"Didn't get it—what's the invitation for?" Potter asked, frowning at the official-looking paper.
"To the ceremonial execution of the Dark Lord," replied Higgs, more versed in bureaucratic jargon, after skimming the document. "Take me with you, will you? I'd love to see what kind of monster he turned out to be!"
"No problem, but it might be dangerous there," Harry pointed out.
"Ah, you mean not everyone's thrilled about the execution? Some of his old pals?"
"Exactly, Fruitworm. Some might've slipped through the cracks. Or maybe Aunt Bella will snap and start throwing Unforgivables around, trying to free her hero... I mean, I believe in the professor's skills, but as they say, all it takes is one stray Avada..."
"There'll be a whole crowd of Aurors there, I'm sure," Terry shrugged. "Dad mentioned something like that. They might even confiscate wands at the entrance."
"Alright, you convinced me!" Harry clapped him on the shoulder with a hand still sticky from orange juice. "I'll sneak you in! By the way, Terry, why are owls suddenly flocking to your place? Your dad getting busier at work?"
"Nah, they're for me," he grinned smugly, biting into an apple that looked sour just from the outside. "Remember I told you things didn't work out with Hannah?"
"Yeah, due to irreconcilable differences in worldviews."
"Something like that. Well, turns out she admitted I was right all along. And that some Muggles are actually not half bad."
"You mean you, specifically?" Potter laughed.
"Of course me," Higgs smoothed down his reddish cowlick. "She wrote first, couldn't help herself. Says arguing with me is so interesting, she completely forgets I'm a Muggle. And besides, my dad's got some goodwill from our toothy magical friends, which, you understand, is a strong point in favor of my theory..."
"You should at least tell me this theory," Harry snorted. "You're being all mysterious about it!"
"Well, you never asked before," Terry shrugged. "You were too busy with basilisks, Dark Lords, and other nasties. Who has time for sociology in all that?"
"Definitely not me," Harry shook his head. "But never mind, we'll catch up! Come on, Apple moth, let's go pick out our formal robes!"
"Let's go, Lemon-Eater... Hey, can I bring my camera? Where else would I see a living Dark Lord?"
"There'll be more press than you can shake a wand at," Harry smirked. "But sure, bring it—maybe they won't confiscate it."
*
"One at a time, no crowding, form a line—form a line, I said!" muttered a hulking Auror while his partner thoroughly searched the guests, actually confiscating their wands.
"This feels familiar," whispered Terry, who had snagged an invitation thanks to his dad.
"Airport security check, what else," replied Harry, who had even bothered to comb his hair properly for the occasion instead of the usual hand-swipe. "Or rush hour on the Underground."
"Exactly. Look, the Lovegoods are here, the Longbottoms too, and—hey, there's your godfather with Tonks..."
"Yup. Good luck recognizing her—she's changing colors like a traffic light," Harry smirked. "How Sirius hasn't gone cross-eyed yet is beyond me."
"Ask him yourself... By the way, why isn't she in the security cordon? She is an Auror, isn't she?"
"Probably got the day off. Oh, and there's Auntie and the Professor... Terry, don't even think about calling her Mrs. Snape, she still twitches at that!"
"Then what do I call her?" Higgs asked, puzzled.
"Best not to call her anything," Harry said seriously. "Or if you must—'ma'am', 'milady'... you know the drill."
"Got it."
"Good that you did. Sirius teased her the other day and barely dodged..."
"An Avada?"
"A malachite ashtray," sighed Harry. "Smashed the window. It rattled like mad. And the swearing—if we had neighbors on Grimmauld Place, they'd have called the police. Or the Aurors."
"And the Professor?"
"Locked himself in the basement. Great lab down there—he decided to check on some experiments."
"Solid method of avoiding family drama," Terry approved. "Alright, our turn..."
After passing through the triple security cordon, they finally managed to squeeze toward their group. Naturally, the best seats in the massive hall went to Dumbledore, Ministry bigwigs, and honored Aurors, and from behind hats and shoulders, there wasn't much to see.
"This won't do," said Harry and began pushing his way forward, towing Terry and Luna behind him. The adults exchanged glances, shrugged, and followed. "I mean, I'm practically the main act here—next to the Dark Lord himself—and now that I've lost the scar, they've shoved me into the back row... Seventh row, no less! Nope, not happening. Good afternoon, Professor Dumbledore!"
"Harry, my boy!" Dumbledore exclaimed in surprise. "But how did you— I mean..."
"We're here as a family group," Harry explained casually, accidentally stepping on the Minister's foot. "You see, for some reason, they gave us war heroes seats by the wall. Grown-ups can maybe see something, but us? Barely a thing. So I thought I'd claim myself a little spot in the sun! I mean, next to you, sir," he added sweetly—then stepped on the Minister's foot again, just as the man looked about to speak.
"Yes, but these are honorary seats..." Dumbledore began, then paused. "Wait—war heroes?"
"Well, how come? Sirius and Mrs. Longbottom stood out in the First War, Tonks in the Second. You know Professor Snape... he's here with his wife. Luna is my fiancée, but she can't come without her dad… so there!" Harry blurted out in one breath. "And that's not even counting me. If people don't recognize me without the scar, I can just draw one with a marker, I don't mind!"
The Headmaster opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the very Auror who had led the capture of the Dark Lord.
"Indeed," the man said. "If the boy figured out how to destroy even one Horcrux—especially in such a dangerous and complicated way—he can certainly be considered a hero."
"Just one?" Harry looked offended. He pulled out a lemon, wiped it on his robe, and started chewing, spraying juice.
"You mean to say..." Dumbledore glanced down at his hand.
"The rest were me too!" Harry said smugly. "But of course, I didn't do it alone. Like you always say, Headmaster, teamwork and support are everything! Terry's my strategic analyst, Luna's got mad creativity, and well..." He noticed Snape discreetly shaking a fist at him and finished, "And the rest, we just had to leave to luck. Never let us down yet!"
"What kind of objects were they?" asked an important-looking man from the Department of Mysteries.
"Slytherin's locket, Hufflepuff's cup, Ravenclaw's diadem, Riddle's diary, myself, and the snake," Harry counted off on his fingers. "We suspected there was also a ring somewhere, but someone must've got to it first, since the Dark Lord ended up being caught after all."
Dumbledore made a strangled sound. The Minister dropped his bowler hat and sank deep into thought.
"However," the Department of Mysteries man said after a long pause, "Have you considered joining our department after finishing school, young man?"
"Nope," Harry answered honestly. "I want to become a Potions Master, like my uncle! Or a Healer, at least."
At that, Snape smacked him on the back of the head.
"As a relative now," he said sweetly, "I can punish you not only with detentions and point deductions."
Sirius laughed wickedly and immediately got smacked by his cousin.
"Behave yourself," she said coldly.
"I believe it's starting," Mr. Lovegood attempted to bring peace to the group.
The hall stirred, robes rustled, as a heavy curtain drew back, revealing a large cage on a pedestal. Inside the cage stood a chair, and when the crowd saw what was sitting in it, one of the ladies promptly fainted...
A small, shriveled creature—smaller than a house-elf—opened its red eyes and the first thing it saw was Bellatrix, Snape, and the Malfoy couple.
"You came after all, my loyal comrades..." it rasped.
"Is... is that the Dark Lord?!" gasped Bellatrix, involuntarily clutching her husband.
"What's left of him," the Auror explained.
"After my resurrection, my power shall be restored," the creature went on, clearly unaware of its surroundings. Then again, the setting probably reminded it of a Death Eater gathering: a dim hall, familiar faces, reverent (or rather stifled) silence...
"Come on, uncle, get a grip!" said Harry, stepping forward. "Your Horcruxes are all gone!"
He tapped his forehead where the famous scar used to be.
"Potter?!" the creature finally came to. "Harry Potter?!"
"Yup, that's me," Harry nodded. "See? No scar, and I'm still alive. Cool, right? Bet you can't do that."
"Bellatrix?!" the creature in the chair turned to her. She was sobbing into her husband's chest.
"H-h-horrible!" she managed to say, glancing over her shoulder. "This is who we trusted all these years?! This is who I loved?!"
"I've often noticed, dear wife, that your judgment is seriously flawed," Snape replied coolly. Judging by Harry's observations, he wasn't the least bit displeased.
"Wife?.." the former Lord didn't understand.
"Yeah, what about it?" asked Harry, peeling a mandarin. The press was reveling in the spectacle, their quills scratching nonstop. "Can't you feel the wholesome family vibe?"
"I think the Dark Lord is about to die without any external help..." the Auror muttered.
"I'm going to kill you, nephew," Bellatrix promised, then looked back at the Lord. "Merlin, what a hideous freak!"
"Professor Snape is much better looking," Harry chimed in.
"Well, at least he has a nose," Sirius couldn't resist and cast a meaningful glance at the professor's rather prominent nasal feature. Bellatrix even reached out and touched it. The Blacks were truly made for each other.
Judging by Snape's glare, everyone in the Grimmauld household would be wise to be extremely cautious for the foreseeable future and test all food and drink for… well, anything really. Not that most people would be able to detect his potions.
Contrary to what Harry assumed, Bellatrix would probably deal with Snape long before he could do anything to her. One only had to recall the monumental row she threw when her husband suggested they move into his house. That was the first time Harry had seen someone methodically smashing an antique tea set—off Snape's shield charms.
"I'm not going!" Bellatrix thundered, and the heavy chandelier swung ominously above.
"But I grew up there!"
"Then go live in that chicken coop if you want, but I am a born Black! And I'm staying right here — there's plenty of space… right, Sirius?"
The black dog cowering under a chair gave a tiny, frantic nod. Arguing with his cousin in that mood was clearly not a good idea.
"You're the chicken!" Snape suddenly snapped so loudly that a crystal dropped from the chandelier. "A smug, pureblooded hen!"
For a few seconds, Bellatrix was stunned by the sheer audacity, giving Harry and Sirius just enough time to scramble behind the massive sideboard. A mistake — because that very sideboard was what Bellatrix hurled at her husband a moment later, leaving Potter and Black with no cover.
"Oh, so I'm a hen, am I?" she drawled dangerously. "Well, let me tell you, your doghouse is even worse than the Weasleys' Burrow!"
Silence fell. Snape was processing the insult — and then hurled the sofa.
Harry and his godfather crawled army-style out the door, fleeing the incoming heavy artillery. Soon, an ominous quiet settled over the house.
"I wonder if anyone survived," Harry said aloud. Black, now in human form, just shrugged.
Pushing each other aside to peek through the keyhole, they saw the couple standing amidst the wreckage: Snape looking sullen, Bellatrix fuming. They weren't making eye contact.
"I said it in the heat of the moment," the professor grumbled. "Sorry."
"I'm not Evans. I don't get offended by stupidity," she replied haughtily. "Sorry about the house, too. It is Muggle-built, not like the Burrow."
"A shame we ran out of furniture during our fascinating dialogue," Snape said thoughtfully. "I would've loved to smack you with a chair."
"Oh, go on, say you'd lay me on the sofa!"
"Maybe I would have… if it wasn't smashed to bits."
"And what, you forgot you're a wizard? Got nothing left in that greasy head but potions?"
Harry and Sirius exchanged a horrified glance and made a run for the Lovegoods'. Just in case...
"What were you thinking when you set up this cursed marriage?" Sirius grumbled, staring at the Lovegoods' oddball house.
"He wasn't thinking," Luna said sweetly, greeting them and patting Harry on the head. "He guessed. And guessing right is a rare gift…"
Sirius just clutched his head, perfectly understanding whom to blame for his current "happiness"...
"Ahem…" Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Shall we begin?"
The Minister, whose foot Potter had once again stepped on, stepped forward, unrolled a parchment, and began reading in a droning voice:
"According to the decree of the Wizengamot, the so-called Lord Voldemort," — here he paused — "for murders and cruel treatment of civilians, for abducting civilians for purposes of torture and other uses, for the murder and abuse of military personnel — that is, Aurors — and their families, for subjecting ordinary people to persecution, humiliation, and torture, for killings; for wanton destruction of large and small towns and villages, devastation not justified by any necessity..." — Fudge took a breath — "As well as numerous crimes against humanity," — he paused again, and Harry began snickering quietly, not because he was stepping on Fudge's foot by accident, but to swap the parchment; the second one had clearly been written with some help from Higgs — "for initiating a policy of persecution, repression, and extermination of opponents of his so-called regime, an attempt to establish a dictatorship, and so on and so forth, is hereby sentenced to be sent beyond the Veil. Let justice be done — fair and severe!"
"Wouldn't an Avada be more reliable?" Sirius muttered.
"No one has ever returned from beyond the Veil, but people have survived Avada — your godson being a case in point," noted that same Auror. "And you, Mr. Black — might you be interested in joining the force? We could use all hands on deck right now."
"I'll think about it," Sirius replied diplomatically, glancing sideways at Tonks. It was obvious he was interested — just not about to say so in front of his cousin.
"Execute the sentence!" thundered a voice under the dome.
"I will still—!" the former Lord managed to squeak before vanishing into nothingness. Silence fell.
"Wait, that's it?" Harry asked, surprised. "Where are the applause, the standing ovation? Come on, clap, clap...!"
He himself started clapping first. Gradually the hall really did erupt in applause and cheers: "Hooray for Voldemort's defeat!", "Glory to the heroes!", and, for some reason, "More power to the people!"
"Potter," Snape caught the delighted teenager, who had already given out a dozen interviews about "how I destroyed the Horcruxes" (none of the versions matched, as Harry firmly believed one should write one's own legends, not trust amateurs). "Did you seriously say you wanted to become a Master?"
"Yes, sir, why?" Harry asked innocently over the rim of his glasses. "I've got some talent, haven't I? So... what do you think?"
"I think..." Snape grinned carnivorously, "that I'm not letting you out of my sight now."
"Wait a sec..." Harry frowned. "You always wanted the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, and now it's open again!"
"Potter, after dealing with you, I don't even want to hear the word 'monster'," Snape grimaced. "I've had enough with the basilisk... And year after year of explaining how to scare off a Boggart sounds even more tedious than brewing boil-cure potion. Especially since half the Boggarts would probably look like me."
Harry burst out laughing.
"Or like you," Snape added.
"So who's going to teach Defense then?" Harry mused aloud. "Should we ask Sirius? Or Auntie Bella?"
"No need to be so extreme," Fudge interjected. "We have a wonderful specialist — Miss Umbridge. She'd be delighted to take the vacant position..."
A plump woman in pink smiled coquettishly and puckered her lips. Harry rubbed his eyes. The woman didn't disappear. He wiped his glasses. Still there.
"Hmm," he said thoughtfully. "We've had a half-baked Voldemort in that post, a loony writer, a werewolf, a Death Eater… but I didn't expect an aging courtesan..."
"Show some respect, Potter!" Snape barked, who couldn't stand Umbridge.
"The boy is a little blinded by fame," she squeaked in a childlike voice and reached out to pinch Harry's cheek.
"Well, what can I say, I defeated Voldemort, I'm allowed to be," he snorted, dodging her hand. "Madam… I mean, mademoiselle, could you recite your credentials for us? Have you ever faced a werewolf with your bare hands? A troll? Our Gryffindors took one out in the girls' bathroom in first year... Have you ever debated with a sphinx? Tamed serpents? Looked a basilisk in the eye? Well, I have!"
The lady blinked and glanced nervously at Fudge. Snape smiled and added:
"I suspect that after Voldemort's disgraceful end, the only person one truly needs Defense Against is Potter himself."
"I am one of a kind," Harry agreed, giving the lady in pink a look like a snake eyeing a white mouse. "And I have good relatives, too. There's Black, the Snapes, the Malfoys… Want me to introduce you to my snake? She's a nice one, over two meters long, venomous..."
"Oh, Harry, is this our new teacher?" said Luna nearby. "Good day. Looks like it'll be a fun year again!"
"Er…" Umbridge managed to say, stepping back and bumping into an auror.
"You know, Cornelius," the auror said to the Minister, "why burden Dolores with this? She's got plenty to do in her main role. Let me find someone among the retired Aurors, those who've gone into mentoring..."
"Just not Moody!" Harry said quickly. "We don't have the fondest memories of him."
"Alastor was never a mentor anyway. Don't worry, there are plenty of candidates," the auror chuckled and walked off.
The Minister began fanning himself with his bowler hat.
"Snape, where are you?!" Sirius's voice rang out. "Get Bella outside, it's stifling in here, she almost fainted..."
"No need to shout," she muttered, but took her husband's hand.
"If it's what I think it is..." Sirius scratched behind his ear like a dog, "then I'm definitely joining the Aurors! Where did that guy go? Hey! Mister! Hey! I'm in! Take me!"
"Sirius is so impulsive!" Tonks giggled and hurried after him.
Narcissa exchanged a glance with her husband and quickly followed her sister, with Andromeda coming after a moment's hesitation.
The Weasleys walked past without looking back.
"And now that we've sorted out all those little troubles," Harry said seriously to his friend, wrapping an arm around Luna, "I can be sure we'll actually get to learn something in fifth year! Without all these..."—he twirled his fingers—"chases, ambushes, and adventures. I'm sick of it!"