Yay!! My first FanFiction!!! This is HARRY POTTER fanfiction

Set right after Harry left Dumbledore office on chapter 36. Canon with DH. Oh and, wikipedia said this was happened around 1998, so I adjusted it. I’m a big Dramione shipper and Draco x Harry lover (NOTHING slash though) so those might influenced this story a bit though I’m trying to be neutral. Total of 5 chapters for now I know, can be more. No pairings intended (except the obvious HG - RH), mostly Harry’s POV, sometimes it's from a completely 3rd person POV (mine)

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CHAPTER ONE - Chapter 37 and Beyond



Harry left Dumbledore’s office along with Ron and Hermione. Now that his anxious mind had been put at rest, drowsiness and exhaustion began to kick in. Ron and Hermione walked behind him in silence, preoccupied with what had just happened. Ron mumbled something like, “Such a powerful wand… come to such a waste...” Hermione took a disapproving look at him, but stayed quiet. Harry heard Ron, but felt too relieved to be reunited with his own wand to respond.

“It’s brilliant, you know, what you just did,” said Hermione. “Mending your wand that way. I didn’t even think of it myself.”

Harry gave a small smile. “I figured that if this Elder Wand is really special, it can do at least that.” Actually, Harry hadn’t known how bad the damage was – he wasn’t sure of anything. But the result was more than satisfactory; it certainly doubled, perhaps even tripled, the reparo spell effect. Of course, he wouldn’t expect less from a wand which drove Lord Voldemort himself into a frantic obsession.

The three of them walked in silence, passing the damaged alleyway to a staircase that led both down to the Great Hall and back to the Gryffindor dorm.

“What will you do now, Harry?” asked Hermione.

Harry paused for a moment. His eyes lingered on the staircase, his mixed emotions making him indecisive. He felt drained and exhausted – and no wonder, considering he and his two friends had been lacking of sleep for days. Not to mention the flight on the back of a wild dragon for hours, the life or death experience with a cursed flame in the Room of Requirement, and then the final fierce battle. And the deaths. The deaths of Fred, Lupin, Tonks, and dozens of others.

Fred. Oh Fred. Harry looked at Ron. He must be feeling awful. And Ginny too. And the rest of the Weasleys. He could turn around and go to sleep now. But somehow, he got the feeling that even if he went for a good nights sleep – well it was the morning actually, because the sun had already risen – his wandering thoughts and remaining adrenalin might foil his peaceful, dreamless nap.

“What are you guys gonna do?” he asked back.

Ron looked like a mess, with messy hair and a pale face. He exchanged a look with Hermione. “I think I’m going to my family first. They haven’t told me what they will do with Fred’s body – or Lupin’s or Tonks’, at that.”

“I will talk to Kingsley, ask him if it’s okay for us to call it a day. I think we agree that you, of all people, deserve some good rest now that Voldemort is dead.” Hermione rubbed her eyes tiredly.

Harry’s first thought was to agree with Hermione. The comfort of his own bed sounded like a very good idea. But then he thought of the atmosphere in the Great Hall, and how both or his friends, Hermione and Ron, would still be there, defying exhaustion and showing companionship with all the people who had been affected by that terrible final battle. He couldn’t just go to sleep, not yet.

“I’ll go with you.” he said.

Hermione looked like she misheard Harry. “Are you sure? You did enough for tonight, don’t you think?”

“It’s fine. I’ll live. I am the boy who lived, you know.”

A smile slowly crossed Hermione’s lips, suddenly she felt warm inside. She took two steps towards Harry and flung her arms around his neck, hugging him.

“I’m so… sooo relieved, Harry. Thank you.” she whispered.

Harry’s drowsiness reduced considerably by her gesture. With an awkward gaze towards Ron he chuckled and patted her on the back. “It’s okay. I am okay.”

After three seconds Hermione let Harry go. Slightly flushed, but soon recovered, she beckoned them to hurry before turning and walking past them. Harry put his invisibility cloak back on and placed both his wand and the Elder Wand safely under his robe. He and Ron followed. The three of them, two for anyone else, walked down the stairs and alleyways towards the Great Hall.

All the Death Eaters were goners. Some of them had been killed, some of them fled, but most of them had been rounded up and sent temporarily to Azkaban, waiting for their pending trials.

With exception for three people.

Harry spotted the three Malfoys huddled, isolated from the rest of the crowds, stood by the wall in the far end of the hall. Harry watched the three of them, feeling peculiar. He glanced to Ron and Hermione, who walked hand in hand towards the rest of the Weasley and the appointed temporary Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt. Harry hesitated for a while, but then parted himself and moved in the direction of the three Malfoys.

Lucius stood there, motionless. His eyes were unfocused, staring down at the floor. He had a face as white as his hair, with a stony expression of denial. Narcissa was sitting on a bench; there was a streak of tears on her cheek. She put one hand on her lap, holding her son’s hands, and placing the other hand on his back. Draco was kneeling beside his mother, both of his hands wound tightly around hers, seeming childlike and frightened. He bowed with face down almost touching his hands, like he was attempting to hide. He looked like he had been sobbing, the tension of the war badly taking its toll upon him. Harry watched them with mixed emotions. He almost couldn’t distinguish which emotions were his true feelings, and which were merely reactions. He never thought he would feel this way about the Malfoys, but... What a heartbreaking view.

Harry hesitated – he felt like he was witnessing a private moment, which made him uneasy. He looked around, not daring to face them. His thoughts drifted to the moment he saw Draco in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom one year ago. He remembered their brawl and the brutal violence of his sectumsempra spell along with seeing Draco Malfoy cry. He never thought a Malfoy could have burst into tears like that. Now he thought of it…what had made Draco cry back then?

Harry looked at him observantly. His face was full of sadness, anger, and something else he couldn’t quite place. Was there regret? Or better – remorse? It looked like those were eyes of a person who had committed a selfish, foolish act, and had hated himself for it ever since. As surreal as the moment was, Harry couldn’t help feeling sorry for Draco.

His thoughts were suddenly halted when he heard approaching footsteps. Up came Kingsley Shacklebolt, accompanied by some fellow Aurors.

“Lucius Malfoy.” he greeted with a low voice. The effect of his voice was instant. Lucius snapped of whatever contemplation he was having, slowly but surely regaining his composure. Narcissa lifted her face, as beautiful as a marble statue, staring unwaveringly at Kingsley. Draco slowly got up to his feet and returned the stare, as fierce as ever.

“I must ask you to come with us.”

Lucius didn’t respond. For a time that felt like hours, he just stood there, staring into Kingsley eyes. The Malfoy pride, it seemed, was still evident.

When there was still no answer, Kingsley spoke. “We’re going to escort you and your family to Azkaban today. The following trial will take place within seven days.”

Though it didn’t seem possible, the faces of the Malfoys turned paler with each word that crept out of Kinglsey’s mouth. “No.” Narcissa let out a small whisper. “No.” she repeated, aghast. Draco looked like he had just been hugged by a Dementor: white, petrified, and lost for words; eyes full of disbelief and rejection. Lucius, however, after a long, reluctant pause, gave a slight nod. His lips were curled, his expression unreadable.

Harry could hear Narcissa gasping at the subtle movement her husband had just made. Draco’s expression was horrified, but his voice was lost. He couldn’t say anything. He could not fight it. He knew it was his fate. That everything he had ever done had surely come down to this.

The horrifying time he had spent in the last months at Malfoy Manor came flashing back. He had been living under the same roof with the Army of Darkness, not a day passing without him hearing screams from the tortured victims of witches and wizards opposing the Dark Lord. Those were the days when he felt his innards were upside down. He remembered he threw up more than once. He could never stand the sick atmosphere in his father’s manor. But he was a Malfoy. More than that, he was a Death Eater.

The three Malfoys were escorted out of Hogwarts without much, if any, resistance. They walked to a portkey, temporarily positioned to connect the school with the Ministry. From there, they could travel along the underground tunnels to Azkaban.

Harry frowned. One fact made a clear point in his head. Narcissa had saved him. Narcissa Malfoy lied to Voldemort – it was the only reason he was able to come back to Hogwarts and finish the Dark Lord. If she hadn’t lied to Voldemort, or if fate hadn’t been friendly…had Voldemort sent a different Death Eater to check on him back then, he might not have survived it.

Dismissing his wandering thoughts, Harry took off his cloak and walked to Ron and the Weasleys. There was Ginny. Oh how he missed her terribly. Ginny noticed his presence, stood up and silently hugged him. Harry returned the hug, feeling warm and peaceful, safe, for the first time in many years.

It was like when Dumbledore had died. It was Ginny who had approached him and taken him away. Only her words, only her touch, could reach him. Now, after everything was over, he felt just the aftershock effect – waves and sensations of tremendous emotions crashing over him. The weight of the long-lasting travel of his Horcrux quest, the terrible fight he had with Ron, the dreadful silence with only him and Hermione in the woods, feeling lost about practically everything… the journey had seemed never-ending. Everything had come rushing in simultaneously. Harry felt heat in his eyes. He fought it. He only tightened his hug, and let his face burry under Ginny’s silky, long, red hair.

After a moment, they parted. Rubbing his nose casually, careful not to act weird in front of eyes watching, he asked to no one in particular, “So how are we?”

It was Mr. Weasley that answered, though not immediately. “The Death Eaters have been taken care of. The last ones were the Malfoys. There are fifty-three victims from our side. Their families have been informed; some have already come to collect the remains. Some of them…some are still here…” Arthur’s voice broke off with difficulty.

There was a pause. Ted Tonks were holding Andromeda’s hands. “We will move Nymphadora, Lupin and Fred as soon as possible.” he said with a more steady voice, “We might plan their ceremonial together.”

“Where are you planning to…to hold the ceremonial?” Harry needed to push the words out. But as painful as it was, he had to ask. This time, Bill answered. “We have a piece of land on the hill near the Burrow. It is reserved as our family resting place for generations, since our grandfathers’ time.”

There was silence again. Harry looked at George, who was the most somber of them all. He did not cry, he was not angry, he did not… do, anything. He had a blank expression on his face, nothing more. Harry felt really terrible. George was hurt to the point where he could feel nothing. He had been shutting down. There was no trace of sadness or loss at all. And Harry knew that it was not a good sign.

“Well, kids, why don’t you three go back to your dorm and have a good rest. We have enough aurors, teachers, and those official people from Ministry passing here and there every now and then. Not that there’s a threat since the Dark Lord is dead now. I think we could do just fine and call it a day.” said Mrs. Weasley, putting up a strained smile and urging the three of them to have a rest.

Harry obeyed. Ron was reluctant to leave his family, but Hermione took him by the hand and persuaded him. The three of them walked back to Gryffindor common room. They split up and Hermione went to her dorm, after kissing Ron good night and hugging Harry.

It was almost a year since their last visit to the dormitory, right after the last night of their sixth year. The place hadn’t changed. The beds with their trunks, though obviously Harry’s and Ron’s bed had no trunks beside them, nor were Dean’s and some others, were still there in a perfect condition, as always. The beds got bigger and bigger to fit their growth, starting from when they were kids until last year. Harry flung himself onto his bed, relieved. Beside him, he heard Ron doing the same. Closing his eyes, he soon fell asleep.

CHAPTER TWO: Acceptance


When Harry was peacefully asleep, the aftermath in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had just begun.

It was a brand new day worthy of history. Laughter and joy, congratulations and celebrations were spread all over the world. Owls and patronouses were used to share the good news to every friend and family. The word of Harry Potter defeating Voldemort only managed to boost Harry’s fame and reputation even more. Every witch and wizard living on earth would speak highly of his name, and many would cry in joy and give their praise.

However, the victory came at a price. The ground zero, where the battle had taken place, was severely damaged. The gate of Hogwarts was broken, its gardens and walls all ruined and damaged. Bricks and glass fell into pieces, structures bent and collapsed.

Professor McGonagall took over as the leading authority concerning Hogwarts’ current state. With the help of every teacher, prefect, senior student, even ghost, she collected situation reports on the severity of the damage done. McGonagall formed four teams to inspect each house and the whole building immediately, but only with full caution. She would not risk any danger of falling bricks or collapsing staircases on anyone, therefore she insisted that only the teachers and conscientious 6th and 7th year students could perform the inspection. The students, of course, were more than willing to help. They would do anything—everything—to be part of this glorious day. Some of the ministry people would love to come along too, and McGonagall couldn’t refuse their offer. They could use all the help possible.

To a severely damaged level, McGonagall assigned only terrific wizards and witches to go and fix them. On the spot where Fred was killed, they needed at least ten witches and wizards working together to clear the path and put the walls and floors back together. It was an enormous job, as some parts of the wall were completely ruined and collapsed.

For a moment, McGonagall’s work station was temporarily moved into the Great Hall, to the teachers’ table where Dumbledore usually sat every dinner. The Headmaster’s—now Headmistress’—office was rendered obsolete since the traffic was very high with everyone trying to report things every now and then. Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout assisted McGonagall, helping her decide which damage would be the first priority to handle and which could wait for a later moment.

By noon Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Tonks had already left with the bodies of their son and daughter along with George, Fleur and Percy. Ginny, Bill and Charlie, however, remained in Hogwarts to help and monitor new changes.

“How’s George doing?” asked Bill to Ginny. Her sister had just come back inside from seeing her family apparate outside the school grounds. She shook her head wearily. “Like you just saw him.”

Bill sighed. If only George had cried—or showed any kind of emotion, it would have been better. Ginny sighed heavily. “Enough for one day.” she said, “I won’t lose another brother.” Her expression was cold, but painful, as if she remembered a far away memory of being stabbed.

Bill’s stare lingered at her for a moment. “Get some rest, Ginny. I am sure you could use some.”

His sister did not say anything immediately. She just kept staring at nothing in particular in mid air. Eyes unfocused, her minds drifting. “You know me, Bill. I won’t rest. Not just yet.” She smiled slightly. A cold, icy, weary smile. If Bill didn’t know Ginny, he might have had goosebumps by then.

“I will never, never, forgive that Death Eater for this. Not after what they did to Fred.” her voice was slow and steady, with a menacing tone full of hurt and vengeance.

Bill had always known Ginny was fierce, like their mother in a way, but much more independent and firm. She was never afraid to voice her feelings, even if that meant opposing her own family and friends. Now Lord Voldemort’s army had pushed her to the edge, and the rage was evident. Bill glad he wasn’t a Death Eater for this.

“Harry was really putting up some show today, was he not?” he said, attempting to change the subject. It worked. Ginny’s smile turned into a genuine one. “Yes. He… oh that was wonderful! How he countered everything Voldemort said, he really is—“ her eyes were beaming, and she couldn’t seem to find the exact word to describe her most dear non-relative, male friend, “..all that.”

Bill got the feeling that they would be around Harry for a very, very long time in his future life.

---

From all the Death Eaters who were imprisoned in Azkaban that night, one particular boy had felt most miserable. He could not, not, stand being in a prison, for something he didn’t think he deserved. He didn’t know anything! He was hardly played his part as a Death Eater. He joined them because his father told him to. He—for God’s sake—was just a boy!

But then again… after all, he might have deserved it. He was the one who fixed the broken Vanishing Cabinet in the Room of Requirement last year, smuggling Death Eaters into Hogwarts under the nose of Albus Dumbledore. He was the one who had been chosen by Voldemort to attempt to murder Dumbledore. Only by coincidence did Katie Bell wear gloves when she touched the cursed necklace, and only by sheer luck was Ron saved from the poison. But then, he was the very reason that Dumbledore could possibly be de—

Draco screamed in frustration in his cell. That one particular night was coming rushing back, once again. It never actually left him. It was still haunting him in his sleep, giving him nightmares. It was one moment when he stood one-on-one with the greatest wizard of the era, getting encouraged by understanding words from the man he was about to kill.

Draco kicked his bed—or more like a piece of board with mere clothing to it—and let out another scream. He fell on the floor, his head on his hands, sobbing uncontrollably. Little did he know he was a part of a chain which revolved around the ownership of a truly, powerful wand in history. Little did he care for it either.

The scene was replaying once again on his mind. “I haven’t got any options!” he could hear his own words on his head as he recalled them. “I’ve got to do it! He’ll kill me! He’ll kill my whole family!” And then he heard Dumbledore.

“I can help you, Draco.”

“No, you can’t! Nobody can’t…”

“Come over to the right side, Draco.”

The words were echoing. Come over to the right side, Draco. You are not a killer. I can help you.

What had he said then? Draco’s mind was blurred. How did he respond to the generous offer Dumbledore made? He seemed not be able to recall. People are good at remembering the good parts of their memory, not the bad ones. Come on, what did I say to him??

And he remembered, with difficulty.

“But I got this far, didn’t I? They thought I’d die at the attempt but I’m here. And you’re in my power. I’m the one with the wand. You’re at my mercy!”

Yes... that’s what happened.

“No, Draco. It is my mercy.”

And he remembered his hands were shaking heavily. And he realized, just then, his hands were now too, shaking heavily.

The moment of truth was happening to Draco Malfoy. His whole body was shaking. His father’s excited expression, the weird laugh of Bellatrix, the torture in Malfoy Manor…all his memories came flashing back to him, this time clearer and more vivid than ever. He saw those victims; he remembered the look in their eyes. Fear, loathing, disgust. He didn’t like it one bit. He didn’t want them to look at him as if he was a plague or disease. It bothered him. He remembered he passed out when he witnessed Voldemort killing Charity Burbage, his Muggle Studies professor. Perhaps that was the moment he had really had enough.

And then his mind shifted to when Harry, Ron and Hermione were brought to his manor. Oh yes, he had known that it was Potter they brought to Malfoy Manor a while ago. He had known, very clearly, that it was Potter, Weasley and Granger, taken to his place. He had said he didn’t know—he had said he couldn’t be sure. But Draco had known it was them. He just didn’t want to give them away.

The look in Harry’s eyes. They were scared and reluctant. The look in Hermione’s though, was a bit different. She scared of him… scared, but hopeful. Hopeful that he wouldn’t gave away her identity. Draco could never forget those eyes. Eyes of a mudblood. Why would he even bother to care what a mudblood felt, anyway? But Draco obeyed the eyes. He couldn’t say “no” since Narcissa had already recognized her face, but he didn’t give an absolute answer either.

And the cruciatus. Bellatrix hit her six times with the crucio!

Draco had never been friends with the Granger girl, nor did he wish to be. But she was a classmate he had known for years. The one who would always be his enemy, the one he loved to insult at all times. One girl that was so… familiar, compared to anything he had experienced in his own manor when Voldemort had turned it into his headquarters. And Draco was forced to witness her suffer. For six, simultaneous, crucio curses.

Draco let out a moan. He hid his face on his folded arms, unwilling to lift his head. Why did everything have to change drastically after Lord Voldemort came back? For five years, he never—not once, felt as troubled as the last year he stayed on Hogwarts. Life had always been easy for him—except the fact of Harry Potter’s existence which drove him mad every time he recalled it—life was well. He was the Prince of Slytherin, had always been Snape’s favorite. Everything was smooth and well. Yes, he was very good at distinguishing his life from his emotions—otherwise how else could he be so good at bullying people then? But one day everything had changed. And he was no longer a bully. Because bullies don’t kill people. Because brats get detention for punishment, not the Avada Kedavra…

The ‘what if’ scenarios played in his head, forbidding him to resist. What if he had accepted Dumbledore’s offer…? What if he had agreed to be helped? What if the Order—instead of pursuing them—were protecting them? What if… what if—

And then realization struck him. Harry Potter saved his life, twice. First was in the Room of Requirement, and second was when he was nearly killed by a Death Eater in the battle. He owed his life to the Potter boy, twice. Why did he save him? Stupid Potter, having compassion for an enemy…he was a weak man.

But then again, had Draco not tried to save him back in the Manor? Had he not intended to saved Potter, Granger and Weasley then? Maybe he too, was weak.

Draco felt numb. All of the animosity suddenly died out. He was in a strange state where he couldn’t hate or detest Harry Potter anymore. It felt odd and… different.

After half an hour, Draco was no longer sobbing. Nor did he shake uncontrollably. He sat there, beside his bed, motionless. His glazed eyes were much more steady and determined. For the first time in his life, he knew what he wanted to do.

---

Harry had slept for hours, and woke up just when the sun had set. But he had not yet opened his eyes. He listened to some of his fellow Gryffindor chatting indifferently. He realized how he missed this small part of his life, the comfort of his bed while listening to his friends talking and joking in the room, feeling safe, and at home. As his senses started to fully function, he could hear Neville’s voice.

“The seventh floor was the worst, I guess. The Room of Requirement’s been shutting down, I think.”

“The gate was the most severe, though. All the way through to the Great Hall. What did you guys do with seventh floor?” came the voice of Seamus.

“We fixed most of the walls and floors, but we can’t do anything with the Room of Requirement. Nor did McGonagall, I believe. I asked her how to fix that room but she said nobody knows how the Room was created at the first place. It’s not like it was scribbled anywhere in Hogwarts: A History.”

Harry frowned. The Fiendfyre must be eating the Room of Requirement to the point of damaging it for good. Harry felt a strange sort of loss within himself. The Room of Requirement had always been there for him, for all of Hogwarts students, in all history. Even for Tom Riddle.

He opened his eyes and moved his body slightly, changing his sleeping position. Neville and Seamus saw him wake, and gave him their full attention.

“Ah! You’re awake!” cheered Seamus.

“Hey Harry! Good sleep?” asked Neville, with a huge grin.

Harry felt aches in every part of his body at his attempt to get up, and still couldn’t shake away all the drowsiness. “How long did I sleep? What time is it?”

“It’s eight-thirty in the evening. You slept for 15 hours!” Neville answered, still grinning. “How are you feeling?”

Harry forced himself to sit, before muttering “bathroom” in a husky voice. He stood clumsily and stumbled to the toilet. Seamus and Neville laughed. “I’ll fetch you something to eat, Harry.” said Seamus, already jumping from his bed and hurrying to get some food for his friend.

While in the bathroom, Harry noticed how quiet his surroundings were. He closed his eyes. Thankfully, he had only Neville and Seamus in the room. Both were his close friends and he appreciated their company and this moment of peace he had.

When he got back to his room, Seamus was already sitting there with a full course of steak and kidney pie, savory stew, treacle tart, with hot chocolate and pumpkin juice. Harry’s lips formed a big grin, and he suddenly felt really hungry. “Where did you get all that stuff?” he asked, with beaming eyes.

“I told everyone downstairs that you were awake, and your house elf was apparently more than willing to serve you these.” said Seamus, happily. Now Harry thought of it, he could remember in a far memory the dish he was eating off as being one that Kreacher had made for him. He took a gulp of the pumpkin juice and moved on to the stew.

They heard Ron let out a small grunt, indicating that he too, was starting to awaken.

Seamus, Neville and Harry were joking around while the latter was enjoying his dinner. Ron slowly sat up on his bed and growled. “What are you eating? I want food too.”

Harry looked at him with eyes beaming and mouth full, chewing. “Have this!” he said, willingly sharing his dinner with him. “On second thoughts, maybe we could get you another.” Harry said, and he called up a name. “Kreacher! Kreacher come here!”

A loud clank and Kreacher presented himself inside the boys’ dormitory. The locket of Regulus Black was hanging on his chest, shining brightly.

“Master Harry! Master is fine? Kreacher is very worried. Master did not came back home. Strange people came in. Kreacher didn’t like them. Kreacher want to see Master but he can’t.” Kreacher said with a shaky voice and teary eyes. “Kreacher went to battle, too, he did.” he reported, with a tone of pride in his voice.

Harry smiled. “Yes, Kreacher. You are very brave.”

Kreacher’s voice cracked, “Master Harry compliment Kreacher. Kreacher isn’t worthy of compliment, Kreacher not.” he said, shaking his head, almost sobbing. “Master Harry fought the Dark Lord. Master Harry won. Master Harry is a hero, Kreacher is not.”

Harry got a strange feeling when he realized he might just have won this house-elf’s fondness and allegiance somewhere along the way. When it looked like nothing Harry could say to change Kreacher’s opinion, he said. “Kreacher, could you bring me another tray of food? It’s for Ron.”

Kreacher bowed and turned to Ron. “Master Ron fight too. Kreacher would bring him food, Kreacher will.” And then he disapparated with a loud clank.

Ron sat there with shocked expression, bewildered. “And to think I just woke up…” he said and stood, just like Harry did, stumbling out to the bathroom.

CHAPTER THREE: Dark Water


It was the fourth day after the downfall of Lord Voldemort. Harry thought about all that had happened in the short period of time that had elapsed, right down to returning the Elder Wand to Dumbledore’s tomb, to where it would rest for the rest of eternity. Despite Ron’s grumbling protests, he did so without hesitation or reluctance. If he were to have any of the Hallows, the Invisibility Cloak was the best choice. A tiny part of Ron had burned with the desire to shout “Expelliarmus!” at Harry and take the ownership of the wand himself, but he would not have risked invoking his family’s wrath over anything – even if it was the most powerful wand ever made.

On the third day, Harry was put into a press conference accompanied by Ron and Hermione. As much as he hated being the center of attention, he knew there was no escape. Sooner or later he had to do this – again, he was the number one… celebrity.

And so he went ahead, started by sharing with everyone the task Dumbledore had left him – to destroy all the Horcruxes. He skipped the details about the Hallows, though, fearing more people would be intoxicated with the idea of three wonderful magical items. He told them only the necessary information about their journey, and about the forest where he presented himself to Voldemort and was ready to die. The audience gasped. Rita Skeeter’s eyes shone with glee as her quill sped across her parchment. Harry wondered what it was writing about this time.

In the end of the interview Harry paused a bit. Flashes of cameras and the media shouting questions deafened him for a moment. He narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brow. He just needed to say it. Now. He really needed to straighten things up on the matter regarding the previous Headmaster of Hogwarts. He needed to speak the truth, and clear an innocent man’s name and reputation. It was now or never.

Harry must tell the truth about Severus Snape.

“I have just one more thing to say to you all.” he said, nervousness creeping into his voice. The audience was silenced immediately, eager to listen. “What I am about to say, I have never told anyone, except for Ron and Hermione.”

Some murmur arose from the audience. Hogwarts teachers, Ministry people, and members of The Order of The Phoenix exchanged glances.

“I cannot tell you how I know this. But this is what I can tell you. Severus Snape…” he looked deliberately to his Hogwarts teachers and classmates, “…was never on Voldemort’s side.” He paused. The murmur was getting louder; people were staring at him with bewildered expressions. “He was always at Dumbledore’s side. He worked for him, and he acted in Dumbledore’s name.” By then, a few people who were present when the fight took place remembered something Harry said about Snape having always loved Harry’s mother. There must be a reason for him to have said that, mustn’t there?

“People always mistook him as a bad guy. I myself, was one of them. But I can assure you, he did everything in his power to help Dumbledore.”

“But he killed Dumbledore; you said you saw him do it!” McGonagall cried to Harry with almost a shriek.

“Yes! Yes, he did. But it was necessary. Dumbledore had already dying when he was killed. It was just a matter of time even if Snape hadn’t raised his wand. Dumbledore asked Snape to kill him.”

The audience gasped again. By the looks on their faces, Harry knew that his words only puzzled them even more and did less to convince them. Harry sighed. “I’m sorry, I really can’t tell you how I know. That is…restricted information. Only available to certain people,” Harry said. It was true. If he told them the truth, then he’d need to reveal about the Pensieve, and then he’d need to tell everyone about the murder attempt by Draco Malfoy. Furthermore, he would have to divulge information about the Unbreakable Vow Snape made with Narcissa…it was too much and he was sure those weren’t the things he would want to share with the whole world.

He shook his head in desperation and said, “But please! If you believe me, if you think of me as your… savior, or hero. Just believe me on this and take my word. Snape is…was… good. And no, I’m not confounded.”

It was a very tiring two hours press conference. Both Ron and Hermione assisted Harry and helped him answer—or politely decline—questions from all over. Later that day Harry gave a lot of explanations to McGonagall personally, who listened with her mouth open with disbelief. But she, of course, would trust Harry. And she did trust Dumbledore with his judgment, so it wasn’t hard for Harry to convince her. And Harry trusted her judgment to tell anyone she thought should know.

That was yesterday.

Harry now stood beside Ginny and Hermione at Chastire Hill, several miles away from the Burrow. This was the place where Fred Weasley, Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks would finally rest in peace. All the Weasleys’ family and friends were present. Andromeda and Ted Tonks were holding little Teddy, tears flowing. The baby itself was sleeping peacefully. Also present were the rest of the Order of the Phoenix, Kingsley along with some other Ministry officials, and several of the Hogwarts teachers including McGonagall. Many students and alumni were also present. Fred and George had always been the magical twins who, despite goofing around and inventing trouble back in their years at Hogwarts, were very likeable and were loved by everyone. They were also Quidditch stars who had proved to be some bold, genius businessmen.

The hill was just beautiful, with grass and trees under a broad, dark-blue afternoon sky. The wind blew softly, not fierce, but serene. The tombs weren’t nearly as grand as Dumbledore’s, nor as shabby or plain as Dobby’s. But they were just right, made of granite and carved with golden ink.

They all stood in silence when Kingsley made the speech. Lupin, Tonks and Fred were all kind and brave and they had died as heroes. Kingsley mentioned that their very existence was a great assistance to The Order, and that he proud to know them in his life and be their friend.

Harry looked at Ginny. She seemed calm in her grief. She was wearing long black dress made of satin, matching bolero and scarf. If it were not for the circumstances, Harry would have fallen for her all over again. Harry’s eyes shifted to George now. He looked exceptionally calm and composed. He was standing between his mother and Ron. Harry couldn’t understand why on earth George didn’t show any kind of grief or regret. He knew George wasn’t disturbed. When he had asked Ginny a while ago, she said George was pretty much sane and logical, and he managed to have normal conversations. Very normal conversations. Even though she hadn’t heard him joke once since the accident.

When the afternoon had nearly shifted to the evening and the ceremonial was over, friends and colleagues disapparated and went their separate ways. The hill was quiet and eerie now that the sun had almost crawled under the horizon. Arthur and Molly walked with Andromeda and Ted back to the Burrows. Of course they could have Apparated, but walking would be better for their grieving hearts.

The young adults, though, still remained on the site. Charlie, Percy, Bill and Fleur, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Harry. George, however, attempted to go back immediately after his parents. Ginny spoke out.

“George, could you stay here just a little while?” she asked him softly. George stopped. He gave a quick glance and smiled idly. Harry’s stomach lurched. There was something not quite right about the smile.

“Yeah, Ginny?” George said.

Ginny hesitated for a moment, and said, “You know the river; the place we used to go and play when we were kids? The one where you and Fred pulled a prank on Perce?”

George tilted his head to one side, trying to remember, “Oh! You mean when we jinxed his pants so when it got wet it would fake a fart?”

Ginny smiled. “Yes! That one!”

George grinned, “Yeah, I do remember. Do you remember, Perce?” he asked. Percy mumbled and spoke. “Of course. We went there with a girl I liked, mind you. And after that she no longer wanted to speak to me.”

Harry smiled; he could clearly visualize the moment. “So…” Ginny spoke again. “What if we all go and visit the river? It’s very near, just around that slope. And we haven’t been there for ages.”

“Zat’s a good idea! I’d love to see ze place!” Fleur seemed very eager about the suggestion. Harry too, would love to play a bit more after such a depressing burial. Ron whispered to Hermione, “I said to myself that one day I would definitely bring my girlfriend there. It’s a very nice place. They got fireflies at night. Such an enchanting view,” he added, and blushed. Hermione blushed too, looking sincerely pleased and nodding happily.

George was grinning, “Okay then, let’s go there!” and marched ahead.

The river was near, about one mile’s walk. By the time they got there, there was very little light provided from the almost dark sky, and the moon was just about to take its place. But none of them were thinking about the sun right now. All breaths halted in wonder. The view was breathtaking.

Fireflies everywhere, emanating a dim light, beautiful to look at. The ground was humid, and the trees were big and old. The river was tame and flowing gracefully, the current slow and steady without ripples. The water was brilliant – dark with a reflection of the remaining lights. The air didn’t move; it was a total, utter silence. The world was silvery blue. The place was magical.

The nine young adults stood with amazement. For the Weasleys, it was like they were reminded of the beauty of this place. For Harry, Hermione and Fleur though, it was almost supernatural. Ron tightened his grasp on Hermione’s shoulder. No words needed to be said.

Ginny was the one who moved first. She walked past them, approaching the bank which held a taller and bigger type of grass. Then Bill followed her.

“You remember, don’t you guys?” she said, nonchalantly. With her bare hand—and a little bit of force— she pulled a handful of grass from the ground. “Grand mother Weasley taught us to make this…little boat.” she said, smiling as her skilled hands bending and folding the grass into a pretty little boat. With a tip of her wand, she touched the little boat and it glowed for a moment. “And now, this boat can sail for miles without being drowned.”

Everybody was quiet. They had a strong feeling that Ginny was going to do something important, but none of them knew what it would be. No one, except for perhaps Bill. As he quietly approached his sister, he took the little boat from her hands before calling George. “Come, George.” he said, and smiled a little.

George hesitated for a moment that felt like hours. Then, reluctantly, he obeyed. His steps weren’t definite or sure…it was as if he was scared of something. Bill took out a candle from under his robe, and gave it to his brother. George’s hand, very reluctantly, took it.

“Light a fire, mate.” Bill said calmly.

George was staring into his brother’s eyes, wondering what exactly he was trying to pull. Bill returned the stare with a more assuring look, and George obeyed once again. With the tip of his wand he touched it and lit the candle. Bill placed the candle on the little boat Ginny had created, and made them intact. He then placed the boat with the candle carefully on George’s hand.

“This is Fred, George.” Ginny whispered. “And you’re about to let him go.”

George froze.

Nobody breathed.

“Place the boat on the water, George.” Bill said slowly, his voice soft and gentle.

Like a puppet, George once again did as he told. It seemed as if he was loosing himself by this point. He knelt and placed the boat carefully on the water, and let go. As soon as the boat touched the water, it sailed away. George’s eyes were fixed on the candle.

“Look at it, George. Look at it.” Ginny’s spoke with a trembling but determined, voice. “It was Fred!” she whispered.

George wore a blank expression, trying to digest Ginny’s words. The candle was Fred? Why was he sailing away? Without him?

The candle was drifting even further. George knelt up. Without meaning to do so, he stretched his hand trying to grab and take back the little boat. “No..” he whispered. His face went paler.

Then it was reddening. With horror. With terror.

“Fred…” he whispered. The river carried it away; he no longer could reach it. “Fred…” his voice shaking with fear. For the first time since the accident, he surrendered to the pain of losing a twin brother. A part of his soul.

And then he screamed. Screamed his heart out and cried as he dragged his feet forward to the muddy ground and water attempting to retrieve the boat.

“Let him go, George! Let him go!!” Ginny was now yelling and cried too. Bill grabbed his brother to prevent him diving after the little boat. Fleur’s cheek was wet with tears. Hermione couldn’t help sobbing. Percy wept unashamedly. Charlie, Ron and Harry clenched their teeth with unbearable emotion.

George’s clothes were wet, as were Bill’s, as they both struggled to fight the grief. To overcome the sadness.

“He’s gone, George. Gone!” Bill yelled, trying to battle the screams and cries of his younger brother. “He’s not here with us anymore, George!”

George was very hard to hold. His whole body was shaking. It seemed like a part of his soul was ripped out and there was a huge hole inside him. He knew Fred was dead, he had seen the body. But unconsciously, he had refused to believe it. His mind had shut down. He couldn’t comprehend the idea that his Fred was no longer in this world. The thought alone was terrifying.

At least… until now.

After a moment, George was done screaming, and started sobbing. “Why…Why did he leave me alone? I—I can’t…”

At this point, Ron came rushing over and hugged his brother. He buried his face on George’s shoulder and yelled. “You’re never alone, George, never! I won’t let you! I’m sorry, I’m sorry...” Ron was sobbing too. And then all of them, all the red heads, Fleur, Hermione and Harry, ran to them and hugged them, trying to touch a part of George, to comfort him. They made sure that George knew, very much, that he never alone in this world. That he still—and always would—had the rest of his family and his friends caring for him.

CHAPTER IV: To The North Sea


Later that night, Harry spent some more time with Ginny on the porch back at the Burrows. They were both sitting on a bench, facing the Chastire Hill.

“How is he?” Harry asked.

Ginny smiled tiredly, relief was evident in her smile. “Still a bit of a mess, but he’ll make it.”

They both stayed quiet for a while.

“What you did at the river was brilliant. Who came with the idea?”

The girl threw her gaze on the far meadow. “I did.”

Harry’s eyes opened wide and he started to feel a new respect for Ginny. “It’s surely helping him to cope with Fred’s death.”

“Well it’s a start.” Ginny answered with a little smile on her mouth. They looked into each other’s eyes, then without no one leading, leaned towards each other, their lips touching. Harry’s insides felt warm and happy. Ginny’s kiss tasted different and unique, building up a strange desire from within him to grasp more and more of her.

After a long moment, they broke apart, catching their breath. Ginny was a bit red. Well, officially, Harry was still an ex-boyfriend. But their relationship came to a halt since the burial of Albus Dumbledore nearly a year ago and they still had not resumed it. Well it wasn’t like they stopped loving each other when the relationship was over.

Harry coughed. He felt really good, knowing that they no longer needed any status, or even words. He loved her and he knew she loved him back. Their affection to one another was transparent. Everybody expected them to be a couple, now that the threat is gone.

“Ginny,” said Harry, confident and calm. “Would you be my girlfriend… again?”

The girl laughed. “Silly!” as if you ever returned my heart, she added mentally.

But when she looked at Harry’s eyes her laugh faded. She leaned forward and kissed him again.

“Yes.” she whispered, and continued kissing him. Harry moved from his sitting position, now facing her. One hand wrapped around her waist and the other hand on the back of her hair, and kissed her like he never did before, felt fire rose from within him and he pressed more of his body against her.

“Harry, can you come in, we—“ a familiar voice broke in and ruined the moment. The two love birds snapped and broke apart. Harry turned away from Ginny, looking flustered while covering his mouth, his heart pounding fast. He cursed Ron for choosing only the perfect time and place to show up.

Ron’s face reddened. Hermione stood behind him, looking awkward and cursed Ron too for dragging her there.

“Oh.. you’re with Ginny. Oh yeah… I suppose…” he mumbled. “Oh come on, Ron!” Ginny placed her palm on her forehead, looking torn between anger and amusement. She stood and spoke to Harry, “Let’s go Harry, Ron is apparently requesting your presence.” with an unpleasant tone she was eyeing her brother from the corner of her eyes. Ron’s face was now had the color of his hair.

Harry sighed and chuckled. Oh well, there will always be another time, he thought. He wondered if he should put a spell on Ron next time he planned on snogging Ginny, just for precaution.

Harry followed Ron and Hermione into the sitting room. Suddenly he felt like forgiving Ron for butting in just then, after he saw the people who were present; Percy, Fleur, Bill and Charlie, Mr and Mrs. Weasley, and two more surprising guests.

“Oh, good evening, Mr. Shacklebolt, Mrs. Hopkirk.” he greeted politely. The atmosphere was stern and serious.

“Hello, Harry. Please have a seat.” Kingsley said. Mafalda smiled and nodded rather nervously.

Harry wondered what was going on, this was pretty late and very unlike the Minister himself to be around at this hour for nothing. He took a seat and waited. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny also sat. The living room was indeed packed.

Kingsley coughed.

“Well Harry, I’m sorry to interrupt your evening. We have some news we would want to share with you.”

Harry was all ears.

“As you know, the trial for Death Eaters would be carried out on the day after tomorrow. We have been questioning them for the past few weeks, and we have this… situation that might interest you.” Kingsley said. “Yesterday, we were questioning the Malfoys. Narcissa Malfoy claimed that she had helped you, lied to Voldemort when she was asked to check whether or not you were dead. She said she was the reason you’re still alive and managed to return to Hogwarts that night.”

Kingsley did not move his stare from Harry when he said this.

Harry responded almost immediately. “It’s true, Minister. When I was… miraculously survived, after Voldemort attempted to kill me, he sent her to check up on me. She knew I was alive. She asked me if Draco was all right, and I said yes. And then she lied and proclaimed that I was dead!” Harry said abruptly.

The Minister exchanged stares with Arthur Weasley.

“Honestly, if she didn’t care so much for her son and did not lie to Voldemort, I don’t know if I would still be alive. Sir!” Harry said again, right now with more urge. Mafalda Hopkirk wrote fast on her note everything Harry had said.

Kingsley coughed. “Well, it was certainly a major act. Why haven’t you mentioned any of this before?”

Harry hesitated for a moment, “I never got the chance. I didn’t say at the conference, I think the Ministry should be the first to know. But I know that a time like this would come. I’ve been saving it for today I guess.”

Kingsley nodded in understanding. “All right, Harry. I suppose, you could give your statement on the trial the day after tomorrow?” It wasn’t a request, apparently. But Harry was planning to do it, anyway.

“Of course, sir. Definitely. I’ll be there.” Harry agreed immediately.

And then he remembered something. This matter had been on his mind ever since he watched the three Malfoys getting escorted out from Hogwarts.

“Draco Malfoy, Sir. How—how is he?”

Ron, Hermione and Ginny looked at one another, apparently surprised to see Harry—worrying about Malfoy. Kingsley however, made a small smile and said, “The young lad was… pretty much in a better condition than I thought he would be. In fact, that is another thing we want to talk to you about.” The Minister paused, as if to make sure the rest of the audience listened. “Draco gave us his statement. He was ready to testify against the rest of the Death Eaters.”

Harry’s eyes widened. But to be honest, he wasn’t actually shocked by this news, if at all. Little did anyone know he had been… sympathizing for Draco, even caring, ever since the fateful night on the Lightstruck Tower. He was wrong about Snape, and he didn’t want to be wrong about Draco too. He understood that Voldemort only meant to use him to do his bidding, under the threat to murder him and his family. And after all that had happened, including the fact that he was nearly killed by a Death Eater in the Hogwarts battle, it was only natural that he would turn his back on them.

Ron scoffed. “Should’ve seen that coming - coward.”

Harry winced. He wanted to say something to defend Malfoy, but he figured it would sound strange, so he held back.

“Are you gonna release them, Minister?” came the voice of Ginny. Everyone’s attention was now to her. “You’re not gonna let some Death Eaters purposely escape Azkaban, will you?” she asked again, expression was stern and bitter.

Everyone sat still, some holding their breath, waiting. Kingsley returned her stare, calmly.

“Everything will be decided after the trial, miss. As for now I cannot promise anything.” he said with a tone of authority, apparently bothered by Ginny’s query. Harry started to worry whether he might be the only one who wished a better future for the Malfoys. But he knew it was the right thing to do. This might be silly, but they had never actually did him any harm. Yes, they were Death Eaters, but they did nothing to actually hurt him. But he needed to be sure. If he must oppose at least Ginny and Ron need to know what he was planning to do, then he needed to be sure he did not do it in vain.

“I want to have a word with Draco and Narcissa. Tomorrow, if possible.” Harry heard his own voice.

The Minister blinked. “Very well, Harry. In fact, I’ve expected you to do so. That’s why I came here tonight, instead of tomorrow.”

Blimey. He really was not a Minister for nothing. Harry smiled rather uneasily, and Kingsley spoke again. “I’ve already arranged a meeting for you—or more people, if you wish for Ron or Hermione or someone else to accompany you. By 9:00 AM tomorrow morning, be at the Ministry for Magic. We will take you to Azkaban.”

Harry lost of words for a moment. Somehow, Kingsley last sentence brought chill upon him. Tomorrow will be his first visit to Azkaban. And even though he wasn’t the least afraid of Dementors—because he knew he can always conjure a Patronous—but still, the very idea was not to his liking.

“Okay, Sir. I’ll be there.”

And with that, the matter was solved. Kingsley and Mafalda Disapparated, leaving Harry with the Weasleys.

“Harry, word. Upstairs.” Ginny said briefly, stood and marched to her room. The rest of the Weasleys seemed to understood while Ron, Hermione and Harry followed. In there, a heated discussion is non escapable. Ginny was clearly opposing the idea of him defending the Malfoys, and Ron look puzzled. Only Hermione seemed to side with him.

“Draco Malfoy is a bad guy, but he’s not evil.” she said, trying to defend Harry on his opinion, “He was a Death Eater, but not by choice. I say let’s give him a chance.” she said, with a very final tone.

Ron rolled his eyes, Ginny was white. “But he was mean to you!” she almost shouted in disbelief. “He called you—mudblood.” she lowered her tone at the last word, as if she was afraid it might hurt Hermione. The latter waved her hand nonchalantly and claimed, “Yes! Yes he did, and I hit him once on the face, so I guess we’re even. He never actually hurt me—or anyone—physically, though. Always verbally.”

“Yeah, because he’s such a coward.” Ron interrupted. Hermione laughed and shook her head, placed her hands on her waist and looked around tiredly.

Harry too, feeling a bit tired by this petty quarrel. The last thing he wanted is to have their small group divided. Really, when he just restarted his relationship with Ginny, this is not something that needs to happen.

“Listen!” he broke in. Everybody stopped and fell silent. “I was there when Malfoy disarmed Dumbledore, I heard them. I knew he was forced to do—whatever they planned for him to do. And I tell you, Dumbledore was willing to help him! He offered him his help and that Malfoy was not—a killer. Snape and Dumbledore—they both protected him at the Tower, don’t you see? They didn’t want him to be tainted forever for committing a murder!” he too, almost shouting, desperate for Ginny and Ron to see his point. Since no one seemed to oppose him, he continued.

“For someone who was once protected by both Hogwarts’ Headmasters with their lives, could I just turn my back on him now? I want to believe in Dumbledore, as he always believed in Snape, that Malfoy—Draco—is not an evil man.”

No one had spoke. Ginny looked confused and torn. Ron looked like he wanted to say something but on second thoughts, he might not.

“As for Narcissa… I know I owe her my life. Even if I don’t care much about Lucius, I do care about her and Draco.” Harry said. “So, anyone would care to come with me tomorrow? Azkaban, anyone?”

Ginny didn’t answer. Ron mumbled, “Sorry Harry, not ready yet—you go with ‘Mione…”

Hermione rolled her eyes, but then said, “Yeah, Harry… I’ll go with you. Azkaban right?” and smiled, mostly to assure herself. Harry wanted to hug her, and he would if only Ginny and Ron weren’t this sour, “All right!” he said eagerly.

“Just keep close to me, Harry. My Otter isn’t likely to stay very long.” she said with a worried tone. Harry grinned, Hermione never really mastered the Patronous charm. “We are not prisoners, Hermione. The Dementors won’t bother us.” he said, and with that, their little meeting was over.

--------------

It was 9:00 in the morning, Harry and Hermione walked through the Ministry lobby and greeted the receptionist. Soon they were both escorted to Department of Law Enforcement, at Kingsley’s office on the 5th floor.

“Good morning, Harry, Hermione. You’re right on time. Ready for a small trip?” Kingsley smiled. He stood motionless for a moment, and then stretched his hands to cover his desk. “I’d love to take you there myself, but I have tons of matters need tending by now.”

He looked at Harry, “You will be accompanied by Zephyr Grants, our young Auror. I believe he already graduated Hogwarts when you were on your fourth year.” he said, touching a yellow board placed on his desk with his wand, and muttered, “Cora Zephyr Grants!”

The yellow board glowed for a moment then faded.

“A new invention from Department of Research and Magical Development—a Department found by the late Amelia Bones—to summon anyone under the Ministry building. They’re now developing a trick for two ways communication though, now this only works one way.” Kingsley was eager to explain, proudly.

Harry grinned and muttered to Hermione, “Like a speed dial.”

Hermione fought a laugh, but not quite successful. “More like a pager.” she whispered, enjoyed this small distraction. Hermione was apparently pretty nervous to visit Azkaban, let alone to meet Malfoy.

They didn’t wait long. A man in his early twenties knocked and presented himself. He looked cool, with dark hair and tan skin, relatively handsome too. Harry had a vague collection of this guy from his early years in Hogwarts. That man was a Gryffindor Prefect.

“Minister.” he nodded.

“Ah, Zephyr, have you met Mr. Harry Potter and Miss Hermione Granger?” obviously, a rhetorical question. But Zephyr turned at Harry and stretched his hand in friendly gesture, “How do you do? I’m Zephyr Grants.” he said with a casual smile, and then shook Harry’s hand and then Hermione’s. They exchanged greetings and Harry implied that they never actually introduced before. At this Zephyr laughed, “I am four years your senior, unlikely to have anything in common to discuss back in Hogwarts.” he smiled, looking content. Nice man, thought Harry immediately.

“All right, then if you’re ready, we can go now. Azkaban, right? Narcissa and Draco Malfoy, appointment at 9:20.” he turned to Kingsley. “Yes yes, please, don’t waste another moment here. You only got 30 minutes each with Narcissa and Draco, mind you.” Kingsley reminded Harry.

Harry and Hermione followed Zephyr and entered the elevator. Once in the elevator, Zephyr touched a small screen on the panel with his wand and muttered, “Zephyr Grants.” The tip of his wand glowed and the screen turned red. Zephyr touched the screen again, this time carefully with his index finger. The elevator moved down to the lowest basement—apparently, hard to say because there wasn’t any button or sign—and soon be delivered to a cold room with hardly any lighting. They were greeted by four guards, to whom exchanged formalities with Zephyr, and proceed.

They continued walking through a series of confusing turns and arrived at shabby door signed “Remember Your Happy Place”. Zephyr muttered, “Hogwarts, seventh floor.” and with that, the door swung opened.

Harry blinked. “What just happened?”

Zephyr smiled. “Password, Harry. I believe you are familiar with the usage of passwords at locked doors? It reacts to my happy place, because it was my identification we gave on the elevator.”

Harry nodded. “Yea.. but, Hogwarts, seventh floor?”

Zephyr chuckled. “I referred to the Room of Requirement, Harry. Let say… a lot of interesting stuff happened in that place when I was student.” Harry can’t help but noticed a big grin and a hint of satisfaction at Zephyr’s look, and wondered what actually happened in that Room of Requirement. Hermione though, seemed to suspect something, as a bit of red shade flashing on her cheek. Harry’s rose his eyebrows in curiosity, completely clueless.

They entered and arrived at a dead end in a square-like room with a circle inside. It was pretty much an ordinary room, but what made it remarkable was a presence of Dementor’s replica in the middle of the circle. Pretty much unnerved. Hermione instinctively grabbed Harry’s arm in shock.

“Oh, don’t mind the statue, it was Fudge’s idea. Funny man, he was, making a portkey look like that. The previous portkey was a dull, triangular huge stone. This is far more interesting.” Zephyr grinned. Hermione though, especially, failed to see the funny part. “Even though… perhaps this one too, would soon be replaced.” Zephyr muttered, as if to himself.

“Pardon me?” asked Harry, Zephyr looked at Harry, and then to Hermione with amused expression.

“Oh, you guys didn’t know? I guess you didn’t. The Dementors—are no longer guarding Azkaban.”

Harry’s eyes widened, jaw dropped. To this, Harry and Hermione spoke in unison, shocked.

“What??” For as long as they knew, Azkaban had always identical with Dementors. Without those horrible creatures, Azkaban would never be… Azkaban anymore. How could this be possible?

The older man smirked. “Kingsley Shacklebolt ordered it. He said that after those Dementors deserted Azkaban and joined Lord Voldemort, it only proved that it was a wrong choice since the beginning to make them guard that place. The Minister believed their use having always been a mark of the underlying corruption of the Ministry.”

Of course! Now it all made sense, Harry should guessed just that.

Zephyr then smiled genuinely to the younger ones. “You do know that the Ministry is restructuring, right? We should have a chat later about it. But now… we shall proceed.”

The man marched ahead and waited for the two young adults to follow him. Harry was occupied with what he just said. The Ministry is restructuring! Won’t that be a perfect moment for him to enter the Ministry as an Auror? He had worked so hard for his N.E., and he was positive he was more than qualified—well, except maybe for the fact that he never actually had graduated from Hogwarts.

But all thought must be halted for now. With Hermione still reluctantly clinging to Harry’s arm, Zephyr commanded them to touch the portkey.

After the usual sensation of using portkeys, they arrived in a cave-like sort of mining ground. It was ahuge cave with high ceilings and an abandoned feeling lingered around. The air was humid and the lighting was dim. Harry saw railroad with carts, similar to the one Gringgots had. There was a small hut with four standby guards.

“Can you believe there’s ocean above us?” Zephyr asked to no one in particular. Harry recalled that Azkaban was indeed, in the middle of the North Sea. With a very uncomfortable feeling of realization he stared at the high ceiling. The fact that they were burried under a vast ocean amused him, and also bothered him to some point.

“ This is the first base to Azkaban, we’ll take cart from here.” Zephyr explained to both of them.

“Good morning, Micah. I’ll need a cart to Azkaban, with two visitors.” he said to one of the guard. The guard was not nearly friendly, had a long, straight face and bored expression. He only gave a curt nod and walked passed them to a cart, setting it loose and attached itself on the rail. The cart was not very big, with capacity of maximum four people.

Zephyr jumped into the cart first, and then Hermione and last Harry. “You two are familiar with muggle’s roller coaster, right?” he asked. The truth was, Harry never had the chance to ride on one—since he was deemed to live with the Dursleys—but nodded anyway. “Well, this is similar to it.” Zephyr smiled as the cart slowly moved forward. But it was barely a start. Next time they knew, the cart was already racing with super speed, up and down the railroad, dove in every slope, and jolted at every turn. Harry narrowed his eyes in thrill, couldn’t stop grinning. Hermione too, sitting beside him, looked pretty much amused and excited. They remembered their journey to Bellatrix vault not long ago at Gringgots. It was also similar to this, but the circumstances were very different and much less enjoyable.

Five minutes later they landed at Azkaban’s rail base. It was very similar to the first base, still with huge cave and high ceiling. Harry and Hermione were rather stumbled after the journey, but Zephyr looked unaffected. They followed him, entered a small hut and inside, they found another Dementor replica—much to their dismay. As they had done with the first portkey, they grabbed this one and transported.