A/N: Thanks again for the reviews, they're definitely a boost to my desire to keep writing.
Chapter 12
August 23, 1995
The next two weeks sped inexorably, with few positives to go with the many negatives. Fudge officially pulled out of his Wizengamot seat, causing a bit of constitutional confusion, as the Minister for Magic was guaranteed a seat per the charter, and none before had ever vacated it. The Wizengamot was founded as a purely legislative and judicial body. They would write the laws, and judge those that broke them, but the Ministry was the executive arm for those laws. For the Ministry and the Wizengamot to be so separate would be a tricky thing to navigate.
On top of the logistical nightmare involved, Harry and crew had a few major problems, one of which being the Ministry's complete control of their world's most reputable source of news. The Prophet had not been kind to the Wizengamot, or Harry, and public opinion of the body was at an all time low. This made Arthur's campaign much more difficult, as he couldn't afford the bad press associated with going against the Ministry's official statements in the aftermath of the attacks.
That Hogwarts and the aurors were also under the purview of the Ministry was another. Dumbledore already had a new Ministry appointed teacher foisted on him, as he hadn't yet signed on a replacement for Alastor Moody. Amelia Bones was also frustrated, as the auror budget couldn't be changed without approval of the Ministry. Her request for further funding to aid in hiring new aurors couldn't proceed without the Minister's approval, which was being denied at every opportunity. Without her knowledge, she had been mentioned as a possible addition to Harry's team, and Albus had begun to feel her out.
The team had met about those three issues multiple times in the last ten days, with no sure solution becoming apparent. Sirius and Charlie were pushing for a permanent change in regards to the position of Minister, but so far, cooler heads had prevailed. This evening, however, the group was meeting to discuss Harry's upcoming duel.
"Do you feel ready, Harry?" Dumbledore asked seriously, clearly worried for the young man.
He nodded confidently in response, as he had improved by leaps and bounds the last few weeks. He'd even shocked Hermione and the four youngest Weasley's to their cores during their last training session, when he finally showed them what he was capable of against the training dummies.
"I feel fast, and my power is improving. I've managed to get most of my spells up to where I need them, and I'm confident it won't be an issue. I plan to make a statement."
"Why'd you challenge him in the first place?" Charlie asked curiously. Harry didn't mind answering, as the man had been brought up to speed on his time on the other side.
"Officially, because of the way he spoke about me in the Wizengamot. But the real reason is that Dad had been tracking the man before he and Mum had to go into hiding. He's the definition of an immoral, dangerous person, and we can't afford to have him in the Faithful Eight seat. It would make everything we're trying to do that much harder."
Charlie appeared to accept his explanation, and Harry turned to his headmaster.
"Sir, I do have a logistical question for you."
Dumbledore, the officiant of the coming duel in his role as Chief Warlock, nodded easily. "Of course."
"Do I need to have a second? Charlus mentioned that was common in his day, and I couldn't find any recent information in the libraries."
"Normally, the challenger would declare their second at the time of confrontation, and as you didn't, it could be assumed you don't intend on one. If he brings someone, however, I'm sure one of our group would be happy to serve as such."
"DIBS," Sirius shouted before anyone had a chance to speak, looking dangerously excited about the prospect.
The group fought back their laughter, none willing to challenge the hallowed rules of the 'dibs'.
"Thanks, Pads," Harry said with a grin. "I'm taking him down painfully, but I'd appreciate you making sure nobody interrupts."
"I've got your back," his godfather promised.
"Will there be anti-transportation wards in place?" he asked the Headmaster, having a sudden realization.
"The portkey ward will be down, as it's customary to allow for quick transport to St. Mungo's. But I'll be checking both you and Lord Yaxley to make sure he doesn't have any in his possession."
"Harry, whatever you're planning," Remus interjected. "Talking it through might be helpful."
"Not tonight, Remus," Harry answered gently. "My plan's solid, and I swear you'll all find it a fitting punishment for the bastard. But Charlie promised me a chance to knock him off the pedestal as 'Gryffindor's greatest seeker', and we're quickly losing daylight."
The six men grinned at the youngest, comforted by his confidence. Charlie, Harry, and Bill headed to the pitch, while the older four continued chatting.
—
"You seem pretty cocky, Lord Potter," Charlie teased as they took some warm up laps.
"It's all down to genetics," he responded snootily, doing his best Draco impression.
Charlie laughed at his act, bumping into him intentionally. When Harry's broom stayed on course, Harry realized his new bulk might be more beneficial than he thought.
"Charlie, can I fly you back to your cabin after? I have something to ask you, and kinda want to see how the place looks."
"Of course," the man responded. "If you win."
Bill released the snitch three times, with Harry catching the first and third. He was blown away, however, by Charlie's move for the fourth. The man was climbing vertically, Harry on his tail, when the snitch changed directions, heading directly for the ground.
Harry was flying too fast to react in time, but Charlie released his grip on his own broom, following the snitch's descent. He barely managed to catch it with his left hand, as he grabbed the tail of Harry's Firebolt with his right. The two began an awkward descent to the ground until Charlie managed to snag his now-riderless broom from its freefall.
When they touched back down on the pitch, Bill didn't appear happy. "Charles Fucking Weasley," the man thundered, storming in their direction.
"Interesting middle name," Harry muttered from the corner of his mouth.
"Makes paperwork more fun," Charlie answered from the corner of his.
Bill reached them, his face unreadable, before it finally broke out in a reluctant grin as he grabbed his brother in a laughing embrace.
"You two are suicidal," he finally said, shaking his head.
Harry had pulled some risky moves, but nothing to the caliber of Charlies' last. Looking around, he realized it was officially dark. The lights of the pitch helped, but he figured it was best to leave the score tied for the moment. The Weasley's seemed to agree, as they walked towards the Manor without having to say so. Bill shook Harry's hand, promising to see him tomorrow, and disapparated.
Harry and Charlie took flight again more leisurely, heading towards the man's cabin.
"What is it you wanted to talk to me about?" Charlie asked curiously. "Is it about the duel?"
He had been training almost exclusively with Harry this last week, making sure the teen was prepared to fight someone more powerful one-on-one.
"Nah," Harry responded, shaking his head. "Honestly, I don't think it'll last too long. We just haven't had a chance to talk about the cabin since you moved in."
"It's been great," Charlie said enthusiastically. "I still feel weird about not paying rent or something, but it's a perfect set up. A couple bedrooms, a bathroom, a kitchen. Everything I need."
"I saw Buckbeak flying your way the other day."
"He comes by most nights, actually. I added a big back deck with a grill, since I grew partial to cooking over a fire in Romania. He swings by for a bit of a snack when he smells me cooking dinner," the man finished with a grin.
As they flew over the tops of the trees at the beginning of the forest, Harry changed track. "I have a feeling you'll have neighbors soon."
There had already been two mysterious 'disappearances' in their world. One was a single wizard who was supposedly doing research into ancient runic magic, and the other was an unspeakable. The Prophet reported the stories like they'd moved to Hawaii, but Dumbledore wasn't sure if they'd defected, or been killed.
"Yeah, I figured. It's a bit bizarre walking through the empty town. Feels creepy with all the buildings and no people. It looks great, though," he added, seeing Harry's questioning look.
"I'm heading to the House-elf Registration Office on Friday," Harry said, getting to the point. "They've agreed to let me purchase their entire roster- for a considerable markup, but it's needed. They can live in the village before the families start trickling in."
"House-elves?" Charlie responded in confusion.
"Yep. They're going to be my new emergency response team." Harry replied before snorting in laughter at the man's growing confusion. "I mean it! I'm going to have them rescue the families that have agreed to move here when things turn ugly. Did you know elves can pop through anti-transport wards?"
"Not until Dobby popped me to your party," Charlie answered honestly.
"Not many other people know, because nobody's asked. With their ability to be invisible when needed, they're the perfect mode of transportation for those I'm hoping to save."
"That's brilliant, Harry," Charlie said hesitantly. "But I feel like you're asking something of me, and I can't figure out what it is."
"I want you to organize them," he responded simply. "I'll bind them to the property, but they'll need someone to act as a leader of sorts, and I honestly don't have the time. I'll give you the list of families we've convinced to let us help so far, and we'll add to it as we go. Dobby is already listening for the Greengrass', Hermione, Luna Lovegood, and the Longbottom's. Winky has your family, the rest of the Gryffindor quidditch team, and the Bones'. Pocky's got Hagrid, McGonagall, Flitwick, and Sprout, but they're all starting to feel a bit distracted.
"Apparently when they're tied to so many people, they hear those people in their head. Dobby told me it'll eventually get pretty overwhelming, so I decided not to add anyone else to their lists, as they all have other duties to carry out. If you agree, it'll be your job to assign the new elves to certain families, and help them get this place ready for occupancy."
They arrived at Charlie's cabin, dismounting and sitting in the chairs the man had made for his deck, sipping butterbeers from a nearby cooler.
"Harry," Charlie began, thinking quickly. "I'm happy to help, honestly. But I don't know anything about house elves. The only one I think I've ever spoken to is Dobby!"
"Don't use him as your frame of reference," Harry laughed. He loved the little guy, but he wasn't a good example of the species. "I'll ask Pocky to come give you some lessons. Their magic is unbelievable, and nobody even knows about it. Pocky's a bit grumpy, but he's as honest as they come."
"Of course, I'll do it," Charlie relented. "Just don't expect me to become some subject matter expert or something."
"That's what Dobby's for," he replied happily.
He had invited his friend to a few of the recent team meetings, allowing the elf to explain things the others would never have thought about, and Dobby had done wonderfully. He was even beginning to speak a bit clearer, likely from the time spent actually conversing with humans.
"Okay, then," Charlie said, seemingly happy to move on. "Wanna stay for a steak? Buckbeak'll be by once I throw 'em on."
"Sounds good. And thanks, Charlie."
—
August 24, 1995
"Happy Birthday, Albus," Harry cheered brightly, tossing the man a wrapped package containing a large bundle of socks. The man had approached in his official capacity to check for illegal contraband or portkeys, and caught the package with a smile.
"How did you know?" he asked sarcastically after opening the present.
"You backed yourself into a corner with that one," Harry answered, smiling easily. "Nothing but socks from me until you're gone."
Harry had met with the team earlier that day to explain his plan, and they were all impressed by his ruthlessness. He was worried it would be against the rules, but Dumbledore assured him there were few limitations on how the duel could be fought.
He felt calm. The plan was developed with Charlus, and though he knew it would only work once, it would certainly send a message. He wasn't looking forward to how he would feel afterwards, but had scheduled an appointment with Healer Wilson for the following morning. This was a necessary evil.
"Harry..." Albus began, before being interrupted by the arrival of the Minister.
"I'll not have you interfering, Dumbledore," the man called pompously, Percy Weasley at his elbow. "This will be a fair duel, as unfortunate as it may turn out to be."
"Of course, Minister," the old man replied distastefully, noting Fudge's excitement. "When you're ready, Lord Potter," he said to Harry with a wink, moving to check Yaxley for banned items.
"Minister," Harry said with a grin. "How nice of you to come wish me luck!"
"Of course, Lord Potter," the man countered with barely constrained glee. "It promises to be… quite the event. I trust you've taken care of the necessities?"
Harry, realizing the man was talking about a will, smiled darkly. "Didn't see the need to, sir. Percy, it's great to see you," he added to the estranged Weasley.
"Lord Potter," he responded dully.
"I heard you missed your sister's birthday dinner."
The redhead's only answer was to turn red, avoiding eye contact. Harry was tempted to treat the man like the toady he had become, but he held out hope Percy would eventually return to his family.
"I trust you see the foolishness in your actions now," Fudge interjected condescendingly. "This should never have happened, Lord Potter, and there's nothing I can do to stop it."
"I wouldn't let you if you tried, Minister," Harry responded. "I'll do my best not to kill him, though. I know you need his vote."
"Make sure you adhere to the rules," Fudge spat, turning as red as his assistant.
The two turned to find their seats, and Harry smiled at the effect he'd had on them without even trying. Knowing the only rules were against the Unforgivables and spells that affected a combatant's future generations, he wasn't worried about the outcome of the duel.
"He's such a nice man," Harry whispered dreamily, trying to get Sirius to relax.
Yaxley had shown up with a second, which wasn't a big surprise. The man was treating this like a social event. He and Thaddeus Nott stood together on the opposite side of the pitch, chatting confidently as Dumbledore approached, and Harry knew Sirius was glad for a reason not to leave his side.
"Kiddo, you need to focus," the man warned somberly. "Don't underestimate him."
"I don't, Sirius," Harry responded sincerely. "I spent hours going through Dad's memories of the dickhead. I know how he fights, and even if I'm wrong, I'll make something up."
Sirius took a deep breath, clearly trying to be confident for Harry's sake. "Prongs had his number. The only reason he didn't kill him was that they kept getting interrupted. Why don't you finish the job?"
Harry smiled, appreciating the sentiment, though disagreeing with the strategy. "Only if I have to, Pads."
Harry exited the overhead tent Dumbledore had prepared for the contestants, and walked slowly towards the center of the pitch, Sirius slightly behind. As he made it to midfield, he took a chance to look around the crowd.
The stands were even fuller than they were for his quidditch matches, though the mood was drastically different. The amount of whispering going on made the pitch sound like a strong, constant wind was blowing around it. Harry looked forward to the silence his plan would produce.
"Chief Warlock," Yaxley called loudly as he approached the center, his voice carrying to the crowd. "This is not something I ever wanted, but I appreciate your participation."
"Lord Yaxley," Dumbledore greeted seriously. "I expect I will not be able to talk either of you out of this?"
"Who would I be to deny a request made by the great Potter family," Yaxley answered sarcastically.
Harry heard an excited twittering among the spectators behind his opponent's tent. Looking up, he recognized the entire Malfoy family, and they were surrounded by others on many of Harry's lists of possible enemies.
"I even have plans to set up a charity with their money," Yaxley continued.
Refusing to play this game, Harry merely shook his head in response to the headmaster's question.
"If you would escort your seconds to their marked positions, we'll begin at the sound of my wand," Dumbledore explained, sending one last worried look at Harry.
He walked Sirius back to his designated area, hugging the man tightly when they arrived.
"Don't fuck around, kiddo," the stressed man whispered. "Your plan is good, but don't play with him for too long. All it takes is a lucky shot."
"I don't plan to, Pads."
Harry slowly returned to the center, scanning the crowd as he did. The first face he recognized was Daniel Greengrass, and he couldn't help but search for his daughter. Daphne was to his left, and his stomach turned at the thought of her seeing what he was about to do. Astoria was nowhere to be seen, and he figured Daniel thought her too young for such an event. Harry was grateful for that at least.
A few rows up he noticed a familiar gaggle of redheads. He smiled at the Weasley's, giving a small wave as he reached his position on the field. His eyes met Yaxley's, and Harry almost felt bad for the over-confident man. He really had no clue what was coming.
Not looking away from his opponent, he noticed a second detection spell from his Headmaster wash over him. When Dumbledore was satisfied both men were clean, Harry saw his wand raise slowly in his peripheral. He took a few calming breaths, eventually nodding in Albus' direction. Yaxley repeated the motion, and Dumbledore cast a cannon blast charm, the two combatants immediately raising their wands at the sound.
—
Albus shuffled back to the edge of the stands, erecting a large dome-shaped shield to protect the spectators. Harry was grateful for the action, though his eyes never left Yaxley's as the two slowly circled clockwise, putting space between each other.
Eventually, the man smirked at him confidently, and cast a powerful area-targeted blasting curse. Harry, expecting the man to rely on his power advantage, darted forward. The area-targeted curses were designed to cause slightly smaller damage to a much larger sector, and forward was the only real way to avoid it at their current range. Harry used his momentum to slide to his knees under the curse, casting two quick strengthening spells on his hands as he did, before popping back to his feet as the explosion impacted behind him.
Harry noticed surprise on the man's face, but he quickly recovered. As Yaxley brought his wand to bear a second time, Harry fired a stinger, hitting the man square in the chest. Yaxley stumbled backward, his spell interrupted, but shrugged the pain off easily. His lips curled into a condescending smirk, clearly thinking that was the best the teen had to offer.
"What a sad end this is going to be," the man said loudly, his voice traveling to the crowd easily. "I almost feel bad at ending your line, but this is the consequence of your own foolish actions."
Yaxley spun quickly, drawing on a powerful spell as he did so. Instead of releasing the magic, however, he was hit with another stinger, this time to the forehead.
Harry smirked at the frustrated man, but chose not to add insult to injury. Yaxley would have enough humiliation to deal with as it stood. He waited for the wizard to respond in anger, and the wait was brief.
A third stinger caught the man's neck to disrupt his next curse, though Yaxley immediately responded by twisting to fire another. It, too, was disrupted. As was the third of the quick string of spells. As Yaxley seethed with fury, Harry closed the distance, his wand never rising higher than his waist.
"Fight with honor, Potter," Yaxley screamed, trying and failing for another curse.
"Why, Corban?" Harry asked loudly, yet politely. "You raped and murdered countless muggles during the last war. Why would I treat you as anything but the disgusting filth you are?"
Yaxley roared in response, attempting another string of curses that were again interrupted or dodged easily. Harry continued moving closer during the exchange, and eventually grew close enough for the next part of his plan. He watched as Yaxley raised an incredibly rare shield spell, intent on firing from within, and stood patiently, a mere twenty feet from the man.
When Yaxley fired what looked like an overpowered explosive curse, Harry rolled to the right, sprinting forward once the spell was past him. Within range in the briefest of moments, Harry brought his left fist back and swung, knowing he would have to overpower the shield to connect with his target. He did so, though his haymaker turned into more of a grab at the man's collar due to the shield's resistance.
Yaxley, not expecting a physical attack, recoiled instead of attacking. It was the worst thing he could do, as Harry, now inside the shield, quickly disarmed him. The shield collapsed, and Harry intentionally dropped his own wand, preferring both hands free.
His first punch to Yaxley's solar plexus drove the air from the man, dropping him to his knees. His second, an uppercut to the chin with every ounce of strength in his body, blasted the wheezing Death Eater backwards onto the flat of his back.
The crowd was completely silent, stunned by the attack. Harry wasn't willing to let up, however. He straddled the man's midsection in a classic mount, calling on his hand-to-hand combat training from Charlus, and pummeled the man with his right fist.
The first punch from his new position broke Yaxley's orbital socket, the bone cracking brutally under Harry's hand. The second punch, from his left, opened as it fell, pinning the man's right arm to the ground as it reached for his discarded wand. His third dazed the man, connecting just under his left temple. In lieu of throwing a forth, Harry reached back for his own wand.
He leaned forward, trapping Yaxley's arms between his thighs and the man's own body, and whispered dangerously.
"You have two options, Death Eater."
"Fuck you, Potter," Yaxley responded dazedly, fighting against the younger man's grip on his arms.
"No, that's not one of them," Harry disagreed calmly. "Option one, you swear on your magic that the Dark Lord has returned."
He punched the man in the nose with the hand that held his wand, the bone breaking gruesomely and spraying blood over both of them.
"You will then swear to turn yourself over to Amelia Bones as his follower. Option two," he continued, though the battered wizard's eyes were having trouble focusing. "Swear on your magic that he hasn't."
Yaxley managed to look at him in confusion, before his jaw was dislocated by another punch.
"If you choose neither, I'll kill you with my bare hands, like the half-blood I am."
He enunciated the sentiment with another punch to the already broken nose, causing the man to finally cry out in pain.
Yaxley's eyes were cloudy, but awake. He looked at Harry, perched above him, in absolute fear.
"He'll kill me…" the man wheezed.
"No," Harry responded softly. "I'll kill you."
He broke the man's left cheekbone, the face quickly becoming unrecognizable. The strengthening charm Harry had cast on his knuckles was proving to be a good choice. Using his position, his full weight had been thrown into the punches, and the left side of his opponent's face was already a swollen, bloody mess.
"Do you really want to die in front of all these people?" Harry continued quietly. "Lying in your own shit. Beaten to death by a fifteen-year-old?"
Yaxley attempted to buck the younger wizard by throwing his hips upward, but Harry clamped down with his legs, wrapping his feet underneath the older man's thighs.
"Not happening, Corban. I'm going to hit you again, and then I expect an answer."
Harry was true to his word, and used his left fist to shatter the man's other cheekbone.
"You'll die here," he whispered dangerously. "I swear it."
Yaxley, doing his best to think through his options, while remaining surprisingly conscious, nodded his head imperceptibly.
"I'll need more than that," Harry whispered calmly.
He felt the man raise his right hand, arm still trapped between his thigh, and make some sort of signal. Harry, confused, pinned the arm tighter underneath him, preparing to hit the defeated wizard again.
Before he could, he felt a malevolent energy approaching from his left, and turned to see a Killing Curse bearing down on him, courtesy of Thaddeus Nott. The distance it was cast at left Harry plenty of time to react, as his opponents were clearly unaware of his ability to sense magic.
His only options were to release Yaxley and dodge the curse, or to roll the man into it. Stubborn in his plan, he moved to dodge, as the crowd above him reacted loudly to the attempted murder. Just before he unhooked his legs, however, the grass and dirt between him and the curse rose from the ground. The curse was swallowed and destroyed by the wave of earth, and Harry watched as Nott reached into his chest pocket, immediately disappearing.
Harry reset his hooks on the wizard beneath him, and glanced to his right. Sirius stood, his wand raised and a furious look on his face, at the edge of his designated square. He met Harry's eyes and the two nodded to one another. Harry realized he trusted nobody more as his second, in a duel or in the coming war. The man was hyper-vigilant when it came to his safety. Turning his attention back to a softly weeping Yaxley, he reached out with his right hand.
"For that, you lose an eye, Corban," he whispered coldly.
He had spent the days leading up to this duel reviewing his dad's memories of the man. Watching a memory of a memory was headache-inducing, but Harry had persevered, needing a reason to be merciless. That reason was easy to find, as the man was prolific in his heinous crimes during his heyday. Harry felt nothing but satisfaction as his right thumb entered the man's eye socket.
Before he ruined the eye, Corban called out in supplication. Harry ignored him, pushing with all his strength. As the man's screams eventually quieted, he leaned down to whisper in his ear once more.
"You can save the other one, but my mercy is on a timer."
"I'll… do… it…" the man whimpered between sobs, having trouble speaking with his shattered jaw, but Harry quickly revised his plan.
"Nott's interference has taken your choice from you, Corban," he said calmly. "I don't tolerate cheating. You'll now swear on your magic exactly what I tell you to swear."
The man nodded, crying pitifully. Harry whispered the lines in his ear, and rose to his feet, pulling the man with him. He held his wand on the battered wizard, turning him to face the stands opposite the Weasley's. He wandlessly summoned Yaxley's wand, and held it just out of reach, reminding the man of his lines.
Casting the sonorous spell on the suffering man, Harry returned the wand to him, his own still touching Yaxley's spine.
"I, Corban Clement Yaxley," the man began, his voice echoing throughout the pitch and stands. "Swear on my Magic that the Dark Lord Voldemort, also known as Tom Marvolo Riddle, is dead and has not returned."
The gathered witnesses, deathly silent, seemed to sit back in their seats as one. As the magic of the oath flared brightly, confusion swept the stands like a plague. Yaxley, finished with his part in this play, was instantly released. Harry took a few steps backwards, hoping the wizard would react how he expected.
Yaxley, his face a bloody mess, did exactly that. The man quickly turned, hope in his remaining eye.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!" he screamed, wand pointed at the young man's heart. The words reverberated throughout the stadium, as Harry merely smirked.
And of course, nothing happened. No flash of green. No immediate death. Just a collective gasp from those in attendance. And a thoroughly defeated man falling to his knees.
"'Atta boy, Corban. Well done," Harry said softly, plucking the now-useless stick from the man's hand.
—
The gasps from the crowd immediately turned to hundreds of people speaking at once. The noise quickly swelled, the gathered witches and wizards trying to understand what just happened. Harry calmly returned his wand to its holster, as Sirius approached at a jog. He met the man a few steps away from Yaxley.
"Great job, kiddo. How's the hands?"
Sirius, no stranger to the occasional bar fight in his younger days, had been the one to suggest the strengthening charms.
"They're fine, Pads. You saved me some broken knuckles, I think."
He hugged the man tightly, feeling the tension leave his Godfather's shoulders. As he released him, he noticed the domed shield remained in place, and turned towards Albus who was waiting nearby.
"I believe a few people would like to make sure you're okay, Harry," the man said with a forced smile. "Congratulations on your victory."
"Thanks Albus. I assume the shield keeps everyone from the pitch?"
"I thought you could use a minute to collect yourself," he confirmed. "I noticed Malfoy and his ilk leaving quickly after Lord Yaxley's announcement."
"I suppose I'm not lucky enough for Fudge to have followed him."
"Unfortunately not, but he has no legal recourse in this matter."
"Doesn't mean he won't still try something," Sirius responded, both wizards agreeing.
"Let's face the music, I guess," Harry said, adrenaline still coursing through his body.
Dumbledore nodded, and canceled the dome. Sure enough, Fudge was the first one on the pitch, as he'd been watching from a temporary field-level pavilion.
"Aurors," he called loudly, ensuring he could be heard by all. "Arrest that boy!"
Three men in scarlet robes moved in Harry's direction from their post behind the Minister. He knew this was a possible outcome, and wasn't looking forward to his time in a Ministry holding cell. He was confident the Wizengamot would refuse to try him for a fabricated crime, but Fudge could technically hold him for a few days regardless.
"Aurors, stand down!" Harry watched as Amelia Bones hurried from her seat, approaching the Minister angrily. "The only laws broken today were by Thaddeus Nott, and Lord Potter has committed no crime. And my aurors answer directly to me, Minister."
A small group of the professionals, Robards at their head, stepped forward from the stands confidently. They didn't choose a side, but the effect their presence brought was immense.
"They won't if you intend to stand against me," the man threatened, his face an unhealthy shade of red.
"To fire me will require an official termination of contract, Cornelius," Amelia snapped back, not giving the man an inch. "I'll look forward to the required paperwork in the morning."
"You'd really throw your reputation away for a deranged teengager intent on destroying our world?"
"I'd wager my reputation will outlive your own, Minister," Amelia replied dangerously as she drew her wand, though it pointed at the ground. "And I'm unsure what you hope to gain from this."
Fudge, sensing defeat in front of a large crowd, decided his presence was no longer required. He quickly stormed off, his confused auror detail following.
Harry grimaced as Amelia approached. "Lady Bones, I thank you for your intervention, but I wish it hadn't cost you your job."
"The Ministry has lost its way, Lord Potter," the intimidating woman responded, trying to reign in her anger. "Perhaps I'll return when it has been found."
Harry nodded gratefully. He knew Albus had been feeling the witch out for her support, but wasn't expecting such a move from her this early. Amelia stepped back, allowing the approaching Weasley's to pass by.
Molly grabbed him into the tightest hug she could manage, streaks evident on her face from her tears. "Harry, I was so worried. When he turned and cast that… that spell."
Molly released him, glaring hatefully to where Yaxley remained kneeling.
"I'll go deal with Yaxley," Lady Bones offered from behind the emotional woman.
Arthur took his wife's place, shaking his hand vigorously. "I'm happy you're okay, Harry."
"Thanks, Arthur. Looks like you have a platform to run on for the next few days."
"I'll sit down with Remus to plan some things this evening," the man agreed, stepping away.
A very impatient Hermione was the next to approach, hugging her friend closely.
"No more duels for a while, okay?" she asked hopefully, nerves evident in her voice.
"I'll do my best, Hermione."
As she stepped away he was swarmed by a collection of younger redheads, and many handshakes and backslaps ensued, furthered by the twins deciding to shake everyone's hands multiple times.
"Lord Potter," George intoned seriously after the antics. "We humbly ask that if we ever piss you off, you just drop us into an acromantula nest."
"It would be far less painful," Fred continued with a hopeful look on his face.
Harry shook his head at the goofballs. "I'll just let Ginny handle your punishment," he joked, hugging the obviously emotional girl.
The twins looked at each other. Then back at Harry. And back to each other. Both shivered dramatically, drawing relieved laughs out of those gathered.
"Acromantulas would be nicer," Ginny replied with a smirk.
A/N: Heading back to Hogwarts soon. And Daphne. Thanks for reading!