Disclaimer: No safety or surprise, the end.

XX

The Minister of Magic tried to smile when he was ushered into the Prime Minister's office. "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, sir," the Minister of Magic said respectfully.

"Relax, Nigel," the PM said with a wide grin. "Have a seat."

"Thank you, sir."

"What have the wizards done now?" the Prime Minister asked. "Not another so-called Dark Lord is it?"

"They've made me the Minister of Magic, sir," Nigel said stiffly.

"I know. You told me, remember? Something about an economic crisis?"

"Yes, sir, I've handled that. They made the appointment to serve a full term mandatory after they heard I was planning to resign in order to resume my duties in the normal government."

"I see." The Prime Minister nodded his head. "I can't say I'm not sorry to see you go, on the other hand I also can't say I'm sorry they finally grew some sense and picked someone competent for a change. Congratulations, Nigel, they couldn't have picked a better man."

"Thank you, sir."

IIIIIIIIII

Harry's excitement level rose with each day closer to Dumbledore's retirement party. It wasn't every day you got to kill a Death Eater that had been knocked off by the other side the first time around. That alone would have been enough, but when coupled with the fact that it was the last of the bunch? Harry could hardly contain himself.

IIIIIIIIII

Igor Karkaroff knew he was a marked man, both literally and figuratively. The brand on his arm, something that had once promised wealth and fame, had turned into a death sentence. It was the second time the cursed thing had put his life in danger. He had a feeling the creature after him wasn't as interested in obtaining names as the British Ministry had been which closed one avenue to safety. The man let out a heavy sigh, even if that had not been the case, the fact was that he had no names to give. Not even the ones he'd held back, the thing had gotten them all.

In the years since the Dark Lord's fall, he'd rarely left the confines of his school. Its wards were things of beauty: strong enough to survive a siege by the mightiest army, and subtle enough to detect the most stealthy assassin. They'd kept him safe, first from the Dark Lord's followers and then from the so-called Slytherin Curse.

But for Dumbledore's cursed retirement, he'd have stayed in his school till his hopefully long delayed death. Damn the man and damn the government for requiring his presence! Wouldn't be right not to represent the school, they'd said, you're fired if you refuse, they'd added. Didn't they know they were sending him out to his death? Didn't they know what was waiting outside the wards?

No, he couldn't think like that. Igor refused to let himself be overwhelmed by despair. He would prepare himself, he would face the creature that had ended so many of his fellow Death Eaters, and he would overcome it. Or, ideally, he'd scurry back to his castle and raise the wards till he felt safe again. The students would just have to delay vacations and graduation for a decade or two.

IIIIIIIIII

A grin blossomed on Arthur's face when a serious-looking Percy delivered the latest numbers. The boy had begged and been granted special permission to take a bit of time from school and his duties as a Prefect to help his father set up the new bank.

"How do they look?" he asked the boy.

"If our estimates are correct, we have a bit less than half the gold that was taken out of Gringotts. The rest of it remains with the gnomes in Switzerland."

"Which is fine since we've got the beginnings of a good relationship with them and because we still attracted more than we expected to. I'd have been happy if we got a quarter of this. After all it's only been a week, son."

"I understand, father, it's just . . ."

"Hard to believe it's actually happening?" Arthur suggested.

"Yes," Percy agreed.

"Have a seat, son," Arthur said gently. "We have something we need to talk about."

"You want me to go back to Hogwarts," Percy said.

"It's not because you're not useful here," Arthur said quickly.

"It's because I can't succeed here without a proper education," Percy replied. "I understand, father, I wasn't planning to stay much longer. I don't want my studies to suffer either."

"Good," Arthur sighed in relief. "I was afraid you'd take it the wrong way."

"I understand how important it is to get a good education, father," Percy assured the man.

"I also need you to do something for me while you're in school."

"Yes, father?"

"Keep an eye out for anyone that's good with numbers, preferably muggle-born," Arthur said.

"Muggle-born?"

"I spoke with the new Minister. He learned everything he knows about money from Muggle schools. He was able to use that knowledge to solve the worst financial crisis the wizarding world has experienced in six centuries."

"Not to mention the fact that muggle-born employees would make it easier to do business with muggle banks," Percy thought aloud.

"You're right." Arthur favored his son with a wide grin. "Having some ties with muggle banks is something we can't afford not to have."

Percy felt a warm feeling in his stomach as his father's words sunk in. He couldn't wait to graduate and start working in the bank to make his family great again.

IIIIIIIIII

Harry had a giant smile on his face when he joined the girls that morning. Plans were in motion to remove the last remaining tint of the Death Eater stain on the wizarding world, and he planned to do so... colorfully.

"What's got you so cheerful?" Hermione asked.

"Karkaroff has left Bulgaria and is on his way to Hogwarts," Harry replied. For some reason, the man was taking an oddly circuitous route and abstaining from using portkeys.

"Pity he's not going to get here," Susan giggled.

"Oh, he'll get here," Harry replied. "He'll sit through the ceremony, he'll get back to Bulgaria, he'll think he's safe, and then he'll find the little surprise I arranged for him." It would then take the man a minimum of four days to die.

"That's nice, Harry," Hermione said. She turned to Luna. "How's the construction going?"

"Crews finished and obliviated," the little blonde replied. "We can move in at any time."

IIIIIIIIII

Igor ducked into the translation bathroom in Paris and spent several minutes changing his appearance without magic. His next train would take him to Germany where he was planning to change his appearance again and get on a bus then another change and another train.

IIIIIIIIII

The Minister didn't see his secretary when he came in the next morning. A quick conversation with the head of his security detail revealed why.

"For god's sake, why in the word is she in one of the detention cells?" he demanded.

"She insisted upon it, sir," the Auror said nervously. "Said she deserved no less than The Kiss for betraying your confidence. Um, the gaolers put a cot in the break room and managed to convince her to use it rather than one of the filthy cold leaky cells we keep to scare first time offenders."

The Minister pinched the bridge of his nose. "Go down there, tell her she's been pardoned, and get her back to work. Tell her I'm lost without her and that I've been at my wit's end all day. She says the country can't live without me? Tell her I can't do my job without her!"

"I'll tell her you've been skipping meals too, sir," the Auror said with a grin. "She'll be up here mother henning you in no time at all, sir."

IIIIIIIIII

The guests for Dumbledore's retirement began trickling in a couple days before the event. Most chose to take rooms in Hogsmead or at the Leaky Cauldron, others stayed with friends. Only one ended up being difficult.

"Say that again," Minerva ordered.

"I'm going to need one of the lower level vaults," Igor stated firmly, taking a sip from the flask he carried on himself at all times and only refilled with a personally cast Aquamenti.

"Igor, you must understand that-"

"The invitation stated that both the Ministry and Hogwarts would aid in finding accommodation, I am requesting that aid," he interrupted. "Furthermore, I wish to check the vault and want you to transfigure the door into solid stone or transfigure a solid stone sheet over the door after swearing on your magic that you are not attempting to murder me." He'd do something else on the inside.

"Fine, I'll have the elves-"

"No elves!" he bellowed.

"Shall we be going?" she asked sweetly, thinking that walling him into a vault was looking more and more pleasant by the second.

IIIIIIIIII

The Minister arrived early the next morning, hoping to get a bit of work in before he had to attend Dumbledore's retirement party. That wish went unfulfilled as his secretary insisted he eat a balanced breakfast and had spent the remainder of the time fussing over his appearance to make sure he looked his best.

It would have been infuriating if the young woman weren't so honest and endearing, the Minister reflected to himself. Perhaps he could find some position to promote her into so he could get a bit of peace in his life again. There had to be an opening somewhere to keep the woman occupied with things other than his general welfare, hadn't there?

IIIIIIIIII

Igor spent the night in the center of the bare, windowless vault devoid of even a mattress to cushion the hard stone floor. He slept with the wards up, wand in hand, ready to defend his life the instant a hidden attacker should strike.

He woke up early and took three hours to get ready. The time was spent layering dozens of protective charms on his underwear before donning dragon skin armor under specially modified battle robes. Casting a bubblehead charm to protect against any airborne contaminants after swallowing a bezoar. Three hours of taking every precaution he could think of and praying with all his might that it would be sufficient.

IIIIIIIIII

Minerva spent most of the next morning making sure everything was ready for Dumbledore's retirement ceremony. Most of it wasn't too taxing, not compared to getting the castle ready for an influx of students anyway. Really, there was only one thing on her list she wished fervently that she could pass on to some other unfortunate, perhaps Sirius Black to drive home just how annoyed she was with him?

The old woman sighed, pulling herself from pleasant thoughts as she stood before a blank section of wall and prepared to deal with the most trying guest to the reception. A flick of her wand caused the stones to retreat, revealing a thick iron reenforced oak door and another caused the door to reverberate with the sound of a knock.

"WHO IS IT?!" Igor's shrill voice demanded.

"It is Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts here to take you to the ceremony per your request," she replied, wondering not for the first time if it wouldn't have been easier just to leave the door bricked over and to forget the vault and the man in it had ever existed.

"How do I know you're really you?"

"I'm sure that I don't care," Minerva stated, mustering up as much calm as she could. "You may either come out or I can replace the bricks over the door and leave you where you are till it's convenient to let you out." The old woman felt a spike of hope when there was no response for a few moments and a stronger spike of disappointment when the door cracked open to reveal her colleague peaking out suspiciously.

"You look like Minerva," Igor allowed, suspicion dripping from every word. "How do I know you're not using polyjuice?"

"Another issue I lack the ability to care about," Minerva said blandly. "Are you coming out or should I re-brick the door?"

"I'm coming out," Igor said grudgingly.

"Come this way," Minerva said, leading the man down the halls.

The Headmaster of Durmstrang followed, being mindful to keep the woman between him and any windows or other sources of danger.

"We have you up on the stage next to-" Minerva continued once they'd emerged from the castle and were approaching the crowd at the Quidditch pitch.

"NO!" Igor bellowed. "I insist on being put in the crowd." He selected two dice from the handful he had in his pocket and rolled it a couple of times, then two coins from the next pocket, and flipped them to select which group of numbers to use, hoping to achieve safety through unpredictability. "Give me seat two seven four." The board had ordered him to attend this death trap, they had not required him to participate.

"That's where the students are-"

"A headmaster's proper place is with the students he oversees," Igor interrupted. "I refuse to sit anywhere else!" With any luck, being surrounded by the little bastards would provide another layer of protection.

"Fine," Minerva sighed. She couldn't wait till the damn ceremony was over and idiots like the one before her were no longer infesting her castle.

IIIIIIIIII

Neville got up the next morning and was met at the entrance to Gryffindor Tower by a large number of his Slytherin friends.

"Your tie is crooked," Sandy, a fourth year said helpfully, elbowing two other girls out of the way so she could fix it herself.

"Thanks," Neville said, giving the girl his biggest smile and thinking how lucky he'd been since coming to Hogwarts.

They went down to the Great Hall and had a nice leisurely breakfast followed by a bit of spell practice in an old teacher's lounge the girls had claimed.

"You really are getting better at this, Neville," Marylyn, a fifth year, squealed. The girl wrapped her arms around him and gave him a big wet kiss on the cheek. "Keep up this rate of improvement and you'll be the top student in your year in no time."

"Don't think I could beat the first year Slytherins no matter how much I practiced," Neville said with a faint blush.

"They don't count," one of the other girls replied.

"I heard they already passed their NEWTs," another added.

"It's true," Sandy, the fourth year, said. "My uncle works at the Ministry Hall of Records and he told me."

"See," Marylyn purred. "You've got nothing to worry about. The top place is yours for the taking."

After a bit more practice, the group arrived at the Quidditch pitch to take their seats to watch the retirement of the man many called the greatest wizard of their age.

"Neville, someone's in your seat!" Marylyn complained. It had taken more than a little bit of blackmail, scheming, and intimidation to score the one next to the boy who'd rid the world of Snape. There was no way she was going to let all that go to waste.

"Who took it?" Neville asked, gratefully accepting a platter of food one of the other girls had gotten from the buffet line.

"I made sure to get all your favorites, Neville," the girl, a second year, said with a bright red blush. "I hope you like it.

"It looks good, Sarah," Neville said happily. "Thank you." He turned back to the older girl.

"Some strange looking man," Marylyn stated with a curled lip.

"Maybe we could ask him to move?" Neville suggested. "I'm sure he'd understand if we explained that we reserved the places so we could all sit together."

"That-" A thought struck like lighting. There was a way she could turn this situation to her advantage. "Is a great idea, Neville, but I think I've got a better solution. He looks like he really wants to sit there and I'd feel bad about making him move."

"What's your idea?"

"You can sit in my lap," the girl explained. "That way everybody wins." Especially me!

"Okay," Neville agreed.

IIIIIIIIII

Igor immediately switched out the chair with one he'd transfigured on the spot to replace it, then spent fifteen minutes putting up the strongest set of wards around his spot that he could. A quick check of the names on the reservation cards stuck to the empty chairs revealed nothing obvious so Igor then examined the children taking their seats around him. Mostly girls, he noted, all except for the tubby stupid looking one seated on his left which was sitting on some tart's lap for some, no doubt doltish, reason.

"Hi," the little bastard said with an idiotic grin. "I'm Neville."

"Do not presume-" Igor froze, pupils shrinking to pinpoints. "What is your family name?" he asked harshly. 'It couldn't be,' he thought desperately. 'There was no way the little monster could have predicted where he'd be, it wasn't possible! It couldn't be possible!'

"Longbottom," Neville replied, still trying to act friendly despite the man's lack of manners.

'It was him!' Igor thought fearfully. The-Boy-Who-Had-Done-The-Impossible-and-Killed-Severus-Snape. A boy, eleven years old, who killed the greatest potions master of Igor's generation, with a POTION! The man began to hyperventilate.

Igor nervously double checked his bubblehead charm and anti-poison ward (stitched into his robes, on the inside with an impervious charm for good measure), as he tried to think of a way to escape the Longbottom assassin.

"You should try the shrimp, it's quite good," Neville suggested in an attempt at small talk.

'He KNOWS!' Igor screamed in his own head. 'How did he know I was allergic to seafood? Mustn't let him get to me.'

"Do you want some water?" Neville asked the silent man innocently. One of the surrounding tarts held up the pitcher for the man to see.

'Must be poisoned,' Igor said in an internal panic. 'No, no, he's much too crafty for that. He's trying to make me nervous.'

"No," Igor said aloud, voice quivering a bit. "I'm fine with my flask."

"Okay, just ask if you want some," Neville said as he started in on the grilled Sherbert Lemon encrusted giant shrimp. "Wow, this is *really* good shrimp!"

Karkaroff could hear his heart pounding in his chest like a 20 heavy metal drum solo. Neville looked up and caught the man's gaze for a moment as the boy took another bite of shrimp.

"Are you okay? You're looking a little pale," Neville commented with a concerned look.

'No! He already got me! How? I was-'

"URGK!" Igor said, clutching his chest as the stress caused his heart to give out, seemingly frozen for a split second before slipping off his chair and onto the ground.

"I don't think he's faking it," Neville's seat said helpfully. Not that she cared, but she figured she owed the man who'd been responsible for her current seating arrangement.

The Healers were on the scene within minutes and, had they been able to breach the wards or had the wards not been up,would have had no trouble saving the man. As it was, the students were forced to watch as the Headmaster of Durmstrang slowly expired in front of them.

IIIIIIIIII

Harry watched in Horrified shock as the Healers tried and failed to revive the world's last Death Eater after the Aurors finally managed to bring down the wards. 'The evil son of a bitch had to survive,' Harry thought desperately. Harry felt like crying when the lead healer shook her head and stood up, prompting the rest to do the same. Harry wanted to scream, to bargain,to beg them to keep trying. He couldn't admit to himself that the man was dead. 'He can't die here, not like this, not if I'm not the one responsible. Neville can't do this to me again!'

"It's not the end of the world, Harry," Susan tried to console the boy. "There are still loads of bad guys you can go after."

"Yeah," Luna agreed. "Not like the United Kingdom's the only place that breeds Dark Wizards."

"It's just . . . just not the same," Harry mumbled, looking almost as depressed as he was feeling. What did he ever do to Neville to deserve this? What did Neville ever do to be so lucky?

"Maybe you could kill Grindelwald?" Hermione suggested, trying to cheer up her best friend.

"Yeah," Susan agreed. "He's still alive, isn't he?"

"Not even Dumbledore managed to kill Grindelwald," Luna added helpfully.

"You're right," Harry said, eyes sparkling. "Let's go!"

"What, now?" Hermione sputtered.

"I'm not gonna give Neville a chance to steal another kill," Harry agreed, shooting a glare at the other boy. Neville is surrounded by a menagerie of girls which now included several from Durmstrang. "Not again."

The End

AN: Yes this took a while, my only defense is to say while writing this story, I had four international moves and one domestic (Since 2008, missed five international by a couple months) and I'm gearing up for another international. That all tends to be a bit distracting.

Polish by dogbertcarroll, lwf58, dark_king98

Typos by ladysavay, mjihde

Igor's death by DireSquirrel

Omake by me

"Why do you have a straight razor Harry?"

"Two reasons," Harry replied, "the first is that it gives the closest shave you could ask for."

"And the other?"

"You get surprised in the bathroom once and you learn not to go without a weapon of some sort," Harry replied. "Ol' Sweeney Todd knew what he was doing."

"Should have known."

Omake by DireSquirrel

Just an idea, but:

Igor was terrified of being in Hogwarts. He hadn't even left Durmstrang grounds for years because of first his betrayal of so many fellow Death Eaters, then because of "accidents" that seemed to happen to old acquaintances and their kin.

But now, by the decree of the Durmstrang Board of Trustees, he was forced, much against his will, to spend nearly an entire day in the accursed castle for his British counterpart's retirement.

He took precautions: a constant bubblehead charm to prevent airborne potions; he developed a Moody-esque habit of flask drinking water he, himself summoned with the Aquamenti charm; he slept in a bare room, locked muggle and magical style from the inside, without even a bed, clothes or anything else that could kill him.

But then, *he *was there.

Neville Longbottom.

The-Boy-Who-Had-Done-The-Impossible-and-Killed-Severus-Snape. A boy, eleven years old, who killed the greatest potions master of Igor's generation, with a POTION!

The seating had been assigned. There was his name, Igor Karkaroff, and right next to him, inscribed in golden ink, was Neville Longbottom.

"Um, hi," the little monster said with a nervous smile. Double checking his bubblehead charm and anti-poison ward (stitched into his robes, on the inside with an impervious charm for good measure), he sat down next to the Longbottom assassin.

"You should try the shrimp, it's quite good," Neville suggested in an attempt at small talk.

'He KNOWS!' Igor screamed in his own head. 'How did he know I was allergic to seafood? Mustn't let him get to me.'

"Do you want some water?" Neville asked the silent man innocently. He held up the pitcher for the man to see.

'Must be poisoned,' Igor said in an internal panic. 'No, no, he's much too crafty for that. He's trying to make me nervous.'

"No," Igor said aloud. "I'm fine with my flask."

"Okay, just ask if you want some," Neville said as he started in on the grilled Sherbert Lemon encrusted giant shrimp. "Wow, this is *really* good shrimp!"

Karkaroff could hear his heart pounding in his chest like a 20 heavy metal drum solo. Neville looked up and caught the man's gaze for a moment as the boy took another bite of shrimp.

"Are you okay? You're looking a little pale," Neville commented with a concerned look.

'No! He already got me! How? I was-'

"URGK!" Igor said, clutching his chest as the stress caused his heart to give out, seemingly frozen for a split second before tipping over forward into his own plate of shrimp.

"Oh My GAWD! He killed Karkaroff!" one person exclaimed.

"Who me?" Neville asked as he pulled the Durmstrang headmaster up out of his plate. "Um, shouldn't somebody get him to the medical wing?"

"Our Hero!"

Blot's note: One of the reasons it took so long to finish this fic was that I couldn't think of a suitable way to kill Igor, this solved that problem.

Omake by dogbertcarroll

"Where's the new dark lord?" Harry asked with a sigh while entering the bar. He was really tired of this.

"That'd be Johnny over there," Bruce replied from behind the bar, pointing at a man who was obviously drunk and grinning broadly.

Harry looked at the man who had his arm around a lass with bright red hair and breasts bigger than his head.

"Doesn't look like much of a dark lord."

"Nah, we got him drunk and laid. That usually wipes all thoughts of dark magic from their minds. Between Shelia and some decent lager dark magic loses its appeal."

"What, really?"

"Yeah, takes a lot of repressed sexual urges to become a dark lord and Shelia usually unrepressed them to the point they can't walk. Give him a couple of days to sober up and he'll find a new hobby."