A/N: Hello my lovely readers! This chapter was very difficult to write; you'll see why.

When I was in high school, I had a friend who committed suicide. It was a very dark time for me, and our other friends, as we tried to come to terms with why and how someone who had SEEMED so happy could do something so terrible. The hardest part for me was accepting that there had been something terribly, terribly wrong, and I hadn't seen it. I had been one of his best friends, and I had missed completely those things that afterwards became VERY obvious as cries for help.

One wonderful reviewer told me in his review of the last chapter that this was his favorite story. This chapter is for him – James, you can't possibly know how much your support has meant. I'm certain that if you hadn't directed some people over here, I would have long since stopped writing it. The support I get from so many here is directly due to your referral, thank you.

CQ


Chapter Nineteen: The Death of a Wizard

In the following days, they learned more about the extent of the attack on the magical world. Information came in from America and Australia, Africa and Asia. All had similar reports. Massive coordinated attacks spread over hundreds, even thousands of miles, all mapping out into strange patterns.

The muggle world, for the most part, was convinced that the attacks were merely more terrorist activities, and this seemed to give them further resolve to fight it. Harry and the others were thankful for that. They were not yet prepared to deal with widespread panic.

Arthur, as Minister of Magic, received much information which was not freely available, nor even available through the Order's network. He brought home boxes of files every night, and sequestered himself with the others in Harry's office for hours at a time.

Pictures were flooding in of destroyed homes, sometimes entire towns. Personal reports from eyewitnesses spoke of massive explosions, strange looking people wearing strange clothing, and feelings of depression and extreme cold prior to the attacks.

Further horror stories of women and children being carried off by these creatures, screaming into the night, and the dying and injured left behind, unable to help.

Bodies began to appear, laying in parks miles from their destroyed homes, laying in stream beds and floating in rivers. Many reported missing were not found, simply added to the rosters of those who might never be seen again.

The muggle press called it full-scale terror attacks on British soil. Harry agreed, but knew that the origin of those terrorists was not some cave in Afghanistan, or a culture of desperate people more dead than alive from hunger and injustice. It was something much older, much darker, and he feared, as did the rest of the Order, that the muggle world hadn't seen anything yet.

The majority of the families attacked were wizarding families, or had some connection to the wizarding world, but many were simply people. Quite often, they were neighbors to magical families, whom many in the magical world thought were the original targets of the attacks. Either those carrying out the attacks weren't good at reading maps, or when thwarted in the original plan, they had simply chosen to take out their aggression on the nearest available target.

Many of the most heinous attacks were on muggle families living near a wizarding family who had had the good luck to not be home at the time of the attack.

Harry and Ron, as trained Aurors, were able to access the sites. Some of the things that Harry witnessed that week, the true horror of what one human being was capable of doing to another, even after death, would stay with him, he was sure, beyond the grave. He had seen horrible things during the first war, especially during the final battle, but this... this depravity was unprecedented so far as he was concerned.

"Harry," Arthur said late one night after finishing reviewing some reports from the Cotswolds together. "I've been contacted by officials from most of Europe and Asia. They're looking to you for guidance in this, Harry."

"Me?" Harry looked up from the papers he was reading.

"Yes. You."

"Arthur... why me? You're the Minister..."

"Yes, Harry, I am," Arthur agreed tiredly, removing his glasses and rubbing this eyes. He was not a young man, and the strain was beginning to show. "But perhaps it's time for me to step down."

"Arthur!" Harry sat back in his chair, shocked.

"Harry, I've seen two wars begin and end. I don't know if I've got the stamina for a third."

"We need you!" Harry said firmly.

"The magical world needs a hero, Harry. I've never been hero material, and certainly never wanted to be. You, on the other hand..."

"No. Not again," Harry said, shaking his head.

"Harry, I've always known that my appointment as Minister was just to keep things moving until you were ready to take over. The people are going to need someone that they can all believe in..."

"You." Harry stated.

"No, Harry. Not me. Many disagree with me, with my ways of doing things. Besides, I've never defeated a Dark Lord."

"Arthur..."

"Harry, enough. Molly and I have talked. It's time for me to step down. Would you have the position go to someone with political ambitions rather than the good of our world in mind? Someone like Fudge?"

Harry sighed, "I really don't want you to do this, Arthur. At least, not now."

"Harry, we all have to do what is best. This is what is best."

"You'll stay on as an advisor?" Harry asked.

"Of course. I'm not going anywhere, I'm just handing the reins over to a more capable wizard."

Harry snorted, "Does 'capable' go with 'scared spitless'? Because let me tell you..."

"You'll do fine, Harry."

"Well," Harry tossed the handful of papers down on his desk and rubbed his hands over his face in exhaustion. It was well past midnight and he'd been up since five that morning. "We still have to get through the election. Nothing is written in stone yet."

It was Arthur's turn to snort, "Like that is going to be a problem."

Half an hour later, Harry crawled between the sheets of the huge four poster bed he now shared with his wife. He moved around, shifting until he found a comfortable position. Ginny rolled over, curling into his side, her hair tickling his nose.

"Harry?" she murmured.

"Yes, love?"

"What time is it?"

"Around one."

"You need to be up in a few hours."

"Yes, love."

"You work too hard," she sighed, her lips soft against the skin of his neck.

"It needs to be done, Gin'."

"I love you."

"I know," he whispered.

As he drifted off, he felt her kiss his chest, and wrap herself around him.

How had he gotten so lucky?


Seamus Finnegan had been a dorm mate of Ron and Harry's from school. For seven years, he, Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas, Ron and Harry had shared living space for ten months of every year.

He had grown from a skinny Irish boy with a penchant for blowing things up, into a handsome youth. Seamus had never lacked for dates to the various balls they had had at school. He had averaged four different girlfriends per year from his third year on, his personal best being seven in sixth year. And he wasn't always fussy about ending it with one before moving on to another, sometimes in the same night.

He had had a reputation for being able to get his hands on just about anything. If you needed it, and didn't want it generally known either that you had it or where you had gotten it, you went to Seamus. All of his transactions were done with a grin and a bit of Irish blarney, and generally a wink and a pinch if you happened to be of the female persuasion.

His reputation for being able to put his hands on just about anything, should the need arise lent itself well to the illicit market for spirits in the boys' dorms of the boarding school, and not just the Gryffindor dorms. Seamus' trade crossed house lines freely. He was welcome in all common rooms, because it was generally known that he was probably there delivering something to someone.

After Hogwarts, he had continued on and trained as an auror, taking the traditional three years to complete the program. He was known as a reliable addition to any auror team, and had a reputation as a tenacious duellist, due, he claimed, to his training it the DA with Harry Potter. His activities as a womanizer and hard drinker carried on well after school.

He had fought next to Harry and Ron in the final battle, taking on his share of Death Eaters, seemingly unconcerned with his liberal use of unforgivable curses. He had cried later, after being told of Dumbledore's death and Hermione's part in it. They had had to physically restrain him from going after Malfoy and ripping him to shreds.

It was ten years later that he had met his come-uppance in the form of a tiny blackhaired firebrand by the name of Lacey McTigue. She was clear and outspoken about her beliefs and stood for none of Mr Finnegan's messing about. Within three months, Seamus had quit drinking, quit brawling, and married her.

They later managed to produce two boys, who were the joy and reason for Seamus' existence. Seamus Finnegan had finally grown up, and he was a happy and settled husband and father.

When Lacey and the boys were killed in the initial raids that year, Seamus turned to the only comfort he had known his entire life, besides his wife: Seamus turned back to Firewhiskey. Harry and Ron and encountered him several times in the Leaky Cauldron, and either carted him home or to Potter Manor to sleep it off. Occasionally, they suspected more than just Firewhiskey, but said nothing, choosing instead to discuss it with Seamus later.

It was only when he stopped turning up in the Leaky Cauldron that they truly began to worry.

"You think he's here?" Ron asked, standing at the bottom of the dim stairs leading up to the room over Fortesques that Seamus had managed to rent after the destruction of his home and death of his family.

"I don't know, but we need to find out," Harry sighed. "Lord, Ron, this place is horrible."

"Seamus hasn't worked in a few months," Ron said. "Kingsley told me they just ended up not scheduling him, because he never showed up to his shifts, anyhow."

"If I'd known he was living like this..."

"Harry, you've got to stop bringing home strays, you know?"

"Seamus isn't a stray, Ron. He's lost his entire family. First his parents and brother in the last war, and now Lacey and the boys. I don't know how I would get up in the morning if it were me."

"Maybe he just doesn't," Ron commented, before turning stricken eyes on Harry when he realized what he had just said. "You don't think...?"

"Jesus, I hope not," Harry muttered. "Come on."

The scene they witnessed at the top of the stairs made both of them want to retch. The room was ridiculously neat, a white envelope sitting squarely in front of the single chair at the worn, but clean, formica table. Seamus lay on a neatly made single bed in the far corner.

It was obvious that he'd been gone for a couple of days. The stench was unbelievable. Harry quickly took out his mobile phone and dialled the number for Bill Weasley.

"Bill, it's Harry. You need to come..." Harry swallowed. "It's Seamus Finnegan. Yes. Yes, we'll need them, but I don't want anyone else knowing about this until you've had a chance to assess it. Okay. Above Fortesques. Okay, thanks."

It was only a moment later when they heard footsteps on the stairs.

"Harry? Ron?" Bill entered the room, immediately taking a sharp breath at the smell. "Holy Merlin!"

Bill slowly assessed the room, the way Seamus was lying on the bed, the placement of the note, Seamus' wand lying against his chest, the mark there that showed what he had done. Bill took out his own wand and muttered something indistinct while moving it over the body. Seamus' wand glowed green for a moment.

Bill sighed. "He used the death curse."

"On himself?" Harry asked.

"It is possible," Bill said quietly.

"I know it's possible..." Harry said, obviously upset. "I just didn't... you're telling me he did this himself?"

"Yes, Harry," Bill confirmed quietly.

"You're absolutely certain?"

"Yes. I'm certain." Bill said. "He left a note?"

"Looks like it," Ron said quietly, holding his hand over the envelope on the table and looking questioningly up at his older brother.

"It's okay," Bill confirmed, nodding.

Ron picked it up and opened it, reading silently. Then, tears in his eyes, he held the letter out to Harry as he turned away.

Harry read it,

I figure Harry's going to find this. Or Ron. Maybe Neville, but I doubt it. Dean's gone, so it sure as bloody hell won't be him. It's more than likely Harry and Ron, together. You two are too damned predictable, you know?

So, if you be reading this, it means I've done as I intended. I can't do it again, lads. I can't stand in front of them, seeing them, fighting them, knowing what they did to my Lacey and my boys, and guarantee you I won't snap and just start flinging curses. I can't endanger anyone else through my anger.

It's better this way, anyhow. I want to be with my wife, and my sons. It just hurts too damned much to fight any longer.

I'd be asking you to keep it quiet. Toss me somewhere and let me rest. If you have the need, a drink raised to me occasionally is all that I want, as we've done many a time for Dean. My Lacey wouldn't approve, but that's as it should be.

S.

"Dear Merlin," Harry said quietly, handing the note to Bill.

After a moment, Bill looked up at him, "How do you want to handle this, then?"

"The ministry will have to know?"

"Suspicious wizard death," Bill nodded in confirmation. "I'm surprised that they didn't take note of the unforgivable being used and investigate immediately."

"They've got their own problems right now," Ron said quietly. "Call Dad, find out if we can... do as Seamus asked. Keep it quiet."

"I'll call a friend of mine..." Bill said. "He'll probably be able to file the necessary paperwork and let it go."

While Bill was on the phone, Harry and Ron were standing over Seamus.

"We'll do what we can, Harry," Ron said.

"We should have come sooner."

"It wouldn't have made any difference," Ron said. "It only takes a moment..."

"I should have known how he was feeling. I did know... "

"Harry, you can't be responsible for everyone elses' choices," Ron said quietly. "We need you too badly right now for you to allow yourself to feel this way."

"Seamus..."

"Is gone, Harry. There is no going back from that. Let's just make damned sure that this bloody bastard who is causing all this trouble isn't allowed to do what he did to Seamus' family to someone elses. Right?"

Harry sighed, looking down at the body of the friend he'd known for twenty four years. "You're right, Ron."

"Of course I am," Ron smiled sadly. "Unfortunately, I'm right far too often for my own comfort."

Bill's friend from the ministry arrived, took Harry and Ron's statements, studied the body and cast a few spells over it. Within fifteen minutes of arriving, he was comfortable with declaring it a suicide, and filled out the appropriate paperwork.

"Can we...?" Harry left the question unasked.

"Arrange for burial? Of course," he fished in his pockets and came up with a card. "This is a service that will take care of all of the more... basic needs. Quietly."

"Thank you," Harry took the card, and shook the aging wizards' hand. "Thank you for your understanding."

"Young man, you and your friends are not unknown, or without respect. I know who that young man is. He deserved better than he got."

After dealing with the details of Seamus' burial, and hiring a firm to take care of the cleaning of the small room he had spent his last months in, the three made their way back to Potter Manor. Harry was surprised to see that only four hours had passed.

"Harry?" Ginny stood in the kitchen doorway, watching as the three apparated into the room.

"Gin," Harry smiled sadly, reaching out for her.

"Seamus?"

Harry didn't speak, just shook his head and buried his face in her hair.

"Ron?" She whispered, looking beseechingly at her brother over her husband's shoulder.

"He's gone, Gin." Ron said.

"Gone?"

"Gone. He used the death curse on himself."

"Dear Merlin," Ginny whispered, wrapping one arm tightly around Harry, and taking Ron's hand and pulling him into her embrace as well.


Arthur Weasley's prediction turned out to be true. Upon announcing his resignation, a call was put out for the nomination of candidates for the post. It was a mere formality. Over the following seven days, they received many nominations. Every one was for the same person.

Three days later, Harry James Potter was sworn in as the youngest wizard ever to hold the position of Minister of Magic.


Okay, folks – I got some lovely reviews, and I want to thank you for them. You know, I was concerned when I originally posted this fic that I might end up getting some flames, but everyone's response has been so positive and supportive. You're all great – thank you!

Texasjeannette: Wow – what a nice review! Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Saerry Snape: What a dichotomy you are, my dear. Love and War... Hey, that sounds like a cool title for a fic...

azntgr01: Thanks! I'm still trying to figure out what your name means...

lalaluu: Thanks – keep reading and keep reviewing (reviews make me feel nice!)

Shotgunn: Come ON, it HAD to be "Min". They can't be calling her "professor" for the rest of their lives, although Harry slips up occasionally. Besides, after the war, fighting beside someone, you simply can't keep up the formality – and I think she's marshmallow underneath. BTW – I like the name you chose... sounds rather Celtic, doesn't it?

Merlindamage: "Back on track"? Oh, I love you! Rest assured, there is more "war" stuff coming... hopefully Harry and the others will be ready for it.

James Milamber: Thank you so much! Your reviews are always inspiring to me, but this one takes the cake! To be thought of as anyone's favorite... you have no idea of the boost you just gave me, my friend!

Larna Mandrea: Thanks!

CQ