Title: Magic's Champion (A Gift of Ordinary Magic: The Hogwarts Remix]

Author: M. Scott Eiland

Summary: A desperate attempt to stop Voldemort has drastic consequences—and Harry and his friends are challenged to justify their actions.

Rating: PG-13, for language and themes.

Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Harry Potter

Spoilers: All seven seasons of Buffy and all five seasons of Angel: the first six Harry Potter books (AU thereafter).

Title, Author and URL of original story: A Gift of Ordinary Magic, by Lizbeth Marcs. .

Disclaimer: These characters all belong to Joss Whedon and JKR—I'm just borrowing them.

MAGIC'S CHAMPION

"You can't be serious, Hermione." Harry Potter stared at his best friend, unable to believe what he had just heard her suggest.

"I'm afraid I am, Harry." Hermione was more tired than she could ever remember being, but she forced herself to look Harry right in the eye as she added, "This will end the threat of Voldemort, Harry—it will stop the killing."

"At what cost?" Harry whispered, looking away from Hermione and out the windows of the astronomy tower. It was daylight, and the scene outside looked deceptively peaceful. The dozens of Death Eaters lurking just outside the wards weren't visible—the dead and wounded described in the lurid articles and photos of the copy of the Daily Prophet open on the desk next to him certainly weren't. He looked down at the letter in his hand—it was the last report they had received from Fred and George, dated two weeks before. The twins hadn't been heard from since, though he believed that Voldemort's toadies in the Wizarding media would be gloating about the deaths of the "blood traitors" had either or both of them been slain. He closed his eyes to ward off the despair that threatened to overwhelm him. Dumbledore was gone, and the others—God help them—were looking to him to lead. Fine—I'll lead. But I'm not committing to this without hearing other opinions. He turned back to Hermione and noted, "We're going to need several others to help us with this, right?" Hermione nodded, and Harry frowned, then nodded once before ordering, "Call the others together—we're going to do this as a group, or not at all."

Hermione blinked, then nodded and left. Harry could see the doubt on her face, and he didn't blame her in the slightest. He looked out the window again. Can we really do this?

Harry took a deep breath and forced himself to stay calm as he looked at the group sitting at the table in front of him. They had been his steadfast allies during the Siege of Hogwarts—which was now going on its sixteenth week—and by now their faces were all as familiar to him as those of his best friends, or—less pleasantly—the Dursleys. He coughed self-consciously and said, "Thank you all for coming. As you know, Hermione has been conducting extensive research for a way to help us fight back against Voldemort, and she has uncovered something that she believes—and which I agree—would finish Voldemort once and for all." The others at the table—save Hermione, who remained still and somber—straightened visibly and registered hope as Harry added, "If we do this, there will be a very, very serious cost—one which many would not want to pay if given a choice. I rely on you for advice, and I am asking you to be completely honest and open with any objections you have about this plan."

"Well then, get on with it, Harry." Mad-Eye Moody replied, his magical eye whirling in its socket as his ruined features took on a determined look. "Hermione wouldn't recommend it if it wasn't a workable plan, and you wouldn't look so concerned if there wasn't a real downside. We're here to listen."

Harry smiled gratefully at the retired Auror for cutting through his discomfort and making him get to the point, and he nodded to Hermione—who spoke for ten minutes, with the only other sound in the room being the soft breathing of the other twelve people present. When she finished, she was pale and visibly upset, but she managed to inclined her head at Harry and sit down without further hesitation. Harry looked at her with concern, then turned back to the others and invited, "All right—anything anyone wants to say: now's the time to say it."

There was silence for several seconds before Ron coughed once, then looked directly at Harry as he whispered, "You want us to get rid of magic?"

"'Want' isn't the right word, Ron: Hermione's found a ritual so that we can get rid of magic—and that will finish Voldemort. Considering that we're losing the war, I thought we should consider it as a plan." Harry replied without hesitation, looking at his best friend without anger. "If anyone has another plan—or thinks that things aren't as bad as I'm making them out to be—I'm ready to listen."

Harry wasn't surprised when his comment was met with silence: no one at the table needed to be told how bad things were.

Things had actually gone rather well for a while after Dumbledore's death: Harry, Hermione, and Ron had joined forces and found two of Voldemort's horcruxes—one concealed in the cup that had once belonged to Helga Hufflepuff, the other within the diadem that had once belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw—and destroyed them before Harry's seventeenth birthday. The locket that had once belonged to Salazar Slytherin eluded them, though—and when the new owner was revealed as none other than the vile Dolores Umbridge, they immediately went to her home with the plan of confronting her and either talking her out of the locket or taking it forcibly with an Obliviation spell as punctuation. They found her front door open, and her wide-eyed corpse lying in the entry hallway. A broken chain lay atop a folded note, and Harry had opened it with a shaking hand to read: "Nice try, Potter. I will be leaving this trinket in the care of Fidelius for the duration of this conflict. I underestimated Regulus Black—and you. I will do neither again. -V."

With the hunt for the Horcruxes having been ended definitively, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had decided to return to Hogwarts for their final year—to serve as an example for others to come after Dumbledore's death, and to use it as a base of operations against Voldemort. However, what was intended as a simple regrouping turned out to be a lasting choice, as on the third of September Voldemort launched massive attacks on both London and Hogsmeade. Diagon Alley quickly became occupied territory, and the Ministry of Magic itself was forced to close its wards forcefully, leaving the leadership isolated and besieged. Hogsmeade also fell quickly, and Death Eaters formed a permanent watch around the perimeter of Hogwarts—allowing nothing to enter or leave save by the leave of Voldemort. Faced with a horrific situation, Headmistress McGonagall quickly made a hard choice and subjected every person within the walls of Hogwarts to Veritaserum to determine if there were any spies among those present. No Death Eaters were found—but there were two children whose parents had been taken and who were under threat to compel their status as informers. After a grim discussion, it was decided to put the children under a lasting sleeping spell, to protect them and to spare them the worry over the fate of their parents. Harry had watched the potions being administered, and left the sickroom with a heavy heart.

"So how exactly does it work?" Ron spoke again, bringing Harry out of his reflections on the recent past. "The magic goes away, this world merges with another one—do we just stop existing? Might as well go down fighting against Voldemort if we're dead anyway!"

"It's not quite that simple, Ron." Hermione spoke up, sounding weary. Ron went silent, and Hermione gave him a wan smile before continuing, "As we know from our studies in History of Magic-" Harry stifled a smile—he doubted that even McGonagall and Flitwick had paid much attention to those particular lectures—as Hermione went on: "-there are countless worlds in existences parallel to our own: some have magic, some don't. The ritual we are proposing will—in addition to driving the magic out of our world—push our world into congruence with a non-magical world that is otherwise very much like our own, including in the people who live their. Our lives will merge with those of our counterparts, leaving both somewhat changed, but as individuals ready and able to survive in a world without magic."

"What about the magical creatures, Hermione?" Tonks had been sitting quietly, holding Remus' hand, and her eyes shone as she asked the question. "Will there be a place for them in this new world?"

"The ones who are partly or mostly human will become fully so in the new environment." Hermione replied, as she looked at Remus, Tonks, and then over at Hagrid. They all nodded, and Hermione swallowed hard as she turned to the seat to her left and added, "Those who are purely magical creatures will leave with the magic, and will join with counterparts in another world that is magical. Dobby. . .I'm afraid that means that you wouldn't be coming with us."

The house elf looked up at Hermione and blinked, then turned to Harry and said quietly, "Dobby would be sad to live in a world without Harry Potter and his brave friends—but He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named must be stopped, and Dobby knows that other house elves feel this way too. Dobby will support Harry Potter's plan."

"I'll miss being able to be able to turn into a cat." Minerva McGonagall spoke quietly, and the others looked at her quietly as she snorted abruptly and amended, "Well, I suppose I won't, given the circumstances." She looked at Harry and Hermione and commented, "We still need to work through the details, but I'm sensing that we're moving in the direction of agreeing to this. We should see if there are any serious objections, then move on to implementation if we're agreed."

Harry nodded grimly and stated, "Anyone who wants to speak up—now's the time."

"Any world where you're there and Voldemort isn't is fine with me, Harry." Ginny whispered, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "It's just sad, that's all."

"If this had happened six years ago I might have welcomed it." Neville sighed, shaking his head as his friends smiled at the memories of Neville in his first days at Hogwarts. "Ginny's right—it's sad, but we need to beat that bastard. Too many of us have died already."

Remus and Tonks looked at each other, then back at Harry as they said simultaneously, "We're with you, Harry" then turned back to each other with smiles as Hagrid nodded once at Harry, then took a long draft from the huge mug in front of him.

Mad-Eye also nodded at Harry, then muttered, "Maybe the other me will have a few more intact parts," drawing a laugh from the others—except for Luna, who remained silent, with an oddly serene look on her face.

Harry looked at Luna with concern and asked, "Luna, you haven't said anything—what do you think about all of this?"

The blonde witch looked over at Harry with a calm expression and replied, "It's not going to solve the problem, Harry."

Harry blinked at the blunt reply and asked, "Do you mean that we shouldn't do it, Luna?" He sensed Hermione tensing at his side—he knew that Hermione was uncomfortable with Luna's intuitive approach to the world, but he knew that sometimes her instincts were dead on. He pressed, "Luna—are we making a mistake?"

Luna shook her head, and replied, "We need to do it—but it won't solve the problem. Magic always finds a way."

Harry frowned, but Luna did not elaborate further. He looked at the others, almost begging them for an objection with his eyes, but there was only silence. He sighed, then turned back to Hermione and asked quietly, "All right then, Hermione—what do we need to do next?"

Voldemort was not an individual used to feeling shock. Anger, yes. Random playful sadistic impulses—almost hourly. Shock was an emotion born of setback and being taken off-guard, and the Dark Lord rarely experienced either. Even the moment of his greatest defeat—his body's destruction by the Killing Curse that had rebounded from Harry Potter—was not accompanied by shock on his part, if only because the moment passed too quickly for him to perceive it while he was still corporeal and able to experience such emotions. It was a remarkable moment, then, when the low hum coming from a ring on his left index finger caused an icy chill to go down his spine and induced him to cease the rant he was directing at one of his servants.

"What. . .what is the matter, My Lord?" The Death Eater stammered, knowing from the expression on his master's face that something terrible had happened. Voldemort gestured savagely for silence, and the Death Eater complied instantly, watching as the reptilian features went blank, then assumed a look of resignation.

Voldemort sighed inwardly. No point in delaying the inevitable. He seized the arm of the Death Eater in front of him and touched the Dark Mark there, triggering its dark call to his minions. In moments, hundreds of Death Eaters had apparated into Voldemort's audience chamber, awaiting instructions from their master.

The Dark Lord looked at his servants for a long moment before announcing, "I am going to be conducting a ritual that will have side effects on you through my link with you through the Dark Marks—side effects that would leave you vulnerable should you be outside during this time. For this reason, I am ordering you to retire to your quarters and wait there for my next command. Severus will be bringing sleep potions to you to allow you to avoid the less. . .pleasant parts of the connection. Unless you enjoy intense pain, I'd suggest taking the potion." The Death Eaters were silent, and Voldemort sighed again before gesturing and concluding, "Leave me. Severus, a word, please."

Bellatrix Lestrange gave Voldemort a questioning look, but the Dark Lord shook his head once—causing the senior Death Eater to nod in affirmance and head out—before turning to his Potions Master and asking, "You have knowledge of sleeping draughts that require no magic to function, correct?"

Snape nodded. "Some creatures are naturally resistant to magic, and require such measures." He frowned, then added, "I should have enough—barely—to put everyone here to sleep for forty-eight hours. If you need more, I will need-"

"That will suffice, Severus. The matter will be resolved by then." Voldemort replied quietly. It was not kindness, but an impulse towards honesty that caused the Dark Lord to add, "You have been a good servant to me, Severus—I have no doubt that you would do well in whatever role fate had in store for you." Snape blinked in confusion, and Voldemort shook his head almost sadly and concluded, "Administer the potion to the others—then yourself. It's for the best."

Snape bowed and departed, and Voldemort departed his audience chamber in haste, heading for the ritual chamber that he maintained with great care and at great expense. He closed, locked and bolted the door after he entered, then took a moment to feel the shock again.

This is madness, Potter—I never thought you'd do it.

In the course of his decades of magical research, Voldemort had long ago discovered a ritual that would—through drastic manipulation of dimensional barriers—cause all of the magic in the world to go elsewhere and cause the world to merge with another, non-magical one that was otherwise very similar to it. The ritual would take four hours to complete, and—once completed—would complete its grim work within thirty-six hours, with only the original participants in the ritual being able to reverse its effects. When he had discovered the ritual, he had shuddered, then decided that he would be ready should any madman decide to conduct the ritual. The ring on his hand was charmed to warn him should the ritual ever be started, and was also designed to tell him exactly where the ritual was being held—the emanations from the ritual were intense enough that even a Fidelius Charm would not hide them.

Unfortunately, the ritual was being held within the impervious wards of Hogwarts—Voldemort had immediately dismissed the idea of being able to breach those wards and storm the ritual site in time to prevent the disaster. Once it was done, magical powers of all kinds would be draining away—but more slowly from those who had held the ritual. He knew that he would not be able to force Potter and his friends to change their minds, even if they wandered out from their refuge in the last hours. No, his paranoia about this threat had borne fruit—but it would not let him avert the disaster that was to come. His only recourse was escape.

With great care, he drew a powerful ritual circle ten feet in diameter. He took the locket of Slytherin—now hanging on a new chain—and put it around his neck. He cast a gentle Summoning Spell, and Nagini floated over to him where he stood in the center of the circle. The mighty snake curled into a smaller circle around its master, careful not to disturb the ritual circle. Voldemort smiled briefly, then waved his wand and spoke a single word.

The ritual circle glowed, and a translucent hemisphere appeared above Voldemort and Nagini. Voldemort nodded in satisfaction and sat down to wait. The ritual circle would protect all of the magic within its boundaries as the magic was drained from the rest of the world. When the rest of the magic was gone, the protected area would be physically rejected by the now magic free dimension, sent elsewhere with the purely magical creatures. Voldemort would be in a new world with the remaining parts of his soul and all of his power. He would have lost one world. . .but he would have another, unsuspecting world to conquer.

Will Potter really go through with it? He had, oddly enough, been mostly truthful when explaining himself to his minions. From what he had been able to determine, the draining away of magic would be quite unpleasant for any wizards or witches exposed to it—and the Death Eaters would have been easy pickings for the less-affected ones who had conducted the ritual. If Potter changed his mind, Voldemort wanted his army more or less intact. If he didn't. . .well, it wouldn't matter one way or another, would it? Better to let the fools dream of a world they'll never see.

The boundaries of the circle flashed bright blue, and Voldemort scowled. So. . .it begins.

The stars were beautiful.

Harry ignored the dizziness that lurked at the back of his consciousness as the small group of wizards and witches moved along the boundaries of the well-tailored estates. It had been just over twenty-four hours since the ritual was completed, and the sequence of events that had brought them all here was a blur in his memories.

Hermione had determined that the draining away of magic would be very painful to those experiencing it—a revelation that had caused Harry a long moment of doubt before he once again agreed to move forward with the plan—and they had arranged for everyone who was not to be participating in the ritual in Hogwarts to be put into a deep sleep using a purely non-magical sleeping draught provided by Madame Pomfrey and Professor Slughorn. The—truthful if misleading—explanation given to all was that the group was about to conduct a major ritual aimed at Voldemort, and that it would be dangerous for those not participating to be awake for it.

Unfortunately, there was no such relief available for Hogsmeade. When the ritual was completed, they exited the castle—leaving Dobby, Tonks, and Hagrid deep in the protective slumber of the sleeping draught—and moved to the edge of the wards near Hogsmeade, hoping to catch the presumably distracted Death Eaters by surprise. There were no Death Eaters, but they could all hear the faint sound of screaming coming from the direction of the town. They ran to the edges of the settlement and looked on in horror as dozens of wizards and witches screamed in agony and without comprehension of what was happening to them. Harry and Ron looked at each other, and without verbally agreeing to do so they began casting Stunning Curses at the hapless townspeople, knocking them out and stopping the pain. Hermione's research had suggested that after twelve hours, the pain would be gone and those still conscious would be too disoriented to be in significant pain. "When this is over, Harry, they won't remember any of it. It'll be all right." Harry had been silent, but "all right" was the last phrase that came to mind as he passed the still forms on the ground as they left the town behind.

They had walked to a nearby muggle town and rented a van—Remus, of all people, knew how to drive—and they drove for hours, stopping at communities along the way to see what the effects of the ritual were on them. The muggles seemed to be mostly unaffected, though Harry believed that he noticed some of them looking distracted, as if they weren't quite sure of their surroundings.

The van broke down in a small town about twenty miles to the northwest of London, and no one present saw any point in bothering to get it fixed. They abandoned the vehicle and had a very nice meal in a small inn before they walked out into the night. None of them put a name to what it was that made them wander in their last hours in this incarnation, but they all agreed that they didn't feel like renting a room and waiting for the end.

There were a number of small estates outside the town, and they walked past them quietly, stumbling occasionally as the continued drain of their magic made them clumsy. No one spoke.

Harry was the first one to spot the figure emerging from the darkness behind and above them as they passed the fifth estate. He caught the attention of the others and they all turned to face the approaching man. He was about Ron's height and looked to be in his early twenties. His hair was dark and medium length, and his right eye was brown—the left one was apparently missing, as it was covered by an eyepatch. He was looking at the group with an expression that Harry couldn't quite interpret—except that it clearly wasn't friendly. Professor McGonagall stirred at Harry's side and was about to speak when the man glared at them and shouted, "What in the hell did you idiots do?"

Harry felt a wave of guilt, which faded quickly as he realized, We're trespassing—he wants us off of his property. Professor McGonagall had apparently come to the same conclusion, and she was already replying in a soothing tone, "I'm very sorry, sir. We were at a costume party at one of the nearby estates and there was an unfortunate incident that caused the event to break up. We'd be glad to leave and we won't trouble-"

The man laughed bitterly, and Professor McGonagall stopped in mid-sentence. Harry winced slightly—never in his wildest dreams of rebellion had he ever imagined shutting down the intimidating witch quite that thoroughly. He listened as the man stared at McGonagall and snapped, "Nice try—you can sell that line to someone who doesn't know what's going on. I know that you're wizards and witches and that you've been getting beaten by some crazy guy named Voldemort-" Everyone except Harry and the dark-haired man visibly reacted to the forbidden name, and the man nodded grimly and added, "-and since I know that everyone else with any magic in them is dying or just nuts right now, I bet that you're the bunch of fools who decided to solve your problem by just getting rid of magic. . .aren't you?"

"What do you know about it?" Ron stepped forward, glaring at the newcomer. "You're not a wizard."

"Are you a squib?" Hermione stepped forward, looking at the man with fascination. "My studies indicated that the ritual should have been rather disorienting to squibs."

"I thought you called people like me, um, muggeds." The man sounded puzzled, though the anger was still audible in his voice.

"I believe you mean 'muggle,' young man." Remus spoke quietly, looking at the man calmly. Harry watched him with some concern—he knew that leaving Tonks behind had been a terrible strain for his friend, but he had refused to abandon Harry and his friends during their final hours of exploration.

The man nodded emphatically. "That's it—that's what I am."

Harry swallowed hard and spoke for the first time. "What do you know about what has happened?"

The man looked at Harry closely, as if realizing that he was somehow more important to this group than would be apparent by looking at the ages of its members. He looked into Harry's eyes and replied in a low, even tone: "What I know is that you were losing the war, and you decided that the only way to win was to end the whole damned thing—get rid of all of the magic, and the evil wizard goes away with it. Well, congratulations—it's working!" He gestured savagely behind him and bellowed, "Except that now I've got a house full of people who need that magic to live—including just about everyone I love in this entire world—and they're dying and I can't do a damned thing to save them! So thanks a lot for dragging us all to hell with that bastard!"

Harry felt a chill down his spine, and he saw Ron and Hermione look at each other in confusion. The older wizards and witch were silent, and Harry had a feeling they were less in the dark about the young man's anger. He forced down the confusion and addressed the man again: "I didn't think-"

"Yeah, I got that. This whole thing doesn't feel like something that was thought through real well." The man spoke wearily, turning away from Harry and looking back at the estate with a pained expression on his face as he continued, "Did you really think that you people were the only ones on the planet who used magic—or who needed it to exist? WRONG! I've got a house full of Slayers, and Watchers, and vampires, and magic users—hell, I've even got a God-King and a mystical Key in there! They're all just fading away while I watch!"

McGonagall spoke again, and she sounded old and tired. "The Council."

"Bingo." The man whispered. "Did you forget about them? Did you even think about picking up a phone or, right, sending an owl to let Giles know what was going on?"

Hermione looked at McGonagall, and Harry saw an expression on her face as she spoke that he rarely associated with his brilliant friend-utter bafflement: "The Council?"

"It's a long-" McGonagall began, then stopped, looking embarrassed. She hesitated, then began again, "There are others who. . .who use magic in a different way than we do."

Harry laughed. The sound of it was bitter and angry and everyone except the newcomer flinched at the sound of it. The man looked carefully at Harry, clearly noting the reaction, and Harry met that gaze for a moment before turning on McGonagall and snapping, "So muggles aren't just muggles? We could have asked for help and you didn't think it would be a good idea to tell us about the possibility?"

"Harry, it's not that simple." McGonagall sounded apologetic, but firm. "It isn't their fight."

"Like hell it's not, lady!" The man snapped, taking two steps forward and confronting the headmistress. "This is our world too!" McGonagall opened her mouth again, but the man hadn't finished: "And don't give me any crap about a treaty! The world is at stake here, and we could have helped, damn it! I'm not saying we would have said 'Yay, a new apocalypse!', but we've saved the world enough times that we're pretty much the go to guys for dealing with that kind of thing! Some wizard with a stupid name and a little wand doesn't even rate as a contender for biggest problem of the year as far as we're concerned!"

Harry stared at the man in wonder. He means it. There was a whole group of people who deal with magical dangers to the world, and we ignored them and blew them up along with Voldemort. We need to do something about this. Harry began to open his mouth, wanting to reach this man who had so unexpectedly upset their applecart, when he was interrupted.

" A little wand, huh! I'll show you what a wand can do, boy!" The voice of Mad-Eye Moody boomed out, causing the others to turn in surprise and Harry to wince. Oh Merlin, this is not a good time for one of your paranoid outbursts, Mad-Eye! Moody had has wand out and was leveling it at the stranger as he began to utter a familiar and dangerous curse: "Imperi-"

The man moved so quickly that Harry thought at first that he had somehow apparated. The Imperius Curse only hit air as the man ducked under the spell and tackled Moody, sending the two of them tumbling to the ground. Moody put up a good struggle, but youth prevailed, and the man managed to grab Moody's wand and snap it as the older man gasped in helpless outrage. The man got to his feet, tossed the pieces of the wand to the ground, and glared at the group again as he screamed, "I've had it with you people—bring back the magic, NOW!"

They all looked at him in shocked silence for what seemed like forever to Harry before Remus managed to say in a frighteningly normal and soothing tone: "If we bring the magic back, people will die."

"People die every day, man—that's pretty much a part of the whole human condition thing, you know?" The man shook his head in frustration and continued, "If the crazy wizard doesn't get them, a car will. If a vampire doesn't drain them dry, they might drink themselves to death or put a bullet in their brain five years from now. Demons kill people. . .but so do brain aneurysms. We all die sooner or later—that's no reason to give up, damn it!"

"You're a cold one, aren't you?" Ron snapped, fed up with being yelled at by some muggle who thought he had all the answers. "You're not the one who's been watching his friends die for years now."

"I've been watching them slowly dying for a day now—and I've been burying them for almost ten years now, kid." The man looked at Ron wearily. "Don't tell me I don't know what it's like."

"But they're not dying!" Hermione protested. Harry could hear a hint of desperation in her voice, as if she was trying to convince herself along with the stranger. "This world will merge with another one when the magic has left—and everyone will merge with their counterparts on that world. We'll all be safe."

The man just looked at her and whispered, "Are you sure?" Hermione nodded emphatically, and the man pressed, "So. . .the two ensouled vampires in there who are both on the far side of one hundred and thirty will have a counterpart in that new world? How about the girl who was created by magic to hide a magical Key? Or the God-King living in the body of a woman whose soul was destroyed years ago? Will they have a place there?"

Hermione blinked, began to open her mouth, then stopped and looked down as she whispered, "They'll end up somewhere—maybe not the same world, but somewhere. I'm sorry, I know the theory but the specifics. . .there's no way to know for sure in advance."

"That's the problem with doing things based on a theory—that first step is a doozy." The man looked back at Harry and asked bluntly, "How do we know that this new world will be better than this one—hell, how do we know that it will be worth having period?"

Harry knew that he couldn't let himself be intimidated—he had to do his best to justify his decision even in the face of his own growing doubts about it. He looked back at the man and replied with the most direct justification he could imagine at that moment: "When he's gone, the nightmares go with him."

"Maybe, but you're sending the fairy tales away with him too." The man's response caused a few bitter laughs from the others, but he shook his head at the response without visible anger and continued, "Yeah, maybe that doesn't seem like so much to you, and sometimes it doesn't to me, either—but the people in that house have been fighting for years to let other people have the chance to dream, and live, and love—and I've been proud to fight with them. You may kill your personal demon by doing this, but you're also throwing away a lot of good with him—and you're doing away with some people who'd be willing to fight the good fight with you against him, if you'd just bothered to ask us."

"What do you want us to do?" Harry whispered, seeing that the man was exhausted and at the end of his wits.

"Just stop this." The man looked back at Harry and spoke urgently. "Whatever you've done, whatever it takes to stop this—just make it end. Let us help you deal with this problem. Killing magic is no way to stop it from being murdered."

Harry was speechless, and the others were silent as well. The man slumped, defeated, and he turned away, calling out, "Merry Christmas—and I hope you enjoy that new world, because I'm going to miss this one." He disappeared into the darkness, and after a few moments they heard a door slamming shut above them.

Harry was silent for a few more seconds, then turned to Hermione and began: "Hermione, how long-"

"Eleven hours, twenty minutes. I have all of the materials we need, along with the ritual language. We can rent one of the rooms at that inn we ate at and complete matters within three hours." Hermione's response caused Harry's jaw to drop, and she laughed, sounding simultaneously frazzled and relieved. "Oh please—like I can't read your expressions by now. .. and as if I wouldn't have been prepared for a last minute change of plan."

Harry smiled at Hermione, and turned back to the others. He met their gazes one by one, and though he saw various emotions in their eyes, he also saw assent to the new course he had arrived at. He nodded once and turned around, beginning the walk back to the inn.

"My Lord, are you all right?"

Voldemort's eyes snapped open. Severus Snape was standing outside the ritual circle—which was no longer outlined by the translucent hemisphere—and looking at him. Nagini remained coiled around him and appeared to be sleeping. His last memory was of casting sleeping charms on himself and Nagini to ease the transition to the new world—clearly, something significant had happened. He looked at his potions master and asked, "How long has it been since I spoke to you last, Severus?"

"About fifty-one hours, my Lord." Snape replied, keeping his tone formal. "I gave myself a slightly lesser dose than the others, so that you might have assistance if needed before the others awakened. I hope you will forgive my presumption in using an unlocking charm to gain entrance—I presumed that you would have used something more robust than a bolt if you had wished to bar my entry."

Voldemort inclined his head at Snape to indicate that he wasn't angry, and took a moment to use a Summoning Charm on a nearby book to get a feel for the amount of magic in the environment. The book sailed into his hand with the normal force he would expect, and he stared at it in disbelief. He backed down. . .but what made him do it? He considered that the boy might have simply lost his nerve, but dismissed the thought immediately. Something happened to change his mind. . .something gave him hope of victory without having to end magic here. I need to find out what it was before I press on.

Oblivious to the turmoil in his master's thoughts, Snape looked at Voldemort apologetically and commented, "The others should start waking up in about fifteen minutes, my Lord—what are your orders?"

Voldemort was silent for a moment before he directed his gaze at Snape and replied, "Let them have a few hours to recover, then order them to assemble in my audience chamber. We are going to withdraw for some time to see how the fools at the Ministry and at Hogwarts react—we have drastically diminished their resources and terrified the general population. I want them to be wondering what we are up to for some time."

If he was puzzled by the order, Snape gave no sign of it as he bowed and left the ritual chamber. Voldemort gave a mental command to Nagini—who slithered off to a quiet corner to continue its nap—and sat down, still thinking about what to do next.

What are you up to, Potter?

Harry knocked on the front door of the estate house and waited for someone to come to the door.

The reversal ritual had been anti-climactic after everything that had happened, and they had all apparated back to Hogsmeade ready for a fight—but the Death Eaters had stayed gone, and they quickly started fortifying the town against renewed attack. A quick check determined that the siege of the Ministry of Magic had been lifted as well, and Tonks was quickly detailed to head there and try to help the forces there regroup. It took most of a day to contact all of the Order members who had been cut off from contact, and Harry was relieved that casualties had been few among them. Another day had seen everyone briefed—with relief at the reversal of the ritual being the order of the day—and ready to continue to press their temporary advantage. It was as part of that effort that Harry now stood on the doorstep of the estate house, at the head of a rather eclectic delegation.

The front door opened, and a girl—no more than sixteen—looked out and blinked at the sight in front of her. After a moment, she managed to squeak, "Can I help you, sir?"

Harry smiled and replied, "We're here to see a man I met the other night. Tall, dark hair. . .has an eyepatch? It's very important that I speak to him."

The girl smiled nervously and closed the door. After about a minute the door opened, and the young man who had so upended their world only a few days before stared at the group in front of the door. The wizards and witches he had seen the other night had been joined by the rest of the Order of the Phoenix, Hagrid's brother Grawp, Firenze, and Dobby and several other house elves from Hogwarts. All of them were looking directly at the young man, and he clearly didn't know how to react. Harry decided to rescue him: he extended his hand and said simply, "Harry Potter."

The man stared for a moment longer, then shook the offered hand and replied, "Xander Harris."

Hermione nudged Harry, and Harry coughed nervously and said simply, "You said you could help."

Xander looked out at the crowd on the porch, then back at Harry. "I don't know about how much help I'll be-" Harry felt a chill of fear, and he was immensely relieved when Xander added, "But I've got a lot of friends in there who should be a big help."

"So—are you going to invite us in or not?" Ron demanded, still not thrilled with the way things had gone.

"Don't be rude, Ron." Hermione interjected, looking at her friend in annoyance before turning to Xander and adding, "Inviting us in could be dangerous if one or more of us was a disguised vampire or one of several other kinds of demons."

Xander smiled and commented, "You seem to know your stuff, Miss. . .?"

"Oh, I'm Hermione Granger." Hermione colored slightly at the attention from the older man, and Ron glared in mild annoyance as she added, "He's Ron Weasley—we can conclude the other introductions inside."

Xander nodded solemnly, then gave ground, walking away from the door. After a moment, Harry followed him, and Hermione and Ron quickly joined him as the others trailed behind them. They entered the dining room, and Harry saw dozens of girls and young women sitting at the main table along with a few men of varying ages—and everyone was looking at the newcomers with what looked like open shock. Harry heard Xander cough once, then announce: "Merry Christmas, guys. I hope you don't mind, but I invited some new friends."

EPILOGUE

"So this is the new office?" Xander looked around, admiring the quality of the woodwork on the walls, and looked back at Harry. "Kind of. . .big, isn't it?"

Harry groaned and sat down on one of the overstuffed sofas in the office. Xander chose the armchair across from where Harry sat, and grinned openly at his friend's obvious annoyance. Harry glared at Xander for a moment, then muttered, "I was fine in my old office; sure, it was small, but I knew where everything was and I'm only here two or three days a month anyway!"

After Voldemort had been defeated and Harry had completed his time at Hogwarts with multiple honors in his NEWT exams, he had followed his original plans and applied to train as an Auror. His old friend Kingsley Shacklebolt—who had survived the war and was now the head of Magical Law Enforcement—had hemmed and hawed for a while before coming out with it: "Harry—if anything, you're obscenely overqualified to be an Auror. All the training will do is serve as a refresher course and fill you in on the bureaucracy. That being said, if I send you out in the field and some bastard of an ex-Death Eater gets lucky and kills you, I'll be sacked five minutes later and the Minister of Magic will be sacked not long after that." Harry had bristled, and Kingsley added quickly, "If it was just my job and I thought the situation was best for you, I'd risk it in a minute, Harry—but Scrimgeour isn't going to stick his neck out to put you at risk, so that's a moot point." Harry nodded reluctantly in agreement, and Kingsley had smiled at him and asked bluntly, "Besides, Harry—haven't you been in mortal peril on a daily basis enough in your life? I've got a position for you that will let you keep in training, keep an eye on things here at the Ministry, and be very useful to us all without getting your arse killed: want to hear about it?"

The title of the job in question was "Consultant at Large," and Harry accepted it for the magnificent salary of one galleon a year. For an average of about five days a month, he would come in and audit training sessions with the Aurors—making suggestions where he saw fit—stopped in on department heads with the Ministry and provided an ear for suggestions they had, and—rarely-did a bit of necessary paperwork; therefore, the need for an office. Fortunately, after he had been forcefully moved away from the Auror path he had pursued his real love—flying-and signed a contract with the Chudley Cannons—much to Ron's delight—that guaranteed that he wouldn't be idle when the Ministry wasn't in need of his services.

Harry glared at the walls of the office and elaborated, "Scrimgeour insisted on moving me into this barn—said that foreign dignitaries might want to look in on me and that the old office wasn't fit for the purpose. Bloody old meddler."

Xander looked at the beautiful oak desk, then at the full bar sitting over in a corner of the office. "Yes, it's clear that he's torturing you. Should I owl Buffy and Willow to break you out?"

"You're one to talk," grumbled Harry, "How many times at dinner have I had to listen to you complain about being dragged to fundraisers by either the Ministry or the Council? I seem to recall a comment about rubber chicken being made from demon parts."

Xander was about to retort when a teasing voice came from the open doorway: "So this is what the Ministry's most revered consultant and the Ambassador to the Council do on the public's knut."

Harry turned and saw Hermione smirking at him. He snorted and commented, "Apparently, the Ministry's Head Researcher has time to burn, too—how may I help you, madam?"

"I find myself in need of lunch and heard a rumor that you were in the building—I thought I might confirm the rumor and get lunch at the same time." Hermione replied, still smirking. "How about it?"

"You two have fun—I've got a dispute between three Slayers and a merchant in Knockturn Alley to settle. . .yay me." Xander sighed and headed for the door, adding "Eat something healthier than demon rubber chicken."

Xander had reached the door when Hermione called out, "Aren't you forgetting something, Xander?"

Xander seemed to think for a moment, then moved quickly, capturing Hermione in his arms and kissing her with energy. After a moment, he released her, enjoying the unfocused look in her eyes as he added, "Let's see. . .three pounds of sirloin, four pounds of potatoes, and floo Molly for that recipe you needed, right?" Hermione managed a distracted nod, and Xander nodded to Harry in leave-taking as he concluded, "See you back home, honey" and departed.

Hermione blinked, then turned back to where Harry was shaking his head in disbelief. She raised an eyebrow and asked, "You have something to say, Potter?"

"After all this time, I really still can't believe you married him." Hermione began to scowl at Harry's comment, and Harry grinned and elaborated, "You know I think the world of him. . .but I still don't see how you two-"

"Life is full of little mysteries, Harry—and I'm not about to question one that got me a man who kisses like that." Hermione replied quietly, her eyes moving away from Harry and onto a rather expensive painting hanging on the office wall. She sighed, then added, "I'm not the first smart woman who fell for him—or vice versa."

Harry laughed. "How long was Willow's hair pink after she told the Fluke story at the New Year's party two years ago?"

Hermione flushed, then muttered, "Well. . .there's a reason I stay away from Firewhiskey." She coughed self-consciously, then changed the subject: "Speaking of odd couples—are Ron and Dawn going to be making it to the party next month? He always likes hanging out with your teammates when they're around."

"As far as I know—that expedition to Outer Mongolia is scheduled to come back about a week beforehand. Ron will be champing at the bit for Quidditch news by then, I'd guess." Harry shook his head and smiled. When the Ministry had established a formal alliance with the Council, one of the job opportunities that had opened up was for wizards and witches who wanted to assist the Council directly where routine wand-work would make the jobs of the Slayers easier and safer. Ron had been one of the first volunteers, and it hadn't been long before he caught the eye of the younger Summers sister—who was in training as a Watcher and to be the head archaeologist for the Council. They hadn't married yet—much to Molly's dismay—but the betting among both their circles of friends as to when they would was intense. Harry chuckled at the thought, then stood up. "Come on—lunch sounds good right now."

They left the office and walked down the hallway towards the front entrance, nodding to people as they walked by. As they were approaching the entrance, a familiar face came into view, and Harry smiled and called out, "Hello, Luna—how are things in the Department of Mysteries?"

"Mysterious." Luna replied. It had become a running joke with them, as there were things that Luna dealt with in her work as an Unspeakable that even Harry and Hermione didn't have clearance to know about. Harry laughed, and Luna added, "Hello, Hermione."

"Hello, Luna." Hermione replied quietly. Even after many years of friendship, Hermione wasn't always comfortable with the younger woman—their outlooks on life were very different. "We're going to lunch—would you like to join us?"

"I've already eaten, but I'd be glad to walk with you until you arrive there." Luna said quietly—she knew that the restaurant that her two friends favored was within walking distance. They walked to the entrance, removed their robes to reveal their street clothes, then headed outside. After a few moments, Luna turned to Harry and commented, "I'd heard you were in the building, Harry—did Xander come to see you?"

"Yes—he came and visited me in that awful new barn of an office the Minister stuck me with." The two witches laughed at Harry's annoyance, and he pointedly glared at them for a moment before asking, "Why do you ask? Is something going on with Xander that neither of us knows about?"

Luna smiled, and something about that smile made both Harry and Hermione shiver slightly. The Unspeakable noticed the reaction and replied, "Nothing going on right now, anyway. Do either of you ever think about the circumstances that caused us to meet Xander where and when we did?"

Harry shuddered. "I try not to—when I think about that ritual and what it would have done if we hadn't reversed it-"

Luna shook her head. "That's not what I mean, Harry. We all agreed it was the right thing to do-"

"If I recall correctly, you had doubts, Luna." Hermione interjected, looking at her friend as she remembered the long-ago events. "You told us that it wouldn't solve the problem."

"Yes, but I didn't know why—and I still believed it was necessary. Intuition—magical or not—can be rather frustrating as far as providing a 'why' when you want one." After years of intense training, Luna was far more focused than she once had been, though her thought processes were still far from conventional. She sighed and added, "It wasn't until it was all over that I started really thinking about what had happened. What are the chances that we would randomly run into literally the only person in the world who was capable of telling us we were wrong and offering us an alternative to the destruction of magic, given the distances and time period involved?"

Harry blinked at the question; somehow, he had never thought about it before: there had been too much going on for the entire period after the ritual was reversed and leading up to the final defeat of Voldemort to worry much about the "how" of their new allies. As he pondered the question, Hermione provided the obvious answer: "You'd have a better chance to win the Irish Sweepstakes than for that to happen. Even without a Muggle higher education, I know math well enough to realize that. . .so why didn't that ever occur to me before?"

"We were rather busy at the time, for one thing." Luna commented, causing her friends to laugh as she continued, "But I suspect there was more to it. . .our decision to leave Hogwarts and explore, for example. We really couldn't hope to accomplish much by going outside, and there was even an outside chance that Voldemort could have found us in that time and tried to force us to reverse the ritual—why didn't we just stay put?"

Harry and Hermione looked at each other with vaguely puzzled expressions, and Harry inclined his head towards a park nearby with some convenient benches. They sat down, and Harry voiced the thoughts that both he and Hermione were having: "It just seemed the right thing to do. . .I proposed it, and no one questioned the wisdom of it. Someone probably should have—but no one did. Why?"

"Something had other plans for us." Luna spoke solemnly, and both Harry and Hermione were completely focused on her as she continued, "Something influenced us subtly while we were distracted to get us moving—to let us see some of the side effects of what we were doing—and to lead us to the one person who was still capable of urging us to stop while we still could. It worked."

"Who could have done that? Every magically aware being except for us on Earth was disabled once the ritual was concluded." Hermione spoke urgently, trying to grasp what Luna was saying and seeing the obvious objections. "Who was capable of doing what you say was done?"

Luna smiled. "Magic itself did it. It's the only reasonable answer."

"You call that a reasonable answer?" Hermione's tone was incredulous, and Harry's reaction—while silent and therefore far more polite—was about the same. "You're saying that magic itself has a consciousness and the power to manipulate our minds to induce us to do things we otherwise wouldn't?" Luna nodded, and Hermione asked, "Why wouldn't we have known this before? Why wouldn't magic have made itself known to us?"

Harry sighed—that part actually would make sense. He turned to Hermione and commented, "If it became known that magic itself had a consciousness, wouldn't dark wizards start trying to control that consciousness to control magic itself? They'd probably fail, but they'd probably do a lot of damage while they were doing so." Hermione nodded reluctantly in agreement, and Harry turned to Luna and said, "All right—suppose magic does have a consciousness and could have influenced us: why wouldn't it just influence us not to perform the ritual in the first place? We weren't happy about doing it—it wouldn't have taken much to push us into another decision."

Luna shrugged. "Perhaps it couldn't—maybe it influenced us as much as it could and no more. Perhaps when we cast the ritual and temporarily trapped our own magic inside ourselves it left us open to influence more than usual. Perhaps it acted in a way that made it most likely to eliminate a possible threat to its existence and freedom in Voldemort—which caused it to risk the casting of the ritual. The only one who could tell us would be magic itself, and it's not going to: any concrete proof of its existence could fall into the wrong hands someday—but I'm convinced that for whatever reasons it did. I'm not going to tell my superiors about this theory—I don't trust them that much—but I had to tell someone, and you're among the few who know enough about what happened to be able to see what I'm talking about."

Harry and Hermione sat, pondering the gravity of what they had just heard. After a few moments Harry sighed and commented, "It's lucky that Xander was close enough for us to reach even with magic pushing us along."

Luna laughed. "You think that was luck, do you?" Harry and Hermione looked at Luna in confusion, and the Unspeakable smiled at them and said, "Alexander Harris has spent virtually his whole life within a stone's throw of some of the mightiest concentrations of magic in this world. He's spent over a decade fighting at the side of beings who could end him with less effort than it's taking me to utter these words. Do you really think it was an accident that he was in the right place at the right time to offer a solution to the crisis that Magic and the World itself were facing?"

"What are you suggesting, Luna?" Harry was puzzled at Luna's words. "What could it have been but an accident?"

"For thousands of years, civilizations have chosen champions in times of need to serve where the standard measures weren't good enough." Luna spoke quietly, looking out at the pond in the center of the park as she continued, "They were chosen for being stronger, faster, more skilled, or more powerful than the others considered for the purpose. I think that magic knew that it would need someone to be its champion one day when it was in dire need—and it picked the best person possible for the job."

"Xander?" Hermione whispered. Luna nodded, and Hermione stared at her in disbelief and asked, "How could that be? Xander's smart, and he's brave, and he'll do anything for a friend. . .but he's the least magical human being I've ever met. He's so non-magical he makes some of the magical tools we have at the house malfunction—and when I tried to surprise him by fitting him for an eye like Alastor had. . ." She looked down in sadness, both from the memory of Mad-Eye's death in the war and the disappointment at the failure of her gift to her husband.

"Exactly." Luna replied, reaching out and giving Hermione's shoulder a comforting squeeze as she spoke. Hermione looked up, and Luna smiled and continued, "In a moment where magic itself is helpless—who better to serve as a champion than someone with no magic whatsoever, who fights with his mind and his heart and his loyalty with every last shred of energy in his body? Magic could not have found a better champion that the one we faced that day—and he prevailed." She stood up and said quietly, "I should let you two get to lunch."

"Does he know, Luna?" The question came from Harry, who was still processing what he had heard. "Does he have any idea about any of this?"

"Probably not, and we shouldn't tell him, Harry." Luna whispered, looking back out at the pond. "It would probably be a hard thing to know one had a duty like that placed upon you, without asking first or even telling him that it was his charge. We couldn't advise him, as magic keeps its own counsel and will not aid us in the advising. What we can do is to appreciate what he does—and say a prayer for him now and again. It's not much, but it's something."

Luna nodded to Harry and Hermione and departed, and they sat there for long minutes, looking out at the pond and saying their quiet thank-yous to the Champion of Magic.

As always, comments are acceptable and wanted.