~~Chapter 7 ~~

Monday morning, Sirius chaperoned Harry and Hermione to Dr. Ali's office.

"Good morning! Oh, this is Miss Granger, yes? Another of your disguises?" she looked at Harry as she said this. The child looked nothing like his picture identification, but had introduced himself with and without his ring to show that he was who he said he was.

That his multiple-choice portion of his exams, so far, reflected an above-average but not genius-level student indicated that he was above-board.

Hermione nodded, taking off the ring and putting it back on. "Yes, Dr. Ali. The trouble in the magical world puts big targets on us. I don't know if any of our fellow Hogwarts students will be testing in the same center today, but you may wish to put out calls to security, just in case. I know a lot of students are taking the tests around the country this week."

"Yes, Mr. Black made me aware this might be the case. I have calls out to a few muggleborn to watch the different centers." They walked to the testing rooms a few doors down. They made their way into the room and Hermione sat, pulling two fresh number two pencils from her case. Harry smiled as he did the same.

The days of the week passed quickly. After testing was completed for the day, the group would have dinners out or movies or some other fun in the evening. Harry was determined that his time with Hermione would not be completely dominated by testing, and Hermione was slowly learning to leave the tests behind when she left the examination. It went against her nature: she constantly second-guessed her own answers. But Harry needed to have a bit of normal teenagerdom that week, and after their first night out, she realized that she did, too. Each day done made her feel pounds lighter. The anxiety simply melted away.

The week passed with each of them doing their best to make sure that they could be successful in the muggle world, if they chose. It was all about options and choice at that point. Harry had no desire to go back to Hogwarts, though if his scores for OWLS were released, it would certainly set the cat amongst the pigeons.

Dumbledore had not had such a good week. He had been called to the Burrow to explain to Ronald his options as a future Hogwarts student. The child had one last chance: if he took homeschool OWLS in the spring, and did well, he could come back to Hogwarts for his NEWTS.

The embarrassment of failing out had finally done what all of his parents' and McGonagall's threats and warnings couldn't: penetrated Ronald's thick skull. If he didn't want all of the blokes to think him an eej, he'd have to put in some serious studying time and pass those tests.

It wasn't fair, in the ginger's mind. But he was out of options.

Dumbledore had tried to find where young Miss Granger was staying, but realized that the tracking charms he'd applied (and he'd applied several) were all gone. How had the child managed?

He spent a good deal of time outside Grimmauld, but did not see the teens leave (they left by floo in the mornings to go to a public floo within a few blocks of the Department for Education building. Flooing was terrible, but better than the tube at rush hour). When two successive mornings did not pan out, Dumbledore put scrying crystals outside where headquarters was, to try to track movements. He noted how late they got back on Wednesday, and camped out, disillusioned, quite a long time on Thursday before the teens returned. He quickly tagged their shoes with charms, hoping they would wear the strange contraptions the following day. (Trainers, he believed they were called, though what they trained for, he knew not.)

Though Harry wore a different set of trainers on Friday, Hermione wore the same ones. This allowed Dumbledore to follow the two to the testing center. He noted Remus with the two other people, and realized they must be the children. Another man followed, and Dumbledore believed that must be Sirius. The three were wearing glamours, though, and he would never have recognized them. Though they had stayed safe all week, Dumbledore decided he would not leave their continued safety to chance and followed to the very public and muggle building where the tests, apparently, were being held.

Death eaters would certainly not be challenged trying to take down this building. But wait, was that not Karyn Sanders – class of… oh he couldn't remember. She was a very gifted muggleborn. Worked in a DMLE liaison office of some sort now – he'd seen her testify a few times in court. It looked very much as though she was also looking for threats.

He had obviously underestimated just how deliberate young Sirius would be in maintaining the safety of his godson. It made Dumbledore feel reassured to know that.

He watched throughout the day, and nothing of import happened, though many more muggles came and went from the building. Eventually, the two he knew to be Miss Granger and Mr. Potter exited the building together. He followed at a discreet distance, but close enough to eavesdrop. He listened as the boy and girl talked about the mundane tests with a few other students. The topics they covered and terms they used were familiar to the headmaster, but not because they were used in the muggle studies curriculum. He knew the complaints about that subject were spot-on: muggle studies reflected the society that Dumbledore grew up in, not current environs. Where the magical world did not change much, the muggle world had changed incredibly quickly. He would have to see if there was a way to revamp that course as it seemed in many ways to be useless. If only he could have gotten the governors to approve of funding! Alas, at least the funding was available now. He would petition the top five muggleborn graduates of the last decade to put together a better muggle-studies program. Perhaps they could even offer courses in sciences, philosophies? The possibilities were endless.

The students soon broke off their conversations and began to amble away in their own directions. Dumbledore followed those he knew to be Granger and Potter and noticed that Sirius followed at a discreet distance, seemingly speaking into a muggle device in his hand. Dumbledore edged a bit closer.

"Did you have the problem where you had to use capacitance versus resistance? I am sure that I mixed where to put the variables in…" The girl's voice was slightly altered, both in tone and in accent, from what he knew to be that of Miss Granger. Her sound was as alien as her look. The glamour rings were excellently done. He would give young Sirius an O in enchanting, for certain. Without having followed the children from Number 12, he would never have been able to find them.

The boy poked the girl in the side, prompting a giggle from her, then put his arm around her shoulders. "You're not getting me to talk over every question on the exam, Granger. Let's go get a cappuccino."

"An excellent plan, Potter." Smiling up at him, her eyes lit as he bent down and kissed her lightly. They walked off together Albus watched the interaction with a sad sigh. They were so happy, and their young love was doomed.

Albus studied the young man closely as he followed them. Mr. Potter was more than glamoured, as he was a foot or so taller than he had been, with several stone added to his frame. He looked healthy, but this realization brough no guilt to Dumbledore's conscience. He only felt it a shame that the boy would have a taste of a good life before he had to die. And he did have to die; society's need was more important than any one child's life, sadly.

~~ this is a scene change ~~

Spring term resumed. Hermione and Harry were both relieved to be done with GCSE's and starting to get revved up for OWLS. Hermione spent a great deal of time in a purloined classroom, studying with the mirror open to Harry. Now that Ronald was out of the school, Hermione felt a bit safer having the mirror and map out. Not many bothered her outside of their study groups.

Things in the tower had calmed significantly. The rest of the fifth years and seventh years seemed to buckle down to get ready for exam season. Even the twins were studying, and their product testing seem to have completely stopped.

Though Ginny gave Hermione cold shoulder, Gred and Forge were warm again. They'd heard what their mother had tried to do. Apparently, she had tried to push Hermione into a betrothal with Ron. That was just plain wrong. They knew why she was trying to do it: Ron needed help and always would; Hermione would get nowhere in magical Britain without a pureblood or half-blood partner. It could be win-win

Except Hermione now despised their brother.

They had been looking for a time to apologize to her but didn't want to air their family's dirty laundry in the great hall. She was almost never in the tower. So they searched. They found her in a classroom, surrounded by books, a mirror and… what was that?

Was that the Marauder's Map?

"Where'd you get that?" George asked, looking shocked at the parchment he was sure had been destroyed by evil muggles.

She looked at them and decided to come clean. "Dobby saved Harry's stuff," she answered flatly. The twins looked at each other and then just stared for a second at the younger witch.

"He still has the firebolt?" Fred asked, relief evident in his voice. That was a masterpiece of a broom.

"Yes," Hermione said, coldly. "And it is his. Not yours. Not Ginny's."

"Pax, of course not!" George realized just how offensive his family had been to Harry and Lord Black. It had taken a talk with Angelina to really show how the demands had probably come across to Sirius, Harry, and Hermione.

Hermione relaxed a little. They seemed genuinely repentant about the whole 'stealing the squib's stuff' thing.

"What can I do for you gentlemen?" she asked, sitting down and sipping at a cup of water.

"We were actually looking to apologize. We got wind through Ginny of what Mum and Dumbledore tried to do."

Hermione remained silent.

"It's one thing to think that squibs should be separate – we don't think that, but we do understand that for most folks, they just don't know what to speak with squibs about? Magic is so much of what our mum is. We didn't really think about how she treated Harrykins until you pointed it out. And then, for her to try to force you to date our brother? That was really beyond the pale." Fred gave the longest speech she'd ever heard him give, and none of it was in twin speak. That alone showed how serious he was.

"It's always been bad," George agreed, "the way she tries to boss us kids around. But for her to think that the only use another person has is if they can be of use to our family? That's just wrong. It's death eater thinking, that."

"Not that our mum is a death eater," Fred interjected.

"Just that she has tendencies," George continued, the twin speak back.

"We blame her Cavendish genes. They were terrible blood snobs." The twins nodded at each other then turned to look at Hermione synchronously.

Hermione watched the confession and gave her absolution with a sigh. "I get it. My own parents are on the other side of the spectrum. They're snobs without magic."

"Maybe it's an adult thing," George postulated.

"We'll just have to make sure to never grow up!" Fred's conclusion made all three laugh. Hermione began to pack up her things, and the three made their way slowly to the tower.

"Ron is studying – hard – for OWLS," one boy began.

"Mom is coaching him in potions, herbology, and divination. Dad in transfigurations and charms," the other continued.

"Bill comes over once a week and tutors him in defense. Percy tutors him in history." The twin speak would have made her dizzy if she were required to look at the speaker.

"And floo calls with Charlie for care. He works on homework like ten hours a day – when he's not doing chores."

"He's actually not dumb," Hermione admitted. "He's just so terribly lazy."

"Mum's not allowing that. He's the kind of bloke who needs someone harping on him."

"Which is why they wanted me with him?" Hermione didn't know if she should be insulted or flattered.

"I think if he makes it back to Hogwarts – Dad says he has to have 5 OWLS to be able to come back – he'll be a bit more grateful for the slot. I think he'll leave you alone, too."

"Though you are serious witchona non grata in the Burrow right now."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Right, because your brother's academic success is my responsibility. Your mother is insane."

"We know. But honestly, aren't we all?" Fred elbow jabbed Hermione who laughed. She'd said practically the same thing to Harry. It was a mad world, the magical world. She would miss it if she decided to leave it behind.

~~ this is a scene change ~~

In June of 1996, the week after tests were administered to all of the major magical schools, OWLS and NEWTS tests for non-school testers occurred in a small, secure building on the outskirts of the small magical village of Corleigh-on-Offwell. Each year, the testing center moved - a security measure designed when many of the off-standard testing students were those under threat of harm. Only the test administrators and aurors assigned for security (a cush job that many hoped to nab) had any idea where the tests would be. Glamours were allowed on the students as the testing documents had such strict truth protocols on them. Only the records in the department of education – under the same secrecy protocols – had true records of students' names and scores.

Rita Skeeter was at a loose end looking for scandal. Since the clean-up at the ministry under the Bones administration, there had been few opportunities for true muck-raking. The last big lead she'd gotten was when the board of governors had been gutted and reformed. She'd had fun pulling apart some of the lives and lies of those governors.

She had a few stories in the background: deep research on Dumbledore, Bones, Ogden, Longbottom… but there was nothing really juicy there. There was something off about the downfall of that Snape character. Why had the guild gone after Pomphrey in the first place? But all of their records were sealed tighter than a rich man's purse-strings. There was something there, so she kept probing. She found something about a healer named Zhou – his appointment with one of the main guild members coincided nicely with the start of the investigation – but she'd yet to find Healer Zhou. She would, though.

But the last true muck she'd discovered had been with the department of education. Who would have thought there was dirt to dig, there? Well, she was off to find if there was more. Birmingham Acadamy, Hogwarts School and the other small schools had their NEWT and OWLS scores in. This week was the week that home-schooled students tested. Perhaps there was an illegitimate heir amongst the testers? Sneaking in via her animagus form, she waited for the last clerk to leave for the night before silencing the room and putting up privacy wards. She might run into wards, true, but she had that little ward breaker courtesy of her… information on Fulwark, and now that bastard was dead, no one need ever know. Anonymous sources were so useful in giving her information she wasn't supposed to have.

Much to her surprise, the ward breaker wasn't necessary. Here was the list of students to be tested: Abercrombie, Blythe – hmm, related to Stewart Blythe? Lord Blythe? She noted the name and turned to the next record. She was well through most of the list when she stopped, floored.

Potter.

Harry James Potter.

The boy who got kissed was taking OWLS?

The boy still had MAGIC?

Oh, this was a story beyond any that she'd had since that event. A squib getting magic back. How did he do it? His godfather was Black, perhaps it was through dark rituals? Never mind that. Blacks were known to eject or outright kill their squibs. If they knew how to grant back magic, they would have sold the process to all the other dark families and their family never would have fallen. No.

Beyond that logic, the kid knew her form and Black, no matter how much the family had fallen, had proved himself to be a bastard still, through what he did to both the board of educational governors and Gilded Publishing. She'd not cross him.

She would couch it as a miracle. Yes, that was the right way. She quickly took evidence of the OWLS application and the scores he already had. That those scores were stellar played into her story. Back and better than ever. Yes… that would work.

The next morning – the last day of OWLS testing that had begun not thirty minutes before – The Prophet (late that morning) had an exclusive that was delivered to subscribers nationwide.

"Boy Who Lived Does It Again"

The story went on to highlight the fact that Harry was taking OWLS with homeschoolers that week. He was not merely taking the non-wanded subjects, either, as many squibs did. He had already taken – and passed with honors! – subjects such as transfiguration and charms. Indeed, it seems that the dementors must have actually given Potter some brains, as his previous grades reflected none of this prodigious talent. Perhaps the Boy would even save us all, again!

Reactions were mixed. None of the parents who had dropped off their children had seen Potter in the group – but he could be using a glamor, as the article postulated. Most, though, hoped rather than believed that Skeeter had written truth.

Voldemort was one who hoped. He gathered his forces – diminished though they were – and demanded information from their contacts in the ministry. Where were the tests being held?

Dumbledore read the article with a feeling of dread. Could Harry still have magic? It was possible. But this put a huge target on the children taking those tests. The castle was empty; the staff were taking a well-earned break after their own students had returned home. Dumbledore put the call out to the Order and portkeyed to London. He had to find those tests and do what he could to mitigate damage.

~~ this is a scene change ~~

Harry, of course, didn't realize his secret was out.

He sat taking the last of his OWLS – history today - with the other home schooled and tutored students. He'd avoided the other students since he saw Ron in the group. It was good Hermione had warned him the ginger would be testing that week. She was waiting at Grimmauld for him to finish. They'd travel to France to see her parents, together, so that Harry could vacation with his own family. He'd never gone on vacation before.

But for the moment, he sat, four seats in front of Weasley, wanting this phase of his life to be done. As he wrote out his long answer to the transition from Celtic magic to Roman magic in Britain, adults gathered outside the building. No one could warn him of a possible death eater attack: there were protocols that prevented violating the testing space or contacting the people inside.

Parents, guardians and a few others who had believed Skeeter's story and were able to find out where the tests were held were waiting outside of the testing center. A cheer rang up through the bystanders when Sirius Black and Albus Dumbledore – along with the rest of the Order – apparated in just as the hour for testing ended. It was obvious that The Boy Who Lived was in the testing group! The grim looks on the men's faces, though, were unexplained. Dumbledore and Shaklebolt approached the two aurors guarding the door. The fear and determination that appeared on those officials' faces put a sudden lid on the feeling of celebration.

None of the bystanders seemed to realize that they were now bait for a Death Eater attack. Moments later, students began to exit the building. One of the young men – a lanky redhead - looked startled at the presence of the Order. Though it was Ron Weasley, not Harry Potter, that recognized the fighters for the light, it was the sign the Death Eaters were watching for. Voldmort's contingent of fighters raised anti-apparition and anti-portkey wards and attacked. They had been waiting, disillusioned, just outside the building's own ward lines.

The sound of Avada Kedavra filled the air, and the defenders for the light raised rubble and other physical shields to block the unforgivable. Many of Voldemort's talented fighters were dead, and the killing curse took hatred, power, and crazy that only a few of the remaining death eaters could channel at all, let alone multiple times. The first barrage – terrifying but basically useless – was the last time the killing curse was heard for a while.

Even Voldemort had trouble casting the avada kedavra more than two or three times consistently since his botched resurrection. He could still kill, though. He cast a withering curse at the treacherous Black and bone liquefying curse at the spineless werewolf. Those two should have been on Voldemort's side, not Dumbledore's. They were strong fighters who should have been dark. Black evaded his curse.

The wolf didn't.

Well, one down. They would all pay for their lack of sense today. He blocked a stunning spell from Dumbledore and moved to target more of the strongest fighters.

Shaklebolt, Moody, Tonks, Jones, Vance, and the two aurors on duty were defending the civilians as best as they could while diffindos and bombardas interspersed with bone breakers, blood boilers, and heart stoppers flew in their direction. The aurors were targeted the hardest in the hopes, on the death eaters' part, that the rest of the defense would fall with their talent gone.

After all, that's how the dark side often reacted.

One of the aurors emergency medallions began to sound, but by the time backup arrived, it would be far too late.

Ron Weasley felt all of the blood leave his face and his stomach knot as his brother, Bill, fell. His brother, the curse breaker. His brother the head boy.

His brother.

Ron took a deep breath and aimed his wand at a death eater mask. He didn't use the bat bogey or the jelly legs or even stupefy. They hurt his brother. They maybe… kill… NO.

The blasting curse took the death eater out of commission but brought the attention of two other death eaters. They had realized this was not Harry Potter. But it was a blood-traitor Weasley. Ron's training in DADA from his brother (not his brother! Not Bill!) came to the fore. He shielded and moved and cursed for all he could. When a stray cutter got his ear, he kept fighting. It seemed like hours he was fighting.

It had been seconds.

He didn't see his own mother curse him in the back – a stunner that felled him instantly – to get him out of the way.

Then Molly started eviscerating a few death eaters of her own. Target her children? Her boys? Oh no, not today. She put Bill's fallen form out of her mind and cast an overpowered blasting curse, putting all of her desperation, anger and hatred into it. That group of death eaters went down and did not get back up.

Two of the examiners came out of the building to see what the ruckus was and fell almost immediately. The students and spectators mostly huddled in terror, though some threw spells back at the death eaters, who had concentrated on fighting the Order. Once a small resistance started, the other innocent bystanders gained some courage and began fighting back, resulting in a stalemate. Voldemort had few seasoned death eaters left, and many were unable to concentrate when they, themselves, were under fire.

Meanwhile, Harry concentrated on protecting the crowd. He had blocked a number of unforgivable and mirrored back several hexes and jinxes. The death eaters were losing, though the toll for this win would be a high one. Voldemort himself entered the fray fully and began to throw spells at a number of the people, but Harry stopped them from being fatal. He held the elder wand with dexterity and confidence, and his shields were incredibly strong.

And Voldemort noticed that the student who looked nothing like Potter was the only one who was giving him consistent trouble. And he noticed the glamour ring.

That was Potter. Voldemort smiled. It could finally end.

The dark lord concentrated on the boy, and much of the rest of the fight died down to watch. Harry blocked and parried and returned curse for curse, jinx for jinx. There was no expelliarmus thrown out in this fight. It was a fight to the death.

Most believed it to be a foregone conclusion and felt for the poor boy who would never become a man.

Harry concentrated all of his volleys on the leader of the pack while Sirius gave Harry cover from any stray curses. Voldemort, seeing that Sirius was the only barrier betwixt him and the infernal little shit, hurled a massively-overpowered cutting curse. Harry's shield blocked most of it, but Sirius was down. Harry quickly put himself in front of Sirius and blasted at the sidewalk in front of the invading force. Many of the remaining death eaters went down with shrapnel injuries. Dumbledore began the job of stunning or containing them all. A loud gasp from the crowd was the first indication that the barrage of magic had nullified Harry's glamour ring.

Harry Potter stood – taller and filled out, his curse scar just a light, white line, his green eyes defiant behind sparkling glasses.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed. "I see the rumors of your squibdom were greatly exaggerated."

"I see the rumors of you actually being a wizard and not some loser in a snake suit were unfounded, also," Harry snarked back. Voldemort tossed a silent glowing-purple spell at Harry, and the younger wizard batted it away. It impacted one of the remaining death eaters who fell immediately, screaming in pain. Voldemort snapped a silencio at the suffering man and turned back to the thorn in his side.

The power that the child seemed to now embody bothered Riddle, and that realization enraged the dark wizard. "It is time for this to end," Voldemort ground out and sent an avada kedavra towards the younger wizard. He was absolutely flummoxed when a hooded figure stepped between them and caught it.

"That is enough of that," it said. The myriad dark tones of the voice sent shivers down Tom's spine.

Death.

He was looking at Death.

The rest of the crowd was frozen; none interfered. Indeed, Death had erected a bubble in which only the two main players were completely aware. They were outside time and space just then while the family squabble was settled, once and for all.

"Tom Riddle, Tom Riddle. Why have you done such things? It is ironic – you are from the house of death, the Peverells, and yet, you run from death."

"I embrace the death of others," Riddle groused, attempting his best sneer.

Death chuckled, and it was a horrific sound. "Defiant to the end. Shall I explain to you why you failed?" He walked toward Riddle and that man held firm… barely.

"Your explanations mean nothing. Do what you will." The jig was up. The piper was demanding payment. And Voldemort knew he had lost.

"Well, Master of Death, what would you will for the defiance of this subordinate member of your house?" Death looked toward Harry, who had stood, observing the confrontation.

Harry was silent for a moment, contemplating. "He needs to pay here. They all," he swept his hand toward the suspended crowd, "need to have his terrifying mystique quashed. Remove his magic. Let justice have him."

Death inclined its terrible head and disappeared. The bubble collapsed, the curse that had been rushing toward Harry rebounded and returned, instead, to Riddle, encompassing him in a silver light. The pulsing lasted for long moments, the astonished crowd watching in wonder as that terrible beast was felled, seemingly, with his own rebounded curse.

Riddle made no noise beyond a grunt, though the pain was excruciating. It, somehow, built and built until finally he could hold back no more. He leaned his head back and screamed, screamed in pain and anger at his loss. He could feel the magic ripped from him, through him, purified and returned to the ley lines.

When it was done, he fell to the ground, panting in grief and pain. Two of the aurors who had responded but had, until that moment, been unable to cross the death eater wards came forward to stun the maniac. They were stymied when their stuns worked.

Pulling out magic-suppression cuffs, the first roughly rolled the suspect over and secured him while the other called in the situation to headquarters.

A few of the crowd thought to get to Potter, the boy who vanquished Voldemort, to thank him, to touch him… but they hesitated. Most were too scared of him to even approach. One – an elderly, bearded man with an ocean blue robe sporting random surfacing orca – was the first to reach the young hero and erected a strong privacy bubble around them. Aurors and healers started popping into the scene now that the anti-apparition wards were down.

Dumbledore felt anger and shame at being angry. Tom had fallen, after all, in a better manner than Albus could have ever planned. He looked at Harry, who was, contrary to the prophecy, still alive and studying his fallen nemesis with fatigue that belied his youth. Albus needed answers, though.

"You have the hallows." It was an accusation. He saw his own wand in the child's hand and realized how Harry had reflected a killing curse. He was a master of death.

Without actually acknowledging Dumbledore's presence… still staring at the stunned, horrific form of Riddle, Harry nodded grimly. After casting his own privacy charm, he slid the elder wand back into its holster. Apparently, he was handling both the stupid old men in his life today. "As I was fated to." Dumbledore then noted the presence of the ring on the head of house finger. More pieces fell into place.

"The power of Peverell family magic," Dumbledore wondered aloud.

Harry nodded in confirmation, "It was the power he knew not." Then he smirked a little.

Dumbledore's eyes widened at confirmation of what had happened to the prophecy orb – well before Yule. This child had hidden his magic from Dumbledore for half a year! At least! But it would explain the lengths gone to protect Miss Granger's thoughts. Goblin mithril was deadly expensive… and protected this secret from all.

Harry continued as he watched the medicals treating the victims and the obliviators handling the two muggle hikers who'd stumbled into in the area, "Voldemort could have known it. Before he destroyed his own soul, he should have known it. But he could not be family head once he mutilated his soul and his magic."

Albus thought of the family tree he and Gellert had painstakingly produced. "Your father's connection would have superceded?" he asked, his voice ringing with doubt.

"No," Harry denied, "the Gaunts had primacy through Cadmus, who was older than Ignotus. But Antioch – the senior of the three – was actually not childless. And my mother was the fruit of his line."

Resignation filled the old man, stomping out any hope he had for refuting the younger's logic. "The wand was always yours."

"Yes," Harry confirmed simply. They were silent for a moment, Harry thinking how he had believed, if he ever had this confrontation, he would be screaming recriminations and demanding answers, reasoning, compensation… something. Instead, it was just a bad chapter in the book of his life that he wanted closed.

"Will you come back to Hogwarts?" Albus asked almost neutrally. It would be a great boon for the school if Harry would come, he knew. Those who had never held the hallows – meaning most of the crowd – did not see death there. They saw Voldemort's curse rebound and wipe out his magic, instantaneously. When asked for his opinion on the reason, Albus would answer that it was almost certainly family magic; that somehow, perhaps through Lily Evans, Tom Riddle and Harry Potter shared family magic. After Tom killed Lily, the family magic was primed to deny him the ability to kill Harry. When he eventually did give this explanation, Harry agreed publicly and was gratefully surprised that Dumbledore seemed inclined to let it all go. But at the present point in time, Harry had more than a bit of bitterness still.

Harry snorted a humorless laugh at the question of returning to Hogwarts. "You know, in September I was gutted not to be on the express. Hogwarts was my first home."

"I apologize…" Dumbledore began but saw immediately that it was not the right time or the right tactic. He'd not shown any remorse of how he'd perpetuated abuse on this young wizard. So, he stayed silent, firming his lips, and looking down to the ground in shame. Harry didn't know if the pose was genuine – he didn't really care. He hoped that this wizard, in charge of a good portion of the nation's children, had learned a lesson. But he would wait for actions, not words.

Harry sighed, "This year has allowed me to see… you never protected me there. It was a fishbowl for a kid who had no preparation. I was a hero or a villain and you never, ever helped with that perception. None of the faculty did."

Albus nodded. "There was not a great deal that we could do. Once Hagrid spread the tale of your survival, your fame took on a life of its own. I tried to stop the publications and the postulations, but the law was not on my side. They used your name, so they paid an 'appropriate fee' to your vault – nowhere near what they should have, of course - but I wasn't your official regent, so I couldn't stop publications."

"Sirius took care of that this year," Harry said with a bit of pleasure in his voice.

Dumbledore nodded with a smile, noting that man in question was arguing with a healer while looking at Harry, "It was one of the high points in my year to read that Gilded Publications went bankrupt. They were the worst offenders, writing those atrocious Boy Who Lived adventures. But you see, how could I step in, stop the whispers or staring without it seeming that you received preferential treatment? Even when they were calling you Heir of Slytherin – my boy, there are no rules against bullying in the Hogwarts handbook. Until this generation, hazing was actually encouraged to keep children in line. I made proposals for changes to the board several times in the last decade."

"I know; Sirius pointed it out to me. The board was pretty ridiculous in not allowing the things that were truly necessary for the safe running of the school. None of the other schools had to go through their ridiculous posturing. They just wanted control of the elite class."

"And your godfather is making them pay for it." Dumbledore stated with a satisfied smirk. "I was not even allowed to punish a group of Ravenclaws that continually stole items from young Miss Lovegood, often forcing her to go without matching shoes." Harry's eyes widened and his jaw dropped at that admission.

"What? That's theft!"

Dumbledore shook his head. "She never lodged a formal complaint. They never sabotaged her academically, never harmed her physically, and they always returned all objects before years' end, so it wasn't technically theft. Compare that to 'Potter Stinks' buttons, and you see that my hands were truly tied."

"Perhaps if you hadn't allowed Snape to ghost curse me, I wouldn't have had quite the miserable time, though. And that is nothing on the subjugation deal you hexed me with." Harry shot through the Headmaster's justifications with that truth. Albus shook his head shortly and let out a ragged breath. He truly had no justification.

"Water under the bridge, I'm sure," Harry continued bitterly. "As far as returning to Hogwarts? It was bad as the Boy-Who-Lived. Now? With being whatever-hyphenated-stupid-name they give me? I cannot imagine the nightmare that attending Hogwarts would bring. No, though I wish I could, I cannot believe that I'll return to Hogwarts. I'm sure half of them will think me the new dark lord no matter what explanations, reasoning, logic, or facts are presented," he finished with more than a tinge of bitterness. Albus's eyes danced a bit.

"Magicals can be frustrating for those with a nonmagical background. My own mother was a muggleborn, did you know?" Harry shook his head in the negative. The most powerful wizards – Voldemort and Dumbledore – were both half-bloods. Go figure.

Dumbledore continued, "Being a half-blood, I had a good foot in the muggle world. Studied maths and philosophy. It was such a time for discovery…" he trailed off, thinking of all the advances muggle science and technology had made in his lifetime. And how few pureblood wizards seemed to grasp even the basics of those advances. "It astonishes me to this day how basic logic stymies many magicals. I understand it, of course. Muggles' lives are dominated by action-consequence pairs, leading to definitions of those actions and consequences. Magic defies much of that. Natural concepts like gravitation and thermodynamics, conservation principals, even Newton's most basic laws seem to fail in the magical world."

Harry's head tilted at this turn of conversation. He nodded. "Hermione postulates that natural laws hold on the quantum level, but on the macro scale, they seem to fail due to magic. It gets a bit beyond me, her argument, but I can reconcile it well enough. I don't think Ron even gets the concept of inertia."

"Your friends… you could take these final two years to build better relationships with them at Hogwarts. You must have felt isolated this last year." Albus prodded.

"I have few friends in that castle, I think. Many of them that I thought friends were fair weather." There was a tinge of bitterness to his voice.

"Many of those raised in the magical world cannot comprehend trying to live without magic. Indeed, among many in your year and many of the quidditch players, there was almost a sense of mourning for what happened to you." The Weasleys were leaving now – Bill was stabilized and Ron, now missing an ear, held onto his brother's hand as the healers prepared to transport them to St. Mungos. Molly seemed to have lost her steam and looked around, in shock, as she viewed the carnage.

Harry thought perhaps a world without magic might not be so bad. Of course, nonmagicals slaughtered each other on the regular, too. But at least they didn't expect Harry to bail them out.

"I suppose that it would be hard to know how to speak to me, let alone what to write, when I had lost what most of them hold only second to oxygen as a necessity." Harry was a bit exasperated that he understood the Headmaster's point. Sirius looked much better after the care of a healer of some sort and was now focusing on Remus, who was still unconscious. As the wolf would have been a stronger defender, he was eliminated with the most force at the beginning of the ambush, by Moldy himself. That Remus was still alive was a miracle. That he was being treated without prejudice by a medical was, to Harry, quite stunning. Of course, he hadn't been evacc'd to Mungo's, as the injured aurors and civilians had been, and wouldn't be due to his werewolf status, but at least they were trying to help.

"You would find that you have more true support than you suspect," the headmaster continued trying to push for Harry's attendance at Hogwarts. "Most of the school sided with you in the face of Mr. Weasley's campaign for Miss Granger's affections." His eyes danced with humor.

Harry let out a snicker of a laugh. "I cannot fathom why Ron would think it a good idea to pursue Hermione. They had nothing in common except me. She's smart, he's… clever. She's a hard worker, he… isn't."

Albus chuckled. "I see that your uncles have been teaching you the art of back-handed diplomacy." It was the Black ring, actually, but Harry wouldn't explain that.

Harry nodded then let some of his anger come back. "I keep in touch with Hermione, as you well know from raping her mind, or rather having Snape do so."

Dumbldore stiffened. "I take offense to that."

"Those actions are offensive. She's a teenage girl. You had a death eater rifling through her personal thoughts."

Dumbledore's mouth tightened, but he could not deny that he had tried to breach the protections around Miss Granger's mind. She had been his only insight into young Harry. Even now, he knew that Harry had been the key to this victory. What Dumbledore couldn't fathom, and still seemed to be unable to grasp, was that he, himself was completely unnecessary to defeating Voldemort.

"I… apologize. I believed that I would need to play a bigger part in the denouement than I have." That he hadn't even cast a spell against Tom was still a surprise to the headmaster.

Harry chuckled grimly. "Sirius has been trying to get me to see how it's been for you. The entirety of society pinning all their hopes and plans on you saving them. I guess you bought the hype?"

Dumbledore shook his head. Crow tasted terrible. "I suppose that you are correct. It is rather humbling, after all these years, to be rendered superfluous."

"You're not. Your presence at the castle kept Voldemort from going near Hogwarts." This concession soothed the headmaster's wounded pride. Harry was learning some diplomacy, though he certainly hated it. He could see the world was not black and white. He would never view Albus Dumbledore as an ally again… but perhaps he wasn't the enemy. At least he wouldn't be angling to get Harry killed, now that Riddle was done.

"As for Hermione," Harry continued, "she may return to Hogwarts – then again, she might go with me to day school and use tutors for NEWTS. The choice is hers. But if I hear that anyone tries to take revenge on her for this victory today? It won't be good. I hope you've got those bullying codes passed now?"

"We do." Dumbledore concurred. "Additionally, we have a number of new classes as well as our own tutors for muggle subjects… should any muggleborn wish to continue them or mage-born wish to pick them up…" Dumbledore tempted. Harry knew about those. But he wasn't sure he could handle the people in the castle.

Sirius had argued that he needed to make himself available to the public to get them used to him again. Hogwarts would be a small slice, and by the time he left, the mystique would be gone. Assuming Harry had two quiet years.

Hope springs eternal, after all.

"I really don't see…" Harry sighed "I haven't made plans yet, but I will let you know by August. Now if you'll excuse me? The healer seems to be done with Sirius and Remus." The boy strode toward away from Dumbledore, ignoring the looks of awe he was getting from the crowd that had watched him fell the worst dark wizard in recent times.

~~ this is a scene change ~~

It wasn't respect or awe that drove the aurors to treat Voldemort with kid gloves: all feared the monster (and he didn't even look remotely human) of a dark lord. But as they processed him, they noticed a strange fact. He didn't seem to have any magic. They had a healer come in and tested further as every suppressor came off. No change was found.

Voldemort was a squib.

As the casualties mounted in St. Mungo's, a stranger situation seemed to surface. Every marked death eater, whether cut or bludgeoned or simply stunned shared the same symptom: they, too, had no magic. What was unknown at that point was that, when Riddle's magic was removed, it affected his slaves' tattoos. Voldemort had always buffered his magic with his death eaters' magic. It was part of the reason he had lost so much ground when Nagini had killed one group and the other group at Azkaban had been kissed. Today, every remaining marked death eater fell. They all lost most of their magic and became low level wizards and witches or squibs.

Rumor trickled out and Sirius heard it as he was watching Remus being treated. He heard it as two healers came to him, asking for information on Harry, who was helping some of the people who hadn't been able to portkey out yet. There was talk of sponsoring a study of how Harry got his magic back. Sirius blocked it all out: when his boy was squibbed no one cared how to fix it.

Aurors and scene cleaners were still taking evidence. As they were gathering information on the site of the battle – as all of the blood and gore was being cleaned around them – Harry stood, numb. Dumbledore was being treated by a healer while talking to an auror. Harry stood, numb. Sirius was working with another healer, still trying to fix what they could for Remus. Harry stood, numb.

Finally, the tide of casualties was quelled and the curiosity of the situation overcame the awe. A healer approached, wanting to speak to Harry, and the boy trained his wand on her. The others around them stopped and watched, wondering what had triggered Harry.

"I remember you," Harry said in a harsh whisper. "You're the one who told me 'Mungo's is for wizards, Potter. You'll need to leave this bed for someone who deserves it.'" His mimicry somehow embodied the scorn that had been heaped on Harry when he was already down. Obviously, the boy was no longer the forgive and forget type.

The woman blushed with shame at being called out. "I apologize, Mr. Potter. It seemed like…"

"It seemed like I was a kid attacked by dementors. A real healer wouldn't care if I was muggle, squib, wizard, or house elf. I have a healer. And here he is." Dr. Zhou had apparated to the scene after hearing of it on the wireless. This child must have been born under a bad sign: trouble surely followed him. Alas, he was always an interesting case.

Dan Zhou looked at Tamara Kirkland and shook his head. They had dated, once upon a time. She dumped him when he wouldn't keep his patient list to the cream of society. "This is my patient, Healer Kirkland."

She stood, looking from the man she had dumped for better options to the young, strong Lord Potter who would almost certainly be the hailed hero of this battle, whom she had denied treatment.

"I believe you've been dismissed?" Lord Black interrupted her stream of indignant thought. He would see to it that this healer never rose to decision-maker in Mungo's.

Dr. Zhou put up a privacy bubble and started running tests on Harry. He healed a few stray cuts and bruises, but found the kid to be in excellent shape – especially having just survived a pitched battle.

"You okay?" he asked, looking into Harry's eyes.

"Probably gonna need to go see Dr. Cranshaw some more, but physically, yeah." Dr. Crenshaw was the mind healer Harry'd been talking to about the abuses of his childhood. Now he had death and gore and pitched battle to deal with.

"Sirius," Harry asked as the doctor lowered the privacy ward and turned to Lord Black, "how did they know I'd be here? How did you know they'd know I'd be here?"

Though no joke was intended, Sirius chuckled at the way it came out. He shook his head, winced a bit as Zhou closed a superficial wound (he'd pushed the other healer onto more critical patients previously), and his eyes turned solid and serious. "Skeeter published that you still had magic and were testing for OWLS this week. She even posted some of the scores you've already received."

Harry's jaw set and his eyes turned stormy. "That utter cow." So many people had been wounded – killed – for her glory.

"We knew it would come out when they published scores. We just didn't expect. Well… water under the bridge. The toll was too high, but this chapter of the book is closed now."

Harry nodded.

"They're going to want the truth. Bones and Scrimgeour are going to want to give a press conference. You should tell your side."

Harry sighed and sounded the fifteen-year-old he was. "Oh, come on."

"No. The press has had a field day making up shite about you. It's time to stop that. You give the facts. Then you move on. Can you do it?"

Could he? He was still in shock, he knew. He kept picturing Remus going down. Moody, Ron, Bill Weasley… Molly Weasley's screams as her children fell down down down. So many. Were any of them going to die? Had Ron died, already, with cold words between them? Harry swallowed over the lump in his throat.

He heard his name being called and saw Hermione, flying toward him. She'd arrived by Winky express just seconds before.

"Harry! Oh my gosh. Remus made me stay at home. He wouldn't let me help. Oh Harry! Are you ok?"

He hugged her, burying his nose in her hair. "No. I'm not okay. But I will be."

"It looks bad here. It was bad? The wireless said Voldemort was here. But what happened?"

"Death eaters attacked as we were coming out of the testing center. Dumbledore brought the Order and a few extra aurors. It was chaos. So many people hurt. Remus is hurt, so bad!" His voice choked and she could hear the tears he was trying to swallow.

"He'll be okay," Sirius interjected, putting a hand on Hermione's shoulder. She saw a healer still working on Remus. She didn't know it was Dr. Zhou, who had helped Harry and Sirius so much.

"They're saying… they're saying you killed Voldemort."

"What? No!" Harry pulled back and tried to find some balance. "His own curse rebounded on him. Again. You'd think third time he'd give it up, right? But no. Anyway, he was still alive last I saw him."

"He's squibbed," Sirius confirmed. "At least, according to the healers. That's why they want to talk to you. Voldemort and a lot of his tribe are all magicless now."

"That's worse," Harry worried aloud. "They'll say I have a way to steal people's magic or some other utter tripe."

If he didn't get out there with the truth today, would they paint him as a rising dark lord in tomorrow's paper.

But he hated the press. He was conflicted.

"For what it is worth," Dumbledore interceded, "I think you've the perfect opportunity to set the record – as it were – straight. I will speak my opinions: some still believe they are of more value than the air I expel to form them."

~~ this is a scene change ~~

The atrium of the ministry was full of reporters: local, national, international, gossip, fashion… they all wanted to know what happened at the testing center that morning. The WWN had sketchy details broadcast that had done more to raise curiosity than to answer questions.

Rufus Scrimgeour, director of the DMLE, went to the podium. The reporters became silent, though the clicking of shutters and flashes still dotted the room. The large man spoke very softly, forcing the reporters to remain quiet to hear all of the details.

"Good evening. This morning, a special edition of the Daily Prophet was produced. In it, a headline declared that Harry Potter had somehow retained or regained his magic and was currently taking OWLS. This news was certainly shocking, and DMLE anticipated reaction in the streets. Head Auror Shacklebolt and I decided to put aurors on the ground in all the major magical areas. Before we had planned the operations, Albus Dumbledore alerted us to the potential for a death eater attack at the testing site itself.

"Along with several of Dumbledore's talented comrades, five of my trusted aurors – including Head Auror Shacklebolt - dispatched to the testing center. They warned the two aurors on sight of the potential for violence, and then the students began to exit the building.

"The death eaters acted on some prearranged signal. They engaged wards which blocked portkey and apparition for a large distance around the testing center. And then they attacked. The first volley was killing curses, but a technique developed by Dumbledore – utilizing physical objects to shield the curse – had great effect.

"The battle was engaged and valiant on the side of the defenders. There have been twenty-seven casualties reported. Some had minor wounds, some will be convalescing for a while, if they survive. There were eight that perished on the scene." The DMLE head was silent and glared at the reporters that dared ask the details about deaths. The names would be revealed after next of kin were informed; the curses used and suffering caused would never be fodder for gossip, not under Scrimgeour's watch.

"The tide of the battle turned completely when it was revealed that the Prophet article was true: Harry Potter stepped in. He had been casting shields - as several of the other defenders were doing – and reflecting curses back at the attackers. He saved several lives, according to corroborated witness statements.

"At some point, Voldemort moved to the front of his line and went after the boy who was defending the others. Potter's glamour fell, and revealed the Boy-Who-Lived. After a furious exchange, Voldemort cast the killing curse. According to witnesses, it rebounded, just as it is theorized it rebounded on him the night of his first fall. This time, the dark lord kept his body but has, according to healers, lost all of his magic." The revelation caused a cacophony of sound and questions, but Scrimgeour ignored them all. When quiet once again reigned, he began again.

"I am not taking questions at this time. I ask that you keep the families of the wounded and killed in your thoughts and prayers. I turn over the podium to Albus Dumbledore, who was at the scene of the battle."

The murmuring had started again through various parts of Scrimgeour's recounting, but he never raised his voice, forcing the reporters to stay quiet if they wanted to hear the information.

As Dumbledore made his way to the podium, several patroni were seen flying out of the room – presumably to inform editors and reporters who were waiting for information to print.

Dumbledore looked tired. It had been a long day. But as he looked over the crowd, he smiled slightly.

"Good evening. It is, for some part anyway, a good evening. I can confirm most of what Mr. Scrimgeour has stated. There was a battle today betwixt those who would subjugate us and those of us who would not be subjugated. It was a hard-fought battle; there were several tragic losses. But in the end, the dark did not triumph. Tom Riddle – known to you all as Voldemort – and his followers were told with no hesitation that we will not accept their thoughts, motivations, or authority. The people of Britain are a free people, and thanks to the sacrifices made by many both today and in the blood war, we remain a free people."

The fact that there were very few shivers of revulsion upon hearing the Dark Lord's name confirmed it for many. That taboo had been in place for over a decade and now it was gone. Voldemort must truly be vanquished this time! But how was it done?...

"I have heard many of you postulating and speculating and wondering. I commiserate with you. Until I read the Prophet this morning, I had no idea that young Mr. Potter might be magical still. I have had no contact with this remarkable young man since the autumn. My concern this morning, though, was not with Harry. My concern was with all of the other students and their families. They did not realize, you see, that death eaters read the Prophet, also." The look of shock and awareness on many of the reporters' faces confirmed that they, too, had not thought out how the confrontation was spurred.

"When the battle engaged, I did not recognize Mr. Potter amongst the defenders." A lie, he would have recognized Harry's glamour from the spring, but he had not seen the child. As soon as young Mr. Weasley had exited the building – and he had been among the first of the students to leave – battle had engaged, and Albus's attention had been completely engaged. "Glamour is permitted by the homeschool OWLS testing rules and was quite wise: his anonymity protected others around him as much as it protected him.

"I did not watch the battle between Tom and Harry closely: instead, I used the opportunity to stun and incapacitate as many attackers as I could. As their attention was drawn to their master and Mr. Potter, that task became much easier.

"I did, however, bear witness to the final denouement betwixt the two primary fighters. Tom executed a particularly strong killing curse. It sped toward Harry and then turned, rebounding, changed in color from green to silver, and encompassed Mr. Riddle. He fell, and with him the remaining attackers, and the wards they erected fell.

"Fresh aurors came on the scene and stunned and incarcerated Tom Riddle. Subsequent testing has revealed that Tom's own curse did render him a squib. The dark mark he branded into his followers became a network that worked to protect his magic: the rebounded curse also ate through the magic of every marked supporter.

"I can hear the questions and thoughts from here. What did Harry do? I tell you: he did nothing. The most sound postulate comes from a fight I witnessed in the Grindlewald war. A young man was attacked by an older one, and the killing curse rebounded, killing the older man. It ended up that the young man was head of household for the older man; that family's magic would not allow for the treachery of a usurper. Family magic does not seem to always act thusly, but we must allow that it can and has in the past. Add to that fact that this is the fifth time that Tom has tried to murder Mr. Potter, that both have mundane parents who may somehow relate, and we must admit that there is something more than just Harry's luck or skill – no matter how great either might be – at play."

The murmuring then buzzed through the crowd. Dumbledore wondered if he should reveal the prophecy and decided against it. There was nothing to be gained at this point. And if he revealed it without first consulting Mr. Potter, he would lose any ground he was trying to gain.

"For the rest of your answers, I believe you should listen to our final speaker. Mr. Harry Potter will give a brief statement concerning both his magical status and today's battle. Harry?"

Harry took off and stowed his invisibility cloak as the crowd realized just who Dumbledore had introduced. The murmuring became demanding, louder and louder, until finally people were shouting. Flashbulbs went off like bombs. Harry waited, calmly, for quiet. When it was obvious that he was not going to shout, either, the crowd quieted.

"You know I have no desire to be here. The only time I've spoken with a reporter, that reporter lied about everything said in the interview. Every other interview, every other 'fact' about my life has been made up out of whole cloth.

"Of course, I should have expected no better from Rita Skeeter," he skewered the reporter then, and she paled, knowing what was coming and unable to do a thing to protect herself, "an unregistered beetle animagus who used her form to 'dig the dirt' that she used to ruin lives. Like this morning, when she revealed where I would be to Voldemort." The murmuring grew a bit as aurors took Skeeter into custody. Flashbulbs went off again, and then died down, as they waited for more from the Boy Who Won.

"She endangered a bunch of kids and parents for her own reputation." He finished his thoughts about Rita and relegated her to the dustbin of the past.

"So, yeah, I don't want to be here. My experience with you guys is pretty terrible. You made up all this stuff about my childhood, when I was living with muggles who hated magic. You spent last summer calling me delusional and a liar.

"You all know I'm fifteen, right? At the time of your slander, I was fourteen? A fourteen-year-old orphan?"

Some of them began to visibly express some shame, and Harry figured that was the best he'd get. "Of course, it's not completely your fault. My healer – he's certified in both magical and muggle worlds – found that I'd been cursed with something he referred to as a ghost curse. The night my parents were murdered, death eater Severus Snape was there, as part of the attacking force. He was afraid to try to kill me, as he'd just watched his lord blow up trying to do the same. Instead, he cursed me so no one would see my needs. I'd spend over a decade being abused for his entertainment."

There was murmuring again, some remembering how Poppy Pomphrey had been pulled from Hogwarts, and Severus Snape pulled almost within the same day. What had happened?! Follow up! Follow Up!

"As for why I'm still magical," Harry continued in his quiet but solid voice, and the crowd hushed, "that also goes back to that awful Halloween. My healer has a theory that lines up quite well with a theory of Headmaster Dumbledore. Voldemort left some of his magic in me – a leech of a sort. It helped tether his spirit to this realm."

He drank some of the water from his bottle, not wanting to remember, but needing to get what happened clear.

"Last summer, I was out walking, trying to clear my head. When the dementors came, I tried to tell Dud – my cousin – to run. He wouldn't. But as that horrid thing swooped in, I lowered my chin. It kissed my forehead. It kissed Voldemort's leech. Apparently, that was enough to snap the guy's anchor on this plane. We don't know for sure, but we do have two pieces of evidence that support the theory.

"First, we had an artifact that had some of his magic in it. It died – for lack of a better term - the night I was kissed. Second, Voldemort's own familiar – a great serpent – went insane that night. She was instrumental in the deaths of Lords Robeson, Malfoy, Fulwark, Knight, and Parkinson. Whether they were present of their own volition is not a question for me. I can only tell you they died of snake bites given at the time I was attacked."

There was more muttering as reporters wrote follow-up questions for themselves and Harry took another sip of water.

"As to why I still have magic? I believe that the magic the dementor tore from me was enough to satisfy its command. Remember: it was commanded by Senior Undersecretary Umbridge to kiss me. I do want to thank the members of the press for keeping on the pressure after that happened and forcing our leaders to find the responsible parties. Sadly, the day I was kissed by a dementor was probably the best thing to happen to me since my parents were murdered.

"It freed me, you see. I've had almost a year of anonymity. No one staring at me, expecting me to produce wonderful feats of magic or behead puppies and kittens. I got to learn without anyone calling me a freak or a hero or anything. I got to just be a kid. I got true medical help for the first time in over a decade. I got a girlfriend," he grinned a little, thinking of Hermione.

"It would have been perfect, except Voldemort still wanted to kill me. So, he showed up today. I'm stronger and more knowledgeable that I was. My magic is much more reliable: not having a leech on it has helped a ton. But really, I didn't have a prayer against that monster.

"Dumbledore, upon reading the newspaper, put out the call for defenders. He knew it would be a prime death eater target. He was right, of course.

"The battle itself is kind of a fog to me. I watched my uncles go down. I watched Master Auror Alastor Moody go down. People more talented, smarter, and more magical than me fell in the onslaught. But he was there. What was my choice?

"I shielded where I could, and he figured out who I was. And he attacked. And that's where it got weird. Just like when I was a baby - and the dementors brought that memory back for me in clarity – his green light bounced back at him. This time it turned silver and took all his magics.

"Dumbledore thinks it's family magic. As my mother was not a muggleborn but instead a squib-born, it seemed possible. Inheritance testing has shown me that this much is true: Tom Marvolo Riddle and I shared a family. My dad, too, by the way. My dad came from the youngest son, Riddle from the middle son, and my mum was the first magical to come from the eldest son. When Riddle tried to kill me, he tried to kill the lord of his family. It would not surprise me if our family magics didn't like that." The questions and postulations were quite loud for a moment, and Harry took another sip of water.

"Of course, it's just theory. There is, again, no way to test it. Who'd want to? Do I have the family ring? Why don't I wear the Potter ring? I do wear the Potter heir ring, now that I know of it." He allowed the Potter heir ring to show then. "Remember: muggle raised. I didn't even know my parents' full names or what they looked like until Hagrid introduced me to the magical world. How would I know to look for a ring? Do I want to be an auror? Heavens no, I'm done with fighting, I hope. Will I return to Hogwarts?" Harry looked to Dumbledore and smiled a small, sad smile. "I don't know. Possibly? I'm fifteen. I just finished OWLS and that's just a few months after taking the equivalent tests in the muggle world. The only plan I have right now is to go on vacation with my uncles this summer. It will be nice to go out and not have to worry about wearing a glamour ring. Honestly, I don't understand why what I do is important. A bunch of bad guys tried to ruin all of our lives. Magic itself made them fail. I had little to do with it. Magic has given us another chance to be our best selves. That's what I'm going to try to do. I suggest you all do the same. Good evening." He nodded a small bow to the crowd then moved back behind the aurors and re-donned his invisibility cloak.

~~ this is a scene change ~~

Molly Weasley looked up from the almost-still form of her oldest child. His breathing was steadier now. He'd lose his leg but keep his life. She was so very grateful. It had been touch-and-go for a few hours, but the prognosis was good now. That French girl had been by his side almost constantly, after having fought the dark valiantly earlier.

Perhaps Fleur Delacour was actually good enough for Bill.

She listened to the recording of the press conference and looked over to her youngest son, the side of his head swathed in a curse-clearing bandage as he thought about what Dumbledore was saying. As he relived his own part in the terrible day.

Ron was marked now, as much as Harry had ever been. He'd probably saved Bill's life, but she wished he'd not seen what he'd seen or had to do what he did. She wanted her children to stay as innocent as they could for as long as they could.

She thought of Harry, so young, so innocent. So very hurt by her coldness in the summer. She couldn't tell him she had to distance him: he was as good as dead without magic. You Know Who would keep coming for the child and eventually kill him. She had to protect her own heart. She had to protect her children. The best way to do that would be to remove the squib to the muggle world and abandon him there. But no one would hear her argument. Instead, Black had thrown the order out of his house just to protect a squib who put them all at risk.

It was a miracle that Harry Potter had magic again. Truly, the child must have been born under a sign: attacked by the worst dark lord in a millennium as a babe, he survives. Born to a rich family and a richer godfather. Kissed by a dementor, he lived and, by his own account, thrived. He had talent, brains (at least according to the Prophet article she'd read thoroughly while watching over her hurt chicks), and looks, according to Ginny.

How did he get back his magic? Did he ever really lose it? He must have had it for most of the year. It would be why that Granger chit stuck with him. Muggleborn were always looking for an angle to get a wizard.

It didn't cross her mind how she'd used potion-shenanigans to snare her own husband, or how she'd placed a loyalty hex on Harry, hoping to eventually build a relationship between the famous child and her own daughter.

Ginny would not have a chance with him now; not the way Molly and Ron had burned those bridges. Molly could admit that to herself. The twins might remain friends with Harry, but he'd never really been close with Ginny. And with how she'd tried to set Ron up with Hermione, Molly imagined that Harry would probably take offense.

Molly sighed. She listened as Harry explained his point of view of the whole thing. It was alarming that Rita Skeeter had been an unregistered animagus and had certainly lied in print. Molly always followed Skeeter's columns. She had such a way with words… Ghost curse? That was what had felled Severus? He had cursed a baby? What a wretched man. Family magic… what would that practically muggleborn boy know about family magic? Pish posh, Albus would figure out what happened. She'd wait for his final word.

"Mum?" Ron's voice pulled Molly from her speculation.

"Yes, Ronny?"

"How's Bill?" Ron's voice was quiet.

Molly smiled at her son reassuringly. "He'll be ok. We'll all be okay."

Ron looked at the window as the Wireless summed up the conference again and stated when they would replay it. Meanwhile talking heads would talk and blather and not really contribute anything of importance. But heavy thoughts were circling through Ron's mind. "Do you think Harry will forgive me? I was a right bag of dicks."

"Language. And of course, he'll forgive you. That's the kind of boy he is."

"He sat with me in that testing room all week. All week. He never said a word. I noticed him because he dressed posh. I thought, look, another pureblood snob too good for Hogwarts, and all the time it was Harry."

"He has nice clothes now because Black spends money on him."

"Like you spend money on us, yeah. Harry's aunt and uncle weren't poor, right?"

Molly tilted her head, "No, I recall Arthur saying that they had good income and just their one child."

"But they couldn't give Harry his own clothes. And you wanted to stop Sirius from getting Harry his own clothes? Why?"

"Well, money is always tight," Molly prevaricated.

"Not for Sirius," Ron interrupted. "Why did we treat him so bad, Mum? Why did I act like Malfoy? Harry was my best friend, and I acted like he never existed just because he didn't have magic."

Molly looked at her son. "So did I. And we were wrong."

Ron nodded then looked back out the window. Molly looked down at Bill in shame.

"I've been a right berk." Ron whispered.

"Oh, Ronny, no," Molly chastised gently.

Ron shook his head. "I treated Hermione like crap then expected her to work for me. I got mad when she didn't and blamed her for my own failure. I blamed Harry for getting kissed and not being the buffer between me and Hermione. I blamed… blamed… blamed."

Molly stood and went to sit next to Ron. "And then you buckled down, and worked, and studied. You said yesterday that you thought exams were going well. I can tell you, from the way you defended Bill, that you should have gotten at least an EE on your defense OWL."

Ron swallowed, his eyes moist with tears, "They were my best mates. And I threw it away because I was jealous. I was jealous that Harry got so much attention even when he didn't deserve it because he didn't have magic. He got kissed by a fucking dementor, and all I could think about was the fact that I wouldn't get his firebolt."

"And now we've both seen what our own pride can do. We both have some growing to do, yes?" Ron nodded as his mother rubbed his hand. "I think it will start with both of us apologizing. We'll apologize to Harry,"

"And Hermione," Ron added, looking at his mum.

Molly swallowed and nodded, acknowledging that her howler might not have been appropriate. "Yes, and to Hermione. And we'll move on, trying to be better."

Ron nodded hard.

He might never be friends with Harry or Hermione again. But he would learn, and he would be better.

It was the second chance that Harry gave him, and he would be grateful for it.

~~ this is the epilogue ~~

Harry sat in the quidditch stands, cheering on the lions. Now, with distance, he could fondly look back on his time at Hogwarts. His final two years at the school, with the normal classes mixed in, had been academically challenging. He'd been quidditch captain and head boy in seventh year, despite never being prefect.

No one whispered "special treatment" that he could tell.

At first people whispered and pointed and eyes followed him everywhere. It was like first year repeated, but this time he didn't cower and run away. A few months into sixth year, he was just one of the upper years. He was titled, and he had stood against a dark lord, but he who was treated mostly as a normal student. When he obviously had made a truce with Draco Malfoy and a few of the other leaders in the Slytherin nest, made friends with a few of the claws and badgers, and stayed friendly with most of Gryffindor, his mystique vanished.

Harry Potter, NEWT student, was as normal as a Lord could be. He was warm, friendly if not familiar, and respectful. The schoolyard fights of the past seemed to fall away as the real fight at the home-school OWL exams had put juvenile pettiness into perspective.

Dumbledore ran his school contentedly: putting new classes into place and reviving older ones, hiring instructors based on their quality and not their potential use in a future conflict, and ensuring the safety of staff and students with the rejuvenated wards of the castle.

Sirius and Dumbledore had been correct: attending Hogwarts for his NEWTS years had really helped Harry meld back into magical society, though he and Hermione would always have parts of their lives in both worlds.

Now, Harry sat with his godfather, watching the battle in the air, searching for the snitch out of long-formed habit. Hermione sat on his other side with the rest of their brood on the benches with their friends. Heir Potter and Heir Black were in their final game of their final Hogwarts season. Headmaster Dumbledore, watching his last match as a headmaster, smiled at the family from the faculty area. It had been quite a century, but he finally felt that he had done his work, atoned as he could for his prior mistakes, and he was ready for rest. He smiled as he noted that Lady Potter chatted amicably with Mrs. Lavender Smythe and Lady Daphne Longbottom as their children thrashed each other on the pitch in front of a full stadium.

All was well.