Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling.

**

Chapter 10, Final Chapter:

Many beings lived in the Forbidden Forest, both magical and non-magical. Harry Potter was far too close to the Acrumantula Colony, but when one of the giant spiders came near, investigating possible prey, a black centaur drew his bow. The Acrumantula knew the centaurs well, and feared them, with good reason. There were only about a dozen of them left since the centaurs had decided to exterminate them.

It was the middle of the night before Harry sat up, and grasped his head with a soft moan. Such a headache, but he looked at the Binding Bracelets in surprise. They were still around his wrists, but their power was broken. He glanced at a leaf, shining in the moonlight, and vanished it. He could do magic again! He was free! Now for a proper escape. Silently, the centaur moved back into the forest, out of sight. It was against the creed of the centaur to interfere in the affairs of wizards, but protecting the poor boy from the spiders, - certainly that much he could do.

Harry stood, taking stock, and wrinkling his nose. There was blood on his chin, and he tenderly touched his own tongue, finding it very sore. The smell of vomit, and his trousers were wet. Had he fitted then? More importantly, could he apparate? He had to go, but there were the wards, which would sound an alarm if he crossed them. Maybe better if they thought him dead.

He made a trial apparation, just a few yards, and found it not difficult, even though it made his head hurt worse. One must never apparate when sick, or especially tired, or when drunk. It was drummed into every learner. Harry had not yet learned to apparate, but he was not dependent on just his own learning.

It was a time for cunning. He had to sacrifice his clothing, but Harry thought it worthwhile. When he apparated to Cornwall, close to Kreighley Beach Home, he wore only the Muggle T-shirt he'd worn under his uniform shirt, for warmth. It was twisted around his waist, as a loin-cloth.

****

It was not until the afternoon of the following day that Hagrid found the evidence of Harry Potter's death, and reported to the headmistress. Snape and McKenzie were with her. Hagrid sniffled, and said gruffly, "I haven' touched nothin'. Thought you'd want to see."

McKenzie said, "I certainly do wish to see, but I'll check on how the investigations are coming first."

Snape said again, "I do not believe that Harry attacked anyone unless he was first attacked. He is not aggressive, not unstable, and certainly not liable to go berserk as that foolish woman suggests."

McKenzie admitted, "That he might have defeated two fully trained Aurors is a little hard to believe."

McGonnagal put in, "He's not even full-grown. And he was always small for his age."

McGonnagal remained behind, but Snape and McKenzie followed Hagrid as he strode through the dangerous forest until he indicated a torn and bloodied uniform cape. He said heavily, "The spiders live in a hollow not far away. We won't find a body."

There was more, the uniform trousers and a jumper, torn and bloodstained. Shoes, blood spattered. A few hundred yards further, and Snape picked up a pair of cheap underpants, and wrinkled his nose at the pungent odour of urine. He could almost see the poor boy, facing the spiders, and wetting himself in his terror.

McKenzie scouted, and called, "Here!"

They stood silent, staring at a large pool of blood. Snape bent and picked up a half wand, the broken end covered in blood. He said, his voice muffled a moment, "He fought." The blood of the giant spider is dark and glutinous, much more so than that of a human. The blood on the broken wand was dark and glutinous, the pool of blood almost black. Other splashes, a bit further away, were just dried brown, like human blood. Snape turned away, more distressed than he wanted people to know. The child who'd relaxed under his massaging hands, who'd giggled as Dumbledore floundered in the water, who'd been led out to Voldemort, shining white, declaring his innocence to the world. He was dead. The evidence was incontrovertible.

Once the story was told, Professor Trelawney horrified her students by telling about a vision she'd had. According to her, she'd seen the last moments of Harry Potter, dying valiantly, using his only weapons, two broken pieces of a wand, trying to defend himself against the spiders. And she shook her head, "The poor, poor Child of Destiny. He was always marked for death. I tried to warn him, and he laughed."

Neville said, "According to you, he was going to die every few months! You were wrong then, and I don't believe that you saw anything! You just put your story together from what you were told."

Trelawney pulled herself up to her full height, and said, "Detention with Mr. Filch, I will not have such impertinence in my class!" But she didn't repeat her gruesome story all that day.

There was a minute's silence for Harry that night, and there was talk of making the swimming pool the 'Harry Potter Memorial Pool,' but the talk died quite quickly. Harry Potter had become an embarrassment, and most of those who'd had anything to do with the way he was treated were happy to put the whole sorry affair out of their minds.

McKenzie had the half-wand checked. The Priori Incantatum spell wouldn't work, but it was firmly identified as that belonging to John Pettit. Pettit tried to deny it, asserting that the wand he was using was the wand he'd always had. It seemed he didn't know how scrupulous were the records kept by reputable wand-makers. Harry was cleared of any wrongdoing. Pettit knew enough to keep his mouth firmly shut and no others were implicated in the plot. His family did not object when he was expelled, only pointed out that he'd best set about earning his own living.

For no reason at all, Snape began to doubt Harry's death. He returned to the scene of the scattered clothing, and took several samples of blood, especially including the darker, thicker blood that had been assumed to have been spider blood. After several hour's painstaking analysis, he came to his conclusion. There was no evidence of spider blood in the area. It was human blood. But so much? The boy had to be dead. If not dead, where was he? He could not have escaped the grounds. The wards around the external walls had not been compromised, and apparation within the grounds of Hogwarts was not possible. Could Harry possibly be still living in the forest? If so, Hagrid didn't know. Hagrid had become very drunk, mourning his mistake in providing his pet giant spider with a mate. 'Wasn' only Harry, you know, Sev'rus,' he'd said, 'There were wolves and a centaur once, and deer. Too many younguns, and they needed food. Can' blame anythin' for wantin' to eat now, can yer? But the unicorns. Terr'ble to see unicorns disappearin'.'

In spite of the evidence, Snape clung to hope. He wanted Harry to be alive, and Gringotts should not close his vault. He especially didn't want his money and possessions to go to Petunia Dursley as the next of kin. The goblins were uncharacteristically obliging, stating firmly that as there was no body, there was no proof of death. In seven years, not before, they would presume death. And the goblin had added, "If he'd been one of us, we would have treated him as a hero, not a criminal!"

"Yes."

The goblin looked at the pain in the man's eyes, and added, with unusual kindness, "He might forgive one day, and return."

Maybe he would. A week later, Snape saw him in a group of uniformed school boys. A large boy grabbed him by the neck, but Harry whirled on him, fists raised. A second later, and another boy stood by Harry's side, also threatening the would-be bully, who made a jocular remark, and pretended he hadn't meant anything by it. Snape put himself where Harry would see him, the boy gave him a scant nod, and turned away. He still wore the Binding Bracelets.

Severus Snape nodded back, but turned away. He was thrilled to see the boy, but he'd do what he should have done when he'd first found him at the Beach Home, just leave him alone.

****

Harry, known as Ricky, pushed back at Chris as they raced along the beach. It was the middle of January, and very cold, but he was far more fit now than he'd been at the beginning of December when he'd apparated out of the Forbidden Forest. Chris panted, "The Cave!" and Harry turned his steps up into the soft sand, striving to beat Chris. It turned into a wrestling match, the two boys laughing and rolling in the sand under glowering Wintery skies. Nearby was a hollow in the cliff, barely large enough for two boys to shelter from a rain storm, 'The Cave.' At last, they stopped, panting, lying on their backs, hands behind their heads.

After a while, Chris said, "Ricky, will you answer a question?"

Harry answered casually, "Probably not."

"Does it hurt when a man puts it in?"

"It only happened to me once, and I scarcely remember. Drugged, I think."

"They say you were used for sex, all the time."

"No, just the once."

"You came back looking awful."

Harry turned his head, grinning, "I'm good now. Very good. It's a good place."

"That was a mean-looking bugger who came for you that time."

Harry chuckled, remembering what Snape had said, - that he was the wrong gender, and too skinny besides. It had been six weeks, and he was still thin, in spite of his very healthy appetite. The food was plain, but plentiful. His clothing was basic, but everything he needed was provided. It was a good place, and Davies had done as he'd promised. His return had been kept very quiet.

Chris said, "Mr. Clark says he'll give me fifty pounds and a Nintendo if I let him."

"I wouldn't if I were you. I was sore for days afterwards. Better to do without a Nintendo."

"Money'd be good."

"I guess." Money would be good, and it would be great if he had a computer, and could buy better clothes. Even just a chocolate bar now and then. But Harry said, "No-one here hits us, we have enough to eat, we get to go to school, and we're not in any danger. You'd be a fool to spoil it, Chris."

Chris turned to look at his friend with an immense curiosity. Ricky was a puzzle. There were times when he acted like a six-year-old, when they'd been to a funfair, for example, and times like this, when he looked into the distance with an immense sadness. He still had weekly physical checkups, but they'd given up making him see the therapist. He refused to talk about his past, even to the police. Chris never wondered about the decorative wrist-bands that Ricky wore. He only ever noticed them if he happened to catch his hand when they wrestled, and then forgot them straight after.

McKenzie noticed them, and gave a sigh of relief. Harry Potter was effectively a Muggle, apparently perfectly content to be a Muggle, and he was alive. He was happy to know he was alive. It had to have been Severus Snape who'd freed him. He may have been a brilliant man in many ways, but that pretense of grieving, - a little over-done he'd thought. Snape had a reputation as a cold man, unfeeling. The boy wasn't doing any harm. McKenzie decided to leave him in peace and tell no-one that Harry Potter was alive.

He couldn't help himself. When next he saw Snape, he made a few hints about his Demter Ward. Snape remained inscrutable, but a few days later, went again to see Harry. This time Harry crossed to him and asked coolly, "You wanted me?"

Snape nodded at the Binding Bracelets, "You're still wearing them."

"The one who helped me, - he made a spell so that Muggles don't notice them."

"Do you want anything?"

"Warn me if they're coming for me?"

"I'll do that. It's presumed you're dead."

Harry smiled slightly, "My name is Ricky."

"There is a Potter Manor. You might like to change your mind when you're older."

Harry nodded, "One day I might marry, and have children. They'd need to go to Hogwarts, I guess, and it wouldn't be right to deny them their birthright."

"Anything you need, write to me, Muggle post. I'll give you the address."

"My photograph album? You'll need to make a charm to freeze the pictures."

Snape nodded, "Certainly."

Harry said suddenly, "And a Nintendo. Can you take that much money out of my vault?"

"What's a Nintendo?"

"A Muggle toy."

"I'll organise it."

"Thank you."

Snape nodded, awkward. Harry suddenly grinned, "I should have done it last Summer. I wouldn't glow white any more. There's a girlfriend."

Snape laughed, "Good."

He guessed it was as Harry told him months before, that he could be perfectly happy living as a Muggle in a Muggle world. With Voldemort gone, and Dumbledore gone, Harry would have been the most powerful wizard in England. Could it really not bother him that he'd lost his magic? He'd referred to a helper, who'd made the Cloaking Magic on the wrist-bands. McKenzie had assumed that he'd been the helper. If not himself, then who? Kingsley? Jeremy? Maybe both? Sirius even? Or maybe there was no helper. Maybe the most powerful wizard in England had broken the magic himself. It was impossible. Snape knew that, but indulged himself in the daydream. He liked to think that the Child of Light had emerged triumphant.

****

The End.

The Sacrifice Series continues in 'The Demter Guardian.'