Denouement

Harry pounded along the Ministry corridors, Hermione in his wake as they dashed towards the Wizengamot chamber in order to prevent Kingsley from announcing his decision. They were both carrying a number of documents and ledgers and these items were hindering their progress somewhat but this couldn't be helped – they needed what was within. It had been an eventful afternoon; they had gathered together the ledgers that he knew they would need before heading over to the flat in order to sift through some of the documents that they already possessed. He hadn't been kidding; he'd needed a quill and parchment in order to formulate and order the sudden idea that had flitted across his mind in the office at Gringotts.

Hermione had shown remarkable patience. She hadn't pressed him for information until he was ready and they had spent the afternoon jotting down ideas and suppositions. He'd found the scribbled notes that he'd written a few days before when Hermione was in the bath and – delighted – he was able to use this to explain to Hermione his sudden insight into the case. Of course, she had been able to add her own thoughts and ideas and between them they had finally managed to piece together the puzzle that had been tormenting them all week.

They now knew who was responsible.

He started to slow down when he neared the great double doors of the chamber and inwardly groaned when he realised that they had been slammed shut. His temper was not enhanced by the sight of John Dawlish and Blaise Zabini who were evidently standing guard.

Shit.

He halted in front of the two men and paused to catch his breath, waiting for Hermione to catch up. Once she arrived next to him he looked up and regarded the two men in front of him, letting the books he was carrying fall to the floor as he did so.

'What do you want, Potter?' sneered Dawlish and Harry had to resist the urge to hex him. Right now he needed to keep his head for it was vital that he gain entry to the chamber.

'I need to speak to the Minister,' he replied in as civil a tone as he could manage. 'I think he might want to hear what I have to say.'

'Impossible,' snapped Dawlish. 'The session has just this moment commenced. You know the rules; only members of the Wizengamot and invited spectators are allowed entry. Once the doors close, no one gets in.'

Harry contained his anger at the man's intransigence. 'Look, Dawlish; this is important. Kingsley needs to hear what I have to say. He will want to hear it.'

'He will have to wait until later to hear it, Potter. Now bugger off.'

Harry let out a deep sigh. 'Dawlish?'

'Yes?'

'You know how you and I have never really gotten on? How we always seem to be at loggerheads?'

'Yes? What of it?'

'Well, I always wondered about this. You see; generally I get on with people. But not with you; never with you.'

'So?'

'So I always wondered why. Now I finally know. Please accept my apologies.'

'Apologies? What for?'

'For this,' he replied before stepping forward and landing a crashing right hook to the side of Dawlish's head, knocking him flying into the great doors with an almighty crash. Before Dawlish had even reached the ground, Harry had his wand out and stunned his superior officer into oblivion.

'Ow! That bloody hurt!' he exclaimed as he nursed his right hand. He looked up to see the astonished expression on the face of Blaise who still hadn't reacted to the sudden attack. He was pleased to note, however, that Hermione had her wand levelled at the man's chest.

'Now it is up to you how this goes, Blaise. Either you open the bloody door or you join your pal here on the floor.' He leaned forward. 'I must speak to Kingsley. I have solved the Malfoy case. Now are you going to get in my way?'

Blaise backed up against the door and shook his head. He unsealed it and swung it open with a shaking hand.

'Thank you,' said Harry. 'Now make yourself useful and go and fetch Draco Malfoy from his cell. And once you have done that, pick up all this shit and carry it in for me,' he said, gesturing to the pile of documents on the floor. 'I'll need them for later,' he added as he made for the doors. He waited for Hermione to join him and both entered the chamber together.

He was immediately aware of the noise emanating from the packed benches around him and he felt a surge of amusement as he realised that he was making a habit of grand entrances these days. He glanced up to the head of the room and spotted Kingsley regarding him with a quizzical expression. He smiled at his friend and gave a slight nod of his head. Kingsley smiled and stepped down from the lectern before hastening to join him. Harry leaned in towards him.

'We've got them Kingsley. We know who did it,' he whispered. He saw the impact that his words had on his friend. Kingsley's eyes widened and a broad grin slowly spread across his face. 'Might I have the floor, Minister?' he asked, a hint of amusement in his tone.

Kingsley nodded. 'You may, Mr Potter,' he replied. 'Give me a minute; I'll just tell everyone what's happening,' he added before hastening back to the lectern.

Harry knew that he was the centre of attention at that moment so turned to Hermione and gave her a small nod. She understood his gesture and casually stepped back from him in order to carry out the plan they had hastily formulated back at her flat. He was confident that no one would pay her much attention; that all eyes were on himself and Kingsley at that moment and it was with some relief that he saw her slip into the background unnoticed.

He scanned the chamber quickly taking careful note of who was present as he did so. His eyes swept over Tom Proudfoot but he did not acknowledge the man. He spotted Gawain Robards and Cornelius Fudge; Cheng-Jung Chang, Judge Matthias Swing and Cuthbert Mockridge. Looking up a bit he noticed both Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy and as he quickly scanned the public gallery he was pleased to notice a gaggle of reporters, Rita Skeeter among them, her Kwik Quotes Quill slashing furiously across a piece of parchment.

Good. He'd wanted as public a forum as he could get and the full chamber of the Wizengamot allied to the presence of the media had granted him his wish.

He heard a sudden commotion behind him and realised that Blaise had done as bidden for Draco Malfoy had entered the room, Blaise himself struggling behind with the pile of papers. He locked eyes with his former enemy and gave him a small nod. Surprisingly, Draco managed a thin smile before he looked away, turning his attention towards his mother and hastening to join her on the benches.

He turned away from him to face the head of the room as Kingsley's voice could be heard over the throng, his deep tones appealing for silence.

'Ladies and Gentlemen! Your attention please!' He waited until the noise had simmered down before continuing. 'I had intended making an important announcement in relation to the fate of Draco Malfoy but it appears that Mr Potter has news pertaining to the case that is of more significance than my own information. I thus respectfully yield the floor to Mr Potter who will, I am sure, be grateful for your silence and attention.'

Within an instant one could have heard a pin drop in the room. Harry tried to remain nonchalant as every eye in the chamber turned to wards him and he took a deep breath before speaking. He hadn't worked out what he was going to say and it was with some amusement that he realised he would have to improvise. He supposed it was his "unique" way of dealing with things. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a shout from the benches.

'I object most strongly to this, Minister!' exclaimed a voice and Harry turned to the source and found himself gazing on the irate countenance of Gawain Robards. 'Mr Potter has no right to speak in this Chamber. He is not a member of the Council and should not be allowed to speak. This is not a courtroom, after all. And I also object to the presence of a suspected murderer,' he added, pointing directly at Draco.

Harry never replied immediately; instead he slowly approached his boss, the only sound in the chamber being that of his footsteps as he strode across the room.

'It was a courtroom once,' he said in a low growl. 'I was called before this "council" when I was fifteen on a charge of underage magic,' he continued, his voice steadily getting louder. 'I have spoken in this chamber before and I will do so again and no one has the right to gainsay me! No one!' he exclaimed, hammering his fist on the bench. He turned and swept his arm around the room 'I am the Soul Thief of Draco Malfoy and I am reporting my findings! At the moment he is a suspect; when I am finished that will no longer be the case. To interfere with me is to break the law! Does anyone dare challenge me in this?'

He had been making it up as he went along but noticed that not a sound could be heard in the room save for the furious scratching of quills from the public gallery. It occurred to him with amusement that his name could be useful at times. He was Harry Potter; the "boy-who-lived"; the "Chosen One" and the "destroyer of the Dark Lord" and his name still carried a lot of weight in this world. No one was going to call his bluff. He found himself struggling to contain a grin as he turned back to Kingsley.

'Thank you, Minister, for ceding me the floor,' he said formally and began to pace the room, deep in thought. After a few moments he finally stopped to address his audience.

'You all know what I have been doing this past week. You are all aware of the charges levelled against Draco Malfoy; of the heinous murder of Cho Chang. You will also know of the recent destruction of the escaped Deatheaters. What you will not know is that these two cases are related; that they are in fact one case - although I am prepared to admit that it is split into two halves.'

He turned and commenced his pacing once again. 'In order to fully understand what has occurred, to fully appreciate why Cho Chang was murdered; we must go back eleven months to the time of the death of Ron Weasley. As many of you will be aware, Cho worked for Gringotts managing the accounts of those within our community who prefer to deal with humans rather than Goblins. I am not here to pass judgement on such behaviour but it is worth noting that if the people responsible had deigned to allow a Goblin to manage their accounts then none of this would have happened. Goblins are renowned for their discretion and none of what I am about to reveal would ever have seen the light of day. It's quite ironic when you think about it,' he added, the amusement evident in his tone.

He stopped pacing once again and turned to face the benches. 'But Cho was not a Goblin and lacked their discretion. She discovered some…irregularities in some of the bank accounts and approached my friend, Ronald Weasley, with her concerns. I know this because of an entry in her diary that mentions a meeting with him. Ron now became privy to this knowledge and it ultimately cost him his life,' he added in a quiet voice. He had the audience eating out of the palm of his hand now; not a whisper could be heard. He paused for a moment and scanned the room seeking out those that looked worried. He noted with satisfaction that the people looking nervous were the one's he'd expected to be nervous.

'So what had Cho discovered?' he continued. 'What was so incriminating that it cost Ron his life? Well; I can now answer that. Cho had discovered various cash transfers in a number of the accounts she dealt with. In isolation, each transfer seemed innocent enough, but Cho was able to examine the bigger picture. She could see a pattern - a trail; one that led to the person responsible for breaking the Deatheaters out of Azkaban.'

An audible gasp could be heard from some of the members of the council but Harry ignored this. He turned once again to face Kingsley. 'This leads us to the second half of the case. The Minister here,' he said, gesturing towards Kingsley, 'always maintained that the escapees must have had help to break out of the prison. This lead was pursued vigorously but nothing came of it. I do not say this to condemn; I merely mention it because the investigators at the time were not aware of all the facts and as a result did not realise that no one was above suspicion. We know better now.'

He paused for a moment as he caught Hermione in the corner of his eye as she quietly made her way round the back of the room. So far, no one had paid her the slightest attention and he reminded himself that he must continue to speak in the singular. It was crucial that no one realise that she was here.

'Because I was willing to suspect everyone I was able to piece together what happened. The day before the breakout, the prison was visited by someone on official business. I believe that individual is responsible for aiding the escapees. Whether it was by slipping them a wand or some other such device is irrelevant. What isn't irrelevant is the identity of this individual.' He knew he was dragging this out but he had to wait until Hermione was in place. 'I looked again at the prison visitor log and cross checked the names with the bank accounts I had in my possession thanks to the courtesy and co-operation of Ragnok, the chief Goblin at Gringotts.'

He glanced to the back of the room and realised that Hermione had made it. He ploughed on, recommencing his pacing as he did so. 'Once I knew what to look for, the rest was easy. I discovered a substantial payment made to an individual on that list; a payment made for services rendered. It is sufficient proof to identify the culprit and that person will be extremely nervous right now. Isn't that right, Tom?' he asked, acid in his voice as he spun and pointed an accusing finger at his partner. The collective intake of breath from the watching gallery was almost enough to suck the air out of the room.

Tom Proudfoot struggled to contain the bile rising in his throat. He could taste the fear. He had been feeling quite secure as Harry had commenced his little speech, believing that there was no proof against him, but as his partner had elaborated on what he had discovered he had begun to feel more and more worried. When Harry had then mentioned the bank accounts and the Azkaban list he'd known that the game was up; that his double dealing had been uncovered. He had momentarily clung on to the belief that there was no proof of his involvement but he now realised that this was a forlorn hope. He didn't intend to go quietly though and had been considering his options when Harry had rounded on him in fury.

He reacted instinctively, reaching into his robes and pulling his wand out in a flash. He began to straighten his arm to take aim, was aware of people starting to duck for cover when he felt a sharp jab in the side of his neck.

'Don't even think about it,' hissed a voice and it took him a few seconds to realise that it was Hermione Granger who spoke and who had the tip of her wand pressed tightly against his neck. 'I've never killed anyone in my life but, so help me, I could easily start with you; you bastard. Drop it! Now!' she added as she pressed harder with her wand.

Tom Proudfoot was not a coward but he believed the words spoken to him; believed that she would cut him down if he did not obey. He sagged in defeat and let go of his wand and closed his eyes in despair as it clattered on the ground, the sound echoing through the chamber like a gunshot. He felt himself being thrust forwards into the centre of the room and when he looked up he was confronted by Harry who had a murderous look on his face.

For his part, Harry stood in a cold rage as he confronted the man responsible for so much death. He'd held out a faint hope that perhaps Tom was innocent; that maybe it was all coincidence, but the actions of the man in drawing his wand had confirmed his guilt. Now as he looked on him he realised that the pathetic creature was not even worthy of his contempt. He nodded to Hermione who immediately conjured some ropes and bound Tom tight.

'Well; that simplifies things a little, I think,' he said dryly. 'You all saw that!' he exclaimed as he turned to the room at large. 'You saw him reach for his wand!' He turned back to face Tom. 'I reckon we had enough proof anyway, but you've gave yourself away, Tom. Shall I tell the others what really happened?' he asked caustically. He did not wait for a reply.

'You were approached and asked to help. You were promised many things – not least a pile of cash. You went to Azkaban under some pretence – probably claiming to interview a suspect or something and when you were there you helped the Deatheaters to escape. So far, so simple. Who would suspect you, Tom?' He leaned forward so that his nose almost touched the traitor's. 'But then things got complicated, didn't they? You discovered what Ron was working on – I don't know how; either he confronted you or he told Robards who let slip to you but that doesn't matter. What matters is that you knew he was a threat so you contacted your new pals and everything was arranged; wasn't it? It was you who sent the anonymous note, you bastard. You knew where Ron and I used to go for lunch; it was so easy for you to time it so that we would be first on the scene. You also knew us both well enough to know that we would want to investigate ourselves!'

He realised that he was shouting and it was with an almost physical effort that he calmed himself. Tom said nothing and his silence was all Harry needed to know. 'The plan worked perfectly, didn't it? We walked right into it. The only failure was that you only managed to wound me. It was at that point that the decision was taken to let me live.'

'Why?' interrupted Kingsley who was looking at Tom as if he was about to attack him. 'Why did they let you live?'

'I'll get to that soon enough, Kingsley; don't worry. First we have to tell Mr Proudfoot's story. You see; Tom thought he was safe; thought he had eliminated the threat. What he didn't know was that the real danger was Cho, not Ron. Cho wasn't stupid; she knew why Ron had been killed and she must have been terrified. She lay low for months – eleven moths to be precise – but then she had the misfortune to take someone into her confidence at her father's party. Someone she thought she could trust, but that trust was sadly misplaced. That person was in on it too and recognised the danger. Cho never had an appointment that night; the note was sent to her after the threat was realised. Once she left her father's house she was as good as dead.'

'Who did she speak to?' asked Kingsley.

'I'll get to that in a minute. First we have to finish poor Cho's tale. Tom here was the killer; he was the man who did the deed. But then he had a problem. How did he dispose of such a high profile body? This was the daughter of one of our most influential families; her disappearance would be noticed immediately.' He turned and gestured to the Malfoys. 'So it was at this point that Draco entered our sorry tale.'

'Why Draco?' asked Kingsley.

'Two reasons,' replied Hermione, much to the surprise of everyone, save Harry. She became aware that the attention in the room had switched to her; that several members were regarding her with disdain and that even here her Muggle origins caused discomfort. She straightened her shoulders and squared her jaw. 'Two reasons,' she repeated. 'The first was revenge. Lucius Malfoy had been approached by the escapees and asked for help. He was told that it was the last chance he had to restore his family's honour after Narcissa lied to Voldemort the night he was destroyed. Lucius declined to help, thus leaving his family open to revenge attacks.'

'And the second reason?' asked Kingsley.

'That would be political,' she replied. 'Someone saw an opportunity to cause you grief, Minister. Someone knew that if Draco Malfoy were to be threatened with the Kiss then you would be in an untenable situation. Either you upset the conservatives or alienate the liberals; whatever you decided to do. This was a wedge that could be driven into the support for the equality bill that you had taken so long to construct. Regardless of what the outcome of Draco's trial was, you were bound to lose support.'

'The decision to frame Draco was taken in haste,' said Harry as he picked up the tale. 'Tom didn't have much time to act but either he or one of his associates came up with the idea of using an Elf. Using a personal elf was out of the question but a Ministry elf would do just as well. Tom summoned Modric and instructed him to plant Cho's body in Draco's apartment. Modric was told to make it look as if no one else had been in the room and to wipe the memory of Draco. Of course; the investigation didn't discover the presence of the memory charm. After all; when do we ever pay attention to House Elves?' he asked bitterly. 'We never even considered the possibility.' He gestured to Tom. 'This bastard then sent the anonymous tip off to Dawlish and the rest you know. Draco was caught with a dead woman in his bed and covered in her blood with no memory of what had happened. Quite a spot.'

'This all seems rather far-fetched,' interrupted Robards and Harry turned to his boss and regarded him piteously. 'I haven't even got to the real culprits yet,' he said disdainfully. 'Tom was just the leg-man; just a patsy if things went wrong. He wasn't the one calling the shots.'

'So who was?' asked Kingsley.

'Someone who stood to gain if you fell from office,' replied Hermione. 'Someone who knows how to mount a political attack and someone extremely well connected in our society. Someone who Cho Chang would trust owing to his relationship with her father,' she added.

'Who then?' asked Robards.

Harry turned to face one of the men responsible. 'Cornelius Fudge,' he replied quietly.

A stunned silence greeted these words as all eyes in the room turned to the ex-Minister. Fudge stood with an incredulous expression on his face for a moment. Then he began to laugh.

'Very good, Harry,' he said, clapping his hands ironically. 'Very good indeed. Quite a tale you have weaved. Quite a story you have concocted. Of course, it is arrant nonsense.'

'Is it?' asked Harry. 'I don't think it is. You see; we know what happened. We know what you have been doing.'

Fudge turned to address Kingsley. 'Minister, I see no benefit in allowing Mr Potter to continue with this nonsense. For too long have we indulged him. He is no longer a boy; he is a man now and must face the consequences of casting such scurrilous accusations. My record speaks for itself; I am known to all in this chamber. I have been working tirelessly for the Minister - and for your friend Miss Granger - and this is the thanks I get?' he looked around the room, clearly affronted. 'I am sure that no one takes these absurd accusations seriously. My record speaks for itself.'

Harry could hear a few murmurs of agreement at these words but knew how to deal with that. 'We do know your record, Cornelius,' he began, the contempt evident in his voice. 'We all know it well. "Cornelius Fudge; he always means well; always does his best and always tries to find the middle ground. An affable man is Cornelius. Wouldn't hurt a fly."' He looked grim as he said this in a sing song voice. 'But your record does speak for itself. Let us not forget that it was Cornelius Fudge who ordered that Barty Crouch Jnr be Kissed without a trial. That it was Cornelius Fudge who tried to get me to be his poster boy and who made my life hell. Cornelius Fudge who libelled me in the press for over a year; who tried to have me expelled from Hogwarts; who appointed a Headmistress who was willing to use Unforgivable Curses on students; who supported her discriminatory policies against non-humans. Oh yes; we know your record very well indeed, Cornelius.'

'Minister?' interjected Fudge. 'Mr Potter has clearly taken leave of his senses. This is obviously a personal attack for past…differences between us. I demand that he retract these accusations – or at the very least he provide proof,' he added smugly.

'Oh, I have proof; don't worry about that,' Harry cut in. 'You see; there were a number of aspects in this case that bothered me.' He began to pace again as he spoke. 'One of them was that Willie Widdershins had been roped in against his will to supply the escapees with what they needed. I couldn't work out why. I mean; why Willie? He's the worst bloody crook in the world. He makes Mundugus Fletcher look like a master criminal. Willie told me he had been recommended to them; that someone had given them his name. Then it occurred to me; he did a little job for you too once, didn't he? Or at least; he did a job for your stooge, Umbrage, spying on me and my friends. You did a little deal for him, didn't you? Had some pending charges against him dropped?'

'Is that the best you can do, Harry?' asked Fudge contemptuously.

'I haven't even started yet. You mention the work you have been doing for Kingsley and Hermione?'

'Yes! I have worked tirelessly on their behalf.'

'Worked?' scoffed Harry. 'You call attending dozens of social gatherings work? Oh, I have no doubt that you paid Hermione lip-service; that you convinced a few people to vote for change. But you were doing something else too, weren't you? You were taking the opportunity to network; to build support for yourself if Kingsley lost. If Kingsley were to fall then who would replace him? There are no obvious candidates – only Robards and I don't think people would accept a third Minister in a row from the Aurors. So that really only leaves you. Kingsley said it himself; you were a successful peacetime Minister and people would view you as a safe bet.'

'This is ridiculous!' exclaimed Fudge. 'I don't have to listen to this! I still haven't heard any proof.'

'I'm getting there,' replied Harry. 'But first we must deal with your accomplice, isn't that right, Cuthbert?' he asked, turning on Mockridge who looked as if he had been slapped. 'You were both in it together, weren't you? You hated – hated – the fact that a Muggle born woman had taken your job and was proving so much better at it than you. Fudge promised you your old job back, didn't he? Promised you to get rid of the "Mudblood." Perhaps Cho overheard you at her father's party? The two of you scheming away.' He turned back to Tom Proudfoot. 'No doubt a promotion was in the offing for you too? Head of the Auror Division if Fudge got in?' He did not wait for a reply.

Once again, a profound silence greeted these accusations and Harry had the feeling that he was beginning to convince his audience. He waited for a response but could see that Mockridge had been stunned into silence. He was not surprised when Fudge spoke once again.

'Minister! I insist that Mr Potter stop this immediately or I will be forced to call in my legal representatives.'

'Call them,' replied Harry. 'You're going to need them soon because I'm nearly done. Just a few loose ends to tie up' He looked down at his feet, deciding how to proceed. 'You realised that Cho had uncovered the plot; knew that she was a threat so you ordered Tom to get rid of her. Draco was framed and then the Dementor's Kiss sought. Of course, this was sure to be granted because the Judge had been bought too. But none of this was your idea, was it? You're not the brains behind all of this; you could never come up with anything so clever.'

Fudge looked confused for a moment. 'So now you are saying I am not involved? Make up your mind, Potter,' he said derisively.

'Oh, you were involved. You stood to gain and went along with the whole thing. It was you who ordered Cho killed. But it wasn't your idea to frame Draco, was it?' He paused for a moment and approached Blaise before taking a handful of bank ledgers from him. 'You keep asking for proof? Well; here it is, Cornelius. This is what Cho discovered all those months ago. This is the knowledge that uncovered the conspiracy; the knowledge Ron Weasley died for.' He noted with satisfaction that Fudge had turned pale; that he was sweating profusely and that his bluster finally seemed to be at an end. He flipped open a ledger.

'This is yours, Cornelius. Quite a wealthy man, aren't you? You seem to have a generous benefactor; one who has made quite a number of payments to you. T.K.? And,' he continued as he flipped open another book, 'you too are well off, Cuthbert. And here we are; T.K. again – and again; and again,' he added, pointing to each incriminating entry as he spoke. 'I wish I had such a generous friend.' He opened a third book. 'Judge Swing received numerous payments from T.K over the years that coincide with some very high profile cases. This is how they could be sure that the Kiss would be sought for Draco, putting Kingsley in such a tight spot when they did so.' He came to the last ledger. 'And this is yours, Tom and this is the most revealing one of all. Payments from T.K. all over it like a rash but this one in particular caught my interest,' he said, pointing to a specific transaction. 'Three days before the Azkaban breakout twenty thousand Galleons were paid into your account by T.K. and then withdrawn by you immediately. A sizeable amount; enough I suspect to house and supply four escaped Deatheaters and have change to spare.' He closed the book with a snap. 'So the thousand Galleon question facing us was; who is T.K.?'

No one said a word at this revelation as each member of the chamber considered his words. What had seemed a fanciful story now had a look of plausibility about it. Harry strode back over to Blaise and handed him back the ledgers before turning to face Kingsley again.

'Throughout this case I have received one piece of advice from a number of people,' he said.

'What advice?' asked Kingsley.

Harry smiled at his friend. 'To follow the money,' he replied. 'Its good advice and particularly relevant in this case,' he added gesturing at the ledgers. 'But "follow the money" doesn't necessarily mean cash; it's just a simplified way of asking "who stands to gain?" Or in this instance, "Who is gaining?" There was one aspect that has been troubling me; one thing that I couldn't explain.'

Kingsley frowned as he considered this. 'What was that?'

'Why the decision was taken to let me live the day Ron was killed. I was a sitting duck and yet I was allowed to live. Dolohov told me that the decision was taken after I was wounded.' He smiled. 'It was Hermione who realised the significance of this - who decided? Because whoever did decide is the person really calling the shots.' He paused for a moment and pulled a copy of the Daily Prophet from his pocket. 'I was looking at this earlier,' he said holding it up for all to see. 'It's the edition from the day after Cho was killed and it has a society article on her father's party. You see; I have been convinced for a while that the party was significant; that something happened there that caused all of this to happen; that Cho saw or heard something she shouldn't have. I was looking at the photograph – at Fudge and Mockridge and all the others - and I was convinced that the person responsible was present when it was taken. And then Hermione advised me to look at things from a different angle and it suddenly occurred to me; there are two ends to a photograph. Those being snapped and the person holding the camera. That's when it hit me. T.K.'

'So who is T.K?' asked Kingsley.

'The answer is in the article too,' began Harry as he began to write letters in the air with his wand. The onlookers watched in rapt attention as they began to form into shape. Finally a name could be discerned.

Teresa Kiter.

Laughter greeted this revelation but Harry had been expecting it.

'Teresa Kiter?' asked Robards once he had stopped laughing. 'The society columnist? I've never heard anything so ridiculous in my life.'

'Are you sure?' snapped Harry. 'Do you know Teresa? Have you spoken to her?'

Robards frowned. 'No, I suppose not. She keeps a low profile.'

'Of course she does,' replied Harry, 'because she is not everything she seems to be. She's an invention; she's a cover for someone else. She's a disguise.'

'So who is she?' asked Robards.

Harry didn't reply immediately. Instead he began to rearrange the letters. 'This is an old trick,' he said nonchalantly. 'There is a flaw in the character of certain people. They think they are cleverer than everyone else and that we won't work things out. But I've actually seen this particular trick before. Voldemort did it to me when I was twelve.'

He said nothing else but continued to rearrange the letters. After a few seconds, another name could be read.

Rita Skeeter.

The reaction to this revelation was predictable. People rose to their feet shouting and all eyes in the room turned to the bespectacled witch who sat impassively in the public gallery. Harry noted with amusement that her quill had stopped writing for once.

'Rita Skeeter?' asked Kingsley, incredulously.

'Yes,' he replied. 'Rita. Who stands to gain? Who would rather keep me alive? Rita.' He strode towards her and could not help but smile.

'You see, Rita had fallen on hard times. I don't mean financially; I mean professionally. The Quibbler had outstripped the Prophet for the first time in history. Rita's awards had dried up. I should have realised when I visited her office earlier this week. She had loads of awards from before Voldemort fell but none since Hermione, Ron and I refused to speak to her after the war. None until recently that is. I believe the article you wrote about the verdict in Ron's inquiry was the one that broke the barren spell, eh, Rita? "Potter Guilty of Negligence?" You must have enjoyed that?'

Rita looked furious for a moment, the first emotion he had seen from her. 'I have nothing to say to you,' she replied.

'That's fine by me, Rita, but I suspect you will have to answer to others soon enough.' He paused for a few seconds. 'You couldn't handle it, could you? No longer the top dog; no longer important. No longer feared. All the good stories had dried up after Voldemort was killed, hadn't they? I was the only show in town and I wouldn't have anything to do with you. So you decided that reporting the news wasn't enough. You decided to create your own exclusives – make your own news. You arranged to have the Deatheaters broken out – you knew that was a winner. People panicking and desperate for news. Right up your street. Then Ron Weasley got wind of it and you decided to remove him. Of course; this was a big story too and there was even the chance of getting me as well. But when I was only injured it occurred to you that I was worth more to you alive. I'm the "Boy-Who-Lived". People will read about me taking a piss if they could. So you spared me and decided that destroying me would be more fun. Even when I left you got mileage out of wondering where I was.'

'Speculation,' Rita replied. 'Idle speculation.'

'Not at all. I know you, Rita. It was you Fudge went to when he realised Cho had learned too much. It was you who suggested using her murder to frame Draco. The trial of the century was all set up and ready to go. Then I re-entered the stage and sales of the Prophet went through the roof. You must have pissed yourself with excitement when I returned. You couldn't have foreseen that.'

'Don't flatter yourself,' replied Rita. 'You're not that important.'

Harry smiled at the remark. 'Then why go to all the trouble of following me around?' His tone hardened. 'Why go to the rouble of trying to assassinate Hermione? That would have made for great headlines, wouldn't it?' he asked angrily. He paused for a second to collect himself. 'You knew that Kingsley would be in trouble whatever he decided to do about the Dementor's Kiss when Draco was found guilty. It was a perfect opportunity – you couldn't miss. Kingsley would fall and you would campaign to get Fudge back in. The two of you had an understanding in the past, didn't you? Fudge would let you write what ever you wanted and would feed you stories. He'd even let you attack other species in print – just like you did to Hagrid all those years ago. You didn't want the equality bill to succeed, did you? I remember from your article that you hate the "half breeds".'

'Prove it,' Rita hissed.

'I have all the proof I need at Gringotts,' replied Harry. 'The Goblins have promised me full co-operation. The money trail leads right back to you, Rita.' This was in fact a bluff – he hadn't had time to check this out but he suspected that it was a shrewd thrust. His suspicions were confirmed when Rita deflated before his eyes.

'I made the mistake of looking for the person responsible,' Harry continued softly. 'It never occurred to me straight away that there might be more than one. Tom Proudfoot; Cuthbert Mockridge; Matthias Swing; Cornelius Fudge and you Rita. You all stood to gain in your own little way. I suppose I should congratulate you, ' he added.

'Congratulate me?' asked Rita, surprised.

'Yes; you have got what you wanted. You've just created the biggest media sensation since Voldemort died. Not quite what you hoped for, I'm sure, but a success nonetheless.' He turned away from her and looked directly at Kingsley. 'It's up to you boss. That's what we discovered. Is it enough?'

Kingsley didn't respond immediately. He held Harry's gaze for a few moments before turning and looking at each of the conspirators in turn. 'It's more than enough,' he finally replied, his voice like doom. 'Take them away,' he ordered to Blaise and Mark. 'Get them out of my sight; I will deal with them later.'

Harry let out a sigh of relief and turned as he saw Hermione rush towards him. He smiled and was nearly knocked of his feet as she leapt into his arms. They stood for a long moment in a tight embrace, oblivious of the watching eyes.

'You did it!' she exclaimed into his ear.

'No; we did it,' he replied. 'I could never have done this on my own.'

She smiled at his reply and held his gaze for a few seconds before lowering her head and kissing him deeply – an overture that he responded to in kind. When they finally pulled apart he eyed her lovingly and felt a sudden relief as he realised that it was all over. He had avenged Ron; had cleared Draco and had saved Kingsley. But she had done so much more. She had saved him and for the first time he could remember, he looked to the future with optimism.

He was supposed to be the Soul Thief but it was Hermione who had reclaimed his soul.

Two weeks later.

'…and we couldn't have done it without Hermione. She's worked round the clock to help steer the Bill through and she's the one who deserves all the credit…'

Harry squeezed Hermione's hand as he listened to Kingsley. They were celebrating the successful passing of the Equality Act and the mood in the room was one of laughter and joy. They were in Kingsley's house after he had insisted they attend the celebration and as he glanced around the table he felt a sense of contentment and peace.

It was an intimate gathering. Apart from himself and Hermione, only Arthur Weasley, and Susan Bones were in attendance.

And Ragnok.

It was a sign of better things to come that the Minister would invite the head of the Goblin's to such a social gathering but as Kingsley had explained he couldn't pass legislation and then ignore it completely himself. That would be hypocritical. Besides, he had added, he liked Ragnok.

Harry allowed his mind to wander over recent events as the conversation washed over him. The immediate aftermath of the Wizengamot session had been profound and even now the repercussions could be felt in the Magical world. Those responsible had been quickly removed from the room and imprisoned deep within the Ministry and Kingsley had acted swiftly to have trials arranged for them all. He wanted the proceedings to be as public as possible and was doing everything by the book although the outcome was viewed as a mere formality. Rita Skeeter's self incrimination should be enough to condemn them all.

Kingsley had also made sure the judge was above reproach and hadn't been bought – he didn't want another Swing on his hands.

Narcissa Malfoy had almost smothered first him and then Hermione with her embrace once it became evident that Draco had no involvement. All charges against him had been dropped immediately and he smiled when he recalled the reaction of the Malfoys. Lucius had remained aloof although his relief could be detected. Draco had muttered his awkward thanks and had offered his hand, which he had taken. They would never be friends but they had reached an understanding – they wouldn't be enemies either.

Narcissa, however, had been gushing in her thanks and it was amusing to see the normally icy façade dissolve into relief and joy. She had actually cried and had promised him anything he wanted as payment for his services. He didn't need the money so after getting an assurance that Dung would be covered in gold he'd made a small request of his own.

'Just vote in favour of the Bill; that's all I ask. And make sure your husband does too; and anyone else you think you can influence.'

Narcissa had cast a glance at Hermione and smiled knowingly.

'It will be done, Harry. And thank you. Thank you both, she'd added with a smile for Hermione.

It had been worth it just to see Hermione's face when Narcissa had made her pledge.

The Malfoy votes probably didn't count for much in the end as the Bill had passed with an overwhelming majority. It seemed that the members of the Wizengamot did not take too kindly to the attempt by Rita and Fudge to manipulate them and undermine Kingsley and had voted "yes" in large numbers. Hermione had been ecstatic but it seemed that this success was not enough. It amused him to note that even after such a success she was now working with Kingsley on proposals for political reform.

But that was not all she had being doing. They had been spending the past two weeks exploring their new relationship and he knew with certainty that she was all he would ever need in his life. He still had no idea what he wanted to do with himself; all he did know was that he would live wherever Hermione decided to go. She was perfect for him and he couldn't imagine life without her and as he looked on her now he wondered what the future held. A future with Hermione promised laughter and joy; arguments and reconciliations – not to mention plenty of mind-blowing sex, he thought with a smile. But above all, it promised love and contentment and somewhere in the world that he could finally call home. He had been searching for that harbour all his life and he knew that he had finally achieved it.

He glanced round as Kingsley loudly cleared his throat.

'As host of this little gathering, I should of course propose a toast,' he said as he began to stand with glass in hand. Everyone made to follow but as Harry stood Kingsley waved him back into his chair.

'For all of the excellent work done by Hermione, our project was nearly derailed by the actions of others. Were it not for Harry we might have lost everything. So, ladies and Gentlemen, please raise your glasses to the Soul Thief.'

'The Soul Thief,' chorused the others before clinking glasses and taking a drink.

Harry locked eyes with Hermione as she toasted him and took a sip of wine before bestowing a breathtaking smile on him. He knew that he couldn't have done anything without her; that he had been on a road to self-destruction until she pulled him back. That she had redeemed him – had reclaimed his soul. He lifted his own glass and raised it to her, aware that all eyes in the room were on him but knowing she would understand that his words were for her alone.

'To my Soul Thief.'