Harry Potter and the Power of the Past
Disclaimer: All JKR's, not mine.
Summary: This is a complete AU- Harry Potter is a 21-year-old wizard, who's on top of the world. He's rich, in love, and loved by all, but his life is turned upside down as a spiral of events leads to the ultimate battle between good and evil. Can Harry lead the fight for the light, but yet manage to keep his life together?
A/N: Thanks for the reviews everybody. Oh, and review again!
S/N: Well, this is it, the last chapter. There will also be an epilogue that will have jumps in time throughout, giving brief glimpses of the next twenty years of Harry's life.
S/N 2: I want to say thank you to all of you who have reviewed, especially the constant reviewers. They meant a lot to me, and I appreciated the feedback, good or bad. It really helped me improve my writing, much more so than anything else. This chapter should tie up any and all outstanding storylines, and in fact, as I was writing this chapter, I realized how many storylines I actually had to drop or else this story would have gone on for another twenty chapters, so you'll see hints of storylines that didn't make it into the final story.
Chapter 41: Nothing Ever Dies, We Will Rise Again
Seven days had passed since Voldemort's defeat, and over that time, the Order of the Phoenix tended to the injuries that their members had sustained, as well as attended the funerals of all those who had died in the battle. The causalities that the Order had suffered were great: Fred Weasley was a living shell of his former self; Bill Weasley was permanently disfigured and now had wolfish tendencies, such as a preference for raw meat, though according to Remus, he fortunately would not become a werewolf; after being hit with a Conjunctivitis Curse, Rubeus Hagrid had lost his left eye during his duel with Macnair, and now wore a glass eye similar to Mad-Eye Moody that allowed him to regain his vision; Terry Boot had lost his right ear to a curse that prevented the healers from reattaching it; Kylie had been so affected by the venom of Nagini that his hand now had a purplish tint to it that was permanent, though he was okay other than that; Despereaux Barnaud had a large scar across his chest that he received from his aunt Bellatrix Lestrange that was still tender to the touch; Lilyre Moon had broken both his legs, but luckily, the healers were able to restore his legs without any lasting effects; and finally, Elphias Doge and Sturgis Podmore had both lost their lives to the Killing Curse during the battle.
While the funerals and remembrances were going on for the Aurors, Hit Wizards, Ministry Officials, and Order Members, the Ministry of Magic was hunting down whatever Death Eater they could find. Many were caught within the week, but in light of the fact that so many Aurors and Hit Wizards and other Ministry Officials had lost their lives at the Hogwarts battle, no Death Eater had been tried just yet. Instead of being brought to Azkaban like they normally would have been, they were kept in the holding cells of the Ministry, giving them a temporary reprieve from the darkness of the famed wizarding prison. It wasn't until the Monday after the Battle of Hogwarts and after the Ministry had taken care of the disloyal dementors who had joined Voldemort did the trials for the Death Eaters begin.
On one of the trial days, the Hit Wizard Harry Potter was walking into courtroom number ten with his crimson robes flailing in the wind for the trial of one, Pansy Parkinson. Parkinson was charged with conspiring to commit crimes against the Ministry, for using the Unforgivables, and for aiding the Dark Lord in his conspiracy against the Ministry of Magic. After the charges were read to the visibly shaken Parkinson, who had short black hair, black eyes, and was unnaturally thin looking, she started breathing heavily, clearly frightened by the ordeal.
"What do you have to say for yourself? Or are we waiting on someone to speak on your behalf?" The Minister of Magic, Amelia Bones belted, staring down at the younger witch from her perch atop the long bench. The forty-nine other members of the Wizengamot all wore their plumb colored-robes and sat on a long bench around the Minister, with Bones acting as the Chief Warlock for the proceedings, the one member who was in charge of the Wizengamot. "Perhaps a solicitor or confidant that is familiar with your case?" Bones questioned, welcoming the chance for someone to speak for Pansy. It was customary to allow defendants to have someone speak on their behalf, though it wasn't a protected right by any means and could be suspended if the Wizengamot saw fit to suspend it.
"Draco….said….he would be coming on….my behalf." Pansy stuttered out, now nearly sobbing. Her black eyes moved all around the Wizengamot, rolling over every single member before they rested on the Minister.
"Very well," Minister Bones nodded, just as the doors in the back swung open and revealed Draco Malfoy. The blond haired wizard strolled up to the front of the room, his gray eyes locked in steely concentration. He quietly took a seat in the wooden chair next to Pansy, not even giving her a sideways glance, instead focusing on the Wizengamot in front of him. "Mr. Malfoy, we understand that you have something to say in the defense of Miss Parkinson, is that correct?"
"That is correct, Madam Minister." Draco Malfoy said, rising from his seat and walking up closer to the long bench. From his spot behind Gawain Robards, Harry flinched at the appearance of Draco, his green gaze zeroing in on the blond haired wizard, wishing that he knew what Draco was going to say before he said it. "I have proof that Pansy Parkinson is innocent. I witnessed the night that she was attacked and cursed with the Unforgiveable Imperious Curse, and I am witness to the fact that everything she did as a Death Eater after that night was against her will."
"And what proof is that?" Rufus Scrimgeour questioned, scowling deeply, overcome with frustration. After what he had gone through, he had no mercy for anyone who was a Death Eater, and, if he was in charge, he would send them straight to Azkaban without even hearing them out.
"I was there when it happened, her being cursed I mean—I managed to escape, but Pansy wasn't as lucky as I was. I am more than willing to subject myself to whatever means necessary in order to prove the truthfulness of my testimony." Draco answered, staring straight at Scrimgeour, lying right to his face. For the first time, his eyes flicked over to Pansy, who was looking back over to him, her hands and feet still clasped tightly in the chair. "I tried to find her, to help her, but the Death Eaters hid her away from me, unfortunately, which prevented me from doing anything."
"Why did you not come forward before this time?" A witch questioned from the far end of the bench, seeing a small crack in his story that perhaps would lead to a complete unraveling.
"I was scared," Draco replied simply, looking down at the ground in faux embarrassment, dodging the question stupendously. After all, who would question someone who was willingly admitting something as embarrassing as that? "I'm not proud of it, but it is what it is. I heard that the Death Eaters wanted my family to die, so I hid away and waited until the Ministry came out triumphantly in their struggle against the dark forces, all the while hoping that Pansy would be okay. Plus, and this I'm ashamed to admit but I will say it because it's the truth, I was also wary of going to the Ministry during those times because my father told me stories of how Augustus Rookwood betrayed the Ministry during the first war—I was fearful that the Death Eaters had infiltrated the Ministry like last time, though now I see that the Ministry is as powerful and as noble as ever. I was cowardly in my actions, and for that I am truly, deeply sorry, but Pansy should not be punished for my inaction."
"Very well, Mr. Malfoy," The Minister said, shuffling around a few pages of parchment in front of her. "We will take your testimony into account and keep it in our minds when we make our final judgment. We would also like to say thank you for your generous donation to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry that you gave two days ago, it will surely help countless of students afford books and grant them the ability to attend school, as well as helping in the reconstruction of one of the towers that was destroyed in the battle."
"In addition to that, I would like also to announce that I am making another donation to St. Mungo's Hospital for a sum total of one thousand galleons, with the hopes that they will be able to use that money to heal all those people who were injured in the righteous fight against the Dark Lord." Draco proclaimed, giving them all a large, charming smile. There was a loud round of applause in response, some coming from the Wizengamot, but most from the spectators behind Draco, who were smitten by his generosity. Harry rolled his eyes, but had to admit that he was impressed with Draco's ability to manipulate people—a trait he surely inherited from his father. "Thank you for your time." Draco turned and, after giving one last look to Pansy, he walked out of the court room.
Harry quietly excused himself, and ran outside into the hallway to catch Draco before the wizard left. "Malfoy!" He yelled, and the other wizard paused in response, but did not turn around. "You put me in a difficult position with that stunt of yours. I am a man of my word, and I promised that your name would not be brought up in the Death Eater trials, but if you do that one more time, the deal is off and I will tell everyone the truth about your history with the Death Eaters."
"Don't worry, I won't." Draco replied, still keeping his back to Harry. "You think I care about anyone else? Crabbe? Goyle? Cornfoot? Flint? Montague? They can all rot in Azkaban, for all I care. Pansy didn't deserve that, though—I was the one who got her into this. She might have been mean to you in Hogwarts, maybe even seemed like she cared about blood purity, but she didn't: she did all those things because she wanted to impress me, she thought I wanted her to act like that."
"I see," Harry whispered, having never known about Draco's feelings for the girl. Without saying another word, Harry returned to the courtroom and stood in the back of the room as the Wizengamot decided if Pansy was guilty or innocent. In an almost overwhelming majority, they deemed that Pansy was innocent and free to go, a decision that mad Harry a little bit angry, though he knew it wasn't worth doing anything about it due to the bad recognition that he would get if Malfoy revealed that Harry had made a deal with a Death Eater. Plus, Pansy wasn't that good of a witch to begin with, and he seriously doubted that she could cast any of the Unforgivables, let alone use them successfully against innocent people.
Pansy was soon released, and everyone filed out of the courtroom for the day, with Harry returning to his home soon after. Tonks was out with her mother, so after saying hello to Zeali, he quietly made his way up to his workshop and took a seat at his stool. He pulled out the golden Slytherin locket, which was burned to the point it was almost destroyed, and began to poke at it with the Elder Wand. He wanted to fix it as best as he could, though he had no idea if he would be able to. He knew that he would never be able to replicate the magic that Slytherin had charmed into it because he had no idea what spells were originally used a thousand years ago, but he could sure as well try, at least.
"I'm home!" Tonks' voice called out through the halls an hour later, alerting both Zeali and Harry of her presence.
"I'm up here," Harry yelled back, not looking up from the locket. He had made a little progress over the time working on the locket, albeit even the progress he made was almost unnoticeable due to the amount of damage that the artifact had sustained.
"Harry," Tonks said, coming to the door. Her hair was a dull maroon, and her eyes were their normal color, which was a rare treat for Harry. "I know things have been so busy lately, but…can we talk? I want to ask you something."
"Sure," Harry nodded, turning his attention from his work desk to his wife.
"What happened? I mean, when you were…when you were unconscious," She started, not daring to say dead, she couldn't bear even the idea of Harry dying. "What happened?" She inquired, referencing the night of the Battle of Hogwarts.
"It was like I was asleep," Harry remembered, thinking back to the feeling that he had encountered after he was hit with the Killing Curse. "And I met a friend."
"Who?" Tonks questioned, interested in who it was. Was it someone that she knew? It couldn't have been his father or mother, could it? Was the person dead or alive? Was it a spirit that he met? A thousand questions ran through her mind, though she knew she wouldn't get answers to all of them.
"Just a friend," Harry replied, not wanting to go any deeper than that just yet.
"Oh," Tonks nodded, understanding that Harry wasn't ready to talk about it. Her eyes flicked down to the wand in his hands, and she bit her lip, another thought coming to her mind. "About the Elder Wand, since you were hit with a Killing Curse, shouldn't you have lost its allegiance, and it therefore shouldn't have worked for you, right? Isn't that how it's supposed to work?"
"No," Harry shook his head in the negative. "I wasn't fighting back before then, hence there was no contest, and hence there was no defeat." Harry answered, simply, having previously gone through it in his own mind before he prepared for his battle against Voldemort—he was prepared, more prepared for that fight than he had ever been. Before he was hit with the Killing Curse, he was simply stalling, buying time; he wasn't actually trying to defeat Voldemort. Because of that, he was able to keep the allegiance of the wand, instead of losing it like what would normally have happened if had been truly fighting back.
"Well, if that's the case, then don't you think that now that Voldemort is gone, you should, I don't know, keep that wand locked away?" She said, getting to what she really wanted to talk about. She didn't want people to come after Harry to try and get the Elder Wand; she didn't want to fend off daily attacks all because Harry had the supreme wand of the land. "After all, if you die a natural death in a hundred fifty years, wouldn't it prevent anyone from using it ever again? Its power would be broken, wouldn't it? You wouldn't have been beaten in a duel, after all."
"No," Harry said, shaking his head impressed with what Tonks knew about wandlore. "I never understood that concept: that the wand's power dies if its owner dies naturally. How would that make any sense? Antioch Peverell, the original owner of the wand, was never beaten in a duel, was he? No, he was killed in his sleep: there was no contest. Ownership of the wand should have never transferred in the first place; it should have been destroyed right then and there. But ownership did transfer, and continued to transfer all the way up to and including myself. I reckon that, even if I'm never defeated, and the wand is inherited, the wand will grow over time into a new owner if someone else physically possesses the wand, meaning regardless of what I do with it, someone else will eventually become the owner of the full power of the wand."
"If you say so," Tonks nodded, bowing to Harry's knowledge on the subject. "What about your other wand? We have to get you a new one, don't we?" She questioned, her eyes flicking down to the piece of black wood that was sitting on the workbench. There was a small crack in the center that would go unnoticed if one didn't previously know about it, but was definitely large enough to backfire on the wand holder if it was used to perform magic.
"Maybe," Harry shrugged, grabbing the Elder Wand. "Or, maybe not," He smiled, running the Elder Wand over his broken wand. "Reparo," He whispered, and in a flash, the crack in the wood closed, the wood went rigid once more, and his broken wand was repaired like new.
"What?" Tonks gasped, flabbergasted by what just happened. "How did you do that? I thought it was impossible to repair a wand when it's been broken."
"It's apparently not impossible if you have the Elder Wand in your possession to enhance your magic." Harry grinned, thrilled to have his normal wand back. He opened up the top drawer of his bench, and placed the Elder Wand back in its protection, right next to the Peverell Ring that held the Resurrection Stone, which rested in between Ravenclaw's Tiara and Hufflepuff's Goblet.
"What are you going to do with all of those?" Tonks inquired, quizzically, raising an eyebrow as she peeked an eye into the drawer.
"We'll give them to our children," Harry said, getting up from his stool and bringing his lips up to Tonks'.
Tonks enthusiastically kissed Harry back, a feeling of love overcoming her. They continued for a few moments, until Tonks pulled back and smiled up at her husband. "Oh, I meant to tell you, I found this out in the hallway." She chirped, running over to the couch in the library, where she picked up a small box and brought it back over to Harry in the workshop. "Do you know what this is?"
"I forgot all about that!" Harry exclaimed, remembering the package that Grindelwald had sent him before his fight with Voldemort. He took the box from her hands and pulled out the piece of white parchment with the golden boarder. He looked down at the parchment, knowing exactly what it was, but not knowing what he was going to do with it: he could use it or he could throw it away. "I guess I owe him," He whispered, seemingly coming to a conclusion as he picked up his newly fixed wand.
"Owe who, what?" Tonks asked, slightly confused by not only what Harry meant, but what it was in the first place.
"You don't want to know," Harry grinned, looking up at his wife. "Grindelwald."
Tonks cocked an eyebrow but stayed silent, which surprised Harry a bit, having expected some sort of response from his wife. "You have fun with that, meanwhile I'm going to take a shower and get changed," She replied, turning around and walking out of the library, leaving Harry alone to his own devices.
"Where is a good spot?" He muttered, before he found a spot near the small shelf of potions that he kept in his main workroom, rather than the potion room. He brought his wand up and ran it over the parchment, before sticking the parchment onto the wall. Then, Harry tapped the center of the parchment two times, and took a step back as the parchment grew and grew, transforming into a canvas with a golden frame. It expanded until it was about the size of a large pillow, and then colors began to appear on the canvas from out of nowhere, as if there was an invisible painter painting his masterpiece right then and there. The colors merged and converged until they showed an old man standing in front of a fire place that had a small, plush chair painted next to it. Harry could only see the old man's back, his grey hair coming down to the small of his back. "Hello, Gellert." He whispered once the portrait had completely formed.
"I take it you decided to keep my portrait, eh?" The old man said, his eastern European-accented voice carrying out from the frame. "And here I half expected you to destroy it."
"You played me, didn't you?" Harry questioned, though his voice did not show any form of unhappiness. "This was always what you wanted in the end, was it not?"
"Played, no, but I did have a plan—always did." Gellert replied, still keeping his back to Harry. Finally, he turned around, and smiled at the younger wizard as he walked forward in his portrait a bit: he appeared younger than when Harry had seen him last, apparently having settled for a younger appearance in his portrait when it was painted.
"Well," Harry answered, honestly. "I don't have very many portraits in my house, only your ancestor's, so you'll be quite lonely when your ancestor is in his Hogwarts portrait."
"Its fine, all that I wanted at the end of my life was to experience life as a portrait when my mortal body was gone." Gellert nodded, telling Harry the honest truth. "Did you defeat Voldemort yet?"
"Yup," Harry beamed, so happy to finally have overcome his lifelong enemy. He had been so busy grieving and honoring his fallen friends over the past week that he didn't have the time to just stop and reflect on Voldemort's defeat, which was something he planned on doing soon.
"Good, good." Gellert nodded again, though Harry could tell he was a bit indifferent about it all, which was to be expected, being that he had flat out told Harry he was only helping him due to Dumbledore's death.
"It was all because of the Elder Wand." Harry noted, finally admitting to Grindelwald that he had the Elder Wand.
Gellert's eyes shot to Harry, wide with a mix of confusion, jealousy, and doubt. "You had it?" He exclaimed, keeping an air of skepticism around him, not knowing if the younger wizard was telling the truth or not.
"Yes, and I want to thank you for lying to Voldemort when he came looking for the wand." Harry replied, a large smile on his face, somewhat toying with Grindelwald. "I know you did it to protect Dumbledore's grave, but still, it helped me as well."
Gellert stared at Harry for a few seconds more, seemingly trying to find something in Harry's green eyes. "You have them all, don't you?" He whispered, apparently finding what it was that he was searching for in Harry's soul.
"Yes," Harry simply said, giving Gellert a slight nod. "Your portrait is in my workshop, and if anyone asks, you're not Gellert Grindelwald, got it?"
"I understand," Gellert said, taking a seat in his chair, looking as if someone had shot him in the chest. He sat silently for a few moments before suddenly, a smile started to creep onto his face and then he cried out into laughter, making Harry cock an eyebrow up to him. "It was my lifelong dream to unite the three Deathly Hallows, and now here I am, hanging up on the wall of the man who has done it, accomplishing something that I never could."
The next day, Harry found himself in the courtroom number ten once more. Like during the trials of the previous day, he was standing up behind the Wizengamot, specifically behind Gawain Robards, who was wearing the distinct plum robes of the Wizengamot. A few Aurors stood next to him, there to make sure that the Wizengamot were protected from any threat they might face: whether it be from a family member of the accused and convicted or even the convicted themselves. Just then, Rabastan Lestrange was dragged in by the dementors that then handed him over to two Aurors, who locked him into a wooden chair in front of the bench.
"Rabastan Lestrange, you have waived your right to be represented, is that correct?" Minister Bones said, and after seeing the man's nod, she continued on. "You have been brought before us for your continued following of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and your previous escape from Azkaban Prison, in which you were imprisoned for your unspeakable crimes against Frank and Alice Longbottom." Minister Bones said, looking down at Rabastan. "What do you have to stay for yourself?"
Rabastan stared at the ground, before looking up, his eyes showing despair. "I always thought the most important thing in life was to honor the family, to live up to the expectations that your father and family have for you. I was wrong; my whole life I've been wrong, and it's entirely my fault. I should have stayed in France with my wife, and most importantly, with my son." He moved his gaze over the Wizengamot, meeting Harry's gaze for a moment before returning back to the Minister. "The Dementor's Kiss is not punishment enough for what I have done. Send me to Azkaban, away from my son, that'll be more punishing than losing my soul could ever be. Knowing that I failed the only people that I ever cared about, that is my true punishment, no matter what you decide my fate will be."
Harry leaned down, and whispered into Gawain Robards' ear, something that he had promised Neville and Despereaux that he would do. The older man nodded, leaned behind Rufus Scrimgeour, and whispered over to Minister Bones, who paused to think over what she had heard. "Right," She nodded, understanding the situation. "I have recent information that you caught a few of your former comrades, is that correct? Furthermore, you have saved one, Neville Longbottom's life, on more than one occasion?"
"I guess so." Rabastan shrugged, not knowing what to make of this development.
"Well," Minister Bones said, slowly, trying to properly articulate what she was thinking. "I will take that into consideration, but because you have been previously convicted, I do not know how much weight that your deeds will have on this process. Those who are in favor of a guilty verdict, please raise your hands?" Out of the fifty Wizengamot members, nine of which were the jurors of the day, all of the members raised their hands, including the nine of the jurors.
In order to prevent corruption, the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot chose nine of the members to be jurors, though no one but the Chief Warlock knew who the nine of the trial were until after the trial itself. Only in the rarest of circumstances, where the non-jury Wizengamot members vote differently than the nine members does the Chief Warlock release the information about the jurors and take into account the entire Wizengamot's opinion. "A guilty verdict has been handed down on you, Mr. Lestrange. With the power of the Wizengamot, your sentence of life in Azkaban is reinstated, Rabastan Lestrange, effective immediately."
At once, the dementors that were loyal to the Ministry flew back in, unlocked the wooden chair and began to drag Rabastan back out. As he was leaving, his eyes saw his wife, Solange, and his son, Despereaux, each sitting in one of the back rows, both watching sadly as he was pulled away. He gave them a small smile, hoping that they would forgive him sooner or later, before he was dragged through the doors and out of the room. Once he was gone, Solange let out a solitary tear, wondering what could have been.
"We now call Quirinus Quirrell," Minister Bones yelled, gesturing for the Aurors to notify the dementors to bring in the next prisoner. Before long, Quirrell was dragged in and slammed into the wooden chair, locked in place. "Is anyone coming to speak on your behalf, Mr. Quirrell?" Quirrell stayed silent, instead just staring up at the Wizengamot with blank, unemotional eyes. "Let the record show that Mr. Quirrell's silence is an answer of negative, and that we shall move on." Harry's gaze moved over to the scribe, Devan Fenwick, son of Benjy Fenwick, a former member of the Order of the Phoenix who died during the first war, who was scribbling down hurriedly everything that the Minister said. "As a top Death Eater, what can you tell us about the whereabouts of one, Barty Crouch, Jr.?"
Quirrell continued his silence, instead just staring up at Bones with his dead eyes. Slowly, his gaze moved to her right, where it landed on Rufus Scrimgeour, and he smiled, which unnerved even Harry. "You won't find Barty; he was in charge of infiltrating the Ministry. As such, he has Polyjuice Potions that will last him for years, and if you haven't caught him yet, he's already gotten to his secret stash of supplies; he could be anywhere by now, anyone by now. He could even be one of you right now, you'll never know, he was good at what he did."
"Is there anything else that you have to say?" Minister Bones questioned, not wanting Quirrell to keep talking about Crouch and fluster the audience. Quirrell stayed silent, but continued to stare at Rufus Scrimgeour with a wide, eerie smile. "Very well, we will start the vote. All of those in favor of an innocent judgement raise your hand." Bones looked around, seeing that no one raised their hands, which didn't surprise her much. "And all in favor of a guilty judgment raise your hand." The exact opposite happened this time: the entire bench raised their hands.
"You have been judged guilty, Mr. Quirrell. Because you have been sentenced to Azkaban once before, you are eligible to receive the dementors' kiss. All of those in favor of such a punishment raise your hand." Only one hand shot up, and it was none other than Rufus Scrimgeour, who was staring straight back at Quirrell with anger in his eyes. "And all those in favor of life in Azkaban, will you please raise your hand?" Every hand but one went into the air, the sole individual dissenter being Scrimgeour, who had already voted. "You are hereby reinstated to your original sentence of life imprisonment within the confines of Azkaban prison, Quirinus Quirrell."
A few more minutes passed, before the final Death Eater that the Ministry had in their holding cells was brought in front of the Wizengamot. The dementors dragged in Stephen Cornfoot; the man was of medium height and had high cheekbones, a straight nose, a very pale complexion, dark hair, and gray eyes. As he sat in his chair, Rufus Scrimgeour growled at him, remembering that face from when he was kidnapped.
"Stephen Cornfoot," Minister Bones began, looking up from the parchment that was in front of her. "You have been accused of serving the Dark Lord Voldemort as a Death Eater, as well as abducting members of the wizarding society, including one Rufus Scrimgeour, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. How do you plead?"
"Guilty." Cornfoot said, immediately, not wanting to drag it out. "If you want names, I'll give you names, but just know that when the new darkness comes, we will all be here, waiting for them, willing to devote our services to the utter eradication of mudblood and muggle vermin."
Nearly all the members of the Wizengamot stared at Cornfoot with an uneasy look on their faces, clearly perturbed by what he had said. Harry stared down at Cornfoot as well, surprised by what his former Hogwarts rival said, never knowing that the man had this much darkness inside of him—though, perhaps since Cornfoot's best friend Zacharias Smith died in one of their Death Eater raids, he had been changed for the worse. "Very well," The Minister said, slowly, regaining her composure. "All those in favor of a guilty verdict, please raise your hand." Hands immediately popped up, and before long, the entire Wizengamot was raising their hands. "You have been found guilty, Stephen Cornfoot, and by the power invested in me by the Wizengamot, I sentence you to eighty years imprisonment for your crimes."
The rest of the week was spent wrangling up a few more Death Eaters and then giving them their trial and hearings. While some Death Eaters managed to talk their way out of punishment, a lot more were caught than the last time Voldemort fell. In fact, rather than just the ten Death Eaters that were found last time, the Ministry had imprisoned sixteen. Unfortunately, that still left nearly twenty that were not imprisoned. Of course, there were some that could not be found in that twenty, including both Barty Crouch, Jr. and Peter Pettigrew, but Harry had confidence that sooner or later, both of them would slip up and be found somewhere in the world.
A week later, it was Saturday, January 25th and Harry and Tonks were setting up for a party that they were hosting that day. The party was meant to honor all of those who had helped in beating Voldemort, as well as getting everyone they loved together for a moment of fun, enjoyment, and lightheartedness. Since it was winter and snowing outside, the party was inside their home—all of the curtains on the windows were taken down, allowing all of the guests to view the landscape and the ocean in the distance, as well as the beautiful snow that was falling down onto the cold ground from just about anywhere inside the house.
Viktor and Hermione were the first people to arrive, appearing in the first floor fireplace in a flash of green flames. "Hey, guys," Harry said, as he walked into the living room and saw the couple standing in front of the fire.
"Hi, Harry," Hermione smiled, her fingers intertwined with her husband's. "Do you need any help?" She questioned, wondering if she could be any help at all.
"No," Harry shook his head, knowing that he along with Zeali, Dobby, Andromeda, and Tonks, had already prepared everything that they needed. "We should be good. Tonks is in the kitchen, in case you're wondering." Hermione kissed Viktor and walked off, presumably to talk to Tonks. Before she was out of sight, however, Harry quickly rushed over to her, remembering that he had wanted to talk to her about something very important. "Hey, Hermione, before I forget, I want to thank you."
"Thank me for what?" Hermione cocked an eyebrow, turning around to face him.
"For talking to Lisa and getting her to understand that if I would have known something was going to happen, Roger would have never been able to join the Order." Seeing Hermione's confused face, he started to second guess himself. "It was you, wasn't it? I mean, she hated me, but now she's forgiven me while I didn't do anything."
"It was Viktor, not me." Hermione grinned, realizing what Harry had meant, before continuing on to the kitchen.
Harry stared over at Viktor, before he walked back over to his friend, a small smile lining his handsome face. "How are you?" He asked, questioning how his dear friend was about everything that had happened lately.
"I'm tired, very tired." Viktor sighed, falling back onto one of the couches. Over the past few months, he had been working three times as much as he normally would, which was draining to him, both mentally and physically, though he was more than happy to have done it if it helped Harry and his friends in any way possible.
"I bet," Harry agreed, wanting nothing more than to sleep for the next few weeks. "Do you want something to drink?"
"Not yet," Viktor replied as the flames erupted in the fireplace once more. He flicked his eyes over to who it was and gave a grin and a nod when he saw that it was Ted and Andromeda Tonks, Nymphadora's parents.
Before long, the house was flooded with people, all of whom were smiling and laughing, just happy to get together. Harry made his way around the house, trying to speak with everyone who was there, with Tonks doing the same as well. He welcomed Neville and his date, Sophie Roper, Neville apparently having taken Despereaux's advice and had become more serious with someone. He also saw Despereaux himself with his fingers intertwined with Tracey Davis, which made Harry happy for some reason.
"Harry," Sirius called out, gesturing for the Harry to come over when he saw the younger wizard come into view. There was a small group around Sirius, which included a few men and two women, one of whom was Emmeline Vance. "You remember Cepheus and Austrinus Nigel, don't you?" He questioned, looking over to his godson.
Three men stood next to Sirius, with Harry immediately recognizing two from their dinner they had months before. Cepheus was a moderately famous author, and was a man of medium height, with short black hair and gray eyes; Harry remembered when he and Cepheus had enjoyed a nice drink in the Leaky Cauldron just a month prior before the Christmas Holiday, a time that felt like years ago to Harry. Austrinus, meanwhile, was a tall and thick man that had gray eyes and dark brown hair, whom Harry had only met twice. "Of course," Harry smiled, shaking the wizards' hands. "And you must be another Nigel, no?" Harry asked, with his eyes flicking over to a tall wizard that was next to Austrinus, who looked very similar to the Austrinus, his brother.
"Must be," The man grinned; shaking Harry's hand as a woman with long black hair came strolling up to them, carrying a small child in a baby basket. "I'm Peleus Nigel, and this is my wife Emese." He said, gesturing to the black haired woman. Harry nodded and smiled to Emese, who said a cheerful hello in response.
"I've heard about you both from Austrinus," Harry said, remembering the conversation that Nigels had had when they visited Sirius in Grimmauld Place. They said that Emese had wanted to send Lucida to Hogwarts, which would make her the first Nigel to go to Hogwarts ever since they broke away from the Blacks. "And this must be little Lucida," Harry grinned, bending down and looking at a little baby girl, who had startling violet eyes and a tuft of black hair. She stared straight up at Harry, meeting his gaze, which startled the older wizard a bit, forcing him to look over to Sirius.
"See what we've been saying? She's more lucid than children five times her age." Sirius laughed, noticing Harry's strange expression.
"It must be because of her name," Her father nodded with a large grin, noticing the pun that Sirius had used. He introduced himself to Tonks when the metamorphmagus came strolling over, and smiled as the woman fawned over his daughter.
"She is so cute," Tonks cooed, reaching out with her finger and allowing Lucida to play with it. "How old is she?"
"Almost a year," Her mother answered, grinning from ear to ear. Emese had always wanted the Nigels to come out of the darkness and get to know the world, and now that the last of the prejudiced Blacks in Bellatrix Lestrange was dead, she felt now was the perfect time.
A few minutes later, Tonks smiled as she watched Sirius and the Nigels walk over to get a drink, and then she gave out a small sigh, though Harry did not hear. "I'm glad he's found some blood relatives that, you know, like him." She whispered, and then corrected herself when she realized what she had said. "Besides my mom and me, I mean."
"I have a surprise for you," Gaetana Robards' voice cut through the air, walking up behind Tonks. Tonks turned around with Harry, and grinned at Gaetana expectantly.
Gaetana smiled brightly at Tonks, before she silently lifted up her left hand and jangled her fingers, showcasing the large diamond ring that she had on her fourth finger. "No way!" Tonks shouted with wide eyes as a smile appeared on her face, drawing the attention of everyone around them. She took a few quick steps towards her friend and engulfed her in a large hug, as the pair twirled around in joy. Then, suddenly she stopped and looked up at Gaetana. "You're not going back to Italy, are you?"
"No," Gaetana shook her head, happily. "Better yet, when my mother heard about how brave my father was at Hogwarts, leading Aurors and Hit Wizards against the Death Eaters, she decided that she was retiring and moving back in with him. She's coming to England with my grandparents!"
"That's great!" Tonks exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. She would finally get to see her best friend whenever she wanted, rather then only on special occasions or when they're fighting a war against the most dangerous Dark Lord ever.
Harry looked over to Cedric, and while he was wearing a smile on his handsome face, he didn't seem particularly happy, though Harry didn't know why. After all, shouldn't it be a happy day? It wasn't everyday that an engagement happens, right? "What's wrong?"
"What?" Cedric questioned, shaking his head, trying to clear his mind. "Oh, nothing, just tired, that's all." He said, gesturing for Harry to follow him over to the couches, where Viktor was sitting, talking with a Lilyre Moon and Terry Boot. As they arrived, Terry and Lilyre both got up to get some food, leaving the trio alone on the couch.
"I'm going back to Bulgaria for a month or two in a couple of days to visit my family" Viktor said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "They have been really vorried about me, so I figured I'd go home and spend some time vith them. Hermione vill still be in England, however, since Hogwarts vill resume classes starting next veek."
Harry stayed silent for a second, and then gave out a loud sigh. "Will you two meet me up in the library?"
"Sure," They both nodded, before rising to their feet.
"Good, shall we say in ten minutes?" Again, they nodded, and Harry left to gather a few more people that he wanted to join the trio in the library.
After ten minutes, Harry was the last to enter the library, closing the wooden doors behind him. He turned around, and saw nearly everyone who he wanted to be there, there: everyone who had attended his bachelor party who was still alive and fought against Voldemort, except for one man. Just then, there was a knock on the door, and Harry smiled, knowing just who it was that was there—he had told Tonks to notify the man to come up to the library when she saw that he had arrived. He opened up the door and allowed his guest entry, and when he did enter, there were audible gasps at his appearance.
"What is he doing here?" George screeched, pointing a threatening finger at the tall man with a rabbit-looking face and dark hair.
"I didn't know this party was going to be filled with Death Eaters." Wayne Hopkins sneered, grabbing his wand and pointing it straight at the man's chest.
"And the last horses just crossed the finish line," Sirius whispered, looking over to the new entry into the room. "Theodore here was Kylie, you know, one of the people who risked his life just as much as any of you in order to defeat Voldemort."
"How many of you knew?" Theodore Nott questioned, looking around at the group.
Sirius looked around as well, and when he saw nearly everyone shrug, he sighed. "Was I really the only one who figured it out?"
"I thought it would be nice if we all go together and had a toast, you know, to all of our fallen friends." Harry started, slowly, somewhat nervous. He didn't want to insult anyone as the wounds from the losses were still fresh, but he knew that they all needed this. He took his normal, fixed black wand from his robes and gave it a broad wave, and fifteen glasses appeared on the coffee table that was in the center of the circle of couches and chairs. He then walked over to the dry bar that was in the corner, and pulled out two bottles of currant red rum. "In case you haven't noticed, this is everyone who was at my stag party that…well, are still able to attend and were apart of the Order of the Phoenix."
They all poured themselves a glass, and when everyone was ready, Harry raised his glass high into the air. "To all those we lost!"
"Cheers," The group said, somberly, as they downed their drink.
"This can't be all that there is," Cedric whispered, walking over the table and starting to pour himself another drink. Everyone else passed their glasses as well, and when everyone had another, Cedric put the bottle back down on the table. "I wish we could do something, I wish…I wish there was some way magic could fix this." Cedric went silent for a moment, but then suddenly picked up the bottle of rum and threw it at the wooden doors, where it exploded against the wall—glass spattered all over the room, though it hurt no one. "WE LOST SO MUCH!"
He looked around the room and noticed everyone there, making eye contact with them each individually. "Lilyre lost his entire family, his mother, his father, his two sisters, his grandparents: all dead. For Merlin's sake, his house was burned down to the ground! Harry lost his parents and his unborn child. George lost his twin brother, and his older brother was maimed by a beast of a wizard—no offense, Remus." Cedric said, looking over to the werewolf, who just raised his glass in response. "Mad-Eye Moody, Dumbledore, and countless others died. We lost our close friend, one of my best friends and a good man in Roger. And I LOST MY BLOODY HAND!" Cedric yelled out, his eyes wide in anger while the others just watched on in sadness; he was saying exactly what they felt inside. Harry watched his friend go off, surprised by everything that was happening—he had never seen Cedric so smolderingly angry. Sure, he had seen Cedric pissed off in the heat of the moment, but never had he seen his friend hold in so much hatred and anger inside of him. "But still these so called wizards, these disgusting Death Eaters can roam free? It sickens me that some of those monsters are still out there."
"There is really nothing we can do about it, can we?" Terry Boot sighed, believing that there was absolutely nothing they could do. Because he had lost his ear in the battle of Hogwarts, he now wore his hair down and shaggy, covering up his missing body part. Someday, perhaps, he'd be able to get fake ear, but there was nothing like that at that moment in time. Luckily enough, however, he could still hear, albeit not as good as he once did. "It wouldn't be right to all get pitchforks, form into a posse, and march upon their homes, would it?"
"No, but I will change this; I will make sure that this will never happen again." Cedric spat, his anger subsiding just a bit. "The corruption in the Ministry disgusts me. If it wasn't for the corruption and ineptness after the last war, perhaps we could have ended Voldemort's reign quicker this time"
"That's probably true," Shacklebolt agreed, knowing that if the Ministry had made more of an effort to actually capture Death Eaters and not allow them to talk their way out of their punishments last time, then Voldemort would have had a much smaller power base to work with during his second rise.
"What are you going to do?" Lilyre Moon asked, cocking an eyebrow, wondering what Cedric had in mind. Being reminded that his family was slaughtered hurt him, but then hearing the list of things that everyone else had lost, which didn't include every injury or loss that everyone had sustained, really put things into perspective for him and made his pain subside a bit.
"I'm going to become the Minister of Magic," Cedric answered simply, making Harry smile at that proclamation. There was a confidence to Cedric that not many of them had ever seen; it was as if there was nothing the world could do to stop him from becoming the Minister, that he would overcome any obstacle.
"Well, here's to the future Minister of Magic!" Sirius cheered, raising his glass into the air, the memory of Harry and him cleaning Grimmauld Place, where Harry admitted that he thought it was Cedric's lifelong goal to be the Minister not escaping his mind.
Fifteen minutes later, the group dispersed, each going back down to the first floor to enjoy the rest of the party. As Harry looked for Tonks, he came across Lisa, Roger's widow. "Harry!" Lisa grinned, clearly over blaming Harry for Roger's death and accepting that it was the Death Eaters that got Roger killed, not Harry.
Harry hugged her, and then pulled back, running his eyes over her stomach. "You don't look pregnant at all, is everything all right?" Harry questioned Lisa in a worried tone, hoping that she was okay.
Lisa smiled, patting Harry on the shoulder. "I'm fine; it's only been a month, Harry." She said, making Harry shrug with a lopsided smile.
"Harry," Tonks whispered, bringing her arms up around Harry's neck, as her husband turned at her voice.
"Yes," He replied, staring down at her.
"I'm pregnant," She grinned, watching his reaction, wanting to see the unadulterated joy that she knew would come.
"What, I thought, wasn't it impossible…after Dolohov hit you with his curse….mediwizard said it was impossible…" Harry rambled, his eyes wide with shock, trying to grasp the situation.
"I guess he was wrong," Tonks laughed, as Harry picked her up. She wrapped her legs around him, both hugging each other tightly, the joy of the moment overcoming them. As their friends enjoyed the party around them, Harry and Tonks both laughed and laughed, enamored with the idea that they were going to be parents, that they were going to have a child. Then and there, Harry promised himself that he would be there for his child, even if it cost him everything that he loved—his child would be his most cherished, and there would be nothing, nothing that would take that away from him.
As Harry put Tonks down, Cedric and Viktor came up behind Harry, each with large smiles on their faces. "Did you hear?" He enthusiastically questioned them, wanting everyone to know about it.
"Yeah," They both nodded.
Cedric looked over to Tonks, and then flicked his gaze over to Harry. "I'll bet you twenty-five galleons that it's a girl." He said, wanting to truly get back to the normalcy that the group had before all the Voldemort stuff. Roger was usually the one that initiated their bets, but since his dear friend was gone, Cedric figured he'd have to step up, which in a way, made him extremely happy, believing that the tradition was honoring Roger's memory.
"You got yourself a bet, because I know it's going to be a boy." Harry replied, laughing once more, knowing that this was just the beginning of his adult life, rather than the conclusion of his pre-child life. And, while this chapter closed with a happy ending, he knew the story wasn't over for Harry Potter. No, instead the tale was just beginning for the man with green eyes, messy black hair, and the lightning bolt-shaped scar.
AN: Well, there it is, the final chapter. It's been amazing these last three years, a really great ride that taught me a lot about writing. Be on the lookout for my epilogue and the new story, Harry Potter and the Turning of the Sun, where Harry is thrust into a different time and is forced to adapt to a new life with new people, while also going through the war against the Dark Lord.