DISCLAIMER: See
A/N:
I had to rewrite so much of this, but all for the better…
Also,
the Latin quote below is supposed to mean that Harry returns to having
a normal
life, which in some situations, can be considered like a “banquet.”
CHAPTER
49: THE SECOND WAR ENDS
Refer
in convivia
gressum. Return to the
banquet. –Silius,
Punica (11.353)
As
soon as the remaining Death Eaters fled from the mountaintop and were
out of
sight, Harry collapsed. Ginny rushed
over and helped him up.
“Harry,”
she said, “C’mon, don’t collapse now… you
just-”
“Killed
Voldemort, I know,” Harry said wearily. “That just happened to take up a lot of
energy. I need to lie down or something;
I promise I’ll be fine, Gin, don’t worry.”
At
this point, Harry remembered Riddle’s body.
It still lay there, completely lifeless.
Harry never thought he’d feel sorry for the Dark wizard that
frequently
ruined his life, but now it just seemed so… pitiful.
Ginny
picked up on this too and said, “Let’s just leave it for someone else
to deal
with it.” Harry nodded in agreement with
her.
“C’mon,
Hogwarts is right down there…” she pointed to the castle, where Harry
could see
“No,
I’ll be mobbed; I need to get elsewhere…” Harry gasped, starting to
lose
consciousness.
Ardeavis
appeared in a flash. Turning to Ginny,
Harry grinned weakly and said, “If anyone asks, Gin, I’ll be at Snape Manor.”
Ginny
nodded and kissed him on the lips. As
they separated, Ardeavis flew in, and with
a trill,
he took Harry in a burst of flames.
Ginny
then hiked back up the side of the mountain to retrieve her SkyFox. Once up and
working again, the magical
vehicle returned to Hogwarts.
~*~*~*~
It
was about ten to midnight when Ardeavis
and Harry
returned to Snape Manor.
The reason that Harry wanted to return here was
because if any of his friends wanted to come and talk to him, they
could (with Snape’s permission, of course). After all, the love Harry had for his friends
was what protected him from the Killing Curse a second time, so
obviously part
of him still loved them enough to at least try to forgive them.
As
though in a dream, Ardeavis sailed through
the window
to Harry’s room and gently laid him down on the magnificent four poster
bed. Harry had barely removed his
glasses when he immediately fell asleep from exhaustion.
While singing softly, the phoenix pulled the
covers over the teenager, and then flew back out to return to
~*~*~*~
June 21, 1998: Harry Potter kills Voldemort,
and the
Second War ends.
That
one phrase, however it might be altered in the future, would live on
through wizarding history for as long as
anyone could
remember. All the hatred that had lasted
so long after Harry’s unjust arrest had been forgotten immediately as
people
praised him.
All
the people hiding inside Hogwarts had seen, via security systems tied
through
the wards, exactly how Harry Potter killed the Dark wizard whose name
was so
feared and loathed. As soon as word
spread around, everyone was called out of the special shelters set up
for
announcements from Dumbledore. The
elderly wizard had just returned from inspecting Voldemort’s
pitiful remains, and had concluded that Voldemort
was
indeed dead this time; a lone fire was now on the mountain top, where Voldemort’s remains and his wand were being
burned into
oblivion.
“Witches
and Wizards, students and staff, Aurors
and civilians, humans and other species,” Dumbledore
announced grandly, “The Second War has been won! Voldemort is dead,
and I know for a fact that he really is dead this time, and not just in
hiding
again. From what I can tell, there’s no
way he could have survived that one.
And, of course, the one who killed him was Harry Potter!”
If
there had been any animals left in the
Dumbledore’s
face lost its cheerful appearance and then hardened as he continued,
“From what
I can tell, at least 40 Aurors and
Ministry workers
died in the assault. We also lost about
14 goblins, 16 centaurs, 15 merfolk and 12
acromantulas in the attack.
No students or staff were killed,
although the students
with injuries will be healed within a week or two, which I promise
won’t cut
into your summer vacation too much.”
After some brief chuckling, Dumbledore said, “Please join me in
a moment
of silence for those who gave their lives for our sake.”
After
a moment of silence in which most people closed their eyes, praying and
thinking, Dumbledore said, “I believe we also have several other heroes
to
praise. It seems that all members of the
Weasley family have helped us immeasurably,
between
their efforts in the battle and caring for injured allies.”
There
was more cheering as Dumbledore continued, “We also have praise due to
Professor Severus Snape
and
Mr. Draco Malfoy
for their
efforts in spying and sabotage.”
“Don’t
forget monster-slaying,” said a voice
from the far corner of the room.
Everyone turned to see Snape
walking, tired
but triumphant.
“What
exactly did you kill, Severus?” Dumbledore
asked, his
quiet voice somehow heard across the room.
“Bellatrix Lestrange,”
Snape said, holding up her severed
serpentine head by her
hideous hair, looking like some parody of Perseus
and
Medusa. Fortunately for the sickened
people in the Great Hall, they wouldn’t be petrified.
Snape elaborated,
“After the fight at the Burrow, where Neville Longbottom
destroyed her wand and Harry Potter burned her alive, she was burned
beyond
recognition. The Dark Lord healed her,
and then made her a twisted experiment for the monsters that were
fought on
these grounds. If anyone wants to see
how big she was, the rest of her body is lying in the dungeons where
she was
killed.”
No
one could say anything to that, except for the Aurors,
who made their way through the crowd to accept the severed head from Snape and to retrieve the rest of her from the
dungeons.
After
that, Dumbledore continued, “As you all know, Leavetaking
Day is two days from now, on June 23.
However, the departure of the Hogwarts express will be postponed
so we
can award the Order of Merlin, First Class, to Mr. Potter.”
There
was general murmuring as Dumbledore finished, “Now, under normal
circumstances,
I would recommend you all go to bed, but I doubt anyone could sleep
tonight
after this final battle.” As everyone
laughed, the Weasleys tried rounding up
the rest of
the Gryffindors so they could discuss one
unresolved
matter: How to apologize to Harry Potter.
~*~*~*~
It
took several minutes, but the Weasleys
were able to
round up the other Gryffindors. As everyone quieted down, Ron said, “I’m not
one for making speeches, but I still have something important to talk
about:
How we need to thank Harry for everything he’s done for us. So, what should we do?”
His
mother immediately jumped in. “I know-
we could invite him to the Burrow for the summer. I’m
sure he’ll like that.”
“I’m
sure that would cheer him up, but the rest of us Gryffindors
need to figure out what to do, especially since some of us want to
apologize to
him,” Katie pointed out, guilt practically burning in her eyes; she
still felt
that way because of how Judy Arnold used and manipulated her.
“I
dunno; I suppose I could draw another
banner or
something for him,” Dean said. “We could
also set up a big party for him here in
“We’ll
supply the refreshments,” Fred immediately responded.
“Non-pranking, of course,” George then added to
reassure
everyone.
“Why
wait until after the ceremony?” Hermione asked.
“I’m sure at least some of us
could see him tomorrow and talk to him; wouldn’t he appreciate that?”
Ron
looked at her. “Herm, he just blew up
You-Know-Who! Not to mention all that other stuff he pulled off
tonight! He
should be exhausted…”
This
seemed to be a common sentiment of everyone else. “Ron
has a point,” Percy agreed, also
sincerely wishing for
Harry’s safety for the first time in what seemed like
eons. “We should definitely let him rest.”
“So
what does everyone think?” Mr. Weasley
asked
Gryffindor House at large. “Should we
wait until after the ceremony to talk to him and surprise him with
staying at
the Burrow for the summer?”
Everyone
nodded in agreement.
“Well,
I guess that’s settled,” Mr. Weasley said,
“Not like
I can control or have authority over that or anything.”
“Arthur?”
came a voice from the portrait hole. It was Mr. Diggory,
flanked by a few Aurors.
“Speaking of control and authority, I wasn’t
thinking about staying as Minister much longer.
I want to be around long enough to award Mr. Potter the Order of
Merlin,
First Class, so I can apologize to him myself.
I owe him that much. After that,
I think you should get the job back as Minister.”
Mr.
Weasley blinked in surprise.
“Why?”
“I
only agreed to be Minister so you could focus more on your family,
namely your
children, which you still have… unlike me.” There was a lump in Mr. Diggory’s
throat now, and he looked a little teary-eyed; everyone knew he was
thinking
about Cedric. “Face it, Arthur, you’re much better than me.
I agreed to the terms you proposed after your
two oldest sons got tortured. That’s
solved now.”
Mr.
Weasley looked unsure.
“What does the rest of the Ministry think?”
“They would like that, actually.”
Mr.
Weasley shrugged.
“I guess it’s settled. We can
settle everything in the morning, right?”
Mr.
Diggory nodded.
“Of course.”
After
Mr. Diggory left the cheering
“Thanks,
Albus. I also
want to give Mr. Potter the official apology from the Ministry and
such.”
“Of course. We should wait
until tomorrow evening to do
it. Harry needs his rest.”
~*~*~*~
Harry
abruptly woke the next morning. He had
just relived his entire confrontation with Voldemort
in his dreams, and it still nagged at him for reasons he couldn’t quite
understand yet.
The
morning passed as he lay on his bed, completely wiped.
He couldn’t even think too much at the
moment. All he could think about was how
he’d finally fulfilled the prophecy, killed Voldemort,
and now was free to do what he wanted with his life.
He should have been happy that he’d won.
He
could hardly be happy. He had suffered a
lot, and hundreds of people (regardless of race, breed or species) were
now
dead. Nothing ever good came out of war.
Yet
there was still something else that was nagging Harry, and after he
slowly ate
breakfast (served by Dormiel, skipping as
he went
from the happiness of Voldemort’s defeat),
and he
eventually realized what it was after finishing his meal.
No
one was coming to see him.
That
bugged Harry. He’d purposely told Ginny so
she’d tell everyone else. Harry knew
she’d tell everyone. So why the hell
wasn’t anyone coming? He would have
liked to see someone; after all, his love for everyone else was what
saved him
from death when he was hit with the Killing Curse last night.
In
the end, Harry supposed they were just trying to get themselves
together after
the final battle. After all, it was only
the morning of the day afterwards.
If
he got lucky, they’d come later.
~*~*~*~
Every
last witch and wizard in
The
Ministry had sent official pamphlets to all wizarding
families, as well as future events like the award ceremony for their
teenage
hero and the trials of remaining Death Eaters.
The whole time, owls were flying and fireworks were exploding.
However,
one family in Little Whinging didn’t need wizarding pamphlets to know of Voldemort’s
demise: The Dursleys.
None
of them noticed a gray owl fly past their window.
As
‘Something
about this,’ he thought slowly, ‘feels alarmingly
familiar…’
He
shrugged that off as he went up to his office to get down to work. He had quite a few important business deals
to cement, which he was able to get done by having his back turned to
the
office window; that way, he never saw the hordes of owls distracting
all the
stunned people below.
Just
then, he received a call from his wife at home.
“
“Yes,
Petunia, what’s wrong?”
“Er, I don’t know what you’ve been doing lately,
Mr.
Dursley felt an arctic chill run down his
spine. Now
he remembered; this was like when that stupid Dark wizard was killed
the first
time. And if that blasted nephew of his
was involved…
He
turned around to look out the window and take his mind off things, but
that
didn’t help whatsoever. He saw a swarm
of owls, each bird flying in different directions and all of them
looking
ecstatic, if that was even possible.
Just
then, one bird flew smack into the window with a thud, bearing some wizarding newspaper with a moving picture. The headline shouted “DARK LORD DEAD! HARRY POTTER TRIUMPHANT!”
The
phone receiver fell from Mr. Dursley’s
hand and
clattered to the floor.
Unable
to take it anymore, Vernon Dursley
fainted, and the
whole building shook under his weight.
A
few minutes later, worried workers dashed in and tried to help up their
boss
(which in itself was certainly no easy feat).
“You
know,” a man in his fifties said, “He did the same thing about 16 years
ago. It was early November, and with owls
and
stuff like this…” This man was actually
lucky enough to still be a worker for the company; Mr. Dursley
had fired so many people in the past, almost no one lasted more than a
decade
or so, let alone half that time.
“You
mean he’s afraid of owls?” a younger
woman asked
incredulously.
Another
man laughed quietly and shook his head.
“A big money-making boss like him afraid of nocturnal birds that
almost
no one ever sees in real life… I guess you get some very strange people
every
now and then, huh?” he said, pointing to the unconscious Mr. Dursley, who would have deeply hated that
comment if awake.
(1)
~*~*~*~
Throughout
the entire day, the Gryffindors eagerly
set up their
tower to welcome Harry back. They put up
all kinds of decorations and collected all kinds of refreshments. Dean Thomas, who had made sketches before of
Harry’s different accomplishments, had put up banners of him doing
things like
fighting Voldemort in the graveyard or
running Gryffindor’s sword through the
basilisk’s head. Perhaps to channel his
excitement, Colin Creevey polished and
checked his camera countless times.
Outside
on the grounds, bodies were being collected and cleaned up, as well as
weapons
and evidence. The monsters’ bodies were
being destroyed, and Voldemort’s flying
craft was
being cleaned up; several hours after the clean-up of that began, they
found
Back
at the Burrow, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley chose
one of the
new rooms added on to the house and eagerly set it up for Harry. Harry hadn’t stayed at the Burrow since
before the Second War (and the motorbike accident didn’t count, at
least not in
their opinion). They were sure that he’d
be delighted.
A
place on the Quidditch pitch was being set
up so
Harry could be awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class.
The Ministry workers setting up the podium and
such were proud to do their job.
It
was only when Dumbledore could finally get away from all the clean-up
efforts
did Harry get any visitors.
~*~*~*~
Harry
woke up yet again, in his latest cycle of weaving in and out of sleep. He just felt a little… off
ever since defeating Voldemort. He was also hungry, too, since he had
practically slept the whole day away.
Just
then, there was a knock at the door.
“Who is it?” he called weakly.
“Your
lovable old bat of a Headmaster,” came the
voice from
the other side of the door in a slightly joking tone.
Harry
instantly grinned a little. After
getting up and trying to get the worst of the wrinkles out of his
clothes, he
said, “You can come in, Headmaster.”
Dumbledore
walked in, with something akin to parental concern on his face. “I know this might sound like an absurd thing
to ask, especially after defeating the most powerful Dark wizard in
recorded
history, but are you all right?”
Harry
had to agree, that was an absurd
thing to say under such circumstances.
“All things considered, I suppose I am. Exhausted
and
hungry, yes, but otherwise alright.”
“Why
don’t we fix the hunger part?” Dumbledore asked with the twinkle in his
eye. As if on cue, Dormiel
and Vertumno came in, carrying lunch with
them.
What
ensued during their makeshift lunch was actually a very profound
discussion
between the two of them.
“What
should I do now?” Harry pondered aloud.
“All my life it’s just been focusing on keeping Voldemort
from returning to power, and when that didn’t work, it was trying to
stop him
as quickly and effectively as possible.
I never thought I’d say this, but I’m suffering from Voldemort
withdrawl or something like that.”
A
strange expression appeared on Dumbledore’s face, but it quickly
disappeared
before Harry could notice it.
“So,
what will you do, Professor?”
“Well,
I suppose I should enjoy the fact that Voldemort
is
gone for good, especially this
time. I was thinking about staying as
Headmaster
for another, just to make sure at least one year can pass at Hogwarts
without
something going wrong, namely Dark wizards or other Dark forces.”
Harry
could sense something like grief in his voice.
“Something wrong, sir…?”
“I
could never hate Riddle for what he became,” Dumbledore sighed, awash
with
guilt. Light dawned on Harry as
Dumbledore explained. “Pity, yes, but not hate. A lot of
his actions were his own fault, but I played
such a big hand in that, too. I said
last year how indifference and neglect often do much more damage than
outright
dislike… he was just some orphan boy in Slytherin
whom I ignored and could have helped. If I had intervened, all those
lives
could have been saved in these past couple of decades, and Riddle could
have
even been a benevolent, brilliant man and contributor to society, as
strange as
that may sound. And even more, your
family wouldn’t have be affected either…”
There
was an uneasy silence before Dumbledore collected himself and
continued, “When
you first walked through the doors of Hogwarts, I saw a boy who had
grown up to
similar conditions like one fifty years before him… it almost looked
like a second chance for me…”
And
suddenly, it all came clear to Harry.
“My
philosophy, Harry,” Dumbledore concluded, “contrary to what I’m sure a
lot of
people may think, is that second chances are not so much out of mercy, but out of redemption.”
That
was all Harry needed to understand.
“I
understand,” he said simply.
Suddenly,
Dumbledore put his arm around Harry, which the younger wizard accepted. “I couldn’t be more proud of you, Harry,” he
said quietly.
A
smile that made Harry look his age appeared.
“Thanks,” he said.
“By
the way,” Dumbledore added, “Your friends and Housemates have been
preparing a
reception for you. I daresay you might
want to join them shortly.”
Getting
the hint, Harry finished his lunch, got up, bade his professor
farewell, and
left.
“Have
some fun, my valiant Gryffindor,” Dumbledore said, unable to suppress
his
friendly smile or shining eyes.
~*~*~*~
Outside,
Harry ran into Snape, who commented on his
running
away and disappearing act before congratulating him on killing Voldemort and his forces, Death Eater or
otherwise. As Harry continued his way to
Hogwarts, he
wondered if that was what it must be like to have a parent.
Gryffindor
was in an ecstatic uproar when Harry returned, as was most of the
school. Harry was concerned about what
would happen,
except there some small advantages. First
of all, he wasn’t the only student being praised, so not all the
attention was
focused on him. His friends fought his
way through the throngs of other students, congratulating him and
embracing
him. Even the professors gave
celebratory words, with McGonagall looking more lax than usual.
The
party in the Gryffindor common room was festive, especially with dolls
of Voldemort and his Death Eaters being
hung and burnt. Since Harry had gotten
enough rest earlier in
the day, he had enough energy to be up practically the whole night.
That
night, much to everyone’s surprise, Gryffindor and Slytherin
had tied for the position of the House Cup, with Hufflepuff
and Ravenclaw trailing right behind them. With a grin, Dumbledore made it so the lion
and the snake were together, almost like friends, while the
red-and-gold and
green-and-silver patterns clashed all over the hall.
Across the hall, Harry and Draco
both smirked as they made eye contact with each
other; it was almost fitting, in a way, since their Houses’ Founders
were
indeed friends, or at least for the most part.
The
next day, the Quidditch stadium and beyond
was packed
as, one by one, Harry’s friends (plus Snape)
were
awarded Orders of Merlin for their work.
Finally, Minister Diggory awarded
him the
Order of Merlin, First Class. As they made eye contact, Mr. Diggory
could tell he was forgiven (later, Harry would take the twelve thousand
Galleons he received as remuneration for Azkaban and give it to St. Mungo’s).
The
train ride back was hectic, but Harry was glad to be with his friends
nonetheless. That night at the Burrow (Snape allowed him to stay with them for a week), they all dined into what the entire family
claimed was the
best food Mrs. Weasley ever cooked.
Later
that night, in his own room, Harry remembered something.
Concentrating hard, he focused in. A
moment later, he had it…
~*~*~*~
Back
at Hogwarts, Dumbledore was looking out the window, observing the
peaceful
nocturnal Hogwarts grounds while sipping some of his favorite hot
chocolate. Suddenly, even from where he
was, he could
see what was happening.
Gryffindor’s
sword, lying there ever since the final duel between Harry and Voldemort, started to vibrate and hover off the
ground. Rising more, it vibrated to the
point of a hum and shot off into the distance and out of the
Headmaster’s
sight.
Dumbledore
almost bade it farewell, finding some sort of peace at last to the
question he
first asked nearly a year before: the identity of the Heir of
Gryffindor.
And
his opinion, no one was more qualified to wield it than Harry Potter
himself.
(End of
Chapter 49.)
A/N:
Sorry, one chapter left to go, then I’ll be
done!
(1) All together now… LOL!