Thanks to spacegal19 and Romulus Magnus, as always, for their sharp-eyed beta talents!

Thanks for all the great opinions on the Viagra/Christmas chapter. I've decided not change it, but I will use some of the suggestions for later chapters. I have changed chapter 16 to add Harry introducing his fiancé to his parents. Boy I really dropped the ball on that one!

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Chapter 17

Winds of Change

Cornelius Fudge, the minister of magic, put his head in his hands and propped himself on his desk. Percy Weasley came up with the never-ending stack of forms and letters for him to sign, and did his usual sucking-up dance. He glowered at him, wanting to beat him like a puppy that just wet the carpet, barely managing to feel a twinge of guilt for thinking that way.

He had just floo'd back from Hogwarts where Dumbledore was even less help than usual. He hated his job – the pressure, the never-ending crowds of ungrateful people, and the constantly complaining Wizengamot. Didn't people understand how much he had done for them? What was with all the constant grumbling? OK, perhaps he could have listened to Dumbledore and that blasted kid Potter and given everyone more time to prepare against You-Know-Who, but what is past is past – get over it.

Fudge stood up and looked out his charmed window, hands clasped behind his back. Nobody appreciated how hard this job was. Even his wife was mad at him. The only person who didn't criticize him was his fool of a secretary, Weasley, whom he had not one ounce of respect for. The door to his office opened, and the aforementioned fool stepped in and stammered "Sir, Madame Bones is here to see you."

"I don't want to talk to anyone right now, Weasley." Fudge said abruptly over his shoulder, not moving from the window.

"I'm afraid you have no choice, Minister" came the professional voice of Amelia Bones, who was standing by his desk, arms crossed and looking displeased.

"What do you want, Amelia? More complaints?" Fudge was practically whining, though he was privately sure it was coming across as a sneer. Percy was standing in the corner of the office with notepad and quill, ready for his command and looking very nervous.

"You've been removed from office, Cornelius." She stood there, strong and decisive, unafraid. He blanched, unwilling to look her in the eyes. "The Wizengamot voted overwhelmingly to replace you. Please clean out your office – I'll be back in a few hours after speaking with the Prophet. You – Weasley – come with me."

With a helpless look at the ex-minister, Percy slumped his shoulders and followed Madame Bones out of the office, pad and quill in hand.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

The four founderettes were sitting on the couch, munching popcorn and enjoying the fireworks. Although they were not as colorful as the twin's creations, they were quite noisy. The firework in question was the temper tantrum Dumbledore was pitching in his office. Shouting and screaming, throwing books and parchments, the headmaster had just received an owl with the news that the Wizengamot had ousted Fudge and replaced him with a witch who posessed a backbone and brain. And without asking him, Albus Dumbledore, Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Supreme Mugwump, and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.

It really didn't matter who was the minister. It was simply that they hadn't asked him. Ministers come and go – the real power was here in the seat of Hogwarts, tapping off the castle's almost limitless magic. But how DARE they not get his approval first? And he was the HEAD of the Wizengamot! Why wasn't he part of the vote?

That thought no sooner flitted through his angry mind when Fawkes gave a trill. It wasn't the comforting song of the phoenix – more like an avian raspberry. Dumbledore looked over at him and was shocked to see his familiar with a parchment in claw. A parchment that had obviously been on the floor under Fawkes's stand. He gingerly took the letter by a relatively clean corner and read it swiftly. Then the fireworks really started.

It was a call to an emergency meeting of the Wizengamot, concerning Fudge and his capabilities. If he had only seen it, he could have gone! If he could have gone, he could have decided the out come! Who had placed it on the floor for the bird's toilet? Could he of done it himself without realizing?

Fawkes was giving him a way-too smug look. Dumbledore stared at him, pondering if the bird could have hidden the letter himself. No – that was impossible. Phoenixes were very bright and magical, but he couldn't possibly be that smart, could he?

Fawkes continued to gaze at him with glittering, intelligent eyes.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o

Percy Weasley wandered aimlessly around Diagon Alley, still in shock from being sacked. Madame Bones, the new Minister of Magic, was kind, polite, but firm. She had her own secretary, and had no open positions for him at the moment. Fudge never spoke a word to him – pretended he wasn't even there as they both cleaned out their personal belongings. Then Fudge, Dolores Umbridge and him self were escorted from the building into the stark, painful world of unemployment.

Amelia Bones was very clear – Fudge had made too many mistakes and did not have the wizarding world's best interests at heart. She told him that the war was progressing at a dangerous pace, and the Wizengamot felt nothing was being done to find a way to defeat Voldemort. It was obvious to everyone that Fudge's solution to every problem was to discredit Harry Potter in the papers, when he was the only one to have bested he evil wizard in battle four times now. Britain was ready to look for solutions, and was tired of merely assigning blame on brave and innocent children.

The red head sat down heavily on an outdoor café seat and ordered a cup of tea. Halfway through the mug he looked up from his daze and realized he was right across from his brother's joke shop. With a sigh, he drank down the last of his beverage and headed over. It was time for some well-deserved punishment. He had backed the losing horse. He liked Harry – the kid had, after all, saved his father's and sister's life. But he hated the way the boy flaunted authority, never obeying rules. It was too easy to agree with Fudge about the kid – he must have been looking for attention, right? But even as he mulled this over, deep in his heart he knew he had persecuted an innocent victim – one who might be the answer to ending this war.

Percy opened the door and was met by his twin brother's evil smiles. "Looky here, Fred" George smiled with false sweetness.

"Ah – the prodigal brother. To what do we owe this, uh, honor?" Fred gave him a smarmy smile.

"I need to talk to you guys" Percy sighed, defeat written all over his face and body language. "Go ahead – start turning my hair pink now."

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

After a couple of trying hours, Percy left the store a new man. A puzzled, confused, and amazed man, but a new one. After intense questioning by his brothers, they concentrated and seemingly called Harry Potter into the store through telepathy, who then apparated over out of Hogwarts!

Potter, he was shocked to learn, was powerful. Very powerful. Kind, good, fair, he gently probed Percy's mind and was convinced of his sincerity. He completely forgave him as long as Percy would go and apologize to his parents, which he was planning on doing next anyway.

Percy Weasley had thought he knew everything. His parents would joke about the arrogance of youth – he supposed they hit the nail on the head with that. He, Percy, was always going to show his dad what a bit of incentive and hard work would do for a Ministry career. He was going to be the one to bring success to the Weasley family, after generations of laughed-at poverty. He was going to be the one to get it right.

The third Weasley son squared his shoulders, knowing that although Harry was young, he was the warrior he would willingly follow into battle. No more hiding behind a desk for him.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o

Arthur Weasley floo'd home late. By then the news was all over the wireless, and a special edition of the Prophet was delivered, so he had no doubt that his wife knew of Fudges' replacement. He was tired, with much news to tell Molly, and filled with concern over Percy.

Stepping out of the fireplace, he shook his head glancing around the parlor. He still wasn't use to this grand and fancy home. Molly pretended to be thrilled with it, no doubt for his and the children's sake, but he knew she was just as uncomfortable with the posh surroundings as he was. He longed for the simpler days of the Burrow, before Voldemort came back.

Molly heard her husband come through the fire, and practically ran into the kitchen. "Arthur" she breathed into his chest, grabbing him in a bone-crunching hug. "How are you?"

"Much to tell" he smiled down on the top of his wife's head and gave her a kiss. "But first things first – I learned poor Percy got cut along with Fudge – Amelia didn't want anyone that blindly loyal to Cornelius in her office. I'm really worried about him – I can't find him anywhere. I thought maybe I could get him a job in my new office."

He didn't see his son Percy in the doorway, who heard the whole thing. The boy's eyes filled with tears as he approached his father, head bent in shame. "Father" he said softly. "You would still try to find me a job after the way I've treated you the past two years?" Tears slowly dripped down his face.

Arthur let go of his wife, who smiled with understanding. He walked over to Percy, put his hands on his shoulders, and spoke softly in return. "We all make mistakes son. You are a Weasley. If you apologize to Harry, that's good enough for me."

Percy choked a bit. "I already have. He said he'd forgive me if I apologize to the both of you. Please, father, mother, forgive me. I thought I knew everything. I thought hard work and sucking up would get me promotions and success and teach you what is important in life. I was dead wrong. Family is important. Knowing right from wrong is important. A few extra galleons and popularity in the polls is fleeting and means nothing in the grand scheme of things. You work where you work because you love it and you get to avoid all the pettiness I embraced for two years." He kept his eyes down in shame.

Arthur hugged his son firmly, crying into his hair. "Welcome home, Percy."

O0o0o0o0o0o0o

It was a small wedding, held in Godric's Suitcase. Tonks, blushing bride with her natural looks for once, was marrying the werewolf Remus Lupin. The four founderettes stood in attendance as witnesses as the couple pledged their vows to each other, sealed with magic.

"Did you ask Dumbledore's permission first?" Luna asked with curiosity while she was congratulating the new husband and wife.

Tonks grinned and grew a long gray beard. Being a metamorphagus could be so much fun. "Nope. As Remus isn't a teacher anymore, and I don't work for him except in the Order, he has no idea. We figured we'd announce it at the next Order meeting and watch his reaction."

"Um, honey?" Remus looked over and interrupted. "You will lose the beard before tonight, right?"

"My legs match the beard!" Tonks winked at her new husband. Everyone turned an interesting shade of green without the help of metamorphagus talent.

O00o0o0o0o0o0o0

Ron Weasley glowered darkly, arms crossed over his chest. He was sitting in the locker rooms, still stinging from a resounding game loss to Hufflepuff, of all houses. His life was falling apart. It felt like Harry's refusal to play Quiddich this year had jinxed the team beyond repair.

It wasn't just Quiddich, he frowned. It was everything, and he was quite willing to blame it all on Harry. Harry 'oooh-I'm-too-important-to-the-cause-to-play-Quidditch' Potter. Stupid prophecy really went to the Boy-Who-Lived's head. Even if he was the one destined to kill Voldemort, and collect even more fame and galleons for the effort, it didn't mean he couldn't lay back and have some fun and play some Quidditch before that happened.

Harry could have any girl in Hogwarts. He was too thick to understand how the ladies just threw themselves at him. Any girl and the prat had to choose the one he wanted to have fun with. Ron didn't love Hermione – not in the least. It was fun to rile her up, and he had heard time and time again how muggle girls are easy for a good time. He was mad because he had kept himself mostly away from girls to stay close pals with Harry on Dumbledore's request (and pay check). Harry stole the one girl Dumbledore said he could have. And now they were engaged? At their age? Why – when Harry could be dating super models and playing the field.

During the long hours of prefect duties, Ron never caught Harry wandering the halls, sneaking to the kitchens, or even snogging with his betrothed. What did the geek do for fun?

To make matters even worse, Percy had returned to mum and dad after getting sacked at the ministry. And Harry was in back of his family's happy reunion. Ron rolled his eyes. Perfect Harry. Harry Who-Can-Do-No-Wrong Potter. Oh well, at least Dad got a raise and a bigger office.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Harry was sitting at the dining table in Godric's Suitcase facing the fireplace where Remus, Griphook, Dobby, and naturally Neville, Hermione and Luna had joined him. They were having a deep discussion over Riddle and his power in a time slowed environment.

Hermione had set a canvas, painted murky black, propped up on the mantle. "This will allow you three to share the penseive memories" she explained to James, Lily and Sirius.

"Right then" Harry breathed deeply, gathering courage. He spilled a silvery, swirling memory from a tiny crystal bottle into the penseive on the table. An image appeared in the blank canvas showing the torch lit room containing the Mirror of Erised. His parents and godfather walked into the canvas, and turned to wait for the rest to join them via the penseive.

The seven around the table leaned forward and entered the memory. Harry glanced around the room, and walked over to where his family from the paintings stood to one side, translucent and ghost-like. "I'm glad we can share this with you, Harry" his mum spoke softly. "I just wish we could touch you. I do miss not being able to hug and hold you." James nodded in agreement, and Harry felt himself tearing up.

The group watched a very young Harry talking with Quirrell and the parasitic Riddle in the back of the teacher's head. Hermione grasped her fiancée's hand, shuddering at the horror Voldemort had become. At one point Sirius turned into his dog animagus form and boldly walked over to the posessed professor to smell and sniff around. As the young past-image Harry passed out on the stone steps of the dungeon room, the memory ended and they returned.

Everyone sat around the table or stood in the paintings on the wall, stunned and silent for a moment. Harry felt slightly annoyed at the looks of admiration he was getting. Luna broke the silence asking "what happened after you passed out, Harry?"

"Er, Quirrell died from my touch, and Dumbledore conveniently found me.

"Dumbledore knew this was going on, I take it?" James glared darkly from his canvas.

Neville spoke up, sighing slightly. "Yes – I was eavesdropping on his thoughts one day when the headmaster was thinking back about Harry's first year. He wasn't aware that Riddle had a body already – he was hoping Harry would let him get the stone long enough to get a body so Dumbledore could be the hero and kill him."

The people in the room hissed and glared in the direction of the 'telly'. Remus rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "How did Riddle end up a parasite?"

Harry looked over respectfully at Griphook, who nodded at him. "If I may" the goblin spoke, "we have been researching this too. Between Harry and his companions' listening in on Mr. Dumbledore's thoughts and what we have uncovered, we have a rough idea of what the Dark Lord had been doing."

"What an awful stench he had" Sirius wrinkled his nose in disgust. "I gave him a good sniffing over as Padfoot to see if that could tell us something more. Ugh – nothing other than the smell of decay and unicorn blood."

Poor Dobby trembled, but bravely sat (practically in Harry's lap). He wasn't sure why he was part of this group of great wizards, but his master had insisted. What could a lowly house-elf ever do against the powerful You-Know-Who?

Griphook continued. "Mr. Riddle was obsessed with immortality even as a student here at Hogwarts. He had turned dark long before graduation. At some time, before leaving school, he had preformed the ritual the ancients called "the soul liberator". Lily gasped from her painting – she had heard of this.

The goblin nodded at her, impressed that she obviously knew what it was. "The soul liberator is extremely dark – there is no 'good' use of this magic. As you all know, when a being dies, they typically pass on to what we call the 'beyond'. If a being was very unhappy, fearful, or has unfinished work on this earth, they can choose to come back as a ghost. And, as you are aware, in unique cases a soul can inhabit other objects or places – yourselves for instance" and he gestured respectfully to the paintings, "but other's must place the soul in these objects. Mr. Riddle's ritual gave his soul the independent power of choice – to go where he chose and inhabit whatever he wished."

Everyone in the room gasped and paled at the thought. "What are the soul's limitations?" Hermione asked weakly, feeling more than a little nauseated at the thought of what Riddle had done with his own spiritual essence.

"The soul can not be out of a 'container', for lack of a better word, for very long, before it finally fades to the beyond." Griphook shook his head in distaste before continuing. "We all agree that Mr. Riddle probably spent his 14 years between his first 'death' and your first year, Harry, inhabiting snakes, animals, and occasional muggles. He was waiting for his followers to find him and restore him to a permanent body."

"Why not stay in snakes or muggles?" Sirius asked.

"It is only temporary – the soul eats up the host at an alarming rate – rather like organ rejection in muggle surgery. There must be another body or host close by. The body he had created two years ago was permanent because it was built from his father's remains, thus giving him a compatible anchor."

"Why didn't he just inhabit a painting, like James is?" Remus asked, puzzled.

"It must be a living host" Lily looked sickened as she spoke, "or the soul is 'stuck' in that form. Riddle would want to move his soul to a body he could stay in so he can conquer."

Harry siphoned the memory out of the penseive with his wand, and poured the next one in. "This is the Chamber of Secrets. I'm not bothering with the whole memory – just the parts where I'm actually talking with Riddle."

Again the group entered – seven flesh and blood, and three ghost-like. They watched the tiny, undersized boy talking with the swiftly solidifying Tom Riddle. Lily and Hermione kept looking over at the carcass of the freshly killed basilisk, trembling with relief over Harry's victory.

Once again the group left the memory and discussed what they had observed. "This explains a lot" Lily finally spoke, "and it's very encouraging."

"Er – how so?" Harry gaped at his mother's portrait, and most of the room echoed his expression.

His mother gave a grim smile. "Young Tom had made what they call a horcrux. Again – it's very dark magic, with no light application. He actually split off part of his soul and placed it in that diary. But contrary to rumor, it can only be done once. When Harry destroyed that diary, it left only a partial soul, which is always diseased and tainted. The Riddle you are fighting now is weaker because of it."

The rest of the time went the same – the group visiting the tragic memory of the graveyard at Little Hangleton, and then discussing every fact they had gleaned from Dumbledore. After hours, with several breaks for food and fresh air, they wound the meeting down.

"So in conclusion, what are Riddle's true strengths? What do we have to overcome to kill him for once and all?" Harry looked around the room at each of them.

"Mr. Riddle does possess an extremely strong magical core. He is truly a powerful wizard. Splitting his soul has not diminished his raw power in the least, nor has it increased it." Griphook commented dryly.

"Evidence indicates he has probably performed rituals that have increased his resistance to magical attacks" Luna added. "If his soul is not as damaged as we suspect, he will be able to inhabit new bodies again after death." Everyone nodded in agreement.

"He is highly intelligent with no moral 'brakes' to stop him from doing anything to achieve his goals" Lily joined in sadly.

"He appears to have the ability to talk with demons and consort with dark beings, giving him access to a potentially huge army." Remus concluded.

"So" Harry summed up. "We have an extremely powerful, highly shielded, smart wizard that has no moral compass, who might have joined up with demons from another dimension. It's our job to kill his body and force his soul to the beyond."

The group all gave a final toast with butterbeer to the final defeat of Riddle before ending the meeting.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

"No, Albus – I refuse." Minerva McGonagall eyed the headmaster with a steely glare.

"Minerva" the aging wizard glared back, "you forget who your headmaster and your leader of the Order of the Phoenix is." 'How can she refuse? What happened to her submissiveness? The charms on her desk are still in place…'

"I haven't forgotten, Albus" she stiffly replied, lips pressed in a thin line. "Perhaps your duty to your students has slipped your mind? I absolutely refuse to get involved with Mr. Potter's personal life. It's bad enough you insist on sending him back to those awful Dursleys every summer. I will not tell him whom he can and can not date or befriend."

The supreme mugwump leaned back in his seat, trying a different tactic. "But Minerva" he twinkled at her in his most grandfatherly of attitudes, "you know I only want what's for the greater good."

"No, and that's my final word, Albus". The transfiguration professor stood and walked to the door to pointedly show him out.

With a forced sign that told the world "too bad you don't see the big picture", Dumbledore got up and left her office. He paused in the hallway, pondering what he could do to place his Boy-Who-Lived closer to willing spies, to insure his compliance. Above his head, near the ceiling, Albus thought he heard a small grunt, but ignored it as probably Peeves. But with a 'thunk', a rock hit him in the head, and he staggered, seeing lights that were not eye twinkles.

"Waaaaa?" Rubbing his scalp under his hat and looking up with fury, the headmaster's jaw dropped open. One of the stone gargoyles that topped many of the columns lining the halls just finished relieving himself. Albus had been the unlucky landing pad for a stone gargoyle poop.

And so the rest of the day went for poor Albus Dumbledore. If he paused for only a moment anywhere near a gargoyle (of which there were many in the castle), he would find himself the target for a granite bowel movement. And if being pelted with rocky excrement wasn't bad enough, the gargoyles were most vocal and creative about what they were doing. Oh – they didn't speak in words – very creative terms for what they were doing would appear in sparkly letters, floating through the air.

"Dropping the kids off at the pool. Making logs. Drop a garden gnome. Riding the doo-doo choo-choo. And most insulting of all – 'taking a Dumbledore'." The supreme mugwump stormed to his office to hide until the hexing wore off.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

"Hermione?"

"Mmmmm?" the bushy-haired witch mumbled with a mouth full of popcorn. The two of them were snuggled on the couch in Godric's Suitcase, watching the 'telly'. Dumbledore was removing a rather ugly tasseled hat and replacing it with a rather ugly ice bag to soothe a rather ugly bruise. They had heard about the headmaster's day being pelted with rock gargoyle offal.

"You did such a super job with what to do with the Death Eaters. Want another project to work on?" Harry gave her a kiss on the cheek and smiled as cheesily as he could.

"Sure – homework is too easy with time slowing" she smiled, returning the kiss.

"We need to learn about the death mark that Riddle gives his Death Eaters. Does it do anything besides act as a portkey and call to meeting. Can it be removed? I'm worried about Professor Snape. Double Agents don't have a very long life expectancy. His life insurance premium must be killer."

Harry closed his eyes and followed the path through his scar to Tom's head. It was 11 a.m., so naturally the dark Lord was fast asleep. Harry started whispering suggestions to him, with the lightest and most subtle of touches. He didn't want any chance that Riddle would catch on, but he wanted to start to influence him into total and complete trust of the Hogwarts potion master.

Luna stood in back of the couch gathering her school books from the table. She glanced over at the telly, watching the headmaster wince as he moved the ice bag around his head. Sending a telepathic thank you to Hogwarts for her help with the gargoyles, she softly whispered "mischief managed" before popping out of the trunk.

Thanks to Treck, MadienSirius, Shawn Pickett, Hermione Green, Samanth 0, Bloodless Ace, Legessa, ThunderGod, DragoFlare 4000, tib, sadfru, buzzliteyear, jabarber69, Korval, anti-thule, Ophiuchus, LMDGlUVR4EVA, Talon05, DougR, Xyverz, DragonFoxx, chickflickgrl82, MrE230, Geeklove13, Tanned Snapette, scubakat for your gross suggestions!