Disclaimer: I obviously don't own the idea of Harry Potter or any of the money making forms of it.

A/N: Well, this part was veryvery hard to write. It took me sometime to decide what I wanted to have happen, and even then I was being torn between two or three routes. Well, I finally selected one and went with it, as it seemed to be the best choice and the most realistic. Hope it meets/exceeds your expectations...


- - - Book 4 — Part 9: The End and Start of Things

Crack!

Dumbledore appeared in the center of the chamber, the entire place in shambles, but that didn't concern him. Pausing just for a moment, he spotted Voldemort in a heap on the floor, very clearly and utterly dead.

Voldemort had finally been defeated. The war was finally truly over.

It was surreal.

Dumbledore mentally shook himself before he turned, hearing a strangled moan behind him.

For what he was about to see in that moment would remain forever clearly etched in his memory. No pensieve would ever need to be used for him to recall every detail.

"Oh Merlin," he breathed, his eyes falling on a form, way too small to be Mage, resting against the collapsed half wall. Blood was gathering on the floor at his side, a smudged red mirror held loosely in his little hand.

Harry?

Dumbledore felt as if his entire body had been dumped in ice water and shaken violently before being tightly squeezed.

Harry was not dead.

Miraculously, he had not been consumed in the fiendfyre as Voldemort had shown and claimed.

Somehow, he had gotten away, tricking Voldemort into believing he was actually dead, before returning and defeating him . . .

. . . as Mage.

Suddenly, all the things that had been bothering him all year fell into place, before those thoughts, just as quickly, were slammed aside by overwhelming concern and fear, as well as unbelievable gratefulness and hope.

Hurrying forward and going to his knees, paying no mind to the fact that blood was now seeping into his robes, he leaned closer to Harry, his wand instantly in his right hand as his left went to Harry's bloody side.

"'M sorry I didn' tell you sooner," Harry managed regretfully.

"Shhh . . . I understand, my boy. Like you said, it was complicated." Dumbledore barely managed to keep his voice level. There was a lot of blood and Harry's color was fading right before his eyes. And why did he look so heart-wrenchingly young? "Now just hold still as I try to stop the bleeding," Dumbledore said, pulling up Harry's shirt to get to the wound.

Trying not to flinch from the pain, Harry remained as still as he could, not that he really could have moved much anyway.

"You've lost a lot of blood, Harry," Dumbledore said, frowning at the still bleeding wound. It was just over an inch wide and a few millimeters thick. He didn't know how deep it was. He reached in his robes and pulled out some shrunken vials. Unshrinking them, he helped Harry drink them. "I've slowed the bleeding, but I can't get it to close for some reason."

"The blade was cursed an' poisoned. Riddle still has it," Harry stated, feeling a little better as the potions went to work.

Dumbledore looked over to Voldemort's body.

He waved his wand and quietly cast a special form of accio. Harry had never heard that spell before. Suddenly, the blade in Voldemort's hand soared toward Dumbledore, before stopping and hovering within his reach.

Dumbledore then waved his wand again, muttering an analyzing spell. He hummed slightly in an irritated fashion as he seemed to gather an understanding of the blade's nasty attributes.

"I think I'll place this in one of my secure pockets," Dumbledore said, and he did just that without touching it.

Harry didn't ask questions, like how Dumbledore could be so sure it wouldn't just stab through the fabric. He was Dumbledore, sometimes things just were.

"I used a lot of my Makra in the duel." Harry paused to breathe. Dumbledore patiently waited. "And to fight off the curse and poison."

"I'm not detecting any poison in your wound, but I can feel the curse's dark residue." Dumbledore's eyes narrowed in thought as he stared at the wound. "I'm going to take care of it here," he stated decidedly before looking up and meeting Harry's eyes. "What I'm about to do will be considered Dark Magic, Harry. I assume you trust me as much as I trust you?"

"Yes."

"Then look away now. It will be better for you not to see."

Harry nodded.

"This will be unpleasant, but I see no alternative. I will be as swift as I can," Dumbledore said, shifting forward before bracing his right arm across Harry's chest to pin him while his left hand remained against the still bleeding slit.

Harry turned his head away as he braced himself for whatever Dumbledore was going to do. With his left hand, he took hold of Dumbledore's right sleeve and closed his eyes.

"On the count of three, hold your breath and don't release it until I say." Dumbledore rotated his wand in his right hand to point at his left hand pressing against the trickling wound. "One, two, three."

Harry choked in a breath of air and held it as he felt warm magic surge into his side, saturating the wound before tightening, sharply and painfully. All the while, Dumbledore was muttering Latin under his breath, and pressing his right arm against Harry's chest.

An instant later, there was a great tug, Dumbledore pulling his left hand away with a concentrated purpose. It hurt, but the relief that flooded Harry far outweighed all the discomfort, much like a large splinter that has finally been removed.

"Breathe now, it's over, Harry. How do you feel?" Dumbledore said, relaxing his hold of him.

Harry opened his eyes and turned back. His wound had closed over, a pink scar in its place.

"Much better," he answered, before looking at Dumbledore's left hand.

It of course was red with Harry's blood, but hovering above his palm was a hideous black rock. It wasn't spherical, but jagged and rough. Harry knew, from Voldemort's memories, a rock like that could be used multiple times to curse many others, or be used to make a deadly potion that could be dumped into a water supply to do even more harm. The only reason Voldemort hadn't done such a thing was because he didn't know how to make the cursed rock.

But Dumbledore did.

He knew how to extract and solidify this sort of curse.

Harry was happy to watch Dumbledore destroy the thing with a wave his wand, making it crack and crumble into ashes. They then just sat there for several seconds after that. For anyone else, the moment would have likely been awkward, but, for Harry and Albus, it was just quiet.

"I feel it is time for us to leave, Harry. The Minister, and the Ministry for that matter, is likely wondering what is going on."

"I doubt they would be able to deal with knowing the whole truth," Harry said, motioning to himself.

"I must agree with you there, so, if you would permit me, I will perform the necessary charms," he said, already lifting his wand.

Harry held up his hand, his cheeks still pale, though he was regaining some color from the blood replenishing potion. Dumbledore paused, curious, as Harry went for a pouch on his belt and pulled out . . . a pill? Harry put it in his mouth and swallowed it.

Dumbledore could only stare in fascination as Harry morphed into Mage right before his eyes.

"We use charms and makeup for anything the polyjuice-glamour pill misses, but I've made Mage's appearance as simple as possible so the pill takes care of most of it all now," Harry said, of course talking in Mage's voice now as he cast the finishing touches with his right hand.

"Amazing. Do all Custosae use this pill?" Dumbledore asked, now helping Mage get to his feet.

"Most of them," Mage answered, not really knowing if he should elaborate or not.

Dumbledore nodded slowly. Harry could see that the wheels were turning in his mind before he shook himself and grew serious. "I should warn you, everyone thinks you're dead."

"Because I went missing?"

"Voldemort sent a projected message to several places. It included what happened in Godric's Hollow."

"I flamed away. I think I actually might have had some sort of forced burning day," Mage replied, now on his feet but slightly supported by Dumbledore.

Dumbledore's eyes widened. "That would explain your younger appearance. You've resorted back to the moment phoenix makra first entered your core. You're physically just over twelve and a half years old now."

"Am I going to have to age from here? Or will I be back to normal in a few weeks like how Fawkes ages?"

"I don't know, Ha-Mage. You're not exactly a phoenix, but then, you're more than a wizard."

"Hmm, well I guess being a little younger beats being dead."

Dumbledore smiled. "Shall we then?" he asked, looking to the door still coated in the golden light from the ward.

Mage looked down at the mirror in his hand. "I won't be going through the door when I leave."

"Then why-?" Dumbledore began to say before he realized exactly why Harry had changed into Mage.

Mage looked at the mirror. "Custosae and Amici." The mirror flared, activating and alerting all mirror holders of Mage's call.

O o O o O

It had been fifteen minutes since all of Voldemort's forces had surrendered, the Inferi and other dark forces having been previously eliminated by the combined efforts of Amici, Aurors, and civilians.

Arthur Weasley looked around, surprised to find that Hogsmeade had only suffered minor damage. The Aurors had been called, and the streets were now full of them.

He was in shock, to be honest. In less than an hour, he had been witness to Voldemort's projected declaration of his victory over Harry Potter, the attack on Hogsmeade (while knowing there were several other places under attack), and the surrender of dozens of death eaters.

He didn't know what had caused that, but if rumors were to be believed, Mage had appeared at the Ministry and had engaged Voldemort in combat. Had the fight ended? Was that what had caused the mass surrender of Voldemort's forces?

Arthur was about to approach one of the aurors who had just finished speaking with a shopkeeper when he felt his mirror activate. He hurriedly pulled it out as he went to a secluded alley.

Mage.

"Custosae, Amici, and honored allies," Mage greeted. He was clearly tired and his cheeks were pale, but his eyes held a glow of power and joy. The unmistakable hand of Albus Dumbledore was on his right shoulder, and he seemed to be within the chamber of the Wizengamot. "Voldemort is dead. He can no longer hurt the Wizarding World or endanger her future, for the future is our own, just as it has always been. Let us make it better than our past to prevent another Dark Lord from ever rising again.

"With that said, as some of you have learned, Harry Potter was not killed, but managed to escape through a fortunate burst of accidental magic and arrived in the presence of Custosae allies. He is currently in a safe location and being looked after. I felt it best to inform you of this personally for I understand his wellbeing is a concern to many."

Through grateful watering eyes, Arthur saw Dumbledore's hand tighten slightly on Mage's shoulder. He was so happy with the news that Harry was alive he almost missed the blood smear across Dumbledore's hand. He frowned.

"Hermit, pull the Custosae back after delivering Harry to Hogwarts through the usual means of our travel. Grim (Sirius), I'm sure your presence will be welcome at Hogwarts. Lioness (Augusta Longbottom), Torch (Arthur), Dug (Amos Diggery), Lone Lantern (Amelia Bones), Cheshire (McGonagall), and Iron Man (Kingsley), I leave the news of all this to be spread by your and Long Beard's discretion.

"Rook (Griphook), tell your people the war is over. I have not forgotten my promise. Little John (Hagrid), send word to our other allies and express my thanks to them once again," Mage said, conscious of the fact his words were likely being heard by more than just Custosae members and allies now. "I am not sure when I will show myself again, but I will at least once more. There is still work to be done, but for now, bask in the fact this war is over.

"We are a formation of defenders."

He severed the connection.

O o O o O

Albus remained where he was as he watched Mage, well . . . Harry, place the mirror in his inner vest pocket. He honestly didn't know what to feel. He could tell that Harry was afraid he was angry or something, but he really wasn't. He wasn't even all that sad. He was confused.

He was of course eternally grateful that Harry was alive and even more thankful Voldemort could no longer hurt anyone. And the fact that it was Harry who had accomplished the task made it all even more astounding, especially considering how he had done it.

Under the guise of Mage.

In four years, this child had managed to do what he had been unable to do. He had knocked some sense into the Wizarding World, something Albus had been trying to do for decades. He had rattled some cages, lit fire under many toes, and had reminded the world true power did not lie within magic or blood, but one's character. And not only that, he had brought about the downfall of one of the worst Dark Lords in over a century.

Albus remained silent, his hand still on Mage's shoulder.

"A-Albus?" Mage asked, clearing his throat.

Albus shook himself, realizing he had been standing there in silence for well over fifteen seconds.

"Forgive me. I am an old man lost in his thoughts." He smiled, having to remind himself the man he was looking at was Harry, and not simply Mage.

But Harry was Mage, just as Mage was Harry. As he would say, their moral fiber was one in the same. They had the same goals, temperament, and power. They were one person. The only thing that truly set them apart was their appearance — the way the world perceived them. The way he, Albus, had perceived them.

Admittedly, Albus looked to Mage as a mentor, an equal, a superior. Mage was, and is, those three combined and much more to him. It had been well over a century since he could honestly say he wanted someone's approval, someone's pride and respect. He wondered if Harry, as Mage, knew how important he was to him.

But it didn't just end there.

For the past year, he had wondered how Harry and his friends always somehow knew things, things only Custosae and Amici adults should have been aware of. It suddenly made so much sense, especially with the rescue of Neville's grandmother from the Riddle House. That had been when his suspicions had truly started; though, not long after he had first spoken with Mage over the mirror, a feeling he couldn't place had surfaced. But now he knew what that feeling had been.

Familiarity.

That was why it had been so easy to trust Mage. That was why he had not been as cautious or suspicious as he probably should have been. Perhaps it had been his magic, his subconscious, or even his chakra that had recognized a glimmer of the truth.

That Mage could be trusted . . . because he already knew him; already trusted him.

It was strange, to say the least, but now that he knew the truth, he wondered why it had surprised him so much. There had been plenty of clues, and, looking back, it was clear, at least on some level, Harry/Mage had wanted him to figure it out. It also explained how Mage knew so much about Voldemort. Before, Albus had thought Mage had learned some of his information through the memories Harry had of Voldemort. How close to the truth he had been. . . .

-Pop-

The sudden appearance of a small fuzzy object at Mage's feet broke Albus out of his reverie.

"Teddy!" Mage said, elated.

"You're okay!" Teddy cried, leaping up and somehow easily being caught by Mage.

"I am. Just tired," Mage answered.

"Ah, I would, however, like for you to see Madam Pomfrey at the very least, just to be certain," Dumbledore interrupted, though his eyes were staring at Teddy in curiosity.

"I doubt she would just let me go to Gryffindor Tower without examining me anyways," Mage stated, before muttering a word Dumbledore was unable to catch. And just like that, Mage was gone and Harry was standing beside him. "I'm glad Hermit got the underlying message and sent Teddy to me."

"Is Teddy how you and the others have been traveling?" Dumbledore asked.

"A little bit. In the summer before second year, Dobby accidently gave me his ability to pop. Then with the bond forming between me and Draco, I gave it to him, and then when I created Teddy. . . ."

"Ah, I see. And now?"

"After I gained Makra, I lost that ability. Though Draco and Teddy still have it."

"Extraordinary," he said, before continuing after a pause. "Well, I believe it time for me to go out and explain some of what has happened. I will also assure them Mage is alright."

Harry nodded.

"I think I'll wait in your office then."

Dumbledore peering over his glasses at him. "When I return you are going to the infirmary."

Harry nodded, giving Teddy a slight pat on his fuzzy back.

"Harry," Dumbledore said, just before Teddy was going to pop. Harry looked up and met his eyes. Dumbledore took a moment, as if to collect himself. "You've become much more than even I had ever expected you to be. You have surpassed the unfair expectations set upon you the moment Riddle cast that curse upon you. Whether or not the world ever learns the true identity of Mage, you are capable of doing whatever you want with your life. I am proud to be a part of it."

"Thank you, sir."

-Pop-

The golden ward fell.

O o O o O

Two Days Later

Minister Fudge leaned back in his office chair.

He had already attended eight celebration parties because of the war's end. Though, he knew that number would soon be dwarfed by the number of trials he would preside over for the death eaters that had all surrendered. He was not looking forward to that, but it had to be done.

Word that Harry Potter had survived spread like wildfire, and it had not taken long for the political pressure on him to heighten to the point he deemed it necessary to go to Hogwarts and check on Harry himself.

Dumbledore, as always, had kept Harry away from prying eyes, stating he was fine but needed rest. It was not that Fudge or anyone else thought him a liar, but they were under intense scrutiny that they had to have proof. Dumbledore, Fudge knew, understood this. After all, Voldemort had provided 'proof' of Harry Potter's death. To counter it, and undermine it, solid proof was needed to show the public the truth.

Fudge received permission from Dumbledore to visit Hogwarts, though under strict conditions. Only Fudge and three others approved by Dumbledore were allowed to come. Fudge selected Madam Bones, Augusta Longbottom, and a reporter by the name of Bristol McThornbody.

Mr. McThornbody was a scrawny, straightforward guy with a sharp and honest tongue. He came highly recommended, despite his occasional bouts of brashness. Looking back, the man did a good job asking questions and getting the necessary answers from Harry, Dumbledore, and Mr. Black.

They had just returned from that enlightening visit. He wondered how soon the Wizarding World would heave a sigh of relief once they read the interview with Harry Potter by Mr. Bristol McThornbody.

Evidently, Harry's magic had had a surge, whisking him away from the danger. Though this was rare, his medical history supported this story, as his magic had become chaotic and then had morphed into a different force after undergoing special treatment done by a man named Mako, a respected expert in the field of obscure magic and chakra (whatever that was). All of that was briefly explained, but the specific details of where Harry had ended up and stayed before returning to Hogwarts remained classified. Fudge was not bothered with that at all. He had gotten what he had needed. Verification that Harry Potter was alive and well.

That boy certainly had a bright future ahead of him, and with his straightforwardness and no nonsense attitude, he could very well one day become Minister himself.

Fudge smiled.

Many people were claiming that Cornelius Fudge was the best Minister the Wizarding World had seen since before the Goblin Wars. His willingness to work with others fighting the Dark Lord had won the people over, and the fact that he agreed with Mage and helped in fighting the corruption within the Ministry only improved his ratings. Though, Fudge was not concerned with ratings. He was looking far more into the future.

Decades after he would retire from his office, future Ministers would be compared to Cornelius Fudge. Ministers in the coming generations would even model themselves after him. Changing what clearly needed to be changed, while keeping the morals and traditions that had created the foundations of their society firmly intact.

His family name had now entered an age of respect and honor because he had listened to that boy two years ago in the hospital wing of Hogwarts.

He would never forget that.

O o O o O

Later the following week

Harry reclined back in a chair in the headmaster's office.

Things had finally calmed enough for the Custosae to begin working again, and though it seemed their work was done, Harry decided Mage had one last thing to do.

Looking at recent events, Harry was quite pleased with how the Wizarding World was doing, especially where the Ministry was concerned. Laws and procedures were being reexamined, trials were being given to those who had surrendered immediately after Voldemort's demise, and old trials and cases were being reopened due to new evidence that was cropping up from those death eater trials.

Many things were happening. But the biggest thing had yet to come.

The goblins had prepared a petition, along with the giants, werewolves, centaurs, pixies, and, yes, even the house elves. The petition listed unfair laws within the Ministry that they wanted to be changed and/or removed. It also consisted of old treaties they wished to be reinstated, and codes of conduct between the Ministry and Magical Creatures they felt should be adjusted or rectified. And since every word had been run past Mage and Hermit, every request was reasonable and written in a passive but straightforward voice. Mage and Hermit had also written a seventh appeal. One long overdue.

It had all taken a few days, but with the help of Dobby, Kreacher, Fawkes, Teddy and others, communication between the magical creature nations and communities had gone smoothly. Evidently, the leaders were more than willing to get straight off to work when Mage was the one requesting their participation. Also, seeing the Goblins and Centaurs completely behind it helped as well. It was a clear indication that true change was coming.

Finally, to make it even more official, every single petition from each nation/community had the seal of the Custosae at the bottom, just above Mage's signature.

Harry smiled, glancing down at his hands.

He was almost back to normal. It would probably be sometime the following week before he was physically as old as he should be, but he was close enough not to attract attention now. Though, thanks to the polyjuice-glamour pill, it didn't really matter. Just before Fudge had come to Hogwarts with Madam Bones, Augusta Longbottom, and Bristol McThornbody, he had taken to using the polyjuice-glamour pill to resort back to his correct physical age. Before, Harry was resting and not seeing anyone outside the Custosae and high ranking Amici (such as Dumbledore).

Harry glanced at the clock on Dumbledore's desk. He knew Dumbledore was already there, and the representatives he had requested were on their way to the meeting. It was time for him to go.

Standing up, he took a polyjuice-glamour pill before waving his hand over himself. The Wizarding World would remember this day, just as they would remember all the other days Mage had made an appearance.

Mage vanished in a column of fire.

O o O o O

Chamber of the Wizengamot

That day's meeting had no specific goals or matters, but was open ended, so that any problems could be brought up and discussed. After all of the trials and dealing with the aftermath of the war, it had been decided such a meeting was necessary, for if such a meeting had been held at the end of the first war with Voldemort, many problems could have been avoided.

"The floor is open," Fudge began, after the beginning formalities of that day's meeting had finished.

Dumbledore stood up.

"My fellow members, I have been asked to hold the floor until…" he looked at his watch. "Well, now."

He sat back down, to the bewilderment of all present, but before anyone could ask him what this was about, the doors of the Wizengamot opened, and a pillar of fire erupted in the center of the chamber.

Before panic could ensue, the pillar of fire formed into a man. A man they all recognized and respected.

"Forgive me for my brisk entrance," Mage stated as several individuals continued to pour in from the entrance.

Two centaurs, three goblins, one pixie, two house elves, and four men. The two centaurs appeared imposing, but nonthreatening. Two of the goblins were Noble Guards, on either side of a third, more impressive goblin. She was dauntingly beautiful (for a goblin), and clothed in golden cloth. The pixie was hovering beside the centaurs, looking quite old and frail. The two house elves were small and silent, but they were standing tall. The four men were quite normal looking, though two of them appeared rather worn.

Slowly, they went down to where Mage was and held out seven official looking scrolls. With a wave of his hand, Mage magicked them through the air and set them down in front of the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.

"Those behind me are representatives of their respected nations and communities. As you can see, the scrolls are petitions created by the Centaur, Goblin, and Pixie Nations, and the House Elf, Werewolf, and Giant communities. The seventh is from a group part of our own community — Muggleborns. I request the Wizengamot examine these pages and vote on the issues within. For too long the Wizarding World has held onto the premise that Witches and Wizards are the supreme magical beings, rather than recognizing that there is no such thing.

"Now, I understand that change takes time. A society cannot be expected to embrace new, or rather forgotten, ideas overnight. This is why I have proposed this, and why the magical beings with me have come here today.

"Since the defeat of Voldemort, here in this room I might add, and even before that, I have been pleased with the progress I have seen within the leadership and network of the Ministry and the Wizarding World. But the progress must not stop there. We have a chance to shape the future of the Wizarding World to such an extent that can only be compared to the advancement brought about by Merlin himself a millennia ago.

"You have a chance to do what very few generations are given the chance to even attempt. You have a chance to bring about a new, brighter era. An age of respect and honor.

"Darkness cannot thrive in a society open to truth and fairness; it cannot take hold of people grounded in the love and care of others; and it cannot survive among those who, not only hope for a better future, but peruse it.

"Make a future where this is so.

"I only have one last thing I hope to do while I'm here, so I will leave you now, with the future in your hands."

And so, with all eyes on him, he morphed into fire and collapsed into a fine point, leaving them with the seven scrolls bearing his mark and the twelve representatives with his blessing.

O o O o O

The meeting ended with a plan for several more meetings to commence within the following months. Each would focus on a given petition and would lay the foundation of how the magic community would join hands and form a new society of understanding and cooperation between all beings of magic.

During the end of summer, the last meeting was concluded. It would mark the end of Mage's Revolution and the start of the Golden Age. Coming out of the chamber of the Wizengamot, the members, and all those who were now heading home from the Ministry, went into the Atrium of the Ministry. What they found would set the tone for the future they were in the process of making.

The Fountain of Magical Brethren had been changed.

Gone was the self glorifying witch and wizard at the center with the goblin, house elf, and centaur beaming up at them. Its center was now made up of children and the young of goblins, centaurs, pixies, giants, and house elves playing on a magical playground. Water was spouting up from the ground and outlets set in the playground structure, raining down on their golden forms. Around the back portion of the wide platform were adult statues, human and otherwise, standing side-by-side, looking proudly at the scene before them.

Awed by the structure and astonished it had somehow been reformed without anyone noticing before this, their eyes finally zeroed in on a beige note secured at the front rim over the monument's blank plaque.

Dumbledore, being the least surprised with the complete overhaul of the golden monument, stepped forward and removed the note before reading it aloud.

"Due to the changes that have recently risen, I was able to carry out the last thing I had hoped to accomplish. This monument, once a hideous display of superiority and misplaced pride, is now a tribute to what can and should be. A future of brotherhood and every being's true purpose — to leave an undying legacy in our children.

I give you, the Fountain of Our Legacy.

-Mage"

Upon finishing the short note, the plaque shimmered and the words 'The Fountain of Our Legacy' were etched onto its surface.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, most around him struggling back tears as they continued to take in the masterpiece before them.

Thus marked the end and start of many things.

O o O o O


A/N: The next and last part should answer many questions concerning Harry's future and that of the Wizarding World. It will also further sum up what the others know about Mage and Harry.

Next Part: Epilogue