Author's Responses at the end.

Chapter Twenty-One: The Diary

"They really want me to do a press conference?" Harry asked.

"I think it would be best," Beverly Picard said.

"And," Susan added, "since they're going to ask the questions anyway, if you do it on your terms maybe they'll stop pestering you so much."

It was three days after the ceremonies, and Beverly had already confirmed all five women were now in the very earliest stages of pregnancy. The veteran doctor was a little bemused by the fact that there was not an ounce of alarm when she broke the news. Rather, the young women squealed in delight and virtually tackled their mutual husband.

"So when would I do it?"

"How's an hour sound?"

Harry's eyes bulged a little. "An hour?"

"Modern media is very flexible," Beverly said.

"Oh, okay. Thank you."

An hour later, Harry and his wives stood at a podium in the media room of the Prime Minister's office in Geneva taking questions from reporters not just from Earth, but from other worlds as well.

The first question asked was, "You have somehow convinced the leadership of this world and the Federation that 'magic' exists," the Vulcan reporter said dryly. "However, the existence of magic has been thoroughly disproven by logical and scientific examination. I therefore ask what means of technology you use to simulate magic?"

"I use magic to simulate magic," Harry said. "Let me demonstrate." He then turned the Vulcan into an ass to the shock of the other reports. "Don't worry," he added, "I'll change him back when we're done. Next question, please?"

"Will you turn me into an animal?" a now timid woman said.

"Is that a question or a request?"

She stammered, and then sat down flushing brightly while another, braver reporter stood. "Mr. Potter, was it normal for 'wizards' of your time to have multiple marriages?"

"Good question," Harry said. "The reporters at the time accused the Minister of Magic and the headmaster of my school of having loose morals and of running a harem, if you want the perspective of the time. It was very unusual. But then again, mine was an unusual case. And no, please, I do not want to go into my early life. I have many painful memories that I would rather not have dragged up right now. Next question."

"What are you going to do now?"

"I'm going to live and love my family," he said. "I'm going to try and find out what traces of the magical world survived, and what I can do to perhaps bring some elements of it back. While I doubt we'll ever have dragons flying in the skies again, or giants stomping through the cities, we might find some of the more common magical herbs and plants. There were common potions that could re-grow bones or organs in minutes. There was another potion that forced the drinker to tell the truth. I think it would be useful to see if the base ingredients for these types of potions still exist."

"Will you stay on Earth?"

Harry blinked. "Where else would I go?" he asked with genuine curiosity. The thought had never even occurred to him.

* * *

That night, Susan pulled out the Book, as they were calling it, and the melted sword.

He looked from the two artifacts, then at the women around him. "You know, I feel really stupid."

"I'm almost afraid to ask why?" Mary said.

Harry placed his wand on the hilt of the sword. "Finite incatatum."

The sword glistened for a moment and then seemed to expand and reform until they were staring at a meter-long blade of exquisite beauty. "It was glamoured," Harry said. "A very powerful glamour to last as long as it did."

He then looked at the book. "And this is under a glamour as well. Finite incatatum."

Suddenly the charred edges of the book disappeared. The worn brown color filled into a rich black color. "There are enough preserving spells on this book that it could have survived ground zero of a nuclear weapon," he said. The ladies leaned forward, so he placed the book on the table and opened it.

It was empty. Each page was blank, save for the one page explaining the ceremony. "Clever," Harry whispered.

He conjured a pen and wrote on the first page. "I am Harry James Potter." The written words seemed to sink into the page until they disappeared.

The ladies, including Beverly now, watched in awe as ink letters floated up as if from a depth within the page. Name the first task.

"Dragons," he wrote.

Where did your first Hogwarts letter go to?

"Cupboard under the stairs, Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey."

Who did you love the most?

Harry grinned. "Luna."

Prat.

Harry laughed in delight while his new wives stared on in surprise. "Harry," Naomi whispered, "is the book alive?"

"Don't know, probably not, though," he said. He wrote, "Hermione, did you make the book a horcrux?"

As much as I wished to kill that brother-in-law of yours, I found I could never surrender my soul so easily. This is a runically powered matrix of my personality and knowledge. I created it while Ginny and I tried to truncate Margaret's magic. I am assuming that our plan worked? What year is it?

"It is 2392," Harry said.

It is good that I am dead, because I would have fainted otherwise. That was much longer than we planned for.

"Green left a legacy organization that hunted down and killed muggleborns."

Antonius Greengrass should have killed that child.

"Or loved him."

Yes, that would have been better. Are you well, my love?

"I am. Do you know what happened?"

I assume that Green caught us and killed us. We knew that we were your only true weakness. But there was so much to do. So much to save.

"I can find no trace of our world, Hermione," Harry wrote. "Were you able to save anything?"

We saved everything.

Harry breathed hard a moment. "Where is it?" he asked. Then, realizing he spoke, he took the pen and repeated the question.

I am not allowed to say outright. Instead I will say this. Go to the place we found the locket.

"Gringotts," Harry whispered. He wrote, "London was destroyed in the war. There is no Gringotts."

I hope you are wrong, my love. Did Daphne remain behind? She told us she was going to haunt her brother if he ever caught us.

"She did, to his dying day. She's moved on now."

Good. I hope to see her on the other side of the veil. And you, Harry. Are you all right?

Harry looked up from the book and looked each of his wives in the face. He realized his cheeks were moist. "The bonds formed anew with five beautiful young women," he wrote. "You would like them, Hermione. They're all much smarter than I am. Daphne gave us her blessing, and they are using your wands. The new Lady Gryffindor is named Katherine Dunningham. Imagine Daphne with blonde hair."

So my namesake is sexy and smart. I hoped and prayed that if we were successful and Margaret was able to revive you, that you would find love again. You were the single most loving person I ever knew. Even though you were abused and neglected as a child, you were the best father I could have ever imagined, the best husband I could have ever hoped for, and the best friend I could have ever wanted. I have always, and I will always, love you Harry James Potter, and I too add my blessing to Katherine and your other wives. I hope they realize how lucky they are to have you. Know that I and your first wives are watching with love in our hearts. When the time comes for you to rest again, we will welcome you and our young sisters with open arms.

Harry put the pen down and gently closed the book. He knew he was crying, but he didn't care. He looked up at Katherine. "That was Hermione, the first Lady Gryffindor," he whispered.

He stood up, smiled at all of them, and walked quietly back to his room. He shut the door and did not come out.

Back at the table, Beverly looked around at five teary faces. The ladies looked as if they were about to run after him. "Leave him be," she told the young women. "It's very obvious that he loves you all, but if you think about it, he hasn't really had time to grieve for his first wives. I know from experience that it's the quiet moments like this when grief hits the hardest. Give him an hour, and then go in and shag his brains out."

"Is that an order, Doctor?" Susan asked. She wiped a tear away and smiled even while she cried.

"It is a suggestion," Beverly said. "From someone who lost a spouse in her youth. He needs time to grieve, but he also needs to be reminded of just how much he has to live for. If you need me, please let me know."

They took her word as law and waited an hour before the five of them walked in to find Harry standing at the window staring out over the beautiful city. They did not speak as they walked up to him. By some unspoken agreement, it was Katherine who took his hand and led him to the bed.

They did not make love at first, however. Instead, as they lay down, Katherine said, "Tell me about Hermione. What was her favorite food?"

They spent the next four hours listening to Harry talk not just about Hermione, but about Luna Lovegood, Daphne Greengrass, Susan Bones and Ginny Weasley. And then about their children and grandchildren. He did not dwell on the war or his losses. Rather, he remembered the good times he had with his first family. After a while, the tears dried and he laughed as he shared funny memories or jokes of the many genuinely good times they had together.

He wasn't even aware of when the ladies stripped him. He must have helped, though he could not say when. He just knew that Katherine said, "Tell me about her favorite subjects," even as she mounted him, took his shaft and guided it inside of her body.

They made love gently, and after a while Harry stopped talking. As soon as he finished, Katherine climbed off and Diana instantly took her place. And as the day ended, Harry lost himself in the new life he had made in this new world.

* * *

The First Lady of Earth looked up in surprise when five people appeared in her office the next morning with a "pop." Instantly security alarms went off, though she cancelled them just as her security contingent rushed in.

Harry grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, guess I shouldn't have done that."

"It's good to keep them on their toes. You look like you're…ooof." She had to stop when Harry walked resolutely around her desk, leaned down and hugged her hard.

When he finally let go of the furiously blushing doctor, he said, "You need to come with us.'

"Come with you where?"

"Back to Green's museum."

"Why?"

Harry's face darkened a little. "Those wands don't belong there. According to the paperwork I signed, I have the right to request reparation. I'm not really interested in money, but I want to restore as much of my world as I can. I think there might be something in England I need to find. But first, I want to reclaim what I know is ours. And…well, you need a wand."

"I'm much too old to learn magic," Beverly said.

Harry leaned down until his nose was an inch from hers, and grinned. "I'm older."

"Not the same thing."

Her argument, though, was cut off when Naomi took her arm. "Come with us, Beverly," she urged.

"You're our duly appointed mother figure," Harry said.

"We decided last night," Susan added. "We all really like you, and since you're magical like us, you're perfect for the role."

"You can be the godmother of our children, if you're willing," Harry said. "Please, Beverly. This is a part of your life. It's a part of who you are and more importantly, who you should have been. And because of that, it makes you a part of our family too. You've done so much for us, please let me help you learn this about yourself."

She sighed, and then suddenly giggled like Diana. "Oh hell, why not?" She tapped a civilian com badge. "Jean Luc, this is Beverly. Are you busy?"

"Just a budget meeting. What can I do for you?"

"Oh nothing, I just wanted to let you know I'm going with Harry and his harem to find a wand and become a witch."

"That sounds marvelous," came the warm reply. "Do you think you could magic me up some hair?"

Harry laughed. "There is a potion for that, if I can find the ingredients," he said.

"Don't you dare!" Beverly said. "My husband has the most beautiful head on the planet, and I will not have it ruined by hair!"

They could hear not just the Prime Minister's chuckles, but also the laughter of those in his meeting. "Very well, Beverly. Please ask Mr. Potter not to disrupt any weather control systems or blow up any cities."

"I'll do my best," Harry said.

Beverly then notified her staff that she was going to London. "So, air car, transporter?"

"Apparation," Harry said. "Everyone hold hands."

With a pop and a squeezing sensation, Beverly suddenly found herself in front of the Phoenix Institute. "That was…can all wizards do that?"

"With training," Harry said. "Not all can side-along apparate six other people, but I'm a little unusual in that regard." Around them, people were staring with shocked expression. However, the young wizard looked up at the damaged corner of the building. It was covered in a heavy tarp. He realized that it had only been two weeks since the incident and for whatever reason, it wasn't repaired.

"They couldn't repair it," Beverly said, following his eyes. "There was some type of residual anaphasic radiation that caused any patch to simply crumble again. They're planning on removing the entire corner."

"Then I suppose it's time to fix it," Harry said. "If you'll excuse me?"

Already administrators were running out of the institute to meet the first lady and the young man that almost destroyed their building. The director saw Harry walking alone to the corner and stopped. "Oh no," the woman said. "Is he going to finish us off?"

Beverly walked to the woman's side. "I don't think so."

Then, to the shock of all watching, Harry lifted off the ground and floated without obvious support to the top of the ten-story structure. He removed the tarp with a flick of his wrist, and then started moving the wand more. The director and others watched as the hole filled in, until in mere moments there was no trace that Harry had ever blasted the corner of the building apart.

He sank back down and walked calmly back to his wives. "Magic is so amazing," Diana whispered.

Harry beamed at her, then turned to the director. "What is your name?" he asked abruptly.

"Cherie Mallory, director of the Phoenix Institute."

"Director Mallory, my name is Harry Potter. The exhibits on the top floor belong to my people. I will have them regardless, but for the sake of courtesy, I would like your permission to take them."

She stammered. "I'm not sure…."

"You can bill Geneva," Beverly told the woman. "These are war reparations. Come on, Harry, ladies, let's go."

By the time Harry and the others reached the top floor, a crowd of spectators had gathered behind them. Immediately after they tripped the runes, the lights went off and Green appeared. "Finite," Harry said before he could speak. The pensieve memory froze. The lights came back on. Harry walked to the large stone bowl. He looked around and transfigured a bullet casing from the destroyed Hogwarts Express into a glass vial, and then pulled the memories from the bowl.

"What are you doing?" the director asked shrilly.

"The pensieve is not a hologram, it is a magical instrument that plays memories. The memories cannot be stored digitally. And this memory is of my brother-in-law murdering my family. So I'm storing them in this vial." He then shrank the pensive and looked around. "Do you have any satchels?"

A nearby spectator said, "You can use mine."

"You won't be getting it back," Harry warned the young woman.

"That's okay," she assured him with a shy smile.

Harry returned the smile and then performed an endless space and feather-light charm on it. He dropped the shrunken pensieve into it. The poor director looked as if she were about to start crying.

Harry led Beverly to the far wall with the wands, then he took the elderly woman's hand. "Revelo magicus foci."

"I don't even think that's proper Latin," Mary said.

"Nope, I just made it up. Once you know the rules, spellcrafting isn't that hard."

His impromptu spell had the immediate effect of causing a sparkle somewhere deep within the wall of wands. He placed the satchel down with mouth open. "You might want to step back," he warned everything. He dissolved the adhesive agent binding the wands and then summoned them all into the bag. People around them watched in silent awe as in groups of hundreds, wands swished off the wall and into the three liter bag.

"How can it hold it all?" the original owner of the bag said.

Without looking over his shoulder, Harry dropped into his old headmaster role. "Magic can be used not just to change the physical nature of objects, but of space itself. I used an endless expansion charm developed in 1898 by a German wizard to give the interior of your satchel almost infinite space. From what I have learned of your modern science, I essentially created a pocket of sustainable subspace in the bag."

He reached out a hand a plucked a glowing stick from the storm of wands. He handed it to Beverly. "Give it a wave, Madame Prime Minister."

She did so and laughed with near childish delight at the show of red sparks that poured from its tip. A moment later, the wall was empty, leaving a meter deep alcove that ran the width of the building.

"Already, now for some brooms," he said.

"Brooms?" the director said, still wide-eyed from her missing exhibit.

"Of course," Harry said with a smile. "Didn't you know that witches rode broomsticks?"

"Just fairy tales," the director began.

"Some of those fairy tales can break the sound barrier," Harry said. He held out a hand and one of the older Firebolt models flared to life. His magic automatically restored its many charms. He placed the model on the floor before his impromptu audience.

"Katherine," he said, "you are the best flyer, do you want to try this?"

"Sure," the young woman said. She came to his side. Harry stood right behind her and took her right hand. "Do you really have to be that close?"

"Do you mind?"

"Never."

"Think of the broom, and say, 'Up!'"

Mary did as instructed, and the broom leapt up into her hand. Harry looked around at the many people watching. Perhaps it was a function of his mood, or the fact that there was no one trying to kill him, but he felt particularly magnanimous.

"Witches and wizards in the twentieth century had several travel options. The most normal was a network of charmed fireplaces that created a network of instantaneous travel we called the 'floo' network. The magic fire could carry a witch or wizard from one fireplace to another instantly. The second was known as a portkey. Anything could be used as a portkey—a common item was socks. Anyone touching a portkey would be transported at near lightspeed to the destination determined by the creator of the key. This was the most common means of international transport. It could also be used for more sinister means, such as abduction. I almost died at fourteen because of a secret portkey."

Nearby, Beverly found herself listening as raptly as the others. Harry spoke with an excellent diction and pacing. He sounded like an experienced, confident lecturer.

"Finally," he said, "wizards could enchant objects to fly. We primarily used brooms out of a sense of tradition. They were the most commonly used objects in our European tradition and so we stuck with them. However, my godfather enchanted a motorcycle to fly, while my father in law enchanted a small car."

He turned back to Katherine. "Climb on."

She did so, and then let her eyes go wide. "It's cushioned! I can't even feel the wood."

"Cushioning charms were normal additions to later brooms," he explained loudly. "Brooms toward the end were the work of professional artisans who specialized in specific spells. The wizarding world had its own factories and its own production centers. The difference of course was that we used magic instead of automation. The Firebolt company was a very successful brand, which is why I bought it. Now, gently push off."

Katherine did so and found herself floating a meter in the air. She narrowed her eyes, leaned forward, and the broom shot forward ten meters. She didn't even scream as she slowly turned the broom and came back.

Harry was grinning. "You're going to be a natural."

"I know," Katherine said with a matching grin.

Harry flicked his wand at the wall. Brooms pulled off and flew into the satchel, one at a time, a good hundred or so in quick succession. The poor director was actually teary-eyed.

"I won't take the Hogwarts Express," he promised her.

"The locomotive, you mean?" the director asked.

"It was the train used to transport students from London to the magical school I attended in Scotland. I remember when that," he motioned to the bullet-riddled locomotive, "happened. I had two grandchildren on it when it happened. Green's soldiers simply stepped out on either side of the tracks and opened fire on a train filled with seven hundred children. We destroyed the soldiers, but not before we lost almost a hundred children." Harry's voice cracked. "Including my granddaughters."

"How many soldiers, Harry?" Susan asked.

"A brigade. Around three thousand soldiers."

Those listening did the math. Three thousand soldiers opened fire on a train of children and were all killed after only a hundred died.

"It's time to go," he told his wives and Beverly. He looked at the director. "Thank you for your cooperation. You should know that Phillip Green was born Phillipus Saturnius Greengrass, the non-magical son of an ancient wizarding family. As was the custom among the older magical families, he was quietly fostered to a family in America to preserve the name of his family. He became Phillip Green, and in revenge for what his family did to him, he committed genocide against his family's people. Everything he did, which as far as I know includes the instigation of World War III, he did so out of a hatred of magic. Please remember that when you speak of him in the future."

With that, Harry lifted the satchel after thanking the woman who gave it to him, gathered the women in his life around him, and disappeared in a pop that startled all those watching.

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Author's Responses

Well, short chapter, few reviews. I suspected that would be the case, but regardless I'm thankful for the reviews I did get. Thank you all very much.

Now for everyone's least favorite part: Questions and Answers.

Q: Will we read about Wesley? Maybe an come together at the Picard's? We Harry rebuild Hogwarts as home of ** magicus? Will they get technology and magic work together?

A: As I've said before, no Wesley. Not because that's not an excellent idea, but because I just didn't think of it, and now there's no place for him in the story. I'm not going to throw in a character just for the sake of having the character show up. As for the other two, if you don't have a definitive yes in the next two chapters, then the answer will be no. I try not to give plot points away but with only two chapters left you'll know very soon.

Q: Will we be getting to see what effects Harry's presence on Federation Earth is having? You know children erupting into accidental magic for the fist time now that his presence is serving as a catalyst?

A: Eventually, yes. Not so much a plot point as an established inevitability.

Q: What is happening with Janeway? (Bitter old crone that she is...mutter...mutter)

A: Honestly I don't go further with her character, but we can speculate on one of two possibilities: 1) The realization of what she threw away wakes her up and makes her appreciate her life, and makes her try to go out, meet people, and maybe find life again; or 2) the much more likely scenario that she remains cold, bitter and resentful as she grows old alone and forgotten. I don't say this to be mean, but rather I acknowledge the fact that it gets harder and harder to change as a person the older you get. But since I don't say, I think you should use your imagination.

Q: But for everything to end all hunky-dory like this is not like you. *eyes narrow* Something's up.

A: I don't know why the fact that I torture and main characters, and in fact wiped out the entire Firefly universe in one story, makes people think I'm blood thirsty. (Sighs). Believe it or not, the story ends with hope, happiness, and maybe a little bittersweet-ness. It's not like my normal stories, but I liked it more so for that fact. I hope others like the end as well.

Q: Well, of course magic and warp physics are related. I mean, even JKR set THAT up with her description of apparition. It's clearly describing wormholes, which is a warping of space in and of itself to allow the wizard to pass through.

A: That was my thinking.

Well, thank you all again for reading, reviewing and commenting. This is now my second most reviewed story, although Bonds of Blood is averaging more reviews per chapter and will pass this one in the next few chapters. Still, it's been fun and I'm happy everyone chose to join me for the ride.