Title: Tired
Rating: PG, A/U
Summary: After hearing the prophecy and Dumbledore's explanations for things at the end of fifth year, Harry become tired of the same things happening and tries a different path.
Warning: Unbeta'd
A/N: No real pairing, but one is implied at the end. This starts with the explanations in Dumbledore's office after the fight in the DoM at the end of year 5…)
Harry still raged internally. He had finished raging externally - Dumbledore's office was quite the mess. He felt some guilt, shame even, as he considered what he had done, but it was easily suppressed. A part of his brain continued to listen to the end of the Headmaster's explanation, but most of him was thinking about what it all meant to him.
There were so many things he should have been told before now and all Dumbledore could say was that he cared too much and had wanted Harry to have a childhood. He had had a little bit of "recovered childhood" when he had started here at Hogwarts, but it had not lasted long. The troll had seen to that. Meeting Voldemort twice that year had added to his "loss". Killing the basilisk and diary and completely ended any thoughts he had about a "new childhood".
What had he thought when they got caught giving the baby dragon to Charlie Weasley? Oh yes, he had told himself that did not need to stick his nose into other people's business. He mentally snort at that thought. He had kept to that position for maybe six weeks before he was chasing after the Philosopher's stone.
Then there had been the diary, his godfather, actually trying to win the Triwizard Tournament which led to Voldemort getting a new body, his insistence to Umbridge that Voldemort was back, and finally his rushing off to the Ministry of Magic to try to save his godfather. Blimey he was an complete and total idiot! He should have left it all alone.
Still, it was obvious he was not completely at fault. There were so many things that had been kept from him. After a moment, he considered that he had been like a mushroom: planted in the dark, fed some dung and watered occasionally, and brought out only when the adults could not do something. It occurred to him that's really what the prophecy was about: the true final task they needed him for, and that made him a weapon. How comforting, he thought sarcastically.
He heard Dumbledore finishing his explanation about the prophecy as Harry looked out the window into the early dawn.
"Do you understand, Harry?"
"I do," he said slowly and in a monotone, not turning to face the old man. A vague idea was starting to form in his head and he really wanted time to think about it. At the same time, the grief for his recently lost godfather was threatening to rip what little control he had from him.
"I feel I owe you another explanation, Harry," said Dumbledore hesitantly. "You may, perhaps, have wondered why I never chose you as a prefect? I must confess ... that I rather thought ... you had enough responsibility to be going on with." (quoted from OotP)
When Dumbledore finally became silent, Harry knew the explanations were done. He could ask anything he wanted, but he would get a vague answer at best, or mostly likely a question in return.
"I understand," he said, again without emotion as he tried to hold everything in. Not really having anything meaningful to say, he tossed out, "I need to think about it all," as he turned and walked to the door without a glance at the old man. This time, the door opened for him and he left the Headmaster's office.
He passed a few small groups as they headed towards the Great Hall for breakfast. Most gave him a strange look for his dirty clothes at this time of the morning, but he really did not care.
In his dorm room, he was grateful that Dean and Seamus were not there. Gathering his bathroom things, he headed to the showers and cast a Silencing charm on the last stall. He stood in the hot water longer than he ever had before, letting his tears for his dead godfather wash down the drain, washing his loss and frustration about it all away - or at least he tried to.
Heading back to his bed, he cast more Silencing charms around his bed and lied down, thankful that his last OWL had been yesterday. He would have taken a Pepperup Potion to force himself to stay up and plan if he did not have a week left before they headed home. Instead, he let his options drift around in his head until he fell asleep. He would consider what he should do and plan later today.
Waking in mid-afternoon, Harry rose and dressed. Looking around his dorm, he saw that Neville's bed curtain was closed, so Madam Pomfrey must have fixed and released him. He was glad Neville was not hurt badly, although he did feel badly that Neville had broken his father's wand. He was sure Neville's Gran would be upset with him for that.
Walking down to the common room, he arrived just in time to see Ginny walk through the portrait hole.
"Hi Harry," she said brightly, although softly.
"Ginny," he returned with a nod. "Madam Pomfrey let you go?"
"Yeah, only a few minutes ago. Neville and Luna were released this morning after breakfast." She stopped and looked like she was not sure she wanted to continue, but she finally said, "Madam Pomfrey says Ron and Hermione will be all right, but they're still at St Mungo's and won't come back until tomorrow. They'll have to stay with her for at least a few days though."
Harry nodded slowly, taking it in; part of him wanted to apologize to her. He must not have kept his thought to himself as much as he desired, because she walked over to stand in front of him.
"It's not your fault," she said very softly. When he started to protest, she put a hand on his arm to stop him. "It was our decision to come with you. You tried to make us stay, but we decided to come."
He still wanted to protest and apologize, but she shook his arm slightly to force him to look at her.
"Not only is it not your fault, but I'd go again knowing what I know now. You helped to keep us alive, not only by telling us what to do, but by teaching the DA this year. It's not your fault that you were tricked, and I know a lot about that," she told him with a fierce look.
He slowly nodded, understanding she was talking about her experience with the diary, but not really wanting to talk about it. "Thanks, Ginny."
"The others won't blame you either, Harry."
A sigh escaped, but he did not argue with her.
Ginny yawned for a moment. "Sorry," she told him. "I'm going to go rest until dinner. I'll see you later."
He bid her good-bye and then walked out of Gryffindor Tower and to his favorite place near the lake. There, he sat and thought about what Dumbledore had told him, especially about the Prophecy.
With the information he had learned early this morning, many of Dumbledore's actions started to make sense, at least as much as they could to Harry. He did not agree with most of the decisions, but at least he understood them better.
The phrases "mark him as his equal", "power the Dark Lord knows not", "must die", and "neither can live while the other survives" ran through his head. He consider each, especially in light of what Dumbledore had told him. However, after a time, he started to wonder if Dumbledore really had the correct interpretation.
Harry consider Trelawney to be a fraud, at least most of the time. However, in their fourth year, the Professor had stressed that the interpretation of prophecies were tricky before they were fulfilled, and normally could only be correctly interpreted after they were fulfilled. That he did agree with.
"Mark, power, die, can't live and will survive," he muttered to himself, letting his idea grow.
His stomach eventually rumbled, reminding him that it was dinner time. He was thankful that he had spent the last couple of hours alone. It had settle him, at least a little. He did his best not to think about Sirius at the moment. He was not ready for that again - maybe tomorrow.
Ron and Hermione came back the next day and stayed in Madam Pomfrey's care until a few days before it was time to leave. He made sure to visit them and let them know he was sorry for getting them hurt. They were both adamant that it was not his fault, just like Ginny had told him, and as Neville and Luna had told him when he talked to them.
While his closest friends were still recovering, he spent most of his free time by himself and planned. Articles in the Daily Prophet about the Ministry finally acknowledging Voldemort's return and the vindication of his story from a year ago appeared - all without a hint of regret for what they said about him. While part of him was happy that the truth was finally being printed, most of him was disgusted it had taken so long and at what had happened during the year.
Harry knew most of the people in the ministry were probably good-hearted like Arthur Weasley, but with people like Fudge and Umbridge there and at the top, he was disgusted with the Ministry too. The fact that they let Death Eaters work there, like Walden Mcnair, only compounded his ill-will.
One task he made sure to do on his last day of school was to visit Professor McGonagall. The second that Umbridge was gone, he went to see his head of house. A short conversation about his broom and she had a house-elf retrieve it for her before she handed it to him. He thanked her profusely.
He could not fail to notice that his friends looked at him with concern on the train ride back to London. He knew some of the concern came from his being so quiet, or brooding as Hermione might say. Honestly, he couldn't help it and he decided that it was probably better this way. He needed to protect them.
As they all left the train, Harry cast a Featherweight Charm on his trunk. It should last for several hours, long enough for him to complete what he needed to.
Hedwig was flying back from school with the instructions to find him when she could, so her cage was shrunk and in his trunk. He had no doubt his most faithful friend would find him.
Doing his best to act normal, he said good-bye to all of his friends and promised to write soon, as did they the same.
Going "outside" to the Muggle part of the station, he saw a scene that made him angry, although he held it in. He knew Moody, Tonks, Lupin, and Mr Weasley meant well trying to scare his relatives into better behavior, but Harry knew this would really provoke worse behavior when they arrived back at #4 Privet Drive. Worse, he could not stop them now that they had started, he just had to wait and let the intimidation run its course.
When the "conversation" was done, Harry finally walked over. "I'm ready to go, Aunt Petunia." It was really safest to ignore Vernon at times like this. His relatives turned and left without saying a word to him.
"Write us every few days and let us know you're all right," Lupin told him. "If we don't hear from you, we'll come over."
Harry looked at him blankly for a short moment. "Thanks for making my life at their house more difficult," he said without emotion and walked quickly after his relatives, glad that his trunk was lightened. He suspected that he had surprised Lupin with his remark, but frankly, he did not really care at the moment. He had one task on his mind and the Order had just made it twice as difficult.
He caught up to his relatives just before they reached Vernon's car. It was impossible to miss Vernon's red neck from the back, a sure sign of his anger. Nevertheless, his uncle popped the lid to the boot of the car for Harry to slide his trunk into. Harry closed the lid and sat in the back seat. Dudley eyed him warily but otherwise said nothing, just like everyone else.
As they started to pull out of the car park, Harry spoke up, knowing he did not have much time. "I'm sorry about what they said to you back in the station. I didn't ask them to do that and I would have tried to stop them if they had told me before."
Vernon did not look in his mirror at Harry or say anything, although it did sound like he might have been grinding his teeth. Harry was not sure if the silence was good or bad, but hoped for the former.
"We'll pass Charring Cross Road on the way home. If you'll stop there for a minute and let me pull my trunk out of the boot, I'll leave and you'll never have to see me or put with me again." Harry practically prayed for success.
Vernon finally glanced in the rearview mirror at him; his tone was as angry as his expression. "Even if I did that … boy, how do I know they wouldn't bring you back anyway?"
It was actually a very reasonable question.
"Because I plan to go somewhere they can't find me before they even miss me," Harry replied.
Vernon considered that for a moment. "And how do we know we can trust you to do that?"
Harry noticed that his uncle had turned the car towards Charring Cross Road, so there was hope. "In a way, I suppose you can't know. All I can say is that I don't want to burden you anymore and I don't want to return to … my school. Just like I did my best to protect Dudley last summer when we were attacked, I'll do my best now to keep this promise to your family." He watched Vernon consider that and then look to his aunt. She nodded, never looking at Harry.
The car turned another few corners before they were on Charring Cross.
"If you'll stop in the next block, I'll get out there," he informed them. His uncle grunted, but complied. When they stopped, Vernon popped the lid to the boot and looked in his mirror at his nephew. "Thank you for working with me. I never considered what it meant for me to be dumped on your porch for you to take me in - never being asked, that is until recently. It wasn't my fault, but I'm sorry it happened to you."
Without waiting for an answer, he left the car quickly, retrieved his trunk, and shut the lid of the boot. After walking to the sidewalk and looking at his relatives one last time, he saw his aunt turn and look at him for the first time of the trip. She gave him a slight nod as the car pulled away. He was not sure if that was her saying good-bye, a sign of respect for acknowledging their burden, or what.
Shrugging, he turned and walked to the Leaky Cauldron. This was going to be the most difficult part. With his head down to try and hide his face, he walked into the pub and straight to the back. He got lucky that Tom was turned and talking to his helper. In the back by the portal, he was alone, so he pulled his wand and did a coloring charm on his hair, making it blond - not worrying about the magic being traced to him because there was so much of it around him.
Entering Diagon Alley, he headed for the bank, again keeping his head down. Fortunately, there was a teller open so he did not have to wait.
"I need to talk to someone about changing my vault," he said quietly.
The goblin slowly looked up. "What do you need to do?" he asked surly and not lowering his voice.
"I need to discuss branches," Harry replied, hoping he did not have to spell it all out for the goblin. He also hoped Bill Weasley was not in the office today.
The goblin looked at him for a long moment before he said, "Follow me." He slid off of his stool and walked to the side and opened a door. "Wait in there." He pointed to a small bare office.
Harry was glad to be out of the lobby and readily complied. The door was shut and he waited. There were two chairs on this side of the plain wooden desk and one chair on the other side. The room was only slightly larger than his bedroom at the Dursleys and had plain white walls. The goblins probably could not have made the room any more boring if they had tried.
About five minutes later, an older goblin walked in and sat behind the desk. "I'm an account manager. Your key?"
Harry fished it out of his pocket and handed it over.
The goblin held it for a moment before placing it on the desk in front of Harry. "My name is Snokrok. I'm an account manager. What do you need, Mr Potter?"
"Do you have branches in other countries?"
"In all major European countries," came the bored answer.
"Are there any problems moving what's in my vault to one of your other branches?"
"For a half a percent of the gold, we can transfer it in three days. For a full one percent, we can do it in twenty-four hours or less. We do not move non-monetary items," he said stiffly.
"Is there a Potter Family account?" Harry knew the Blacks had one, so should not the Potters?
"Yes."
"Can I access it?"
The goblin still look bored. "You're at least eleven, so yes."
That shocked Harry. Why had that been kept from him?
"Very well. I would like to see the Potter Family vault to retrieve any non-monetary items, then I would like all of the money in all the Potter vaults moved to France within the next day. You can place it all in one vault. Once that is done, I would like to stop renting the vaults here. Do you also handle other financial transactions, such as selling property?" Harry watched the goblin look at him more thoughtfully now, the boredom gone.
After a moment, the goblin asked, "You are leaving England?"
"Will my answer and plans stay confidential?"
"Of course." The goblin look slightly offended.
"My apologies, but no one has ever explained that or many other things to me." Harry was relieved that seemed to mollify the goblin. "In that case, yes, I want to leave Britain. I want to sell all my properties, with the exception of the Potter family house - if there is one, and otherwise end all of my … dealings here."
Snokrok looked a little upset, but the look passed quickly. "I see. Gringotts can accommodate you, Mr Potter, although there will be our usual seller's fee of five percent."
Harry almost agreed until he considered the goblin's look a moment ago. "How much are we talking about, Mr Snokrok? How much does my family own?"
Another look of anger flashed, one that was also almost missed. "The Potter Family estate is approximately three percent of the wealth in Britain. No," Snokrok quickly said, "yours is not the wealthiest family; but you do own a lot."
"In that case," Harry said, trying his best not change his bland expression, "I think a three percent seller's fee would be more reasonable, since you will be making so much. Or if you prefer, I can go find someone else to do it." He almost swore he heard a low growl, but he hoped he had imagined it.
"Four percent and not a Knut less," Snokrok said, his voice deepening.
Harry considered that. "Agreed, as long as you place the money for the sales in my account in France without the one percent transfer fee."
Snokrok definitely looked upset now, but nodded. "Agreed."
"If someone will take me to my family vault, I'd like to look to see what's in there that I need to move. I suppose I'll have to go get a trunk for that. When I return, I can sign any forms you have for me and get a new key?"
The goblin agreed and called Griphook to take Harry down to the vaults.
Harry only had to touch the doors to the family vault, which pricked his hand for a blood sample, and they opened. He was surprised that the vault was not all that large. Sure, it was significantly bigger than his school expense vault, but it was not massive.
"How much money is here?" he asked the goblin.
Griphook walked over to a parchment stuck to the wall next to the door. "Exactly or in round numbers?"
"Round numbers will work."
"A little less than four hundred thousand Galleons."
Harry was impressed. This amount of money gave him a lot of options, and that was before the sale of the properties.
Fortunately for him, all the money was on one side of the vault and the "items"' were on the other side. Harry examined what was there. He found a few portraits of people he did not know, some jewelry in a box, and several boxes of papers which had what looked like addresses on the outside. A good multi-compartment trunk would work well. He left his school trunk there although he picked up a bag of Galleons.
Going back up, Harry stopped by the bookstore and bought a book of maps. He then hurried to the trunk store and bought a seven compartment trunk like he had seen in Moody's room. He also made sure the trunk had a permanent Featherweight charm on it, as well as a way to shrink it down to briefcase size and back up with only a touch of his wand.
He hurried back to Gringotts, knowing time was of the essence. Snokrok took him back to the office.
"Mr Potter, are you aware that you are the heir of the recently deceased Sirius Black?"
Harry had to think about that. "I believe Sirius did mention I was his heir at Christmas, but I honestly had not thought about it." As he did, his depressed feelings returned full force.
Snokrok placed the folder in his hand on the desk and opened it. "This is his Will and last wishes. I will give you a copy to read later, but the summary of it is that you are his heir. He left the Black ancestral home that's in London, with no address, to a Remus Lupin, except for the library, which is yours. Everything else owned by the Black family was left to you."
"Err," Harry did not know what to say. "I wish I knew how to get the library without going there."
"As we have no address for it, we can't help."
For a fee, Harry was sure. He suddenly had an idea. "If there was a family elf who lived in the ancestral home, would he have to obey me or Remus Lupin?"
Snokrok looked surprised at the idea. "You."
"May I call him here?"
"Only to this office. Call him by name as the heir of the house of Black."
Harry nodded and then firmly said, "Kreacher, come to the me, the heir of the house of Black."
Surprisingly to Harry, the elf popped in and looked around. When he saw Harry, he started to mutter angrily. "Did the half-blood traitor call Kreacher?"
"Kreacher, shut up," Harry said firmly and the elf immediately stopped talking. "I have orders for you. First, take this new trunk. Go to the ancestral house where you live and pack all the books in the library or that are supposed to be in the library into the largest compartment. Be sure you shrink them down to as small as they will go without damaging them, and in a way that I can restore their size with a simple 'Finite Incantantum'. Do you understand?" The elf nodded. "Good, go do that and return here as quickly as possible, and don't say anything to anyone in the house." The elf grabbed the trunk handle and popped away. Snokrok looked at Harry a little differently, but the wizard was unable to discern its meaning.
Snokrok pushed some papers in front of Harry. "Sign these to show you have received your part of the Black estate." Harry did so. "Sign these for the work requested."
Harry looked at those much more carefully than he did for the papers about the Black estate. Finding them correct, he signed them too.
"As soon as your elf returns, I will take your to your vaults to retrieve the property papers for us to sell." Snokrok started to look at some papers and otherwise ignored Harry while they waited.
Kreacher returned a few minutes later with the trunk. Harry found out the Kreacher knew where the Potter ancestral home was too and sent the elf there to collect the library and any talking portraits. That took another ten minutes and grated on Snokrok's nerves, but Harry pretended he did not notice.
This time when Kreacher returned, Harry gave him the final order of the day. "Kreacher, I want you to return home and act normal, or normal for you. However, you may not say anything about what you did for me today or even that you saw me today. While you are to be helpful to Remus Lupin as he now owes the house, you are to never help anyone find out where I am or say anything about what I ask you to do. Do you understand?" The elf nodded slowly, obviously hating the orders. "You may start to speak again when you return home. Oh, and you are never to speak to the Malfoys or Lestranges ever again. Now go home." Kreacher popped away unhappy.
Snokrok took him to his vaults this time. Harry emptied his school vault into his trunk. The approximately twenty thousand Galleons easily fit. In his family vault, Snokrok took all the deeds except one: the Potter ancestral home. Harry shrunk all the items down before placing them in his trunk and also took several compartments of Galleons. The only things he left out were his Firebolt and Invisibility Cloak. The trunk was shrunk and a strap appeared, allowing him to sling it over a shoulder for easy carrying.
Harry changed some gold into French Francs before he thanked Snokrok and left. The goblin ignored him as he walked into the back of the bank. Harry did not understand why the goblins were so unfriendly. Some courtesy would probably make people want to do more business there.
For a last stop, Harry went to the Diagon Alley post office. There he paid for seven letters to be sent, but not until tomorrow evening's owls went out. He quickly added a postscript to one before he handed them over. As he was about to leave, he asked the man there if he could check him for tracking charms as he put five Galleons on the counter. The man chuckled but did the scan. Harry was relieved there were none.
As it was starting to get dark, Harry knew he needed to hurry and leave. The Dursleys should be getting back home very soon and it might be noticed that he was not in the car. He hurried to the Leaky Cauldron, putting his Invisibility Cloak on after going through the portal but before entering the pub. He carefully walked through and then left out the far door to the Muggle world when Tom was looking the other way.
In Muggle London, Harry avoided people and made his way to the nearest alley. From there, he mounted his Firebolt and took off, flying slowly and high, just like he had last summer when going to Sirius's house.
He considered his feelings about his godfather as he flew south and a little east. He knew he had made mistakes and had some blame for his godfather's death, but he also could see the logic that most of the blame was Dumbledore's. Still, that did not ease his troubled emotions much.
Sunlight disappeared about the time he came to the English channel. As he was now away from people, he urged his broom to maximum speed. It did not take long for lights to appear in front of him, showing him the coast of France. As the air chilled from the night, Harry dropped altitude to make it a little warmer. He also put a warming charm on himself, knowing the Ministry "back home" could not stop him and he was not registered with the French Ministry.
The bright lights of Paris appeared on the horizon a little before midnight. Harry was very glad as he was now quite tired.
He found a small hotel and entered. The clerk did not know much English, but it was not too hard for Harry to put some money on the counter and ask for a "small room". The clerk took some of his money and gave him a key. The man also flashed twelve fingers at Harry and then motioned as if Harry should leave. Harry understood, he had until noon tomorrow. That was fine with him.
The plan was to get up late, get some food, then travel into the middle of Paris. Snokrok had told him where to find the Paris Gringotts. He would get some help to find a hotel there and some information as he decided where to go next.
While he had some doubts about his plan, he felt this was the best thing for everyone, especially himself. The main point was, his friends would be safe if they did as he asked.
The next day, Harry had breakfast and then donned his Invisibility Cloak in an Alley and resumed his journey on his broom, flying slowly and high in the air. Snokrok's directions were spot on and he easily found the Paris version of Diagon Alley and the Gringott's branch here.
The goblins here were a little friendlier, but not by much. Still, Harry presented a letter from Snokrok and received the key to his new vault and was told about half of the gold had arrived last night and the rest would be available later today.
Harry converted more money to French Francs and went on a clothes shopping spree, to better fit in here. He also found a decent Muggle hotel nearby, so he could remain close the Wizarding area but not in it. The rest of the day was spent looking through the items in his trunk that had come from his family vault and house. He was disappointed, but not surprised, to not find a talking portrait with his parent in it.
Late that afternoon in London, seven special owls flew out of Diagon Alley along with then others.
The first own only had to travel about a mile and was really a waste of a trip for the owl, except that it was the easiest way for Harry to get his message to the recipient. It was still early enough that the Chief Editor of the Daily Prophet was still in his office going over the stories to appear in the next morning's newspaper.
Earl Whiteside pulled the letter from the owl after checking it for magic and finding it clean. He opened it and started to read. After the first few paragraphs he almost had a heart attack. He would comply with the letter's wishes as this was first rate material and would guarantee a sell-out. In fact, he decided to order double the normal run, expecting to sell many more from the stands in the Wizarding areas. Now his only problem was to generate some commentary. He called a few people in and they got to work.
Neville received his letter next. He was surprised to get a letter at dinner time as most mail traveled overnight. He ripped it open and found another letter in it addressed to "Neville's Gran". Looking at the single page with it, he found a letter from Harry. He read through it and considered his friend's requests carefully, and Neville did now feel like Harry was a true friend.
Because of friendship, Neville took the other letter and handed it to his Gran when he went to dinner. She took it and raised an eyebrow at him when she saw who it was addressed to.
Neville shrugged. "He probably didn't know your name and that's how I always referred to you."
She nodded and opened the letter to read it. When she was done, she looked at Neville very thoughtfully. "This is because of that spot of trouble you got into at the Ministry, isn't it?"
"I'm sure that is part of it, but it's not all, Gran. I don't know what he told you, but he sent a letter to me too." He handed his to her.
After reading it, she said, "It's about the same." She handed hers to him and looked out the window to think.
She heard the parchment being set on the table and told him. "Neville, I'm an old woman and many times the old live in the past. I'm afraid I have been doing too much of that." She turned to look at him. "You are not your father, and yet, after what you did at the Ministry with that Potter boy, it has shown me that I am proud of you and have been for some time. I'm sorry I've never told you before, but you are just as good a young man as your father was at that age."
Neville felt a little heated in the face and had to look down. He was afraid he would show too much emotion if he looked at her. "Thank you," he finally said, barely able to get that out.
"Longbottoms rarely run from anything and the final decision will be mine, but what do you think we should do, Neville? Should we take young Mr Potter's advice or not?" She watched him slowly look up at her with shiny eyes, almost breaking her heart for not trusting him sooner.
Considering his answer carefully, Neville said, "I think we should send Mum and Dad to someplace else, say Paris, and see if they can help them in a new way. If nothing else, it prevents them from becoming targets. Otherwise, I think I would like to return to Hogwarts next year. I also think you should find a way to do what Harry suggests in case things get too bad."
Augusta Longbottom looked at her grandson with pride. "So be it, Neville. Come, let us have dinner for now. I shall invite your Uncle Algie over afterwards for tea to discuss this more."
Shortly after Neville received his letter, a similar letter arrived at Luna's house. The blonde girl casually handed the owl some of the food she was packing for her summer trip. Opening the envelope, she was surprised to find a letter for her and thicker one for her father. The writing was very recognizable to her.
"Daddy, you have a letter from Harry Potter!"
The man stepped in from the next room, where he had been packing their magical tent. "Oh?" He took the letter and the two began to read. When he finished, he read another letter, or rather an essay, that had been included. Seeing Luna looking at him, he handed the essay to her.
When Luna finished, he looked at his only daughter and his fondest treasure. "You know him best, what do you think?"
Luna picked up her father's letter, not wanting there to be any unknown information. When she set it down, she nudged him into a chair and then sat in his lap as she used to do when she was younger. "I know we believe the Snorkacks are in Scandinavia, but I think we should also check out Africa. It is called the Dark Continent and perhaps it's the one who's been hiding the Snorkacks in its shadow. Although I do think you should print one last edition of the Quibbler before we go."
The father held his little girl to him tightly and rubbed her head. "I am tired of putting the paper out on a schedule. Perhaps a year or two off for a safari would be welcome." He kissed the top of her head. "Let's leave the packing for now and go plan our last edition. When it's sent out, I'll mothball the printing equipment, and we can go on our safari. You will need to take your books though. We can't have you getting too behind in school."
"Yes, Daddy!" She gave him a tight hug and got up. They had a lot of work to do.
A few minutes later, a letter arrived at the Weasleys as they were having dinner. The owl flew to the father and delivered a thick envelope. He untied it and sent the owl on its way with a small piece of chicken.
Opening the envelope, he pulled out four letters. He handed one to Ron, one to Ginny, set one down that was addressed to Fred and George, and opened the last one that was addressed to him and Molly.
"What is it, dear?" his wife asked.
"It's a letter from Harry and … Merlin's ghost!" His eyes went wide as he read the first part. At her alarmed look, he cleared his throat and started to read the letter out loud. Even Ron and Ginny stopped reading theirs and listened.
When he was done, Molly looked very pale. "That poor boy…"
"But what are we to do?" Ginny asked.
Arthur stuffed the letter back into the envelope. "Does yours say anything else that might be useful?" he asked his two children. Both shook their heads. "Then I shall deliver Fred and George's and go talk to Albus. I believe we must verify this before we can decide.
Ron and Ginny nodded; Molly was in too much shock and kept mumbling, "That poor boy."
Arthur kissed his wife on the cheek and said, "I'll be back as soon as I can." Grabbing the two letters, he stepped into the fireplace to Floo to the twins' shop first.
In Crawley, an owl flew to a nicer than average home and pecked on the window. Hermione got up quickly and opened the window to retrieve the letter. Opening it, she was puzzled to see two slightly smaller envelopes, one address to her and one to her parents.
"What is it, dear?" her mother asked.
Not sure what else to do, she handed the one that was addressed to "Hermione's parents" to her mother as she opened hers.
By the time she finished her letter, to say that Hermione was shocked would be an understatement. Looking up, she saw a look on her mother's face that she had not seen in a few years, but knew it meant only one thing: she was in big trouble. Going by what Harry had written to her, it was not hard to guess what was in her parents' letter. If Harry was here right now, she would slug him in the shoulder hard for doing this to her.
"Dan!" her mother called.
"Yes, Emma dear?" he replied as he walked in from the study with a wine glass in hand.
"Read this while I go get my own glass of wine." She handed the letter to her husband and turned to her daughter. "You, young lady, will spend the next few minutes making a mental list of everything you need to tell us about the Wizarding world with regards to what you've been doing for the last five years and what's happening there that will affect us. I expect full disclosure and honesty." She stormed out of the room after her small tirade.
Hermione wilted into the chair behind her, biting her lower lip as she thought about what to say. Looking up, she saw her father sit on the couch behind him and he did not look happy. She knew she was in for a long evening and wondered if she would be returning to Hogwarts or not next year.
An hour after Hermione started her explanation, an owl arrived at Remus Lupin's house in the country about fifty miles south of Hogwarts. He was surprised to see a late evening delivery, but was pleased when he saw who it was from.
However, as he read the letter, his smile turned into a frown. When he finished, he grabbed his cloak and Apparated to the gates of Hogwarts. He used the trek to the castle to compose his thoughts and questions, of which he had many.
Minerva answered the door when he knocked.
"Good, you're here," he said as he briskly walked in before she could say anything. "We need to talk to Albus immediately. There's an emergency." He followed her to the Headmaster's office.
Inside, they found Arthur Weasley there and the red-haired man seemed very distraught.
"Albus, I received a very disturbing letter from Harry…" Lupin started.
"You too?" Weasley interjected.
"May I see it, please." Albus sounded calm, but it was obvious from his expression that it was a forced calm.
"What is this about?" Minerva asked.
"Perhaps you should read my letter," Arthur offered it to her. "I suspect it is similar to Lupin's."
"My word!" McGonagall exclaimed as she finished reading. "Albus is what he said true? Is the prophecy really about him?"
Dumbledore laid Lupin's letter down on his desk and steepled his fingers to think for a moment. "From Harry's perspective, his feelings on the matter are true as are many of his facts. However, I believe his interpretation of the prophecy to be flawed."
"But that would mean…" she trailed off as if unable to contemplate that scenario.
"What have to you done in his five years here to prepare him for what you believe, Albus?" Lupin asked angrily.
Dumbledore looked almost in pain as he said, "I have tried to give him a childhood so that he might enjoy life and see a world that he would love enough to fight for … and it seems that I have failed."
"What can we do?" Weasley asked.
After some thought, Dumbledore said, "I believe we must carry on and hope Harry is correct, all the while trying to convince him to return in case he is wrong."
Pointing at the postscript on Lupin's letter, Dumbledore commented, "It is good to see that we'll retain use of Headquarters."
It was not until the next morning that the final letter arrived at its destination: Bern Switzerland. A secretary handed a carefully checked letter to the head of the security committee of the ICW. The man was in his late eighties and easily remembered the horrors of the second world war, both magical and Muggle, as he was from Germany.
He considered the letter carefully in light of other information that had been forwarded to him from various intelligence sources. The end picture was not pretty, one might even say disturbing. It was possible this could lead to a Magical World War, and for security of the Wizarding World, that could not be allowed.
He decided to fast-track the issue and scheduled a meeting for this afternoon. A call for status would be sent to all British operatives today, especially those monitoring the Ministry of Magic. If he had it his way, they would have a plan in two weeks and starting doing something to curb this Voldemort in a month.
The man also started to consider initiating a vote of no-confidence for the Supreme Mugwump. Albus Dumbledore never should have let this happen, but since he did, it showed he was probably not the right man to be leading the ICW. He would bounce that idea off of a few others and see if they had similar concerns.
An hour later, he was handed a copy of the British Daily Prophet. While not pleased to see most of the information he had read in his letter in the newspaper for the masses to read, he was pleased to see that some of the most critical pieces of information in the letter were not published. That information would give them an edge.
The same morning the ICW received their letter, Harry rose and walked to the magical shopping area to find a newspaper. There was a stack of newspapers from the Daily Prophet. Purchasing one, he walked to a café there in the magical area and had breakfast while he read.
He was very pleased to see his letter printed in its entirety. It was mostly like the letters he had sent to his friends, except that his friend's letters had personal pleas and a little more information.
At the British Ministry of Magic, Cornelius Fudge read the Daily Prophet's leading article.
Harry Potter's Call to Action
Last night, we received a letter from Harry Potter which he asked us to print. Considering what he says, we have printed it in its entirety. For more on this, please see the expanded editorial section starting on page 4. We apologize ahead of time for the use of "the name", but this was how the letter was written.
Dear British Magical People,
As many of you may have read a week or so ago, I was involved in event that revealed to the Ministry that Voldemort (originally know as Tom Marvalo Riddle) was still alive, as I've been trying to tell everyone for the last year. It was one more event in a string of unusual events that have surrounded me for the last five years, after an even stranger event when I was one year old.
I believe it is time to tell the truth to everyone so that our entire society can fix the problem we have: pride. Of course we're proud, we're British and we had Merlin centuries ago. But we've allowed that to grow evil and now its time to pay the price as a society and fix it.
It all started about the time I was born. A prophecy was made, part of which was overheard and told to Riddle. He believed it for some reason and acted. That action killed my parents and effectively killed him too, leaving me as a survivor. Since then, I have faced him five times and have either equaled or bested him.
Why has this happened? It was the prophecy. He heard the first part:
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…
born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…
But he didn't hear the rest. The rest of the prophecy talks about my being marked, me having the power to Vanquish him, that one of us must die, and that one of us can't live while the other survives.
Yes, he did "mark" me, so I am the "Chosen One" as the newspaper has called me over the last week. However, if you look at the prophecy, I was chosen in the past, not for the future.
I was marked when I survived the Killing Curse. A curse that always works and yet it failed on me. That sound like a special power to Vanquish him. He did die that night, I killed him. I don't know if I survived because of some magic my mother placed on me or because it's a special gift I have, but on the 31st of October in 1981, Riddle died and I survived. The prophecy has been fulfilled.
But he's back you say. Yes, he did manage to cheat Death from totally taking him. For years, he was a whisper ... a ghost. Are ghosts really alive? No, not really, and neither was Riddle. Therefore, I have satisfied Fate.
Yet, over the last five years, Riddle has continued to come after me, ultimately creating a magical body to live in a year ago. A year for the Minister for Magic to deny the truth and squander opportunity to train new Aurors. A year for Riddle to grow more powerful and sink his claws into our society. A year for me to be called a liar and tortured by the Senior Undersecretary with a quill that used my blood to write with until I have scars in the back of my hand. A year for the British society to turn its back on me.
No matter what is said now, I'm tired of it all. I'm tired of being called a liar publically by the Ministry for the last year. I'm tired of being vilified by people, being believed by only my closest and most trustworthy friends. I'm tired of the corruption in the Ministry where Death Eaters can buy their freedom. I'm tired of the Ministry denying trials to prisoners (Sirius Black was innocent and Peter Pettigrew is still alive and an active Death Eater, and I dare the Ministry to give Veritaserum to the recently captured Death Eaters and ask about him). I'm tired of a Minister for Magic who will throw innocent people in Azkaban without a trial just to be seen as doing something (Fudge did this three years ago). I'm tired of taking problems to adults and being ignored. I'm tired of no one but my closest school friends standing up for me and helping me.
Therefore, since I have already fulfilled the prophecy set for me, I call the Magical people of Britain to action. If you like Riddle, a former man who had a Muggle father and uses the Pureblood families to grab power, then continue on as you are and I hope you enjoy kissing his robes. But if you don't want to live under Riddle, then it's time for you to do something.
I'm told there's over 5000 magical people here. I'll pretend more than half of them are underage. If 2000 of you were to rise up against Riddle, he could not survive. Sure it's dangerous, but so is riding a broom and then not paying attention to where you're flying, and many other daily things. Brewing a potion wrong can be deadly, yet many of your brew potions.
What can you really do? Ignore the useless pamphlet the Ministry sent out. Pick up your wand and use it in self-defense. When you see a Death Eater, cast a spell at him. There are many more of you than them and enough spells will overcome any shield. Do you know someone who is a Death Eater? Tell the Ministry, I'm told Director Bones is trustworthy. Let's get the Death Eaters arrested, given a trial, and sent to prison or executed. Without support, Riddle will have a much harder time taking over.
When Riddle shows up, treat him like a strong Death Eater and cast as many spells at him as you can. He can be taken down, I've done it.
I've done my part by Vanquishing him as a baby and then killing him twice more in recent years. I think three times is enough for anyone - I'm done fighting. Now, it's your turn. Get rid of the Death Eaters, find out why Riddle keeps coming back and remove that ability, and get rid of Riddle.
It's acceptable to be proud of yourself and your family for your accomplishments. However, it is wrong to be so proud that you look down upon someone because of supposed blood issues - because of their heritage. We are all equal under magic and having these blood predjudices fractures our society and causes us to fight among ourselves. I've seen it at school ... Riddle and his gang of terrorists trying to bully everyone as if they are better than you is more of the same. Cast them from our society and then let's all live together peacefully.
Good luck!
Harry James Potter
Cornelius Fudge knew he was done for. Potter's popularity was rising and there was no way he could defend against all the questions and charges that would be brought up by this article. Finding a quill and some parchment, he started to pen his resignation letter. Perhaps the Potter lad was correct: it was time to call it quits while you were ahead.
Epilogue:
Harry lounged outside, enjoying the warm day in the low 90's or the mid-30's, depending on which temperature scale one used. Despite the heat, it was a fine day compared to what Scotland was experiencing now in mid-January. The opposite seasons that he was in as he sat west of Port Hedland, Australia was still giving him mental fits, but he enjoyed the weather and pleasant scenery anyway.
His new home was in the low rolling hills and forests of western Australia. The school he planned to attend was hidden in the forests not far away. He could fly there if he wanted to, as long as he Disillusioned himself first.
He heard the back door slam and looked over to verify who it was. Hermione came out in a T-shirt and shorts. He couldn't help but smile as he saw her tanned legs, causing her to blush slightly. He really was going to have to figure out his feelings for her soon … or maybe acknowledge them.
"Since you've closed your books, does that mean you've finished your homework for the holidays?" she asked. "We have to be ready when the new school year starts on the first of February."
He grinned at her as she took a seat next to him in the shade of a tree. "I finished a few minutes ago. It's nearing five, will your parents be home soon?"
"They should be. Do you want to fix dinner or clean up?"
Harry considered the question. He had to do one or the other, it was the rule.
As he had been readying himself to leave Paris a little over six months ago or two days after his letter was published in the Daily Prophet, Hermione had contacted him via an owl, telling him that she was in Paris with her mother and they wanted to talk. When they got together, he was told the Grangers were leaving England too and wanted to go with him. Hermione's father was staying behind only long enough to sell the practice and their house before he joined them.
When Harry explained about going to Australia and showed her a book about magical schools there, they picked the one in western Australia. Emma Granger insisted that Harry live with them, that there were a few things he could learn from them as he finished growing up. Despite the fact that the demands were the same as Molly Weasley would have made, Harry felt about a lot better about Emma's offer because of the way she presented it. She was clear that Harry needed adults around, but that he could have a lot of freedom too. He agreed and became a "boarder" in their house. He had a few chores to do, but they were easy compared to what it was like with the Dursleys and he found he liked Hermione's parents. They opened a dental office in Port Hedland while they lived about twenty miles west of town where the houses were far apart.
"I think I'll clean up," he finally said with a grin, knowing it was the easier of the two jobs.
"I knew I shouldn't have asked," she said grumpily, although with a bit of a tease.
He watched her walk back into the house, enjoying what he was watching. Hermione was looking more like her mother as she grew older, and Harry thought her mother was attractive for her age. He wondered if the rules around the house would change if he wanted to date her. He was almost sure she would say yes if he asked.
Deciding to score a few positive points, he got up and went inside to help her get dinner ready. She gave him a pleasant smile when he started setting the table for the four of them.
The very small artificial looking fireplace in his bedroom dinged. Harry went into his room and grabbed the mail that had fallen out of it. While you could use an owl here for mail, most of the mail was delivered via small fireplaces that were only used for mail and conversations. Hedwig was not too happy about that, so Harry still used her to send mail from school to home.
"Was that the bell for the mail?" Hermione asked when he returned to the kitchen.
"Yeah, it's from Neville."
"Oh, good. What does he say?"
Harry read through it quickly. "First, he says hi to you. Ron and Ginny say hi too. Apparently Luna and her father are still in Africa as they haven't returned yet."
"What about the school and the war?"
"Good news there," he replied. "He says that they've figure out what's keeping Riddle alive and they're trying to take care of that. McGonagall came up with the idea of trying to transfigure Riddle into stone instead of killing him directly. That way they could trap his spirit in the rock then throw that through the Veil of Death at the Ministry. They haven't done it yet, but that's the plan."
"That still sounds difficult," she commented as she used a spell to peel the potatoes.
"School's going well. They believe they have all the Death Eaters out of Hogwarts, including Snape. The Ministry also believes they have captured and sent most of the existing Death Eaters through the Veil. There aren't many raids anymore as people have started fighting back."
"See, they did get your message," she told him.
He snorted. "When my letter was put on the front page of both the Daily Prophet and the Quibbler, it was hard to miss. Nevertheless, I'm glad that none of our friends there have gotten hurt. I wish they had taken my advice and left the country, but at least they aren't hurt."
Dan and Emma pulled up in the driveway, the sound of their car through the open windows was impossible to miss. They entered a moment later. "Is everything all right?"
"Yes, Mum," Hermione answered. "Harry just got a letter from England. The war's not over, but they think the end is near and life is getting better there for most people."
"That's good to hear," her father said. "How much longer until dinner?"
"About fifteen or maybe twenty minutes," Hermione replied.
Harry reached into the fridge and pulled out a Fosters and handed it to Dan, then took one for himself. "Dan, can I ask you a few things?"
"Sure." Dan followed Harry out into the back garden to where Harry had been sitting earlier in the afternoon.
"I wonder what that's about?" Hermione looked at the back door suspiciously for a moment before returning to preparing the food. "He almost looked like he was about to do something difficult, like go after some magical creature."
Emma smiled in a knowing motherly way. "I have suspicion that you're correct." She had seen how Harry had been watching Hermione lately. Six months away from all the pressures in Britain had done wonders for Harry, even allowing him to start to do many normal things, including looking at girls.
"What?" Hermione regarded her mother carefully, trying to divine what was going on.
"Don't burn dinner dear," Emma told her, turning her daughter back towards the stove.
When Hermione was not looking at her, Emma looked out the back door to see her husband shaking Harry's hand and a smile on Harry's face. Life was evening out for those two and the war in Britain was winding down. She wondered if they would go back to England one day or not, but that was a decision for another day.
(A/N: This was one of those ideas that seemed good at the start, but then didn't seem to go in a direction that I really liked. I find the ending to be somewhat lame too. OTOH, once written, it seemed a shame to waste the time and not to post it. So here it is.)