Albus sat at his desk, rolling the elder wand back and forth on his desk, deep in thought about what to do about his wand. It was all but useless to him in its present condition, something he couldn't allow to continue.
Harry was still badly injured. His magic was nowhere near the levels he'd shown in the forbidden forest. It created a brief window of opportunity for him. A chance to defeat him and regain the allegiance of the elder wand.
The question then became when. He couldn't do it in a school full of students. That was out of the question. They would never understand why it needed to be done, nor the sacrifices required to build a better world.
The end-of-year feast was tonight, and tomorrow morning Harry would be on the train, going off to who knew where. He didn't have a home to return to, and the finances to go anywhere he pleased.
It would be difficult to track him down, and without the Evergreen resources at his disposal, it would be more difficult than ever to find him, at least until the start of next term.
He massaged his temples, felt a headache coming on, knowing that by the time the new year started, his window of opportunity may be closed for good.
'Alastor tracked him down once,' Albus mused thoughtfully, and with next to nothing to go on. He could only hope he could do so a second time.
His thoughts returned to Harry, thinking about what he did the previous day, creating the monument for the fallen students, something he was still kicking himself for not thinking of first.
It was so obvious in retrospect. A show of power, a heartfelt speech, exactly what was required to win over hearts and minds.
If he hadn't been so busy holding both the Ministry and Wizengamot together these last few weeks, he would have noticed long before Harry made his grand return. He was sure of it.
He sighed deeply as another thought struck him.
As much as Fudge needed to be removed, it was coming back to bite him now. His hand-picked replacement, Scrimmager, had sounded perfect on parchment, but turned out to be far less than he had hoped for.
Considering his time as an Auror captain, he had expected a competent administrator, not a man who needed his hand held for seemingly every little decision, and focusing far too much on appearances.
Albus looked up, hearing an insistent tapping on the window. Glancing up, he met the eyes of an impatient post owl.
With some trepidation, he got to his feet. It was the Quibbler. He had been waiting for the axe to fall for days. Skeeter's latest article, which would cover the battle at the ritual site, exposing the lies in the version of events the Prophet presented earlier.
He had ordered the Prophet to hold off on reporting anything yet, knowing he would only have one opportunity to put the proper spin on things, and he couldn't afford to waste it going off half cocked.
His response needed to be measured, and strike the right balance with the wizarding public, but as he took the newspaper out of the owl's talons, his eyes widened in surprise. It wasn't the Quibbler. It was the Prophet, and a special edition, no less.
He narrowed his eyes, making a mental note to give Egwu Sr. a stern talking to. The man seemed to think the old status quo still applied, but as he unfurled the newspaper, and read the headline he felt a rage over take over him he hadn't experienced in a very long time.
He hurled the newspaper across his office even though the headline was already burned into his mind.
Albus Dumbledore Steps Down as Chief Warlock.
By E. Limus
Albus paced around his office, glaring at the crumpled newspaper on the floor, seething with rage. He knew Ogden was behind this, but never thought he would have the stones to attempt something like this, or even what he hoped to accomplish with this idiocy.
Eventually, his curiosity won out, and he picked up the newspaper, glaring down at article as he read it.
In a candid interview with Albus Dumbledore he confessed to being the brainchild behind the National Media Oversight Board (NMOB), and pushing for the archaic rules limiting the freedom of the press, using his position as Supreme Mugwump to push through the legislation over the strenuous objections of the Wizengamot.
According to a source within the Wizengamot, it was not done with any malicious intent, but a genuine desire to improve the wizarding world. The legislation simply went too far in its application.
The NMOB will continue under the supervision of the Wizengamot, but with a far more limited scope and sensible mandate.
The requirement for all media to be sent to the NMOB for approval prior to printing will be stricken, along with the jail time for non compliance.
Going forward, the NMOB will take on a more passive role, reviewing media once it is printed to confirm accuracy, and leveling fines for untruths, or other falsehoods, along with mandating the printing retractions when required.
Albus clenched his fists around the newspaper, fighting the urge to tear it to shreds. They had taken his ideas to soften the tone legislation while still keeping its core functions, all while laying the blame at his feet for their own screw ups.
The newly instated Chief Warlock, Tiberius Ogden, who has faithfully served on the Wizengamot for the past sixteen years, had this to say:
Albus Dumbledore, who I count as a dear friend confessed to me he had far too much on his plate for a man of his years, and after the issues with the NMOB legislation he thought it was best to step back from politics, and focus more on his first love, teaching.
As many of you are no doubt aware, Albus Dumbledore will be one hundred and ten years old this coming August, and is looking to wind down his career over the next few years. (see pages 3-4 for a brief history of his many accomplishments including the twelve uses of dragon's blood).
'This was his idea,' Ogden went on to say. 'And I commend him for it. Hogwarts is in dire financial straits with the numerous repairs required for the castle.'
'Albus came to me, offering to take on the duties held by former Deputy Headmistress Olivia Green, who tragically died defending her students, sighting the need to reduce spending at Hogwarts, and allocate more funds to repairs.'
Albus growled, tightening his grip on the newspaper, infuriated by Ogden's gall. He could see his plan for what it was. 'It's so simple, even a toddler could see it,' he seethed. He didn't just want his job, he wanted him out of the way entirely.
Keeping him on as headmaster was no kindness. It was a way to keep him busy, limiting his time, and resources. Taking away his deputy was simply the icing on the cake.
Without the Evergreen funds to keep the various members of the Wizengamot in check, Ogden had taken advantage of the temporary power vacuum, and ousted him.
He glared at the newspaper, vowing to pay back Ogden for this. It would take time, more, now that Ogden had pulled off his little stunt, but men like him only cared about two things: greed and power. It made them predictable, and easy to lead astray.
They didn't have vision; they didn't understand sacrifice, and their own natures would expose their failures and shortcomings. That would come far sooner than any of those fools expected. He would make sure of it, and this time he wouldn't step in to fix their mistakes.
For the time being, he would have to grin and bear it, going along with this farce. The Prophet was not interested in the truth, and certainly wouldn't publish his version of events, not until the truth became impossible to ignore.
When that day came, he would be ready. He would pay his former allies back ten fold for stabbing him in the back.
Over the years, he'd learned where many of the skeletons had been buried, and he would expose them all in due time.
***
Harry stood in his mindscape alongside Merlin, surveying the state of his mind, magic, and body. It looked as if he was in a field with an overcast sky, but there were no buildings or structures like before, just an endless green field.
"I think you've recovered enough to make some more repairs," Merlin said, surveying Harry's mindscape.
"Where do we start?" Harry asked.
"Just like before, imagine a structure forming, a building to house your thoughts," Merlin explained.
"Like the stone room?" Harry asked.
"Not quite," Merlin replied. "Make it bigger, a lot bigger."
Harry nodded, concentrating as he stared in front of him, watching as large stone slabs rose from the ground, forming a crude box. Heading Merlin's words, he expanded it, making it roughly the size of Potter Manor.
"Good," Merlin replied as Harry gasped for breath, the act of raising the stones taking more out of him than he cared to admit.
Harry looked at the stone slabs, seeing the deep cracks and fissures in the stone. It looked nothing like the stone room he had made previously, and while it was larger, it looked more like a collection of stone slabs rather than the mental fortress it was meant to be.
He placed his hand on one of the stone slabs, feeling the rough texture beneath his fingertips. He didn't need Merlin to tell him it was due to the state of his magical pathways, still heavily damaged and recovering far too slowly for his liking.
"You'll need to be patient," Merlin advised. "As I said before, your recovery will take time."
"Isn't there anything else I can do to speed up my recovery?" Harry asked.
"Not tonight," Merlin replied. "But this has helped more than you realize. This structure will act as a blueprint for your magical pathways to follow and speed up your recovery time."
"Merlin.. You said before that you blocked my dreams. Where are they?" Harry asked, curious but also worried at what he might find.
"…Follow me," Merlin said after giving Harry a long look, leading him to a cave that popped into existence after a short walk. "Be warned Harry, these are not just nightmares. They are the culmination of your guilt, regret, fear, and anger. It is a potent mix, and you need to be careful."
Harry nodded, looking at the mouth of the cave. "What will happen if I go inside?"
"You'll feel all of it," Merlin warned, "all at once."
"What if I just leave it here?" Harry asked, sensing the turbulent emotions emanating from the cave
"You can, for a while, but eventually the drawbacks will outweigh the benefits. Just holding them here like this is putting a strain on your mind. These feelings, these emotions, they need an outlet, and if left unchecked, will leak out in unexpected ways."
Harry nodded, thinking about George, and his growing anger issues, as well as Percy, and how withdrawn he had been, but also the reasons Merlin did this in the first place.
He had quite literally seen the face of death, and knew that wouldn't have been possible if his life hadn't been hanging by a thread. The mental strain of dealing with the nightmares, on top of everything else, could have easily pushed him over the edge.
Mentally preparing himself, he took a step forward, feeling a growing sense of anxiety as he went to the mouth of the cave, feeling the hairs on his arms stand on end as memories of the battle flashed before his eyes, seeing the faces of the people he'd failed to save, as well as the men, and women he'd been forced to kill.
The memories kept coming, faster and faster, until he fell to his knees, clutching his head as he screamed. It was too much. He couldn't take any more. He crawled backward, the memories finally stopping as he flopped onto the ground, breathing heavily.
He looked up at Merlin, wondering how he was supposed to process all of this. The memories and feelings nearly overwhelming him after only a few second's exposure.
"It won't be easy," Merlin replied quietly, "and unfortunately, I have no tricks up my sleeve to make this any easier for you."
"Then how?" Harry asked, feeling lost. "How am I supposed to deal with this?"
"You need to accept what happened, acknowledge your limitations, and make your peace with it," Merlin replied.
Harry could only nod, not sure where to even begin.
"Rest now, Harry," Merlin said. "You've done enough for one night."
Harry nodded tiredly, closing his eyes as his mindscape faded to darkness.
***
Harry sat down at the shore of the lake, thankful, it was the weekend, and there were no classes.
After what he'd experienced in his mindscape the previous night, he doubted he would have been able to concentrate on anything the professors said.
He looking out across the water, watching as the giant squid lazily drifted across the water, seemingly oblivious to everything that happened.
Then he glanced at the monument, seeing a few students standing around it, reading off the names, and tracing their fingers over them.
"That was a good thing you did, Harry," Hermione said, sitting down beside him as she petted Mrs. Norris. "I didn't even know we needed something like this until you made it."
"It looked like it hurt, though," Ron pointed out. "I wouldn't try something like that again for a while if I were you."
"Believe me, I won't," Harry replied with a chuckle, remembering how much it had taken out of him just to raise the stone, and how far it setback his recovery time.
"You should have waited," Draco admonished. "At least until you felt better."
"We needed it," Harry replied, staring back out across the water. "I lost someone… he was the father I never had, the one I wished I had. When he died… it helped, having a place to go, a place to remember him."
"What happened?" Hermione asked carefully, knowing how tight-lipped Harry was about things like this, but desperately wanting to understand her friend better.
"Nothing dramatic," Harry replied softly. "He just got old. I still miss him. He was the first person who ever cared about me. He didn't have to be," Harry continued, tracing his fingers along the grass as he stared out across the water. "He could have ignored me, but he didn't. He saw me."
"Who was he?" Ron asked curiously. He knew bits and pieces about Harry before he opened the vault, but his friend was notoriously tight lipped about his life before Hogwarts.
"His name was Darby," Harry replied. "He was a… house-elf," Harry added, hesitating, uneasy about sharing something so private.
"House-Elves?" Hermione asked, furrowing her brows, having never heard the term before. "What's that?"
"They're servants," Draco said, deep in thought. "They serve wizarding families, usually the wealthy ones."
"There's supposed to be a bunch of them here at Hogwarts too," Ron added helpfully.
"Why haven't I ever seen one before?" Hermione asked, looking between the boys.
"They usually stay out of sight," Harry replied distractedly, lost in his memories about the elf.
Hermione looked back and forth between Harry, Draco, and Ron, feeling like she was missing something important. The way they talked about these House-Elves, neither seen nor heard, but expected to wait hand and foot on witches and wizards.
She felt her hackles rising at the thought of them being mistreated, but Harry's words gave her pause. He clearly didn't see them that way, and even now seemed to mourning him.
"Why do they serve wizards and witches?" Hermione asked. "Do they get paid?"
"No," Draco shook his head. "They absorb a little magic from their masters. They can't produce it on their own, so they rely on us to give it to them, and in exchange, they serve us."
"That doesn't sound like a fair deal to me," Hermione pointed out, thinking about how little witches and wizards were giving up in exchange for what amounted to indentured servants.
"It's… complicated," Harry replied.
Draco looked at Harry, not sure if he should say anything. Darby… Dobby, the names were close, but he couldn't be sure, and he didn't want to get Harry's hopes up in case he was wrong, but made a mental note to talk to Dobby when he went home.
"What does that mean?" Hermione asked.
"Maybe we should talk about that later," Ron suggested, seeing Harry's shoulders slump, shooting Hermione a meaningful glance.
Hermione nodded, looking away, making a mental note to talk to Draco and Ron about it later.
"What you did Harry, especially at the end of the battle," Ron said, shaking his head, still in disbelief over what he'd witnessed. "How was something like that it even possible?"
"It's what I've been teaching you," Harry explained. "Locating your magical points, that was the first step, layering your magic to create a shield. That was the second. This would have been the third step."
"How does it work?" Draco asked, intrigued.
"You can use your magical pathways for more than just expelling your magic," Harry explained. "You can also draw in magic. That's what I did. I used it to strengthen the power of my spells."
"You've never done something on a scale like that before," Hermione said, remembering how Harry had practically glowed with power near the end of the battle.
"What happened at the battle was a special circumstance," Harry explained. "The magic the study group collected, it saturated the area when they started the ritual, so did the magic coming out of the portal. Normally there isn't anywhere near that amount of magic anywhere in the world for me to use like that."
Ron nodded. "Do you think you'll be able to do something like that again?"
"I hope not," Harry said, rolling up his sleeve, showing his friends the black lines going up and down his arms. "This is what happened to my magical pathways. Most of them are burned out."
"Does it hurt?" Hermione asked, concerned, looking at Harry's arm closely. She had seen them before after Harry defeated the entity, but didn't realize what it was until now.
"When I use my magic," Harry confirmed.
"But it will get better, right?" Hermione asked, casting Harry a worried glance.
"Eventually," Harry replied. "But it will take a while. I'm not sure how long."
Draco looked up, feeling a drop of water land on his head just before a downpour started. "Come on," he said, offering Hermione his hand to help her up. "Let's get back to the castle before we're soaked."
"Good idea," Harry agreed, getting to his feet as well, seeing the other students rushing back to the castle as well.
When they stepped inside the castle, they heard a gravelly voice from behind them, "Harry Potter."
Hermione, Draco, and Ron all snapped their heads, letting out startled yelps as they came face to face with the Bloody Baron, wands drawn.
Harry calmly looked at the Bloody Baron, having already detected his presence a few moments before he stepped through the wall. "Hello," he replied politely.
"It is good to see that you survived," The Baron replied, nodding his head in respect. "When you didn't return with the other students, we feared that your time was already over."
"It was closer than I would have liked," Harry admitted.
"And you defeated them," The Baron said, referring to both the study group and the alumni. "I admit, I did not think such a thing was possible."
"Peeves," Harry said, realizing why the Baron was here. "…Did he make it?" he asked, remembering the poltergeist's sacrifice.
"He clings to his existence, but his time draws near. When you returned, he asked to see you," the Baron replied.
Harry nodded. "Where is he?"
"The dungeons," The Baron replied.
"Harry?" Hermione asked, "what's going on? What's happened to Peeves? You're acting like he's dying," she said, only then realizing she hadn't seen the poltergeist since returning to Hogwarts.
"He is," Harry replied softly. "Do you remember when Andre attacked him?"
Hermione nodded her head, "but he's a ghost, he can't die again, right?" She asked, looking to Draco and Ron for confirmation as well.
"There are ways," Harry replied. "It's not well known, but certain attacks can disrupt the binds of magic that hold a ghost's essence together. That's what Andre did."
"Can my friends come with me?" Harry asked, knowing they would want to pay their respects as well.
"They may," The Baron said, turning and floating to the dungeon stairs.
Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Draco followed the Barron, eventually finding themselves at an abandoned classroom, the door covered in cobwebs.
Without looking back, the Baron passed through the door.
Harry turned the doorknob, pushing open the door to find the classroom filled with ghosts. Nearly Headless Nick, the Fat Friar, Professor Binns, even Moaning Myrtle, and the Gray Lady were there.
On the floor he spotted Peeves, but he was far worse off than the last time he saw him. His presence had faded, looking far more ghostly than before, closer to wisps of smoke than anything else.
Harry looked down, seeing the wound on Peeves's chest where Andre had struck him. It was black and scorched, standing out in stark contrast with the rest of his form.
When the other ghosts saw them, they silently parted, giving room for the four students to step forward.
Harry knelt down beside Peeves on the stone floor, frowning as he took in the sight of him. He looked sickly and weak, a far cry from the spirited poltergeist he was before.
He felt a flash of irritation at other the ghosts for not finding some place more comfortable for him, instead of a damp, abandoned classroom, realizing a moment later that such things hardly mattered to a ghost.
"Harry," Peeves said, a weak smile on his face, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Peeves," Harry replied solemnly, regarding the ghost. The Baron was right, he was just clinging to his existence.
He felt a surge of anger as he thought about Andre, and what he had done to Peeves. It was cruel and unnecessary. Peeves hadn't been a threat to him, a distraction, yes, but nothing that warranted an attack like this.
There were spells that could easily banish ghosts for a time, ones he was positive Andre already knew about. He could have used any of them, instead of subjecting Peeves to this drawn out, and painful demise.
"You survived," Peeves breathed. "I hoped you would… although you don't look it," he joked lightly.
Harry cracked a smile. He had a long road to recovery, and as much as he tried to hide it, he wasn't surprised that Peeves had picked up on it. "Thank you Peeves," he said. "You saved me. You saved everyone."
Peeves eyes glistened, a slow smile working its way onto his face, looking far more like Peter Pratchett in that moment that Peeves the Poltergeist.
"I didn't fail this time," Peeves said, his eyes watery, yet proud.
Harry nodded, knowing that he was talking about his unrequited love, Aurelia. The girl that died during the final triwizard tournament.
"No, you didn't," he agreed, feeling his own eyes sting.
"I don't know what will happen to me," Peeves confessed, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "The other ghosts, they say I'll just be gone… forgotten."
"No," Harry shook his head. "You are many things Peeves, but forgettable isn't one of them. I'll remember, we will remember," he promised, gesturing to his friends standing behind him.
"Harry," Hermione pleaded. "There has to be something," she said, tears trailing down her cheeks. "If it was a spell that did this to him, shouldn't there be a counter?"
Harry shook his head sadly. "I wish there was," he said, getting confirmation from Merlin as well. There isn't a way to fix this.
"You'll see her again," Ron said, his voice cracking as he fought back tears himself. "Aurelia, that was her name, right? She'll be there, on the other side, waiting for you."
"No," Peeves said, his eyes downcast. "I missed my chance a long time ago."
"Maybe you didn't," Draco said thoughtfully. "No one knows what happens after. Maybe… maybe you get another chance."
"It's a nice thought," Peeves replied with a resigned smile, "but there is a light when the living pass away, it isn't the same for ghosts, we just faded away into nothingness."
Harry could see Peeves's form wavering, and knew it was almost time. He wished there was something he could do. It didn't seem right that after everything that happened that Peeves would just fade away into nothingness. There had to be more.
That was the moment he felt it, a warmth in the pocket of his robes. He reached inside, his fingertips closing around the key that Lady Death gave him. He felt it pulse in his hand, then saw a wave of light form in front of them, turning into an ethereal door.
A hushed silence filled the room as the ghosts recognized it immediately, while Draco, Ron, and Hermione looked at in confusion, wondering what was happening.
They could only watch as the door slowly creaked opened, and a figure emerged, bathed in ethereal light.
Peeves had no trouble recognizing who it was. His eyes widened, wondering if he was dreaming, or just hallucinating, but when he heard her voice, he knew it was her.
He hadn't forgotten, even after all these years. He would never forget that voice.
"Hello Peter," Aurelia said with a soft smile on her face.
Harry looked at Aurelia as she stepped through the door. She didn't look like a ghost at all. If anything, she looked just like she did in her picture, albeit with a soft glow surrounding her form.
"Aurelia," he heard Peeves reply, his voice sounding stronger than it did a few moments ago. He turned to look at Peeves, surprised, not only to see him on his feet, his wound healed, but more than that he looked alive again, the same soft glow surrounding him as well.
"I waited for you," Peeves said, taking a step forward.
"I've been waiting for you too," Aurelia replied, her face lighting up as she took another step closer. "I knew we would find our way back to each other some day."
"You saw me?" Peeves asked in wonder, taking another step forward.
"I did," Aurelia replied, stepping closer. "But I couldn't cross the barrier to get back to you, not until this door appeared."
Harry could feel Merlin's longing as he stared at the door, his need to put down his burden, to cross over to the other side himself. The feeling was strong, with far more emotion than he had ever felt from the ancient wizard, but also the quiet resignation that came with knowing it was a path that would forever be denied to them.
"…I can't believe it's really you," Peeves said, taking another step forward. "It's not a prank, right?" He joked, but there was a seriousness in his voice, a desperation that tugged at his soul.
"No," Aurelia said, laughing lightly. "It's not a prank or a dream. This is real Peter," she said, holding out her hand to him.
Peter clasped Aurelia's hand, tears spilling from his eyes as felt a flood of relief, remembering how Aurelia's hand felt in his, feeling the warmth of her skin. It was her. It was really her.
He turned around, still holding Aurelia's hand, at the threshold of the door, giving one last look at the ghosts that had become his friends, his adopted family for nearly two hundred years.
He gave a respectful nod to the Bloody Baron and then the Gray Lady, before setting his sights on Harry again.
He couldn't be sure, but he felt Harry had a part to play in this, that this miracle didn't just come from nowhere, giving him a nod of respect as well.
"Wait, Peeves, Aurelia," Harry said. "Can I ask?" Not sure what the rules were for this, or if there were any rules at all. "What's it like… the other side?"
Aurelia looked at Harry, a hint of regret in her voice, giving Harry the distinct impression she knew what he was, and that she was speaking to both him and Merlin.
".. It isn't possible to describe," Aurelia said.
"Please," Harry asked softly. "Try. Are you at least happy there?"
"The other side…" Aurelia replied. "It's like describing colors to a blind person."
"…Oh," Harry said, visibly deflating.
"I'm happy, though… more than happy, especially now," Aurelia replied, looking down at her hand held in Peter's.
"Do you know if—" Harry said, before Aurelia cut him off.
"I don't, I'm sorry," Aurelia replied regretfully.
Harry nodded, feeling Merlin's sadness at the news as well. "Goodbye Peeves. I'll miss you."
"I'll miss you too," Peeves replied. He had only spoken to Harry on a handful of occasions, but it was enough. He was one of the few since his death that he counted as a friend. "And it's Peter," he smiled, finally letting go of his old moniker.
Harry smiled, watching as Peter and Aurelia stepped past the threshold of the door, watching as it closed behind them, and winked out of existence.
A long silence followed as both the living and the ghosts quietly contemplated what they had just witnessed.
It was finally Hermione that broke the silence, looking at Harry, searching for answers. "Harry… I thought… you said…" she said, struggling to even find the question she wanted to ask first.
"I did," Harry replied. "I was wrong… sometimes… sometimes miracles happen, too."
"Why just Peeves though?" Draco couldn't help but ask. "Why only him, why not anyone else?" he asked, looking around the room full of ghosts.
"We exist," The Baron said, in his gravely voice. "Because we couldn't put down our burdens, even in death," a rare smile gracing his face. "Peeves.. Peter," he said, correcting himself. "He figured out how."
Harry nodded, looking at his friends. "Let's go," he said softly, giving a respectful nod to the ghosts as he did.
"Harry?" Hermione asked as they reached the front door of the castle. "Where are we going?"
"The lake," Harry replied, pushing open the door as he stepped outside.
"Can it wait until morning?" Ron asked, wondering what was so important they had to go outside in the dead of night to do. "And can we also talk about what we just saw?" He asked his friends in amazement.
Draco nodded in agreement. They had just born witness to something no living person had ever witnessed, someone from the other side, someone that crossed the barrier between life and death.
"Harry, what did you ask her?" he asked curiously, kicking himself now for just watching everything play out instead of asking about the other side, like Harry did.
"I want to tell you," Harry said, looking at his friend. "But it can't be tonight. You aren't ready to know yet."
"But you will tell us soon, right?" Hermione asked. She had so many questions, not just about what they'd witnessed tonight, but about everything. How Harry knew everything he did, how he was able to do the things he did. It went well beyond some old books in a family library.
"I promise," Harry said, stopping in front of the monument as he pulled out his wand, adding one more name to the list. Peter Pratchett.
"Peter, wherever you are," he said, looking up into the sky. "I'll miss you, and I'm glad you found your happy ending."
***
Hi! Thanks for reading I hope you enjoyed the chapter. What did you think of Peeves's send off?
When I was planning out the story it didn't really include him, but this sort of evolved from his interactions with Harry and his friends as his backstory and character came together. I really like what Peeves became, and wanted to give him the happy ending he deserved, and while a little sad I hope that came across.
Next up I'll have the epilogue to wrap up this arc, and setup what's coming up next. The next arc should be about thirty chapters give or take and will pick up after Harry leaves Hogwarts, which I will post as a new story.
If you would like to support me and my writing, please consider visiting https://taplink.cc/jumpin for all the stories I'm currently working on and early access to the Epilogue of Legacy of Merlin, and the first three chapters of book 2, Legacy of Shadows, along with some character portraits for Merlin, Morgan and Nimue, and an audio versions of the chapters.