She woke up.

Consciousness came slowly; she could still taste the remains of the firewhiskey in her mouth, as well as the dehydration such drinking produced. Her head felt like a troll had stepped on it; muscles ached from simply trying to push herself beyond breaking. Even the hints of sunlight through the curtains hurt her, the light agonizing to her eyes.

Last night had been hard - really hard - but necessary. After all this time... after all she'd been through... she'd finally cracked. She could still feel the raw blisters in her throat from screaming herself hoarse; all around her, she could see traces of elf magic from the repairs of her tantrum. To be honest, she was surprised it wasn't worse; she would definitely owe Kreacher an apology once she recovered.

But she hadn't recovered, had she? She couldn't recover. She was the last casualty of the Light in the previous war; wraiths and ghosts were assigned realms of their own, and not allowed among the living. Oh, the Ministry thought they were treating their little wraith well - let her have her own house to haunt, and all that - but it was still their way of keeping her at a distance.

She snorted. Maybe they were right; maybe she was a Dark Creature like they'd classified her. Of course, it's not like your average wizard could roast fifty Death Eaters with a thought, or have glowing green eyes out of some monster film...

The laughter increased, even through the pain of hangover, as her thoughts progressed; it had hurt like hell at the time it happened, but now she was laughing. Death Eater Poster Boy Draco Malfoy gets it in his crotch to make sex slaves out of the Light's best. Somewhere - maybe it was fate - he messes up the spell, and finds out what "The Power He Knows Not" means. Whoops! While Death Eaters weren't known for their intelligence, that had to rank among the dumbest moves of all time!

The laughter stopped suddenly, and she gathered herself. Maybe she really had cracked, if she would break out like that.

But she'd laughed at it. She could laugh at it now. She could cry - she certainly cried about it last night - and she could laugh.

God, she'd forgotten what laughing and crying - what emotions - were like.

Almost unconsciously, her cheeks tugged on the edges of her lips. She wasn't sure if it was real, and she knew it wasn't much of one, but she could at least smile again somewhat.

She was back.

Sort of. She rose from where she had collapsed, and looked around.

"Kreacher!"

"Yes, Master?" the aged elf responded. Kreacher knew better than to call her 'mistress'.

She moved to speak... then stopped. "Thanks for repairing the damage from last night."

"Oh, it is no problem, Master," Kreacher bowed. "I have made breakfast for you, as well as a hangover remedy. Should I serve it here, or in the dining room?"

She blinked. "The dining room." She paused for a moment, her chin jutted forward in determination. She knew what would be waiting for her. The Wizengamot would not be happy, to say the least. "Also... prepare a bath for me, as well as clothes for an outing. It's been too long since I've truly seen the sun."

Kreacher stopped for a moment, then nodded happily. "As you wish, Master."

Her orders given, Harry - now Harri - Potter gingerly made her way down to the dining room. She wasn't sure what would come of this, but she knew she had to get out.

***

She hated being small.

Before her change, she'd grown to a height of nearly six feet. Years of quidditch had given her a lean musculature that had the girls drooling. While the musculature translated as part of her change, her body had shrunk a good twenty centimeters, and the broad shoulders she'd secretly been proud of became slim, narrow - "elegant", Hermione had called them once upon a time. As far as Harri was concerned, all of her height went to her chest. Of course, after years of confinement, even the musculature had faded away; one more piece of her old life gone.

Personally, she was just glad that Kreacher had been able to find pants. She'd been pretty insistent on avoiding a skirt, and still was; she recognized the need for bras and panties, but as long as the skirt could be avoided, she would with a vengeance, because frankly skirts were about useless. Beyond that, well... she had to have some pride in her appearance. The black slacks hugged her body; also, she'd chosen a green collarless blouse that shimmered in the light. She'd also conceded to other feminine touches; she wore black hose and flats (but never heels!), and just enough makeup to not get noticed.

She then looked at her face, and noticed the other problem about her appearance. She'd always kept her jet-black hair cut fairly short in the aftermath, as she hated long hair. The face had softened from the change; severe cheekbones turned "cute", the strong jaw became softly pointed, and the nose well on its way to becoming hawklike suddenly became slightly upturned. It was a beautiful face, if she stopped long enough to say so.

But the eyes... that was the truest statement that something had changed. Before, her eyes had been an intense green. Little did anyone know what that green reflected. Now, her eyes glowed inwardly with an emerald light; she could no more switch it off than she could switch off her own heartbeat. She picked up a pair of deep black sunglasses, and put them on.

One more touch was needed. "Kreacher?"

"Yes, Master Harri?"

"Do you have my cloak?"

"Of course, Master," he replied; an instant later, he reappeared with the cloak. "Here you are."

She reached for the cloak and draped it over her shoulders. It wasn't the old invisibility cloak; it was an ordinary black cloak. However, she did like the way it flowed around her.

She smiled. It was time to go.

***

They just didn't make wizards like they used to.

Harri frowned as she walked the streets of Hogsmeade. Nobody gave her a second glance; they just saw another witch on a shopping trip. Her own eyes were hidden by the sunglasses, which was a good thing, because the expression in her eyes would have told far too much.

She hadn't realized just how weak the wizarding community was. Most of these nitwits were purebred, inbred morons who didn't have the penis ammo to sire a puppy. Their magical cores were equally unimpressive; the future looked pretty bleak for them. This was a dying breed - dying because, for the most part, they shunned and killed the one group of people that could have saved them.

But there were some worth saving. She could feel it. She couldn't quite explain it, but she could feel it. Hermione was different. Hermione's child, from what she'd seen of the kid, was different. Lupin had felt different; she'd dismissed that with his lycanthropy, but now she wasn't so sure. They had power within them, true power - nothing like the "wizards" that surrounded her.

But why? The key to all of this, even her change, was in that difference. But what could she do about it?

She frowned as she looked at the sign of the Three Broomsticks. It had been four years, seven months, and eight days since she'd last had butterbeer. Whatever revolutions she had planned could wait.

The moment she walked in, she realized that all this was a mistake. She hadn't just walked out of the house on any day; she'd walked out on one of the Hogsmeade weekends that Hogwarts had! Most of the tables were full of students - laughing, giggling, gossiping students.

Somebody shoot her now and put her out of her misery.

Madame Rosemerta took one look at her and smiled. "Over here, dearie," Rosemerta led her to a booth in a corner, where two students were already drinking; Harri smiled her thanks. "Is there anything you'd like?"

"Butterbeer, please."

Rosemerta tilted her head curiously. "Nothing stronger? I've got some firewine in the back... good vintage..."

Harri sighed. Grow a couple of boobs and everyone thinks... "Butterbeer will be fine."

Rosemerta grimaced. "Okay, dearie. By the way, I may have to send more people back here to drink with you; it's a Hogwarts weekend, dontcha know."

"I... gathered that," Harri said dryly. She took a deep breath, and looked at her companions - Hogwarts students both, by the look of it. One was a gawky-looking girl with brown hair, a slight overbite, and a Gryffindor tie; the other, a boy, reminded her of a young Cedric Diggory, right down to the crease-perfect hair, beginning-to-develop muscles, and Hufflepuff tie. "Good afternoon," she said cordially. "I apologize if I'm disturbing anything."

The two looked at each other, blushed slightly, then offered denials. "No..." the girl said in a soft voice. "You're not disturbing anything." She stuck out her hand hesitantly; clearly she qualified as an introvert. "I'm Annie. Annie Longbottom."

Harri looked at the hand for a moment, then accepted it; she blinked. Some form of static charge came out from it, shocking the two of them. "I'm Harriet," she said quickly, so the 't' almost vanished. "Er... sorry about that."

Their companion then offered his own hand. "I'm Mike Davies," he replied, a little hastily.

Again, she accepted the hand, all the while ignoring his eyes on her breasts; again, she frowned at the charge that passed through them. "I'm sorry about that. I'm not sure what's causing that. You two haven't been practicing the fulgetra spell, have you?" she said with a gentle smile.

Annie frowned. "No, I haven't... Cousin Neville taught me the spell as self-defense, but..."

Mike blinked. "Professor Longbottom knows defense?"

Hearing this, Harri found herself chuckling. "Neville had some serious advantages and disadvantages growing up," she opined. "Partly because of what happened to his parents, partly because of how his gran raised him... he was the classical definition of a late bloomer." She smiled wistfully; as Rosemerta chose that moment to give her the butterbeer, she raised it in a toast. "But once he bloomed, he was one of the best wizards you could ever find - and absolutely deadly with the wand."

Annie frowned. "Also, you don't know what it was like back then. Gran kept all of us kids hidden when Voldemort was in power. If he was still in power... you'd have been hunted down and killed for being muggleborn." She took a sip of her own butterbeer, then her eyes widened. "Wait a minute... are you..."

"Hello, Harri."

The new voice at the table stopped everyone - especially Mike, who suddenly found a new pair of breasts to fixate on. And a delicious pair they were, as was the rest of her. Platinum blond hair cascaded down her shoulders; piercing blue eyes stared back at the group; bow-shaped scarlet lips were twisted in an ironic smile. Harri's eyebrows rose from her sunglasses as recognition dawned. "Gabrielle? It's been what, five years?"

"You remember!" she replied, then sat in her seat. She looked over at Madame Rosemerta. "You were saying something about firewine? That would be excellent, thank you."

Rosemerta walked away, finally happy that someone would try her wine, as Gabrielle glided into her seat. She then raised an eyebrow. "Where have you been, Harri? You didn't even come to Fleur's wedding!"

Harri sighed, then blinked thoughtfully. "I've been... studying my family library. You'd be surprised what's left in there." She cocked her head to one side. "What are you doing here? Finally graduated?"

Gabrielle grinned. "Just finished my tour of the world; decided to stop and see how my sister was doing before heading back to France." She reached across the table to grab Harri's hand, then flinched at the shock that passed between them. "Though your presence does explain some things..."

Harri's head tilted to the side. "Such as?"

Gabrielle took a deep breath. "You are, of course, aware of my heritage. What you may not know is that, while I do not share most of my grandmother's traits, a few... instincts still remain." A glass of wine was placed in front of her; Gabrielle stroked the stem in appreciation. "One of these is a... calling of sorts. A knowledge of where we are needed - of where someone we love needs our help. I had felt this for the past couple of weeks, an insistence to come to this island." She shook her head. "I had thought that it meant for me to go to Fleur, but now..."

Harri frowned. "I am not welcome here." A gasp from Annie came in response to the words. "Today was the first day in four years that I have left the confines of my home. At first it was because I didn't know how to act and respond with what I'd become. After that... it was because the Ministry doesn't know how to act and respond with what I've become."

"Ah, that is the crime of the British," Gabrielle agreed. "They have no concept of how to treat their heroes. After Jeanne... we French learned our lesson."

"Wait," Annie interrupted. "You... You're Harry Potter, right?"

Harri nodded. "It's been awhile, but yes."

The two Hogwarts students were suitably impressed. "Cool!" Annie replied, then bit her lip. "Could... could you tell me what the war was like? Whenever I ask Gran or Neville, they just... clam up."

Harri stopped at the words. "I... Annie, is it?" Annie nodded. "I think the problem that your family is running into is that they don't know how to tell you. How it feels to be hunted every day. How it feels to wonder, on going to sleep, if you're going to have a dozen wands pointed in your face." Her eyes lowered; her hands started to shake. "How it feels to be captured, to know that your life is at the whim of sadistic madmen. How it feels to..." She shook her head. "Some things we can't explain, because we're not sure how to explain it. Others... others we can't come to terms with."

After a moment, she blinked, then grinned in a lopsided manner. Considering her legal status or lack thereof, she could actually get away with some things she couldn't before. "I'll tell you what. How about I tell you some of my experiences as far as I'm able? For me, the war was a lot longer than everyone else, after all."

The two students nodded. "Okay," Mike replied. "I mean, I hear all about this weird stuff happening from my classmates. It'd be nice if I could get another perspective on it."

Harri grinned. "Okay. For me, I guess it starts the day I found out I was a wizard..."

***

"You look better."

Harri walked along the streets of Hogsmeade, feeling... light. Four years in solitude had left her with plenty of stories to tell. Actually telling them had been cathartic; everything, even the less-than-legal acts like busting Sirius out, had been told. There were no secrets any more. She had let everything out - even the pain of her change and the horror of what was to come. "I feel better." She wiped a tear from behind her glasses. "I needed that."

Gabrielle looked as she wiped her tears, and touched Harri's wrist. "Harri?"

"Yes?"

She reached up to Harri's glasses. "May I see?"

After a moment, Harri nodded, and let Gabrielle see her eyes.

As Gabrielle stared at her eyes in fascination, Harri stared at her, a painful mix of emotions playing inside her. She may have been changed in body, but she still had an appreciation for the female form as potential mate. And, frankly, they didn't come much better than Gabrielle. The maddening part of all of it was the perfection - the elegance of her ankles and legs, the subtle curve of her hips, the absolute perfect size of her breasts... and the face.

Oh, heavens, that face... she couldn't imagine a face like that. The gentle slope of her neck. The magnificent curve of her jaw, leading to a perfectly nibbleable area on the back of her ear. The shape of her lips - just pouty enough to be beautiful, nowhere near enough to be obnoxious. That flawless skin. The cute turned-up nose of hers. Those beautiful blue eyes, those shimmering azure eyes, the sort that a person could get lost in...

Her breath caught in her throat. "Oh, no..."

Gabrielle blinked. "What is it, Harri?"

With a thought, Harri summoned a mirror to her. She handed the mirror to Gabrielle. "I... I don't know how, but... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry..."

Gabrielle frowned, then took the mirror to look at her eyes.

Her blue eyes - eyes that glowed softly in the fading twilight.

***

"Fleur? Bill? Are you there?"

Fleur blinked at her sister's voice coming from the fire. She looked over at her husband, then back to the fire. "Gabrielle? What's wrong?"

Gabrielle looked back from the flames. "I'll explain shortly. Also, I've got a guest. Can we come?"

"Of course," Gabrielle replied, absolutely perplexed. What could have her sister so worked up...

... Oh. That was a surprise...

"Harri! How are you doing?" Bill walked over, his hand extended.

"Don't touch me!" Harri screamed.

Bill blinked. "... okay.... What's the matter?"

Gabrielle looked down at her feet for a minute. "Sorry. I still think Harri's overreacting, but I didn't know where else to go." She took a deep breath.

"Auntie Gabi?" A two-year-old blonde - Fleur's daughter, Victoire - looked out from behind the couch.

"Hello, mon petit chou," Gabrielle replied, and lifted the blonde up into her arms. "How has your day been?"

"Um..." The child wasn't sure how to answer that.

"Well, I had a fantastic day," Gabrielle continued. "I met an old friend of mine, and she taught me some really neat tricks! You want to see?"

After a moment's indecision, Victoire nodded. Gabrielle looked out at her surroundings, and held out her hand.

Fleur gasped; she felt Bill sit up in surprise behind her. As she watched, Victoire's stuffed dolls began to stand up. After a few seconds, the dolls began to form their own parade, with a music coming out of the air. It was a beautiful piece of magic, the sort of complexity only a master witch could accomplish. The scary thing about all of it was that Gabrielle hadn't used her wand.

Fleur clapped in appreciation. "That was incredible, Gabrielle! Where did you learn that?"

"She's changed, Fleur." For the first time since her outburst, Fleur noticed the tiny figure sitting at the end of the couch. "I'm sorry; somehow, when I touched her, something transferred between us. She... she's becoming like me."

Fleur raised an eyebrow. "And this is a bad thing? No matter what that odious Ministry has said of you, you are still the most powerful wizard on the planet. And you say that Gabrielle becoming like you is a bad thing?"

"But I can't control it!" Harry growled. "Anyone I've touched - Gabrielle, those two kids... oh god, those kids..."

"Excuse me," Fleur interrupted. "So you have not touched anyone else this day besides those three?"

Harri frowned in thought. "Well, I touched Madame Rosemerta, but she... well... she's not that gifted magically."

"I see." Without warning, Fleur jumped over to Harri and grabbed her hands; she blinked as she felt an electric shock between them.

"Are you crazy?" Harri screamed, leaping away. "Do you want to be a freak like me?"

After a moment, Fleur slowly approached Harri. Harri resisted after a moment, then stopped, apparently realizing it was far too late for Fleur. Fleur grabbed Harri's head and brought her into a gentle hug.

"My poor Harri... All your life, everyone has hurt you for being different. Your family, your Death Eater rivals... even the fools outside this door." She shook her head. "It is not bad to be different - especially if that different is better than normal. It is difficult and takes some time to adjust... but the rewards in the end are far greater than the costs."

"But..."

"Shhh, we'll talk about the details later - especially as I believe there are some things you need to hear." Fleur arched an eyebrow. "Now, I was about to make supper; I believe I should make more with you and Gabrielle here. Now, I have no problem with what you have become, but I do have one request. Is that all right?"

"Of course," Harri agreed.

"Have you touched a man yet? Like you touched me, or Gabrielle?"

Harri nodded slowly. "The boy - Mike." She shuddered. "Oh, Merlin... you don't think..."

Fleur locked her eyes with Harri. "Slow down, Harri. I think it unlikely; however, until I find that there are no other physical effects - and that shouldn't take long, from what I'm seeing of my sister's powers - I would prefer that you not touch my husband. As much as I love him, I would prefer that my husband not become my wife."

"Sorry, mate," Bill supplied. "Fleur would be annoyed with me if I did."

"I... of course!" She shrank within herself. "I don't want to touch anyone right now without permission."

"Good!" She walked over to the floo. "Now, just let me make a few calls, and I'll start dinner. It shouldn't take long."

Harri frowned. "A few calls?"

Fleur winked. "Did you think you returning from the dead shouldn't be celebrated?"

***

Minerva McGonagall stared out at the Scottish countryside, her feelings a strange mix. Concern, most certainly; two of her students had changed in ways no one had expected, and it would take time for them to adjust. Fear, definitely, as she knew what was to come. But with it, hope and exhilaration as well, because the sort of thing about to happen only occurred once in millennia.

She looked back at the others in the office, for once unsure of what to say. She knew what was to come. The fact that Lucius Malfoy and Walden Macnair still hold Wizengamot positions - the fact that Dolores Umbridge had risen to head of the Department of Mysteries - had spelled trouble. It had been a necessary thing; after Voldemort, a workable peace had to be forged, and that meant working with many of those "alleged" Death Eaters.

There would be no peace, now; she knew that. If the accounts her students had given were any indication, the peace was about to be shattered.

She took a deep breath and looked at her colleagues - Poppy Pomfrey, Ernie MacMillan, and Neville Longbottom. This was not going to be easy. "First of all, what is said in this room does not leave this room. Is that understood?"

Nods came in reply. Neville leaned forward, his hand resting on her desk. "Minerva, is Annie..."

Minerva took a deep breath. "Ms. Longbottom is as fine as a wizard should be - both physically and mentally - as is Mr. Davies." She took a deep breath. "However, there may be problems as to their legal status."

Neville's eyes narrowed. "Legal status?"

Minerva nodded grimly. "They are currently classified as 'magical creatures'. If that sounds familiar, it should."

Ernie was the first to make the connection. "Harry?"

Minerva nodded. "Ms. Potter went to the Three Broomsticks earlier today for a butterbeer; due to the crowds, she was seated at the same table as Ms. Longbottom and Mr. Davies. I've subsequently had conversation with Mrs. Fleur Weasley; it would seem that Ms. Potter was unaware of the effect of her touch on others, and was quite distraught that she could have harmed the two in any way."

Poppy raised her eyebrows. "So the Weasleys have been hiding her all this time?"

Neville shook his head. "Nah. I would have known about it if they had." He smiled ruefully. "Besides, Ginny contacted me a few minutes before this to let me know we were eating at Fleur's tonight, that the whole clan was invited. Any guesses as to the guest of honor?"

Ernie smiled. "So Harri's back. That's a good thing, right?"

Minerva sighed. "That depends on who you are. Everyone in this room? Probably. Lucius Malfoy? Dolores Umbridge? Anyone in the Wizengamot or Ministry of Magic?" She shook her head. "Diggory as Minister has probably kept things from getting out of hand by keeping some of the more draconian rulings from occurring. But with Harri back - and other witches and wizards with his power - the fragile peace that has lasted until now is gone." She took a deep breath. "Which is why I want no mention of this to anyone. Is that understood?"

Poppy frowned. "The Ministry is going to ask -"

"I will talk with Amos in person tomorrow morning," Minerva added. "Preferably with a bottle of scotch for us to share. I've asked him for a private meeting here to talk about a situation that has occurred in the school. That is all he knows for now." She grinned. "Sometimes, bureaucracy is a beautiful thing. By that point, I rather suspect that things will have progressed far beyond the ministry's control." She winked. "Enjoy supper, Mr. Longbottom..."

***

"Harri?"

Harri looked up from the remains of her plate. She'd been polite, if quiet, and let most of the others speak so far. "Yeah, Ron?"

Ron's hands were steepled in front of his face. "Harri, mate... I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

Harri blinked. "For what?"

Ron took a deep breath. "After the war... I didn't know what to make of you. I mean, here's my mate... but my mate's a girl. I know it wasn't your fault you changed... but I didn't have any idea how to act around you anymore. So I ignored you - and for that I'm sorry."

Fred coughed, and put his hand in Angelina's. "Also, well... most of us wanted to put the war behind us. Let's face it; Voldemort's reign took a lot out of us. Most of us just wanted to forget what had happened and go on with our lives."

George finished the thought as his hand found Alicia's. "But some people couldn't go on with their lives. We didn't keep up with how you were doing. We should have."

Harri bit her lip, not sure how to respond. "I... I don't know if I could have been helped, early on." She closed her eyes. "Do you know how often I tried to change myself back with my magic? Each time I'd try... each time my magic would warp me slightly, and I'd spring back to this. I must have done that a thousand times in the first year, even to the point of knocking myself out with my magic." She looked over to Hermione. "Hermione, what was my standard response whenever you came by?"

Hermione coughed, then lowered the timbre of her voice to a deeper monotone. "'Go away, 'mione. I'm fine. Really.'" She raised an eyebrow. "That sound about right?"

"About perfect," Harri grinned in reply, then sobered. "Guys... I don't know what to do anymore. All I know is that I can't live as I have. If that means taking on the Ministry and the Wizengamot... so be it."

She looked down at the table, to a sight she hadn't seen in years. She knew those eyes. They all had different ways of showing it - Fred and George gave lopsided grins, Ron and Hermione nodded fiercely, Molly Weasley tilted her head to the side - but they all, even Percy, had the same message.

"Okay," Percy said as he adjusted his tie. "We're with you. You're going to need help, though. You're about to enter the shark tank - and you're going to need to know who you can trust." He took a deep breath. "However... before we do anything, you're going to need to make a decision."

Harri raised an eyebrow.

***

Ron frowned, rubbed his eyes, and looked at the clock. He blinked, rubbed his eyes again so that two of the three minute hands he was staring at would go away, then sighed.

It was going to be one of those nights.

He slid out of bed and reached for his robe. Sometimes Hermione had nights like this; long ago, he'd accepted that she'd have nightmares, he'd hold her and let her cry on his shoulder, and they'd either fall asleep together on the sofa or sometimes make it back to the bed. It had been really bad after the war; things had seemed to settle in recent months, but now...

He found her on the sofa, staring into the fire as though the mysteries of the universe could be explained in it. He stared at it again, then blinked at the lines of magic running through it; maybe they could.

"Sorry, dear," Hermione whispered, her golden eyes never leaving the flames. "Couldn't sleep."

He sat down beside her, expecting the standard drill to play out. He was surprised, then, when she began to speak.

"I... I almost didn't take it tonight."

Ron blinked. "What? Why?"

She took a deep breath. "I know this may sound silly - I mean, we were all same year - but I always felt I had to look after her like a little sister." She gave a wan smile. "I was the one who was spared, you see. When..." her voice caught in her throat, "when Draco and his thugs had planned to..."

Ron's mouth went dry. Hermione never talked about that night - ever.

"... to make me and Harry into his slaves, Draco had been very specific about the order. He wanted to change Harry's body, first. Once that was done, I was to be next - and then I was to be broken. Draco wanted Harri to know everything that was going to happen to her - by doing it to me first." She sniffed. "If it wasn't for Harri being Harri..."

"... we'd all be dead," Ron finished.

"Death would have been a mercy," Hermione countered softly. "Death I could have handled. Not... not that." She straightened up. "That's why I always visited her, Ron. We were friends... but I owe her, more than I can ever say."

She smiled. "Oddly enough, I knew this day would come; she would come back. Knew it ever since she took refuge in Grimmauld. When she was ready." She gulped. "And... to be honest, that scares me more than anything."

"Why?" Ron asked.

She pursed her lips. "Because going out means she's going to get attacked by somebody - physical, emotional, does it matter? - and that means she's going to get hurt."

Ron took a deep breath. "Hermione... remember when we were back at Hogwarts? How often did everyone think the worst of him? Second year, everyone thought he was this 'Heir of Slytherin' - as though Harry could ever really do something like that. Fifth year, the Ministry was doing everything it could to discredit him - even sending that toad Umbridge into the school to teach Defense!" He reached out and grabbed her hand. "If she's strong enough to stand, she'll keep on standing. You know that as well as I do. If she didn't think she was ready for this... she wouldn't have left."

Hermione leaned against him. "But she's going to need our help, this time. This isn't just a running battle against some Death Eaters - at least, not a physical battle. There are so many fronts to this battle that it's starting to make the war look simple by comparison." She started naming them off. "You've got the minister, you've got the Wizengamot, you've got the press, you've got Hogwarts, you've got the internationals -"

Ron blinked. "Internationals?"

Hermione smiled lazily. "Woman's intuition, love." She chuckled. "Too bad Harri hasn't learned how it works yet, otherwise tonight would have been a lot more fun."

"Well, now that she's back, I guess it's up to you to teach her," Ron replied.

To his surprise, Hermione just shook her head and chuckled.

***

Minerva McGonagall would be laughing out loud - if she thought she could get away with it.

Sunglasses were starting to come in vogue. After determining that Ms. Longbottom and Mr. Davies were no longer in any danger, the pair went back to their respective houses, and were currently enjoying breakfast. Professor Longbottom had also developed a taste for sunglasses; most, she suspected, thought he was doing it out of respect for his cousin, but she knew better.

And their eyes were of such beauty. Mr. Davies' eyes were this beautiful reddish color; the Longbottoms shone a soft gold. Watching them perform magic was a wonder; there was no struggle at all, they just did it with a thought. She felt like a child again, discovering magic for the first time. How could she not be excited?

Smiling, she used a napkin, rose from her seat, and made her way to her office. She had a meeting to prepare for.

Once she entered the office, she pulled out a bottle, one she'd saved for a special occasion. Glen Garioch 15 year. Not the best she'd ever had (the 21-year she'd drunk after the first Death Eater War would always hold that spot), but it would do. She pulled out a pair of glasses, then opened the bottle to let it aerate.

"Drinking in the morning? Doesn't seem like you, Professor."

Minerva turned around in surprise at the unfamiliar voice - only to find a familiar face staring back. "Good morning, Harri. You're looking well - better than the rumors I'd heard." She raised an eyebrow. "I assume you heard about the meeting from Neville?"

Harri nodded. "I know Amos is supposed to meet here with you in a half-hour." She looked downward for a moment. "I don't mean to hijack your meeting, but I suspect meeting with him here would be far more secure than at the Ministry."

Minerva chuckled. "It would, at that. Show your face at the Ministry, and they're liable to try to lock you up."

"I know," she replied darkly, and Minerva's heart dropped. This was the first time she'd seen Harri since the final battle - and for the first time she realized the cost of the war. She remembered holding Lily's baby, and the innocence in those green eyes; there was no innocence left in that face, and the eyes were hidden behind sunglasses.

She pursed her lips. "Take your sunglasses off, please. I know you have your reasons for wearing them, but I would prefer to see your eyes as they are."

Harri nodded, and took off her glasses; Minerva's own eyes widened. She'd thought the kids she'd seen yesterday had exuded power. Harri practically screamed her power in her emerald gaze. "Thank you, Harri." She searched for something to say. "So. Why now?"

Harri took a deep breath, and looked out the window. "I went into hiding at first because I couldn't live with myself, and then because I thought nobody could live with me." She shrugged. "I guess I realized that I couldn't run away anymore." Her eyes turned back to Minerva. "How are they doing?"

Minerva smiled. "They're good. We've decided to copy your fashion sense for the time being; they're wearing sunglasses until they don't need to hide their abilities. As for their 'wand work', they're using false wands for the moment." She shook her head. "I have no clue how I'm going to teach these children. They could wave their hand and pass their NEWTs right now."

Harri scratched the back of her head. "Sorry about that. I can control it now, thank goodness; took the use of a dozen Weasleys as guinea pigs, but I can control it."

Minerva chuckled at the thought of Harri using the Weasleys as guinea pigs to control her gift. "Can you change anyone?" Minerva asked.

"No," Harri replied. "In fact, of your students, I could change maybe half. The others aren't strong enough." She raised an eyebrow. "Oddly enough, the muggleborn and half-bloods seem to be stronger; I suspect that Voldemort's war has led to a little too much inbreeding."

"Can you... change me?"

Harri chuckled. "One of the best transfiguration wizards ever to walk the earth, and you're wondering if you have enough power?" She smiled. "Yes, you do - but I'd prefer not to yet."

Minerva raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

Harri looked back at her sideways. "Because right now, your political power as Headmistress of Hogwarts is needed. And we can't compromise that if we plan on getting anything done."

She frowned. "What are your plans?"

Harri put up two fingers in the air. "Plan A: Ask Minister Diggory to sponsor a bill in the Wizengamot restoring my status as a Witch of full and honorable standing, including my hereditary posts as head of House Potter and House Black, and ensuring the rights of all others who have been changed. Plan B: If they refuse, change the composition of the Wizengamot and Ministry until they do so."

Minerva whistled. "War, then."

Harri shook her head. "The war never ended for me - not even the first war." She looked outside. "After Voldemort killed my parents, I was sent to live with my aunt and uncle; given their treatment of me, it might as well have been a prisoner-of-war camp. Once I arrived here, I was always fighting Voldemort or his lackeys. Then after... I was basically in house arrest for four years." Her jaw tightened. "It ends now. I want to live my life - and I will damn anyone who stands in my way."

"I see." Minerva felt a disturbance in Hogwarts, and smiled. "It would seem you are about to have your audience. Minister Diggory has arrived. Now I will warn you: there is one thing you haven't heard yet that I will say to both you and Amos. I'm surprised you haven't guessed it yet, but there is one story yet that you need to hear."

"Okay," Harri nodded evenly, then retreated to a corner of the office.

A moment later, Amos Diggory walked into the office. Harri smiled; despite the title he wore, Amos didn't wear it on his clothes. He still wore a commoner's clothes - a sweater, slacks, and boots. "Good morning, Minerva." He raised an eyebrow at the scotch. "Is the news that bad - or that good?"

Minerva chuckled. "Is 'both' an acceptable answer?"

Amos smiled. "Rufus used to tell me what it was like to work with Albus before he died. Whenever the Headmaster had news, headaches usually followed. Now I know for a fact that Potter's been graduated for four years now, so what's the cause of the headache?"

Neither Minerva nor Harri could help it; they both started laughing. "Um... Minister... I'm afraid I'm still the cause of the headache, this time."

Diggory took one look at Harri, and shuddered. "Oh, dear... I think I'll have that scotch, now."

Minerva nodded knowingly. "I thought you would. On the rocks, correct?"

"Correct," Diggory agreed, then sighed. "So is this why you arranged this meeting? So I could talk with Potter?"

"No," Harri interjected. "I sort of hijacked the meeting once I heard about it. The original reason for the meeting was caused by me as well, though not intentionally."

"I see." He accepted the glass from Minerva. "I suggest you start filling me in as to what's going on."

Minerva took a deep breath. "As you may know, this weekend was a Hogsmeade weekend; as usual, many of the students ended up spending time in the Three Broomsticks. As it happened, Ms. Potter also decided to leave her exile yesterday."

Diggory took a sip of the scotch. "I don't even want to think about the mess that is going to cause."

"Oh, it gets better, Amos," Minerva countered. "Ms. Potter had not touched a human being in literally years. It seemed that some of the changes that the Death Eaters had wrought on Potter were... spreadable."

Amos choked on his scotch. "Sp-sp-spreadable?!?"

Minerva nodded. "Ms. Potter has since learned to control her ability; however, she did not have that control yesterday, when she made contact with two of Hogwarts' students. Several hours after this contact, the students found themselves with the magical sight, instinctive magic, and wandless magic characteristics of Ms. Potter's own abilities, if not her magical strength."

Amos sighed. "I was right. It is giving me a headache." He looked over at Harri. "So what do you want?"

"My life," Harri said simply.

"Let me guess. You want your standing as a wizard - sorry, witch - restored. Also, knowing you, you want to make sure that the witches and wizards you changed yesterday keep their status as well."

Harri nodded. "Basically, yes."

Amos rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Do you know how much of a mess this will cause? That you're even out of the house?" He took another sip of his scotch. "The main reason why your lands and monies weren't seized after your classification as a 'magical creature' was in the hope you'd stay hidden. If you're out... they'll insist on it."

"You're assuming that they - and I think we both know who 'they' are - will be alive to take such action."

Amos looked hard at Harri. "You'll restart the war, then."

Harri shook her head. "It never stopped for me."

Amos sipped at his scotch. "I know, lad. That's why this hurts so much."

Minerva sighed; it was time to interject herself into the conversation. "Before you contemplate whether or not a 'magical creature' qualifies for treason charges, I think a bit of history is in order."

Amos raised an eyebrow in Minerva's direction; she chose that moment to pour her own drink. "The teaching of history of magic, to be honest, has been... limited in its scope. Much of the focus of the education here involves the timeframe from 1500 to about 1800, most notably the Goblin Wars going on during that time. As such, the historical knowledge of earlier time frames, most notably the time before Myrrdin's coming, is scarce among most of wizarding society."

Amos frowned. "Myrrdin? Are you saying..."

"Yes, I am," Minerva replied. "Or, at least, the modern equivalent. You see, before Myrrdin's coming millennia ago, all magic was performed with complex rituals. The very idea of 'spontaneous magic' - that is, magic facilitated with the use of portable foci such as wands or staves - was unheard of before Myrrdin's time. Myrrdin changed the way we thought of magic; he changed the way we did magic."

She looked over to Harri. "Potter is already changing the way we perform magic. It's going to change regardless of what you or me or Malfoy or anyone else does. The genie, if you will, is out of the bottle, and you can't put it back." She sighed. "The only question left is who will make history by helping this along - and who will be history by opposing it."

Amos sighed, and looked at the rest of his scotch. "I'll get the bill in the Wizengamot, and try to block any attempt to get at your accounts. Anything beyond that is up to you." His face hardened. "I shouldn't think such things, but I hope the bill doesn't pass. I'd prefer to watch Malfoy, Macnair, and Rowle fry for killing my son." He took a look at the scotch, and drained the rest. "Good luck, lad." He extended his hand out to her.

Harri accepted the hand. "And to you, sir." Diggory said his goodbyes, then left the office.

Minerva sighed, and took another sip of the scotch. "So what do you think?"

Harri looked down at her feet. "I think there will be war."

Minerva drained the rest of her glass, and grimaced. "I think so, too."

***

It's amazing how much a person could miss the sun.

Harri stared up into the sky, enjoying the daylight as it shone down on her. She could see magic, could feel magic, but this - the sunlight on her face - that was true magic. She spread her arms wide, letting the sun beat down on her, letting its warmth engulf her.

This was living. And... as scary as it seemed, she was ready to live again.

"Hey, Harri."

She took a deep breath. "Hey, Ginny." She looked over at Ginny's distended stomach. "How's the baby doing?"

"Tripping, I think," Ginny replied, her golden eyes sparkling. "He's been active ever since last night. I think he's trying to figure out what's going on."

Harri scratched her head. "Sorry about that."

"I asked for it," Ginny replied. "And there's a reason why I asked for it."

Harri tilted her head. "Why's that?"

Ginny sighed. "Do you know what it was like when you left? When you cut everyone off?" She shook her head. "You won the war, Harri. But you didn't win the peace." She looked up at the sky. "We all knew you were hurting. To be honest, Bill and Percy were surprised you came back at all. But your leaving left a hole, a vacuum. The surviving adults decided to forge a peace - one most of our generation didn't like. They basically cast you out of our world and tried to go on as though nothing had happened." She reached out behind Harri and wrapped her arms around Harri's waist. "But you're back, now. And it's time for you to finish the job you started."

Harri frowned. "But how? Kill a few remaining Death Eaters? Basically have the Ministry under my heel until they grow a brain?"

Ginny took a deep breath. "The reason why I touched you last night was so my baby could have a world I want him to live in. What sort of world do you want to live in?"

Harri paused. So many ways to answer that question. She wanted to be a guy in her world; she wanted to hold Ginny tight and never let go; she wanted to be the father of Ginny's baby. She'd lost a lot to this war - too damn much - and her first instinct was to lash out.

But the last couple of days had showed her something. There was something left to salvage. She wasn't sure what sort of world she wanted, but she knew a few things about it.

"I want a world where I can be Harri Potter - even if it means being Harriet Jane Potter." She wiped the tears from her eyes; admitting that had hurt. "I want someone to share my life with; I don't know if that's a man or a woman yet - I'd prefer a woman right now - but someone. I... I want a world where I don't have to keep looking behind my back, where Remus and Tonks don't have to live in France, where a talented muggleborn wizard like Hermione can actually get a job in the Ministry." Her eyes hardened. "No offense, Ginny, but I want to break the back of the pureblood power base. It's time for it to die."

Ginny chuckled, and worked her way around to face Harri. "Harri? I need to ask. What are you going to do if Diggory's bill passes?"

Harri stood up straight. "If it passes, I claim the vote of House Potter in the Wizengamot - and I'm going to use it."

"And if it fails?"

Harri took a deep breath. "If it fails, I treat it as a declaration of war. I've been looking over the voting records of the Wizengamot; I've also been looking over some of the people in the ministry. Basically... if the vote fails, a lot of people are going to wish it had passed."

Ginny bit her lip. "Will you kill them?"

Harri's jaw jutted forward. "The Death Eaters? Yes. Umbridge? Yes. Beyond that... there are acceptable lesser punishments that will work."

"Lesser punishments?"

Harri smiled. "Take a look at most 'normal' wizards and witches the next time you go into Hogsmeade. You've changed now; you can see their core, their power flows. What's to stop you from cutting off their magic?"

Ginny's mouth opened, then closed. "Everything's going to change, isn't it?"

Harri nodded. "Merlin, I hope so."

Ginny reached over and kissed her on the cheek. "Harri... do what you have to. Wizarding society needs a change. If you need our help, just call; we'll be there." She raised an eyebrow, and smiled mischievously. "And as for someone to share your life with... mind if I do some matchmaking?"

Harri stared at her skeptically. "Um... only if I get the right to say no - especially if it's a guy. Okay?"

Ginny nodded enthusiastically. "Okay." She then gave Harri a hug. "By the way... do you mind if I make a suggestion?"

Harri blinked. "Sure."

Ginny grinned. "Go with Gabrielle to France. See what it's like to live there - what it's like to live as a human being. It's going to take a few weeks for the bill to go to vote; it'd be better for you if you take that time and discover what it's like to be a human being again. As much as we love you, you can't do that here. Besides, it's been too long since you've seen Remus and Tonks. They should have some ideas as to what to do."

Harri looked aside at her. "Trying to get rid of me already?"

Ginny whispered in her ear. "Just trust me, okay?"

Harri thought about it for a moment. It would be good to get away for awhile. And, considering what she was planning, she needed a Marauder to bounce ideas off of. "Okay. I will."

She wasn't sure what to make of that twinkle in Ginny's eyes, though. A look like that usually meant mischief of the good kind. What did she have planned?

***

"Come in."

Amos Diggory could not help but marvel as Lucius Malfoy entered his office. Malfoy didn't so much walk as glide; he seemed to float from point to point like a ghost. Of course, such an ephemeral nature certainly explained how he was able to last as long as he had without a permanent stay in Azkaban. He always knew where to be and where not to be.

Idly, he wondered if this meeting was Lucius' last mistake. Lucius appeared to be in a bit of a huff, no doubt building steam for the righteous indignation to come.

"Minister, I'd like to speak to you about the bill you've presented before the Wizengamot."

Diggory raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Really?"

Malfoy slammed his copy of the bill on the desk. "How could you be so careless? To give a... thing... like that full wizarding rights? It's a menace to our society and should be put down, not given full rights!"

Amos took a deep breath. "Potter has done nothing to warrant treatment that is less than that of any witch or wizard. So her use of magic is different; that doesn't make her any less of a human being..."

"Are you blind, Minister?" Lucius asked incredulously. "Have you seen its glowing eyes? Its burning hatred? Its... unnatural magic?" He thrust a finger down onto Diggory's desk. "This monster kills. It killed nearly 50 people the last time it was allowed to run loose!" The finger pointed out to some unseen location. "That monster killed my son. Burned him to ash while he was in a completely defenseless position! And you want to give it rights? And you expect me - or the Wizengamot - to support it?!?" He slapped his hand against the paper of the bill. "Even worse is this language - 'and any other witch or wizard practicing the same style of magic.' Great Merlin, you don't mean to allow that thing to BREED, do you?"

In that moment, an old pain came to Amos. He'd heard self-serving arguments such as this before. His son was good at giving self-serving arguments while growing up. To Amos' everlasting pain, he never got a chance to see that son become a man. "Lucius, your son was a Death Eater -"

"Under the Imperius!" Lucius roared.

Amos snarled. "Your - son - was - a - Death - Eater! Imperius or no, your son was on the side of the devils! So was EVERYONE ELSE Potter killed that day!" He visibly deflated. "Lucius, we both lost our only sons to that war. The only way we're going to live beyond the war is by putting the past behind us. If we don't, it'll eat us alive." His gaze suddenly turned hard; while he'd gladly see Malfoy fry, he wouldn't do it without warning. "I urge you... let go of the past. If you don't, you may find yourself holding onto parts of the past you don't want."

Lucius stopped at those words. He took a step back, then raised an eyebrow. "Are you threatening me, Minister?"

For the first time in the meeting, Amos allowed himself to smile. "I'm the Minister of Magic, Lucius. Do I really need to threaten anyone?"

At those words, Lucius Malfoy deflated. "Quite." He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Minister. Potter represents a clear threat to us all. I can't allow her to run free. And I will urge all of my constituents to join me in opposing this bill."

Amos sighed. He'd tried; he'd genuinely tried. "I understand. See you on the floor, Lucius."

"And you, Minister," Lucius replied. He bowed, then left the office.

Amos Diggory looked over at the photo on his desk, one of happier times - he with his son, celebrating during the Quidditch World Cup. Those days seemed far away, now; his son's death the following spring had heralded a war. And now it looked as though war would come again.

***

After decades of being a double agent (or was it triple agent? He'd lost count years ago), Severus Snape had a good sense of when something was wrong.

To be honest, he tended to not pay attention to the world anymore. He didn't need to; Weasley Research paid him and paid him well to manufacture and research potions. He could get almost any materials he wanted in the span of a few hours (and usually a few minutes); the company didn't skimp when it came to spell components. He was getting paid to do what he loved; about the only problem was that it was Fred and George Weasley writing his paychecks.

Still, he had to admit they knew something about potion work. They accepted that they knew what they knew, accepted the limits of what they knew, and allowed him to do what he needed to beyond that.

But things were taking a genuinely odd turn. Hermione had come in unusually early, even for her; while he liked the look her sunglasses gave her, it was an odd fashion choice to say the least. Occasionally, he peeked in to see what she was working on; whatever it was, it was extremely high-level - and wandless. He thought about interrupting her research, but he knew better; when Hermione got in that mode, it was best to leave her be.

The strangeness had only increased a few hours later. Fred and George had come in - wearing similar sunglasses. He was about to ask how wild the party was when the twins practically ran into their workshop; while Severus couldn't make out the details of what was said, he knew that tone. They were making plans - big plans.

What scared him most was what the times reminded him of. It didn't feel like the standard, peaceful times. He'd seen the three of them work under normal circumstances; they were devoted to their art, true, but they were methodical, patient, and relatively calm. No, the urgency he was feeling smacked of the old days, when everyone knew Potter and Voldemort would be slugging it out in the end, and their colleagues were looking for the slightest edge in that war.

And... if they were on a war footing, then that spelled trouble for a great many people. Also, if history was any indication, there was only one person still alive who could cause that kind of trouble.

Severus resolved to sound out Fred and George once they slowed down. While he still had some misgivings for the idiot, he wouldn't have wished what Draco did on anyone. Also, as annoying as it was, he owed Harri a life debt; somehow, Harri had seen the scheme he and Dumbledore had hatched, and protected him after Voldemort's death. Outside of maybe a few potions, he doubted that Harri would need him; however, life could surprise him one more time...

***

Harri wasn't sure what to make of her taste buds.

Put simply, she was used to British food. The best food she'd had a chance to eat growing up was fish and chips; it wasn't like the Dursleys would spend their money to feed him well. British food at Hogwarts was good, if bland; the roast beef at Hogwarts was particularly good, as was the kidney pie.

But this... this was... something else. She'd stopped trying to count the different types of seafood available. The sauce had garlic, she could tell that much - but the garlic was only part of a greater set of spices. To her, it was vegetable beef stew, except fish was used instead of the beef, and the spices used were far beyond anything she could ever imagine.

"Like the stew, Harri?" Remus asked.

Harri raised an eyebrow. Remus looked better than she'd ever seen him; French life was clearly agreeing with him. The werewolf had a tan - something Harri would never have believed possible. "Not sure what to make of it, to be honest. It's good, that's for sure, but it's not like what I'm used to."

Behind Remus, an older French couple groaned. "Mon Dieu, Remus... 'stew'?" the woman scolded. "You refer to Bouillabaisse as 'stew'?"

Gabrielle chuckled. "Mama, you forget...Harri has not had experience with true cuisine. Given Harri's family, it would not surprise me if dog food was what she was 'used to'."

Remus groaned. "Oh, don't remind me. Once, as a joke, Sirius charmed my fork to make everything I ate taste like Alpo." His face twisted. "Sad thing was, it took me until dessert to figure out what had happened. Until then, I just thought the Hogwarts elves were slipping."

Everyone chuckled at that story. Madame Delacour lifted her glass. "To British cuisine - for all the laughter it brings us!"

The toast was answered; even those of British ancestry could smile at the joke. Harri looked at her friends, a feeling of sadness coming over her. "France has been kind to you, it seems," she said quietly. "I've never known Remus without him feeling like he had to watch over his shoulder. And Hagrid? I haven't seen you this happy since you were playing with Norbert!"

Hagrid blushed, and grabbed Madame Maxime's hand. "Well... love completes a person." Around the table, lovers found themselves reaching for their significant others. The Delacours linked hands almost instantly; Remus and Tonks required a second before linking up, as Tonks' clumsiness apparently extended to her hands.

Harri clasped her own hands together, trying to forget the emptiness there. "True enough," she said hollowly.

Tonks took a sip of her wine before looking intently at Harri. "Harri? I've heard rumors all over the place as to what you have planned. Already, the Wizengamot is in severe contention because of Diggory's bill; it's pretty obvious he wouldn't have put it out there without consulting you at the very least. Heck, if the Prophet's to be believed, Susan Bones was within inches of hexing Malfoy into oblivion!" She tilted her head to the side. "Not that that would be a bad thing..." She sighed. "I guess I'm wondering what you have planned. Unlike a certain Marauder who shall remain nameless -" she gave Remus' hand a squeeze before continuing, "- you don't do anything without a reason. You may not be Dumbledore with all his schemes, but you've got your agendas. What's up?"

Harri shrugged. "Why did you move to France?"

Tonks suddenly turned defensive. "Because we couldn't marry in Britain."

Harri grinned. "Neither can I - not with my status as a 'magical creature'."

"Don't I know that," Remus snorted. "Here, all I have to do is show up at Beauxbatons' dungeons by sundown. A small price to pay, if it means raising my wife and son." He gestured with his head. "There, I couldn't even get a job, let alone marry the woman I love."

Harri nodded slowly. "I don't know what sort of life I want, yet. Right now, I don't even have a good idea as to who I am. But... I guess I came to the point where I need to find out. I can't live as I have, shut off from the rest of the world."

"And if the bill fails?" Tonks asked.

Harri chose that moment to take off her glasses. She knew that gesture alone would be enough.

Hagrid let out a slow breath. "Y'know, ya could stay here if you want. I didn' have ta leave Britain; it was just a really good idea. Really worked out in the end, too." He shrugged. "There's also the States or Germany - I know Durmstrang or the Allen Academy would love to get their hands on you as a defense instructor..."

Harri sighed. "I... I don't know. I don't know if I could even teach anymore - my magic's experienced a serious overhaul since Hogwarts."

Olympe looked over at Gabrielle, then back at Harri. "Doesn't that make you more qualified than anyone? I have heard the Myrrdin tales as well, after all - and I am not blind."

Harri pursed her lips together. "I... To be honest, there is a part that finds it tempting. Leave Britain, leave the idiots behind." She shook her head. "The problem is what that implies. For me, it means giving up on Britain entirely - condemning it as hopeless. That means everything that everyone has fought for - my parents, Sirius, Professor Dumbledore - was for nothing."

"Never believe that, kit," Remus said fiercely; everyone blinked at the term. "You think James and Lily did what they did because of a piece of land? A society?" His dark eyes turned a shade of yellow. "They did it for you, Harri. They did it so you could live the life you deserve. Do you think they would care where that was?"

"No," Harri conceded. "But, if they were alive, they wouldn't have left you, either. They would have died for you - Sirius, too." She shook her head. "If I leave for good, wouldn't I be condemning all those I left behind as well? What you felt for my parents and for Sirius, I feel for the Weasleys. They're my family." The frown on her face felt like it was made of stone. "I can't leave them - especially now that I see what I've done."

"Do you mean the magic?" Gabrielle asked.

"No," Harri replied evenly. "I mean Lucius Malfoy in the Wizengamot. I mean Dolores Umbridge as head of the Department of Mysteries. I didn't finish the job - and it's cost a lot of people." Her teeth bared. "I have to go back. If I have to go back as an outlaw, then I will make my law - and a lot of people are going to die."

***

Rita Skeeter looked at the blank parchment in front of her. She glanced a few times at the notes she'd taken over the past couple of days, then back at the parchment.

When she was barely thirty years old, she had been a cub reporter for the Prophet - when she got to report on what she thought was the story of a lifetime. On the surface, the Potter clan had been killed, but the details revealed so much more when it was found that Voldemort had been defeated. She'd watched the painful process of healing, as Wizarding Britain tried to piece itself together, as father went against son, and brother against brother.

She'd been a sprightly forty-three, still in her prime, when she'd reported on the Quidditch World Cup and the Triwizard tournament. Good times, those; Krum had these muscles that rippled with each movement... delicious. Unfortunately, she'd also been hearing some rumors of unusual activity, even before the terrible aftermath of the World Cup. The shadows were moving, then, and it had some people in power concerned.

What followed were three of the worst years of her life. Being a war correspondent sucked; being a tool for the Voldemort regime sucked worse. Fudge and Scrimgeour had no sense of humor; a Death Eater's sense of humor could kill you. It had been a learning experience, but not a pleasant one. Potter's victory had been a relief; oddly enough, Potter's exile had also been a relief.

To be honest, she felt sorry for the kid. Potter had never asked for that war; it had been fought since long before she was born, and might still be going long after she's gone. Skeeter had even tried to spy on Grimmauld, once; Yaxley had showed it to her before his death, so she could write an editorial piece on the 'decrepit conditions' Harry had been living in. Harri had simply looked at her curiously, sighed, and went back to her reading. Honestly, that girl had the most boring exile a person could have.

But now... she could sense the rumblings. On paper, the bill Minister Diggory had proposed was a simple recognition of Potter's rights as a wizard; however, everyone in the Wizengamot and Ministry knew it for what it was: a referendum on postwar Britain. Malfoy and Macnair were trading favors left and right to get the bill defeated; Bones and Lovegood-Creevy were doing what they could to get it passed, but it looked as though it was going to fail. The mood among the Hogwarts staff was tense, as were the employees of Weasley Corp; the members of the Weasley clan were wearing sunglasses, likely in solidarity for their friend, as were several of the Hogwarts students.

If this was all that was going on, she might be mildly concerned. All of this, however, paled in comparison to one disturbing fact.

Grimmauld was empty.

In the parlance of her job, this meant the shadows were moving. It was 1994 all over again. She was over fifty, now; she was getting too old for this.

Sighing, she put quill to paper, and began to write. It was time the entire wizarding world knew what was going on.

***

Gabrielle watched as Harri walked along the Promenaide des Anglais, appreciating both the irony and the company. Harri simply walked along in silence, taking in the people around her, enjoying the breeze, all without a word. She knew Harri needed time to think; when Remus had suggested a walk along the coastline, this place proved to be too perfect.

This whole situation left her with more questions than she wanted. Normally, she was a modicum of control; her years at Beauxbatons had given her plenty of opportunity to practice, as she often had to refuse unwanted advances from colleagues. But Harri...

Harri was the one she wanted.

It was an odd thing to admit, on so many levels. Papa had been a strong man, had been an unspeakable in France's Ministry for years; his devotion to Mama had been as strong as his magic. It was perhaps appropriate that Fleur chose a literal beast of a man; while Bill had not changed into a werewolf as Remus did, his strength, loyalty, and ferocity, all augmented after his fight with Greyback, made him the ultimate protector and father.

Their strength and loyalty, however, paled next to this slip of a woman, walking along the beach and pondering her fate.

Harri - back when she was Harry - hadn't needed to save her during the Triwizard. He just had; he did it because it was the right thing to do. Of course, that reason is the only important one - that what is done be right - and so rare, as well; from that day, she was his. She'd kept up with his exploits as they both grew up, as he found himself in the center of a war.

When she'd heard about the end of that war, her heart broke. That someone would do something so unspeakable to Harri was terrifying. That someone so loving could be broken so horribly was beyond her imagining. Harri went into her exile, and no one blamed her for leaving; some wounds are too grave to be healed any other way. Gabrielle went on with her life, and finished her schooling, wondering if she'd ever find someone like Harri again.

And then, as she traveled in the United States... she heard the calling. She was needed in the British Isles. To her surprise, it didn't lead to Fleur's home, as she expected... but to a pub in one of Britain's wizarding villages.

That's when she knew Harri was back.

The only problem left (and this was something both Mama and Fleur had impressed on her) was timing. Even strong men break down; the weight of what they've done and what they have to do comes crashing down. Oftentimes that breakdown is a physical one; no doubt Bill's injuries solidified the relationship they had. She doubted Harri's breakdown would be a physical one, but she would be there when it happened.

The first sign was the trembling of her hands. Her head drooped slightly; after a moment, she saw that Harri's entire body started shaking. In a heartbeat, Gabrielle was in front of Harri; a moment later, Harri's face was buried into her shoulder.

"I don't know if I can do this... I don't..."

Gabrielle stroked the girl's hair softly. "Yes, you can... when you're ready."

"But... I don't... I don't want this war... I know it's coming, but I don't!"

"No one does, Harri," she whispered. "But some things have to be."

The last question said it all: "Why me, Gabi? Why me?"

Some questions just didn't have an answer. "I wish I knew, mon ami."

***

Andrew Malkin was not a happy camper.

He had reason to be upset. People tended to see the Wizengamot as a bunch of politicians getting on their soapbox, then voting whether or not a bill should be passed. To be honest, nothing could be further from the truth. The Wizengamot was a bazaar of political power, where votes were bought and traded for personal interests.

His own interest: business. He sought protection for the wizarding businesses of Britain, reducing tariffs for raw materials into the country such as spell components and wand woods, but increasing them for finished goods such as potions, wands - and especially magical clothing and armors. Competition for his wife's business was bad enough domestically without having to worry about international goods.

The problem was that this vote wasn't a normal vote. He really didn't care about whether Harri Potter was a wizard or a 'magical creature'. Potter wasn't known for being a clotheshorse; besides, considering she'd gone to school with Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, Potter was likely to go to them for clothes. By that right, he should probably vote against the bill, but again, he would see if the price was right. Problem was, this one vote had completely skewed the market when it came to votes. Everything had gone crazy.

The moment the pair walked in to his office, he frowned. He always recognized the creator of any magical haute couture; these two were wearing the competition. Even worse, these two were wearing sunglasses - the symbol of those supporting the bill - and his wife's business wasn't selling them. "Bones. Creevy. What can I do for you?"

Susan Bones took off her sunglasses, revealing soft brown eyes. "Representative Malkin. As you know, there's a vote upcoming as to the wizarding status of Harri Potter. We were hoping we could count on your vote."

Malkin nodded evenly. "My current plan is to vote against it."

Susan raised an eyebrow. "May I ask why?"

He shrugged. "I'm currently planning on sending a tariff bill to the Wizengamot, to increase the import costs of wizarding robes coming into Britain. Malfoy's group will support the bill if I vote with them, and will oppose it if I don't." He shrugged. "Unless you've got a lot more people in your pocket than Malfoy, you're not getting my vote."

Susan shook her head. "So you're basically selling out a good friend of mine for a tariff bill?"

"It's good for business," Malkin replied. "I realize you girls are new to this game," he paused for a moment at the frowns from them both, "and were freedom fighters of a sort, but this is the way it works. Representatives get together with their needs for Britain, and they trade their interests so that a consensus is formed."

Luna Lovegood-Creevy merely cocked her head to the side. "So votes get traded, and work gets done. Is that correct?"

Malkin nodded. "That is correct."

Luna smiled. "Tell me, Mr. Malkin. Did you do any voting in the fall of 1997?"

Malkin snorted. "Of course not! Voldemort had dismissed the Wizengamot during that time!" He looked sternly at the pair. "If you think a guilt trip is going to work..."

"Oh, nothing of the sort," Luna replied. "Just pointing out that, with your current plan of voting, you're basically seeking to insult, steal from, and imprison someone who destroyed Voldemort and many of his loyal followers - without breaking a sweat." A blond eyebrow raised above her sunglasses. "Most curious voting strategy, to be honest."

Malkin's eyes narrowed. "Is that a threat?"

Luna took off her own glasses, revealing her blue eyes. "I am merely examining the situation. The very fact that Diggory has proposed this bill, after four years, indicates that something has changed - likely at Harri's request. Also, if Rita Skeeter is right, Harri has left her own place of exile."

Malkin raised an eyebrow. "You haven't talked to her?"

The two of them shook their heads. "We haven't seen Potter since the war," Susan replied

Malkin sighed. "I see."

"I wonder about that," Luna retorted. "Everything I see points to this being a referendum not on Harri's legal status - but the legal status of the Wizengamot."

Malkin sputtered. "Y-You don't think -" He shook his head. "No. I'm not seeing it. Not Dumbledore's golden child."

Susan put her glasses back on, and sighed. "I understand. See you later, Representative."

Malkin nodded. "Good luck." He took a deep breath as the pair left his office. Merlin, he hated idealists; they seemed to think there was some form of entitlement to their cause. He'd make sure the Wizengamot wouldn't force Potter's hand, but wouldn't vote for the bill, either. That would keep everyone happy - the conservatives like Malfoy, the idealists like Bones, even Potter - and, of course, himself. And that was what good government was all about - keeping everyone happy.

***

"Classe rejete."

Remus Lupin set down his chalk, then turned to his assistant for the day. "Good to see you haven't lost your touch."

Harri shrugged. "Well, for these demonstrations, you're telegraphing your moves pretty well. With an advantage like that, even a first-year could do a good job of dodging."

"Well, the point is to show the concept, not necessarily to become the best." He smiled. "Oftentimes, first step to winning a fight is being able to know something is possible. Your dad was really good at that; he would find ways to win no one else had even considered." He smiled. "The first time the Death Eaters tried to get at him was in Diagon Alley. He ended up beating them by luring them into Madame Malkin's; he animated her store to the point that the Death Eaters were mummified in the fabrics!"

Harri chuckled. "Yeah, Death Eaters weren't known for their innovative tactics." She raised an eyebrow. "I take it Mom was pretty tough in a fight, too..."

Remus snorted. "A lesson that, if you haven't learned by now, you will. When men fight, they tend to observe certain codes of honor. When women fight? Those codes tend to go out the window. Yeah, your mom was tough in a fight - absolutely scary, to be honest. She knew there'd be no quarter in those fights - and when she fought, she was stone cold."

Harri smiled at the news, though the smile seemed forced; Remus tried to read what was going on inside. The old Harry was easy to read; the new Harri reminded him of himself once upon a time - haunted and hunted. "What's on your mind?"

Harri sighed. "Too much."

Remus chuckled. "Well, that narrows it down some. Is it about Britain?"

Harri shook her head and chuckled. "No. In a way, I wish it was that easy." She bit her lip. "How much do you know about the Delacours?"

Outwardly, Remus remained calm; inwardly, Remus was celebrating. "Any reason why you're asking?"

Harri crossed her arms. "Gabrielle... has expressed interest in exploring a relationship."

"Ah." This time, Remus didn't bother to hide his smile. "And the problem is..."

"The fact that I have boobs?" Harri replied. "That I have a negative-length hardon?"

"Oh, is that all," Remus chuckled. "Three nights out of the month, I'm not even the same species as my wife." He moved next to Harri, and leaned against his desk. "Harri, I don't have any solutions. All I can say is that, if she's saying yes, it's not necessarily a crime to agree." He shrugged. "Unless you're in Britain, of course." His face suddenly turned serious. "Harri, we're scarred men. Yes, men. We tend to sell ourselves short when it comes to relationships, because we wonder how a woman could ever want us. It basically takes a woman strong enough to knock us over the head and drag us to bed before we figure out we can get into a relationship." He blinked as he saw Harri blush. "She didn't... did she?"

Harri's face twisted, as though not sure how to make her mouth work. "Um... it wasn't anything sexual... I was having a nightmare, and Gabi crawled into bed with me."

"And that, I think, says it all," Remus replied. He made a mental note to get Tonks to talk to Gabrielle; while the relationship was a good one, Gabrielle needed some advice first. "Harri, I don't think anyone here will hold it against you; Apolline is half-veela, Hagrid and Olympe are half-giant, and me, well..." He shrugged. "Give it a shot. If it doesn't work out, it doesn't work out. But you're going to be just as miserable if you don't try."

Harri looked down at her feet for a long moment, then nodded. "Thanks, Remus." She grinned lopsidedly. "Um... I don't mean to be rude, but could you tell me a little more about my mom?"

Remus blinked at the question. "Yeah, I can do that." He grabbed Harri around the shoulders. "Come on; the chefs here make a coffee that's to die for."

***

Lucius Malfoy snarled.

France. The ruddy bitch was in France. Apparently enjoying herself if the intel was any indication, rutting with that Veela-bred Delacour. It fit, really it fit; there she was across the Channel, lording it up with half-Veela, half-giants, werewolves, and - worse - frogs.

To be honest, he was of two minds about the news. Harri was enjoying herself as a guest of Madame Maxime at Beauxbatons; after what she'd done to his son, he wanted her to suffer. If it was within his power, he'd see Potter roasting over a spit. That said, a perfect opportunity presented itself - one he couldn't afford to let go.

It was a simple compromise. The moderates in the Wizengamot, while allowing Potter's exile, refused the appropriation of Potter's assets as should be called for, feeling it would provoke her to war. However, with Potter away from Britain, some decisive action could be taken.

The proposal was simple: Exile Potter. Never to be allowed back in Britain. In exchange, Potter's assets would be purchased at generous rate by the Ministry, and an additional severance would be given. The Ministry would be magnanimous in its tyranny. The galleons would be delivered in person to Potter, so that the message would be loud and clear.

Enjoy your life, but enjoy it away from the British Isles.

Lucius smiled. If victory could not be won on the battlefield, perhaps it could be purchased. Not wasting any time, Lucius began drafting the counter-proposal to Diggory's bill. With luck, the ruling would be law by the end of the week.

***

Sometimes it just didn't pay to be good.

Annie had kept her sunglasses on; it helped that the glasses became a fashion statement of support for Potter. Her roommates knew the truth, of course, but they weren't telling; Gryffindors had been in a siege mentality against Slytherin for the last decade. She faked the wandwork in her classes, with the understanding and blessing of the instructors; potion work took a touch of improvisation, as the stirring with magic did have an effect, but she adapted.

And, despite every instinct she had to go medieval on the snakes, she'd held back.

The Slytherins had been particularly surly of late. They took exception to the sunglass mafia, as many of their families opposed the Potter bill; they'd taken to transfiguring the glasses opaque when they were in a good mood, and less pleasant actions such as the bat-bogey hex when they weren't.

It didn't bother her - usually. After all, it wasn't like their magic could affect her any. It had proven disturbing, to be honest; they suspected any future healing on her part would be almost exclusively through potions, as charms and transfiguration spells were simply absorbed without change.

Her friends weren't as lucky. At the moment, Charlie Jordan, poor firstie that he was, was vomiting slugs at a prodigious rate; she could see the generation of the slugs inside him, and nearly started vomiting herself. In an instant, she was down by his side; she silenced the slug generation portion of the spell, then added her own touch to purge the slugs from his system.

A moment later, Charlie's vomiting increased, then stopped. Her eyes turned up to the laughing crowd of Slytherins. They were so weak; their cores looked weak, almost atrophied. She doubted even a third of them would survive, if they were changed like she was. "Gee, how brave of you, to gang up and attack a first-year student. Why don't you pick on someone who can defend themselves - like me?"

Tiberius Rowle, a greasy dark-haired Slytherin in her year, simply chuckled. "Yeah, right, Longbottom. What would be the point? We all know you've got a talisman hidden somewhere on you. Have fun, Jordan!" Chuckling, they turned to walk away.

They were right, in their own way. Dammit, they were right. There was no point to them attacking her; if she was in the area, she could dismantle any magic they sent her way. She found herself wanting her friends to be strong, like her. They were good wizards; they didn't deserve to be abused like this.

It was at that point that she felt the shock - that electric shock she'd last felt in the Three Broomsticks. She looked down in amazement at Charlie, who was wiping the slime from his mouth.

He looked at her strangely. "What was that?" Charlie asked.

Annie looked worried for a moment. "Come on. I think we need to see Nurse Pomfrey."

***

Amos Diggory sat alone in his office, pondering the drink on his desk, and trying to forget what was going on.

The Wizengamot had decided to stay in session until the vote was done. Lucius' bill was going to pass, he already knew; it had all the markings of a political success. The Wizengamot would see itself coming out smelling like a rose; their offer was generous while taking care of the Potter problem once and for all. No doubt the Saturday edition of the Daily Prophet would have the representatives patting themselves on the back until their arms broke.

Which, of course, was why he was so sure it would blow up in their faces. Politics was a funny thing; oftentimes a law or regulation would cause the opposite result from what was intended. Higher taxes in many cases meant less revenue, not more; limitations on trade to to protect business always came at the cost of other business. The Wizengamot had sought to buy peace from someone who could not be bought - and thus were going to taste only war. His only hope was that Harri really had taken a liking to France, and didn't really feel like killing.

He heard the knock on the door. "Who is it?"

"It's us, sir. Susan Bones and Luna Lovegood-Creevy."

Amos sighed. He knew what was coming. "Come in."

For that moment, Amos was grateful Luna was Luna. The glasses were off; Susan's glare looked somewhere between homicide and, well, homicide. But Luna still had that slightly spaced-out smile, as always.

"Sorry we couldn't stop the war," Luna said.

Amos nodded grimly. "Harri's going to roast the Wizengamot alive, isn't she?"

Susan shook her head. "I don't know. The Harry I knew would have been fair. He was brutal in a fight if he needed to be, but he was fair."

"Fair is such a funny term," Luna replied. "How many of us would be dead in a fair world?"

Amos snorted. "We'd probably all be dead." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. "I'm probably going to get similar opinions from others, but since you're here I thought I'd ask you first. If you were Harri, what would you do?"

"Finish the job," Luna replied.

Amos gulped. "You know, I think I prefer it when you talk about nargles." He took a sip of his scotch. "Anything more specific?"

Susan frowned. "I'm not sure," she replied. "I'd bet the house on there not being enough wizards present to hold a quorum on Monday. Harri's going to put the fear of God into them - so much so that many will go on vacations for the next few weeks." She looked beyond Amos' desk, to the darkness outside. "No. Harri's learned from the best. She's going to wait until we least expect it - then strike."

Luna grinned at those words; the very act sent chills down Amos' spine.

After a moment, Amos sighed. "You know, now that you mention it, vacation does sound like a good idea. Yes, I think a vacation is a wonderful idea." He shrugged. "Now that I think on it, I have a mission for the two of you."

"A mission?" Susan asked curiously.

Amos rose, and looked out his window at the night sky. It truly was beautiful out; perhaps he would have to go broom flying later. "My primary task as Minister of Magic is to protect the witches and wizards of this nation. Due to the recent Wizengamot bill passed, I can no longer succeed in my charge, save in one respect." He turned around, wrote quickly on a paper and pad, and sealed it with the Minister's seal. "Representative Bones, Representative Lovegood-Creevy, I give you the following task: Go to Beauxbatons. Talk to Harri. Try to talk her out of it; if you fail, try to minimize the bloodshed. Some casualties will occur; I have no doubts as to Malfoy's approaching demise, and suspect I will be needing a new head of the Department of Mysteries shortly. But please... steer her away from killing en masse."

"Harri never killed en masse," Luna replied. "You can ask Severus."

Amos nodded. "And hopefully she won't start." He handed Susan the parchment. "Go. And good luck."

The two of them left his office, leaving Amos alone once more. He looked at the remains of his drink, then at the bottle; at the moment, that much alcohol didn't seem nearly enough.

***

Harri had missed Saturdays like this.

Once upon a time, back when magic had seemed a lot more innocent, Harri had been a Hogwarts student. Most Hogwarts students spent their weekdays in class, of course. But weekends - Saturdays and Sundays - were another matter entirely. She could get up at any hour, stroll around the grounds, maybe play a game of quidditch -

Her eyes widened at the thought, then she blushed. She hadn't used a broom since she'd changed.

She stretched languorously, then frowned. Someone was knocking at her door. "Coming!" She picked up a robe, threw it around herself, then walked to the door.

Madame Maxime was on the other side; the moment Harri saw her face, her heart started pumping. "Harri? Something's happened. You might want to get down here."

She quickly put her sunglasses on. "What's wrong?"

Maxime pursed her lips. "I'm not sure if I should be the one to tell you. All I will tell you is that things have come to a head."

Harri rushed down to Beauxbatons' main hall, to an odd sight, one that had attracted the attention of the students already awake. A contingent of goblins sat near the entrance to the hall, all guarding a significant hoard of money, jewels, books, and magical artifacts. Harri looked at the pile of money, and suddenly got a bad feeling.

"Harriet Jane Potter?" the smallest of the goblins asked.

"Yes?"

He bowed with a flourish. "I am Ragnok, a representative of Gringotts. I have been instructed by the British Ministry of Magic to deliver this to you. Contained here are the entire contents of your vault - its monetary contents as well as its material contents - as well as the following: An additional 311,100 galleons for the purchase of 12 Grimmauld Place, 25,720 galleons for a deserted plot of land in Godric's Hollow, 93,300 galleons for the purchase of 17 Tammer Lane, 155,500 galleons for the purchase of 5 Burr Road, and 664,000 galleons for the purchase of 24 Morning Way. The Ministry of Magic has also included an additional 1,000,000 galleons upon the receipt of the following message. Shall I read it to you?"

Harri looked around. Already a crowd had developed - after all, few people were ever likely to see this much gold. "Please do. In fact, I would prefer that you announce it to the world."

Ragnok coughed once, then looked at the parchment. "Very well. Please let it be known that, on the ninth of March, 2002, we, the British Wizengamot, in conjunction with the Ministry of Magic, hereby banish Harriet Jane Potter from our realm. While we view this move as necessary to the security of our society, we do not do this with malice. We therefore send Ms. Potter off with all of the contents contained in the Potter and Black family vaults, have purchased Ms. Potter's lands at fair market value, and have included an additional 1,000,000 galleons so that Ms. Potter may live comfortably for the rest of her days. Gringotts has been assigned to clean out the contents of the properties Ms. Potter previously owned; this task will be completed and the contents delivered to a location of Ms. Potter's choosing within 48 hours."

Ragnok stopped for a moment to catch his breath. "The Wizengamot and Ministry of Magic urge Ms. Potter to take this generous offer and live a prosperous life away from the British Isles. If this offer is not accepted and Ms. Potter returns to Britain for any reason, then all of the resources of the Ministry of Magic shall be dedicated to her destruction while here. Should you have any concerns regarding business in the British Isles, you are hereby directed to the nearest British Embassy to conduct your business through diplomatic channels. Signed, Dandelo Gladden, Interim Chief Warlock, Wizengamot." He rolled the parchment back up and handed it to Harri. "I have also been instructed to bring back any message you may have for the Wizengamot and Ministry. Do you have a message for them, or for any member of those bodies?"

Harri took a step back, stunned. Behind her, she could hear Remus growl in anger. What caught her attention most, though, was a soft touch to her shoulder. "Harri?" Gabrielle asked.

Harri closed her eyes and counted to ten to calm herself. After this, she looked over at Ragnok. "Ragnok, are you authorized to send messages to any other bodies in Britain? Also, are you authorized to send other materials, including money?"

"Messages outside of those to the Ministry of Magic and the Wizengamot may be achieved for a modest fee."

Harri looked at the pile behind Ragnok. "I think I'm good for it," she said dryly.

Ragnok pulled out a quill and parchment. "Very well. What messages would you like to send?"

"I wish the following message to go to the Wizengamot and Ministry of Magic. Also, I would like copies to be sent to the Daily Prophet, the Quibbler, and to the French Ministry of Magic, that they may be informed of the situation." Harri took a deep breath. "The message reads as follows: Your declaration of hostilities has been received. Your forced annexation and invasion of my lands has been noted. Your attempt to placate me with money has been laughed at. It was not - and has never been - about money; it has always been about acting with honor toward the witches and wizards of Great Britain. Your government has failed miserably in this regard, and it is with both sadness and satisfaction that I shall wipe it from the earth. Sincerely, Harri Potter." She sneered. "The Potter and Black monies I shall keep, for they are mine; however, the additional money given to me from the 'sale' of my properties is to be returned to the Ministry, as is the additional one million galleons." She took a deep breath. "Give the following message to any individual or company that purchases the above properties: You live on land illegally seized. I suggest you seek to have the land purchased annulled, for I shall evict you on my return. Any violence to forcibly take my land from me will be met with deadly force."

For the first time, Ragnok smiled. "I see." His ears perked up. "There also remains the matter of the furniture and other belongings currently located in those properties. Do you wish them to remain there, or do you wish us to move them to another location?"

Harri frowned. "I really don't want to move the stuff, but it would be safest to do so." She turned and looked at Olympe. "Madame Maxime? Do you have enough room to store some furniture and books for awhile?"

Olympe nodded regally. "I believe we can accommodate you."

"Good. Ragnok, unless there's a serious change in the Wizengamot by Monday, have the furniture and personal items sent here."

"Very well. As for the contents of the Potter and Black vaults... if you desire, there is a Paris branch of Gringotts. Is it acceptable for us to open a vault for you to store the remainder of the money and goods here?"

Harri nodded. "That will be acceptable."

Ragnok bowed to her. "Is there anything else you wish of me?"

"You wouldn't be able to deliver Lucius Malfoy's head on a pike to me, would you?" Harri smiled.

Ragnok snorted. "As delicious as that possibility sounds, Ms. Potter, that would be a violation of the current Goblin treaties. However, I wish you success in gaining that prize for yourself. Good day." With that, the goblins loaded the galleons back on carts for transport from the castle.

Harri took a step back, then looked around. Hagrid and Olympe, Remus and Tonks, Gabrielle... the family that could be there was. Hagrid coughed once, then fixed a stern gaze on Harri.

"War, Harri?"

Harri nodded slowly. Her jaw felt as though it was made of stone. "War. And peace. I'm not running away again."

***

They'd started coming that morning. The Weasley Army had come while the goblins were loading up the gold; the only ones not there were Arthur and Molly, as they got to spoil their grandkids rotten. The survivors of the DA come quickly after that - Lee Jordan, Ollie Wood, Lavender Brown, Parvati and Padma Patil, Seamus Finnegan, Cho Chang, Dean Thomas.

Harri smiled. It felt good to have her friends back.

Of course, the "adults" eventually came. Severus Snape remembered what the Weasley twins had not, and brought a generous supply of healing potions. Pomona Sprout and Filius Flitwick came shortly thereafter; they apologized for Minerva not coming, but everyone knew that her place was at Hogwarts.

The last to come were the authorities. France sent an official to ask that Harri leave, as the exile effectively voided his visa. They gave her forty-eight hours to leave France.

Harri's response: "I don't plan on being here that long."

There was good news from the French, though - Harri wasn't the only one being removed. Some things are considered bad form for any country; as the British had effectively forced its problems on the French, the British ambassador was being expelled as well, and would not be reinstated until Potter's legal status was restored. Most of the other nations were considering the same move - something about "cause bellus" or something like that. Harri didn't understand the details, but the basic idea was that Britain tried to force its problems onto other nations, which is a big no-no.

And then there were the British representatives.

"Hello, Harri," Luna smiled. Behind her, Colin Creevy waved, and pulled out his camera.

Harri blinked at the flash of the camera, and reached out to hug Luna. "Hey, guys." He looked back at the crowd, a mischievous grin on her face. "Check. Does she have a knife in my back?"

Luna chuckled in her grasp. "It is good to see you are you again."

Harri broke the hug, then looked at herself questioningly. "Um... what do you mean, Luna?"

Luna's smile didn't waver. "I had thought that Draco had taken you away forever. You're back." She pointed to Harri's chest. "In here."

Harri chuckled and nodded in understanding, then looked at the other person entering the room. "Susan?"

Susan shook her head. "You certainly know how to make an impression, Harri." She raised an eyebrow. "Nice outfit, by the way."

Harri grimaced. Her dress was a Brown and Patil original, deep red, with gold embroidery. The skirt of the dress was full and reached almost to her calves; the bodice showed plenty of cleavage. A black-with-gold jacket and black knee-high boots completed the ensemble, bringing some dignity to the affair. She'd balked at the outfit at first, but Parvati and Lavender, along with Gabrielle, had insisted; she'd only agreed after testing the outfit to see if it would restrict movement. "Yeah, yeah... seems Parvati has been expecting this to come for awhile, so she decided I needed an outfit when I came back. Not sure about the skirt and all, but it is more comfortable than I expected." She lifted a foot. "The heels take some getting used to, though."

Susan grinned. "They usually do." She handed Harri her credentials. "Officially, we're on a diplomatic mission from the Minister."

Harri's eyes narrowed. "What does Diggory want?"

Susan grimaced. "The vain hope that you really like France." She looked around at the crowd. "I'll pretend I didn't see..." She gulped on seeing the many glowing eyes staring back at her. "Oh, dear. That's why the sunglasses, wasn't it? It wasn't as a political statement... but to hide what's happened!"

Harri nodded. "When I first left Grimmauld, I went to the Three Broomsticks, and touched a few people there; their magic... attuned to their bodies and souls, like me. It took some experimentation to be able to control it; that's why there are so many Weasleys like that."

Susan put a hand to her forehead. "Oh, boy... this changes things. You're going to invade, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am," Harri replied, her face grim. "This time, I'm not running away from the victory. I'm going to finish it."

"I rather figured that." She blushed slightly, and tilted her head. "What do you want me to do?"

Harri raised an eyebrow. "What happened in the vote?"

Susan snarled in disgust. "They basically treated Luna and me like children. 'Oh, you poor, naive things' they'd say. 'You have no idea how the Wizengamot works', they'd say. Their method of operation was basically to buy and sell votes. And, well, Malfoy has a lot more money than I do."

"Any worth saving?"

"Of course," Susan replied. "Over a quarter of the Wizengamot voted against the exile order; some people wouldn't be bought by Malfoy." She shrugged. "I can give you a list, if you like."

"That won't be needed," Harri smiled. "Just so you know, the French have cancelled my visa - which means I have to leave by Monday."

"Well, in theory, the Wizengamot's supposed to meet on Monday..." Susan supplied.

Harri shook her head. "That's what everyone expects. I have to be out of here by Monday, and the Wizengamot's supposed to meet on Monday, and everyone's going to go to work in the Ministry on Monday. Which is why I have to get there early."

"Early?"

"Early," Harri replied. "Which leaves me with only one more question."

Susan raised any eyebrow.

"Are you with me?" Harri asked, her hand glowing and extended in Susan's direction. She tilted her head. "Sorry about the special effects; I thought it better to illustrate what I meant."

Susan took one look at the hand, then grasped it; she jumped as she felt an electric shock pass through her hand. Harri nodded approvingly. "Come on. We've got an invasion to prepare."

***

John Dawlish was not happy.

It was Saturday night; he should be at home asleep or enjoying life with friends at a pub, not guarding an empty building! This was useless. There was no way that Potter was going to attack on a Saturday night. No sane person would start a war when everyone else was off partying; there would be no army to fight!

Madness, he decided. He took a swig of his canteen, and sighed. This was all the Wizengamot's fault, he decided. They were off on vacation, or sitting cozy in their manors, sipping their firewhiskey and maybe reading some tome. They were safe; they had nothing to worry about. He and his colleagues, on the other hand, were sitting out in the cold, waiting for what had to be nothing.

That's when he saw the eyes.

He'd been far from the Ministry when Voldemort had been killed, but he'd heard enough of what others had seen. Harri had been a force of nature that night; dozens of Death Eaters had tried to curse her, but it had no effect. What had gotten everyone's attention were her eyes. The devil's eyes, survivors called it, eyes that glowed with an unholy light, eyes that burned all before it in fire.

That had been one pair of eyes. At the moment, he was seeing dozens of the glows. He pulled out his wand and looked to the others. "Take cover." He then stood up and pointed his wand at the group. "As a duly appointed representative of the Ministry of Magic, I hereby order you to stand down and disperse!"

A brilliant blue set of eyes stepped forward; Dawlish gasped. "You know who I am, correct?" Luna asked.

Dawlish nodded. "Of course, Madame, but I am still ordered not to let anyone into the building until Monday."

A second person stepped out of the shadows; Dawlish gulped. "You know who I am?" Harri asked.

Dawlish coughed. "Harri Potter," he squeaked. "By the order of the Wizengamot and the Ministry of Magic, you are under arrest. Stand down, or we will fire!"

Harri grinned. Dawlish shuddered; her smile made Luna's look sane. "Dawlish, are you sure you want to do that?"

Dawlish grimaced. "No, I don't want to do this. I don't like what the Wizengamot did to you. But I have my duty. You are under arrest."

Harri shrugged. "I suggest you lie down now, Auror Dawlish." She looked behind him, to the other Aurors. "That goes for the rest of you as well."

The last thing Dawlish saw was the flare of those green eyes...

***

Harri looked out at the Wizengamot assembly from the central area. The Wizengamot floor reminded Harri of one of the larger classrooms in Hogwarts. It had to be a politician's dream, and it certainly qualified. It was designed to be a stage, with a central area for prisoners and presentations; anyone who had the floor had a floor on which to present their views. Ringing the stage were desks for the Wizengamot to use, as well as a gallery for visitors.

She could tell something else by its structure: There was another purpose to the floor. Once upon a time, disagreements between wizards were settled with blood. The round stage facilitated trial by combat; blood was spilled on these grounds.

Harri looked around. She could see the lines of magic that ran through the building, the tangle of enchantments that held the Wizengamot together. They all seemed to go to one central location...

Harri smiled, and pulled on the strings. A moment later, a large parchment rested in her hands; wax impressions of seals were tied to the bottom of the parchment. Harri carefully laid the parchment on a particularly large desk (Crouch senior's old desk, now that she thought about it), and looked at the find.

Hermione walked over to her and gasped. "Harri? Is that..."

"The Hogsmeade Charter. The document that first guaranteed the rights of wizards in Britain, and formed the body known today as the Wizengamot." She snorted derisively. "Of course, it was done more to combat the ritual magic of the Celts, but what can you do?" She started to pick up the seals. "Take a look at the seals and the names. Francois Malfoy. John Dumbledore. Arcturus Black. Alecto Lovegood." She stopped, and picked up one seal. "Michel Potter." Her face turned grim. "This contract - this magical binding contract - is what holds the Ministry and Wizengamot together."

Hermione gulped. "What are you planning to do?"

"Take a look at the magical lines," Harri whispered. "What do you see?"

Hermione bit her lip. "There's... a faint one from that seal to you; it looks faded, though, as though no longer active. Lovegood's is still strong, as is the one from..." she looked at the document, then to the seal, "Andrew Tannenbaum to Susan." She raised an eyebrow. "The others go elsewhere... to the other active members?"

Harri's eyes twinkled, and she touched the Tannenbaum seal; a moment later, Susan giggled, and looked around. "Who did that?"

Harri smiled and raised her hand. "I did. Sorry; just wanted to try something quick." She moved to the center of the chamber. "Could everyone please take a seat?"

Susan and Luna moved to their desks, while the others went to the visitor's gallery; Harri shook her head, and pointed to the Wizengamot desks. "No. You sit there."

She grinned at the wide eyes that came in response. The statement was made: they would be the power. Slowly, each of them took a Wizengamot desk. Harri looked around at the stage, absorbing the moment.

"It should have ended here four years ago," she said; she couldn't make herself raise her voice too loudly. "We should have finished the job; the Death Eaters should have met their fate, and we should have gone on with our lives. I went away too soon; I was hurting too much, and it cost a lot of people." She shook her head. "The system is broken; we all recognize that now. Unless we fix what wizarding society has become, there will be another purity war decades down the road. It's time... time that those responsible face up to what they've done. No more pureblood or halfblood or halfbreed or muggleborn." She touched one of the seals on the document. "And no more selling wizards out for political expedience."

She let her magic flare.

***

"Olympe!"

Olympe Maxime caught herself before falling as she passed through the Floo, careful not to break the wine bottle in her hand. "Minerva. How are you doing?"

"I feel like the cat who's caught the canary." She grinned. "And you?"

Olympe pondered for a moment. "As the Americans say... ten feet tall?"

Minerva chuckled at the joke, then gestured to a large recliner-style chair. "Please, sit." Olympe handed the bottle to Minerva, then relaxed in the chair.

"The wine should be allowed to breathe for a few minutes before we drink it," she drawled. Minerva nodded; with a wave of her wand, the cork popped from the bottle. Minerva snatched the cork before it landed on the desk, then settled into her chair.

"So." Minerva twirled the cork in her fingers.

"So," Olympe agreed. Searching for something to say, she looked around. "You know, Minerva, you really need to redecorate. I don't think the place has changed since Albus was here."

Minerva shrugged. "It hasn't - not really. Oh, I've made a couple of changes to help with my experiments and to make it a little more comfortable for a cat, but overall I haven't really changed much around here." She sighed. "I guess I've never really thought of this place as mine. Oh, I'm headmaster, make no mistake - but part of me still feels like this is Albus' office."

Olympe looked at her sideways. "I don't know if you'll have that luxury anymore."

"Tell me about it," Minerva replied. "I've been working with Neville Longbottom on some ideas as to what to do about teaching beyond all this. The problem he sees is that he knows he's limiting himself because of what he's done before; he has a tendency to try to do the same things he did before, even down to the phantom wand movements, in order to cast a spell." Minerva bit her lip. "The real problem, I think, may be balancing two opposing views: belief and safety. We need to keep students from thinking that something is impossible, while at the same time making sure the students don't overextend themselves magically." She looked out of the window behind her. "The school Albus knew is fading away - because his kind of wizard is fading away. Everything is becoming obsolete - or, worse, counterproductive." She grinned maliciously. "Including the whole pureblood nonsense. Many purebloods - the ones whose ancestors weren't careful about inbreeding - are too weak magically to change."

Olympe nodded slowly. "You know, when I was younger and this whole pureblood activism was just starting to gain strength, I always found their view strange. They were literally cutting themselves off from any growth in magical ability. To me, magic was growth and life; to deny that... seemed the height of foolishness." She shrugged. "Of course, I was a firebrand, then, desperate to prove a half-giant could be just as powerful a wizard as any pureblood."

Minerva frowned. "Me... I'm not sure. To be honest, I wasn't paying attention. I was a good student, but it was more out of habit than anything else. I expected I would marry Ian, enjoy a quiet life, maybe raise a few noisy children; I never expected I'd be a teacher, let alone Headmistress." She gave a wistful smile; with a gesture, the bottle levitated into her hand. "That all changed when Grindlewald's men attacked Hogsmeade. I always wondered if I could have saved Ian... if I'd been stronger." She poured two glasses of the wine; one she levitated to Olympe, the other she brought to her lips. "I was only seventeen at the time - and it destroyed everything I'd ever dreamed of. I know students are afraid of me, that I work them hard; I just don't want them to ever know what it's like to wonder if they could have been a little stronger - or worse, never get a chance to find out." The frown seemed etched onto her face. "I don't need to understand the view of pureblood fanatics. I just need to make sure that my kids will never have to worry about it." She raised her glass, her face twisted into a broken smile. "To the future - and those who didn't get a chance to see it."

Olympe raised her glass in response, her voice suddenly eluding her control. "Amen, Minerva. Amen." She took a second to ponder her next words. "I just hope we have the strength to see the future through."

***

Dandelo Gladden, Interim Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, was technically in his element. He stood on the debating floor of the Wizengamot; around him were the faces of dozens of wizards, all hung on his every word. It was a cause he believed in, one he firmly wanted to see succeed.

The only problem was that the cause, in this case, was his life. He'd literally been transported from his bed; as such, he was dressed in only his nightshirt. To make matters worse, the person in charge was someone who had some serious issues with the Wizengamot. He literally had to argue for his life in front of someone his Wizengamot had ostracized.

Hence, why he chose his method. He wasn't planning on convincing Harri; he was planning on convincing the people Harri listened to and respected.

"Ms. Potter, esteemed wizards and witches. You meet here with passion and with anger for what has happened to your friend and colleague. No doubt you wish for blood; no doubt you wish for vengeance. If so, then I gladly take it." He swallowed. "But I beg of you. Do not take your vengeance out on the Wizengamot as a whole!"

Gladden began pacing around the ring, forcing himself to look into their glowing eyes - a predator's eyes, he thought. "The Wizengamot was formed centuries ago - indeed, by several of your ancestors - so that the wizards and witches of Britain may come together and speak with one voice. For centuries the Wizengamot has been the voice of our society, allowing its distinguished wizards to come together and guide wizarding from its tumultuous childhood and into maturity. It was members of the Wizengamot that founded Hogwarts and set up the Ministry of Magic. It was the Wizengamot that signed the treaty that ended the Goblin Wars. It was the Wizengamot that negotiated with its mundane brethren to establish the Secrecy Laws, so that we would not be wiped out by non-wizarding society. We came together to act in the best interests of wizarding society."

He smiled as an idea came to him. "Consider what happened when that voice was silenced, when Voldemort came into power. Hundreds of innocent wizards and witches were killed; those that survived were tortured, abused, and cowered into submission. Do you really want to go back to those days - even those days with a more benevolent autocrat?"

Gladden took one last, deep breath. "I know democracy is not perfect, wizards and witches. No system can be perfect; sometimes the system fails. And I readily admit that it failed in the case of Ms. Potter here." He gulped. "Please. I beg of you. Keep this institution alive." He took a deep breath. "I await your decision."

Harri raised an eyebrow. "You failed to answer the question, Gladden. I didn't ask for a defense of the Wizengamot. Make no mistake, the Wizengamot will survive in some form or another. What I asked you was a simple question." Her eyes burned. "You voted 'yes' to Malfoy's bill. Why?"

Gladden gulped. He'd hoped to get out of the situation by playing the sacrificial lamb; it looked like that would be impossible. "Because it seemed like the best solution to the problem - the problem being your existence, Ms. Potter. We would be generous and we would be honorable - but our society could not abide you in it anymore. You had grown beyond us." He shook his head. "I work for the betterment of British wizarding society - I always have, and I always will. That was the basis for my decision. For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

The group began to talk amongst themselves - no doubt deciding his punishment. It seemed to take forever as they debated points and injected their views. It was its own sound as the group discussed, when points of contention came to life, when agreement occurred, when consensus occurred. It was his music.

His requiem.

At that point, Potter herself walked onto the stage. He had known her parents long ago; James had briefly served his family's seat in the Wizengamot before going into hiding. Her bearing was far more human than his, more like Lily than James; she carried herself with a calm demeanor that had none of the pretension of her husband or most of the Wizengamot. Despite this, she was still a sight in her outfit - probably the most striking Dark Lady in history.

"There is one gaping lie in your speech, Mr. Gladden," Harri said, and at that moment he knew he was doomed. "Tell me. You say you have always sought the betterment of British wizarding society. Correct?"

Gladden nodded, knowing no words he could give would help.

"And yet, several Death Eaters got the benefit of the doubt - such as Malfoy and Macnair."

He gulped. "They were found innocent in a court of law -"

"- and conveniently they continued to advocate policies Voldemort would have been proud of! Also, equally conveniently, no investigation was made into the propriety of those courts." Potter glanced downward. "Take a look at your feet, Mr. Gladden. What do you see?"

Gladden looked at the floor. "Wood?"

"I see blood," Potter replied, and Gladden's own blood turned to ice. "This has been the final fate of many a wizard over the centuries. If you truly had the 'best interests' of British wizarding society, you would have ordered an investigation into their trials - or slipped a knife into their ribs to end it."

"You mean like you're doing now?" Gladden retorted. He knew his life was over; all that was left was the method.

"Exactly like I'm doing now," Potter replied, "because no one else would. The wooden floors would not have minded; it is nothing they have not encountered before." She took a deep breath. "Dandelo Gladden, your fate is as follows: You shall be stripped of your life. Your magic will be stripped away; the memories of all magical techniques will be locked away; you shall be bound from speaking of magic or from making contact with any form of magical society." She smiled. "You shall be exiled from Britain; you shall be transported to an English-speaking country to spend the rest of your days."

Gladden gulped. "But... but..."

"Good bye, Mr. Gladden," she interrupted, then touched his forehead.

The touch burned.

***

Harri was tired.

She supposed she had reason to feel old. Macnair had just joined the long list of people to meet their end on the Wizengamot floor. She'd finished it quickly; after his trial, she just wanted him dead, and killed him before he had a chance to say any more.

There was one last thing to do for the night. Cleaning up the Ministry itself could wait until after they'd gotten some sleep. But there was one person left in the Wizengamot with something to answer for. Before she could do that, though, she needed to take care of something else.

"Severus?"

Severus blinked, and walked over to her. "Yes, Harri?"

"Give me your arm for a second."

Severus frowned. "You mean... that arm?"

Harri nodded, and took Severus' arm in her hands. "You see, Severus, one of the reasons why Voldie insisted on the Dark Mark was because it was a perfect way for him to keep in contact with you. That's an incredible source of strength, but it can be a weakness, too." She tilted her head slightly. "Do you want it gone entirely, or just cosmetic?"

Severus raised an eyebrow. "It's still linked?"

"To the others, yes. I can understand why you might want to keep it - heaven knows I have marks on my body that remind me of my past. But, for what I'm planning to do, the magical link to you has to be dead."

Severus' eyes widened. "You're planning on killing them through the link, aren't you?"

Harri nodded. "That was an idea, yes." She closed her eyes and focused on the magical lines that connected Severus to the rest of the world. With a thought, she snapped the lines leading away from Severus. "It's done. If you want the tattoo itself removed, let me know."

Severus glanced out onto the stage. "Just get this done quick. The persons you're prosecuting may have deserved what they got, but this business reminds me too much of you-know-who's reign."

Harri nodded. "I know." She looked back at the parchment. "One more tonight." She put her finger to one of the seals, and sighed. "Be ready, everyone." She sent a pulse down the line of magic, and pulled it toward her.

The first thing that struck her about Lucius Malfoy was just how much like Draco he looked. Long blond hair, slicked back. Piercing blue eyes. Arrogant sneer. The difference was in the age; maturity hadn't touched Draco's face, while Lucius' wrinkles around the eyes and cheeks added a dignity to the features. She shuddered in remembrance; she hadn't wanted to think about that day.

It was only absently that she noted that Lucius, unlike most of the Wizengamot she'd called, was fully dressed.

Lucius took one look at Harri, and smirked. "How fascinating. Dumbledore's golden child becomes a dark lord - sorry, dark lady - and brings the Ministry to its knees. The irony is positively delicious!" He looked her over appreciatively. "That is a most fetching outfit, my dear; if not for your mother, you would have done Voldemort proud back in the day."

Harri didn't respond. "You know why you're here, I take it?"

"I've seen trials before," Lucius replied. "I've learned a few things."

Harri sighed. "Then you know how this is going to end, don't you? After all, it's not like you can buy any of us here."

Lucius pinched the bridge of his nose. "There is that. After all, we just tried to buy you off yesterday."

Harri sighed. "I cannot give a full list of your crimes; however, I can give a partial list. Sale of forbidden items to Messrs. Borgin and Burkes. Purposely planting a cursed object on another person - in this case, Voldemort's diary on Ginevra Weasley. The torture and humiliation of Muggles during the Quidditch World Cup. The casting of an unforgiveable - specifically, the Imperius against Messrs. Sturgis Podmore and Broderick Bode. Involvement in the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, where you sought to steal the prophesy of Voldemort's fall. Giving willing aid to Lord Voldemort by supplying your wand and home for his cause." Her voice broke. "Facilitating in a dark magic ritual by teaching your son dark magics and supplying him with material for the ritual." She swallowed. "How do you plead to these crimes?"

He looked at the Hogsmeade charter, and smiled. "Against your charges, I claim the noble and ancient art of trial by combat!" He smiled. "By that right, you either fight me in single combat in this arena... or you let me go. If you do otherwise, you harm me at the cost of your own magic."

Harri blinked. Trial by combat? That was absurd; Lucius had no chance to win such a fight! She started to give her response when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Harri?" Hermione asked. "May I speak with you for a moment?" She noticed that several others, including Ron, Gabrielle, and Fleur, looked at her with warning eyes.

Harri fought the impulse to answer immediately, and turned to Hermione. "Yes?"

Hermione pursed her lips together, then looked down for a moment. Ron looked at her, then sighed. "Hermione, I should tell her. Harri, I know what you're thinking. Normally, I'd probably agree with you, because nothing would feel better than killing this bastard like this. However, I think you should refuse him."

Harri blinked. "Refuse him? Why?"

Ron smiled. "Harri, I've learned a few things from playing chess and quidditch; one of them is when a move may appear impressive, but is just the opponent trying to make an ass out of you. See, every time one of the old representatives came through, there was a change in the magic in and out of that charter. When they lost their power, there was a change. When they made a declaration as to who their heir was, there was a change."

Harri blinked. "So?"

"When he made that move... there was no change. It had no effect - not on you, not on him, not on anyone. What I'm guessing is, when they declared you a magical creature, you no longer fell under the laws for normal trials. You killing him now would be like a nundu or a house-elf killing him!"

"There's another reason," Hermione whispered, then bit her lip nervously. "You see... you're not human."

"What?!?" Harri whispered fiercely. "I'm still human! Goddammit, Hermione, that bastard didn't take that from me!"

"Harri..." Hermione replied; her eyes seemed ready to flood with tears. "You're just as human as Gabrielle or Luna. But neither of them is fully human - and you can tell that by looking at their magic and how it interacts with their body." She sighed. "Your body was a construct of a spell that monster used many times back in the First War." She shook her head. "How much you want to bet he's got a trick or two up his sleeve in regards to you?"

"I'm waiting..." Lucius interrupted drolly.

Harri glared at him, then looked back at her friends. "Thanks. By the way, keep up an additional anti-apparation and anti-portkey field, just in case something happens to me. Also, tell the twins to guard the door - and tell Luna and Susan to leave for a moment." She then looked over at Gabrielle. "If he tries anything, fry him. Okay?"

Gabrielle nodded. Harri made limbering movements as though preparing for a fight, then stood up and entered the ring opposite Lucius' location.

"So... you're accepting my challenge?"

Harri smiled, moved into an unarmed fighting stance, and said, "Sorry. I'm refusing your challenge."

Lucius blinked, then grinned. "Then I am free to go!" He blinked when the twins refused to move.

Harri chuckled behind him. "Sorry, Lucius. You see, there's one thing about the trial by combat that you forgot. It is only to be used in a fight between 'two active Wizengamot members of honorable standing', I believe the language states." She shrugged. "When you had me declared a 'magical creature', well..."

"I see," Lucius snarled, then said a word.

Harri never heard the word; she only felt its effects. In an instant, her body began to convulse; despite herself, she groaned as she lost control of most of her muscles. As she began to fall, she noticed Lucius reaching into his pocket; with another word, she absently noted a shield forming around them.

Lucius snarled. "Shield generator. Figured the portkey wouldn't work, so I might as well finish the job here." He pulled out a knife, then said another word.

She grimaced at the result of the word. Her body felt like it was on fire; the convulsions returned, and seemed to linger for longer. Before she could react, Lucius pulled her up, grabbed her by the hair and put the knife to her throat.

In seconds, the shield gave out; Harri looked around wearily. She knew that look from her friends - the look of helplessness. They thought they could do nothing while he held her.

Sad... she thought she'd taught them better than that.

"Now..." Lucius growled. "It's time to start negotiations. I want to get out of here alive; you want her to stay alive. I think an arrangement can be made... don't you?" He smiled. "Good. By the way... now you know why this little bitch lost her rights as a wizard of full standing. She's not. The ritual that made her? Made it so the right person, with the right words, could play her like a puppet." He whispered another word; her body shuddered once more. "After all, a slave should know her place... shouldn't she?"

Harri forced the fear from her body, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. Again, she'd been here before. Draco had held her completely helpless after her change. Then, she was like an infant, unused to her body, afraid of the foreign reactions that had assaulted her senses. Then, she'd panicked. Now she knew what he was doing - and what she needed to do to stop him. "Yes," she replied, "HE should."

Steel could be banished - and was, as Lucius found himself holding air.

Wood could as well. Could be transmuted, too, as it wrapped around Lucius' mouth and wrists.

Flesh could be worked with as well. With a thought, Lucius flew to the ground, forced there by an invisible hand.

She'd been here before, once. Draco thought he had control of her, but he didn't realize... the speed of thought outraced all other magic. Lucius apparently didn't realize that, either.

It was time he did.

"Lucius, you've done nothing but make my life hell. It's only right that I return the favor." She placed a thumb on his arm over his Dark Mark, and smiled joylessly. "Goodbye."

Harri Potter was a woman with issues. Abused all of her childhood, attacked all of her adolescence, changed into a form that wasn't her own just as she was reaching adulthood, ostracized through her adult life. She knew pain; she knew agony; she knew loneliness. And most of it was caused by this monster and his friends.

Lucius' forehead began to burn with an unholy light; after a second, flames in the shape of a lightning bolt shot out his forehead. His right arm broke, a remnant of a five-year-old Harry's encounter with an angry Vernon. Bruises popped up on his face, the result of the gentle treatment Dudley and his friends dished out.

Then the wizarding injuries came - and those made the earlier work seem pleasant by comparison. Lucius screamed as the injuries started to pile up; a dozen small cuts instantly appeared all over his body, but that must have felt like nothing compared to a blast against his chest.

The injuries piled up quickly after that. The bones in his arm vanished; unfortunately for Lucius, it was his still-good left arm so affected. He screamed as a bomb of fire hit his shoulder, blood gushing from a basilisk's bite.

The bruises continued and grew; Harri was sure Lucius shivered a time or two, probably from that whole Dementor mess. Even Harri gulped at a cut along Lucius' right arm - right where Wormtail had cut her at Riddle's graveyard. It was satisfying to see the words "I will not tell lies" appear on his hand.

Harri finally let go when she could see his body begin to liquify, on its way to take a new shape. By that time, Lucius was long dead, a sack of meat laying limp on the Wizengamot floor. Harri was tempted to give it one last kick, but felt that what was done was enough.

She felt hands snake around her abdomen. "Is it done?" Gabrielle asked.

Unconsciously, Harri started shaking. "Depends on your meaning of done... Umbridge is still out there, and I'm going to need to visit her myself. But if you're meaning anyone who ever carried the Death Eater mark and meant it... yeah. It's done."

Despite herself, she found herself crying.

***

Harri watched as the future of British wizarding society ate and drank their feast. The peace had been won. Severus remained the only survivor of the Death Eaters; all the other Death Eaters had died that night. War trials for collaborators of the Voldemort regime had been held. Thanks to the charms they'd placed on the arena, no lies could be told in the circle; needless to say, very few people tried the Imperius defense. A new Charter had been written to replace the old, one that developed a more representative Wizengamot and ensured the rights of the muggleborn and the other Wizarding species. Diggory still remained Minister of Magic, a move which no one had a problem with; the rest of the Ministry had been reorganized due to the changes.

Which meant there was only one thing for Harri to do. She squeezed Gabrielle's hand, then stood up from the table.

"Friends... I..." She found she couldn't find her voice. "I have to leave."

Ron, sitting nearby, shrugged. "Well, it's a little early, Harri, but we understand."

Harri shook her head. "No. What I mean is... I have to leave Britain."

Silence descended on the table. Fred broke it with a raised glass. "Headed to France for a little while, eh? You sly dog..."

Harri groaned. "No, Fred. While we will be spending some time in France -" her hand caressed Gabrielle's in support, "we need to leave in general."

Percy frowned. "What about the new government, Harri? You can't just abandon it..."

Harri chuckled. "I'm not abandoning it, Percy. If you'll hear me out, you'll understand that me leaving is what the new government needs." She took a deep breath. "Percy, what would have happened if Dumbledore had taken the Minister's job?"

Percy put a finger to his chin in thought. "He probably would have been the best Minister ever."

Harri shook her head. "No. He wouldn't have. Granted, he would have been better than Fudge or Scrimgeour, but he wouldn't have been better than Diggory." She raised a glass in the Minister's direction.

Diggory blushed, then raised his glass in reply. "Thanks, Harri, but I still think you're wrong. I'm just an ordinary wizard who's seen a little too much."

"Which is why you're much better than I ever could be at the job." Harri took a deep breath. "People respect you - but they know that they can work with you, and you with them. You're good at being subtle - which is what is needed out of a Minister." Her face twisted in comedy. "How successful would I be at anything subtle?"

The comment drew chuckles and snorts from the table. Harri shrugged. "You see? Being a good politician requires a subtle touch. I'm not subtle. Anything I get involved in becomes a national crisis. If I support a bill, word gets out - and suddenly it becomes a referendum. If I issue a decree, people start lining up on one side or another to fight to the death over it." She shook her head. "I'll still be around. I'll still be a public figure. And, if things go horribly wrong, I'll be back. But if this government is going to function as we need it to, I have to be apart from it."

Minerva raised her own glass; her glowing green eyes twinkled with amusement. "So what will you do, Harri?"

Harri took a deep breath. "I don't know. Eventually I think I'd like to be a teacher somewhere; I've always been most at home at Hogwarts, and my time at Beauxbatons has only reinforced my love of schools and of teaching. But there's something else I need to do before then."

The question was raised almost universally from the table. "What do you need to do?"

Harri's eyes twinkled with delight.

***

Andrew Morris took a sip of his Foster's, letting the alcohol wash over him, letting the day wash over him. Fitzwilly's was a good place to find a corner and vegetate; other places, like the Chicken or Dudley's, demanded some level of awareness of your surroundings. He wanted to at least watch his surroundings; he just didn't want to worry about them. Fitzwilly's was perfect for the sort of drinking he liked to do - with as little thought and concern as possible. Besides, if he ever really wanted to stare into the flames, it had an large fire stove he could get philosophical with.

Tonight, he was just watching the game. The game was around him, if one bothered to look. In the corner with the stove, some business students were practicing their networking - by getting stone drunk. A young couple was sitting together in another booth, their hands entangling, their eyes trying to write novels. Nearby, a group of girls moved around with the efficiency of an infantry company, hunting acceptable companionship and not finding much.

Ah, the activities of the young. Sure, he was only 30, but the gulf between him and the students he was watching was palpable. Some of the Corps members in town understood, but not really; to them, Desert Storm was a distant childhood memory. They - including his students - didn't understand that sometimes deep magic meant literally that - deep magic - and that it carried a cost.

He'd paid the cost. Which of course, was why he had the position he did - Technomagic professor at Allen Academy. In his younger days in the 6/75th, they called him a miracle worker; he had to be, or lives would have been lost. He still worked miracles; unfortunately, even he wasn't sure if the cost was worth it anymore.

He took one look at the couple playing finger hockey, and sighed. God, he wished Kimi were here.

A pair of girls walked into the bar, and his eyes widened. Wizards and witches like himself were easy to spot; these two practically stole the breath from the room with their entrance. The soldier in him instantly went into threat analysis - years of training never quite left - and he started to study the pair.

Blonde, long hair, roughly aged 18. A light pink dress, knee-length, conservative for this meat market; in this place, a skirt that didn't show at least a third of a woman's thigh or blue jeans that weren't painted on might as well be funeral attire. Sunglasses were odd for this time of night; must be hiding something. He blinked in surprise as he noticed the traces of Veela in her aura. Oh, this was interesting. Her body language made things even more interesting; the pair were partners, and likely on levels that the pervert in him could appreciate.

His eyes wandered to her companion. The brunette, roughly aged 22 or 23, practically screamed 'bad witch'. Her delicious rear looked poured into the midnight-black jeans she wore; a red dragonhide bustier did a great deal to prove that yes, it lifts and separates. He recognized an old English clan ring on her finger, which gave explanation to her severe attitude; no witch that young would ever be declared clan head unless just about everyone else in her clan had died. Her hair was painfully short, almost mannish, giving force to her implied rebellion, and her makeup and sunglasses did little to soften the look. The bold, dark tones accented her full lips and perfect cheekbones, and nearly managed to cover up that scar -

His eyes stopped at her forehead; in an instant, his senses went into overdrive. Her aura was deliberately being held back - and yet it practically screamed power. He forced himself to remain calm, even while he fingered the emergency portkey in his pocket. This might or might not be ugly - in fact he doubted it - but with what he was seeing...

A younger version of himself would have cursed as they approached him; years of schooling had allowed him to keep a poker face. "Hello, ladies."

The pair nodded to him. "Hey, there. We thought you seemed pretty lonely, so..."

Andrew smiled, shook his head, and raised a hand to ward them off. "Sorry. Already taken." He eyed the pair critically. "But you already knew that... didn't you, Ms. Delacour, Ms. Potter?"

The blonde - Gabrielle Delacour, he knew now - looked to Harri, and shrugged. "It seemed like a good idea..."

Harri shook her head. "I could have told you it wouldn't work. Morris is a pro." She slid into the booth next to Morris, and raised an eyebrow. "However, we must keep up appearances, after all; wouldn't want the normal folks to think anything odd was happening..."

Gabrielle smiled, and took her seat across from them. "Of course."

Andrew kept every sense on full alert as they sat next to him. A top assassin would have a shot at his stomach before he could effectively stop it; he would normally feel confident about his chances, but this was Harri Fucking Potter at his flank! He took a swig of his beer, and sighed, trying not to appear like his mind was racing to remember everything he'd heard about the British Reformation. "So. You mind if I ask a few questions?"

Harri shrugged. "Go ahead, Professor."

Andrew's eyes narrowed. "Everyone's heard rumors about the Reformation, that you pulled this newfound power out of somewhere to basically trash the old Ministry and Wizengamot. Not that I blame you; I've met a couple of Death Eaters, and they were in desperate need of a reality check. But I don't buy it. Why you, why now, and how were you able to get all of them?"

Harri's head tilted slightly upward in thought. "Why me... some things will never reach the light of day. What I will say is that some Death Eater magic backfired, and they fried because of it. Why now... I got sick of it, and felt I needed to live my life. As for how I was able to get all of them... Voldemort needed absolute control, and had a magical link to his followers. I simply tapped into his old lines and used those lines to kill them."

Andrew nodded slowly, and filed that away; using the magical connections between wizards to kill was smart in a scary way. He just wondered how much power it would take to do that; he'd heard about what was left of the bodies of the Death Eaters, and wouldn't have wished that on anyone. "Okay... next question. You've traveled some six thousand miles to a place in Texas that most people try to ignore. Yeah, the Academy's got some fun bits, and the magical department at A&M is pretty good, but I don't think you came for the education. Now... what's on your mind?"

Harri took a deep breath. "You don't miss much. As expected." She took off her sunglasses; Morris swallowed at the sheer power in her gaze. "My magic has changed, Professor Morris. Before the last Death Eater War, my magic operated much as yours did; I said a word or two, moved my wand, and a trickle of magic came out. Now..." With a thought, she summoned a Guinness into her hand; Andrew's eyes widened, as he knew she had made no wand movement. "What I'm offering you is to change your magic so that it is similar to mine. If your magic changes as mine has, you stop using your magic like a tool. You BECOME the magic; you think about it, and it happens." She smiled. "Few people know more about the interaction of magic and technology. Moreover, your history shows a strong warrior ethic; you have killed, but only because what you had to do needed to be done. You know the dangers of the power you wield."

She raised an eyebrow, and offered her hand to his. "So.... are you in?"

***

fin

***

Author's Notes:

I wrote this last year after receiving a challenge to write a story about a Dark Lady Potter. This is about as close as I could get. Finished it, sent it to a few people, but didn't really do anything with it beyond that. Problem is, well, apparently word got out about it, and some people were wanting a copy.

The other problem... while others wanted a copy, I didn't think it was good enough to release. It was... I guess the best way to put it was that the tone of the work was not consistent. I fixed a lot of my concerns on it by rewriting the opening and changing small details here and there.

Thanks to the #scarlet group, most notably Mage, Mir, Cinn, Fos, Skel, and Yas for their help on this.

Originally released to The Fanfiction Forum: August 15, 2008

Released to Fanfiction dot net: April 19, 2009