Here we go, the final chapter.

Now this chapter will go down a very ... odd path. It's something I have been thinking of ever since I first started writing this story. So I hope you like it!

'The Acromantula have left their nest,' the young centaur gasped, his flanks slick with sweat from running a very long distance at breakneck speeds.

Tightening the straps of his chest plate one final time, Ronan smiled grimly. Picking up his helmet, he picked up his goblin-steel sword and turned.

'Centaurs!' He said loudly. 'Hagrid's pet is no more, and most of their capable fighters have left to fight the human battle. The time is right for us to strike and rid our lands of the foul presence of the Acromantula.'

The assembled herd of centaurs all waved their assorted weapons in the air, and stamped their hooves, roaring their approval in response.

'We have prepared for this, let's not tarry further!' Turning around, Ronan reared on his hind legs, raising his sword into the air. 'CHARGE!'

As he landed on all four hooves, Ronan jammed his helmet on his head and joined the rest of the centaurs as they all galloped towards the nest at full speed.

Reaching a few metres short of the nest, the herd slowed their speed and began to cautiously make their way forward. Picking his way around a tree silently, Ronan reflected that this opportunity would have been lost to them were it not for a note pinned to a tree with an arrow courtesy of Firenze.

Perhaps they would have to review his status within the herd soon…

Like the wizards, the centaurs too had acquired a variety of arms and armour from the goblins. Also, like the wizards, they had hung onto those when the greedy little creatures started to demand more payment for items that had already been sold. But unlike the wizards, they hadn't been able to develop a versatile tool that could compensate for the lack of fresh weapons when they told those money-grubbing things what they could do with their demands.

For good measure, the centaur herds all over the world had elected to do away with goblin gold as currency.

Not that it mattered. Those vicious little things had long been bought to heel thanks to the wizards, and were no longer able to make weapons, having long lost the knowledge of the craft. Now all they could do was gnash their teeth and rail at the perceived injustice of wizards not sharing their secrets of wand-making.

The end result of it all was that there were more centaur archers than swordsmen. It was these archers that had silently taken up spots at the far edge of the nest, awaiting the signal.

With a short nod from Ronan, Bane blew into a goat-horn, sounding out the battle cry.

Soon, it was raining flaming arrows. Acromantula silk was as highly flammable as it was valued. By the time the giant spiders could form a cohesive resistance, most of the nest was afire.

Only a few managed to make it past the hailstorm of arrows. Pincers clicking madly, they fell upon the herd of attacking centaurs who were more than up to the task of dispatching them.

Yanking his sword out of the last body, Ronan turned to Bane. 'You and a few men can take care of any casualties and dispense with any surviving creatures. Then meet up with me at the outskirts of the human village.'

Bane nodded. 'Do you trust the humans?' he asked in a low voice.

'I trust Albus Dumbledore.' Ronan replied. 'I know he will keep his word and ensure we are left alone after all this.'

'And what of Firenze?'

'What of him?'

Rearing on his hind legs once more, he set off, followed by some of the herd.

Dumbledore stood in the middle of the street in Hogsmeade, looking at the carnage around him.

The Death Eaters had launched quite an offensive, resulting in the most intense battle the village had seen since the last goblin rebellion that had nearly wiped the goblins out. This was the first time they had struck a magical settlement in such a Viking-style fashion, and quite a departure from their normal methods of striking Muggle-rich areas or places that had only a few wizarding homes.

At first, when he had joined the battle, it was proving to be easy. The optimistic thought had crossed his mind that it would be over soon. It was possible that the Death Eaters weren't as used to having victims capable of fighting back on an equal footing, and were thus on the back-foot. It was one thing to strike fear into your opponents using guerrilla tactics and quick snatch-and-grab operations that they were famous for. It was another thing to engage in all-out battle like this where the Auror force had enough time to arrive and join the fight.

Tom had taken the loss of his Horcruxes hard indeed.

Just as it was winding down, with the last stragglers holed up in a row of houses, fighting furiously, a large bunch of Death Eaters appeared on the opposite side of town.

The presence of the reinforcements was not noted till they started attacking the Aurors and Order members from the side. Remus had been the first causality, struck down in front of Dumbledore's eyes, a jet of green light ending his life.

Suddenly their victory was fast slipping as they were forced to defend from two fronts. Matters were not helped by the arrival of dementors, giants and a good portion of the convicted Death Eaters who somehow had managed to break out of prison right under the Ministry's noses.

Not for the first time, Dumbledore cursed the new Minister. Rufus Scrimgeour was just as much of a politician as Fudge and hadn't done the sensible thing and removed the demons from Azkaban, somehow deluding himself into thinking that the creatures were with the Ministry. He had the sneaking suspicion that all the Aurors at the prison had been Kissed.

And he really couldn't tell the Minister off, either. The man had been one of the first to fall to them, his soul sucked out after being isolated and mobbed by a horde of the creatures. Scrimgeour had died in battle like a true martyr. Not that he would be remembered as such, if Dumbledore had anything to say about it. He had just about enough of people like Fudge and Scrimgeour.

And so it was left to Dumbledore to lead the defenders. Now, the headmaster would be the first person to tell you that he was a powerhouse, an experienced and skilled fighter who was talented in magic. But there was one shortcoming that he had; he was not the best at directing troops in battle.

But he had no choice. So he did his level best. Thankfully, he had planned ahead weeks back, something he was good at. His ideas for the defence of the village upon an imminent Death Eater attack (however unlikely it had seemed at the time) had helped the residents and the few members of his Order to effectively fight back or escape.

Trusting the people under him to handle themselves, he gave a small group the task of dispatching the two giants. Hagrid and his brother were tasked with dealing with the Acromantula swarm that had come out of the forest, something the half-giant did with grim determination, having taken personal offence at the treachery displayed by Aragog's children.

Dumbledore had anticipated the possibility of the Acromantula joining the Death Eaters. That was why he had been in contact with the centaurs. He hoped that they had the good sense to capitalise on the reduced population at the nest and end the colony of Acromantula for good. He fully intended to ensure that they were all destroyed once this ugliness was over. They might have a right to life, but not at the expense of his students and the good folk of Hogsmeade.

He knew exactly who were capable of casting a Patronus, so those people were tasked with driving the dementors away.

He and the rest were going to deal with the Death Eaters.

He threw himself into the fight, taking on as many opponents as possible by using his talents and his reputation. In the beginning he was hampered by the fact that his wand did not work as well as it used to ever since he had been disarmed by Harry. But he managed to plug that weakness by picking up the wand of a thoroughly defeated Rabastan Lestrange and continuing the fight, using the Elder Wand in his off hand to cast the odd spell. At one point he had managed to handily take on and defeat ten of the reprobates at one go, making the whole thing look laughably easy as he did so, galvanising his people and demoralising the enemy in the process.

Thankfully his foresight, the competence of his fellows complimented heavily by luck saved the day. By mid-afternoon, the last of the Death Eaters were being rounded up.

Siphoning the blood off his face with a spell, Dumbledore stooped to pick up a weakened Fawkes. His phoenix had swallowed a Killing Curse meant for him, saving his life once more.

'We really should stop doing this Fawkes,' he quipped, depositing the chirping bird into a pocket.

His phoenix secured, he moved through the battlefield.

While their side had definitely won, they had taken many losses. The Weasleys had forever lost Percy before having the chance to make amends. The unfortunate lad was one of the first to die, having been caught unawares en route to The Hog's Head. Albus did not want to think of what the young man was planning on doing there so early in the morning.

But the one loss he was hit by the most was Aberforth. The barman had managed to take out five Death Eaters before losing his life to a blasting hex that he took to the chest.

Albus was reflecting on this sad news when the Patronus came.

'We are under attack,' the stag said in Harry's voice, sending a chill down Dumbledore's spine. 'Voldemort's here.'

Dumbledore ran as fast as he could. The battlefield was saturated with chaotic magic, making travel by Apparition or Portkey impossible.

He reached the spot where the healers from St Mungo's had Apparated with the knowledge that he had taken far too long traversing the village. While he hadn't suffered any injuries, he was still tired from the battle, and it showed. Collecting himself, he twisted into the nothingness.

He appeared on the cliff face a bit away and behind the house Harry lived in.

Hurrying forward, he slowly eased open the back door and listened for any sound from within. There was no reason to alert anyone of his presence at the moment.

The silence that emanated was both deafening and worrying.

He paused for a moment to look at the corpses of the two House-Elves. The state of Kreacher's body told him that Voldemort had found out the identity of the poor thing before killing him.

He slowly eased open the door leading to the drawing room.

What he saw inside drove all coherent thought out of his mind.

The room was utterly destroyed, telling a story of an epic battle. And in the centre of it all lay Lord Voldemort, clearly deceased.

But Dumbledore didn't register that. All he could see was the body underneath. The wand he had won from Rabastan clattered to the floor.

A dim part of him wondered where the Elder Wand had gone, as he physically moved Voldemort's body out of the way with a shaking hand, hoping against hope. He was sure he was holding it before he Disapparated.

He inhaled sharply when he saw what was underneath. Tears sprang from his eyes as he saw the mangled headless body of his most favourite student and the head that lay a short distance away.

The last time he had felt such grief was when Ariana had died.

'Ugh, what a mess.'

'Yes,' Dumbledore said automatically. Turning his head to the source of the noise, he did a double-take.

'Oh Harry,' he breathed, his voice breaking. 'Oh, my little one I am so, so sorry. I tried to come here as fast as I could. But I was too late.' He enveloped the toddler in his arms, shielding him from the grisly tableau behind him. 'Your daddy fought so bravely.'

'Albus, it's ok,' the toddler said. 'Do you mind, you're crushing me.'

'Harry?! Since when did you talk?' Dumbledore asked the toddler, surprised. He pulled back to get a good look at the little boy.

The boy was covered in blood from head to foot. 'It's not mine,' he said noticing Dumbledore's concerned look. 'I got sprayed when I stabbed Voldemort with this.' He gestured to the sword of Gryffindor that he had dropped when Dumbledore had hugged him.

Dumbledore was flummoxed. 'You stabbed Voldemort?' he asked incredulously.

'Well, there was nobody else here to do it.'

'… Is that my wand?'

Harry looked down at the wand he was clutching. 'Huh, so it is.' He said softly. 'I wondered how I ended up with it, but I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. I used it to summon the sword and stab him.'

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes. Not only was the child unusually chatty but the speech patterns and mannerisms were very familiar….

The boy smiled expectantly. 'Figured it out yet, Albus?'

'Harry,' the old wizard said, surprised. Sitting down properly, he looked at the child once more, utterly dumbfounded. 'What … what happened?'

'Well, I have no idea,' Harry said, sitting down in front of the headmaster cross-legged. 'All I know is one moment I am on my back, my leg's been cut off and my wand's blown up along with my hand.' He grimaced, flexing his whole unblemished right hand. 'You have no idea how much that hurt, by the way. Bastard there cauterised my leg too! And before you say anything, I am actually stating a fact by calling him a bastard. His parents were never married, as far as I know.'

Dumbledore cleared his throat pointedly.

'Right,' Harry said, 'As he was leaning over me contemplating which part of my body he should hack off next, my wand did something funny. I am pretty sure that it dragged my hand up to his face and let loose a big burst of fire that got him good.' He looked at Dumbledore dubiously.

'Wands are known to react in unexpected ways when their master is threatened,' Dumbledore said thoughtfully. 'Your wand, especially, shares or used to share a brother core with Voldemort's wand. I think the night you bested him, your wand may have taken on some of his deadly skill.'

'Interesting,' Harry said, the thoughtful frown looked quite out of place on such a young face. 'Anyway, that just pissed him off more. He sent some spell that blew my hand and wand up. Then he started cursing me with Merlin knows what. At first it hurt, a lot! But then it just stopped hurting and everything went dark. And then … I was looking down from the top of the stairs in my invisibility cloak. It was just like closing your eyes and opening them somewhere entirely different. I wonder if that's what sleep-walking feels like…'

Harry trailed off, looking into the distance. 'So,' he said, shaking himself from his thoughts. 'As I am walking down, I realise that I am way shorter than before. It didn't take me long to figure out I was in my clone's body.

'When I reached the entrance of the drawing room, your wand suddenly appeared in my hand. I peeked in to see that bastard still cursing my body, and let me tell you that is quite disturbing. Anyway, I notice that while the room is all but destroyed, the Sword of Gryffindor was still in its case over the mantelpiece, untouched.'

Harry flexed his left hand. 'This kid sure is talented in magic,' he said admirably. 'I am surprised that he didn't get into more trouble. The instinctual level with which he wields it is amazing! Summoning the sword with this wand or any other wand was never so easy. I doubt I would have been able to do it as well with my old wand!'

Dumbledore tried not to be disturbed by the smile of savage victory that came on Harry's face. That was not an expression that suited a three-year-old.

'He didn't see me coming at all,' Harry said victoriously. 'His reaction to having a sword sticking out of his chest was … quite funny!' He paused thoughtfully. 'You know, for a great big sword, it is surprisingly light! I thought it would have been a bit heavier for a four-year-old.'

Having finished his story, the boy fell back on the floor, stretching his legs out. 'It's over!' he declared. 'Voldemort is gone.' Lifting his head, he asked Dumbledore. 'Any idea how I ended up in this body? I must say I thought I was a goner for sure! My mother told me that the blood protection means that Voldemort himself could never kill me, no matter how many times he tried. But honestly, how does one come back to life when they are decapitated?!'

Dumbledore pensively stroked his beard. 'Do you remember what I told you about the circumstances resulting in Harry's discovery?'

'Yes,' Harry said, frowning. 'They promised not to kill him, er, me, if we didn't blab about the whole thing to anyone, mainly the press. You managed to twist their arm more by having everything related to Harry being made destroyed including the memories of the people working in the project.'

'Yes. While we managed to get everyone, the lead researcher, a Miss Senna managed to escape us. She eventually died, due to a tragic accident. When I was being appraised of that news, Croaker told me something disturbing. He said that Little Harry had no soul, no sense of self.

'At first I dismissed his words out of hand, but then I got to thinking … the boy had never shown any true sense of self. He was far too quiet for someone of his age. Unnaturally so. The only time he was active or behaving like a regular child was when he was around you.' The headmaster paused, considering his next words. 'What was telling was how he gravitated towards you and wouldn't let anyone touch him but you. You were also the only person he spoke to at all.'

Harry thought about this. 'What about the incident in your office?' he said. 'He was nowhere near me then.'

'That did throw me initially,' Dumbledore admitted. 'But then I considered the amount of time he spent with you. It is possible that being close to his original, that is you, may have slowly given him that sense of self. It is entirely possible that a bond had formed between the two of you linking you to each other. Why in time, I wager it will be a lot like the bond shared between Voldemort and you until recently. Of course, hopefully without all the … negative connotations.'

'What about Ron? He went to Ron quite readily.'

'I have noticed a pattern when studying the how he interacted with other people,' Dumbledore said at length. 'Tell me, Harry, how do you feel about me, Ron, Mrs Weasley, Hermione and Ginny? Please be honest. I won't hold it against you.'

Harry thought about this. 'Well, with you I feel some, ah, well, trust,' he finally said, feeling a bit uncomfortable. 'You are like a – a mentor of sorts.'

'You honour me.' Dumbledore said heavily. 'And what of the other people I mentioned?'

'Well, Ron is my best friend!' Harry said automatically. 'I've known him the longest. Hermione is also nice, but she tends to be a bit … much … at times. Ginny is … well, I think she is a bit special,' here he blushed.

'Ah,' Dumbledore said with a knowing smile. 'Fair enough, and what of Mrs Weasley?'

'Mrs Weasley? Well, it is a bit complicated …' Harry trailed off. 'She is nice. But she scares me sometimes, you know...?'

'Now think about how Little Harry felt around those same people.'

Harry took a moment. 'He felt the same way,' he said wonderingly. 'Only it was more … extreme with him.'

'Indeed. You were the most comfortable around young Mr Weasley, as was he. The same applies to everyone else. I suspect that he was copying you on some level.'

'He also did everything I told him,' Harry said wonderingly. 'Every damn thing! He whinged, but he obeyed.' He gave a little laugh. 'That explains his desire to go after my Firebolt!'

'He seems to be a reflection of your soul.' Dumbledore said musingly. 'I suspect that it was this bond that allowed you to come back, if you will, in this body. I also believe that the blood protection of your mother's did its job as your mother told you. Instead of returning you to your old body because of the … extensive damage done, it put you in your clone's. You do share the same blood, and the same protection, after all.'

'That is so screwed up,' Harry muttered.

Dumbledore silently agreed with his sentiments. 'If it makes you feel better,' he said tiredly. 'This is just a theory and it is quite possible that I am wildly wrong. I am afraid I won't be able to tell you exactly what happened.' Feeling his legs beginning to cramp up, he laboriously got to his feet. Picking up Rodolphus' old wand, he conjured an armchair. With his beard twitching and his eyes twinkling, he scooped a very surprised Harry up and sank into his seat with a groan, plonking Harry on his lap.

'Why are you doing this?' Harry finally asked, wincing as he noticed for the first time the piping voice of a toddler that was coming out of his mouth.

'Just let me have this moment, Harry,' Dumbledore said heavily his eyes closed as he slowly relaxed into the chair. 'It has been a long day. Besides, you may not appreciate or know this, but you are quite adorable right now. I have long wanted to indulge my grandfatherly feelings towards you, you know.'

'…Thanks…'

'Oh don't be so grumpy! Such an expression doesn't suit a three-year-old!'

'… fine.' Harry snuggled in a little. 'I … kind of like this.' He finally admitted reluctantly. 'It's nice. You stink though.'

'Well, you aren't smelling all that great either,' Dumbledore said lightly.

They sat in companionable silence.

'So how are you feeling, Harry?'

'Albus, I am physically three, how do you think I feel?' Harry sat up, holding his arms out. 'See this? No hair! None. All of that's gone! There is not a single strand of hair anywhere on my body except on my head. My voice sounds like a girl's, and just when I was getting used to not being short and skinny, well, I am back to being short and skinny! I was taller than you just this morning and just a little shorter than Ron! Oh, and if that's not enough, my emotions are all over the place because there's a part of me that's still three.' He crossed his arms and pouted. 'This sucks!'

'If it is any consolation,' Dumbledore said, with a twinkle in his eye, 'Tomorrow you will turn four.'

'I can hardly contain my excitement,' Harry said sardonically. 'How did the battle at Hogsmeade go,' he asked sombrely, half dreading the answer.

The twinkle left Dumbledore's eyes. 'We won, but we suffered many losses,' he said sombrely. 'Out of the casualties, you would know Remus Lupin, Percy Weasley, Rufus Scrimgeour, Ted Tonks and …' his voice grew heavy. 'My brother, Aberforth.'

Harry winced. 'I am sorry to hear about your brother. Say, wasn't he the bartender at The Hog's Head?'

'We were never that close, Harry.' Dumbledore smiled a little sadly. 'Not for many years now. And you are right, he was the bartender at The Hog's Head.'

'I thought he looked familiar,' Harry muttered.

'I never knew Lupin all that well,' he finally said. 'He was quite distant.'

'He was always a private person,' Dumbledore replied distantly. 'Even as a child I found him painfully formal. It might have been a result of his affliction.'

'How is Tonks dealing with it?'

'Nymphadora was well the last time I saw her. But it is too early to tell.'

'And she is carrying Lupin's kid too.'

Dumbledore blinked. 'I'm sorry?'

'Oh,' Harry grimaced. 'I noticed that Lupin and Tonks were attracted to each other. I overheard her talking to Mrs Weasley about it. And in addition to not needing glasses to see, this new body of mine can perceive magic in ways no one else can. He had noticed a change in Tonks the last time she came in but didn't know what it meant. I expect she will figure it out herself later.'

'Extraordinary.'

'Yes … so what now?'

'I don't quite understand.'

'What happens now?' Harry repeated. 'I am for all intents and purposes de-aged. I would have emphatically told you that there is no way I am going back to the Dursleys, but then I remembered the good news you shared with me this morning that Petunia is, thankfully, dead. That means there is no way you can even consider them as an option. Of course, people need to know that Voldemort is gone for good, so what do we tell them without having the Department of Mysteries down our throats.'

'I was thinking about that, actually,' Dumbledore said lightly. 'There are so many ways we can spin it. After all, nobody really knows what happens when a person is struck by the Killing Curse not once or twice but three whole times. Who knows what effect it can have on a person? I doubt there will be anyone out there willing to try, even if they had a deep desire to prove you wrong. It also helps that you haven't really been seen in public for quite a while. I am sure I can spin a convincing tale to persuade the average witch and wizard into believing that you never died, but suffered a … strange magical accident when fighting Voldemort one last time and actually defeating him that lead to your current condition.'

'Ooh,' Harry piped up. 'You can say that the phoenix tears from Fawkes mixed with the basilisk venom from Slytherin's monster and gave me phoenix-like powers, which is why when cursed by a Killing Curse, I rose from the ashes so young!'

As if hearing his name, the aforementioned phoenix poked its head out. The dirty looks the phoenix was giving him was complimented nicely by the flat look on his owner's face.

'I think that would be a hard one to pull off, Harry,' Dumbledore said at length. 'The public aren't that stupid.'

Taking a deep breath, Dumbledore continued. 'As for your living arrangements … well, Harry Potter is technically still alive. I haven't had the opportunity to do anything about your clone's status. I was initially going to invent a Muggle girl who was the mother of your child, but that's not necessary anymore. So you are still a legally emancipated minor as far as the government is concerned. And you will be happy to know that you are still registered being born sixteen years back, so next year, you should be considered a legal adult despite being physically five.'

'You were actually going to do that?!' Harry asked incredulously. 'That is …'

'Convenient,' Dumbledore replied easily. 'It would not have mattered if the girl did not exist, I would have ensured that there was enough of a paper trail to prove that she had lived and possibly died tragically giving birth to your son. The age difference is a bit of a sticking point, but there I have heard of instances in the Muggle world of eleven-year-old boys fathering children. It wasn't a flawless plan, but with a little luck it could work. Thankfully, that isn't an avenue we have to pursue!'

Dumbledore peered at Harry's face. 'I see you have the same scar as in your old body.' He remarked.

'Yeah,' Harry grimaced. 'I am pretty certain that the scar is the reason why Voldemort over there found me. The Department of Mysteries had put a cursed object in my clone's forehead. It was probably designed to track him and tear down any protections around him. Clearly they were thinking of a kidnapping scenario. Considering that Voldemort got his hands on it, I can wager a guess as to what really happened to that Senna woman. I am guessing that the scar design was a personal choice of hers.' He trailed off in disgust.

Dumbledore hummed. 'That is disturbing… do not worry, Harry, I will handle this.' Brightening momentarily, he continued. 'Well, at least the scar will convince people that you are still you and not someone else!'

Harry considered that.

'Can I do my sixth year like was I meant to this year? I don't think I would be up to repeating school. While it is true that Hogwarts has been my home for so long, I don't think I can stomach another bout of learning to swish and flick. Besides, I would probably traumatise the other kids my current physical age. Out of sheer boredom if nothing else.'

Dumbledore considered the request. 'Normally we allow those who are only eleven and above to start school. That is mainly because younger children cannot comprehend the theoretical aspects behind magic as well as older children. You having the mind and experience of a sixteen-year-old would mean that you aren't as limited as an average three, well, now four-year-old.' He paused. 'I think it might be possible. Of course, we will have to closely monitor your health. I do not know if your new body will be up to the task of dealing adequately with the stress your N.E.W.T. years will bring. This is a unique case, after all.'

'Great.' Harry hopped off the chair. 'I suppose I should get a new wand now. Oh, and that reminds me, here.' He held Dumbledore's wand out to the headmaster.

Dumbledore stared at the wand for a very long moment, not making any move to take it. 'Keep it, Harry.' He finally said. 'I think you have a greater use for it anyway.'

'What about you, sir?'

'I have found a suitable replacement,' Dumbledore said taking out an unfamiliar wand and showing it to him. 'It will do.' The smile he gave Harry was so genuine that it seemed to take years off.

Harry smiled back. He looked at the wand that was now his. 'It's a pretty great wand,' he said out loud. 'Even though it looks like a fossilised twig, my magic just seems to flow through it. I wonder what it is made of, though. It feels so powerful.'

'Thestral hair and wood of the elder tree.' Dumbledore said helpfully.

'Ah. Ollivander's?'

'No,' Dumbledore said with a smile. 'I got this wand long before Garrick took over from his father. The wand you hold was made by a very old wand maker who long went out of business.'

'Oh, what was his name?'

'Antioch Peverell.'

'Peverell …' Harry scratched his head. 'That name seems familiar...' He shrugged. 'Anyway, thanks for the wand. It's pretty neat!'

He stowed the elder wand away. 'So … what now?'

'I do believe that the Weasleys and Ms Granger will be congregating at The Burrow. Perhaps we can break the news to them first? Then you could stay with them while I get things sorted out with the Ministry.' He sighed. 'It looks like we'll need another Minister, now.'

'Hopefully that person won't be as bad as Fudge. Although, was Scrimgeour any good?'

'He had his moments. I do believe he was still haunted by the night of Voldemort's reveal. The poor man never got over the fact that he and his people stood by and did nothing while we fought Voldemort. The public certainly hasn't allowed him to forget that.'

Standing up, Dumbledore stretched. With a practised flick of the wand, he vanished the chair he was sitting on. A long sweep had the room repairing itself back to its former glory. Hearing clattering noises coming from outside the drawing room, Harry guessed that the damage to the rest of the house was being repaired as well.

'You think we can continue with the private lessons?' Harry asked curiously in his childlike voice.

Dumbledore looked thoughtfully at him. 'Why not?' he finally said mildly. 'I definitely enjoyed myself. One-on-one instruction is certainly an enjoyable novelty. Now that the spectre of Voldemort is gone, I think I can properly enjoy giving you lessons! Maybe we can even cover the mind arts properly.' Looking outside, he sighed. 'Perhaps I can bow out of being the Chief Warlock and Supreme Mugwump as well. The positions never held any interest for me, and honestly I think I have earned myself a bit of a break.'

'Indeed, sir,' Harry said wholeheartedly.

Taking a deep breath, Dumbledore slowly turned his attention towards the centre of the room where the last two bodies were situated.

'Allow me,' Harry said, aiming his new wand at Voldemort's corpse. He marvelled at how easy it was to move the body. Perhaps it was this body he had. Dumbledore was right when he said that the Unspeakables had made tweaks to ensure that Little Harry was as powerful as possible. Somehow, he felt like he had been given a fresh start. He might explore this body's potential for doing magic without a wand…

He glanced at his old body. Unable to look at it any longer, he vanished it, marvelling at how easy it was to use the vanishing spell now. 'I am going to be having nightmares of that,' he declared. 'What about Dobby and Kreacher? They died heroes, trying to protect me.'

'Yes, they were very brave and noble.' Dumbledore said. 'Do you have anything in mind?'

Harry thought about it. 'Perhaps a funeral and burial outside the house? It is only right…'

'Very well.' Saying so, the headmaster exited the room and returned shortly with two small ornately carved caskets. 'I have placed preserving charms on them, it should hold till tomorrow when we can have a proper burial and funeral if that is your wish?'

Harry nodded.

'Then I shall leave them here for now.' Almost reverently, he placed the caskets side by side near the front door.

'Come, we have an appointment with Molly Weasley and one final task.' Dumbledore held his hand out.

'What's that?' Harry asked, unconsciously holding the headmaster's hand.

'Convincing her not to adopt you as a seventh son.'

The two of them headed towards the newly repaired front door and the setting sun outside.

'Hang on a minute,' Harry extracted his hand from the headmaster's 'Why did I do that?' he muttered to himself confused.

Dumbledore chuckled. 'You were right when you said that your four-year-old self isn't fully gone.'

Taking care of Moody's remains, the two Disapparated from Harry's house to spread word and meet friends.

The celebrations had already begun though. Somehow news of Voldemort's possible demise had already spread. That would soon intensify once it was confirmed.

Harry did not know what the future held, but he knew, at least, that it would be peaceful.

Perhaps his last two years at Hogwarts would be quiet for a change.

'Hello, Saul,'

The softly spoken words were more than enough to bring Saul Croaker to full awareness. With a start, he realised that he was sitting in an armchair in his own drawing room wearing only his underwear.

It wasn't the state of undress that had him concerned, however, for it was about the same time he noticed the restraints placed on him.

'I wouldn't bother struggling, Saul,' said the voice.

Snapping his gaze forward, his face showed his confusion when he identified his captor.

'Dumbledore? What is the meaning of this?!'

'Well,' said the headmaster casually. 'I think it is rather obvious. I am holding you captive and unarmed, after all.'

'How did you get in?'

'Quite easily,' Dumbledore replied dryly. 'The protective charms around your house aren't much of a match for one of my talents. But don't be discouraged, Saul. Few can match me.'

Unnerved, Croaker looked at the headmaster properly. He had thought that he would never see the otherwise kindly and slightly dotty headmaster look so dangerous after that meeting so many weeks back. He wasn't happy to see it again. 'W-what do you want?' he asked slowly.

'Well,' Dumbledore said with a disarming smile that did nothing to ease the dread Croaker was feeling. 'Over the past several weeks, I have had the opportunity to see for myself the true face of the Department of Mysteries and the man who is in charge. And I must admit my findings concern me greatly.'

'So you came here to ascertain the truth?' Croaker asked derisively. 'I have already told you all I know!'

'Ah?' Dumbledore said softly. 'But that was voluntarily! When you could choose what to tell me and what to keep out. Well, this time, especially after … recent events, I am not going to be giving you that choice.' Saying so, he reached into his robes and retrieved an opaque phial. 'No, I find that I cannot trust you to have told me all of the truth considering that a young man's life hangs in the balance, and the knowledge you undoubtedly have.'

'What is that, Veritaserum?' Saul scoffed. 'Like that will work.' He started immediately shoring up his willpower to resist the potion. Long practice with resisting it had made it more than easy.

'Oh, this thing?' Dumbledore said brightly. 'No, no, no! This is a special concoction of mine, created not through the discipline of Potions, but Alchemy.' With a tap of his wand, the stopper flew out. The opaqueness of the container meant that Saul couldn't tell what the contents within looked like, but he could see that they let off a bright yellow light that bathed Dumbledore's face rather ominously.

'You can't do this!' Saul said, panicked. 'This is illegal!'

'Well, you will find that I, in fact, can,' Dumbledore said cheerfully. 'After all, "can" according to the English Language, is a function of ability. The question you should be asking is whether I should. And, well, there are a lot of things people should not be doing. I certainly shouldn't be feeding you experimental alchemical concoctions, even if there is no law specifically forbidding it. But then, you shouldn't have been cloning humans without their knowledge or permission … so here we are.'

The headmaster stood up and leaned over the hapless man. Resistance was futile as the old man's magic was more than up to the task of forcing Saul's mouth open. A bright luminescent drop of liquid, glowing like the sun, poured out of the phial, floated till it was above Saul's mouth and dived in.

The liquid burned as it travelled down Saul's oesophagus. Looking down at his bare chest, he could see a bright light marking the passage of what he had ingested as it reached his stomach. The light then spread through his entire body, taking all conscious thought from him.

Soon enough, he was singing like a canary, candidly and truthfully answering all of Dumbledore's questions with exacting detail, with very little probing.

'Thank you, Saul,' Dumbledore said pleasantly once the man regained his wits. 'I hope you enjoyed the experience of this libation of mine. It is too bad that you won't be remembering anything of our little tête-à-tête.' Saying so, he pointed his wand and said 'Obliviate.'

With expertise borne of years of practising magic, Albus wiped clean every little detail from Saul Croaker's mind pertaining to the project, and Harry Potter. As he suspected, the man knew quite a bit of the cloning process. Enough to restart it once again. This wasn't something he could allow to happen ever again. He also couldn't allow for the boy to be snatched up by the Department for "experiments" in the future either.

Done with the memory charm, Dumbledore retrieved the hidden documented research, using the knowledge he had gained from Saul. With a sigh, he left the house.

He had two more people to see to before the night was over. Two more people to take care of before Harry was well and truly safe.

It was high time the Department of Mysteries got a thorough cleaning, anyway.

And here we go, the final chapter and my take on another popular concept in this fandom: Harry getting de-aged/thrown into a younger version of his body.

Thoughts?

Anyway, till the epilogue!