Ron disappeared to the stairs; Harry remained in the kitchen, the stack of letters seemingly looming over him. He reached a hand across the table and plucked one from the pile. He skimmed it over quickly, and then reached for another, and another. He grabbed a handful of the letters and turned to the stairs but stopped on the second step. A door opened on a floor and the scent of flowers gently fluttered down to him. Knowing who it was and why the door had opened, Harry quickly leapt of the step, darted into the kitchen, and shot out of the door. Harry sprinted away from the Burrow until he was a fair distance from the house.

"Kreacher", he called, panting slightly. A second later the well known CRACK announced his arrival.

"Master Harry!" exclaimed Kreacher, bowing low, "You're back!"

"Yeah, we got back last night, sorry I didn't call, I fell asleep pretty much as soon as we landed."

"No need to apologise Master Harry," Kreacher assured him, "would you like me to bring you anything?"

"Actually yes please," Harry handed Kreacher the letters he'd taken from the dining table. "Those letters are from Kingsley Shacklebolt, I need you to return them to him and tell him," Harry paused, thinking. "Ask him to meet me at," he paused here, unsure of where to meet. The Ministry itself would be ridiculous - no doubt reporters from the Daily Prophet would be there, and the hordes of wizards and witches that would be flocking to it would make it a highly daunting task to manoeuvre around without been seen or harassed, even in an invisibility cloak - Grimmauld Place was another option, but Harry was unsure how many Death Eaters Yaxley could have brought into its protection, and not every Death Eater had been captured. Harry sighed, thinking wildly and found the perfect place jump into his head. He told Kreacher where Kingsley could find him and asked Kreacher to pass on the message.

Kreacher fingered the locket on his chest, "As you wish Master Harry," he replied and dissapparated after another bow. Harry turned back to the Burrow, and saw Ron sprinting toward him, with no broomstick in his hand.

"You all right mate?" breathed Ron when he was finally in talking distance. Harry nodded and quickly explained to him why he was going and where. Ron stared at him queerly, but clutched his arm as Harry twisted on the spot taking them to a place he hadn't been to in seven years.

The sharp twang of sea air and the caw of the seagulls surrounded them. In the distance they could make out the shoreline that was separated from them by the blue-grey sea. They stood on a rocky outcrop of rock, upon which a ram shackle hut stood. Harry headed towards the huge door, amazed it was still standing after the weather beaten years. Inside, however, was a different story. The floor that Harry had once been forced to try sleep on was now littered with rubble from what looked like a caved in ceiling, however the fireplace that Hagrid had brought to life with a few packet of crisps and his pink umbrella, still stood, though it was only barely recognisable.

"You stayed here!" Ron wondered, looking around in amazement.

"Yeah," Harry muttered, louder he said, "The Dursley's were trying to throw Dumbledore off from where I was, so I couldn't get my letter from Hogwarts and didn't find out I was a wizard." The memory of Hagrid battering down the door in the dead of night crept up on Harry, making him smile. "They found us obviously." Harry looked around at the hut feeling a mix of fondness and trepidation for the place. "This was where I found out I was a wizard, where I met Hagrid for the first time, what really happened to my parents, and where Dudley got his pigtail."

Ron snorted with laughter. Harry withdrew his wand and conjured several chairs. Ron took a seat and gazed peculiarly around the shambled hut. Harry also took a chair and permitted himself to look back on the memories of the last night he had been here.

Kreacher then appeared, accompanied by his usual cracking sound.

"Master Harry!" Kreacher called, hurrying towards them and standing near the fire. "Kreacher found Kingsley at the Ministry and Kingsley is anxious to meet with you. He will be here presently, but he warns that he will have to bring some protection with him."

"That's fine Kreacher," replied Harry, who had already suspected Kingsley could not come alone - and gestured for Kreacher to take a seat, to which Kreacher did. Kreacher had barely sat in his chair, than the swish of cloaks announced the arrival of several wizards. Harry and Ron leapt from their seats and hurried outside to see Kingsley in deep purple robes with a scar that traversed from his ear lobe to his collarbone. He was accompanied by three wizards in dark grey robes.

"Harry!" boomed Kingsley, stretching out his hand to him. Harry took it and as Kingsley shook Ron's hands, Harry stared at Kingsley's companions. They hadn't moved from the spot, and they made no attempt to follow the four of them inside the hut.

"It's going to take at least a year for this to calm down," Kingsley said, scratching his chin as he settled into a chair. "The first thing to be done is to tear down those horrific laws that were passed when Thicknesse was in power: Muggle-born registry, imprisonment sentences, giving Ministry officials needless power, I could go on. Concurrently, we're going to be releasing those from Azkaban have no need to be there. Practically all of them were released within the 24hours of Voldemort's death, but, I fear, some may remain. We also have to notify everyone who is in hiding about his demise and urge them to come forward if they have any information on anything that may help us track down those who supported Voldemort or his followers." Kingsley sighed wearily. "It also does not help that half of the Ministry staff is detained as they themselves are to be sentenced for multiple..." he trailed off, and stared sadly at the floor. "Right now, the majority of high ranking Ministry officials are in detainment, including Dolores Umbridge." Harry and Ron, outwardly sighed with relief. "It seems unlikely that their trials will find them innocent and no deals are to be made. But the crux of the matter is that people are going to want to talk to The Boy Who Lived and know everything about what happened between you and Voldemort." Harry met the gaze of Ron and he could see in his eyes the horror he felt. He could not tell anyone the truth.

"We understand that not all aspects of this can be shared with the general community," Kingsley began carefully. "There are many rumours circulation the Wizarding community at the moment and if any of them are true, it is best they remain well hidden." At this Kingsley turned directly to Harry. "I ask you this, though I feel as though I know your answer - should the public be told the truth?"

"No." The 'no' was firm and with no hesitancy.

"May I ask why."

"There was a reason Dumbledore kept the mission a secret." Ron nodded, looking vaguely sick. "If anyone knew the depths of what Voldemort had done, it would cause havoc later." Kingsley nodded.

"I doubt any rumours circulating are true; if you feel one fits well enough to collaborate your story, feel free to select it, or if you think of a story better then choose that. Within the next week, I will ask each of you to make a statement. You can do it together or separately, but your stories need to be in sync."

Kingsley stood up, nodded to them and left the hut.

Ron turned to Harry.

"Between cleaning up the mess they left us and searching for," he mouthed horcruxes, "I think i'd rather the searching."

Harry grimaced in reply and turned to Kreacher.

"Kreacher, could you go to the Burrow and help Mrs Weasley with the house? We'll probably be staying there for a little while." Kreacher nodded and disapparated as Harry strode outside. Kingsley and his entourage were gone. "Now what?" he asked, mainly to himself.

Ron laughed heartily and thumped him on the back.

"Whatever you want mate."