W1: Calm down, we are only trying to understand. Where exactly is his corpse? H: I told you! How many times do I have to repeat myself? I absorbed him. There is
no corpse! W12: Do not raise your voice at us, young man. I will have some respect here— H: You know what. Go bloody fuck yourselves. W1: Guards. Restrain him. We'll continue with him next week.
-transcripts taken from the War Crimes Trial, 1/13/2001

Ultimate Harry Potter
By Oirams

Chapter 2 A Weasley Reunion

When Harry arrived to the Ministry, he was amazed to see how the place had changed. The walls scraped the skies, and the march of pikemen doing patrols could be seen on every gate. It was a fortress, built more for war, it seemed, than for government.

The first gate lifted as a pimply, freshly graduated, cadet gave salute to Viktor. "Good mornin', Commissioner Krum!" Viktor nodded respectfully back and strode purposefully forward. Harry could not hold back himself. The exchange with the cadet had been so...formal. "It is protocol," explained Viktor. Harry laughed, mimicking the soldier's salute. "Stop it, Harry. You aren't veing vunny. This is vat I do vor a living," stated Viktor emotionlessly. "You do know of vat I speak of? Some of us have to vork in order to eat. Unlike you." Harry's smile disappeared.

The second and third gate guards saluted Viktor in the same fashion, with fists over the heart. Harry nodded approvingly as the guards wand-scanned them-Just in case they were affected with the Imperius Curse and were under the control of Dark Magi. Harry himself had developed the particular spell the guards used, 'Libertannus', back when he had been a sixth year student at Hogwarts School of Wizardry. Harry leaned to one of the guard's ear and whispered, "Next time, young man, scan me with your left, and have your spare wand ready in your right. It's not wise to be complacent just because a person's come with an Auror. Nothing's more dangerous and stupid than complacency. Believe you me." As Harry and Viktor left, the young guard who Harry had given advice flipped them the bird behind their backs. "Can you believe that bloke? Tell me how to run mah business. The gall!"

"He 'ad a scar. He 'ad a scar." said the other guard slowly. "It woz shaped like lightning..." "Oh, come off it," laughed the younger guard. "That can't be him. Harry Pott-He-He has, MOST definitely, to be dead by now. What with You-know- who's Curse on him and all. There's no way someone could survive a Killing Curse for ten years. Not even HIM." "Yeah, you're right," replied the other. For a few minutes, both remained silent, fidgeting like the fresh-out-of-Hogwarts boys they were. They both knew the stories concerning Potter. They had heard them during their sixth year at Hogwarts. The Seventh-year Slytherins—Damn their hides—had started spreading horrible stories, one of which described a terrible fire that had taken the lives of half Gryffindor's graduating class of '97. The two guards, along with their Gryffindor classmates, had then retaliated by dumping an old barrel of Itching Powder on the offending Slytherins (for some reason, the barrel had been discovered under the floorboards of Gryffindor Commons with the words, 'Have Fun –F.W. & G.W.'). Unfortunately, the day had been quite windy, and the powder went on EVERYONE—Including the professors. Gryffindors weren't especially known for thinking things through. The two young guards struggled not to shudder as the scariest of those frightful urban legends came to mind: The tale of the Gryffindor Train Massacre. The Death Eaters had waylaid the train heading to Hogwarts. When the traincars were finally recovered, only half of the Gryffindors survived, the rest were found inside the train's furnace, charred and melted beyond identification. "No," the guards said together, "Couldn't be him." They strained their eyes at the clock, as if trying to hurry it. It was a silly fear, but a real one. Potter wasn't a celebrity. He was bad luck.

Harry walked behind Viktor as the endless corridors unfurled before him. "This reminds me of Hogwarts," remarked Harry. Viktor nodded, "Since Hogvort's vos the only place You-know-voo could not enter, the Minister of Magic thinked that copying the school's design vould be very excellent to do, yes? Ve must hurry. I believe the Governors und everyvun of vorth is already at the Round Table. Ve should not keep them vaiting." Viktor led the way past another set of guards, to where a large painting of a fat woman awaited them.
Harry recognized her immediately.
"Hello. Shouldn't you be at Hogwarts telling young wizards to obey curfew?" asked Harry mirthfully.
The painting grinned and said proudly. "I've gotten promoted." The fat woman in the painting then realized that it was Harry Potter she was talking to and stood in silent awe before remembering what her job was, "Oh, yes. I almost forgot. Password, please."
"Cedric Diggory," stated Viktor and the painting swung open revealing a large meeting hall. Harry took a deep breath. This was the War Chamber. Back in the Great War, all the plans for defense against the Death Eater Army had been drawn here. Back then, Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, leader of the Phoenix Order, had sat in the highest chair and issued orders around the table. It had been a hectic time and the furniture for the room had been clumsily supplied. The furnishings had been left unchanged. The round table still sat commandingly in the center of the room, but Harry's trained eyes could see that it had been magicked. The table would accommodate any number of wizards and witches, and yet retain its size. It utilized a clever method, one that was oddly familiar...
"Hello, Harry."
Harry gave a genuine smile this time. "Hello, Ginny," he replied. The wide, rich, gold-touched purple robes flowed regally upwards as Virginia Weasley, Minister of Muggle Relations, stood up from her chair. Virginia walked carefully to Harry; they had not seen each other in nearly ten years. "Brilliant," said Virginia, returning Harry's grin albeit done with streaming tears, "I had heard that you were on your deathbed...Oh, I'm so glad that you're still alive!--I mean..." "I missed you too," said Harry. They hugged each other awkwardly. It was not too long ago when Harry would have been overjoyed at seeing her. Somehow, he felt emotionally detached. He had been away for too long, and he did not want to assume any friendships that weren't freely offered. "It's been too long, Harry," said Minister Weasley, taking her seat. "Only ten years," said Harry, and then whistled. "Little Ginny Weasley. A minister. If Ron was here, he'd have been mighty proud of you." Harry added after a while, "I'm proud of you." Virginia blushed, "Thanks, Harry." There was a moment of silence between them as they both recalled their experiences at Hogwarts together. There was a heavy void where the memory of Ronald Weasley should have been. Ron had been Virginia's brother, and when he was murdered, both Virginia and Harry had been devastated. Like so many others, Ron had been a casualty of the fight against Voldemort's Return. Unbidden, the memory unfolded itself inside Harry's head. Ron had been reenacting his miraculous Keeper save during the Quidditch championships for House Cup, while Hermione had made busy fixing Ron's graduation robe, which had loosened BECAUSE of Ron's jumping from seat to seat like a maniac...It happened then. The train halted, the lights snapped, and the Death Eaters moved in...Even after so many years, the very memory of the incident still made Harry sweat and tremble. It was Ginny who interrupted Harry's sad moment. She had been a few years younger than her brother, and had not been on that train full of hopeful Hogwarts graduates. She hadn't watched helplessly like Harry had when they had begun to drag his classmates, one by one, into the furnace car.

"I was gunning for being head honcho in charge of England's Auror Division," spoke Virginia, pointing a finger accusingly to Krum. She was oblivious to Harry's sudden depression. " But he took the job away from me. Bloody foreigner." Viktor Krum snorted and shifted his insignia as if snubbing her. Virginia grinned in spite of herself. Harry saw, with his astute eyes, that there was more than just friendship between them, and he felt his heartstrings yank a little. But it subsided quickly, he realizing that he would never be able to have a future with anyone, much less with Ginny. The Ministry had decided that Harry be the last Potter. It was better for the world, they deemed, that there should never be another heir to Slytherin. That had been one of most bitter in a series of agreements forced upon Harry. But there had been no choice. It had been either that or lose his freedom.

Virginia Weasley, who was oblivious yet again to Harry's wretched looks and had been talking throughout, said. "—Not that I mind being a Minister, mind you but sometimes it's rather more trouble than it's worth. Day in and day out, handling the paperwork, the human resources...It's enough to drive a person mad. Daddy must have been insane or enormously patient. Really, these blodgers are so thick-headed sometimes—" Harry laughed, and then pointed to her that those 'thick-headed blodgers' were sitting all around the table and could, in fact, hear her. Ginny rolled her eyes at Harry but turned around to flash an 'I'm only kidding, folks!' thumbs up sign to the rest of the Order.

Viktor and Harry went round the table, searched for their placards and then sat down on their assigned chairs. After awhile, the magick in the table moved Harry around next to Virginia. Harry grinned and then gesticulated to Virginia using the secret sign language he and Virginia's brother had devised: Is this table your handiwork? Not too shabby, eh? Virginia signed back, grinning broadly with full lips.
Harry answered back that it was impeccable work and then began to search the Round Table for recognizable faces. Aside from Virginia and Viktor, the rest of the ministers and wizards of the round table were edging their chairs away from Harry as if he were a plague and to be avoided. "Where's Dumbledore?" asked Harry. "He retired five years ago. Said he vos too old for the job. I am thinking, however, he vos... Dumbledore's..." began Viktor. "Vell, he feels responsible for you. With all the rumours that haff been vritten about you, and you taking off, he thinks he haff failed you und.." "Oh, rubbish," whispered Virginia. "Dumbledore resigned because he tried to return your wand back to you and these tossers..." She pointed to Amos Diggory, Cornelius Fudge, and someone covered in head to toe in silver armor. And by the cut of it, Harry recognized it to be from Weasley Forge Number 12; the newest of the Excalibur Pro line. The price was exorbitant. Other than the military, there was practically no person or organization that could cover the cost. Harry wondered how anyone in public service could afford...Ginny snapped her fingers in front of Harry's face, trying to catch his attention. "...they wouldn't allow it. So Dumbledore resigned. And these morons let him. I was about to resign too but father made me promise not to do anything rash." Ginny's eyes flared up as she pointed again to the Silver Armored fellow that sat next to Diggory. Her voice became conspiring, and she bent her head into Harry's ear so that no one could overhear her. "I hate them ALL. Especially that Dr. Franken in the armor over there. He's the new Minister of Mysteries, and he's a prick through and through. Did you know what he said to me just yesterday?" She straightened up, mimicking a dry, dull, yet condescending tone, which, Harry guessed, was her feeble attempt at voice-acting. 'Oh, you're the new Muggle Minister? A woman, oh my. Well, there must be something to you. I mean, after all, I'm sure you're brother didn't appoint you the post just because you were related to him. In fact, you must be a hard worker. My guess is that you're a Huffle- puff type person. You have that goofy industriousness look about you. I'm right aren't I? You were sorted into Hufflepuff in Hogwarts, were you not?'" Her flaming hair matched the color of her ears, which had become beet red with indignity. "And then, he had the bloody balls to continue on, asking me to go to him immediately if I encountered any problems my 'little mind' couldn't handle. The bugger went like: 'Ravenclaws are always glad to help our fellow Hufflepuffs. And all the while, the pervert was trying to look down the cut front of my dress robe! Minister of Mysteries...bah...'e prolly spends his time reading blue mags, more likely!" Virginia, in the heat of telling her story, had rolled up her sleeves in anger, much like her brother Ron used to do. Viktor saw the telltale signs, and whispered warningly into her ear. She was a Minister and undue outbursts were unbecoming. She frowned but heeded Viktor's advice. She continued to speak to Harry but her whispers lost none of its intended ferocity. "And I swear, one of these days, he's going to push me a little too far, and I'll make him fart enough bats 'til his ass is baboon red. And then I'll take that doctorate of his, bash his head, and then string him naked on the parapets. And then spell him with boils. Lots and lots of boils. All over...I will, I tell you...Hufflepuff...How dare he..."

Viktor sighed, flinching away from Virginia as she continued her gleeful, vindictive rambling. He looked at Harry with perched eyebrows, as if to say that this was what he had to work with. Harry realized then just how much he had missed having friends. He smiled genuinely again for the second time in ten years, "So who's the First of the Phoenix then?" "Are we all here?" a loud voice boomed. Harry turned around as a tall person stepped out of the door of light. In an instant Harry's hands balled into fists and only Ginny and Viktor's quick reactions kept him from launching himself at the newcomer. Virginia held Harry down by his jacket, " Calm down! I know you and my brother have never seen eye to eye...but he's the Head of the Order now. You should be respectful—" Harry jerked away and almost spat in front of Ginny's face, "Have you gone completely mad? You're saying that..." He pointed wildly at the man seating himself on the largest chair, "... that...psycho...is...the Leader of the Order?" His hand grasped for his side but the wand was not there; It had been stripped from him ten years ago when the public found out about his merger with Voldemort; the resulting uproar demanded that Harry be expelled from Auror training. He vaguely remembered himself crying when they came to snap his wand. It was too long ago for caring. But Percy...Harry remembered Percy all too well. Virginia Weasley darkened her face and straightened to her full stature. Even in her chair, she was tall, as were all the Weasley children. She said, with every word pulsing singularly, "Don't. Insult. Percy. My brother's a great man. You don't know what he sacrificed in order to gain Voldemort's trust. He deserves every bit of his success, and he needn't ill wishers like you, Potter." Harry didn't bother to argue with her but turned to stare hard at Percy instead. Percy's red hair was thinning but his figure was still kept as meticulously neat as he had in his younger days. Harry gripped the arms of his chair as tightly as he could; he couldn't believe how many things had changed in his absence. He nearly spat, "Don't you people remember what he did? He gave the Hogwarts train route to Voldemort!..He's the bloody reason you and I lost half our friends that day!" He gripped his chair so tightly, the pegs that held it in place threatened to bend every which way. It just isn't right, he thought, glaring jealously at Percy's shining Phoenix robes. It just isn't FAIR! Percy had spotted Harry, and although the shock was evident on his face, Percy still bowed; he was always one for formalities. Harry returned a smile, or a snarl-it was hard to tell—and waited for the activation sequence to begin. Percy cleared his voice, "Session five thousand three hundred and naught is held now! All please take your seats!" Harry's section of the Round Table lit up. So did many of the others until the whole tabletop was glowing blue with magical light. As soon as that happened, the light enveloped the Order, and the forty or so people were transported to the true Headquarters of the Order, a small cave whose location only the Head of the Order knew. The security measures are still enforced, mused Harry approvingly. He looked again to Percy. "Aaargh!" Harry's mind suddenly lurched as something deep within him surged hatefully forth. The world spun in green and blue colors. It felt like...every memory in his head threatened to escape from his skull. When the mental dust settled, he saw a horrific scene. It was the Hogwarts Express Massacre all over again...But Harry had not witnessed this part. This must be when they herded the Gryffindors into the furnace car, Harry thought. He saw a Death Eater pull open his mask...It was Percy! His face was ashen white and utterly passionless. With a deft move, Percy grabbed Ron's hair and was beginning to chant something. "No! Get off Ron! What are you doing? He's your brother!" But no matter how loud Harry screamed, no one heard. He was a witness trapped in someone else's memory. "Please, Percy. Don't kill me," sobbed Ron. "Please..." Harry heard Ron scream, struggling uselessly under a binding curse as Percy's wand dug deeper into Ron's skull. "NO!" yelled Harry involuntarily. The anger swelled in Harry until a voice whispered, 'DO YAH WONT REVENGE, MISTAH POTTER?' Yes. DO YAH WONT IT BAD ENOUGH? YES! Harry felt something stir within him. His blood boiled to an amazing heat, but quickly reversed so that he felt as though he were bleeding icewater. When Harry woke up from his stupor, he was surprised to find himself surrounded by wizards and smells of ozone in the air. "Harry!" roared Virginia. "What did you do?" She had jumped across the table and was now trying to stop Percy from bleeding to death. Viktor Krum, who already had his wand out, tightened the circle of Aurors around Harry's dazed form. "Harree J. Potter. You are under arrest for attempted murder of one Percy Weasley. Place your hands on the table..." Harry remembered himself standing up to protest and then, almost at once, six green lights blazed toward him. The spells hit him directly, blowing him away from his chair, and smacking him hard onto the cave walls. Harry slumped stupidly onto the ground; his eyes wide open from the intense shocks. Someone who was hovering above him said, "How did he create that spell? Isn't he supposed to be powerless?"
And then another, more recognizable voice said, "I don't know. I think...Maybe it's safer to kill him..." How could Ginny say that? But before Harry could think on it further, the world slipped completely away, leaving nothing behind but unlifting darkness.

Author Notes: Too many people have said that my grammar confuses them. Well. So I've changed the structure of chapter 2 now. Instead of Stephen King/Vernor Vinge, I've made it Daniel Steele/Stephen King. I can't help it. I really admire that bloke.