Chapter 6 - Fifth Year
"Well Mr. Potter, aren't we forgetting your fifth year?"
Well, no Mandy I don't ever forget it. Not in the last eight years certainly.
I can never forget it. No matter how much I try.
We just returned from a trip to an island in the Mediterranean. Lovely place really. Spent a whole month there actually. The kids are overjoyed to be going home, to see the Gran and Gramp Weasley. So am I to be honest.
I miss talking with Arthur now and then. He's a busy man, the Minister of Magic always is, but in Arthur's case he's never too busy for a grandchild, or child who needs to talk.
When we got back I saw this parchment sitting on my desk with the three lines and chapter heading on it. I had sat at my desk for days on end and Ginny finally said we were going.
I briefly considered getting a Quick Quotes Quill for this chapter, but then thought better of it. I mean who'd want to read: "An ugly scar, souvenir of a tragic past, disfigures the otherwise charming face of Harry Potter, whose eyes burn with the tragic memory of his godfather's death that he could have prevented."
Hermione once told me that I needed to stop trying to be the hero everyone paints me as. That I need to just be Harry now and then. Sadly, that is 'just Harry'. There isn't anything else. I'm not a deep person really; I just want a simple life.
A reporter for the Prophet cornered Ginny in the Leaky Cauldron one day and tried to get an interview out of her. We had been married for just a little over a year, and Megan was yet to be born. Ginny had taken to wearing baggy robes in public to hide her condition as much as possible, as we didn't want anyone with a grudge getting any ideas. I'm sure that once everything calmed down, and they removed the quill and parchment from, ah, where Ginny sent it to, that his screams of lawsuit weren't really true. The Aurors explained firmly but quietly that the daughter of the Minister of Magic could pretty much get away with it as self-defense let alone the Minister of Magic's daughter who also happens to be Harry Potter's wife.
The story never made it to the papers. Arthur does, however have in his possession the draft of an article on Daily Prophet letterhead, and has used it on a number of occasions to garner a grudging acceptance out of Ginny on particularly tough issues. Now I know where Fred and George got THAT particular side of themselves.
Don't be fooled, Arthur Weasley is a tough nut. He just uses the innocent grand-fatherly type disguise very well.
The attack on Arthur had really left me feeling at odds with everyone. Particularly Dumbledore, the year before if I so much as had a twinge of pain, I was swept up to the Headmaster's office for a late-night discussion.
It's not humorous that Arthur was attacked; however, it was that Arthur had decided to accept 'radical muggle treatment'. I thought Molly was going to burst at the seams when she found out Arthur had accepted stitches. Ron and I rib Arthur about it to this day, never in earshot of Molly though or we get a real earful.
Hermione brought something home from work last night, which quite frankly is unusual, being as what she does, whatever that is. You see the best and the brightest all wind up in the same place eventually; The Department of Mysteries. Hermione Weasley - Unspeakable, it had a ring to it. Anyway so Hermione brings this, thing for lack of a better word, home and has been prodding it all night. I should explain perhaps. Due to the sensitive nature of, well, of whatever the hell it is that Hermione and Ginny do, we share a house. It's a nice place really. Three floors, more bedrooms that you can imagine, and a kitchen that rivals Hogwarts.
Much to the dismay of S.P.E.W.'s founder we do have elves, a number of them actually. Hermione insisted on giving them all clothes and paying them. I've seen the stack of coins in the basement where they keep it piled up. I've no idea what they are planning to do with it all, but there are eight elves, and they get paid a Galleon a month. The whole process would have been comical, but Hermione was finally beaten down to one Galleon a month and a day off every other month. I am sure none of them actually take the day off, but I could be wrong.
Ron and I are Aurors. They claim some of the best that they have seen in a long time. Of course we are, we had seven years of battling the forces of darkness even before we were, ah, asked to join.
So here we are seventeen years old, just graduated from Hogwarts and four burly gentlemen with dark blue robes and silver trim walk up. "Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley?" It really wasn't a question; it was more of a command.
I believe I was quite eloquent when I said quite clearly "Huh?"
We were dragged, um escorted bodily into a small room and a parchment was thrust in front of us. They placed a quill in our hands, pre-inked and the biggest burly guy said "Sign."
With fear quaking through my insides I became far more eloquent "What?"
Ron, however, had managed to regain his wits far faster than I, and in his normal dulcet tones eloquently said. "Who in the bloody fuck do you think you are?" He snapped his quill, and glared at Mr. Burly.
The man blinked in obvious surprise. "I am Auror Roberts, I understood you two wished to be part of the Auror program."
"So you thought you'd play the tough with us? Merlin man, do you have any CLUE who we are? Do you have any idea who THIS is?" He said this last gesticulating wildly at me. "You people are fucking insane." He stood up and shoved me towards the door.
Roberts could not have looked at Ron any stranger if he had sprouted breasts, stripped naked and sung 'God Save The Queen'. "I - that is, er - Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter please." He held out his hands in what was obviously a futile gesture at making peace. "Let's not get hasty."
Ron stopped pushing. "Go on." I heard him say, but his hand remained on my shoulder.
"Well, we have here the contracts for your five year term, this includes one year of physical combat training, one year of law, and a year of advanced magic the balance of the term to be served in the MLE as a field agent."
Ron took his hand off my shoulder and they turned to the desks, looking at the parchment contracts. He read them over, and then looked over the contract they had given to me. Ron's face fell. "Unacceptable." He ripped them and pushed me to the door.
The Auror looked at Ron shrewdly again. "Six years. Same department."
Ron stopped pushing me again. "Five years. Partners."
"Seven years. Same department, same shift."
"Five years. Partners, nor no deal."
The Auror sighed. "Six years. Partners, night shift."
Ron paused. "Six years, partners, nightshift for six months, normal shift for the term."
The door opened and a woman entered who could only really be referred to as regal walked in wearing the robes I was associating with the Aurors. "You four are excused."
Roberts and his clone muscle all walked out of the room without a word. She waved her wand and a soft chair materialized with a small desk in front of it. She reached into the drawer and pulled out two contracts, and looked them over momentarily, and then pushed them towards us. "Ten years, partners, day shift entire term. Weekend visitation privileges for your family."
I looked at my contract noting that mine had the Weasley's named as my family. I looked at her questioningly. "We understand your ah, special circumstances Mr. Potter."
I looked at Ron who shrugged back at me. "I ah, need a new quill." Ron said sheepishly.
"Of course Mr. Weasley." She handed him her quill.
We signed. She smiled at us broadly. "Welcome to the Aurors. I'm Amelia Bones, head of the MLE. Do either of you have any questions?"
Honestly I had a list forming just short of a thousand, but for the life of me, not a single one came to mind. Instead of any question I found myself shaking my head and muttering "No ma'am."
So it was that we became Aurors. But that would actually be in our seventh year, and not in our fifth.
Well, I might as well get on with it. But first I'll finish the story of the thing Hermione brought home. At first Ron thought it was one of those brain-things that attacked him in the Department of Mysteries. No such luck, this thing was far worse.
The ones we saw in the DoM were tame. This thing was wild. It took Ron an hour to enter the same room she was in, and that's only because she was using the kitchen and he was hungry.
Well, it turns out that they found it on a raid, and if they tried to keep it with the tame ones, it tended to aggravate them, and there would be brain-things leaping at one another. God only knows WHY they keep those damned things, but that's a DoM thing, and has nothing to do with us MLE types.
Ginny, also works in DoM, we *think* she works with Hermione. We don't know. We don't WANT to know.
Well, so anyway this brain thing in the middle of the night decides it's going to die on us, and at four in the morning we hear a shriek that could only be described as girlish.
Mind you this is Ron, who stood up to the Dark Lord Voldemort, and captures Dark Wizards as a living right? Right. So Ron is actually STANDING on a chair in the kitchen with this dead brain thing on the ground at his feet. He apparently trod on part of it looking for a glass.
To this day he claims he never shrieked, nor did he climb onto a chair and wet himself. However, I do have this photo Ron has never seen, and for the right price no one else will ever see it.
I learned quite a bit from the twins.
The twins, had it not been for Fred and George, I'd have gone completely mental. They really kept our spirits up even in the face of Umbridge and the rest of the Ministry of Magic's interference.
Now, let's go into a short discussion about Albus Dumbledore. If Albus were still alive, he'd be like a grandfather to me. Always wiser, and very paternal, but with just a touch of mischief.
Sadly, he's not. Albus passed away the year Ron and I were 'on the streets' as they say. His funeral took a week to finish. Viewing times for the body were held over five days alone. The body is buried in an undisclosed location, it's heavily warded, and checked up on frequently by me personally.
Paraniod? Perhaps I am. But Alistair Moody died in his sleep at the age of one hundred fifty three, and it was because he was paranoid. Personally I'll take a little ridicule to ensure I spend as much time in this world as I am allotted.
Odd, I didn't used to feel that way. I just hoped to make it to the end of term. After we destroyed Riddle, I always felt like I was living on borrowed time. That was until Ginnys and my wedding.
If you ever read about some couple that are famous and they run off and find a quiet place to get married, don't tut at them. Smile and be happy for them. Once word got out about the wedding we had people I didn't even KNOW wanting to come. It was, after all to be the social event of the season.
I'm surprised the queen wasn't coming, though Ministers from five other countries were. It was a nightmare. What started out as a quiet ceremony in Ottery St. Catchpole turned into a multi-day affair. Oh yes. Multi-day. As in several. As in damn near a week.
The first day was a rather elegant wedding. Everything Ginny deserved to feel like a princess on her wedding day. The ceremony itself took two full hours. Then enough pictures were taken to ensure every living person in the world muggle and wizard alike had a personal copy. Then we retired to our hotels until the dinner.
The dinner was a catered affair, taking place in a lovely field. I have no idea where the field is, nor do I care to. I apparently have allergies to pollen or some such. I found this out along with four hundred guests when the wind changed direction, and I didn't stop sneezing until Molly gave me a potion to take. The rest went ok I guess, but it was far too much food, and I didn't really care for the company.
The third night was a formal ball, and for the third night in a row, we dressed in our wedding clothes, cleaned and pressed by our elves. The ball was another highly social affair, a 'light buffet' with enough food to feed a small nation and the dance went on until midnight.
That night, we slipped away with little more than hooded black robes and a large bag of gold. In the dead of night Mr. and Mrs. James Evans took a long distance Portkey to Egypt. From there they appeared in Australia where we stayed for a month. That night a lone owl winged its way north to England with a note from us telling Molly and Arthur we were fine, but in hiding in a hotel in muggle Australia. We'd be in contact with them again in three weeks.
We still wound up changing hotels four times in three weeks as the press would find us, and we'd be forced to move to avoid them for another few days. We took a vacation from our vacation a month later; the Potter's slipped from view.
It was while we were away on our honeymoon that I realized something. I EARNED my time here. I was OWED a long, happy life, and dammit, I was getting what was owed to me.
So, Albus Dumbledore then. Mentor? Definitely. Friend? When it suited his purposes. Confidante? In some matters, yes and in others no. The man was very complex, even I who spent more time with him than anyone else never even scratched the surface.
In many ways he had had a worse life than me. He had lived through the hell that was wartime England, and had bested the reigning Dark Lord of the time. We were actually more alike than not honestly.
So it hurt, more than I care to admit most of the time, and it took several years after Albus died to say it aloud, that I had come to regard Albus as the grandfather I knew I had had at one time. Sirius had told me once in Grimmauld Place that he spent time at my grandfather's place after he had run away from home. So I knew they were alive while my parents had been in Hogwarts.
I had also guessed that Potter had been one of the old lines of 'pure blood' magic. Didn't make us any better than anyone else. Just meant we could trace our history back into the past and most of us had wands, and graduated from the same school. One day I'll become more interested in genealogy and I'll trace back my family. Right now though all the family I care about is right here.
Well let's see we've discussed everything I can think of to skirt the issue of the Ministry Incident.
"Well Mr. Potter as you see here we have a special treat then. This area has been set aside to show some of the highlights from the first of a series of skirmishes with You-Know-Who, that eventually lead to his downfall."
It is going to be exceptionally rough to write this section. I really don't want to after all. It's finalizing what happened that night in a way I don't want it finalized. Because by writing it down I am making it permanent, and that's the last thing I wanted to do.
The story goes we took the Thestrals to the Ministry of Magic. This is true. As is the inane badges we received from the booth.
You have to understand that I had never intended on endangering anyone else, let alone my friends, but they are too pig-headed to stay where they are told to. I suppose though, if you are going to be friends the Harry Potter, the qualifications should include 'stubborn git'. Merlin knows they all fit that description.
My first (and last) trip to the Department of Mysteries would have been thrilling if it hadn't been for the fact I was being chased by Death Eaters and trying to rescue Sirius, whom I was sure was being tortured to death.
Which brings me back to the link between me and Riddle. Now that he had learned he could use the link to feed me information and press his emotions on me, it became wise to shut that door off.
Dumbledore tried to explain to me in those last few days of term why he had chosen Severous Snape to teach me Occlumancy, but I wasn't in a mood to listen right then. No, I was far more in a mood to break things.
It makes sense now actually, Snape was the only one who actually used occlumancy to trick Riddle, so it really only makes sense that he teach me to block it. Of course that doesn't change that he actually made it easier for Riddle to get to me. Nor does it change that he made the experience far worse than it had to be.
Armed with, well, nothing really but a driven need to save Sirius, off we fled wands out and spells flying to save someone who was sitting in an armchair in front of a warm fire talking with Remus Lupin about the summer holiday, and if I would be staying there. In his pocket was a small mirror. The twin to the mirror he had given me and I oh so thoughtfully stashed in the bottom of my trunk without ever opening.
Did you forget about the mirror? I did. Great kid like I was, thought of EVERYTHING. Why I executed a near flawless plan, we, except the part about us not getting caught, and the part when I trusted that malevolent house-elf, and the part where I didn't LISTEN to the brightest witch in a century when she told me to try another means to contact Sirius.
Ah yes, for my stunning display of leadership I got my godfather killed. But wait, there's more. I discovered a prophecy that said that it was Tom or me. That's right, to add to all the wonderful things it is to be Harry Potter, I got to include a kill or be killed prophecy on top of that. Yay, what fun.
On the other hand I actually got to see Dumbledore fight. It really was something, if it had been any other duel I would have said it was brilliant. He had a certain flare that one cannot deny. His methods and mastery of magic are without a doubt the most intriguing thing.
I tend to focus on beating down the opponent, and using brute-force barriers to protect myself in duels. Albus used every trick I have ever seen, and I think he made some up on the spot. Sadly I never really talked to him about this, there really wasn't much time before the final battle between me and Riddle, and in the year after, Albus was suffering from the after affects of the curses until he passed away eight months later.
I believe I am the only one who has gotten away with the kind of damage done to a Headmaster's office that I did the night Albus told me about the prophecy. I must have wrecked a thousand galleons with of instruments and furniture. The first thing I did when I saw him that next year was to apologize and promise to replace the items.
Albus laughed and informed me that he kept nothing of any significant value at Hogwarts. I have come to find out that Albus valued very little really. People, knowledge, books these are valuable, but not items, not material wealth.
When you come right down to it, Tom and I are a lot alike. We both have black hair. We are both orphans, and had rough childhoods. We use similar wands, and are really not that un-alike personality wise. Ginny told me it was one of the reasons it was so easy for him to work on her, he acted so much like me.
I have a scar he gave me, and I killed him. That pretty much covered it.
Now, let's continue onward.
"Well Mr. Potter, aren't we forgetting your fifth year?"
Well, no Mandy I don't ever forget it. Not in the last eight years certainly.
I can never forget it. No matter how much I try.
We just returned from a trip to an island in the Mediterranean. Lovely place really. Spent a whole month there actually. The kids are overjoyed to be going home, to see the Gran and Gramp Weasley. So am I to be honest.
I miss talking with Arthur now and then. He's a busy man, the Minister of Magic always is, but in Arthur's case he's never too busy for a grandchild, or child who needs to talk.
When we got back I saw this parchment sitting on my desk with the three lines and chapter heading on it. I had sat at my desk for days on end and Ginny finally said we were going.
I briefly considered getting a Quick Quotes Quill for this chapter, but then thought better of it. I mean who'd want to read: "An ugly scar, souvenir of a tragic past, disfigures the otherwise charming face of Harry Potter, whose eyes burn with the tragic memory of his godfather's death that he could have prevented."
Hermione once told me that I needed to stop trying to be the hero everyone paints me as. That I need to just be Harry now and then. Sadly, that is 'just Harry'. There isn't anything else. I'm not a deep person really; I just want a simple life.
A reporter for the Prophet cornered Ginny in the Leaky Cauldron one day and tried to get an interview out of her. We had been married for just a little over a year, and Megan was yet to be born. Ginny had taken to wearing baggy robes in public to hide her condition as much as possible, as we didn't want anyone with a grudge getting any ideas. I'm sure that once everything calmed down, and they removed the quill and parchment from, ah, where Ginny sent it to, that his screams of lawsuit weren't really true. The Aurors explained firmly but quietly that the daughter of the Minister of Magic could pretty much get away with it as self-defense let alone the Minister of Magic's daughter who also happens to be Harry Potter's wife.
The story never made it to the papers. Arthur does, however have in his possession the draft of an article on Daily Prophet letterhead, and has used it on a number of occasions to garner a grudging acceptance out of Ginny on particularly tough issues. Now I know where Fred and George got THAT particular side of themselves.
Don't be fooled, Arthur Weasley is a tough nut. He just uses the innocent grand-fatherly type disguise very well.
The attack on Arthur had really left me feeling at odds with everyone. Particularly Dumbledore, the year before if I so much as had a twinge of pain, I was swept up to the Headmaster's office for a late-night discussion.
It's not humorous that Arthur was attacked; however, it was that Arthur had decided to accept 'radical muggle treatment'. I thought Molly was going to burst at the seams when she found out Arthur had accepted stitches. Ron and I rib Arthur about it to this day, never in earshot of Molly though or we get a real earful.
Hermione brought something home from work last night, which quite frankly is unusual, being as what she does, whatever that is. You see the best and the brightest all wind up in the same place eventually; The Department of Mysteries. Hermione Weasley - Unspeakable, it had a ring to it. Anyway so Hermione brings this, thing for lack of a better word, home and has been prodding it all night. I should explain perhaps. Due to the sensitive nature of, well, of whatever the hell it is that Hermione and Ginny do, we share a house. It's a nice place really. Three floors, more bedrooms that you can imagine, and a kitchen that rivals Hogwarts.
Much to the dismay of S.P.E.W.'s founder we do have elves, a number of them actually. Hermione insisted on giving them all clothes and paying them. I've seen the stack of coins in the basement where they keep it piled up. I've no idea what they are planning to do with it all, but there are eight elves, and they get paid a Galleon a month. The whole process would have been comical, but Hermione was finally beaten down to one Galleon a month and a day off every other month. I am sure none of them actually take the day off, but I could be wrong.
Ron and I are Aurors. They claim some of the best that they have seen in a long time. Of course we are, we had seven years of battling the forces of darkness even before we were, ah, asked to join.
So here we are seventeen years old, just graduated from Hogwarts and four burly gentlemen with dark blue robes and silver trim walk up. "Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley?" It really wasn't a question; it was more of a command.
I believe I was quite eloquent when I said quite clearly "Huh?"
We were dragged, um escorted bodily into a small room and a parchment was thrust in front of us. They placed a quill in our hands, pre-inked and the biggest burly guy said "Sign."
With fear quaking through my insides I became far more eloquent "What?"
Ron, however, had managed to regain his wits far faster than I, and in his normal dulcet tones eloquently said. "Who in the bloody fuck do you think you are?" He snapped his quill, and glared at Mr. Burly.
The man blinked in obvious surprise. "I am Auror Roberts, I understood you two wished to be part of the Auror program."
"So you thought you'd play the tough with us? Merlin man, do you have any CLUE who we are? Do you have any idea who THIS is?" He said this last gesticulating wildly at me. "You people are fucking insane." He stood up and shoved me towards the door.
Roberts could not have looked at Ron any stranger if he had sprouted breasts, stripped naked and sung 'God Save The Queen'. "I - that is, er - Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter please." He held out his hands in what was obviously a futile gesture at making peace. "Let's not get hasty."
Ron stopped pushing. "Go on." I heard him say, but his hand remained on my shoulder.
"Well, we have here the contracts for your five year term, this includes one year of physical combat training, one year of law, and a year of advanced magic the balance of the term to be served in the MLE as a field agent."
Ron took his hand off my shoulder and they turned to the desks, looking at the parchment contracts. He read them over, and then looked over the contract they had given to me. Ron's face fell. "Unacceptable." He ripped them and pushed me to the door.
The Auror looked at Ron shrewdly again. "Six years. Same department."
Ron stopped pushing me again. "Five years. Partners."
"Seven years. Same department, same shift."
"Five years. Partners, nor no deal."
The Auror sighed. "Six years. Partners, night shift."
Ron paused. "Six years, partners, nightshift for six months, normal shift for the term."
The door opened and a woman entered who could only really be referred to as regal walked in wearing the robes I was associating with the Aurors. "You four are excused."
Roberts and his clone muscle all walked out of the room without a word. She waved her wand and a soft chair materialized with a small desk in front of it. She reached into the drawer and pulled out two contracts, and looked them over momentarily, and then pushed them towards us. "Ten years, partners, day shift entire term. Weekend visitation privileges for your family."
I looked at my contract noting that mine had the Weasley's named as my family. I looked at her questioningly. "We understand your ah, special circumstances Mr. Potter."
I looked at Ron who shrugged back at me. "I ah, need a new quill." Ron said sheepishly.
"Of course Mr. Weasley." She handed him her quill.
We signed. She smiled at us broadly. "Welcome to the Aurors. I'm Amelia Bones, head of the MLE. Do either of you have any questions?"
Honestly I had a list forming just short of a thousand, but for the life of me, not a single one came to mind. Instead of any question I found myself shaking my head and muttering "No ma'am."
So it was that we became Aurors. But that would actually be in our seventh year, and not in our fifth.
Well, I might as well get on with it. But first I'll finish the story of the thing Hermione brought home. At first Ron thought it was one of those brain-things that attacked him in the Department of Mysteries. No such luck, this thing was far worse.
The ones we saw in the DoM were tame. This thing was wild. It took Ron an hour to enter the same room she was in, and that's only because she was using the kitchen and he was hungry.
Well, it turns out that they found it on a raid, and if they tried to keep it with the tame ones, it tended to aggravate them, and there would be brain-things leaping at one another. God only knows WHY they keep those damned things, but that's a DoM thing, and has nothing to do with us MLE types.
Ginny, also works in DoM, we *think* she works with Hermione. We don't know. We don't WANT to know.
Well, so anyway this brain thing in the middle of the night decides it's going to die on us, and at four in the morning we hear a shriek that could only be described as girlish.
Mind you this is Ron, who stood up to the Dark Lord Voldemort, and captures Dark Wizards as a living right? Right. So Ron is actually STANDING on a chair in the kitchen with this dead brain thing on the ground at his feet. He apparently trod on part of it looking for a glass.
To this day he claims he never shrieked, nor did he climb onto a chair and wet himself. However, I do have this photo Ron has never seen, and for the right price no one else will ever see it.
I learned quite a bit from the twins.
The twins, had it not been for Fred and George, I'd have gone completely mental. They really kept our spirits up even in the face of Umbridge and the rest of the Ministry of Magic's interference.
Now, let's go into a short discussion about Albus Dumbledore. If Albus were still alive, he'd be like a grandfather to me. Always wiser, and very paternal, but with just a touch of mischief.
Sadly, he's not. Albus passed away the year Ron and I were 'on the streets' as they say. His funeral took a week to finish. Viewing times for the body were held over five days alone. The body is buried in an undisclosed location, it's heavily warded, and checked up on frequently by me personally.
Paraniod? Perhaps I am. But Alistair Moody died in his sleep at the age of one hundred fifty three, and it was because he was paranoid. Personally I'll take a little ridicule to ensure I spend as much time in this world as I am allotted.
Odd, I didn't used to feel that way. I just hoped to make it to the end of term. After we destroyed Riddle, I always felt like I was living on borrowed time. That was until Ginnys and my wedding.
If you ever read about some couple that are famous and they run off and find a quiet place to get married, don't tut at them. Smile and be happy for them. Once word got out about the wedding we had people I didn't even KNOW wanting to come. It was, after all to be the social event of the season.
I'm surprised the queen wasn't coming, though Ministers from five other countries were. It was a nightmare. What started out as a quiet ceremony in Ottery St. Catchpole turned into a multi-day affair. Oh yes. Multi-day. As in several. As in damn near a week.
The first day was a rather elegant wedding. Everything Ginny deserved to feel like a princess on her wedding day. The ceremony itself took two full hours. Then enough pictures were taken to ensure every living person in the world muggle and wizard alike had a personal copy. Then we retired to our hotels until the dinner.
The dinner was a catered affair, taking place in a lovely field. I have no idea where the field is, nor do I care to. I apparently have allergies to pollen or some such. I found this out along with four hundred guests when the wind changed direction, and I didn't stop sneezing until Molly gave me a potion to take. The rest went ok I guess, but it was far too much food, and I didn't really care for the company.
The third night was a formal ball, and for the third night in a row, we dressed in our wedding clothes, cleaned and pressed by our elves. The ball was another highly social affair, a 'light buffet' with enough food to feed a small nation and the dance went on until midnight.
That night, we slipped away with little more than hooded black robes and a large bag of gold. In the dead of night Mr. and Mrs. James Evans took a long distance Portkey to Egypt. From there they appeared in Australia where we stayed for a month. That night a lone owl winged its way north to England with a note from us telling Molly and Arthur we were fine, but in hiding in a hotel in muggle Australia. We'd be in contact with them again in three weeks.
We still wound up changing hotels four times in three weeks as the press would find us, and we'd be forced to move to avoid them for another few days. We took a vacation from our vacation a month later; the Potter's slipped from view.
It was while we were away on our honeymoon that I realized something. I EARNED my time here. I was OWED a long, happy life, and dammit, I was getting what was owed to me.
So, Albus Dumbledore then. Mentor? Definitely. Friend? When it suited his purposes. Confidante? In some matters, yes and in others no. The man was very complex, even I who spent more time with him than anyone else never even scratched the surface.
In many ways he had had a worse life than me. He had lived through the hell that was wartime England, and had bested the reigning Dark Lord of the time. We were actually more alike than not honestly.
So it hurt, more than I care to admit most of the time, and it took several years after Albus died to say it aloud, that I had come to regard Albus as the grandfather I knew I had had at one time. Sirius had told me once in Grimmauld Place that he spent time at my grandfather's place after he had run away from home. So I knew they were alive while my parents had been in Hogwarts.
I had also guessed that Potter had been one of the old lines of 'pure blood' magic. Didn't make us any better than anyone else. Just meant we could trace our history back into the past and most of us had wands, and graduated from the same school. One day I'll become more interested in genealogy and I'll trace back my family. Right now though all the family I care about is right here.
Well let's see we've discussed everything I can think of to skirt the issue of the Ministry Incident.
"Well Mr. Potter as you see here we have a special treat then. This area has been set aside to show some of the highlights from the first of a series of skirmishes with You-Know-Who, that eventually lead to his downfall."
It is going to be exceptionally rough to write this section. I really don't want to after all. It's finalizing what happened that night in a way I don't want it finalized. Because by writing it down I am making it permanent, and that's the last thing I wanted to do.
The story goes we took the Thestrals to the Ministry of Magic. This is true. As is the inane badges we received from the booth.
You have to understand that I had never intended on endangering anyone else, let alone my friends, but they are too pig-headed to stay where they are told to. I suppose though, if you are going to be friends the Harry Potter, the qualifications should include 'stubborn git'. Merlin knows they all fit that description.
My first (and last) trip to the Department of Mysteries would have been thrilling if it hadn't been for the fact I was being chased by Death Eaters and trying to rescue Sirius, whom I was sure was being tortured to death.
Which brings me back to the link between me and Riddle. Now that he had learned he could use the link to feed me information and press his emotions on me, it became wise to shut that door off.
Dumbledore tried to explain to me in those last few days of term why he had chosen Severous Snape to teach me Occlumancy, but I wasn't in a mood to listen right then. No, I was far more in a mood to break things.
It makes sense now actually, Snape was the only one who actually used occlumancy to trick Riddle, so it really only makes sense that he teach me to block it. Of course that doesn't change that he actually made it easier for Riddle to get to me. Nor does it change that he made the experience far worse than it had to be.
Armed with, well, nothing really but a driven need to save Sirius, off we fled wands out and spells flying to save someone who was sitting in an armchair in front of a warm fire talking with Remus Lupin about the summer holiday, and if I would be staying there. In his pocket was a small mirror. The twin to the mirror he had given me and I oh so thoughtfully stashed in the bottom of my trunk without ever opening.
Did you forget about the mirror? I did. Great kid like I was, thought of EVERYTHING. Why I executed a near flawless plan, we, except the part about us not getting caught, and the part when I trusted that malevolent house-elf, and the part where I didn't LISTEN to the brightest witch in a century when she told me to try another means to contact Sirius.
Ah yes, for my stunning display of leadership I got my godfather killed. But wait, there's more. I discovered a prophecy that said that it was Tom or me. That's right, to add to all the wonderful things it is to be Harry Potter, I got to include a kill or be killed prophecy on top of that. Yay, what fun.
On the other hand I actually got to see Dumbledore fight. It really was something, if it had been any other duel I would have said it was brilliant. He had a certain flare that one cannot deny. His methods and mastery of magic are without a doubt the most intriguing thing.
I tend to focus on beating down the opponent, and using brute-force barriers to protect myself in duels. Albus used every trick I have ever seen, and I think he made some up on the spot. Sadly I never really talked to him about this, there really wasn't much time before the final battle between me and Riddle, and in the year after, Albus was suffering from the after affects of the curses until he passed away eight months later.
I believe I am the only one who has gotten away with the kind of damage done to a Headmaster's office that I did the night Albus told me about the prophecy. I must have wrecked a thousand galleons with of instruments and furniture. The first thing I did when I saw him that next year was to apologize and promise to replace the items.
Albus laughed and informed me that he kept nothing of any significant value at Hogwarts. I have come to find out that Albus valued very little really. People, knowledge, books these are valuable, but not items, not material wealth.
When you come right down to it, Tom and I are a lot alike. We both have black hair. We are both orphans, and had rough childhoods. We use similar wands, and are really not that un-alike personality wise. Ginny told me it was one of the reasons it was so easy for him to work on her, he acted so much like me.
I have a scar he gave me, and I killed him. That pretty much covered it.
Now, let's continue onward.