Consequences

Disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to Harry Potter characters or settings. My ideas are my own.

AN: I've had this idea floating around for a while. Please enjoy.

It started with an owl. It was big and dark, very dour and stern as it perched imperiously on the kitchen table in Grimauld Place. The bird dropped an official-looking envelope in front of each of the people sitting at breakfast, and then turned and flew back through the open window without a sound.

Harry and Hermione glanced at each other and ran a few quick spells over the envelopes to make sure they were safe. And when the spells didn't turn up anything, they picked them up to see who they were from.

"It's got the Ministry seal on it," Hermione said apprehensively.

Harry sighed. "Lovely." He often thought it had been a mistake to remove the wards that had blocked the owl mail while Grimauld Place had been the Order's headquarters.

Since his defeat of Voldemort, the Ministry had been increasingly obnoxious in their efforts to get the Golden Trio under their control in some way – at least in the view of the public. But Harry wasn't particularly interested in being an Auror anymore. Nor were Hermione or Ron. Aside from Hermione campaigning for some particular laws to be changed, none of them were interested in involving themselves in the bureaucratic mess that the Ministry had been after the war.

Harry could only wonder what form this latest attempt to pressure them would take.

No point in putting it off. Harry cracked the wax seal and opened the envelope, pulling out a sheet of heavy parchment.

But as he scanned over the letter inside… Well, it was something new, anyway.

"Let me see yours," Hermione demanded, taking it out of his hands before Harry had a chance to give it to her. He watched her scan the letters side-by-side, her scowl deepening as she read.

"So? What's the verdict?" Not that he hadn't understood what had been written, but he knew that Hermione was going to sum things up anyway.

"We're being exiled," she stated angrily. "For war crimes!"

"Yeah, I saw," Harry said, not nearly as upset as she was. Honestly, he was sort of surprised they hadn't tried something like this sooner.

"Theft and destruction of property, attacking respected citizens, conspiring to deceive government officials!"

"I particularly liked the bit where they accused me of being an unregistered animagus."

"But you're not!"

Harry shrugged. As cool and potentially useful as the animagus transformation was, he'd never had the time to learn it. Maybe he should. Hermione huffed and threw the letters down onto the table.

They heard the floo go off in the other room, and after a moment Ron entered the kitchen, a bright smile on his face and a letter written on heavy parchment in his hand. Looking around and spotting their letters, his grin widened.

"You all got letters too? This is brilliant."

"What's so bloody brilliant about it, Ronald?" Hermione demanded caustically.

Ron looked taken aback. "Um, well. Order of Merlin. Kind of a big deal. Mum's over the moon." Hermione's eyebrows shot up into her hair and she stood and snatched Ron's letter out of his hands, scanning it quickly. "Is that… not the same as your letters?" Ron asked.

Harry shook his head and handed one of them to Ron to read.

Ron's eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed into the look he got when he was playing a difficult game of chess. "You're an animagus?" he asked skeptically when he reached that part.

"Yeah, mate," Harry said. "Meant to tell you, but it was kind of embarrassing. I turn into a butterfly."

"No, Ron," Hermione huffed. "He's not. He doesn't. He's joking. What are we going to do about this?"

An hour later, the house was filling up with people. Hermione was kept busy transfiguring seating for everyone, and Ginny and Luna helped when they arrived.

The biggest shock was when Draco Malfoy stepped out of the floo, a slightly younger blonde girl standing nervously at his side.

"What are you doing here, Malferret?" Ron demanded.

"Choosing a side," Draco answered calmly. He and the girl then stepped past the gaping redhead and into the room where everyone was assembling.

When little Looney Lovegood approached her about interviewing Harry Potter again, Rita Skeeter of course jumped at the chance. The last article hadn't initially made her any money since it had only been published in the Lovegood's rag, but it had done wonders for her reputation. And, well, there had been a lot of interest in it since the war. She'd even been approached about the possibility of a book.

She stepped out of the floo and brushed herself off before making her entrance. And, oh, what a surprise! She'd expected it to be like last time – just her and Potter. (Well, and Lovegood and that Granger brat.) But there was an audience here. Rita had expected something big, but this was big.

"Well, isn't this cozy," she said, smiling at the gathered people. They were young, most barely out of Hogwarts. Legal adults, but not old enough to be taken seriously by anyone. And Rita got the feeling that someone had made just that mistake.

"Welcome, Miss Skeeter," Lovegood said airily, directing her to an empty seat. "Would you care for some pumpkin juice before we begin?"

"That's quite alright. Why don't we just get started?"

The Granger brat nodded and handed her a small stack of parchment. It was a trio of letters – official Ministry correspondence, she noted, and scanned the top one quickly. Well. So Weasely was set to receive an Order of Merlin? Dull. Expected. The only mystery was why it had taken so long. Rita flipped to the next page, expecting more of the same. But what she found instead…

Well it didn't really make much sense. Why give Weasely a medal and exile the other two?

"Well, this is interesting," she said. "Any truth to the accusations?"

"Of course there are," Granger said derisively. But for once, Rita thought that it was not her that the girl's ire was focused on. The Ministry didn't know what they were getting themselves into, annoying that brat.

"We were at war," the Weasely boy added with a shrug. "But it's not like it was only them doing those things. I was too."

"So why reward one and exile the rest?" Rita asked. Because surely they had some idea.

"Well, there could be any number of reasons," Potter said. "They've been harassing us for some time now, trying to get us to accept some sort of position that could imply that they control us. Among other things, they've offered to let us skip basic Auror training if we'll join up. Or failing that, they've offered us dead-end desk jobs in the Ministry. But we've had enough fighting, and we'd rather get jobs based on our skills and abilities rather than on our fame. In fact, we'd rather they just left us alone."

"They're also not too happy about the legal changes I've been campaigning for," Granger added. "Things to protect magicals who aren't pureblood wizards, as well as several species of sentient magical creatures."

Rita had heard about those. And as much as she disagreed with some of the proposed changes, she could completely understand the muggleborn girl fighting for a place in their society for herself and others like her. Rita had had to battle her way into mainstream journalism as a witch, nevermind as a half-blood. As much as she disliked Granger, she could respect what she was trying to do.

"Or," Weasely added, "it could be because the Minister's up for reelection next year." He shrugged casually. "There's been rumors that Harry's going to run. Which isn't true. But if it were, he'd have the support to win."

Oh, oh it was a power play. They wanted the Boy-Who-Lived either visibly under their thumb, or completely out of the way. (Granger had probably just made too much of a nuisance of herself.)

"Plus," Lovegood said, "though not officially a requirement, the Order of Merlin is only ever awarded to pureblood wizards. Which, of course, Harry and Hermione are not."

That… wasn't true. Was it? But Rita couldn't think of a single recipient of the award who wasn't.

"What do you intend to do?" Rita asked, almost breathless in excitement. She could smell change coming. And she was going to have the story.

Potter shrugged, as if it just didn't matter to him at all. "Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"Nothing," Potter repeated. "We have a month to get our lives in order and get out of the country. They've got a month to change their minds. And if they haven't changed their minds by the end of the month…" Potter shrugged again. "We'll leave."

Rita stared at the assembled youngsters incredulously. She didn't believe for one single moment that they would really just sit back and accept this. So what was the catch?

There was Potter, front and center as always. The little Weasley girl sat on one side of him, their hands loosely joined, and Lovegood perched on the arm of the redhead's chair. On Potter's other side was Granger, with the Weasely boy's arm slung casually across her shoulders. There were another few Weasely children in the crowd, but no one she'd bothered to take note of before. There was the Longbottom heir with his fiancé, and the Bones heir and…

Rita suddenly noticed just how many heirs of the old families were in the room. The Malfoy heir and his new bride were even present.

She scanned the assembled group again. She was more aware of who these young men and women were than she would normally be of people this age, since most had been in Potter's year at Hogwarts. And not just those from his house were present. There were Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, and even a few Slytherins here and there. Aspiring teachers and herbologists and potioneers and healers. There were people who had been sought after for Auror training and Ministry positions.

It was a whole rising generation of wizarding Britain gathered in one room, Rita realized with a sort of horror. There was power and talent and skill in this room. These were the people who had fought off the Death Eaters controlling Hogwarts, who had organized a revolution from the shadows during the war. And with so many old family heirs here (Malfoy, Potter, Lovegood, Longbottom, Zabinin, Greengass, Abbot, Bones, Prichard, and on and on) they controlled, or would control, a significant portion of the wealth of wizarding Britain.

"You'll leave?" Rita asked, faint with the realization of just what Potter meant to do.

The crowed shifted, drawing closer together, and there were several determined nods.

"Yes," Potter said. "If they want us to go, we'll leave."