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Grave Days
By Northumbrian

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Category: Post-Hogwarts, Post-DH/AB
Characters:All
Genres: Action/Adventure, Drama
Warnings: Death, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations
Story is Complete
Rating: PG
Reviews: 153
Summary: Front page: THE DAILY PROPHET 4 May 1998

WHERE IS HARRY POTTER?

Despite the Official Ministry Statement (published above) we are no closer to receiving an answer to the question on the lips of every witch and wizard in the country. Where is Harry Potter?

It appears that Mr Potter left Hogwarts School early yesterday morning, apparently in the company of his close associates Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley. An attractive young Ministry clerk, who did not wish to be named, told The Prophet β€œHe’s at the Ministry, having an important meeting with the Minister. My friends and I saw him. He asked us out to the pub, but we had to turn him down.” This statement is at odds with a leaked report from the Portkey Office, which claims that Mr. Potter has fled the country, travelling to Australia with his companions. When asked about rumours that Mr Potter had been seriously injured and was being treated at a secret location, Acting Minister Shacklebolt said simply, "Nonsense."



Hitcount: Story Total: 115044; Chapter Total: 8418





Author's Notes:
Thanks to Andrea for beta'ing this for me.




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3: Morbid Thoughts

After lying awake for some time, listening to the pounding in his head, Harry rose and took a long bath. Returning to the master bedroom wrapped in a towel he found that all of his clothes had been cleaned, folded and neatly put away in his room. Kreacher had been very busy.

When he opened the wardrobe Harry also found a carefully flattened newspaper cutting. It was a photograph. It showed a smiling Harry with his right arm around Ginny, his left (for appearances sake) was around Ritchie Coote. Ginny looked much happier about the pose than Ritchie. She leaned toward him; Ritchie leaned away. The caption read Hogwarts Quidditch Cup — Winning Team 1996/97 — Gryffindor House: Bell, Thomas, Robins, Weasley GM, Potter (Capt.), Coote, Peakes, Weasley RB, (missing — McLaggen) — photograph by C Creevey. Harry wondered where Kreacher had found it. He found some spellotape and fastened it to the wall above his bed.

Harry sat and stared at the photograph for several minutes, lost in thought. Dozens of possible futures flitted fleetingly through his head. Some were happy, others, less so. With a sigh, he finally turned away from the photograph and dried his eyes. Dressing quickly he walked down from the third floor to the basement. When he entered the kitchen he found his house elf almost in tears.

‘No breakfast Master,’ the elderly elf whimpered, ‘no food. Kreacher has found some tea, nothing else.’

Kreacher was cowering; he obviously expected punishment.

‘It’s not your fault, Kreacher,’ Harry said gently, ‘I forbid you to punish yourself.’

The elf quivered nervously, and bowed.

‘How did you feed us before: when Ron, Hermione and I were hiding here?’

‘Money from Masters account,’ Kreacher explained, ‘but account is sealed.’

‘Sealed?’ Harry asked.

‘Goblin orders, no withdrawals.’ Kreacher muttered fearfully.

‘I’ll try to sort it out today,’ Harry realised. The goblins held all of his funds and he’d robbed their bank. He should have expected something! He checked his pockets.

‘I’ve still got some Muggle money,’ Harry said quietly. ‘I’ll walk to the Ministry and buy myself breakfast on the way. Don’t work too hard Kreacher, rest when you need to. I’ll see you tonight.’

Harry bought a sandwich from a small bakery as he walked through the bustling London streets. As he walked, he began to relax a little. He found distraction, and even enjoyment, in walking through the Muggle world. As he walked, he watched ordinary people doing ordinary things. The crowds gave him an enjoyable feeling of anonymity. He was surrounded by people, but none of them gave him a second glance. All of these people, and not one of them had heard of Harry Potter. No one here wanted an autograph, or a date!

He was one of the first to arrive at the Ministry, though he was not surprised to find Kingsley already at work in his office. The redoubtable Brenda had not arrived, so Harry simply knocked on the Minister’s door and waited for Kingsley to shout ‘Enter.’
Harry was busy telling Kingsley about his financial problems when Brenda announced her arrival. She left the Minister’s office with instructions to arrange an early morning appointment with the Goblins. Harry and the Minister then began checking a diary, trying to organise visits to bereaved families and noting the dates, times and locations of the many funerals. There were a lot of visits to be made, and a lot of funerals to attend. They were still busy when Brenda returned.

‘The goblins will see you at ten, Minister. At Gringotts,’ she frowned. ‘They claim to be unable to attend the Ministry until Friday.’

Thank you, Brenda; we’ll go to them — this time.’

‘I have a message from security, too, Minister,’ she added, ‘the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister has arrived for work.’

‘UMBRIDGE!’ Harry shouted, drawing his wand and leaping to his feet.

‘Please, Harry,’ Kingsley said mildly. ‘Try to stay calm. I’m sure that Dolores will want to meet me. Have her sent straight up please, Brenda, Harry and I would like a few words with her.’

Dolores Umbridge marched into the Ministers office a few minutes later. She looked venomously at Harry, who was sitting next to Kingsley. The Minister greeted Umbridge politely, and asked her to sit. Harry clenched his jaw and tried to control his anger.

‘I have important matters to discuss, Minister,’ she announced, ‘matters relating to recent events here at the Ministry. I’d like to discuss them privately; I really don’t think that they are suitable for tender young ears.’

‘There are no youngsters here, Dolores,’ Kingsley told her firmly, ‘Mr Potter is of age. He is the man responsible for Voldemort’s downfall. I would trust him with my life.’

Dolores Umbridge scowled but did not argue. Harry sat in silence, watching her suspiciously. She glared at him then turned her attention to the acting Minister. She gave Kingsley an indulgent smile, which failed to mask the hatred in her eyes.

‘Acting Minister,’ she began politely, her voice rose an octave as she spoke. ‘I shall be happy to continue in my post and to serve you faithfully. I have served, with some success I might add, your predecessors: Ministers Fudge, Scrimgeour and Thicknesse.’ As she spoke she was casting anxious glances at Harry, who was clutching his wand inside his jacket.

Very politely, Kingsley asked her to explain her involvement in the Muggle-born Registration Commission. Dolores Umbridge claimed that she was ‘simply following the orders of the Minister.’

‘Only following orders?’ asked Kingsley scathingly.

‘As is my duty, Minister, I followed your predecessors’ orders faithfully; rest assured that I shall do the same for you.’

Harry watched the normally imperturbable Kingsley smile; Umbridge had walked into his trap.

‘You are prepared to carry out any Ministerial orders I give?’ Kingsley asked.

Umbridge nodded, smiling.

‘Excellent,’ said the Minister, his voice loud and cold, ‘then listen carefully. I order you to present yourself to the Auror Office. When you get there, please ask to be escorted to Azkaban to await trial for misuse of privilege and for crimes against Muggle-borns.’

Dolores Umbridge broke down. She pleaded with Kingsley, leaning across his desk to implore mercy, scattering the ministerial paperwork Kingsley and Harry had been working on as she did so. Kingsley leaned back in his chair and refused every plea. Increasingly desperate, she suggested that, as Head of the Muggle-born Registration Commission, she was the ideal person to put right ‘any minor errors that may have occurred while processing such a large number of undesirables.’ Harry had to force himself to remain silent.

Harry became nauseated by her performance. Nothing, apparently, was her fault; she’d been loyal to the Minister, followed orders, nothing more. Kingsley remained impassive through every appeal. When all else failed she cried and raged; finally, she turned and begged Harry for help. He followed Kingsley’s lead and said nothing; he simply clenched his fist and showed her the faint scars on his hand, “I must not tell lies.”

Finally, she became hysterical and Kingsley was forced to call in four Aurors, who dragged a screaming and protesting Umbridge from the office. As she left Umbridge accused Harry of dozens of crimes, from breaking into the Ministry and freeing criminals, to Apparating without a licence. He’d expected to feel vindictive pleasure as she was taken away, but instead, Harry simply felt queasy.




Kingsley and Harry arrived in Diagon Alley by Portkey. The street was the same run down and untidy place it had been the last time Harry had visited, when he’d robbed Gringotts a few days ago. The beggars he’d seen previously were still there, but they were now in an orderly queue outside one shop. What had once been Florean Fortescue’s ice cream shop was now, according to the sign “The Society for the Assistance of Muggle-borns”. A hand written banner in the window read: Please help your fellow witches and wizards — give generously for the abused victims of Lord Voldemort and his followers. Harry slowed, curious about what was going on inside the building, but Kingsley reminded him that the goblins valued punctuality. They hurried on and entered Gringotts at ten o’clock exactly.

The meeting started badly. The goblins wanted Harry and “his accomplices” jailed for the robbery, the first in Gringotts history. Harry said little, but marvelled at the way the Minister countered goblin claims with wizard counter-claims. It was obvious that the goblins knew much, though not all, of the truth. Despite several minutes of harsh questioning, Harry continually refused to name his goblin accomplice. He was surprised to discover that the goblins regarded this as a point in his favour. In fact, soon afterwards Harry’s involvement in the robbery was resolved.

Kingsley persuaded the goblins to agree that, as Harry and his friends had destroyed the only item taken from the vault, a cup enchanted with darkest magic, and because the cup had, in fact, been stolen in the first place, he had not committed robbery. When Kingsley agreed to take the goblin's claims for compensation for damage caused in the robbery to the Wizengamot, the goblins finally granted Harry access to his funds.

Harry then went to check his vault, leaving Kingsley to discuss the return of Gringotts to full goblin control. To his surprise, he found that he had more gold than ever. His parent’s money had been increased very substantially by the Black family wealth. He had been rich, now he was richer. After ensuring that Kreacher would be able to access his funds, Harry took one hundred galleons from the vault then, after being assured of the legitimacy of the charity by the goblins, arranged for the anonymous transfer of five thousand galleons into the account of the Society for the Assistance of Muggle-borns.




Harry found the Wizengamot meeting much easier than he’d expected. He was cross-examined for some time about his exploits over the previous year. He confirmed the press statements, but other than praising his friends and companions, he refused to elaborate on Voldemort’s attempt to make himself immortal.

‘Mr Potter,’ one elderly wizard asked him. ‘How did you know what to do?’

‘Professor Dumbledore discovered what Riddle had done, and told me how to undo it, by destroying the objects. As I’ve said, the destruction of Gaunt’s ring by Professor Dumbledore, Slytherin’s locket by Ron Weasley, the Lestrange cup by Hermione Granger, and the snake Nagini by Neville Longbottom, allowed me to defeat Riddle.’

‘But you know the spell used?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you refuse to tell the Wizengamot?’

‘Yes.’

‘So, what is to prevent you using this Dark Magic yourself?’

‘Lots of things, not least being that unlike Riddle, I’m not afraid to die.’ Harry replied angrily. ‘But if I start appearing in public with pale skin, red eyes, and a snake-like face you’ll know it’s time to start hunting me down.

‘It’s amazing really that no-one here ever questioned the fact that the man arguing for pureblood supremacy was a halfblood who didn’t even look human,’ Harry continued. He looked accusingly at the Wizengamot. ‘His appearance should have been a pretty obvious sign that something was wrong, so why didn’t you act? He killed dozens, including my parents but when he was first defeated no one, except Professor Dumbledore, tried to investigate. You were all just happy that he’d gone!

‘But he wasn’t gone, was he? He was still there, hiding in the shadows. This time he is gone,’ he continued, angrily. ‘But more people have died. This time things must change! You allowed Voldemort to become powerful. No one tried to stop him until it was too late. You must make sure … we must make sure … that nothing like this happens again!’

The Wizengamot remained silent for some time after Harry’s outburst. Eventually an ancient and tiny witch spoke to offer Harry a medal: an Order of Merlin, first class. Harry demanded that the Wizengamot also honour many others. He listed the many people he thought worthy of medals, including Ron, Hermione and Neville. However, he did not stop there; he caused uproar when he also demanded medals for Lupin and Dobby. Several of his questioners objected to honouring a werewolf and a house-elf. Harry simply refused to accept any honour until the Wizengamot agreed to look at all of the facts, and agree to his recommendations.

He was then asked what to do about Riddle’s body.

‘You can’t give him a burial, that would create a grave; a shrine.’ Harry pondered; then he remembered Barty Crouch.

‘Transfigure his body into sand and scatter the sand in the sea,’ he suggested.

The Wizengamot agreed, and Kingsley volunteered to carry out that task personally. Two dozen members of the Wizengamot agreed to be witnesses.

Kingsley then spoke at length, telling the Wizengamot of the changes he’d made, and those he still intended to make. Harry sat silently and nodded in agreement with Kingsley’s suggestions. The meeting concluded with Kingsley being formally confirmed as Minister for Magic.

‘Go home, Harry, get some rest, get something to eat,’ Kingsley suggested as they travelled in the lift back to the Minister’s Office. Harry shook his head.

‘I’m going to write a report for them, recommending medals for everyone who fought, and I’m going to ask them to take recommendations from the others. They need to talk to everyone who was at Hogwarts before they start dishing out any medals. I’ll go home when I’ve finished.

‘I can’t order you to leave, Harry, but you should really get some rest. Please,’ Kingsley advised. Harry shook his head stubbornly.

‘I need to do this,’ he told Kingsley, ‘if I work late, I’ll come in late tomorrow.’

The Minister reluctantly agreed.

‘I don’t want to see you before noon tomorrow,’ ordered Kingsley. ‘Brenda has spoken to Mr Longbottom; he’s coming into the Ministry at two o’clock with a Mr Macmillan. We are still trying to create a comprehensive list of everyone who fought alongside Riddle. Several people escaped at the end of the battle. We must determine who is still at large, and capture them before they can re-organise. We have a squad at Hogwarts gathering names and corroborating the information provided by Madam Pince. Another squad is interviewing the captured Death Eaters. Most are saying nothing, but Mr and Mrs Malfoy are being particularly helpful. They, and their son, have provided us with an extensive list of names of Death Eaters and their allies.’ Harry grimaced at the news.

‘It would be helpful if you could double check the list they have provided,’ Kingsley continued slowly, ignoring the look on Harry’s face. ‘One final thing, Harry, I must warn you that, despite the statement we issued yesterday, the press are becoming desperate to speak to you, they are waiting outside every entrance to the Ministry, so when you leave, be careful.’

Harry found an empty desk in the Auror Office and began writing his account of the battle, recommending medals for dozens of those who had fought alongside him at Hogwarts. It did not take him as long as he’d thought. Once he’d finished, he re-checked the list of Death Eaters and their allies he and Hermione had written. It would be interesting, Harry thought grimly, to cross-reference it with Lucius’ list and see if Draco’s father had deliberately missed anyone.

It was after eleven when he left the Ministry under his invisibility cloak. He strolled past several wizards, and a lot more witches. Most, though not all, were press. After about half a mile he removed his cloak and walked through the Muggle Streets back to Grimmauld Place.

Harry gratefully accepted a mug of cocoa and a sandwich from Kreacher. He hadn’t eaten since lunchtime, he realised. At one o’clock in the morning he tumbled into bed, exhausted, and fell instantly asleep.

Harry walked into the Great Hall at Hogwarts and silence fell. The hall was full of students, most of them lying dead on the floor. Harry looked in horror at the corpses; Ron, Neville, Seamus, Dean and Lavender all lay dead. Hermione wept over Ron’s body. Fingers pointed at him, ‘Why didn’t you save them?’ the bloodied and wounded survivors shouted. Turning and fleeing from the horrific scene, he took one of his favourite short-cuts back to Gryffindor tower. As he burst through a tapestry he ran into Ginny, her arms around Michael Corner. They looked at him in disgust; turned away from him and kissed each other fervently. Feeling sick, Harry stepped backwards through the tapestry but got tangled in it and fell over.

He crashed to the floor and found himself in the master bedroom at Grimmauld Place, in a tangle of bedclothes. He had fallen out of bed. It was half past five in the morning. He did not try to go back to sleep.

Harry bathed, breakfasted, and spent the morning with a protesting Kreacher, helping the elf to tidy up the house.

‘Not work for Master.’

‘It needs to be done, and I need to be doing something,’ Harry told the elf as he began removing the broken furniture from Sirius’ old room.

Kreacher insisted that Harry eat some lunch. He prepared steak and kidney pie and followed Harry around, the meal on a tray, until Harry finally gave in and ate some of it.

Under his invisibility cloak Harry Apparated to the alley beside the Ministry. There were many more people outside the Ministry than there had been the previous night, and he had difficulty slipping through the shifting crowds.

When he arrived in the Auror Office he found Neville Longbottom, Ernie Macmillan, and Gawain Robards, head of the Auror Office already at work on several lists of names. They spent the afternoon combining the lists. Eventually they finalised a comprehensive list of those accused of supporting Tom Riddle.

‘Mr Robards has asked me about joining the Auror Office,’ Neville told Harry proudly as they worked, ‘I’m going to start work as a trainee Auror in two weeks. I’m here today to help with the lists, but I promised Professor Sprout that I’d go back to Hogwarts to help clear up. The greenhouses are in a terrible state; they will take a lot of fixing.’ Neville shook his head sadly.

They continued working long into the evening, making a list of witnesses to cross-reference and attach to the names of everyone accused. It was dull, but important, work and Harry managed to lose himself in it, the concentration required helped him to forget his other problems. Finally, they went back through the list annotating the names of those Death Eaters confirmed dead or captured.

Neville and Ernie stayed with him, working late into the night. Harry was still having difficulty reconciling the scarred, hard talking warrior Neville with the plump little round-faced boy he’d first met seven years ago. Ernie too was less pompous and more business-like than Harry remembered. While they were working, Neville and Ernie told Harry of the horrors of Hogwarts under the Carrows. Confused by Neville and Ernie’s references to “the Hogwarts DA”, he asked them what they meant.

‘There were two “Dumbledore’s Armies”,’ Neville told him, ‘the DA members who were still in Hogwarts, were fighting the Carrows. You need to talk to Justin, Katie and the others about the rest or the DA and the Resistance.’

Finally, after hours of checking and rechecking, they agreed a list of those still wanted. It was after ten at night when they finished. The list was sent to Kingsley for final approval before being sent to the Daily Prophet. Among the wanted, Harry noticed, were Rabastan Lestrange and Thorfinn Rowle. There were other names familiar to Harry, too: Bletchley, Bulstrode, Flint and Goyle, all Slytherin and all at Hogwarts with him.

Ernie Macmillan formally shook Harry’s hand and bade him an exaggeratedly polite goodnight. Neville, however made an excuse to hang back and wait until Ernie had left.

‘Harry,’ Neville began nervously, ‘can I have a word?’

‘Any time, Neville’ Harry replied, Neville looked down at his feet.

‘I want to be an Auror; it’ll make Gran so proud, but …’

‘Aren’t you sure about the job, Neville?’ asked Harry.

‘I want to do it, it’s unfinished business, but I want something else, too. I want to get my Herbology NEWT and I want to keep studying Herbology. I’d … I’d really like to teach one day.’ Neville looked at Harry embarrassedly. ‘But I really want to make sure that all of the escaped Death Eaters are caught, too.’

It was Lestrange, Harry realised. Neville needed Rabastan Lestrange to be recaptured before he could move on.

‘You don’t have to stay in one job your whole life, Neville,’ said Harry, ‘Most people don’t. If you want to help me track down the escaped Death Eaters, that’s great. When we’ve done that, you can decide whether you want to stay in the Auror Office or if you want to move on. Teaching is good.’

‘Great, right, that’s a good idea,’ said Neville. He still looked unhappy.

‘Is there something else Neville?’

Neville nodded and looked nervously around the empty office.

‘Don’t tell anyone, please, not even Ron and Hermione,’ Neville whispered.

‘I won’t,’ Harry promised, intrigued, ‘what is it?’

‘Girls,’ said Neville glumly, looking up at Harry. Suddenly, Harry saw the old, nervous Neville again.

‘Girls?’ Harry asked, “girl” would have been surprising, the plural was astonishing! Harry had a sudden vision of Neville with a girl on each arm. Desperately trying to keep his face straight he decided that confirmation was required, ‘More than one girl?’ Neville nodded.

‘There’s a girl I fancy, but she’s got a boyfriend,’ he began, ‘and there’s a girl, well three girls actually, who say they fancy me, but I don’t know if they do. ’

‘You’re asking the wrong one here mate.’ Harry was amazed; three! Then he remembered Neville’s defiance, his beheading of the snake, and he thought back to the incident in the Atrium on Sunday morning.

‘I’m no expert, Neville. All I can say is, if this girl you fancy has a boyfriend, I wouldn’t say anything to her, not unless you’re absolutely certain that she’s the one for you. Even then, if she’s going out with someone else, she must want to! So you’re probably heading for trouble. As for the others; that’s up to you. If they say they fancy you, and you fancy one of them, go for it. But they may just fancy a “hero of Hogwarts,” not you. I know nothing about girls though.’

‘Thanks, Harry,’ said Neville, turning to leave. He stopped and looked into Harry’s face. ‘See you on Saturday. Good luck with your visits; you’re starting them tomorrow, aren’t you?’

Harry nodded. He was meeting Kingsley at nine in the morning, he’d best get some sleep. He left the Ministry under his cloak, Apparated back to Grimmauld Place and collapsed into bed.

Once again Harry found himself clambering into the Gryffindor common room. Ginny and Neville were snogging. Harry watched in horror.

‘You told me to let her know, if I was certain,’ Neville said, defensively.

As Harry looked at Neville, Ginny broke free from Neville’s arms and rounded on Harry shouting and screaming:

‘You left us to the Carrows; Neville stayed and fought, he defied Voldemort, he pulled the Sword of Gryffindor from the Sorting Hat, and he killed the snake; he’s the true Gryffindor, not you.’

Molly and George Weasley entered the common room. As he gaped open mouthed at Ginny and Neville they, too, began shouting at him.

‘Get out; leave us alone, you let Fred die.’


Harry woke, shaking and sweating; it was five o’clock. He lay awake until dawn, frightened to close his eyes. It was just a dream! Neville would have told him if he’d been talking about Ginny. Harry tried to reassure himself again and again. But Neville and Ginny, with Luna, had been the leaders of the DA last year. Had they got close? He lay in bed, worrying.

Harry could not face breakfast. He met Kingsley at nine and they began making their visits to the families of the dead. Harry had agreed to accompany Kingsley because he knew that it was the right thing to do. He was not looking forward to the task; there were so many people to see.

Wednesday passed in a whirl of grieving faces. Parents of students killed; bereaved wives and husbands, children mourning parents. Harry met the families of teachers, students, Aurors, law officers and ordinary witches and wizards who had come to Hogwarts and given their life in the battle to defeat Tom Riddle.

By that evening, Harry was exhausted and grief stricken, and full of cups of tea. Kingsley, concerned for his welfare, suggested that he not take part in the following day’s visits. Harry, however, was determined to continue. That night he had an exhausted, but mercifully dreamless, night’s sleep.

Thursday was similar to Wednesday. Harry found himself falling further into grief after every visit. By Thursday evening Kingsley and Harry had visited the families of most of those who had died defending Hogwarts. Kingsley had agreed to attend as many funerals as he could, Harry, however, had refused all invitations. He told bereaved relatives, honestly, that his attendance would likely attract the press and detract from the service. He had decided to make an exception only for members of the DA, and of the Order of the Phoenix.

Harry listened to so many stories of loss, sorrow and bravery over those two days that he was overwhelmed. The names of those who’d died bubbled randomly to the surface of his brain and he desperately tried to remember who the name belonged to. That night he dreamt about Ginny again. This time he did not recognise the faceless stranger she was kissing. He rolled over and eventually managed to return to a fitful sleep.

When Friday dawned there were only three families left to visit. These were the most difficult visits; they were the visits which, he finally admitted to himself, he’d rather not make. Like the previous morning, Kreacher provided Harry breakfast in bed. It was an attempt, Harry realised, to get him to eat a proper meal. Harry had been surviving on the tea and biscuits provided at every house he’d visited over the past two days.

Harry lay back against his pillow, eating toast and marmalade, his bacon and eggs untouched. He closed his eyes and pulled his sheets tightly around his chest. Munching his toast, he thought back over the last week. He longed for company; he wished that Ron and Hermione hadn’t left. Until they returned, all he could do was work. After the funerals, he told himself, things might get better.

As he lay in bed Harry finally realised how clever Kingsley had been. Harry had been seen with the Minister every day since the battle. Kingsley had been careful to let Harry know what he was trying to achieve. People who had been Imperiused had been released; a wholesale reorganisation of the Ministry had begun. Recalling the week’s events, Harry smiled. Both Fudge and Scrimgeour had tried to bribe, flatter and threaten him into visiting the Ministry “to reassure everyone.” Kingsley had not even had to ask; he’d simply offered Harry shelter.

Harry had refused every previous Minister’s request to become a poster-boy for the Ministry; but he was doing it for Kingsley. He felt no resentment; Kingsley had sheltered him from the press and had helped in many other ways too. He’d sat in Kingsley’s office listening to the changes he was making, and he approved of the Minister’s policies.

Today though–today was going to be hard. He was visiting Mrs Tonks, the Creeveys, and finally the Weasleys. Harry wished that he could simply stay in bed. He lay there for several minutes considering doing just that. Cursing himself for his cowardice he determinedly pulled back his bedclothes and walked alonf the landing to the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, teeth cleaned, washed, shaved, and wearing clean black jeans and a faded green sweatshirt Harry opened his front door. He patted his pockets, checking that he had his wand, his watch, his wallet and his DA galleon. He threw on his invisibility cloak and Apparated to the alley beside the Ministry and walked to the ministry entrance.

Flushing himself into the Ministry, Harry considered the current security arrangements. They weren’t very good. He had a few ideas for improvements, but he wanted to discuss them with Ron and Hermione before talking to Kingsley.

Harry stopped in the Atrium and pulled off his cloak. The final remnants of the obscene “Magic is Might” statue were at last being removed. The statue was to be replaced by a simple white obelisk on which would be carved the names of everyone killed by Dark Magic since Tom Riddle began his rise to power.

Harry lost himself in memories.

When he had been waiting outside Kingsley’s office with the “Wanted List” he had overheard the Minister give the order for the obelisk. He was certain that this was deliberate, that Kingsley had meant him to overhear. Afterwards Harry had spoken to Neville, and asked him if a list of the dead would be enough. Neville had stood silent for over a minute, his curse-scarred face impassive, while Harry watched him think.

‘Thanks for asking Harry,’ Neville mused, ‘I think it will be. One thing though, the Minister is going to make sure that the Muggle and non-human victims are named too, isn’t he?’ Harry had gone straight back to Kingsley and got his assurance that everyone, from house elf to reformed death eater, would be named on the memorial.

‘Harry.’

The sound of his name brought Harry back, once again, to the present. He looked round and saw the Minister for Magic, his blue and gold robes rippling, striding quickly towards him.

‘It is time we were leaving,’ continued Kingsley. Harry turned and followed the Minister out into the street. They stepped out into a hail of flashing lights and shouts. Harry had forgotten to wear his cloak. They quickly turned into the alley.

‘Ready?’ asked Kingsley.

Harry nodded and grabbed Kingsley’s arm. They twisted and Disapparated with a crack.




Andromeda Tonks was a stoical, haughty woman who had lost husband, daughter and son-in-law. Her cool demeanour, and her resemblance to her late sister Bellatrix Lestrange, acted to temper Harry’s natural compassion. He was scheduled to spend two hours with Mrs Tonks and worried about how they would be able to pass the time.

Harry soon found a distraction in the form of his godson, Edward Lupin. Teddy was a gurgling and contented little baby. As Harry gazed down into his cot and caught the baby’s eyes Teddy’s hair turned black and untidy making Harry chuckle. Mrs Tonks lifted the burbling, month old bundle from his cot and handed him to Harry.

‘You should hold your godson,’ she instructed firmly. Harry gingerly held out his arms.

‘You’ll need to support his head,’ she advised as she showed a worried Harry how to hold the baby. He cradled Teddy carefully, and began to enjoy the experience. He soon found himself swaying and rocking his godson in his arms. When Teddy fell asleep Harry carefully sat down and nursed his godson, while reminiscing politely about Andromeda’s husband, Ted, about Dora, and Remus.

When Teddy woke screaming, almost an hour later Andromeda Tonks refused to take the baby. She was obviously determined to test Harry’s abilities as a godfather.

‘I’ll get milk,’ she told Harry, ‘you can feed him.’

So Harry fed and winded his godson under Andromeda Tonks’ tutelage. That task accomplished he rocked him back to sleep in his arms. Harry felt he had achieved something important. So, apparently, did Andromeda Tonks. When Harry gently returned the sleeping Teddy to his cot, Mrs Tonks smiled. It was the first time Harry had seen her smile, and he caught a glimpse of her cousin, his godfather Sirius Black, in her mischievous face.

‘Do you …’ Harry hesitated. ‘Do you need anything — for Teddy?’ He could not simply ask her if she needed money, but Andromeda took his meaning.

‘Bella died after her husband, Rodolphus,’ Andromeda scowled at her mention of her sister’s name. ‘So Bella inherited Rodolphus estate. When she … died … the estate came to myself … and to Narcissa. I suddenly find myself wealthy.’ There was a wistful sadness in her voice which harry recognised instantly.

‘Wealthy, but without a family,’ said Harry sympathetically.

Andromeda looked at him compassionately, her eyes wide in understanding. She looked less and less like Bellatrix.

‘I’ll try to be a good godfather to Teddy,’ Harry told her, ‘he deserves it.’

‘My sister has been very good to me in the past week,’ Mrs Tonks announced suddenly. Harry scowled, and instantly regretted his reaction. His petty thoughts, Harry realised, had been obvious to Andromeda Tonks. He would, he realised need to be much more diplomatic. He owed it to Lupin and Tonks and especially little Teddy.

‘Sorry,’ he apologised, ‘I’ve just realised that my godson is Draco Malfoy’s … cousin?’

‘First cousin, once removed,’ Andromeda said coolly; suddenly wearing her Bellatrix face.

‘Sorry,’ Harry repeated. He was almost related to Malfoy! They might be attending the same family gatherings! Would they come to Tonks’ funeral? Harry didn’t want to know.

‘Oh, well, er, goodbye.’ Harry said, making a flustered and embarrassed exit.

As they left the Tonks’ house, Harry discussed the Malfoys with Kingsley. All three were wandless. Lucius Malfoy was in protective custody, working with the Auror Office to track down escaped Death Eaters. Harry had seen Lucius in the Ministry two days earlier. Bruised, scarred, scared and shabby, Draco’s father had looked thoroughly beaten. Draco had killed no one and Narcissa, Harry grudgingly admitted, had saved his life.

It was thanks to Lucius’ information, Kingsley said, that Williamson’s squad of Aurors had located and arrested Crabbe’s mother and Goyle’s parents the previous day. Crabbe’s father had been killed in the battle. Gregory Goyle, Harry had been surprised to discover, was still missing. How could someone as slow and stupid as Goyle remain on the run?




From outside the Tonks house Kingsley and Harry Apparated to the Creevey family home. Both Justin Finch-Fletchley and Hannah Abbott were there. They, together with Dennis Creevey told Harry and Kingsley about the bravery of the Muggle-born DA members. Justin, the Creevey brothers and others, plus all of those DA members who, like Hannah had left school had been busy during the past year.

Harry looked afresh at his friends. Curly haired Justin had always been taller than Harry. This was no longer the case, though not by much. Hannah’s long golden-blonde hair was loose and brushed straight back from her round face; she was only a couple of inches shorter than Justin and at least as curvy as Rosmerta. Dennis was red-eyed and, like his brother, very small; he looked much younger than his fifteen years.

Their story was amazing. Justin, helped by his father, Sir Julian, who had money and influence in the Muggle world, had spent the last year re-locating Muggle-borns to keep them out of the clutches of the Muggle-born Registration Commission.

Katie Bell’s friend Leanne Cowper worked for the Ministry, within the Commission itself. From there Leanne had been passing information to “the Resistance,” as they called themselves. Katie had not revealed this to anyone until after the battle.

Hannah, meanwhile, had been working as a barmaid in the Leaky Cauldron. She’d been listening in on Death Eaters and snatcher squads and she, too, had been passing information to the Resistance.

Safely in hiding, Colin had turned his considerable photographic talents to good use. He had managed to obtain magical photographic developing equipment and even some official Ministry stationery. He had refused to tell anyone, even Dennis, the source.

Everyone suspected that Colin had been in contact with a well connected pureblood wizard who had provided the developing equipment and the more difficult to purchase materials. Colin, assisted by Dennis, had been busy forging the Muggle documents required to create new identities for the re-located Muggle-borns and providing fake half-blood backgrounds for those whose family trees could be faked.

The group had, over nine months of Thicknesse’s rule, saved dozens of Muggle-borns and their families from Umbridge's search squads and what Justin called ‘summary injustice.’ When Harry expressed astonishment at their work Justin, Hannah, and Dennis simply shrugged.

‘We were fighting Voldemort and Umbridge the only way we could,’ Justin had explained, ‘it was a job that we had to do. The Resistance wasn’t just DA members; we had the Order of the Phoenix, and a lot of Aurors on our side, too.’ Justin nodded gratefully at Kingsley as he spoke. ‘It wasn’t too difficult, really. We found houses across the country and simply gave the Muggle-borns new names. Provided that they didn’t do magic they simply fitted in alongside their neighbours. Most Muggle-borns can easily pretend to be Muggles and the idiot Purebloods at the Ministry, like old Toad-face, were rubbish at finding people in Muggle areas,’ he concluded.

Harry suspected that there was a lot more to the story.

‘There is one thing though, Harry,’ Hannah Abbot had added, ‘Katie gave Leanne a DA galleon, I hope you don’t mind.’

Harry had been surprised, ‘Who managed to make one?’ he asked curiously.

Hannah looked relieved, ‘No one. Katie needed one quickly — to keep in contact with Leanne, so Dennis gave his up and shared Colin’s. But when Cho was recruited, just before Christmas, Katie sent her to visit Marietta Edgecombe and Cho–persuaded–Marietta to hand her Galleon over.’ Harry was again impressed, and said so. He suspected that there was a lot more to that story too.

Harry found talking to Mr & Mrs Creevey even more difficult after these revelations. They were a small, ordinary looking couple quietly grieving for their eldest son. Harry had been unable to find words to express his sorrow, or his pride at the bravery and hard work of Colin and his friends.

Worse was when Mr & Mrs Creevey insisted on showing Harry the reams of letters from Colin describing life at Hogwarts. Worst were the hundreds of photographs: of Hogwarts, of himself, of Quidditch matches and of the brothers Creevey. Harry was ashamed to notice that in many of the photographs he was gesturing grumpily at the camera, trying to shoo Colin away.

There were photographs, too, of Colin’s classmates. Harry had finally broken down in tears; the first time in any of his visits, when faced with a photograph of Colin, Ginny, and Luna Lovegood, all proudly holding their DA galleons. They were all in the same year, in many of the same classes. They were youngest in the DA, except for Dennis Creevey, who had taken the photograph for his brother.

‘Luna wants to see you, Harry,’ said Justin as they stared at the photographs. ‘She said you could call at her house, or she’ll visit the Burrow at five o’clock and speak to you there.’

‘Do you know what she wants?’ Harry asked.

‘No, sorry,’ Justin shrugged and shook his head and the conversation returned to Colin.

Harry discovered that Colin had been working tirelessly alongside Justin. They seemed have become close during their year in hiding, though not as close as Justin and Hannah, who held hands throughout the conversation. Hannah said very little, though it was obvious that she knew Kingsley surprisingly well.

‘Hannah was our eyes and ears in Diagon Alley,’ Kingsley said. ‘It’s amazing what a barmaid can find out.’

‘All I did was serve customers, whoever they were,’ Hannah said modestly. ‘I didn’t do much.’

Kingsley shook his head, firmly disagreeing with her.

‘I should have been there, too,’ said Dennis quietly, as Harry and Kingsley prepared to leave.

‘I should have gone back to Hogwarts,’ he continued, looking at Justin. ‘Justin came to collect us when Neville sent the message that you were there. But Colin stupefied me and left me behind.’

Dennis’ parting words further saddened Harry. Bidding farewell to the Creeveys he and Kingsley prepared to make their final visit of the day, the Burrow. Soon he would be facing Molly, George … and Ginny.
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