Ron was not a person who liked to show fear very much. That wasn't to say he wasn't a person who got scared. He'd been terrified quite a bit over the years. Having to stand there helplessly as an enchanted chess piece clobbered him over the head. Walking into a nest of gigantic spiders. Coming face to face with a supposed mass murderer. But he did not like to show it. He was, at his core, a prideful individual. It was a weakness of his, he had to concede it. But nowadays, he just had so very much to get scared of that it was hard to pretend he wasn't scared.

Gellert Grindelwald was in Hogwarts and treating the place as his personal playground. He had possessed the strongest light wizard in recent memory. He had twisted Ron's mind like it was saltwater taffy. He had turned Mum into a horrible caricature of herself, which had driven Ginny away from home. He was an evil, ruthless, manipulative killer, and they did not know his plan, and for all Ron knew, Lady Malfoy's shields could fail at any time and Ron could become an unwitting traitor once again.

Having Hermione as his girlfriend definitely helped blunt the fear, but there was only so much she could do to help, since their relationship had to be a secret. Ron's plan to make sure Grindelwald didn't get his hands on him again was to act like an utter jackass in public, a person who made the old Draco look like, well, the new Draco. And it was disturbing how easy it was. Ron knew there was a lot of ugliness buried deep within him. He'd always known that. It was his first instinct to respond to any provocation, even slight or, in some cases, imaginary, in an overwhelming, disproportional fashion. Insults, fists, spells, Ron could dish them all out at his worst.

He was a jealous individual at times. It was hard not to be when everyone seemed to have it better than him. Hermione with her brains. Harry with his fame. Percy with what appeared to be more of their parents' love. Ron's innermost thoughts sometimes churned with rage and hatred, and it sometimes took a great deal to overcome them. Ron didn't think there was anything special about that. (At least, he hoped not, though sometimes he wondered if his worst impulses had been exacerbated or even implanted by Grindelwald.) But that's not the same as saying he liked it.

So, yes, as it turned out, it was much easier than Ron would have liked for it to be to come up with insults and hatred and letting loose with all of his darker thoughts and impulses. A part of him even liked it. There was certainly something satisfying about punching Nott, pervert that he was, in the face. But it wasn't just bullying Slytherins he took his wrath out on. It was his friends. They all knew it was faked, but the pain it caused wasn't. Ron let loose with everything he'd been hiding deep within him, and…it kind of felt good?

But as therapeutic as it may have been to let loose with his darker impulses, Ron continued to keep control over himself and remember that it was, in the end, just an act in the service of a…well, not a greater good; that phrase was tainted forever. It was a necessary evil, that's what it was. Yes. That sounded right. And Ron did feel shame. He did not like seeing the pain on his friends' faces. He did not like the fact everyone thought so badly of him. But it was necessary to defeat a Dark Lord, and so it had to be done.

Ron continued to covertly aid Harry in the planning for the Second Task as the weeks passed by. In theory, the plan was brilliant and, if executed perfectly, could get them most of what they wanted. In practice, Ron could think of hundreds of ways it could go very, very wrong. The list of possible failures was vast. Harry could end up dead for real. They could be wrong about the loophole they'd found and Harry could wind up without his soul. They could be arrested for treason and/or hostage taking. Grindelwald could figure out the plan and kill them. Or any combination of the above!

"Ron, breathe!" Hermione urged him. The two of them had found an isolated corner of the castle, planning to get some snogging time in during the evening before the task, but Ron was just too panicky to focus on just about anything, let alone kissing his girlfriend. "You're not going to be of any help to Harry in the hospital wing."

"I mean, I might," Ron said, trying for levity and failing abysmally. "He probably wouldn't try to read my mind in a coma." They'd all agreed to avoid mentioning Grindelwald's name unless they were entirely positive they couldn't be overheard, which basically meant only when they were in the Chamber of Secrets.

Hermione gave him an annoyed look. It was nice, in a way, to get that look. It was a sign their relationship hadn't changed too fundamentally with it turning romantic. Hermione was her same, regular self. The self Ron adored, even when it meant she was pissed at him. "Ron, you know that's not happening anymore. You haven't been summoned since the Yule Ball."

Ron could not hide the shudder he involuntarily gave. The thought of how thoroughly Grindelwald had subverted him still filled him with shame and disgust. After Grindelwald was defeated, he knew he was going to have to get treated at St. Mungo's, as loathe as he was to admit he needed help. But Hermione was right. Harry had charmed the Marauder's Map to chime if Ron so much as left his bed during the night and so far, it had been entirely silent.

"I don't care if he hurts me, but I can't stand the thought of being used to hurt any of you," Ron admitted. "Especially you, Hermione. You mean so much to me."

Hermione gave a huge grin. Ron loved her smile. He'd seen so little of it recently with matters so grim. "Oh, you're so sweet. But, Ron, you have nothing to worry about. I'm absolutely certain our plan is going to work. He probably knows nothing of Muggle technologies, at least not ones like this. Now, it sounds to me like you could use a distraction…"

Ron nodded eagerly. Hermione puckered her lips. "Looks like great minds think alike," a voice drawled from behind them. Ron let out a yell of frustration as he turned around to see a shameless Draco and a not quite so shameless looking Harry. Harry gave an awkward wave.

"Shove off, Malfoy," Ron said roughly. "Sorry, Harry," he added in a much gentler tone, "but we were here first."

Draco smirked. "Oh, no problem there, Ron. I may not have a grudge against you two anymore, but the last thing I want is to see you lock your tonsils together."

"I am so sorry about this," Harry managed to get out after some ineffectual spluttering.

Hermione smiled slightly. "Well, there are only so many dead zones in the castle." Ron and Draco shared a silent look of pure confusion. The two of them may not have had much in common, but they did have the experience of having significant others who were raised by Muggles and made strange references on a regular basis. "But Ron is right. And, no offense, Harry, but Draco's also right – I don't want to see you two kiss either."

Harry nodded slowly. "You're absolutely certain the loophole's going to work?"

"I wouldn't take risks with your soul, Harry," Hermione said, sounding offended. "You know me better than that."

Capturing the imposter who had put Harry's name in the Goblet of Fire had been a major victory for them, but it was soon followed by a massive defeat. Crouch had killed himself by bashing his head against the trunk's walls before Moody could extract much in the way of useful intelligence from him. However, he was able to ascertain that Crouch had used a piece of homework with Harry's name written on it to function as the entry for the Goblet of Fire.

But Crouch had failed to realize one thing. While Harry Potter may have been the name Harry used, it was not his full legal name. He was not legally Harry Potter, but Hadrian Potter. And as such, the Goblet of Fire hadn't been able to bind him in the contract. Harry had never been obligated to participate in the tournament. And as such, if he didn't participate in the third task because everyone assumed he was dead, there would be no consequences. If only they'd realized this earlier!

"Hermione's right," Draco said, scowling fiercely as he said the words. "We've done our research. There's historical precedent for people putting in the wrong name. It nullifies the contract. You could just waltz out now, but we need the Dark Lord to think you're dead." The Dark Lord in this case being Grindelwald, but of course anyone overhearing would assume they meant Voldemort. "I still think we should tell my mother," he added.

Ron shook his head firmly. "Absolutely not. I told you, we can't put her at risk."

It was a lie, and everyone, including Draco, knew it was. The real reason they hadn't informed Lady Malfoy about Grindelwald's true identity wasn't because they wanted to avoid putting her life in danger. No, it was because they were scared she might decide to join him instead of fighting him. After all, they had largely the same ideals: the subjugation of the Muggles and the superiority of mages. Lady Malfoy had thrown her weight behind one Dark Lord; who was to say she wouldn't do the same to another one? Lady Malfoy and Grindelwald alone were terrifying threats. Together, they'd be utterly, completely unstoppable. So, no, it was best she was kept in the dark as much as possible. Everyone knew it, even if they were pretending otherwise to not hurt Draco's feelings.

"I'm just scared," Harry muttered so quietly Ron nearly missed it. "And I really hate running out on everyone like this. It's not how I do things."

"No, but since the way you do things gets you sent to the hospital wing on a regular basis, I think we're going to go with this plan instead," Draco said. Ron couldn't help but laugh a bit at that.

Harry gasped theatrically. "I can't believe it! Betrayed by my own boyfriend!" Draco giggled. Ron shuddered. It was unnatural to see Draco giggling. It went against everything Ron thought he knew. Ron was more than willing to accept that not all Slytherins being evil was a thing now, but the idea of any of them being giggly (except maybe Daphne), let alone Draco, was still profoundly disturbing.

"Could you please, for the love of Merlin, go the hell away?" Ron begged.

"Fine," Harry sulked. "Come on, Draco. We'll find a better place for our snogging. One where we won't be interrupted!" He practically flounced away. Draco gave a fond smile at his boyfriend's silliness as he walked away, whereas Ron just rolled his eyes. Harry could be such a drama king sometimes.

Hermione smirked. "Now where were we?"

Ron was more than happy to remind her. He really had no clue how he'd managed to luck out in having such a brilliant and attractive witch be interested in him, but he wasn't about to look a gift hippogriff in the mouth. Or when said gift was sticking her tongue in his mouth in a manner that was surprisingly adroit for one who hadn't had any prior experience. Perhaps Hermione had read some books on such subjects. It wouldn't surprise Ron in the least.

More than an hour later, Ron walked back to Gryffindor Tower after a very thorough snogging session with a spring in his step. Spending time with Hermione always put him in a better mood; snogging her even more so.

"Well, well, Ron, looks like something's got you in a good mood," Hagrid called out as he headed towards the doors. He'd been in such a good mood, he'd somehow missed the gargantuan Gryffindor Head of House, a considerable accomplishment to be sure. "Or should I say someone?"

Ron turned around, his cheeks no doubt a fiery red. "Uh, well…"

"Ah, you don't have to say nothing, Ron," Hagrid said with a grin. "I lost count of the number of times I saw that look on your own dad's face back in the day." Eww.

Ron had worried Hagrid wouldn't be a very good Head of House, but actually, Hagrid had turned out to be very good at his job. A ordinary man of his disposition probably wouldn't have been able to assert his authority sufficiently, but no one wanted to take the risk of pissing off a man who could snap their spines like toothpicks with his bare hands. Not that Hagrid would ever do that, but the man could be fearsome when riled. As Snape had quickly learned when he tried his usual routine of picking on the Gryffindors. And, of course, Hagrid was a sweet, caring man who people were much more comfortable in confiding in than Professor McGonagall was. Overall, Ron was impressed and he didn't impress too easily.

But there was no way he was going to be trusting Hagrid with the secret of Grindelwald's identity or, well, anything beyond typical school matters. Ron adored Hagrid; he'd won Ron's undying fealty for the way he'd scared the wits out of the Dursleys. But he'd seen quite a few times, especially during his first year, that one could never, ever trust Hagrid with a secret.

"Well, anyways, I'm sure you don't want to hear about your parents' romance," Hagrid said with a grin barely visible through his beard. Ron nodded fervently. "The headmaster wants to talk to you."

The blood froze in Ron's veins. He couldn't have figured it out, could he?! No, no, it wasn't possible. They'd been so clever! No, it wouldn't do to panic. Everything would be fine. Ron just had to keep on bluffing. Grindelwald was powerful, but arrogant. Everything had gone right for him for the last sixteen years. He wasn't used to things not working precisely as they wanted.

"Am I in trouble, sir?" Ron asked in his most innocent voice.

"Good kid like you, in trouble?" Hagrid said, sounding bewildered. "I shouldn't think so." Ron fought back the urge to remind Hagrid that, in fact, they got in trouble all the time, including one time where they'd done it specifically to help him. "Nothing to worry about. I trust Professor Dumbledore with my life." Ron gave a sickly smile, which went completely over Hagrid's head. Hagrid was a good man, but he was not an especially perceptive man.

Ron could have run, of course, but what good would it have done? His best chance was to go along with everything and pray to every god that may or may not exist that he wasn't being unwittingly led to his death.

Hagrid led him straight to the headmaster's office. Ron realized this was probably the first time he'd ever been there under his own will (if you could call being escorted by Hagrid that) and thus made sure to look appropriately awed at the devices and knickknacks scattered all around the room. He had no idea what they did. It was entirely possible they were just for show.

"Ah, Ronald!" Grindelwald said, sounding perky and entirely calm. Ron had to give him begrudging credit: the impersonation was top notch. There was absolutely nothing to indicate that Ron was looking at the most dangerous Dark Lord in living memory. "Thank you for taking time to join us. I trust I didn't interrupt you in the midst of anything important?"

"Just a little studying session with Hermione," Ron said, trying to sound bashful, as if he had nothing more to hide than a snogging session with his girlfriend. His heart was thundering in his chest.

Grindelwald winked, his expression one of good natured mischievousness. "Ah, yes, I remember such study sessions in my youth," he said jovially. "Part of growing up, my lad, nothing to be embarrassed about. Savor your youth while you still have it. It goes faster than you might suspect." Was that a threat or not? Ron couldn't tell. "Well, Hagrid, if you'd care to leave us…"

Ron had to at least take a stab at keeping Hagrid in the room, as ineffectual it might be. "Actually, sir, would you mind if he stayed?"

"Not at all, not at all!" Grindelwald said, looking completely unfazed. Ron could not help but blink a little in shock. He had not expected this to work. Maybe there was nothing to worry about. Maybe it was a completely normal academic meeting of some description. "We're all friends here, are we not?"

Ron nodded slowly, unsure what the correct response would have been even if this was a normal headmaster/student meeting. "Am I in trouble, sir?"

"Oh, quite the converse, Ronald," Grindelwald said. "In fact, you get to participate in a very great honor. The second task, as you know, is approaching. Each champion will have something very precious to them put at the bottom of the Black Lake. Or, rather, someone."

Ron couldn't help but let out a little squeak. They had previously thought it would be objects that were precious to the champions that would be put under the lake. After all, the riddle had read "to recover what we took; not who we took." They had reluctantly decided that sacrificing Harry's invisibility cloak or photo album would be a price they could afford to pay in order to keep Harry safe. But sacrificing him was an entirely different matter!

"Professor, I don't mean to argue with you, but maybe young Malfoy would be a better choice?" Hagrid said, causing both Ron and Grindelwald to eye him with shock. It would have been darkly ironic for Ron and Grindelwald to be on the same page as each other were the situation not so dire. "It's just Harry and Ron have been on the outs these days, and Harry is very close to his boyfriend. After all, he dedicated his victory in the first task to Malfoy, didn't he?"

"Now, my boy, you'll have to trust that I know best," Grindelwald said, his eyes twinkling brightly.

"Right you are, headmaster!" Hagrid said, a glassy look appearing for the barest fraction of an instant in his eyes. Well, so much for Hagrid being able to help him.

Grindelwald gave a cruel smile. Even after seeing that smile, though, Ron wasn't entirely convinced their cover was blown. This could have just an action of pure, run of the mill sadism on Grindelwald's part, an outlet for getting out his frustration on a pawn who had proven himself useless. But, of course, that was not guarantee Ron wasn't going to drown underneath that lake.

"All right, well, let me say one last goodbye to Hermione," Ron said, trying to grasp desperately at straws, knowing it would be of no use.

Grindelwald took his wand out of his pocket. "No need for that, Ronald." The wand flared with light and everything went black.

Neville was not unaccustomed to the emotion of confusion, but this year seemed to be setting new records for him. He'd been surrounded by a near literal whirlwind of confusion and it didn't seem to be getting any better. It had started out fairly normally until Harry's name had come out of the Goblet of Fire, and then things had just gotten bizarre. Harry insisted he had put his name in the Goblet, despite the fact that anyone who had spent more than an hour around him would know just how ridiculous that idea was. Then Harry started to spend more time around Draco Malfoy of all people, the git who had called Hermione a racial slur and kept on calling him a Squib.

And then the two of them started dating, which was insane! Had Harry just forgotten the first two years of Hogwarts? Okay, sure, Malfoy wasn't so bad in his third year, but he hadn't lifted a finger to stop anyone else from being bad to Neville either, so as far as Neville was concerned, it wasn't much of an improvement. His experience at Hogwarts hadn't gotten any better; it was just that Nott was bullying him instead of Malfoy. Actually, since Nott was a notorious sadist, it had gotten somewhat worse.

Neville had thought he was friends with Harry, but the bloke had barely said two words to him outside of class all year. It wasn't out of maliciousness, Neville knew, but he still felt left out. Neville didn't have all that many friends at Hogwarts, so losing one was a blow to him. Neville understood why Harry had been spending time around other people – it wasn't as if Neville had much to offer him in the way of help for surviving the Triwizard Tournament. But it still hurt.

Then he'd thought his luck would turn around after Hermione asked him to the Yule Ball. Neville hadn't really thought of Hermione in a romantic sense before, but she was actually quite pretty in her own unique way when he thought about it, and Neville thought they'd gotten along quite well. At least before Karkaroff had gone berserk and slaughtered a team of Aurors, including Susan's aunt. The idea of them dating was starting to become more and more appealing. Neville had spent so much time trying to psyche himself up to ask her out to Hogsmeade, to become his girlfriend, only for her to reject him when he finally worked up the courage to ask her.

She couldn't have been nicer about it – Neville didn't blame her one iota – but there was still a dull ache in his heart whenever he thought about Hermione, especially when he saw her on a date with Ron. Ron was a terrible choice for her, though. He'd gone completely off the deep end, consumed by jealousy and spite, and had an insult for just about everyone these days. Neville was starting to get genuinely worried Hermione may not be safe with him. When he'd confronted Hermione about his concerns, she assured him she had everything under control, but Neville couldn't help but continue to worry.

His heart was pounding in his chest when he proceeded to the stands to watch the second task. Though Neville wasn't exactly sure what they'd be watching. The task was supposed to be underwater. They wouldn't be able to see anything down there. Yet another failure to ascribe to the Ministry, Neville supposed. He had long had a very dim view on the efficacy of his government, even though his grandmother was a prominent figure in the Wizengamot. Honestly, though Neville would never admit it to his Gran, he didn't even understood why they still had a Wizengamot. It was so archaic.

The Ministry may have been responsible for the underwhelming setup, but its leaders didn't seem to be especially bothered. Gran had practically forced him to sit alongside her in the box seat where Minister Fudge and Dumbledore was sitting. Also in the box was Lady Malfoy, who was apparently taking over her husband's duties while he was ill (Neville hoped it was with something horribly painful), and a toad-like woman by the name of Umbridge whose manner was so saccharine it made Neville want to throw up. Neville would have been wary of being near Lady Malfoy under ordinary circumstances, but he highly doubted she would act in front of the minister.

Neville watched as the champions proceeded to the end of the dock. His eyes flicked over to where Hermione was standing. Without Ron. Interesting. Had she finally seen the light and dumped him? Next to Hermione was Malfoy, Ginny, Ginny's girlfriend, and some Slytherin girl Neville only barely recognized. He tentatively waved at them. Hermione, Ginny, and the Slytherin girl waved back, whereas Malfoy gave him a curt nod and Luna was too busy watching the lake with a disturbing intensity to even seem to notice.

"I certainly hope our young Mr. Diggory wins this task," Umbridge said. "He comes from very good wizarding stock, you know." Was it Neville's imagination or did Lady Malfoy give a grimace at that? Probably his imagination. Everyone knew the elder Malfoys were as vile as their son…or at least as vile as he'd been.

"I'm sure we'll be satisfied with any outcome as long as it's a British one," Gran said briskly. She had unmistakable, naked contempt in her eyes. Neville had the feeling she'd argue against the sky being blue if Umbridge had said it was.

Neville watched as Harry, wearing a strange Muggle full body swimsuit, took a plant out one of his pockets and swallowed it. He smacked himself on the forehead. Of course! Gillyweed! It was so incredibly simple! Why had Neville not thought of it before? His heart beating quickly as if it was him in the water, Neville watched as Harry dived into the lake.

As Neville had predicted, once the champions had dived into the water, there was absolutely nothing interesting to see. While it was amusing to watch the look in Fudge's eyes as this slowly dawned on him, most of what Neville felt was an overwhelming sense of boredom. He knew it wasn't the right thing to do; for Merlin's sake, Harry could drown down there and Neville was almost on the verge of falling asleep. But his body clearly hadn't gotten the message. There was nothing to do but stare at the water and listen to Lady Malfoy and Gran trade decreasingly veiled barbs, and Neville didn't really care too much about politics.

Cedric emerged from the lake first with Cho in his arms. Neville couldn't help but be horrified. No one had said there would be people down there. He had used the Bubble-Head Charm, it would seem, a very good choice, in Neville's opinion. The next person to emerge was Krum, with a Durmstrang girl in his arms, who had used partial Transfiguration to turn himself into a shark. But Harry and Fleur didn't show up.

The hour time limit finished, but Harry and Fleur didn't show up. The crowd was getting worried, but it was nothing compared to the sheer fear Neville was feeling. Harry was capable of doing so much – he'd tamed a dragon and made it look effortless – but what if his luck had finally run out? What if he'd had an allergic reaction to the gillyweed? What if he'd gotten eaten by the giant squid?

Fleur finally returned, having gotten attacked by grindylows, but Harry was nowhere to be found. Whispers filled the crowd and Neville felt like he might possibly faint. This couldn't be happening. Not now. Not here. Not to Harry! Harry, who'd saved them all from You Know Who and the basilisk! Harry, who was always there to help anyone at all who needed it. Harry, who was far better than this wretched society deserved.

Neville looked over at the other people in the box. Umbridge was doing a very poor job of hiding her sadistic glee. Lady Malfoy's face was impenetrable, even more so than usual. Fudge looked panicked, though whether it was over Harry's safety or the survival of his political career, Neville could not say. And Dumbledore just looked bewildered.

"Do something!" Neville shouted. "Get people in to look for him! And what about the hostages?! Someone should do something!"

"Quite right," Fudge said, drawing himself up and trying to look commanding. It wasn't very impressive, but if it would save Harry's life, Neville would take what he could get. "Aurors, go forth and find Mr. Potter! Destroy anyone who stands in your way!"

"Lord Potter," Neville said under his breath. Gran gave him a rare approving nod.

One of the Aurors frowned. "But, sir, that would mean leaving you unprotected…"

"I hardly think I am unprotected with the famed defeater of Grindelwald at my side," Fudge blustered. "That was an order! GO!"

The Aurors didn't hesitate for a single second longer before diving into the lake. Seconds turned to minutes and time seemed to slow to a crawl while Neville waited for the divers to return. Please be okay, he prayed. Please be okay. He spared a glance to where Harry's friends were. They didn't seem very concerned, which would ordinarily offend Neville, but he knew it was only because they'd seen him get out of worse situations than this. He prayed they were right.

And then the Aurors brought three people out of the lake and Neville's heart practically stopped. One of them was a little girl who looked like Fleur's sister and she was mercifully breathing. Another was Ron, who looked dazed and disoriented and terrified. The third was Harry. And he was not breathing. He was not moving. Neville knew it in his heart and in his bones: Harry was gone. He was dead.

"YOU UTTER BASTARDS!" Ron screamed at the minister, his face incandescent with fury. It was a strange action from a boy who had spent the last few weeks saying what an attention seeking brat Harry was, but Neville didn't think about the discrepancy any, because Harry was dead. "THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!"

Harry was dead!

The Boy Who Lived was now the Boy Who Was Dead, and everyone had failed him. Neville hadn't even had a chance to tell him what a good friend he was. He'd barely spoken to him at all! He'd failed Harry, and there would be no making it up to him ever again. Harry had faced down You Know Who and a basilisk and Dementors and Sirius Black and survived the Killing Curse, and in the end, he'd drowned. All alone, in the dark. Water filling his lungs. Away from his best friends, from his boyfriend, from anyone and everyone who had ever given a damn about him – a depressingly small number of people.

Neville looked down at the stands. Anything to look away from the lifeless, somehow almost unreal looking corpse of his friend. Draco had flat out fainted. Ginny was crying, supported by the Slytherin girl and Luna. And Hermione…

…Hermione was charging up the stands, her wand drawn, and her face filled with righteous fury, a wild look of anger in her eyes. She knocked people over right and left, charging straight towards the box Neville was in. Charging straight for the men she blamed for Harry's death: the Minister for Magic and the headmaster, both of whom could have tried much, much harder to remove Harry from the tournament if they wanted to.

"You did this," she hissed, her eyes blazing with hatred.

"My girl, put down the wand," Dumbledore said, his voice practically thrumming with power.

"SHUT UP!" Hermione screamed. She cast some spell and she leapt up high into the air, much higher than she could have done under her own power, until she was standing in the box beside him.

Umbridge sneered at her. "How dare you draw your wand on a ministry official?! You will go to Azkaban for this, mudblood!"

Fudge stared at her incredulously, though Neville wasn't sure whether it was the content of Umbridge's statement or its timing he didn't approve of. "Shut up, Dolores," he practically snarled at her. "Miss Granger, the Ministry will thoroughly investigate this incident, but there is no indication that Mr. Potter's death was anything more than a tragic accident."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but then she noticed Dumbledore starting to draw his wand, and immediately grabbed Fudge by the lapel and pressed her wand against his fleshy neck so hard it was probably going to leave a bruise. "Everyone will throw their wand out of this box or I will blow his head off, I swear to God!"

"Do as she says," Fudge shouted. Neville was the first to toss his wand out of the box. He had experienced firsthand what it meant to get in Hermione's way back in first year. It wasn't an experience he was eager to repeat.

"Miss Granger, in lieu of surrendering my wand, may I be permitted to depart this box so that I may see to my son?" Lady Malfoy asked quietly. Hermione nodded curtly and Lady Malfoy departed from the box with such a regal bearing it was almost impossible to tell she was technically a hostage.

Gran threw her wand aside next. Everyone looked over at Dumbledore, whose face was filled with an uncharacteristic rage. Hermione jabbed the wand harder into Fudge's neck. "You think I'm bluffing? One cutting curse, less than five seconds, and he dies!"

Dumbledore scowled and then threw his wand over the side. Snape quickly grabbed it and put it in his pocket. "Miss Granger, I know you are overwrought over your friend's death, but everything possible was done, given his arrogance in entering the tournament to begin with…"

Hermione slapped Dumbledore across the face. Everyone looked stunned she had done that, and Hermione herself was not excluded from that. "You dare. You dare! I…I'll come back to you eventually. That's a promise. But it's time to settle things once and for all."

"What is it you want?" Fudge demanded.

"I want you to do the one thing you refused to do last year, Minister Fudge," Hermione hissed, pronouncing the title with more sarcasm than Neville had ever heard before in his life. "I want you to listen!"

Hermione proceeded to tell the most astonishing tale. The true story behind Sirius Black. About how he was never the betrayer of the Potters. How the true traitor had been a supposedly dead man, disguised as a rat the whole time. How Sirius had actually been after Pettigrew the whole time. How Harry could have had a happy life with Sirius instead of a dismal life with his abusers if the minister had just listened to them.

"You cannot make demands of the Ministry of Magic through force!" Fudge started to bluster.

"DIFF –"

"ALL RIGHT!" Fudge shrieked. "Just tell me what you want me to do!"

"What I want is for you to bring back my friend, but since I can't have that, I want you to do your fucking job, minister!" Hermione snarled at him. "I want you to rescind the Kiss on sight order on Sirius Black, which never should have been made in the first place since he never had a trial! I may not be able to give Harry his life back, but at least I can save his godfather."

Fudge tried to gather as much of his dignity as was possible. "Very well! Given the continuous and egregious lack of habeas corpus in the case of Sirius Black, and to honor the debt we all owe to Black's godson for ridding the world of You Know Who, I will rescind the Kiss on sight order. Mr. Black is a free man. Now please let go of me!"

Hermione looked around her, looking very confused all of a sudden, as if suddenly realizing just what she was doing and what the repercussions were. She looked over at the stands and Ginny nodded at her and then she handed the wand over to Neville.

"Aurors –" Fudge began.

"Minister, a word, if you please," Gran said sharply. "It would very advantageous for you to listen to this." She proceeded to whisper in the minister's ear for a good solid minute. Fudge turned an almost chalk white, fear dancing in his eyes.

He gave a smile at the crowd, a smile that did not reach his eyes. "As I was about to say, I am sure we can show mercy on Miss Granger. Her womanly nature compelled her to act unadvisedly." Every woman and quite a few of the men in the crowd gave him an incredulous stare. "She just lost her friend, a crushing blow to us all. I believe that if Miss Granger submits to counseling, we can accept that in lieu of further punishment.

"Accepted," Hermione said calmly. "I'm sorry to have caused a fuss." She curtsied demurely and left the box.

Neville probably should have felt a sense of relief that everything had worked out and that his Gran had almost certainly managed to blackmail the minister into backing up. But he couldn't bring himself to feel much of anything, because Harry was gone. He just hoped Harry was in a better place.

"Another mojito, señor?" a woman asked Harry as he leaned back on a deck chair on a Cancun beach. He was glamoured to look about five years older than he was.

"Gracias, señorita," Harry said with a smile that probably would have caused Draco to curse the waitress to an inch of her life and/or dragged Harry into the nearest broom closet. He covertly cast the spell Sirius had taught him on the drink to divest it of its alcohol. Sirius had won many a Muggle drinking contest using that devious tactic in his time.

Beside him, Sirius gave a diabolical smirk. "What would your boyfriend say if he saw you chatting up the locals?"

"I don't know, but I have a hunch it'd be sexy. Jealous is a good look on him, I bet. Anyway, weren't you the one who told me to relax?"

"Couldn't agree more, Harry."

Everything had proceeded exactly as planned, something that shocked Harry to the extreme, since his plans usually failed or failed utterly. He'd magically shrunk the scuba equipment and hid it in the pocket of his wetsuit, then took it out and waited for the spell to run out when he'd entered the water. He'd found the Portkey they'd dropped in the lake the day before the task, magically suspended so it wouldn't float away, then took it to a hotel room near Heathrow. Dobby had acquired (probably stolen) plane tickets and before he knew it, Harry was on a plane heading to Cancun. Meanwhile, the Aurors discovered the wax dummy he'd transfigured to look like his corpse and he was presumed dead by just about everyone, including, presumably, Grindelwald. Harry had had serious doubts, to say the least, about Hermione's plan to take Fudge hostage and secure a pardon for Sirius that way, but it had worked like a…a charm? Was that metaphor still valid in the magical world? Probably.

Over the last few days, Harry had succumbed to Sirius's pleas for him to just take it easy and enjoy himself. He was free now. Both of them were, and he was slowly coming around to living life to the fullest. He'd gone dancing, drinking, and done some real scuba diving. It was a taste of the life he should have had, and Harry didn't want to give it up for anything.

It couldn't last forever. He'd have to return to the magical world eventually. Grindelwald had to be defeated. Harry couldn't leave his friends in his clutches. But at this moment, Harry had no responsibilities, nothing dragging him down. No one in the Muggle world knew who he was and everyone in the magical world assumed he was dead. Harry had what he wanted finally. He was just himself. And for now, that was all he had to be.