Chapter Four

AFTERMATH

For several minutes chaos and confusion reigned as Lupin and McGonagall held back guests who pressed forward, trying to catch a glimpse of Greyback while other guests screamed or ran about shouting to everyone about the killing. Fred and George helped form a rough circle around the corpse, while Bill and Fleur went around calming everyone down. Harry was still staring down at Greyback's face, now motionless in death.

"H-Harry?" Ron hesitated, not sure what to do, while Harry stared in horror at the man he had just killed. Ron looked around at his mother: she was at the back door of the Burrow, frantically signaling him to get Harry and come into the house. "Harry, let's get inside. Lupin and McGonagall will handle it."

A familiar figure came into view: Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped around Harry and knelt beside the body, touching Greyback's neck lightly with two fingers to check for a pulse. After a few moments, he took out his wand and passed it over the body a few times, then nodded, apparently satisfied. Standing he looked at Harry for a moment, then turned to Ron and Hermione. "Ron, listen," he said quietly in his low voice. "Have your father contact the Ministry. I'm going to do the same. It will look better if he appears to have thought of it on his own."

"It sounded like Dad was stunned, earlier," Ron said, his voice as dry as dust.

"He was, but your mother gave him the countercurse. Go on." Ron nodded curtly and hurried off.

Shacklebolt looked at Harry. "Can you hear me, Harry?"

Harry nodded slowly. Shacklebolt's voice seemed far away, surreal. Everything had become unreal since he watched Greyback's blood pouring from his neck and chest; it had reminded him of the wounds on the face and chest of Draco Malfoy, when Harry had used Sectumsempra on him a few months ago. It had nearly killed him; if Snape had not found them in time to treat the wounds and get Malfoy to Madame Pomfrey, his blood would have been on Harry's hands as well as Greyback's.

"Go in the house with Miss Granger," Shacklebolt said to him, kindly but firmly. "Other Aurors will be coming soon. They need to ask you questions about this. You should be calm and prepared to answer them."

Harry looked up at Shacklebolt, a strange expression in his eyes. "Answer? What's to answer? I k-killed him," he said flatly.

"Harry—!" Hermione began, but Shacklebolt stopped her.

"You were defending yourself, no?" he said quietly, leaning close to Harry.

"I killed him," Harry repeated. "I killed him." Shacklebolt stood up, eyeing Harry with both concern and annoyance.

"I got him," a voice growled quietly out of nowhere, making Harry start. It was Moody's voice, he knew, but he hadn't seen the ex-Auror anywhere around before the ceremony started. Shacklebolt nodded and turned away.

"Come on, Potter," Moody's voice said briskly. "Let's get you inside. Miss Granger, take his other arm."

Hermione was looking around, confused as much as Harry, but then one of his arms jerked slightly, and she took hold of the other one. Harry didn't resist as they led him through the back door of the Burrow and into the kitchen. They maneuvered him into one of the chairs around the scrubbed table.

Moody muttered "Finite," and his Disillusionment Charm ended, revealing the retired Auror. Despite the warmth of the day he was dressed in a knee-length coat and heavy pants. He regarded Harry evenly with his one good eye. The other eye, the magical one with the vivid blue pupil, was spinning wildly in its socket, ever vigilant.

Hermione started to pull out a chair as well, but Moody put out a hand to stop her. "Give Potter an' me a few minutes, Miss Granger."

She looked indignant. "Why shouldn't I stay? Harry needs his friends right now –"

"No doubt," Moody growled. "But I need a few minutes with him as well, so scoot." He jerked a thumb at the back door. "Go help get the guests settled back down."

Hermione looked mutinous, but finally gave in and stalked out without a word, pausing only long enough to give him a dirty look before slamming the door behind her. Moody smiled crookedly, then turned back to Harry.

"So," he said. "What do you think?"

The question threw Harry for a second. "About what?" he asked, irritated. Didn't Moody realize what Harry had just done? Was he that insensitive to what had just happened?

"You just killed a man," Moody replied in a low growl. "What d'you think about that? Do you feel anything at all? Happy? Upset? Sick? Angry?"

"Why would I be happy about something like that?" Harry said loudly, outrage in his voice.

"I just wondered if that had whetted your appetite for killing," Moody replied, watching Harry with appraising eyes.

Harry buried his face in his hands. The only thing he felt now was revulsion – revulsion for himself, for what he'd done to another living being, even someone like Greyback, and the feeling in his stomach was overpowering him. He leaned forward and vomited violently onto the kitchen floor, watching as his breakfast splattered the table, chairs, and his and Moody's robes.

Moody stared down at the sick on the floor, on his robe, and looked back at Harry. "Good," was all he said, waving his wand and making the spatters disappear. "Glad to see that you didn't enjoy your first taste of killing.

"I threw up the first time I killed a man, too," Moody added quietly, with an expression that was neither hostile nor overly friendly. He pointed his wand at the vomit and muttered under his breath. The vomit vanished, leaving the floor and their robes clean.

Harry stared at the floor for some time, feeling sick and revolted with himself, while Moody looked on. Moody finally smiled crookedly and leaned back in his chair. "Me an' Dumbledore were friends for quite a few years. I knew him, of course, ever since I started at Hogwarts. And we cross ed paths quite a few times after I became an Auror. Especially after Voldemort came onto the scene. He even helped me get this," Moody pointed to his electric blue eye, even now spinning rapidly in its socket.

"As much attention as Dumbledore's been payin' you in the last couple of years," Moody finished, "I figure he's been getting you ready for something.

"What?" Harry said, still looking down, not wanting to give anything away.

Moody chuckled. "What I might know, or guess, isn't important. Dumbledore pretty much always told me what I needed to know, and no more. I figger that's good enough for me an' you, too. Deal?"

Harry nodded.

"Right, then. Now listen, Potter," Moody said, leaning forward to speak quietly to Harry. "We ain't got much time. You were right to use that spell – Greyback would've carried you off if he could've, to bring you to Voldemort or infect you like he infected Lupin. Don't let anyone tell you different. It's not an Unforgivable Curse, however unpopular it may be."

"What's going to happen next?" Harry looked up, leaning on the table and steepling his fingers in front of him.

"The Aurors'll question you about the attack. They may want to rattle you a bit to see if you change your story. Jus' remain calm an' stick to the facts. After they question the other werewolves –"

"Werewolves?" Harry said, started. "Those other men were werewolves?"

"Yeah, Greyback prefers 'em to any other kind of Dark wizard, even Death Eaters," Moody growled. "Once the Aurors get their story we might have some clue about what Voldemort knows about this."

"Do you think Voldemort might have had something to do with this attack?" Harry asked. It was refreshing to speak with someone who didn't flinch every time the word "Voldemort" was spoken.

"Dunno," Moody said, scratching his chin pensively. "For now, just tell the Aurors your story an' stick to the facts. I'm gonna go an' make sure nobody like your friend Granger mentions my name to 'em – I want to have a listen to some of their conversations and it won't do to have 'em thinking I'm about. Mind yourself, Potter." And with that Moody tapped his head with his wand, muttering "Illusio," and faded from view. "Get the door for me, willya?" his voice said.

The Ministry Aurors arrived shortly after Harry and Moody's talk. Refreshingly, they handled themselves quite professionally, although Harry didn't enjoy telling his version of the attack three different times to different Aurors. Most of the guests were questioned and released quickly; the crowd milling about in the backyard and garden of the Burrow diminished rapidly. The three men who had helped Greyback in the attack were questioned shortly then whisked away, presumably to Ministry headquarters, Harry thought.

Harry, Hermione and Ron were sitting in a section of empty chairs quietly discussing what the Aurors had asked each of them when Bill and Fleur came out of the back door, now dressed in traveling clothes, and walked over to them.

"They're through with us, finally," Bill said cheerfully, stopping in front of Ron but addressing all three of them. "Fleur and I are taking off for a few days in Europe. You three are the last ones to say goodbye to. Thanks for being in our wedding, it was certainly a very enjoyable – and memorable – experience."

They stood, and Ron reached out to shake his brother's hand, but Bill chuckled and pulled him into a hug, embarrassing Ron. "See you later, little brother," Bill said, releasing him. He turned to Hermione, who didn't need to be pulled forward; she hugged him for a long moment then released him, smiling.

Fleur stepped up to Ron with a smile. "Take care of 'Ermione, Ron," she said, hugging him as well; evidently he was not as embarrassed to embrace her as he had been Bill. Fleur kissed him lightly on each cheek, then embraced Hermione tightly.

Bill had turned to Harry, who had kept his eyes downcast until now. "I'm sorry about what happened," Harry mumbled, genuinely upset that their wedding had been marred by events focusing on him.

"Well, don't be," Bill chided him gently. "Just think, we're the only people in the world that can say Fenrir Greyback died at our wedding. People will think it was the event of the century." Ron and Hermione chuckled at that; Harry even smiled a bit. "And, considering the history I have with that bloke," Bill added, indicating his face, scarred by Fenrir's attack, "I can't say I'm sorry we're all shot of him."

"Too right," Ron agreed while Hermione and Fleur nodded.

"Take care, Harry," Bill said, giving him a hug which Harry, after a moment's hesitation, returned. Bill stepped back and Fleur came up to him, smiling brightly.

"Ah, 'Arry, we've done so much together, 'aven't we?" she said, touching his cheek. Harry smiled, but he really couldn't think of that much beyond the Tri-Wizard Tournament over two years ago. "I 'ope ev'rything will work out for the best with you, an' Ron, and 'Ermione. Take care," and she kissed each of his cheeks and embraced him.

She and Bill then took each other's hand and walked together back into the house, passing Ginny, who hugged both of them before joining Harry, Ron and Hermione.

"They're about finished," she said flatly, flopping into a nearby chair. "I didn't think it was possible to ask the same question so many different ways. They even wanted to know if I was still seeing Harry," she added, annoyed. "As if it were any of their business in the first place!"

"We were just talking about that," Hermione said seriously.

"What, me and Harry kissing?" Ginny asked, smirking at the look of pained embarrassment on Ron's face. Harry hadn't reacted.

"No, about all the questions they asked about Harry," Hermione mused. "It seemed like they were a lot more personal than what they would need to investigate Greyback's death."

"Yeah, 'Did Potter ever talk about Greyback to you?' or 'Did Potter ever say anything about killing Greyback to you?'" Ron said, mimicking the serious tone of one of the Aurors. "Now if Snape'd showed up and Harry had done him in, I might be a bit suspicious."

"Not that he wouldn't deserve it," Harry said darkly.

Just then Fred leaned out the back door. "Oi! Come on in, you lot. The Aurors have gone and Dad wants a word with everyone." They trudged into the house where in the living room, Mr. Weasley was waiting for them with his wife, Fred and George, and Bill and Fleur, who still hadn't left yet. He motioned for everyone to sit down, and after they'd all found chairs or places to sit, he paced back and forth for a few moments, apparently thinking over what to say.

"I was able to get a few moments with Kingsley Shacklebolt," he said finally. "He told me the general feeling among the Aurors conducting the investigation was that Harry acted in self-defense." There were cheers from Fred and George and both Mrs. Weasley and Ginny. Ron thumped Harry on the back and Hermione sighed in relief.

"Way to go, Harry!" George said, giving a thumbs-up.

"Who're you going to rub out next?" added Fred with a smirk.

"Hush, you two!" said Mrs. Weasley. "Go on, Arthur," she nodded to her husband.

"The other news isn't so good," Mr. Weasley said soberly. "The Aurors were under strict orders to discuss only this investigation with everyone here. The Ministry is still dead set on having Harry's hearing next month."

"Did Kingsley get any impressions about what the Ministry's motivations are, Dad?" Bill asked.

Mr. Weasley shook his head. "No. He's perplexed as well. No one at the Ministry has even attempted to contact Harry's aunt or uncle to see what they know, nor has anyone tried to talk to either Ron or Hermione."

"Because if they did," Fred said bitterly. "They'd realize that they would tell them they were doing magic, not Harry, and their case would fall apart. "

"It smells like a frame-up," George added, darkly.

"Don't be hasty," Mr. Weasley said mildly. "The Ministry can be officious and stuffy, but that's the way government offices are."

"You always say that, Dad," Ginny said wearily. "I agree with George. They're out to get Harry again."

Mr. Weasley frowned. "I know it looks that way," he agreed, grudgingly. "But Rufus Scrimgeour issued a memorandum shortly after Dumbledore's funeral that said all information pertaining to Harry Potter should be routed through his office, and that he wanted no actions taken against him without his personal authorization." He paused to let that sink in.

Bill spoke first. "Are you suggesting that Scrimgeour is trying to support Harry in some way? Because I can see him doing that whether he intended to help Harry – or gather evidence against him."

"Scrimgeour can't be very happy with me," Harry put in. "I've turned him down twice now to be his Ministry poster boy."

"But, why would he protect you now?" Hermione argued. "Unless he still thinks there's a chance you'll come round."

"That's why I think this hearing thing is just a Ministry foul-up," Mr. Weasley took up the conversation again. "The letter went out to Harry automatically, and to you and Ron as well, Hermione. By the time anyone realized what was going on, it was a part of the system and couldn't be stopped. I expect Harry'll go in next month and the whole thing will be cleared up in a few minutes."

There were looks of skepticism around the room. Mrs. Weasley stood up and said bracingly, "Here now, let's have no gloomy looks or bad feelings about this. Your father's been at the Ministry long enough to know what's what there. Harry will go to his hearing next month and be cleared, so he can go back to school and get on –"

"I'm not going back to school," Harry said, before he could stop himself. The room went dead quiet.

Mrs. Weasley looked around at him as if she had misheard. "What did you say, Harry dear?"

Harry took a deep breath and repeated himself. "I'm not going back to school."

Mrs. Weasley took a step back as if she'd been struck a physical blow. "But – but why on earth not?"

"Because there are … things I need to do."

"'Things?'" Mrs. Weasley said, sounding baffled and irritated by the vagueness of Harry's remark. "What things?"

"Things Professor Dumbledore asked me to do, before he died."

"Wicked!" Fred and George both exclaimed. Mrs. Weasley shot them a dark look, and they lapsed into silence, still grinning.

"Harry, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, turning back to him. Harry could hear the strain in her voice as she struggled to remain calm. "Whatever Dumbledore asked you to do, I'm sure he never meant for you to neglect your education. Surely –"

"I'm sorry, but there isn't going to be a debate on this," Harry cut over her. "I'm going to be seventeen soon, and I know what I'm doing. I'm not going back. When I turn seventeen, I'll move out on my own."

Ron and Hermione looked at each other, their mouths open. Mr. Weasley put his head down, sighing. Fleur had put her hand to her mouth, stifling a gasp, while Ginny and Bill had made no reaction.

Mrs. Weasley stood stock-still, staring at Harry. He felt as if she were marshalling arguments against him. After several moments she turned to Ron. "Did you know about this, Ronald?"

"Er –" Put on the spot, Ron looked terrified he would say the wrong thing. "Well, I – that is, we –"

"Of course we all knew." Ginny had said this; she was staring defiantly at her mother. "The reason nobody told you is that we all knew how you'd react."

"WELL HOW ELSE WOULD YOU EXPECT ME TO REACT?!" Mrs. Weasley exploded. "HARRY CAN'T JUST GO THROWING AWAY HIS EDUCATION AFTER ALL THESE YEARS!"

"I'm not throwing anything away," Harry said as Mrs. Weasley, now red-faced, paused to draw breath for another salvo. "Hogwarts will still be there when I'm done; I can still return and finish my final year, if they'll have me."

Mrs. Weasley opened her mouth to retort, but instead, she seemed to change her mind.

"Fine," she said calmly, as if she hadn't just been shouting at the top of her voice. "You're right, Harry – you're about to come of age, and you must do what you think is best. And so must I."

She turned to the others. "Bill and Fleur, you'd better be off before we find some other reason to keep you here." They nodded, looking perplexed and, after hugging everyone, walked outside together. Just beyond the gate, they disappeared.

"Right, I'll have dinner ready in half an hour," Mrs. Weasley continued briskly. "You three –" she pointed at Fred, George and Ron. "Get those chairs Vanished and move our tables back where they were. Ginny, when they finish that, I want you to get it set for supper. Everybody hop to it!"

An hour later Harry was in the Ron's room, now full, sitting with Ron and Hermione. They'd come upstairs to talk about what to do next, but none of them knew quite where to begin. It would be two more weeks before his hearing at the Ministry, and a month before he turned seventeen.

Finally, Ron spoke. "You know, I've never thought about how I'm going to tell Mum I'm leaving school with Harry."

"Neither have I," Hermione said as well. She smiled, displaying normal size front teeth. "I remember my mother was very upset with me, the first time she saw me after my teeth were fixed. She thought I'd gone ahead and shrunk them myself."

"What did you tell her?" Harry asked, curiously.

"Well, the truth, of course," Hermione said, a bit archly. "I told her about the fight between you and Malfoy, and the spell he cast that bounced off yours and hit me. When I had Madame Pomfrey shrink my teeth, she went just a bit too far until they looked like this, and it seemed silly to ask her to make them bigger again," Hermione smiled.

"But my dad never said a thing about them, even after he'd cleaned them the following summer. He just said, 'They're coming along nicely, aren't they?'

"Now that I have to tell them I'm not going back to school," Hermione continued, serious now. "I don't know how they're going to take it."

"You don't have to tell them that, you know," Harry said quietly. "You can still go back to school, if it opens."

"And leave you and Ron to fend for yourselves? Please!" But there was a twinkle in her eye as she said this.

"Ha, ha. You can laugh now," Ron said, annoyed. "But you saw how Mum acted when Harry said he wasn't going back to school. I don't want to imagine what she's going to do when I tell her."

"At least you're old enough to leave right now if you wanted to," Harry pointed out. "Both of you. I've still got a month to go."

There was a knock on the door and a moment Mr. Weasley put his head in and looked at Hary. "Harry, may I have a word with you? Downstairs, please." Harry got up and followed Mr. Weasley downstairs and into his study.

He motioned toward a chair. Harry flopped down in it and Mr. Weasely asked, "Fancy some tea? Mrs. Weasley just brought me a pot,"

"Yes, thanks."

Mr. Weasley poured the tea, handing Harry the cup, then moved silently toward the door, taking out his wand. Harry watched, intrigued, as he stopped in front of the door and tapped it lightly. Putting the wand away, Mr. Weasley walked back and sat at his desk, sipping his tea for a moment before saying, "Not that anyone will be listening, Harry, but I've lived with Fred and George long enough to know how much they hate private conversations. Except their own, of course.

"I hope you don't think you have to be in a hurry to go anywhere, Harry," Mr. Weasley began, looking at him circumspectly as he sipped at his tea. "I wanted to tell you that, no matter what you decide to do or where to go, you'll always be welcome here."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said earnestly. "I really am glad to hear that."

"It's been a difficult couple of years, I know," Mr. Weasley went on seriously. "Dumbledore had always told us that You-Know-Who might return someday. But it always seemed so very improbable, right up until the day it happened." Harry nodded, remembering that day as well.

"The ranks of the Order have been decreased as well. Mundungus is in Azkaban, Snape –" Harry's face darkened at his mention – "has switched sides, and Emmaline Vance is dead." Mr. Weasley leaned forward and regarded Harry intently. "Harry, we do not want to lose you, too."

"Believe me, sir, I have no desire to sacrifice myself," Harry said earnestly. "I want to come back to – to all of you," he finished, not knowing whether Ginny had ever broached the subject of him and her with her father. "But Dumbledore trusted me, and I believe what he believed."

"What did he believe, Harry?" Mr. Weasley asked.

Harry hesitated. "I can only say, sir, that he believed there was a way I could make a difference. And that I want to do so."

Mr. Weasley sighed. "I understand, Harry. Believe me, I've come to understand just how much personal sacrifice one can be asked to make, even though our family, thankfully, has been largely spared.

"Very well, then," Mr. Weasley said, getting up from his desk and coming around to Harry's side. "I won't keep you any longer. Have a good night's rest, and I'll keep you informed of any developments about your hearing."

"Thank you, sir." Mr. Weasley opened the door and Harry went back up to Ron's room, where he was lying in bed staring at the ceiling, lost in thought, as Harry came through the door.

"That didn't take long," Ron said, coming out of his reverie as Harry shut the door behind him. "What did Dad want to talk about?"

"He was giving me an update on my hearing," Harry said evasively, but then added, "And he wanted to talk about me leaving the Burrow." Ron sat up suddenly.

"What did he say?" he asked anxiously. "He can't want you to leave, does he?"

"No, he was just concerned that I'd been planning to leave so soon." Ron relaxed.

"Hermione wondered if he and Mum were getting a bit of 'Empty Nest Syndrome,' she called it. Parents getting depressed because all their kids are leaving home. Personally, I can't imagine them being anything but happy to be shot of Fred and George."

Crack. Crack.

"We heard that, little brother," Fred said reprovingly as both he and George Apparated into Ron's bedroom. "You wound us, deeply."

"Yeah," George agreed. "Besides, we thought seeing the back of Percy the Perfect Prat would've convinced them that sometimes a child leaving home can be the best thing that ever happened to them."

"Eavesdropping again, were you?" Ron said knowingly. "Why didn't you listen in on Dad's chat with Harry?"

"Unfortunately, our dear father has taken to making his door Imperturbable lately," Fred said in a manner reminiscent of one who's been grievously misjudged. "Our mother has had a sad influence on the man."

"Absolutely deplorable," George agreed. "Fortunately, we have other means at our disposal."

"A small hole behind one of the bookcases in his study, to be precise," Fred said, grinning.

"So you heard," Harry said. It wasn't a question.

"We did indeed, Harry," George said. "And we're very impressed."

"Very," Fred repeated. "It takes a lot of courage to go after You-Know-Who, but even more so, in our opinion, to stand up to Mum."

"What makes you think I'm going after Voldemort?" Harry asked casually, trying to make the question sound inconsequential.

"Just a hunch," Fred said cagily. "There are rumors flying about in Diagon Alley about Dumbledore trying to learn everything he could about him. Now that he's dead, it seems like he'd pass the mantle on to you."

"Yes," Harry said. Ron looked at him warningly, but Harry shook his head. "Ron we're going to need help. You, Hermione and I can't do it by ourselves. With Dumbledore we might've, but he's gone now."

Fred and George looked at each other, finally surprised. "Ron and Hermione?" George said, sounding slightly affronted. "What, didn't think about us?"

Harry looked at the twins. Of all the people, other than Ron or Hermione, he might be tempted to tell about Voldemort's Horcruxes, it was these two men. "We need you two to keep your ears to the ground in Diagon Alley for us."

Fred and George both looked at Harry seriously, and Fred said, "If you need help on anything, and I mean anything, Harry, we're you're men."

"We can be a bit useful in a pinch," George put in.

Harry nodded, glad that Fred and George could be counted on if they needed them. They would be useful, with as much practical knowledge of magic as they had between the two of them. With that, and with Ron and Hermione behind him, Harry thought, the end of Voldemort's reign of terror might just be in sight.