Disclaimer: I own nothing and am making no profit.

Acknowledgment: Rpeh on the beta work

Epilogue

Dumbledore was dead. To Hermione Granger that sentence rang false. Yet it was the truth. She'd hoped for an easier transition into her new position as the youngest head of the Department of Magical Education in nearly two centuries. But instead, she'd spent the month leading up to her twenty-seventh birthday wondering just how she could fix Hogwarts.

Fix probably wasn't the right word. The school wasn't broken. It was just in a transitional period. And one that was overdue. Deep down she was hoping she could convince McGonagall to stay on in some capacity, despite knowing full well the head of Gryffindor had been planning her retirement for years.

While that was a possible solution, Hermione knew it was nothing more than a temporary one. Temporary solutions were not typically good solutions. No, she needed to come up with something better than that. And the onus was now entirely on her to do so.

She frowned to herself as she paced around her London apartment. It wasn't much, just a few streets over from Diagon Alley. It was enough for her though. She'd been saving for years, looking into buying a house. She'd mostly just picked a magical apartment close to the ministry and the alley so she could walk if she wanted to. She could add rooms if necessary, and often changed the layout to something different whenever a new piece of real estate caught her attention. But thinking about houses wasn't really getting anything done.

Neither was pacing, but that didn't stop her. She was wearing a short black dress and had spent far too long straightening her hair that evening. All in preparation for a date. A date that she'd had to leave ten minutes into because Dumbledore died. That probably wouldn't have reflected too positively on her, but hopefully the dress would have earned her at least an attempt at a second date.

Then again, if it didn't, after a major work catastrophe, then the boy probably wasn't worth it. Of course, none of them had been worth it. At least none of them since the she'd taken to Japan before joining the department five years ago.

As if on cue, Hedwig hooted at her as she paced. Hermione frowned and stared at the owl. She was looking old on her perch. She was glaring down at the fluffy ball of ginger and grey cats sleeping on the table.

"Sorry girl," Hermione said. Hedwig closed one eye but let the other one linger on Hermione for a moment. The owl had lived with her, mostly, for the last decade now. Hermine had sent her off with a few letters for Harry. The first time she'd been worried she'd killed the bird. It took almost six months for the owl to come back. But she had returned with a letter from Harry eventually.

And the routine continued. Hermione wondered where the owl had gone. But the replies gave no clue to Harry's actual location.

No, that was much harder to discern. There were rumors of him everywhere. At first there was no rhyme nor reason to them. And some of them, especially the ones that insisted he was alone, were very easy to dismiss. But if someone looked closely enough at it all, and knew anything about Harry, it was easy to pick out events here or there that had his footprint on them.

An unexplained explosion in a New York harbor after Harry Potter was believed to be in New York? No, that wasn't very Harry. That couldn't have been more than a coincidence.

The lunar lander vanishing from the Smithsonian? No. That wouldn't have been Harry either. Especially because there was never any trace of him anywhere near the museum. And surely the entire thing had just been some muggle hoax as the lander returned, completely unscathed, just a few days later.

No, those things were clearly not anything Harry would have been part of. But there were also things that were more difficult to tell. There was certainly traces of him in the incidents in Milwaukee with the orphans. That was considerably harder to place. Because while it was certainly an odd situation. It didn't seem to be an overtly magical one. No, it just made more sense if one assumed magic. But one cannot always assume magic.

And then there was the incident in Montana. While most wrote that off as a bunch of drunk muggle teenagers believing in stories of extra-terrestrials coming down to Earth, there seemed to be more of magic than of other worlds in it.

But what would Harry have been doing flying around Montana? Again, it was another area where there weren't really any solid rumors of his location. And it was amazing how hard it seemed to be for anyone to discover just where he was at any given time. It didn't help that he often seemed to be in six or seven places at once.

But there were other ones that were most assuredly Harry. And yet, they were the ones that most people seemed to think the least likely.

The stories of a pack of unidentifiable beasts running amuck in Mitsue Alberta? That seemed standard enough. But then, two men showing up for less than a day and ending that before disappearing into the unknown once more? No, everyone dismissed that story out of hand. Everyone but Hermione, at least.

The entire thing reeked of hoax though. A few unexplained deaths and then no sign of the creatures ever again? After two mysterious men show up? The villagers wouldn't talk to the Canadian ministry about who they were. The only thing they'd say for sure was that the strangers had saved them.

And then the drug case in Vancouver. The Canadians still weren't letting anyone know exactly what happened there, or letting anyone outside of their own government see just what the wizards had been giving the muggles. Hermione had heard terrifying reports. But it was all hearsay and she couldn't be sure if it was true or exaggeration.

But it had been utter chaos. The Americans and Mexicans had each sent a handful of Aurors to help with the investigations for fear of the drug spreading. And the British were close to doing the same thing. But then it had suddenly, and messily, ended.

A score of bodies, well, pieces of bodies, were found in a warehouse in the harbor district, along with a large quantity of the drug in question, and quite a few bewitched muggles. The muggles, from what Hermione understood, were at least physically intact. Although there were some questions to be asked about their mental states. Still, that seemed to be more due to whatever had happened to them before the incident.

It had been like pulling teeth to get any information out of it. And she'd only really done so by flirting and promising one date, with a Canadian Auror who was in England as part of an exchange program. The man hadn't been present in Vancouver at the time, but told her what he'd heard from hearsay.

The drug, he'd said, murdered people. It slowly eroded their insides until there was nothing left. They were using the residue for some other sort of ritual that no one had been able to determine the goal of as of yet. Or if they had, they weren't sharing.

She'd asked how they'd been stopped. But no one knew. At least that was what her date had claimed. The Canadian authorities had been tipped off to the warehouse. They'd stormed it and found the destruction inside.

Outside they'd been greeted by two men. One middle-aged and the other quite young. The young man had done all the talking and then they'd left before the authorities had been able to do anything about it.

Some in Canada wanted to hunt them down, as they'd obviously murdered quite a few people. Others argued that they had no idea who the two men were, or how to catch them. And that was when the rumors started. One of them looked like Harry Potter. But that was impossible. He'd been in Bihar just days before.

And that was the easiest one to trace. He was obviously in Bihar. And he had obviously been responsible for that. And the sightings were so close. Sure, it was physically possible for him to bounce around as much as the stories seemed to say.

But it would have been exhausting. And it just seemed so incredibly unlikely.

"Miss Granger?" A voice rang through her apartment. Hermione stopped pacing and turned toward the fire. Hedwig hooted her annoyance at the late call and her cats glared at the fireplace in unison. Sage curled back up into a ball but Crookshanks hopped off the table, stretching his old muscles as he started to move, before stalking toward her bedroom.

"Yes, Mister Weasley?" Hermione answered. She'd thought that, after leaving her date and rushing to the ministry for the meeting after Dumbledore's death that she'd have the rest of the night to try to collect her thoughts. Obviously Percy disagreed.

"I just finished with the minister," Percy said haughtily. Hermione made sure she wasn't looking directly at the fire when she rolled her eyes.

"And what did Minister Fudge have to say?" Hermione asked.

"Well as you know he is very concerned with the direction that Hogwarts will be taking. He is quite adamant that he be kept in the loop of all the applicants," Percy said.

"What did he say that he hadn't already said at the meeting an hour ago?" Hermione asked, hoping that it didn't come over snobby. She was rather sick of dealing with Fudge and his cohorts. But after being able to claim responsibility for vanquishing Voldemort once more, Cornelius Fudge had become almost as much of a legend as Dumbledore. Whether it was an earned status was certainly debatable. Although not a debate anyone seemed willing to have in public.

They'd said Harry had gotten her alone and killed her. That didn't sit right with Hermione. Harry wouldn't have done that right then. Everything about it seemed wrong. But he hadn't refuted it.

And because of it, for the last decade, what the minister wanted, the minister often got.

"Well the minister and I stayed rather late discussing the future of your department and the future of magical education in England," Percy continued.

"Thank you for inviting me," Hermione scoffed.

"Given your attire it seemed you had better places to be," Percy said.

"I told you I'd rushed over from a date," Hermione growled.

"Yes, yes," Percy said. "Not very devoted to your work if you ask me," Percy commented.

"It was nine o'clock on a Saturday!" Hermione said.

"It's a wonder you and Ronald didn't work out," Percy continued. "With your constantly wanting to be out and not at home."

"Did you floo me at one in the morning to insult me or is there a purpose to this call?" Hermione asked, her jaw clenched tightly. In her mind, her parents scolded her for grinding her teeth together. But, also in her mind, Harry was cursing Percy down a hallway once more.

"Insult you, Miss Granger?" Percy sounded affronted. "Why I would do no such thing."

"Enough," Hermione sighed. "What's the point of this?"

"Well as I said the minister and I had a great deal of discussion about how to proceed," Percy said.

"We proceed the way the bylaws of Hogwarts say we proceed," Hermione sighed. "A panel of myself, my undersecretary, and two select governors of the school interview all of the candidates and come up with a vote on who we deem best. From that point they have a confirmation hearing before the entire board and the ministry."

"Well yes, yes, we know all of that, obviously. Hopefully it can be done before the start of term," Percy said.

"We have three months," Hermione retorted. "And if it's not, Professor McGonagall said she would perform any interim duties that are required."

"The minister was hoping it wouldn't come to that," Percy said. "There seems to be no real reason to burden her with extra work in her final year."

"Ideally not," Hermione agreed. She had the benefit of knowing that while McGonagall had agreed to that, she'd expressly said she would prefer if it did not come to that. And Hermione had to admit that the transfiguration matron was probably right. She'd become a great deal slower in the last few years.

"And we'd be looking for a candidate with a great deal of administrative experience, as the position is mostly the day-to-day running of the institution. Some background in education is obviously preferred but not overly crucial to the position," Percy said.

"You've already said all of this earlier. And I disagree. I think teaching experience is crucial. While the position doesn't specifically require it, I can't imagine someone being effective if they've never been in a classroom before," Hermione argued.

"Certainly, never in a classroom would be unacceptable. But we think we've come up with a fantastic candidate to take over the school for an extended period of time," Percy said.

"Oh?" Hermione asked, her brows arching.

"Yes," Percy said. "I am going to do it."

"What?" Hermione laughed.

"The minister and I both agree that I would be a perfect candidate," Percy said.

"You?" Hermione laughed.

"That is unnecessarily condescending, Miss Granger. Must I remind you that the year I taught Defense the test scores were record highs."

"You taught defense for four months and had us read out of a textbook in class," Hermione scoffed.

"And, might I remind you, it is only by my reluctance to put forward charges that you and Ronald remained in school after attacking me," Percy said.

"I didn't attack you. But if you want to go that way I've got a couple of very interesting memories from that evening I'm sure the Prophet would love to see," Hermione said. The fireplace remained silent for a moment. She almost thought that Percy decided to leave her. But, deep down, she knew she was never that lucky.

"That does not seem totally necessary," Percy said.

"Then don't threaten me, Percy," Hermione scowled.

"Oh heavens! I would never do such a thing," he said as innocently as he could muster.

"Sure," he said.

"We're merely trying to provide an acceptable solution for all parties involved. Surely you don't want the Prophet inquiring as to whether or not you are old enough to make the decisions that will have consequences for the entire wizarding population of England," Percy said.

"I'm sure we can pencil you in for an interview this upcoming week," Hermione sighed. She had no issue figuring out just what they were trying to do. Fudge had always wanted control over Hogwarts. While Umbridge had blown up spectacularly in his face, the impressive Defense grades from that year had raised some eyebrows.

Annoyingly, they couldn't really contradict it without admitting to secret meetings and training sessions that could, ostensibly, be linked to the students attempting to challenge Fudge on behalf of Dumbledore. In the end, their little group probably helped Fudge maintain power in the ministry, as the results of his one year were certainly laudable on paper.

But Dumbledore had wrested control of the position back the next year. And Fudge seemed content to bask in the defeat of Lord Voldemort and continue solidifying his power.

"Excellent," Percy said. "I look forward to it, Miss Granger. I suspect there will not be a need to interview a great many candidates."

"We'll see," Hermione said quietly, feeling considerably less confident about that than Percy seemed to be.

"Excellent," Percy said. "I'm glad you understand just how important Minister Fudge believes this issue is. I'm sure we will all come up with an acceptable solution going forward."

"I'm sure," Hermione agreed as the fire flashed out of existence. She sighed and paced around the room once more. Hedwig hooted at her, hopped off of her perch and landed on the small cabinet that housed some glasses and her alcohol before hooting once more.

Hermione walked toward her and petted the owl gently. Hedwig just blinked her large eyes and hooted again. Hermione sighed.

"You're right," she said to the bird. She opened the cabinet and pulled out one glass and the closest bottle. She didn't even bother to look at what it was before she poured a mouthful into the glass and then drank it.

The amber liquid burned the whole way down. She made a face against it before pouring another and repeating the process. Five drinks later the thought of Percy Weasley was considerably less annoying to her.

By that point she knew there was no real use to thinking about what she was going to do any longer. Tomorrow she'd have to duck into work and attempt to come up with a solution. Her only real hope was that no one else decided to work on Sunday and that she'd have some quiet.

But she suspected Percy would spend the day contacting everyone he needed to in an attempt to secure his position. She frowned at the thought. When she'd taken the job Dumbledore had smiled his grandfatherly smile at her and said, jokingly, that now they were enemies.

She knew what he'd meant. Dumbledore thought that the government should not have control over the educational systems. And Hermione, in that position, represented the government. But she also agreed with him. She didn't want to be nearly as hands on as Fudge seemed to think she'd would be.

It wasn't her goal to control Hogwarts. It was her goal to protect it. And, deep down, she knew Percy Weasley had no interest in preserving the traditions of Hogwarts. But she also knew it would be next to impossible to convince anyone to go against Fudge's favorite. She couldn't even think of a single person who would even be okay with trying it.

Well, that wasn't true. There was one person who had no issue challenging governments, or anyone, even if for no other reason than they should be challenged. But she couldn't possibly imagine that he would be a good Headmaster. And she didn't even know how to broach the subject to him.

And given that he had a propensity to wait six months to respond to letters, she didn't even really know how to contact him readily enough for it to matter.

But being awake wasn't worth it at the moment. So she stumbled into her bedroom and kicked off her heels before collapsing face first onto her bed, deciding that sleep would help more than worrying at that point. And that she'd have plenty of time to worry in the morning anyway.

The office was empty when she walked in the next morning. None of her staff seemed to feel that the death of the Head of Hogwarts warranted working on a Sunday. Hermione didn't think they were wrong. Fudge and Percy were nowhere to be seen.

She spent the rest of the day running over staff positions in her head. The new head would be responsible for replacing Professors McGonagall and Sprout within the next couple of years. As well as repeatedly filling the ever-vacant Defense position. Along with that would be promoting a new head of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff.

Flitwick, thankfully, had indicated he wanted to teach for at least another decade. And the diminutive man showed no signs of slowing down as he did. So Charms and Ravenclaw were not things she needed to worry about.

Eventually, around lunchtime, she decided she wasn't gaining anything from being at the ministry and went home. She frowned to herself as she slid into her desk at home, knowing that she should at least continue to try to work despite the change in venue. Her grey cat, Sage, hopped up into her lap and started purring. She scratched it behind the ears before picking up a quill and tapping it against a sheet of parchment.

Her goal had been to write down names of who she would like to fill the position and then assess from their characteristics the qualities that she was looking for in the position. The first name was easy. She wrote 'Albus Dumbledore' down without question. Sure, he wasn't an actual candidate, but whomever took the job would have to strive to live up to his legacy.

After that, though, the list didn't grow. She tapped at it with the quill, the persistent noise annoying her cat until it hopped off of her lap. She kept working through the afternoon and evening with no real luck.

Eventually, before she resorted to more shots, she decided instead to go to bed.

The next week bought the funeral. She was required to give a short speech at Hogwarts during the ceremonies. And after she spent some time catching up with the remaining staff and weighing their concerns for the upcoming regime change.

None of them seemed overly excited. And they seemed even less so at the prospect of ministry officials becoming involved with the operation of the school.

But what bothered Hermione the most was that they all had a defeatist attitude about it. Like it was merely an inevitable thing that they were now having to deal with. Hermione didn't think that was an attitude she wanted in the school. But she was completely incapable of coming up with a better solution.

Eventually, out of desperation, she asked Horace Slughorn if he wanted the position. While the man had seemed genuinely flattered, he turned it down almost immediately. No, he'd said, he was quite content to live out the remainder of his life in quiet retirement in the countryside. But, if she ever needed his advice on anything, he was a mere owl away and always willing to chat over some crystalized pineapple.

Hermione decided that she never wished to have that chat and pushed the thought far, far from her mind.

The next week brought the interviews. They started out, for lack of a better term, utterly awful. By the end of the third day she was actually wondering if the whole thing had been staged purely to make her think Percy would be an acceptable candidate.

His interview seemed to drag and drag when it finally happened. While most took about two to three hours, Percy's was at four when they broke for lunch. And there was no sign of it ending any time soon.

She ate lunch at her desk in her office, mostly just to be away from everyone else for their short break. There was some type of commotion going on at the ministry that morning. But she hadn't really paid that close of attention to the happenings of the day. The hushed gossiping whispers irritated her more than anything. Why people were so concerned with who was seen where and with whom drove her mad.

Percy was looking incredibly smug when they came back from lunch. This time, Fudge joined him in the interview, along with other members of the Hogwarts board of Governors. Hermione expected that they were going to try to skip the confirmation hearing and simply appoint Percy that evening.

One of the other Governors was in the middle of a four-part question to him when she heard what sounded like a scream from upstairs. Given that they were directly below the department of Magical Games and Sports she suspected that there had simply been some quidditch upset.

The hollering above them continued for long enough that they momentarily paused. Fudge sent one of his underlings to investigate and scold the noisy department and they again resumed.

Almost as soon as Fudge tried to resume the interview process, a loud crack rang through the small chamber. Everyone inside winced away from the noise, a few even reached to rub their ears against the new ringing in their head.

Hermione recovered first. She looked around the room quickly and saw a young man standing in the corner, his back to her. Men stood between her and the intruder, blocking her view. She attempted to peer around them.

"Merlin that's irritating," the man cursed. He looked to his wrist, reaching to his watch. He pressed one of the buttons on the side of it and a moment later another loud crack rang through the room. The man hit the button on his watch once more.

"Apparating underground is annoyingly hard," the other new man said. This one looked older and larger than the first.

"I gathered that when I missed on the first attempt," the first man said. Hermione blinked at them.

"What are you doing here?!" Fudge screamed.

"Apparating anywhere except the atrium is strictly forbidden!" Percy yelled.

"Then put up better defenses," the larger man said. The feeling in the room immediately shifted. Hermione couldn't pin exactly what it was. But there seemed to be something almost oppressive coming from the two men. A few of the people blocking her vision stepped backward and away from the two intruders. But their spots were quickly filled by other bodies.

"That man," Fudge shrieked. "He's going to kill me!"

"Tempting," the man said.

"Get him!" Fudge yelled.

"Please try," he said.

"Enough," the smaller man said.

"Sorry sir," the larger one apologized.

"Why are you here?" Percy asked, seeming to sense that there was no immediate danger from these two men. Hermione was focused instead on just how they could have apparated straight into the meeting room.

"I had an appointment for an interview," the smaller man said.

"No you didn't," the larger responded.

"Right," the smaller one said. "I was making an appointment for an interview."

"That is unacceptable and not how these things are done," Percy said snottily.

"Oh, come on, Perce. I'm sure it can't possibly take six hours," the man said. Hermione finally managed to peer around the bodies and get a good look at him. He was taller than most of the men in the room and was dressed far more casually. He wore muggle designer tennis shoes, Hermione recognized the red stripe on the heel, as well as dark jeans and a T-shirt with a logo she didn't recognize on it. An ornate silver watch adorned his left wrist, matching one the larger man wore as well. He had dark messy hair and looked like he'd intentionally forgotten to shave for a day or two.

Silence fell immediately as everyone in the room stared at him. He simply smirked at them all, recognizing the realization that spread across their faces.

"So anyway," Harry Potter said. "Where do we begin?"

"That man is a Death Eater!" Fudge squealed, pointing at Avery. His bodyguards turned toward Avery, stepping toward him.

"Impossible," Harry said.

"He worked for You-Know-Who!" Fudge yelled.

"Couldn't have," Harry said. "You made a grand show of how every Death Eater had been rounded up and imprisoned. And then another grand show of all of the trials. You couldn't have possibly missed one. And if you had, just how many did you miss?"

"One could have slipped through!" Fudge yelled. "He will be executed like the rest!"

"Or Harry Potter will go to the Prophet and talk about how Fudge is using ex post facto Death Eater claims to eliminate potential political rivals," Harry said.

"They would never-" Fudge started.

"Believe Harry Potter?" Avery laughed. Fudge fell silent.

"So anyway," Harry said jovially. "I've got places to be so can we get on with the interview?"

"You do not have an appointment scheduled," Percy sneered. "This is not how the ministry does business."

"Well the afternoon was free. Has it really taken you two hours longer than anyone else? I mean I did always think you were a tad slow, Perce, but that seems excessive," Harry said.

"How dare you," Percy hissed.

"Quick to anger at the slightest taunt," Avery observed.

"Great trait for an educator," Harry said.

"Aurors, escort them out of the ministry," Percy ordered. Fudge nodded and the Aurors stepped toward Harry and Avery. Hermione frowned at the scene, wondering why her estranged best friend would pop in only to be arrested. But then Harry just turned his gaze to the Aurors and smiled. They froze.

"What are you doing?" Fudge asked.

"I can't move!" One of the Aurors yelled.

"Me neither!" The other shrieked.

"Let them go!" Fudge ordered.

"You sure give a lot of orders for a man with no power," Avery said.

"I am the Minister of Magic!" Fudge shouted. "And you will let them go!"

"I'm not holding them," Avery said.

"Mister Potter!" Fudge yelled.

"Gentlemen," Hermione said as sternly as she could muster. "This is quite unproductive. Mister Weasley, thank you for your time but I feel we have all of the information we need. We will contact you if we need anything further."

"I was hoping we could get everything squared away today," Fudge said.

"Well we obviously aren't going to," Hermione countered. "So, Mister Weasley, if you wouldn't mind. You are dismissed."

"I mind a great deal," Percy spat.

"Disobeys ministry requests," Avery noted.

"That's more a positive than a negative," Harry commented.

"True," Avery responded.

"I will not just be dismissed," Percy said.

"Percy," Fudge sighed. "I am sure this will not take very long. There is no way Mister Potter even remotely qualified. I will sit in on this. One more day will not make the slightest difference."

"Are you sure minister?" Percy asked.

"Yes," Fudge said. Percy nodded but stood without another word and left. Harry pulled out the chair across from Hermione and sat down. Avery stood behind him, his eyes occasionally checking the stationary Aurors.

"So," Hermione said quietly. She shuffled through the papers in front of her, organizing the notes she'd taken on Percy and finding new parchment. She hadn't planned for this interview. Her list of questions seemed to be in the wrong spot.

"So," Harry said. Her eyes flashed at him in annoyance. But he was smiling.

"You believe you are suited to be the Headmaster of Hogwarts?" Frederick Goldstein, one of the Governor's asked.

"Well the paper insists I'm Dumbledore's protege," Harry said. "Seems fitting that his protege takes over his post, don't you think?"

"No," Fudge said. "The last thing we need is more interference from Hogwarts. The school is part of the government, not its own entity."

"Perhaps," Harry said.

"Excuse me," Claire Greengrass, the other governor with a vote said as she rifled through some papers of her own. "But where have you even been? Aside from stopping the You-Know-Who at the ministry, the last real record of you is detention reports from when you assaulted and crippled Slytherin students, my daughter included. Magic still hasn't been able to fix Mister Malfoy's spine."

"A dozen Slytherin students and a ministry official entered a class room, cursed my friends and tried to curse me. They were, shall we say, not aware of what they were getting into," Harry said.

"That's the best excuse you can come up with for assaulting and injuring a dozen students?" Claire Greengrass continued.

"Yes. They're lucky I was rather mellow at the time. Or more of them would have been like Draco," Harry said.

"Goodness boy! And you want to run a school filled with children?" Fudge exclaimed.

"Two of them stripped and molested my best friend," Harry said. "Neither of them was reprimanded by their head of house despite three separate healers agreeing that something had happened to her and my own testimonial as to just whom was last seen towering over her. And both of them are currently employed by your ministry making a surprisingly large salary for what, as far as I can tell, is no actual work."

"You can't possibly know that," Fudge scoffed. Avery chuckled to himself and Harry simply smiled more. Hermione flushed a deep red and looked down at her papers. She noticed Claire Greengrass and Frederick Goldstein were both staring at her with curious expressions.

"I would just advise that Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe are kept a safe distance away from me," Harry said.

"A safe distance?" Goldstein said.

"Australia," Avery said.

"The moon," Harry countered.

"Can I ask, Mister Potter," Goldstein started. He paused for a moment as Harry turned to look at him. Hermione thought that, for a moment, he looked almost afraid to ask the questions. "You did not answer her question. Just where have you been?"

"Everywhere," Harry said.

"Can you be more precise?" Goldstein asked.

"I've been everywhere," Harry said. "I've seen the splendor of the world from the highest point of Mount Everest. I've seen the crushing darkness from the bottom of the Marina Trench. I've found the lost cities of the Mayans and learned from their elders. I've supped with the ice tribes of Siberia and I've met the shamans of central Africa."

"That's impossible," Fudge said.

"For you," Avery commented.

"I've seen more of the world, and more of the people in it, than any living soul possibly in the history of this rock," Harry said.

"Ahem," Avery intoned.

"Well, than almost every other living soul," Harry amended.

"Thank you," Avery said.

"We were inquiring more about your specific experience and qualifications. Your response does not answer our question," Claire Greengrass said.

"It doesn't," Harry admitted. "Because it's an impossible question to answer. To delve into the specifics would require far more time than we have available to us in this moment."

"Why do you think you're qualified?" Hermione asked. "As far as we know you have even less experience than Mister Weasley. And he has an appallingly small amount."

"I've spent a large portion of the last five years helping found and run a magical school in Nagasaki. I also taught multiple subjects in my time there. I would also fill in for whatever was needed," Harry said.

"There is no magical institution in Nagasaki," Hermione frowned. So he'd stayed in Nagasaki? She could still remember the oppressive feel of the air when she'd last seen him. It was similar to the slight aura emanating from the two of them now. "In fact. It's virtually impossible to cast any spells there. Surely you're fully aware of that."

"We would prefer if the British Ministry of Magic continued to believe that," Harry said. "But, as with most things, their information in this regard is a bit outdated."

"Do you have references?" Hermione asked.

"Aside from Avery?" Harry asked.

"Naturally," Hermione responded.

"The younger Healer Patel will vouch for the existence of the school and that I taught there," Harry said.

"And you think a few years of running some small school in Japan is enough experience to warrant running the premier institution in all of Europe?" Greengrass asked.

"No," Harry said. "But it's still more experience than the candidate your minister favors."

"Can I ask something more personal?" Hermione asked.

"I may choose to not answer it," Harry said.

"And you are not required to. But you have spent the last decade traveling around the world, seeming to be more of a myth than a real person. Why return to England now and take such a public position?" Hermione asked.

"Well my school is capable of functioning without me now. And I made promises to the locals that it would be a Japanese school. So once it became clear that it didn't need me, I figured it was time to leave. And I felt it was time to return home. At least for the time being," Harry said.

"You don't sound inclined to stay," Goldstein said.

"I'm not going to lie to you and say I wanted this job for all eternity and will spend the rest of my life doing it," Harry said.

"You don't even want it?" Fudge interjected.

"If I didn't want it. I wouldn't be here," Harry said. "It's a unique opportunity and one that I think I would excel at. I have classroom experience. I have school administrative experience. And I am one of the most respected wizards on the planet."

"You have quite the opinion of yourself," Greengrass said.

"An earned one I think," Harry said.

"We all know what Mister Potter has done," Hermione said.

"With respect, Miss Granger. But we don't," Goldstein said. "It's never been clear just what Harry did. It's never been clear exactly what happened in the ministry. And good God, I know you don't have any children but could you imagine sending your children to a castle with him?"

"Yes, people will react quite poorly to those rumors," Fudge said.

"Only if you make a big deal out of them," Harry said. "As is I would suspect the return of Harry Potter is a bigger story. Anyway, if you focus on the rumors I'd just flip them around on you."

"What?" Goldstein asked.

"Well I'd explain a few of them, with sources to corroborate what I said. And I'd let whomever wanted to run with it and say that my general annoyance at the Ministry for choosing to harp on such small things in my past has dissuaded me from returning to England. And suddenly people are more annoyed that you ran off Harry Potter. A Harry Potter who returned home to share the secrets he discovered in his travels. And it's you that's denying them that knowledge out of what…Fear for your own survival?" Harry said.

"That would never work. People trust the ministry," Fudge said. "My administration is highly thought of."

"Because Harry hasn't bothered talking," Avery said.

"Excuse me," Fudge said.

"I was there that night too, you know," Avery said. "As was Ms. Granger."

"I fail to see how that matters. Except given that the only people in the ministry that night were officials and criminals. And you are not a ministry official."

"I always wanted to be a criminal," Harry said.

"Well I mean, technically," Avery started.

"Oh yeah. I forgot," Harry said.

"What are you two on about," Fudge said.

"Nothing important. But if you'd like me to start talking about my last visits to the ministry a decade ago I can certainly start doing that," Harry said.

"I don't think that's necessary," Fudge said, turning rather pale as he spoke.

"Would be fun, though, wouldn't it? Great way to reminisce about old times. We could talk about the Auror you had try to curse me. Oh, or the ones that tried to kill Ron and Hermione," Harry said brightly.

"Excuse me, did I hear that correctly?" one of Fudge's bodyguards said. The man was still fighting against the bodybind. Harry blinked and suddenly both Aurors relaxed into more normal postures. Hermione looked up toward the man. She hadn't really paid any attention to the Aurors that always followed Fudge around. They were both young and seemed to be rather enraptured with Harry.

"Of course not. The boy is delusional," Fudge said. He flushed crimson as he spoke and seemed to almost immediately lose his cool.

"That argument worked better when I was fifteen," Harry said. "And if you call me boy again you will regret it."

"Can we perhaps stop this pissing contest and actually have an interview?" Hermione asked.

"Sure," Harry said.

"I see no reason for this to continue. I am leaving. You should know, Miss Granger, that I will never approve of this appointment," Fudge said. He stood and left the room rather quickly. Hermione watched him go. Both Aurors lingered, their eyes on Harry. But eventually they followed Fudge out of the room.

"So," Hermione said after Fudge left. She gazed between Goldstein and Greengrass wondering if they would manage to accomplish anything in the next few hours.

"If we are doing this seriously," Claire Greengrass said. "What classes have you taught at your school in Japan?"

"I started with Transfiguration. I dabbled in all of them but that was the first one I'd devoted a full year too. After that I focused mostly on the Dark Arts," Harry said.

"You mean Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Greengrass asked.

"No," Harry said. "While that was certainly a component of it. And the only practical portion of it, as it were. Our curriculum explored it from a more theoretical standpoint. We chose to be more transparent with just what the Dark Arts entailed rather than focus entirely on defensive spells."

"And you intend to bring that to Hogwarts?" Goldstein asked.

"I would like to," Harry said. "But I would first need to actually find a professor I trusted with the material that was going to last longer than a year. I think a consistent hand is crucial to proper learning. And then there's the whole fact that the ministry must approve the curriculum. While I think it's a considerably better way to learn about the subject than I had. I acknowledge that there are likely other factors that I haven't considered and that such changes wouldn't be something likely to occur quickly."

"So you'd be willing to get ministry approval?" Greengrass asked.

"It would depend," Harry said.

"On?"

"How willing the ministry is to cooperate as well. It's not a one-way street. If I feel like the ministry is working against me as opposed to with me I would be less willing to cooperate," Harry said.

"You understand that it is our job to be cautious and not to simply approve anything you would wish to do?" Goldstein said.

"Naturally," Harry responded. "But I would expect open discussion and debate and compromise. Not simply telling me no."

"And your administrative experience?" Hermione asked.

"Well I figured out the day to day, organized the budget and was the go to for students or teachers with any problems or suggestions," Harry said. "As well as dealing with the parents too."

"How many students are in your school?" Goldstein asked.

"One Hundred and three," Harry said. "We did a five-year structure and not a seven."

"That's tiny compared to Hogwarts," Greengrass added.

"Yes," Harry said. "But it's new and competing with other magical institutions over there. Although the other ones tended to be very reclusive. We focused on being more inclusive."

"What changes would you be most interested in making?" Goldstein asked.

"I don't know," Harry said. "I have been away from Hogwarts for a long time. I have, admittedly, not paid that close of attention to what has been going on there. I would need to observe before I could decide on anything further."

"So you are not opposed to the status quo?" Greengrass asked.

"Not entirely," Harry said. "But I think the status quo is going to change regardless," Harry said.

"What makes you say that?" Hermione asked.

"Well, that Professor Slughorn guy just gave the potions job to his apprentice. And if the rumors are to be believe, Sprout and McGonagall both want to retire. So that means three Heads of House are changing. And three new professors will be in core classes. Tell me, was your plan to give Miss Farley Slytherin too?"

"We were going to leave that decision to the new head," Hermione said. "Professor Vector is probably the most likely candidate."

"And the new professors?" Harry asked.

"Also, to be left to the new Headmaster," Hermione said. "Provided the search doesn't take too long. We've vetted a few candidates already with the intention or providing recommendations to the new Head. As well as the full list of candidates if they wish to move in another direction."

"And have Percy and Fudge already decided on their candidates?" Harry asked.

"Not that I've heard," Hermione said.

"Probably," Greengrass said.

"Almost assuredly," Goldstein added.

"I guess it comes down to the lesser of two evils then," Harry said. "You can either let Fudge run your department. Or you can hire someone more interested in education than power and governmental control."

"There are other candidates," Greengrass said.

"No there aren't," Harry said. "Fudge saw to that."

"You've already said you didn't really want it," Goldstein commented.

"I don't know if I want to spend the rest of my life doing it. But I guarantee you I'd work quite diligently at it and give you plenty of notice if I decided it wasn't for me," Harry said.

And the interview continued. It took the better part of an hour and Hermione found that Harry answered her questions exactly how she wanted a perspective head to answer. He was able to talk in detail about each subject, about the day to day of running a school, and about any detail that came up.

By the end of it the governors were hanging off of his every word, laughing at his analogies, and eagerly awaiting more.

"I think that's all we need for now," Hermione said. "Thank you for your time, Mister Potter. How can we contact you going forward?"

"Here," Avery said, taking out a piece of parchment and levitating it over to Hermione. "Just give that address to a bird and it will find one of us."

"And thank you for your consideration," Harry said. He stood and shook hands with Goldstein and then Greengrass. For a moment Hermione thought they both looked a little shocked at the gesture. He shook her hand too before turning to leave. He was gone before Hermione quite realized it. She chased him out of the meeting room and into the hallway.

"Thanks for doing this," Avery said, a few paces away from her. Harry shrugged his shoulders.

"No problem," he said as they stepped into the elevator. "Anyway, you were right. It does feel good to be home."

The elevator closed before Hermione could reach it. But, for the first time since Dumbledore's death, she found she wasn't worried about what was to come.

Harry wasn't surprised when he was told he was the top candidate. He'd known that as soon as Hermione actually got her hands on the detailed information about his school in Japan that she'd pick him immediately. He'd thought it would have taken her longer to convince everyone else, though.

Still it had taken a couple of weeks of argument. And then a formal confirmation hearing that both Fudge and Percy had stormed out of. Harry was still rather amused by that memory. Although he suspected that Fudge was going to do everything in his power to make Hermione's life utterly miserable.

But he wasn't worried about that. No there were more pressing things to worry about. Or at least things that he had to accomplish first. Naturally, though, there was an impediment to that right away.

McGonagall looked quite a lot older than a mere decade. But she was certainly as strict as ever. Which, given that he was now her boss, was a bit irritating.

"Are you even still paying attention, Headmaster?" she snapped with a bit of venom in her voice.

"Yes," Harry lied.

"Good. I do not trust that Avery. I'm do not think he should be allowed near students. And if it's your intention to let him teach Defense," His deputy headmistress said.

"He's way too valuable to subject to the curse," Harry said. McGonagall paused and looked at him.

"I do not remember him being a good student in Transfiguration," she said.

"He's not going to teach," Harry said.

"Well then I don't see his purpose here," she commented.

"That's fine. You don't need to," Harry said. McGonagall glared at him. For a moment, he expected she would comment further, but instead she bit her tongue.

"That was all I had," she said.

"I will take it all under consideration then. Have a good evening," Harry said. He stood and gave her a quick nod before leaving the room to return to his office. The gargoyle moved out of his way as he approached and he walked up the stairs slowly, stifling a yawn as he did.

It wasn't quite late enough to be tired. But he'd had a long day of dealing with far too many people that were convinced he only got the position due to Hermione's favoritism. Thankfully he'd stopped really putting stock into opinions that originated outside of his own head quite some time ago.

It was strange, he thought, entering what was now his office. It was much as Dumbledore had left it. He hadn't yet cleaned it out. The portraits, well the ones that were awake, Dumbledore included, all gazed calmly at him. Quite a few of them looked like they wanted to talk, but none of them spoke. Instead they all shifted their gaze to the woman in the room.

She was short and very pretty with angular features and long black hair. She was a few years older than him, just shy of thirty, and was sorting through the books left on one of the bookshelves, arranging them neatly into piles. Harry watched her work for a moment before walking to the chair at the large desk. He sat and placed his feet on the desk. Once the woman finished with one of the shelves she turned to look at him.

"Rough day?" she asked in Japanese.

"Not really," Harry yawned, responding in the same tongue. "I think I'm still on Nagasaki time."

"I think you just like to sleep too much," she said. She walked over to the desk and stepped behind him.

"Well sleeping is preferable to dealing with people annoyed I got a job," Harry said.

"You do look tense," the woman responded. She reached out and put her hands on his shoulders.

"I am," he said.

"Yes, you are," she responded and started to rub his shoulders.

"Mmm thanks, Fumiko" Harry said.

"No problem," Fumiko said.

"Anything interesting on the shelves?" he asked.

"That you'll be interested in? Aside from the tome I left on the desk, I don't think so," she said. He leaned away from her for a moment to pick up the ancient looking book she'd put next to a familiar battered diary he kept with him. He leaned back into her hands and opened it to a random page.

"Well that's dark," he said reading the notes on the page.

"Incredibly," she said. "You know far more about Dumbledore than I do, but why would he have this in his private collection?"

"Knowing him? Probably to make sure that no one else had it. We could always ask him," Harry said.

"Oh," she frowned. She peered over her shoulders at the portraits behind her for a moment but didn't address them further.

"This is all about magic using your soul," Harry said as he flipped through the pages. "I'll have to read more of it."

"I'm guessing you figured out how to silence the portraits?" she asked.

"Apparently if I don't want them to talk they can't. Handy in a pinch or for keeping secrets I'd guess," Harry said. "Or when I just want quiet after being lectured to for most of the day."

"Am I being annoying?" she asked.

"No," Harry said. "Not at all. Although I can't help but wonder. Where's Avery?"

"Getting dinner," she said. "He should be back soon. I think I'll start a pot of tea."

"You can just have the elves make one," Harry said.

"Those vile creatures? They have no idea how to make a proper cup of tea," Fumiko scoffed.

"Funny, I suspect they say the same thing about you," Harry said.

"Well they can't," Fumiko doubled down as the door to the office opened once more. Avery walked in carrying a couple of boxes. Harry frowned immediately.

"New York? Really? There better not be pineapple on those," he said, switching back to English. He sat up and took his feet off the desk as Avery dropped the boxes onto it.

"Only on one of them. And you were outvoted on that Chicago shit. Hey love," Avery said as Fumiko slipped into his arms and kissed him. Harry frowned at them and opened one of the pizza boxes. He glared at the pineapple and closed the box before opening the second one which was far more to his liking.

"I feel like my vote should count for more given that I'm Harry Potter," Harry said.

"An interesting point. Let's vote on it. I vote no," Avery said.

"I also vote no," Fumiko said.

"Well the motion is rejected," Avery said.

"Damn," Harry said as the other two started in on the pizza as well. Fumiko ate part of a piece before starting on tea for all three of them.

"So, have you given any more thought to the open positions?" Avery asked.

"Only one position is currently open," Harry said. He closed his eyes mid bite and relaxed the restrictions on the portraits, figuring they might actually be able to offer some insight now.

"The Auror option wasn't bad," Avery said. The ministry had offered to use a different Auror every year to teach. And, as much as Harry loathed the ministry, he had to admit it wasn't a horrible idea. At the very least they'd be able to come up with some standardized curriculum and work it out from there.

"Yeah, but I hate the ministry," Harry said.

"Sometimes we have to let go of our feelings," the portrait of Dumbledore said.

"And sometimes we get to be petty and not listen to advice like that," Harry countered.

"I am only trying to help," Dumbledore said.

"You could have, you know, just called her Mrs. Price and then she wouldn't have cursed the position. That would have helped," Harry said. The portrait didn't say anything, but the one of Phineas Nigellus chuckled.

"Still we don't really have a better option," Avery said.

"I could do it," Harry said.

"We've talked about that," Avery responded with a frown.

"Excuse me," Fumiko interjected. "But you said that the position is cursed so that whomever holds it can only do so for a year. And that the curse has been lethal and violent in the past."

"I did," Harry said.

"So why would you do it?" Fumiko frowned. "That seems incredibly reckless."

"Perhaps," Harry said. Fumiko glared at Avery, expressing her annoyance at Harry with a single look.

"Harry has two excuses for wanting to try," Avery said.

"They're not excuses they're legitimate reasoning," Harry countered.

"The first," Avery continued, ignoring the outburst. "Is that he thinks if he does it for a year it will both buy him more time to properly investigate the curse and fill the position. And that the curse should accept that he is merely doing it for a year before stopping to focus on the head position. He's gambling that it will not try to kill him because of that."

"That's hardly a gamble it's been proven in the past. No teacher who planned on doing it for only one year ended up worse for wear," Harry said.

"Moody," Avery countered.

"Never technically taught," Harry said.

"And the second reason?" Fumiko asked, seeming to sense that they would simply argue about the first one for the rest of the night if she didn't steer the conversation into a different direction.

"Harry thinks he's immune to the curse," Avery said.

"What? How?" Fumiko asked.

"That, my love, is a long story," Avery responded.

"And one I'm not going to tell in front of a bunch of eavesdropping portraits," Harry said.

"We know why anyway," Madeline Loraine, the sixth Headmistress of Hogwarts said from her top corner of the portrait wall.

"I'll tell you about it later," Avery said to Fumiko.

"And it is a convincing theory," the twenty-third head, a portly man named Albert Allerian, said.

"I don't think you should do anything if there's a chance it could be that dangerous to you," Fumiko said as she handed him a cup of tea. He took a sip and went back to the pizza.

"And I agree," Avery said.

"Well I'm certainly not letting you take a cursed job," Fumiko scoffed.

"I'm not going to," Avery said. "And Harry should understand that if it is too dangerous for me it's too dangerous for him."

"But it likely isn't dangerous for me at all," Harry sighed.

"But we can't definitively prove that," Avery said.

"Fine," Harry sighed, knowing he'd long lost this argument. "I won't attempt it."

"Good," Fumiko said.

"But that doesn't solve our problem," Harry said.

"It does not," Avery said.

"The Auror option is likely the best solution," Dumbledore said. "I would have seriously considered it had Fudge offered it."

"I am not going to take help from Fudge," Harry said. "I'm not going to do anything that makes it seem like I approve of Fudge in any way, shape or form."

"It can be very difficult to run this institution without the approval of the government," Dilys Derwent commented.

"Exceedingly so," Armando Dippet said. "I had to fight them tooth and nail during the war and it made things very complicated."

"Father always said you were afraid of your own shadow," Avery said.

"How dare you!" Dippet commented.

"Let's not argue with portraits," Harry said. He stood from the desk and took another slice of pizza before pacing around the office. They still hadn't completely cleaned out Dumbledore's things, mostly because he hadn't been able to decide what he wanted to keep and what he wanted to get rid of.

"Fine," Avery sighed with a faux annoyance.

"There's really only one legitimate candidate," Harry said.

"Longbottom?" Avery commented.

"Longbottom," Harry said.

"That reeks of favoritism," Dumbledore said.

"I know," Harry said. "But I also hadn't spoken to him in nearly a decade."

"And he was the only one who interviewed worth a damn. And he has three years of experience as an Auror. And probably wouldn't have been more if not for that incident in Oslo," Harry said.

"Wonder if he's still sour at you about that," Avery said.

"Probably," Harry shrugged. "But he seemed fine in the interview."

"You won't face the curse yourself but you will subject one of your friends to it?" Dumbledore asked.

"Are you seriously going to talk to me about not facing a curse? I'm trying to clean up your mess," Harry said. "Hell if I had more time I could probably break it."

"I highly doubt you capable of that," Dumbledore said.

"What did we just say about not arguing with paintings?" Avery asked. Harry chuckled quietly to himself, shaking his head slowly as he continued to pace around the office.

"And it wouldn't really be subjecting him to the curse. Sprout is retiring at the end of next year as well. I'm sure Neville would be more than willing to teach a year of defense and then move into Herbology. And if you can think of a better example of Gryffindor," Harry let his voice trail off.

"You can't just hire your friends," Dumbledore said.

"No, instead I'll just hire former Death Eaters," Harry scoffed.

"Well, I mean," Avery said.

"I don't pay you," Harry countered.

"Valid point," Avery conceded.

"That plan only buys you a year," Phineas said.

"Plenty of time," Harry said.

"To what?" Madeline Loraine asked.

"Figure out how to rid the castle of the curse," Harry said. He traced his hand over the stone wall while he spoke. He could feel the magic still in the castle. He could feel the malicious intent of it. It was almost intoxicating. He let his fingers slide off of the stone.

"And you think you could succeed at that where Dumbledore failed?" Phineas said.

"Yes," Harry said.

"I like him," Phineas said. "He has stones."

"Write to Neville," Harry said. He stepped toward the roost in the corner that Fawkes used to perch on. The bird was gone, there had been no sign of it since Dumbledore died. One feather had fallen to the floor behind it. Harry summoned it to his hand and spun it around his fingers.

"He gets the job?" Avery asked.

"If he wants it," Harry said. "Go ahead and include the bit about Herbology as well. Hell, even if he just wants to apprentice under Sprout for a year to get a feeling for teaching I'd be okay with that. It might not be so foolish to use one of Fudge's Aurors."

"I'll send it in the morning," Avery said.

"You know that he's only offering the Aurors to spy on you," Fumiko said.

"Of course," Harry said. "But I only have six weeks until term starts. So, it is getting annoyingly close to compromise time."

"Surely you must have had someone in mind for the position," Dippet asked.

"Of course. But they're not going to take the job," Harry said.

"Can I ask who?" Dumbledore asked. "I may be able to provide an opinion or help you convince them."

"I doubt it," Harry said. He sat back at the desk and placed the phoenix feather on a battered old diary on the end of his desk before taking a piece of the pineapple pizza. Avery and Fumiko didn't comment as he ate.

"Harry we can't help you if you keep everything to yourself," Dumbledore said.

"I don't recall asking for your help," Harry said.

"Come now, Potter," Phineas said. "No reason to be like that."

"I like you all better when you were quiet," Harry said.

"You can shut them up," Avery commented.

"I know but I may as well get used to it," Harry said. "I'm sure they're only interested in the betterment of the school and they have centuries of experience."

"But you hate being told what to do," Fumiko said.

"I do," Harry said.

"And you hate Dumbledore," Avery said.

"Hate isn't the right word," Harry said as Dumbledore's portrait looked rather affronted by the entire conversation.

"It's closer than anything you'll come up with," Avery said.

"Perhaps," Harry sighed.

"Good lord, boy, how could you hate Dumbledore after all he's done for you," Dippet said.

"Armando," Dumbledore's portrait started.

"Call me boy again," Harry said, this time actually turning to the wall of portraits, "And I'll blast your visage to dust."

"Let's not destroy any magical artwork. Remember, you'll be up there one day," Avery said.

"Only if I sit for a portrait," Harry commented.

"Always the contrarian," Avery responded.

"There's still the matter of the Heads of House," Everard said. Harry turned his gaze to the older head who had, up until this point, been silent.

"Only Slytherin," Harry said. "And Professor Vector has agreed to become the head."

"And the upcoming vacancies?" Everard asked.

"I'll worry more about that next summer," Harry said. "But I'm sure with the general glut of professors available that I'll be able to find someone. I'm sure at least two of them will be interested in the modest bump in pay."

"It is a massive increase in responsibility!" Madeline Lorraine said, sounding rather affronted.

"I'm sure. But that is a horrible selling point. So, I'll stick with the raise angle. I mean hell, have you seen Gemma's clothes and purses? No way she'll be overly thrilled with a Professor's salary. Need to offer something to keep her from like running off with a quidditch star," Harry said.

"Professor Farley was in Slytherin," Dippet said.

"So?" Harry asked. "There's nothing that says they had to be from that house. I'm sure if none of the older professors are interested in it I'll be able to talk Neville and Gemma into Hufflepuff and Gryffindor in some form. If not, I'll just make Avery do it."

"Of course you will," Avery laughed.

"I'm surprised you didn't see that coming," Harry said.

"He thought you'd ask about Slytherin," Fumiko said. Harry turned away from the portraits and frowned.

"Do you want that? I can push Septima off a year," Harry said.

"No," Avery responded. "I'd like to settle into whatever we're doing first before I worry about that. If you want me to do more next year I'm sure I'll be able to do so."

"Ah," Harry said. "Good to know."

"Well I think that should do it for tonight," Harry said. He turned his attention back to the desk and picked up a battered old diary. He examined it for a moment before standing.

"Are you going to need us tomorrow?" Avery asked. He slid an arm around Fumiko as he spoke. She frowned at the diary in Harry's hand but didn't say anything.

"Probably not, why?" Harry asked.

"I wanted to show Fumiko London. And see what my house looks like these days. Touristy stuff, you know. We've been running around a mile a minute since we came back," Avery said.

"Sounds fun," Harry said. "Take the week. I'll be fine here, just cleaning and organizing stuff. If I need you I'll floo."

"Sounds good," Avery said. He and Fumiko turned to leave. She stepped down the spiral staircase but he paused and turned back to Harry.

"What?" Harry asked.

"You're going somewhere," he said. Harry raised his brows.

"What makes you think that?" Harry asked.

"We've been traveling for a decade, Harry. You're not that hard to read," Avery said.

"Neither are you," Harry commented.

"I don't try to be," Avery said. "So where are you going?"

"Nowhere. Go have fun with your wife," Harry said.

"I'm going to regardless. Just, well, just don't do anything too stupidly reckless," Avery said.

"Please, it's me," Harry said.

"Exactly," Avery responded.

"Hawaii?" Harry asked.

"Hawaii," Avery affirmed.

"Well this time I'm sober," Harry said.

"Thank God for that," Avery laughed.

"Have fun in London," Harry said.

"Good luck," Avery said. He stared at Harry for a moment. The young man picked up the phoenix feather and spun it around in his fingers, gazing at it with an unreadable expression. Avery sighed and followed his wife down the staircase.

Dumbledore was dead. The old man hardly believed the news. He never thought the man would die before him. No, especially not with the conditions he'd been forced into. But none of that mattered any longer. Because Albus Dumbledore was dead. And he was not. Once again he'd triumphed.

It was a liberating thought. The old man felt a sense of renewed vigor as it repeated through his head. He pulled himself off of his meager bed and stared out the window of his enchanted tower.

It was a ridiculous thought. Somehow, through it all, he'd been reduced to a Rapunzel. All his power, all his knowledge, all his skill, but just stuck in a tower waiting for someone to rescue him. But that someone had come. At least figuratively.

He flexed his old, weary muscles as he stood. It was difficult work, his body did not react as it should have. Everything was slow, creaked, and seemed on the verge of breaking.

The old man only managed to stay on his feet for a couple of moments before his legs wobbled under the unfamiliar strain. He leaned against the window and stared out at the field where it had all ended. All because of his own stupidity.

Dumbledore shouldn't have been a threat. That much he knew. But he'd been too arrogant to stick with his original plan. No, rather than flee he'd chosen to play with that stupid girl. She hadn't even been pretty enough to have, even without the mud and bile coating her. And he hadn't even managed to drown her. All-in-all, it had been a total waste.

A total waste that had stalled him long enough for Dumbledore to show up. And somehow, a rested Dumbledore had tricked him, bested him. The details were still awash in his head. Decades hadn't made it any clearer. Now, though, he could feel the power returning.

The stupid Austrian had given up immediately after he hadn't reported in. The man hadn't been able to be of use himself, anyway, so it likely wasn't a huge loss. But he'd expected more from his almost ally.

Still, he should have known better than to put any eggs in the muggle basket, as it were.

In the end, all that mattered, was that he'd lost. And he'd wound up trapped in his own citadel with his magic bound. He had never been able to fully discover what exactly his magic had been bound to. But he hadn't been able to cast a spell since that fateful day in nineteen forty-five.

The old man's hand shot out toward the small dresser they allotted him. The top drawer opened as he did. He closed his eyes, his jaw clenching against the effort.

Now, it seemed obvious just what his magic had been bound to. It was coming back to him. Very slowly. But still, it was returning. And it was returning because Albus Dumbledore was dead. He couldn't help but be surprised that his former friend had gone to such lengths to make sure he stayed in his tower.

It had been quite stupid of Albus too. The old man certainly wouldn't have done the same had their roles been reversed. No, he'd have just killed Albus. Problem solved.

He raised his hand and a small vial floated out of the dresser. It took him a couple of moments to get it to float to his hand. It was oddly warm to the touch, like fresh coffee in a glass mug. But he didn't care.

It took his feeble hands three tries to get the stopper out. He dropped it without a second thought and slowly raised the vial to his lips. The liquid was icy on his tongue, but burned hot down his throat. He struggled to swallow it, his body seeming more interested in rejecting any sustenance after so long than accepting it. But he got it all down.

The pain was immediate.

He hadn't expected pain. It knocked him off of his feet immediately. He writhed on the ground, unable to do anything else despite his best efforts. He could hear a commotion before him. The guards, he figured. They must have heard him fumbling around. No doubt they were on their way up to abuse him further.

But if so, why were they screaming so much? Or were those pained screams resonating through his head only his own? He couldn't say. He couldn't know. His mind was feeble, his muscles were useless, his body was on the verge of death.

It certainly was not how he'd imagined it ending. With every fiber of him betraying itself. What a sight it must have been to see him, of all people, rolling around on the ground in the agony of death. At least, he thought, it would be over soon.

And then it was.

He pulled himself to his feet. The new strength in his legs was incredible. He stretched him slowly before lowering himself and rising once more. His legs worked. They really worked. He punched the air in excitement.

The simple gesture made him realize his arms worked as well. He stretched them, too, reaching up and to the side, laughing as they cooperated, and cooperated quickly.

He stepped toward the dresser and peered into the small mirror resting on top of it. Victory stared back at him.

He saw himself, seventy years younger. His icy blue eyes narrowed at the image. His blond hair had returned fully, his body was lean and strong. He stared at his face for a moment, recognizing himself in the glass for the first time in what felt like a lifetime.

Gellert Grindelwald, he thought, had returned.

"Break," he said, and the mirror complied, shattering into thousands of pieces. He reached into the open dresser drawer and pulled out the faded letter. It had come with a small parcel, over a decade prior.

He'd never thought Nicholas Flamel stupid. But the rambling incoherence of the dying old man, talking of how he'd give the last two vials of the Elixir of Life to the two young men he'd tried to train all those years ago. Well, it reeked of schmaltz. And now, one of those men was dead. And the other was ready to return.

He opened the dresser and pulled out an old black robe. It was littered with holes and oddly dusty. But it was cleaner and fit him better than any of his current wardrobe. He dressed and then sized it with a wave of his hand. The robe shifted into his old uniform. Black and silver accents, dual lightning bolts on the shoulders. He frowned at the thought. If the world was as he'd heard, then perhaps lightning bolts were not the insignia of choice. He waved his hand once more and removed the trim from the uniform.

Grindelwald moved toward the door keeping him locked in his tower. He placed his hand on it and closed his eyes. There were four separate locking spells on the door. It would have taken him seconds to get through without a wand. But he didn't have a wand. Still, he doubted their magic, especially without Dumbledore's protections.

But those protections were fading quickly underneath his power. It only took six minutes for the door to click open. An alarm rang as soon as he opened the door.

He was greeted by screaming from below as he stepped from the room. Perhaps, he thought, some of his more ardent followers had similar ideas to his own. Two guards met him running up the stairs. Grindelwald eviscerated them with a wave of his hand. He caught one of the wands from the air and continued down the tower.

They were fighting in earnest on the ground floor. What he found shocking; however, was the lack of guards at his tower. He only counted ten, including the two he'd already killed. Worse still, was that they appeared to be only fighting four men.

The remaining guards were nothing he couldn't deal with in moments. He waved the wand around the room and sealed all of their throats. They fell slowly, gagging against the lack of air. Grindelwald ignored them as they fell. The four remaining men knelt before him.

"Stand," he said and they obeyed.

"Sir, when we heard Dumbledore was gone," one started.

"You figured it was a good time to free me," Grindelwald said. "After your previous attempts failed. The last one of which was, I believe, twenty years ago."

"Yes sir," another man stated.

"Well, I would have broken myself out today regardless. But things will be easier with some support," Grindelwald said. "Follow me."

"Yes sir," one man said.

"Where are we going?" another asked.

"We have rights to wrong," Grindelwald said. "From what I've read, we are growing even more stagnant than before. And then we're letting the muggles have their way with the world. It is disgusting."

"Yes sir," one of the soldiers said.

"And in addition to that, one of the articles discussed the most dangerous wizards of all time. And to my chagrin I was merely second. Finishing behind some faux British Lordling," Grindelwald scoffed at the notion.

"A disgusting thought," a soldier said.

"Quite. And now it's time to prove them wrong," Grindelwald said, stepping outside. "To prove them so very wrong."

"Yes sir," one of the soldiers said as Grindelwald took his first free steps outside into the warm summer air. He turned back to look at his tower. He examined it for long enough that the soldiers started to shuffle around.

"Sir?" one asked.

"One last thing," Grindelwald said. He let the magic flow into him and with one quick slash he cleaved the tower clean off of his citadel. The building served no more purpose. So he was going to repurpose it. He blasted the remnants off toward the Muggle town nearby. The same town whose filthy inhabitants had conveniently forgotten that the tower existed.

"There," Grindelwald said. He turned and started to walk away from the citadel and the town. Moments later a loud crashing rang through the air as the ground shook all around them. Miles away a stone tower crushed a Muggle church in the middle of morning service.

"Much better. Now we can begin again," Grindelwald said. Dumbledore was dead. It was finally time for him to live.