry at least."

"Yes, and on that topic, where did these chocolates come from?" Harry asked, holding the lid to a box filled with various Halloween themed treats as though it were something nasty he'd just scraped off the sole of his shoe. "I hope this wasn't you."

"It wasn't," Cho denied. "A delivery wizard brought it through for you so I put it in your office. Ron, you've got one too."

"I do?" Ron asked in surprise, turning to look around the wall separating his office from Harry's. "Oh," he said with realisation. "Yeah, I think they might be from my mum."

"Your mum?" Harry repeated.

"Yeah," Ron replied, blushing slightly in embarrassment. "She does this sometimes, although usually only at Christmas." Ron paused as he considered the chocolates. "Actually, it's a really good sign she sent you these. Unless they're poisoned."

Harry grimaced, feeling bad for yet another reason. "Cho, why don't you take these and pass them around the staff," Harry said, placing the lid back on the box and handing them to Cho. "If I'm not going to eat them then at least someone else will."

Cho gave Harry an odd look as she accepted the box, before turning and walking back to the outer workspaces.

"You going to see Ginny today?" Ron asked, suddenly getting more serious as Cho left the room.

Harry shook his head. "It was hard to convince her to stay away, particularly after last year," he said sadly, vividly remembering the hard time he'd gone through. "But it's better for me to deal with this on my own. I don't want her to have to see me like that again."

Ron nodded in acceptance. "I know you aren't going to take me up on my offer," Ron said, taking a step towards Harry. "But, you know, if you do need to talk to anyone, I'll be right next door."

Harry gave a sad smile. "Thanks Ron," he said gratefully. "Hopefully it won't be too bad today, but thank you for the offer anyway."

Ron returned his sad smile with one of his own, falling silent as Cho walked back into the room. "Harry, the Minister wants to see you," she told him as she entered the office.

"Just Harry?" Ron asked, to which Cho nodded. "Mustn't be anything important then," he dismissed off handedly.

"Did they say what the Minister wanted to talk about?" Harry asked Cho, setting his papers back down on the desk as he stood up. Cho shook her head. "Alright, see you later."

Harry strolled out of his office, glowering as he took note of the decorations that littered even the top floor of the Ministry building. Turning the corner, Harry found himself walking alongside Remus.

"Hey Harry, how are you?" Remus asked softly, his voice lacking the usual warmth it held when speaking to him.

"Not happy," Harry replied. "But no worse than could be expected. How are you holding up?"

Remus took a long suffering breath. "I'd say pretty much the same," he sighed. "I was accosted by a Ministry employee dressed as a clown earlier. You'd have thought wizards would be better at making Halloween costumes than muggles are." Harry shrugged. "Are you meeting the Minister?"

"Yeah, you too?" Harry replied. "What do you think he wants to talk about?" Remus shrugged as they entered the outer office, watching as Blaise quickly put away his fake fangs he'd been showing Daphne.

"Sorry," he apologised humbly, stuffing the Halloween accessory into a drawer.

"The Minister is waiting for you," Daphne told them, her voice sympathetic as they passed. Harry and Remus tried to ignore the looks they were getting from the two staff members, but it was difficult when they were so acutely aware of them.

"You wanted to see us?" Harry asked as he led Remus into the Minister's office, which thankfully was completely free of Halloween decorations.

"Yes, please, come on in," the Minister gesture them inside as he stood behind his desk, a report held in his hand. He placed the report down on the desk as he waited patiently for the two men to join him.

"I've got something to tell the two of you," he said seriously. "It's not nice, it's not pleasant. I just want you to hear it from me, rather than the press when they find out." Harry and Remus glanced at each other with worried expressions before turning back to the Minister.

The Minister sighed, leaning forward on his desk to view the report upon it. "At 8:22 this morning quidditch merchandise salesman Clifford Fairchild was arrested by Ministry aurors at the scene of the crime after having murdered dangerous fugitive Bellatrix LeStrange on a Birmingham estate," the Minister read, glancing up at the whitening faces of the two men before him.

"Mr Fairchild is currently in Ministry custody and will soon be tried, the natural sentence to be handed down being life in Azkaban for the use of one of the three Unforgivable Curses," the Minister finished, slowly removing his glasses as he straightened up. "I felt you guys should hear this first."

"Yeah," Harry said faintly, his skin deathly pale as he stared unseeing at the report on the desk. "That's… yeah, thanks," he mumbled incoherently, shifting on the spot as he continued to stare at the parchment.

"Harry," the Minister said softly, bringing Harry's attention to him.

"No, no, this was good," Harry told him, nodding his head shakily. "I should… go, back to my office… I've got work, you know…"

"Harry," the Minister said again, his tone pleading. "Please, stay and talk about this."

"No," Harry shook his head as he jerkily back away. "There's no need. The facts are facts, and it's good that I know them. Thank you." He hovered awkwardly for a moment, standing several meters away from the desk by this point with the door not far behind him. With another glance at the report, Harry turned and left the room, nearly tripping himself up through his own jerky movements.

The Minister sighed sadly as he went, not knowing how to make things any better for the young man. "This is not what he needs right now," he sighed, sitting wearily down behind his desk.

"What he needed was a day without bother," Remus said softly. "That wasn't going to happen in this place."

The Minister sighed again as he recognised the truth of the statement, reaching up to rub at his tired eyes. "How are you taking this?" the Minister asked Remus, looking up in concern at the grey haired man.

"Not good," Remus replied honestly. "But I've come to terms with what happened to my friends a long time ago," he admitted. "For Harry, we're talking about the woman who ruined his life."

The Minister nodded in agreement. "Things aren't going to be particularly happy round here for awhile," he said sagely, his gaze flickering almost against his will to Amos's office door.

"You've told Amos, have you?" Remus said, having caught the subtle glance from the Minister. "How did he take it?"

"Stoically," the Minister replied with a warped smile. "Like he takes everything. He'll keep all this locked up inside him until it eats him alive. It's happened before."

"When Cedric died?" Remus asked. "I heard rumours but I knew better than to simply believe them."

"The rumours were more true than we wished them to be," the Minister said sadly. "And the worst thing is we didn't know about it until it was too late."

"Someone should talk to him," Remus said, although his body language gave a quite clear indication of who that someone should be.

"I will," the Minister promised. "I just wanted to let you two know first." Remus nodded his acceptance of his answer, before he quietly made his way to the door. "Will Harry be okay?" the Minister asked as Remus reached the door, now standing behind his desk.

"Harry will brood in silence," Remus said quietly. "He will get more aggressive to other people, more agitated and more angry until he eventually explodes. Then he'll realise we're all there for him for when he has to pick up the pieces. Trust me, Minister, Harry will be fine."

The Minister nodded his acceptance as Remus left the office, yet the worry he felt did not leave him as he stood alone. Slowly and silently, the Minister walked up to the door of Amos's office, and opened it.

Amos was sitting behind his desk, scribbling away on a report in front of him when the Minister entered, not even looking up as the Minister walked closer.

"Amos," he said quietly as he stood over him, watching his old friend with pain in his eyes. "Amos, perhaps we should talk about this."

"I can't, Minister," Amos replied, his tone almost business like. Yet the Minister could hear the stressed undertone that a passer bye would have missed. "I've got a lot of work to do, especially with Ambassador Diaz travelling to Argentina today."

"This won't take long," the Minister promised, knowing he was lying through his teeth as he did so.

"I'm afraid I can't afford to take the time to get into this with you," Amos said again, his voice becoming more obviously strained as his quill started to scratch harder across the parchment. "As soon as Diaz arrives at the Argentinian Ministry I'll need to be on the phone the whole time to help verify his credentials and confirm his appointment."

"Then you have time now," the Minister pressed on. "Amos…"

"Arthur," Amos snapped, thumping his fists down on the desk as he looked up at him abruptly. "Minister," he corrected himself as he unclenched his fists, wincing as he noticed ink spill onto his report from the quill he'd crushed in his hands.

"Amos, you're hurting," the Minister said urgently. "You need to talk about this."

"I can't," Amos ground out, seemingly trying to control his frustration. "I can't get into this now. If I try to talk about it, about her, about Cedric…" he shook his head as the very name of his son brought him pain. "I'll be useless, and today I can't afford to be useless."

The Minister nodded sadly. "Okay," he said softly, his eyes downcast as he looked at his Chief of Staff. "I'll let it go, for now. But when you have the time, come talk to me."

Amos nodded in response. "I will, Minister," he promised. The Minister looked at him for a moment longer, biting his lip as if to restrain himself from speaking, before he walked back into his office, closing the door firmly behind him.

Hermione hesitated at the door of Harry's office, worried how he'd react to her presence. Eventually she forced herself to take the step over the threshold, knocking timidly on the door as she did so.

"Hey, Hermione," Harry said quietly as he glanced up at her, looking over a mountain of legal documents to see the obviously nervous Press Secretary.

"Hey," she replied softly, walking forward and sinking into the seat opposite him, all the while looking at him with a sorrowful look on her face. "I just got briefed by the Minister," she told him. "I wanted to see if you were okay."

Harry considered her carefully as she waited for his answer. "What did the Minister say?" Harry asked, prompting confusion to fall across Hermione's face. "The Minister didn't go into details with me; what exactly happened?"

Hermione hesitated for a brief moment, before deciding to grant his request. "Clifford Fairchild is a 58 year old caucasian man born in Leeds but recently residing in Darlington for the last twenty two years where he lived with his wife Annabelle, now deceased, and his currently 21 year old daughter, Josephine." Hermione paused as she finished her description, before moving on.

"12 years ago Fairchild's parents were murdered in their own home in Leeds one November night," Hermione continued. "Bellatrix LeStrange was seen leaving the sight after burning down the house. In the early hours of this morning, Fairchild snuck into LeStrange's hideaway in a Birmingham estate and killed her in her sleep with a single killing curse. He then stayed there until morning when he was eventually found by the auror division. His behaviour has been described as calm and peaceful."

Harry contemplated what she said carefully, slowly twirling a quill in his hand as he thought. "He stayed at the scene of the crime?" Harry asked. "How long had he been there?"

"Upon examination of the body it is thought that LeStrange was killed roughly five hours before we found her," Hermione informed him. "We currently don't know the reasoning behind Fairchild's decision to stay. We're still interrogating him as we speak."

Harry nodded. "Seems odd," Harry muttered. "I mean, the first thing you do after committing a crime is try to get away."

"Maybe he was in shock," Hermione suggested.

Harry shook his head. "You said he was calm and peaceful when they took him in," he reminded her. "No, he knew what he was doing when he waited there. He wanted to be caught. But why?"

"Maybe he recognised that he committed a crime," Hermione said. "Reports describe him as a reasonable man in his daily profession. Perhaps he felt he should pay for his crimes just like anyone else."

"Is it really a crime?" Harry asked rhetorically. "We put down rabid animals all the time, why is it different in this case?"

"Because this was a human," Hermione pointed out earnestly. "We have different standards when it comes to human life."

"Can you even call her human?" Harry retorted. "LeStrange has more crimes against her name than anyone in the world. She is a rabid animal, why should we punish someone for putting her down?"

"Because it is still murder," Hermione argued back. "We can't go around being judge, jury and executioner. LeStrange has committed some simply heinous crimes but we should punish that with our laws. Life in Azkaban. The dementors kiss. We have mechanisms for punishing people like her. We can't let people take matters like this into their own hands."

"This isn't any normal case," Harry argued. "This is LeStrange, the world is better off without her and who can seriously argue against that? Should Cliff Fairchild have instead tied LeStrange up and delivered her to the auror office? Yeah. But how can we honestly sentence this man to life in Azkaban just for ridding our world of a being so foul?"

"It's the law," Hermione argued back. "We can't start making exceptions just for this case. It's a slippery road and eventually we're going to let people get away with too much and then all hell will break loose."

"I don't have to make exceptions in the law," Harry countered her, slamming his fist down on one of the texts before him. "Look at what I've found. There are so many ancient outdated laws that there's almost bound to be a way I can get Fairchild off, or at least get his sentence reduced."

"Just because we can doesn't mean we should," Hermione argued back. "In case you've forgotten, we've been trying to repeal so many of these ancient archaic laws because they allow people to get away with things that are simply not right."

"Then why shouldn't we for once use them to our advantage," Harry shouted. "Every time we try to do something these laws hold us back and for the first time ever we can actually use them."

There was a knock on the door. "Harry, Alicia Ward is here to see you," Cho said as she opened the door, watching the two colleagues with wary eyes.

"Harry, who's Alicia Ward?" Hermione asked, her eyes narrowing as Harry deliberately looked away. "Harry, who is she?" Harry's lack of response was all Hermione needed. "Alicia Fairchild," she shouted at him angrily, slamming her hands down on the desk as she stared furiously down at him. "Harry, this is beyond stupid."

"Well, I'm doing it," Harry shouted back, silencing Hermione instantly. "You may think what I'm doing is wrong but think about this. In another world, in another universe, that's me down there in the Ministry holding cell, that's me feeling the satisfaction of finally getting my revenge."

"Harry," Hermione moaned, her expression changing from angry to pleading. "Harry, don't let your emotions rule over your common sense. You know what the right thing to do is."

"Maybe," Harry said stubbornly. "But that doesn't matter to me right now. Cliff Fairchild has got my revenge for me. For my mum, my dad, Sirius, they were all avenged this morning. I'm not going to just let this man rot away if I can help it."

Hermione looked at him sadly. "I can't help if you truly think this is right," Hermione told him sadly. "I know you're hurting but you're going to end up regretting this. Don't do this, Harry."

Harry showed no sign of answering her, instead choosing to stare at her as she left his office, walking past a worried looking Cho in the doorway. "Send her in," Harry ordered. Cho glanced rapidly between Harry and Hermione as she struggled to make her choice. "Send her in," Harry repeated firmly.

Cho did as she was told, albeit reluctantly as she left Harry's sight. Within a few seconds Harry was joined by another woman, whose brown hair was streaked with grey as she walked into the room.

"Alicia Ward?" Harry asked as the woman walked into the room. "Please, take a seat." Alicia took the offered chair with little hesitation, seemingly in need of a seat after waiting on her feet outside his office. "Now, I'm sure you're wondering why I asked you to see me," Harry started.

"You want to talk about my brother," Alicia said immediately, seemingly unperturbed by the circumstances her brother had found himself in. "I've already told the aurors all I know."

"I know, and we thank you for your cooperation," Harry replied smoothly. "The aurors are currently busy speaking with your brother at the moment and they wanted me to talk to you about a matter they felt they hadn't covered in more depth."

"Okay," Alicia responded, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What do you want to know?"

Harry smiled at her politely. "Perhaps if you could describe your brothers behaviour between the day of your parents' murder and today," Harry suggested.

"I've been over this already," Alicia responded angrily. "My brother was not happy at all before all this happened. He took our parents' deaths incredibly hard and in the time since he's been desperate to get the one who did it. I told him to stop and let the aurors handle it but he insisted on going out, nights on end, to try and find that woman."

"You were never interested in joining him?" Harry asked. "Even though you knew this woman had killed your parents."

"No," Alicia answered firmly. "And before this all happened I'd never have imagined Cliff would either. His reaction was a shock, no one expected him to change like this."

"Is it really so much of a shock?" Harry asked. "I mean, his parents were killed by a mad woman who had done this many times before. Some would argue that what he did was the natural response to something like this."

"Then they would be idiots," Alicia said shortly.

"Really," Harry replied, getting angry. "People who want to avenge their relatives' deaths are idiots? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. You coming in here telling me about how your brother was wrong, like he was an idiot, is just disrespectful."

"Why does this matter to you?" Alicia argued back. "This is my brother we are talking about, those were my parents and she was my parents' murderer. Why are you taking this so personally?"

"Because it is personal," Harry bellowed. "Do you think your parents were the first? LeStrange has killed so many people, for nothing more than fun. You may call your brother a fool but this world should rejoice now that she's gone, not send the one responsible into an eternity of torture."

There was silence as Harry finished speaking, standing up and leaning over his desk with a finger jabbed meaningfully onto the wood. Alicia just stared up at him, handbag held in her lap as she regarded him with amazed eyes.

"You're unbelievable," she said, her voice quivering. "If that's all you have to say then I'll be going. Good day to you," she huffed as she rose to her feet and bustled out the door, not for one moment looking back.

Harry stayed stock still as she left, breathing heavily as his mind processed the conversation he'd just had. It was like this that Cho discovered him.

"Harry," she said tentatively, tapping on his door. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes, Cho," Harry said, snapping out of his stupor as he placed his focus on his assistant instead. "What do you need?"

"I just got a call from Amos's office," Cho told him cautiously. "Ambassador Diaz is in hospital after arriving in Argentina."

"He was attacked?" Harry asked in shock, his eyes widening.

Cho shook her head. "The message suggested it was something about the journey that set him off," she informed him. "Amos is going to Argentina right now to see what's going on, he just wanted to keep you up to date."

Harry nodded slowly. "Yes, Amos will be able to deal with that," he said softly. "Thank you, Cho." Cho nodded before she tuned and left, leaving Harry alone in his office with stacks of legal papers lying around him.

Amos staggered as he hit the ground hard, the trans-continental port key depositing him roughly at the arrival station. Immediately he was surrounded by several officials and medical experts, each of them ensuring that he was okay after the long journey.

Amos shrugged them off as politely as he could as he stepped away from the port key centre, instead making his way towards the door, where the Argentinian Head of Magical Transportation was standing waiting for him.

"Welcome Amos, it's good to see you again," the man said in very deliberately pronounced English. Amos nodded to him, his face a mask of worry. "I apologise for the fuss upon your arrival but things have been very tense around here since the accident."

"I understand," Amos said, his tone indicating that he was in no mood for small talk. "Where is Ambassador Diaz?"

"He's in the Ministry infirmary," the man replied. "Considering the circumstances around his injury we thought it best not to move him through magical means."

Amos nodded in understanding. "How is he?" he asked as the man led him out of the arrivals room and into the Ministry proper.

"It's hard to tell," the man responded. "I've been kept somewhat up to date on your behalf but there is a lot of medical stuff that I just don't understand. What I can tell you is that they have finished operating on him and he is stable, but it is unknown how well he will recover."

Amos nodded along as the man spoke, his mind whirling as he strode through the packed Ministry, Spanish words flying around him in an incoherent jumble.

"Here we are," the man said as he reached a big set of double doors with a reception desk sitting next to it. "Amos Diggory para Stewart Diaz," he told the man behind the desk, who nodded after consulting a list in front of him and gestured them through.

"This is where I must leave you," the man said. "I'm not authorised to go any further."

"Thank you," Amos said as the Head of Magical Transportation walked away, soon to be engulfed by the crowd. Amos stepped through the double doors, immediately noticing how empty the room beyond was.

"Oh, Amos," Meredith Diaz jumped out of her seat and threw herself into his arms, sobbing into his neck. "Thank god you're here, I didn't know what to do."

"It's alright," Amos said soothingly, patting her on the back as she started to pull herself together. "It's okay. Now, can you tell me what happened?"

Meredith nodded tearfully, dabbing at her eyes. "It was all so sudden," she said pitifully. "We just arrived here and he collapsed to the ground, screaming in pain. No one knew what to do so they eventually put a silencing charm on him and then rushed him up here."

"Have the doctors talked to you since?" Amos asked.

"They said he was stable," Meredith nodded. "But they also said they don't know how well he'll recover."

"Mrs Diaz," a slightly accented voice said from across the room, gaining their attention. "I've got an update on your husband," he said as he came closer. "if perhaps you want to move to a private room."

Meredith shook her head. "I want Amos to hear as well," she said shakily. "He deserves to know."

"Amos Diggory, British Ministry of Magic Chief of Staff," Amos introduced, bringing recognition to the doctors face.

"Of course, my apologies," the doctor replied. "I'm Dr Dominguez, I'm in charge of Mr Diaz's health whilst he's with us." Amos nodded for him to continue. "Before I go on, can I just ask, has Mr Diaz taken any potions today?"

Meredith nodded. "Yes, he took a Pepper-up potion this morning," she told him. "But nothing else."

Dr Dominguez sighed. "I believe the Pepper-up potion may have been contaminated with another ingredient," he told them. "Flux-weed, to be exact. Normally it is completely harmless when traces of it get into other potions but on this occasion it caused a tiny pocket of fluid to build up near the base of his spine which, due to the pressures of trans-continental travel, ruptured. We've done our best to repair the damage but we'll only know how successful we've been when he wakes up."

"How long should that be?" Amos asked.

"It's hard to be entirely sure how long our potions will keep him knocked out given the other substances running through his system," Dr Dominguez told him. "I would say that five hours would be the absolute maximum length of time he will remain unconscious."

"But what would you suggest is the likely time?" Amos pressed.

Dr Domingues scratched his chin thoughtful. "Anywhere between two to three hours would be most likely," he said. "But as I said, I can't make any promises. Perhaps you would like to wait somewhere more comfortable?"

Meredith shook her head. "I'll be staying here," she said firmly. "When my husband wakes up I want to be there for him."

The doctor nodded. "And you, Mr Diggory?" he asked. "I assume you've got a lot of work to get to?"

"You'll stay, won't you Amos?" Meredith asked hopefully, subconsciously tightening her grip on his arm.

"I've got my phone with me," he said. "I'll be able to keep up with my work from here." Meredith hugged him tightly at that, to which Amos responded with a hug back, nodding respectfully to the doctor over Meredith's shoulder.

"I'll let you know if anything changes," Dr Dominguez promised as he walked away.

"It can't go on," Hermione said frustratedly, pacing back and forth in front of Ron's desk as she ranted. "He can't do this."

"Have you tried to stop him?" Ron asked, starting to get tired of Hermione's ravings.

"Oh yeah, did you not hear us?" Hermione asked scornfully. "I gave him a piece of my mind, I told him how stupid he was being, how much he was risking…"

"And yet he's going through with it anyway," Ron pointed out. "Sometimes you forget how stubborn Harry can be. Remember when he heard that Sirius had been killed? He didn't speak to anyone for over a month. Dumbledore eventually had to intervene because his grades were doing so poorly."

"I remember, Ron," Hermione said miserably, slumping down into the chair across from him. "I just wish it wasn't like this. Why is Harry not able to take it better now that it's been so long ago?"

"You don't mean that," Ron said quietly, catching her gaze. "You're not blaming Harry for this. You know how much he loved Sirius and you know how much it hurt him. If it were you in his situation I doubt you would have handled it as well as Harry has, and I know I wouldn't either."

Hermione grimaced in apology. "I know," she whispered sadly, her head downcast. "I just wish it didn't have to be this way. Why did this have to happen on Halloween?"

"Do you really think it would have been any better on any other day of the year?" Ron asked, eyebrows raised.

"Maybe not," Hermione sighed. "And maybe after this Harry will be better. I'm just worried he's going to do something rash and stupid."

"Like call on the sister of the murderer for questions?" Ron suggested. "I think we're okay, he can't do anything worse, can he?"

Hermione and Ron shared a look, the obvious answer passing between them like a visible train of thought. "Damn," Ron swore. "That's it, I'm phoning Ginny. I don't care what Harry says, she's the only one that can calm him down."

Ron had already reached for the phone and started dialling when Harry walked past his office door.

"Harry," he called after him, jumping from his seat and following him outside. By the time he'd been able to exit his office, however, Harry had made his way out of sight, leaving Ron with no clue to where he'd gone.

Harry walked swiftly and purposeful onward, paying no attention to passing workers as they bustled around with their own lives. Reaching the elevators, Harry pressed the button for level two and waited impatiently for the doors to close, tapping his foot on the ground until finally the grill slid shut.

He walked swiftly through the Auror department, ignoring the funny looks he was getting from members of staff who were surprised to find him on their level. Harry paid them no mind until he reached the door he was searching for.

The waiting room for the Ministry interrogation Centre was nearly empty, only a handful of people sitting on cold stone benches with a single auror manning the reception desk.

"Harry." Harry was stopped halfway across the waiting room by the melodic voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had clearly followed him in as he strode gracefully through the door. "Can I have a word with you?"

Harry allowed Kingsley to take him across to the corner of the room, the two of them keeping their voices low to avoid being overheard. "Don't do this," Kingsley warned him.

"Why not?" Harry asked tiredly. "What harm will it do to see the man?"

"Harry, we both know you're not going to stop at just seeing the man," Kingsley told him, looking him in the eye as Harry tried to avoid his gaze. "You want to find anything that will get him off. Well, I'm going to tell you now that this is an open and shut case."

"Still, I need to talk to him," Harry said belligerently.

"Harry, you have no authority to speak to him," Kingsley told him vehemently. "You are the Communications Director, that doesn't give you the right to get involved in criminal investigations. You could get into a lot of trouble if anyone finds out what you've been doing."

Harry paused at that, catching on to what Kingsley wasn't saying. "You know about that?" Harry asked, making sure not to specify what he was talking about.

"She complained to the auror department about your behaviour," Kingsley informed him. "What were you thinking, claiming to speak with her on behalf of the auror department? I took the heat for you, Harry, but you've got to start thinking straight and realise that you can't go on like this."

Harry shrugged helplessly. "Then what am I supposed to do, Kingsley?" he asked desperately. "I can't just do nothing. I need to talk to him."

Kingsley regarded him thoughtfully for a minute, giving no hint to what he was thinking. "Okay," he said quietly. "You can speak to him. But I'm coming with you."

"You are?" Harry asked carefully. "Is this because you don't want people to think I'm getting free access or that you just don't trust me?"

"Both," Kingsley said seriously, surprising Harry with his honestly. "You're not thinking straight at the moment, and I understand why. I know you are hurting, I feel it too. LeStrange killed many of my colleagues over the years too, I feel bad for punishing her killer like this just like you do. But that's the law, and unless you can realise that for yourself I will be coming in with you."

Harry looked away, studying the blank, featureless wall as he thought about what Kingsley had said. Eventually, he turned back to him. "Okay, you'll come with me," he accepted. "Now can I talk to him?"

Kingsley nodded before walking over to the auror at the reception desk. The auror was clearly against the idea of giving Harry the meeting but dared not go against his boss's direct orders. Instead, he quietly told Kingsley which room to go to, which Kingsley silently led Harry to, opening the door and leading him inside.

The interrogation room was very bare. All the room consisted of was a table and three chairs, one of which was occupied by Clifford Fairchild.

There was nothing particularly noteworthy about Fairchild's appearance. He was slightly short and a bit overweight, although not more than you would expect a man of limited exercise to be. His face was quite round, giving it almost a childish quality, a look that was countered by his greying brown hair.

"Clifford Fairchild?" Harry asked as he approached, drawing the man's attention to him. He nodded. Harry glanced at Kingsley, who nodded, grabbing one of the chairs and dragging it to the back of the room for him to sit on, leaving Harry to take the other seat by the table.

"You are aware of why you are here, aren't you?" Harry asked tentatively, not sure what to expect.

"I know why I've been arrested," Fairchild said calmly. "I don't know why I'm currently talking to you."

Harry thought carefully over what to say next, not having come in to the room with any clear plan. "You killed a woman," Harry said slowly. "Bellatrix LeStrange. You killed her with a single killing curse, and then you waited for the auror office to find you." Fairchild nodded. "Why?"

"She's a murderer," Fairchild responded coldly. "She murdered my parents 12 years ago. I saw her, I heard her laugh and taunt me. The world's a better place now she's gone."

"That… wasn't what I was asking," Harry replied, trying to stop himself from openly agreeing with the man. "I'm asking, why did you wait?"

"After I killed her?" Fairchild asked. "You mean, why didn't I make a run for it?" Harry nodded. "Because I believe in the law. I believe in this country, this government. I believe that had I run I would have been caught by our very strong auror department and I would be properly tried and sentenced to life in Azkaban."

"What if I said there was a way out of Azkaban," Harry suggested, causing Fairchild to glance at him curiously.

"Harry," Kingsley said warningly from the back of the room.

Harry turned to him angrily. "I am licensed to practice law, Kingsley, therefore I am well within my rights to offer legal support to anyone I wish." He turned back to Fairchild. "Judging from what your sister said you went through a personality change after your parents were killed. I think I can get your sentence reduced, perhaps to time in a psychiatric ward until you are declared healthy if we claim you were under the effects of a mental illness."

"Everyone changes when their parents die," Fairchild pointed out. "Especially when it is murder. You seriously believe that would work."

"I do," Harry told him, ignoring the stony silence from Kingsley as he spoke. "I think that it's at least an avenue to explore. After everything LeStrange did we can surely get you some sort of leeway."

Fairchild chuckled slight, causing Harry to stop talking. "What's your name kid?" he asked amusedly.

"Harry," Harry responded.

"Harry," Fairchild accepted. "And am I to assume that you too have lost loved ones to LeStrange?"

Harry nodded. "My parents were killed by her on Halloween when I was just a year old," he admitted quietly. "Then 13 years ago today I got a message from the auror office, while having breakfast in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, that told me that my godfather had been found murdered in his home, along with a message from LeStrange, claiming credit for the attack."

"Halloween isn't a good day for you, is it, Harry?" Fairchild said sadly. "I thought you must have suffered hard to be so adamant in your desire to see me freed."

"But, what you did," Harry said, leaning forward on the table. "Killing LeStrange, you've done this world a favour."

"Yes," Fairchild nodded. "I have, but I still must face the consequences."

"Why?" Harry asked hollowly.

Fairchild chuckled. "Why? Because I committed murder," he laughed. "No matter who it may have been I still committed murder, using an unforgivable on top of all that too. My sentence is life in Azkaban, as said so by the law. There is a reason the law says that."

"But why can't we make an exception?" Harry insisted. "There are ways out of this and why shouldn't we use them to help you?"

"Because we can't go making exceptions for people," Fairchild told him. "You let me off, then what? A serial killer is cursed dead in his own bed? An extremist activist is blown up with a grenade potion? A petty thief is struck down by his victim shop owner? Where do we draw the line?"

Harry had no response for that, instead sitting silently in his seat. Fairchild looked at him with sorrowful eyes. "As much as I want to be able to live my life as a free man, walk my daughter down the aisle, say hello to my first grandchild, that's the sacrifice I have made. I am a criminal and I must be punished for my crimes."

There was silence in the room as he finished talking. "Now, I would like to just ask for one favour, before we finish this discussion," Fairchild said slowly, shifting in his seat. "My sister would rather not have anything more to do with me, but I do love my daughter and if it is possible I would like to get a message to her."

Harry nodded, listening intently as Fairchild passed along his message. As he finished, Fairchild sat back in his seat and folded his arms, a clear indication that the meeting was over. Harry silently got to his feet, his mind running through the message he was tasked with delivering as he turned to the door.

"I just," Harry started saying as he turned back round, looking down at where Fairchild sat. "Before I go, I just want to say one thing." Fairchild nodded, as if to give Harry permission to speak.

"In the courts they're going to say some terrible things to you," Harry told him. "they're going to drag your name through the mud, call you violent, unstable, question every decision you've ever made in your life. I just wanted to say, before all that, thank you."

Fairchild showed no sign of hearing his thanks, no nod of acceptance or word telling him he was welcome. Nothing from the man who would soon be finding himself at the mercy of the foulest creatures alive in an inescapable fortress.

Harry turned away, walking through the door as Kingsley held it open for him. Harry walked silently back to the waiting room, mulling everything over. It was when he reached the waiting room that his train of thought came to a halt.

Harry stared at the woman sitting there, recognising her from when he'd first passed through the room. But now things were different. She hadn't changed but Harry recognised the shape of the jaw, the tone of her hair and the colour of her eyes. And if there was any doubt, the way she was staring right back at him told him she knew he recognised her.

"Josephine Fairchild?" he asked softly, approaching her as she kept her gaze locked with his. She nodded. "Could you perhaps spare me a few moments to speak with you?" he asked courteously, trying to keep his tone light in the presence of strangers. Again she nodded.

"Are there any interrogation rooms free?" Harry asked the auror at the desk. The auror looked very unwilling to answer him but a swift look from Kingsley set him straight.

"Interrogation room C," he answered unwillingly. "Second door on the left."

Harry nodded as he led Josephine down the corridor, noting the irony of the fact he was taking her to the room right next to her father's. Holding the door open for her, Harry waited patiently until she had taken a seat before he too sat down.

"Just to be sure, you are Clifford Fairchild's daughter?" Harry asked, to which Josephine nodded. "Can you confirm to me your date of birth?"

"7th of May, 1987," Josephine said, Harry quickly running the date through his head to check the ages matched.

"Okay," he said, taking a deep breath before speaking. "Not more than five minutes ago I spoke with your father." Josephine nodded. "And he asked me to pass a message to you."

Josephine's breath hitched at that, her eyes widening slightly as she stared at him. "Can I hear the message?" she asked faintly.

Harry looked at her sadly for a moment, before reciting from his memory. "He wants you to know that he's proud of you," Harry told her, watching as she took the news. "He wanted you to know he doesn't care that you won't be joining the family business, that he wants you to do what'll make you happy. He says that he loves you and he's sorry he had to do this."

Josephine was holding her face in her hand as Harry finished, tears flowing down her cheeks despite her attempts to stop them. Harry sat silently across from her, not sure what to say to comfort her, or if she even wanted comforting.

"It'll be alright," Harry tried, but the words sounded false even to his own ears.

"Why, why does this have to happen?" she cried, her free hand banging on the table as she tried everything to regain control of her emotions. "Why is he being punished for this? Why does he have to go to jail for killing that bitch?"

"Because that's the way the law works," Harry said sadly. "It doesn't account for these moral dilemmas, it just allows us to punish those who sin."

"You think my father's sinned?" Josephine yelled, slamming both fists on the table. "You think my father is wrong with what he did? Because if you think-"

"Josephine, stop," Harry said loudly, catching her arms as she went to bang them against the table, her tearstained face looking at him in pure misery. "Your father has done something that our auror department has been trying to do for years," Harry told her, his voice shaking slightly as he spoke. "We understand, Josephine, as does most of the wizarding world. We know what LeStrange is and we know we're better off without her."

"Then why can't you get him out of this?" Josephine sobbed, her words nearly incomprehensible and fresh tears rolled down her face.

"Because he doesn't want out," Harry told her, briefly stopping her quivering sobs. "I tried to get him out of this, I've lost people to LeStrange too, my parents, my godfather. But he doesn't want an exception made because of him. He says he has sinned, and he says he deserves the punishment of the law for his crimes. The least we can do is honour that."

Josephine started to calm down as Harry released her arms, letting them drop softly onto the table as she panted at her exertions. "My dad is a good father," she told Harry. "Don't look at me like that, he is."

"He's a good man," Harry admitted. "But I don't see how he can be a good father."

Josephine shook her head, laughing derisively. "His parents were killed 12 years ago," she told him. "Do you really think my dad took all twelve years to find her?"

Harry sighed as he stood up. "Perhaps not," he admitted as he walked to the door. "But I don't think a good father would ever voluntarily leave their child."

"Yeah," Amos said quietly as he spoke on his phone, having taken a seat in the corner of the room for privacy. "Yeah, you'll have to reschedule that one," he told the person on the other end of the line. "Tomorrow. Coordinate with Luna, I should have an open slot at 10 o'clock."

He fell silent as he saw Meredith re-enter the room. "I'll talk later," Amos said, quickly hanging up the phone as he moved forward to see her. "How is he?"

Amos took confidence in her appearance. While there were dried tear tracks still running down her face she seemed more assured than she had been when they had first been told she could go in and see her husband.

"He's okay," she said quietly, her voice still shaky. "He's still under some numbing potions but he doesn't seem to be in too much pain."

Amos nodded, not feeling particularly reassured. "How well do the doctors think he's going to recover?" he asked, having not had the time to speak with Dr Dominguez since their first meeting.

Meredith needed to stifle a sob as she answered, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "The doctors warned that a lot of the damage looks to be permanent," she admitted thickly, tears threatening to fall from her eyes. "They don't know for sure but it is possible he might end up paralysed from the waist down. He may never walk again."

Amos looked away, trying desperately to control his emotions as he heard the news. "This is my fault," he whispered softly, his voice distraught.

"No, Amos, don't blame yourself," Meredith told him, taking an anxious step closer. "No one could have seen this coming."

"Yes, but it wouldn't have happened had I not convinced him to come here in the first place," Amos argued back, holding a hand to his face as he tried to hold back his anguish. "I should have just left him alone."

Meredith watched him sadly. "Amos, go talk to Stewart," she told him seriously. "It'll make you feel better."

"No, I can't," Amos said, glancing almost fearfully at the door that led to the patient rooms. "I can't face him, not now."

"He wants to see you," Meredith pressed forward, bringing Amos's attention back to her as she stepped further into his personal space. "Please, just talk to him."

Amos nodded, almost against his will as he looked at her earnest expression. Cautiously, he walked over to the door at the far end of the room, walking through it into the corridor beyond. Walking on, Amos stopped at the first door on the right, just as he had been told, and, after a long pause, he opened the door.

"Amos," Stewart called out to him as he saw him standing there. "Come over here," he commanded him, gesturing for him to enter as he strained to see over the side of his hospital bed.

Amos moved closer slowly, letting the door fall shut behind him. "Stewart," he said, his face ashen. "How… how are you feeling?"

"Could be better," Stewart replied, the corner of his lips twitching. "But compared to the pain I was feeling earlier today I'm good." There was a silence between them as Amos stopped short of his bed, unwilling to get too close. "Amos, don't do this."

"What?" Amos responded, his head snapping up. "What am I doing?"

"Blaming yourself," Stewart told him. "I know you're doing it, you are just that type of person."

"Is there any reason I shouldn't blame myself?" Amos asked.

"Sure," Stewart told him. "Come closer."

Amos forced his unwilling legs to take him the couple of steps to lead him to Stewart's bed side, where he stood over his old friend and was finally able to see the full extent of the damage that was done.

"Amos, this wasn't your fault," Stewart told him, ignoring the way Amos' eyes were being drawn to his bandaged midriff. "Some contaminated potion ingredients that just happen to react with trans-continental port key travel. It's ridiculous, no one could see it coming."

"It wouldn't have had to happen," Amos told him stubbornly. "Had I not convinced you to take this job."

"That wasn't the risk I was worried about," Stewart told him. "I could have picked up this injury going on holiday just as easily."

Amos shrugged, not agreeing with him but not willing to have the argument either. Instead he changed the subject. "What are you going to do now?" he asked.

Stewart shrugged. "Let the doctors do their work," he said vaguely. "I suppose that will mostly be physical therapy after they can see the extent of the damage, and they'll obviously have tons of potions to throw down my throat before I leave."

"And after you're feeling better?" Amos asked.

"Well, I've got a job to do," Stewart replied, shrugging as though it were obvious. "I'll no doubt spend a lot of time talking to Harry over the phone and of course dealing with his counterpart here. I'm not sure what else this job will entail other than that."

"You're still willing to take this post?" Amos asked, astonished. "Even after what has happened?"

"Well, yes," Stewart replied. "Nothing's changed Amos, this is just a bit of a delay, that's all." He looked at Amos carefully. "Don't blame yourself," he said, firmly and clearly.

Amos nodded. "Alright," he said, trying to pacify him. "I'm afraid I must leave now." He continued after a short pause

"Of course," Stewart agreed. "There is undoubtedly lots of things you need to get back to. I wouldn't want to hold you up any longer."

Amos turned to the door.

"Oh, and Amos," Stewart called before he could leave. "Thank you, for coming to see me."

Amos nodded, before silently turning and leaving, not trusting himself to speak as emotions boiled beneath the surface of his calm facade.

"You okay, Amos?" Meredith asked as he walked back out into the waiting room. "Were you and Stewart able to talk?"

Amos nodded firmly, clearing his throat. "Yes," he said, trying to slip back into his business persona. "I'm afraid I must go now and return to the Ministry. I'm sorry I couldn't stay longer, but-"

"No, that's alright," Meredith said, cutting across him. "You've done more than enough today. Thank you, for waiting with me."

Again Amos nodded before he walked out the door, leaving Meredith standing alone in the waiting room.

"I remember this one time when you were a year old Sirius thought it would be a good idea to give you a ride around on his back," Remus reminisced, taking a swig of butterbeer. "Your dad wasn't so sure about it but you kept on chanting 'Padfoot, Padfoot, Padfoot', so he gave in. We constructed a harness out of your walker and attached it to Sirius's back after he'd transformed."

"So wait, I actually rode around on his back?" Harry asked incredulously.

Remus chuckled. "Yes, you loved it, it was the fastest you'd ever moved. Then your mum came home."

Harry winced. "I can imagine she wasn't happy with what you'd done," he noted.

Remus laughed. "Not in the slightest," he agreed. "Your father tried to claim he had nothing to do with it. But of course someone had to attach the walker to that mutt and your mum thought I was too sensible to do such a thing."

"So you let dad take the heat?" Harry said, taking a swig from his own bottle of butterbeer. "What happened to Marauder brotherhood?"

"Didn't apply for Lily," Remus told him. "When James told us he was going to marry her we told him that she was his responsibility, we weren't getting in between them on anything. That was a two way agreement, as it happened."

"What did she do to you?" Harry asked interestedly.

"Oh, not me," Remus denied. "She trusted me. It was Sirius that she took it out on."

"What did she do to him?"

"She forbid us from taking the walker off his back," Remus told him. "Sirius couldn't transform back until it had been removed. Instead he had to wander around the house with this walker wobbling around on top of him."

"How long did he stay like that?" Harry asked.

"Two days," Remus replied. "I'm not kidding," he said in answer to Harry's astonished look. "For two days Sirius lived with you as the pet dog, basically, eating out of a bowl, sleeping on the floor. I think James at times forgot he was still Sirius under all that fur."

Harry laughed. "And neither you nor dad decided to help him out?"

"No way," Remus shook his head amusedly. "You never do anything Lily forbids you from." Remus took another sip. "Plus it was very funny."

The two of them laughed at the story, taking drinks from their beers as they settled down for the end of a stressful day. "Oh, and remember that old broom that Sirius was determined to make fly?" Remus said, remembering suddenly. "All I can remember from that summer was Sirius jumping down from that tree with a stick between his legs."

"Sirius was perhaps not the sanest guardian I could have had," Harry noted lightly. "I suppose that's why it was such a good thing you were there to raise me too."

"I don't think you give enough credit to Sirius," Remus admonished lightly. "Sure, he had his eccentricities and perhaps that may have been a problem had I not been there, but he did raise you. Before you were born it was always Sirius's plan to grow old disgracefully. He wanted to spend his life partying with pretty girls and driving really fast sports cars, all the while pissing away the Black family fortune on anything he could find that would have had them rolling in their graves."

"You're right, Sirius was very responsible," Harry intervened cheekily, earning a mock glare from Remus.

"But after your parents died," Remus pressed on meaningfully. "He gave all that up, without even having to be asked. As soon as he learned you needed someone to look after you he gave up that life and became, essentially, a single father."

"Not quite a single father," Harry pointed out quietly. "He had you."

Remus chuckled softly. "Yes, I suppose he did," he responded. "In fact, he sometimes used to joke that we were like an old married couple and I was his wife nagging at him for being a bad influence on you. But without Sirius you wouldn't have had me, the Ministry wouldn't have allowed me to be your guardian."

"It was still that bad back then?" Harry asked sadly.

Remus nodded. "It's only in the last ten years or so that things have changed," he told him. "I think it was my generation who first realised that things were messed up. Things only started to change once my old school mates started to take up higher positions."

Harry nodded in agreement. "So if something had happened to Sirius, who would have taken care of me?" Harry asked. "When Sirius did die I stayed with you until I became of age."

Remus nodded. "That was Dumbledore's doing," he told him. "He applied for you to become a ward of Hogwarts until your seventeenth birthday, knowing that was the only way to allow you to stay with me. He was a good man, Dumbledore."

Harry nodded respectfully. "So, if it weren't for Dumbledore who would I have stayed with?" He asked.

"I don't know for sure," Remus replied. "But all your relatives on your dad's side of the family were dead. I guess you'd have ended up staying with Lily's sister, Petunia."

Harry made a face. "I can't imagine how that would've been," he said wearily. "I imagine she'd probably just have tossed me out on to the street."

"Maybe," Remus responded mildly. "We'll never know, but perhaps if she'd been tasked with raising you, her only nephew, she'd have responded differently." Remus frowned at the look Harry was giving him. "It might have happened," he defended. "After all, don't you talk with her son sometimes, what's his name, Dodly."

"Dudley," Harry corrected. "Yeah, I speak with him sometimes, over stern objections from Petunia, I might add."

Remus shrugged. "I'm just saying, maybe if she'd raised you herself things would be different."

Harry's response was cut off by a knock on the door. Looking up, Harry's attention was brought sharply back to the trials of the day as he saw Josephine Fairchild standing before him, looking slightly nervous but nevertheless better put together than she had been earlier.

"I apologise for interrupting," she said quietly, glancing at Remus who was still completely unaware of her identity. "I was just about to go home and I wanted to have the opportunity to speak with you again before I leave."

Harry nodded slowly, his attention firmly focused on her, causing her to shift uncomfortably.

"I wanted to thank you," she told him. "I'm sorry I yelled at you before but I understand now that you were trying to help. I just… sometimes I get the feeling that the world is against him for what he's done, completely ignoring the circumstances."

Harry shook his head. "That's not true," he told her quietly. "When the world hears who he killed they'll understand. There will be appeals to have him released, petitions this Ministry will receive in a few days with thousands of signatures. In this room there is no one who hasn't lost a loved one to that woman."

Josephine glanced quickly at Remus, who'd picked up what they were talking about and now held a somber expression on his face. "Is there any chance-?"

"No," Harry said firmly, his eyes boring into hers. "I've talked about this all day. There is no chance of a reprieve, and even if there were your father wouldn't take it. He's a man who believes in the law, even at his own expense."

"It seems you understand my father pretty well," Josephine admitted. "Perhaps better than I do." She was silent for a moment as she contemplated that. "Well, thank you, anyway. I appreciate all you've done."

Harry nodded his acceptance as Josephine turned and made her way out of the office, walking through the quiet halls as she passed various secretaries and assistants packing up for the day. So lost in thought was she, that she never noticed a body step out in front of her.

"Ooph," she exhaled sharply as she walked into the man's back, sending the man stumbling a step forward. "Sorry, I wasn't looking."

"That's okay," Ron said calmly as he turned around, the papers in his hand held tightly as he'd made a grab for them to stop them from falling. "I bet somehow it was my fault anyway."

Josephine smiled slightly, the action feeling awkward to her after the day she'd had. She tried her best to hide it but Ron noticed anyway.

"Are you alright?" He asked, raising a hand to her forehead to check her temperature. "No fever," he noted. "You look very pale, do you feel you need to lie down or something?"

Josephine shook her head, blushing slightly as she felt the remnant heat on her forehead from where his hand had touched her. "No, I'm feeling alright," she said quietly. "I just haven't had a particularly good day."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Ron asked, looking at her concernedly. "What's your name?"

"Josephine Fairchild," Josephine replied softly, glancing down at the ground as she registered the surprise on his face. "I suppose you've heard about my father."

Ron nodded. "It's pretty big news around here," he told her, his voice soft. "A lot of people here have suffered because of that woman." He regarded Josephine carefully, noticing the way she continued to look down at the ground in shame. "I'm sorry for your loss."

Josephine looked up at that, her eyes watering slightly as she looked at him. "You're sorry for me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ron nodded. "You're the one who's going to have to live without their father now," Ron told her. "I wish you didn't have to."

Josephine stifled a sob as she looked at him gratefully. "Thank you," she said quietly, trying to keep herself under control, calming down somewhat.

"If you want you could talk to me about it," Ron suggested. "We could go to a cafe or something and order a couple of drinks and I'll listen. It'll help you feel better."

Josephine looked at him, her gaze a strange mix of desire and reluctance. "I don't think I can," she said softly. "Not now, not so soon after this has all happened."

Ron nodded his understanding. "Well, if you ever change your mind just ask for Ron Weasley's office," he told her. "That's where I'll be."

She nodded her thanks, staring at him for a moment as her brain seemed to slow down. She went to walk past him, before stopping and instead turning to him, giving a gentle kiss on his surprised lips. She stood for a second longer, her face mere inches from his, before she walked away, her head down as she kept her gaze rooted to the floor.

Still standing in the corridor, completely stunned, Ron watched as she walked away and out of sight. Turning back he looked at Dennis, who'd been quietly filing away paperwork next to him, and sighed happily.

"She kissed me," he said breathlessly, his voice high with excitement. "Can you believe it?"

Dennis looked at him in concern, wondering whether Ron would ever return to helping him work. "I really can't," he replied honestly, but Ron wasn't listening. Instead he was staring back down the corridor, his eyes unfocused as a smile spread across his face.

"That was good of you, Harry," Remus said to him once he was sure Josephine was gone. "She really appreciated that, I think."

Harry nodded slightly as he took another swig from his drink. "It's only fair," he said. "Her world's never going to be the same again. If anyone knows what it's like to live without your parents it's me."

"It's also good that you are back to normal again," Remus added. "You've come very close to breaking quite a few laws today, Harry. You owe Kingsley a lot for covering for you."

Harry nodded. "I know, and I'm really grateful for Kingsley for that," he said. "I just needed to get some closure and hearing Fairchild tell me that he should go to Azkaban really helped set me straight."

"That's good," Remus said. "I think a lot of people will be glad to finally have this moment. I know I will sleep better knowing my friends have been avenged." He popped open a new bottle of Butterbeer. "To James, Sirius and Lily," he said, raising the bottle to Harry, who raised his own back, each of them taking deep drinks as they honoured the memory of their past loved ones.

Elsewhere in the Ministry Amos walked through the corridors, feeling as old as he looked as the weight of the day's events bore down on him. Moving through the Ministry, Amos reached his office and started to tap at the door with his wand to unlock it.

"Are you okay, Mr Diggory?" Luna asked as she looked at him, her wide protuberant eyes taking in every inch of his pale face.

"I'm fine, Luna," Amos replied, using his considerable experience to mask the pain. "It's just these damn trans-continental port keys, they make me feel absolutely sick every time I use them." His gaze wandered to the bag sitting on her desk. "You just leaving?"

Luna nodded. "I could stay a bit longer if you need anything," she told him, her hand ready to start pulling things back out of her bag.

Amos shook his head. "No, that won't be necessary," he told her. "Go, I just have to finish off a couple of things in my office." He walked inside, closing the door behind him as he moved to sink back into his desk chair, feeling all his years weighing down on him like some sort of physical force. Eyes skimming over the various papers still sitting on his desk from the morning, Amos's hand wandered down to his bottom drawer, which he carefully pulled open and picked out a photograph from inside.

"That's me off," Luna told him as she opened the door.

Amos jumped slightly at her appearance, before regaining control. "Alright Luna," he said, smiling slightly. "I'll see you tomorrow. Good night."

Luna left without another word, closing the door behind her and leaving Amos alone in his office, the first time he'd been there since hearing the news of Stewart Diaz. Turning his attention back to the photo in his hand, Amos sighed sadly at the figure displayed before him.

Cedric Diggory stood tall and proud next to his father, who was now several inches shorter than the strapping seventeen year old. Behind them Amos could spot the colours of thousands of tents, all pitched up so that their owners could take in the final of the Quidditch World Cup, Ireland versus Bulgaria.

Unbidden, a tear rolled from the corner of his eye as he watched the photo Cedric smile and wave up at him, standing looking as though he didn't have a care in the world. How cruel it was that by the time summer rolled by again he was no longer there to see it.

Amos remembered the day well, the day he'd turned up to see his son compete in the Tri-wizard tournament against the contestants of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. They'd entered the great maze with cheers of support from the crowd, but only two would return. It was the worst moment in Amos's life when he saw Fleur Delacour lead Viktor Krum out of the maze, Cedric's body carried over his broad shoulders. They told them that Bellatrix LeStrange had been in the maze, that it was she that had committed the crime, but she was long gone by the time a search could be conducted.

Amos dropped the photo onto the desk, his hands shaking violently as he did so. He pushed himself roughly from his seat, jerkily stomping over to his decanter of Fire-whiskey, which he uncorked and started to pour into a glass, the alcoholic substance spilling as his hands shook.

Taking the glass, Amos gulped down the drink in one, praying it would cease the shaking of his fingers. Feeling his body numb as the fire-whiskey flooded through him, Amos glanced, almost afraid, to the photo sitting on his desk. He wanted to stop himself, needed to stop himself, but at the sight of his son's smiling face he couldn't bare it.

Refilling his glass, his hands starting to shake as the first drink wore off, Amos made one final attempt to stop himself, setting the decanter down firmly on the table he had taken it from. Staring down at the half filled glass in front of him, Amos begged with himself to be strong, to control his desire. One look at the picture on his desk and Amos surrendered, picking up his glass and throwing back the drink, the alcohol burning his throat along with the burn of regret and despair.