The Potter Conspiracy

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Disclaimer:  I don’t own Harry Potter; JKR and her partners do.

Chapter Eighteen – First Blood

October 15, 1995 – Hertfordshire, Order of the Phoenix Safe House

Harry swore viciously as he felt the telltale sign of portkey travel.

Someone had trapped him with a letter delivered by Susan, something he should not have fallen for after the incident with the Tri-Wizard cup.  He had a brief second to process the fact that he would soon be in great danger, and then it was upon him.

Harry felt himself materialize and instinctively dropped to the floor; he did not have enough time to draw his wand and cast a shield.

Two curses sang through the air over his head, missing him by inches.  They collided with the wall behind him, knocking several framed pictures to the floor in a loud explosion of glass.

Harry’s wand snapped into his hand and he raised a shield just as two more spells flew toward him.  Two powerful stunning spells slammed into his shield, pushing his back to the wall.

Trying to fight his rising panic, Harry registered that he was in a medium-sized rectangular room that was clear of most furniture.  One of his attackers was invisible and firing at him from a corner; the other corner was occupied by none other than Severus Snape.

You motherfucker, Harry growled mentally, vowing to make Snape suffer if it was in his power.

Harry slowly rose to his feet as the protego shield before him took hits from four more stunning spells.  His attackers were relentless in their offensive barrage, and his only consolation was that they didn’t appear to be trying to hurt him.  Harry had no intention of repaying that kindness.

He briefly considered disillusioning himself, but there wasn’t enough time.  The moment he lowered his shield, he would be taken down.  He was outnumbered and in unfamiliar surroundings, but he knew he couldn’t just stay on the defensive forever.

Snape launched a powerful bludgeoning spell and Harry dodged quickly to his left and lowered his shield.

“Percutio,” he muttered quickly, hoping for a hit against Snape.  Snape sidestepped the curse nimbly, and Harry had to drop to the ground to avoid a precisely-aimed bludgeoning curse from his invisible assailant.

Growing desperate for a break, Harry rose quickly to one knee and screamed ‘fortus aegis!”  His solid shield immediately deflected no less than four hexes from two directions.  Pausing momentarily to think and catch his breath, Harry’s wand vibrated with the strain of maintaining his shield.  A seemingly endless string of curses threatened to buckle his shield, and Harry knew he had no choice but to go on the offensive.

Bloody hell, I’m in trouble, Harry thought urgently, eyeing the shards of broken glass that surrounded him.  If I could just find time to banish these.

Jumping to his feet and moving quickly to his left, Harry dropped his shield and ducked as two curses slammed against the wall behind him, scattering debris everywhere.

As he moved toward one corner of the room, Harry sent a silent piercing curse directly at Snape’s head, forcing the man to drop to the ground.  He quickly levitated the broken glass at his feet and banished it at Snape’s hunching figure.

Harry was satisfied to hear a grunt and muttered curses coming from Snape’s direction, but he had no time to gloat.  A stunner from the other corner flew literally millimeters beneath his chin, and Harry turned toward the invisible attacker.

“Confringo!” Harry yelled angrily in his direction, and followed it up with two more silent blasting curses.  A shield materialized in the corner where Harry fired, deflecting the first two curses.  The third destroyed the shield and slammed Alastor Moody into the wall with an echoing thud.

The now-visible Auror reeled in surprise at the strength of Harry’s spells, and Harry saw his opening.  He stepped forward and unloaded on Moody with everything he had, two ‘confringo’ blasters followed by a vicious piercing curse aimed at the man’s chest.

Moody stumbled out of the way of the first curse, but was struck in the shoulder by Harry’s second spell.  There was a small explosion of blood, and the old warrior was twisted violently around before he collided forcefully with the wall.  He slid down it unconscious.

But Harry’s momentary focus on Moody left him vulnerable to Snape.

He heard an unfamiliar incantation hissed from Snape’s direction, and Harry twisted quickly to avoid the path of an oncoming purple spell.  He was unsuccessful.

Harry was lifted off the ground and sent sprawling into the center of the room as a vicious slicing curse hit him in the chest and torso.  His wand slid out of his hand and rolled away from him.  A long jagged cut appeared through the ripped fabric of his t-shirt, and immediately began filling with blood.

Harry stared in horror at the growing bloodstain on his chest, the pain much worse than he would have expected.

He looked up hazily to see Snape standing over him, an ugly smile on his face and his cheek bleeding heavily.  Evidently one of Harry’s spells had found its mark.

“Oh, how I wish I could kill you, Potter,” Snape sneered, breathing heavily, “but we have another appointment to keep.  You are—.”

Snape was interrupted by a sudden pop in front of him.

“You shall not harm Harry Potter Sir!” Dobby shouted furiously, raising both hands to banish Snape.

It almost worked.  Snape was caught off-guard, but he turned to avoid the force of Dobby’s blow and managed to take only a few steps back.

“Sectumsempra!”  Snape spat, and Harry watched in horror as Dobby was unable to get out of the spell’s path in time.  The spell lifted Dobby off his feet and sent him flying into the far wall, where he hit with a sickening crunch.

“Dobby!” Harry yelled, his mind screaming its refusal to accept what has happening.  He would not, could not go down like this.

No, he thought furiously, no, no, no, reaching out his hand toward his absent wand.  He was only mildly shocked when it flew into his hands.

Snape turned his attention back to Harry in time for him to see Harry retrieve his wand, and he sent a bludgeoner directly at Harry’s head.

Still lying on the ground, Harry raised his wand and flicked Snape’s curse away with a silent shield.

“Confringo!” Harry growled viciously, willing his spell to blast Snape apart.

Snape raised a shield to deflect Harry’s curse, but, like Moody, he underestimated the strength of Harry’s new spell-casting abilities.

There was a sudden explosion of bone and blood, and Snape found himself seated on the floor, staring at his right arm in shock.  His shield had failed.  The boy’s spell had destroyed his wand and blown his right hand completely apart.

Snape reached instinctively with his left hand toward his boot, where he kept a concealed wand.

But Harry struggled to his knees and hit him with another point-blank blasting curse.  It slammed into Snape’s left shoulder, tossing him like a rag doll against the wall and spraying blood everywhere.   Snape sat up in shock and gaped at what remained of his left arm, now little more than a jagged bone dangling precariously by a few sinewy threads of muscle.

Snape looked up incredulously as Harry stood over him, his wand pointed directly at his head.

“Potter, wait—,” were the last words he ever spoke.

Harry’s piercing curse drilled him in the forehead and rocked his head backward, and Severus Snape slumped to the floor, dead.

Harry stood several feet from Snape’s body, glaring in utter hatred at the man.  He fought a sudden urge to blast his remains into tiny pieces.

Harry hunched over in pain, gripping his wounded abdomen with one hand and his wand with the other.  Blood was dripping steadily to the floor from his soaked shirt.  A sharp stabbing sensation in his chest reminded him how badly he was wounded.  Harry thought furiously, but he didn’t know enough about healing spells to do himself any good.  They were too risky to try in his current state.

He turned gingerly and stunned the unmoving form of Alastor Moody, who was still laid out in a bloody heap in the corner of the room.  There was no use taking unnecessary chances.

He stumbled over to Dobby and looked at the bloody body of his friend.  He could hear raspy breathing coming from Dobby’s little frame, but the elf was clearly not conscious.

Levitating Dobby’s body gently into the crook of his left arm, Harry tried to apparate away from the site of the ambush.  Nothing happened.

“Damn it,” Harry swore loudly, his vision beginning to cloud from blood loss and shock.  It appeared that there were anti-apparition wards on the place.

He stumbled through an open doorway which led him into a small foyer.  He tried the front door, but found it locked.  When ‘alohomora’ didn’t work, Harry took a few steps back and blasted the door to pieces, shielding Dobby from the effects of the spell.  Harry winced as wooden shrapnel dug into his back, but he didn’t have any more time to lose.  He and Dobby were bleeding heavily and needed to get the hell out of this place.

Harry reached the threshold of the door, but could go no further.  His body impacted against an invisible barrier, and he groaned as he realized that the doorway must be warded against his exit.  He didn’t think he would be able to blast his way through this one.

Harry panicked for a few seconds, then looked toward the room where he had just fought for his life.

“Fuck it.”

He strode as quickly as he could back into the room and toward Alastor Moody’s body.  He secured Moody’s wand and then cast an incarcerous spell around Moody’s wrists.

“Enervate.”

Moody blinked quickly and groaned as he came to.  Harry’s earlier blasting curse had done him no favors, and he was breathing erratically from wounds to his chest and arms.

“Tell me how to get out of here or you’re a dead man,” Harry said evenly as soon as Moody’s magical eye fell on him.

“Now listen to me, lad,” croaked Moody groggily, “You lay down that wand and I’ll—.”

“Reducto,” Harry muttered, and Moody’s one good foot exploded in a shower of gore.  The old man screamed in agony as he lost yet another limb.

Harry spewed fire out of his wand, cauterizing the stump that had begun to bleed freely.  Moody shook uncontrollably and let out a string of curse words Harry had never heard before.

“You either tell me how to get out of this place right now, or I’m going to torture you to death.  Slowly.  I’m not fucking kidding, old man,” Harry spat, still cradling Dobby in the crook of his left arm.  He was starting to see black spots in his field of vision, and Harry knew he didn’t have long to get away.

Moody took one look at Harry’s face and knew the boy was telling the truth.  Moody was willing to die in the line of duty, but there was no sense in dying here on the floor when Shacklebolt was waiting just outside the house.

“Aye, lad, aye,” Moody grimaced.  “There’s a ward on the house that’s keyed to you.  I have to remove it before you can leave…but I’ll need my wand.”

Harry stared intently at Moody for a few seconds, then knelt down gingerly beside the wounded man.  He lay Dobby gently on the floor.  Harry placed his wand against Moody’s temple and extended Moody’s wand toward his bound hands.

“If you try something,” said Harry in low, menacing voice, “if that wand even flicks in my direction, I will splatter your brains all over the floor.  Do you understand?”

“Aye,” said Moody softly, wondering if he was about to die.  He gripped the offered wand slowly and pointed it toward the wall farthest away from him.  He muttered for a few seconds in Latin, and then a white beam of light lanced out and struck the wall.  The whole house seemed to glow blue for a split second, and Moody dropped the wand.

“It’s done, lad.  But you can’t apparate from inside the house; I can’t take down that ward by myself.”

Harry nodded but otherwise said nothing.  He stood again and stunned Moody without comment.  At the moment he couldn’t care less whether the man lived or died.

Grabbing Dobby again, Harry made his way to the open doorway and was relieved to find that he was able to step through it.

The night air outside was cool on his face and he could smell grass and trees.  With an immeasurable sense of relief, Harry took two steps into the night.  He stopped short when there was a sudden blast of flame thirty meters to his right.  He raised his wand and waited tensely for a spell to be cast, but nothing came.

What the hell was that? he wondered groggily.

His vision now wavering dangerously, Harry staggered through the front yard of what he now saw was a small cottage in a rural area.  When he was sixty feet from the house, a tingle in his spine told him he had just crossed the anti-apparition wards.

Merlin, I hope this works, he thought desperately, picturing an open area near the wards of Bones Manor.

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Two Minutes Earlier

Kingsley Shacklebolt waited impatiently in the bushes near Dorcas Meadowe’s old cottage.  He was disillusioned despite the darkness, but so far no one had attempted to cross the wards of the property.

The safe house was warded so that noise would not escape it, but Kingsley knew that Potter had arrived by portkey as planned.  He could see the flash of spell fire reflected intermittently from several different windows.

Only he had not expected the spell fire to last so long.  He had even heard the front door blasted to pieces a few minutes ago.  The noise seemed to have stopped, but Potter had been in the house for several minutes now.  What the hell were Moody and Snape doing in there?

Shacklebolt’s duty was to perform a delaying action against intruders if the wards were breached.  He was not supposed to be a part of the action in the house.  But something seemed wrong to him.

He stood and walked a few paces to his right, trying to get a better view of the exposed front door.  He saw someone emerge from the dim light of the foyer, and was stunned to recognize Potter.  He was hunched over and swaying slightly, and appeared to be carrying something, but he was definitely alone.

Alarmed, Kingsley raised his wand in preparation for a fight.

Before he could cast a spell, a sudden burst of heat and fire illuminated the ground before him.  He hissed in pain as he felt something sharp yank at his shoulders and lift him off the ground.

The next thing he knew he was dropped roughly onto a carpeted floor, one he recognized as the floor of Dumbledore’s office.  Standing quickly with his wand still out, Kingsley looked around wildly in confusion, grimacing at the pain in his shoulders.

He saw Fawkes circle the empty room once and land gracefully on his perch, eyeballing Kingsley as he landed.

“Dammit, you bloody bird,” Kingsley spat, rubbing his bleeding shoulders.  “What do you think you’re doing?  You nearly ripped my arms off!”

He turned away from Fawkes and moved quickly to Dumbledore’s floo, hoping to get in touch with someone before it was too late.  Potter was apparently getting away, and he wasn’t sure what had happened to Moody and Snape.

An angry squawk brought him to a halt.

Kingsley turned to glare at Fawkes, who had ruffled his feathers and spread his wings to their full span.  Fawkes cocked his head and returned the man’s glare.

Kingsley slowly raised his wand, wondering just how one went about fighting a phoenix.  His wand stopped when his senses were abruptly assaulted by a vision of flame.  He suddenly felt as if he were suffocating, being burned alive in a maelstrom of black, red, and orange fire.  It felt like nothing so much as a vision of hell.

Kingsley lowered his wand slowly, suddenly very afraid of Fawkes.

The terrifying vision ceased as he lowered his wand, but Fawkes continued to glare at him.  Kingsley had no doubt that he was one wrong move away from being dropped into a live volcano.  He held up both hands in a placating manner and sat slowly in one of Dumbledore’s chairs.  If Fawkes insisted on his presence, he would stay right where he was and not move a muscle.  Everything else could wait.

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October 16, 1995 – Ministry of Magic, Minister’s Office

The next morning found Cornelius Fudge in his office at the Ministry, sweating heavily as he tried to make sense of the various parchments on his desk.  His closest advisors were giving him contradictory advice, and he himself had no idea how to combat the problem of the Dark Lord’s return.  He was nearly paralyzed with fear that a Death Eater would burst into his office and kill him.

When Lucius Malfoy had backed his appointment as Minister, he had envisioned himself growing slowly rich as he traded favors with the old families and governed a peaceful populace.  He had not aspired to fight any Dark Lords.

Fudge twitched nervously when there was a knock at his office door.  Despite the need for them elsewhere, there were three Aurors guarding his office.  Security in the Ministry was tighter than ever after the recent assassinations.

“Enter,” he said cautiously.

Relief washed over Fudge’s features as Lucius Malfoy entered his office.  As usual, the man was impeccably dressed and walked as if he were a king at his coronation.  Despite the return of the Dark Lord, Malfoy was not a wanted man, and Fudge had given specific orders to allow him entry.  An Auror closed the door behind Malfoy, and Malfoy tossed a casual silencing spell toward it.

“Lucius, thank Merlin,” Fudge nearly wept.  “Where have you been for the past two days?  I’ve been trying to reach you and I’ve gotten no response.”

Malfoy ignored the question and seated himself imperiously in one of Fudge’s high-backed chairs for guests.

“Cornelius, pull yourself together,” Malfoy sneered at the rotund, sweating politician.  “I have a proposition for you.  I think you will find that it represents a solution to your present dilemma.”

“Well, spit it out, for Merlin’s sake, Lucius,” Fudge whined.  “I’ve got the entire Ministry breathing down my neck, Bones is still injured, and nobody knows how we’re supposed to combat You-Know-Who.”

Lucius allowed himself a small smile at Fudge’s benightedness.  He truly wasn’t aware of the noose that had been placed around his neck.

“The answer is simple, Cornelius: you don’t combat the Dark Lord.”

“What?” Fudge blinked.  “What do you mean?”

“Are you truly that dense, you imbecile?”  Malfoy sneered in disgust.  “You knew of my former connections, and yet you accepted my backing when you wanted to become Minister.  Surely you must see that I had my reasons for wanting you in a position of power.”

A glimmer of understanding finally dawned in Fudge’s eyes.

“But…but…” Fudge stuttered, “it was just a political alliance; it had nothing to do with You-Know-Who.  I didn’t know he wasn’t really dead.  How could I have known?  You said he was dead!”

Malfoy resisted the urge to laugh.  He wanted the gravity of the situation to sink into Fudge’s thick skull.

“It hardly matters now, Cornelius.  What matters is that there are two paths before you,” he said slowly.  “One path allows you to remain as Minister of Magic, overseeing a magical Britain that is, shall we say, more accommodating to proper pureblood values.  The other path?  Well, that one leads nowhere, Cornelius.  Nowhere at all.”

Fudge swallowed nervously as Malfoy’s words sank in.  He dabbed the perspiration from his brow with an embroidered silk handkerchief that had been a gift from Narcissa Malfoy.  He didn’t believe that Lucius would assassinate him here in his office, but he knew his lifespan would be shortened drastically if he failed to agree to his plans.

“What is it you wish me to do?” Fudge asked, dreading the answer.

Malfoy smiled humorlessly.  “I was hoping you’d ask that, Cornelius.  Now, here’s what you’re going to do…”

Malfoy reached into his robes and pulled out several sheets of parchment; he leaned forward and put them on Fudge’s desk.  Fudge picked them up as if they were poisonous snakes, glanced at Malfoy apprehensively, and began reading.

Malfoy waited patiently as Fudge’s beady little eyes roamed feverishly over the words, shuffling quickly between the pages.

“You can’t be serious, Lucius,” Fudge whimpered, looking up from the parchments after a cursory examination.

“I assure you I am.”

“But…the Wizengamot!  They’ll never approve this, even without Dumbledore and Longbottom there to cause a ruckus.  They’ll remove me and throw me in Azkaban if I try this.”

Malfoy smiled again.  “Leave the Wizengamot to me.  You give me too little credit, Cornelius.  This moment has been planned for months.  You need only perform your role, and you will be regarded as a hero in the history books—the Minister who brought lasting peace to magical Britain; the great leader who finally corrected the grave mistakes of the past.”

Fudge wiped his brow once more with the handkerchief.  His complexion was pallid, and Malfoy wondered if the man might vomit.

“Potter was right,” he whispered.  “Potter was right all along and you had me butcher the boy in the press.”

Malfoy shrugged.  “Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it, Cornelius.  You wanted Potter and Dumbledore neutralized just as much as I did.  This is your chance to help return wizarding Britain to her former glory.”

Fudge sat back weakly in his desk chair.  “Oh, Merlin.”

After a few seconds of silence, Malfoy grew impatient.  “Well, Minister, will we have your cooperation or not?”

Fudge looked vacantly at Malfoy and then slowly nodded.  “Yes,” he said softly.  “You’ll have it.”

“Excellent; now here’s what you’re going to do first…”

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October 16, 1995 – Bones Manor

Harry awoke slowly, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the brightness of his surroundings.  He tried to sit up, but a sharp pain rippled through his chest.  He lay back quickly, trying to catch his breath and figure out where he was.

As his eyes focused, he realized he was in his bed at Bones Manor, and the events of the previous evening flooded back to him.  Apparently he had apparated successfully to the Manor.  He looked around, but there was no one else in the room.

A soft pop heralded the arrival of a small, female house elf.  She was somewhat disheveled, and looked at Harry with wide, fearful eyes.

“Er, hello,” Harry said hesitantly.  “Who are you?”

“I is Winky.  Winky is helping to watch Dobby’s Harry Potter,” the elf replied shyly.

“Right,” said Harry, taking in the raggedy, stained pillowcase that the elf was wearing.  “Well, er, thank you, Winky.  Is Dobby okay?” Harry asked hesitantly, praying to whatever gods there were that his little friend was still alive.

Winky nodded, her huge ears flopping back and forth.  “Oh yes, Harry Potter.  Dobby was hurt very, very bad, but Dobby will heal.  Dobby did his duty.”

“Thank Merlin,” Harry sighed.  “Winky, could you fetch someone for me, please?  My chest hurts and I don’t know what’s going on.”

Winky nodded obediently and popped away, and Harry used his moment of solitude to examine himself.  He remembered being struck in the chest by one of Snape’s slicing spells and bleeding heavily.  He opened the loose gown he was wearing and peered down at his chest.  He was relieved to see that the damage wasn’t worse.  There was a jagged and angry red line running from his right hip to his left collarbone.  The flesh around it was yellow and purple, but the wound was closed and didn’t appear to be terribly deep.

He looked up as someone knocked softly on his door.  The door opened and Tonks entered, followed by a slow-moving Amelia Bones.

“Wotcher, Harry,” Tonks grinned.  “Have a good night’s sleep?”

“You bet; restful and uneventful,” Harry replied wryly.  “Hello, Madam Bones.”

“Mr. Potter,” she greeted him, sitting gingerly in a cushioned chair that Tonks conjured for her.  Harry found it hard not to look at the left arm of her robes, which hung limply at her side.  “I’m so relieved that you’re alright.  You gave us all quite a scare last night.”

“Thank you, ma’am; I’m just happy to be alive right now.  Everything happened so fast, and I wasn’t sure I could make it back here.”

“Well, we found you passed out just beyond the main wards.  Thankfully you triggered a perimeter ward when you apparated here.  You were in quite a state, Mr. Potter.  I was quite worried that we had lost you.”

“Am I, er, alright now?” Harry asked.  “My chest hurts, but otherwise I just feel really tired.”

“You will be fine eventually, Harry.  You lost a lot of blood, but the wound itself was not life threatening.  Thankfully there was no damage to your organs.  You are likely to feel weak for a few days, but you’ll heal quickly.  We can give you a pain-relieving potion when we’re finished talking, but I need you to be thinking clearly for the moment.”

Harry nodded, relieved that he hadn’t been hurt worse.  “I can live with that.”

“Now, Mr. Potter,” said Bones, becoming very serious.  “I need you to tell me exactly what happened last night.  We know that you were taken from here by portkey, and that someone used the imperious curse on Susan to ensure that she delivered that letter to you.  Where were you sent and what happened?”

Harry frowned at the recollection of last night’s fight.  He hadn’t yet had a chance to replay the events in his mind, and they had happened so fast.

“I have no idea where I was, ma’am.  It was a cottage house somewhere in the country, but it was dark and I didn’t recognize the house or the area….”

“And?” Madam Bones prompted when Harry paused.

“Well, the portkey sent me to a room in the cottage, and Snape and Alastor Moody were waiting on me.  They tried to stun me right away, but I fell to the ground and then fought back.  It…it happened really fast.  But the short version is that…er, that Snape is dead, and I don’t know about Moody.  He may be dead too.  He was in bad shape when I left.”

Bones raised an incredulous eyebrow at him.  “You mean to tell me that…” she said, but stopped.  It was unlikely that Harry wanted to talk about the details of such a violent fight.

“Very well, Mr. Potter.  I am sorry to ask this of you, but it is imperative that I see your memory of last night’s events.  I need to be absolutely certain that Dumbledore is behind this before I can take action.”

Harry winced at her request.  “Madam Bones, I…well, I may have been a little…brutal, I guess…during the fight, but they were going to hand me over to Voldemort, and I thought they had killed Dobby, and…”

Bones held up a hand to stop Harry’s rambling.  “It’s alright, Harry,” she said gently.  “You were fighting for your life, and I wouldn’t prosecute you if you had used the killing curse.  I don’t intend to judge you at all; I just need to ascertain the facts.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded weakly, a little ill that someone would be watching him kill another human being, even if it was Snape.

Bones gestured to Tonks, and Tonks left the room to retrieve Bones’ personal pensieve.  In her absence, Bones looked at Harry maternally.

“I’m very sorry that this happened to you while under my roof, Harry.  Susan is devastated that she was used to trick you.  Rest assured that it will not happen again.  If it was indeed Dumbledore who sent that portkey, he will not leave Azkaban for the remainder of his life.  I will ensure it.”

Harry smiled at the thought.  “It was him, ma’am; couldn’t have been anyone else.  And please tell Susan that everything’s alright.  I don’t blame her at all.”

Bones returned his smile.  “I’m glad to hear it, Harry, and you may tell her yourself.  She will be remaining at Bones Manor for the near future.”

When Tonks returned with the pensieve, Harry reluctantly provided them with his memory of the previous night’s chaos.  He had no desire to see it again, but both Tonks and Madam Bones put their faces in the large stone bowl.

When they returned, Bones was shaking in anger, and Harry was worried that she would hurt herself in her weakened state.  She sat back in her chair and closed her eyes, breathing deep breaths and trying to calm herself.

Tonks looked at Harry grimly, but she nodded slightly to him and winked when his questioning eyes met hers.

“Those two would not have acted alone,” Bones said aloud, though her eyes were still closed.  “Enough is enough,” she said softly, “no matter the consequences.”

“Auror Tonks,” she said in an official tone, sitting up a little straighter and looking at her subordinate, “I am issuing arrest warrants for Albus Dumbledore and every member of the Order of the Phoenix.  I want every single one of them brought in and questioned under veritaserum.  I don’t care if I have to lock up half of the so-called Light wizards in this country; Dumbledore’s little group of vigilantes is going down.  You are to prepare the official documentation for me, and then we shall make a plan to find the bastards.  Dumbledore has no doubt warned them about last night’s disaster.”

Tonks paled at her instructions, but nodded hurriedly and left the room to carry them out.  She was still technically a member of the Order, but Dumbledore had not contacted her with news about last night or called a general meeting, at least not as far as she knew.

“What about Voldemort?” Harry asked quietly, surprised at the boldness of Bones’ little speech.  “Won’t he just attack even more if Dumbledore is in Azkaban?”

“It doesn’t matter any more, Mr. Potter,” said Bones tiredly.  “He is now just as great a danger to our efforts as the Dark Lord.  The fool seems intent on bringing down the entire wizarding world just to satisfy his beliefs about that damn prophecy.  Well, no more.  He nearly killed you and he put my niece under the imperious curse.  He’s going to Azkaban.”

Harry smiled at her words.

He moved to sit up further in the bed, but winced at the pain that lanced through his wound.

“Don’t stress yourself, Mr. Potter.  Your chest will likely be very sore for a few days, and you may need to spend the rest of the afternoon in bed.  Why don’t you take some of the pain-relieving potion that the healer left?  You’ll sleep until late this afternoon, but I’ll make sure you’re up before Fudge’s big announcement.”

“What announcement?”

“Oh, I forgot that you hadn’t heard,” Bones grimaced.  “Cornelius apparently has some important announcement to make to wizarding Britain this afternoon.  He’s going to speak live on the wireless at 4PM.  We’re all very worried, because we don’t know what to expect.  The bugger has locked himself in his office; he won’t even talk to Algernon.”

Harry nodded.  “Alright, then.  I am still feeling a little groggy, so I’ll try to sleep some more,” he said, as Madam Bones levitated a small yellowish bottle of potion toward him.

“I’ll see you this afternoon, then, Madam Bones,” he said, taking a swig of the potion and stoppering it.  “And thank you for everything.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Potter; rest well….And Harry,” she added softly, “you did what you had to do in that cottage.  It’s never easy to take a life, but you had no choice and you should not feel guilty about it.  I’m very proud of how well you fought.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” he smiled weakly.

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Harry awoke several hours later feeling slightly refreshed.  His chest was still very sore, and it hurt to move, but he felt less groggy than he had earlier.

Needing to relieve himself badly, Harry struggled slowly out of his bed and walked gingerly to the loo.  Examining himself in the mirror after he was finished, he was shocked to see how pale and bedraggled he looked.

Bloody hell, he thought.  I look like a vampire who’s been asleep for 100 years.

He did his best to tame his wayward hair and then returned to his room.  His first thought was to contact Parvati and tell her about last night’s events.  He also wanted to know if there had been any indication at Hogwarts of what had just happened to him.  He looked all around his desk, doing his best not to aggravate his wound, but saw no sign of the communication mirror.

“Winky?”

“Yes, Harry Potter?  You is calling Winky?” she said, popping into view.

“Er, yes.  For two things, now that I think about it.  How is Dobby doing?  Can I see him?”

“Oh,” replied Winky, showing surprise at Harry’s question. “Dobby is being in the elf quarters; he is not awake yet.”

“Well, please tell me when he wakes up, Winky.  He saved my life last night, and I want to thank him as soon as I can.  Just let me know if he needs anything at all.”

Winky nodded hesitantly.

“Also, do you know where my mirror is?  It’s a little hand mirror that I use for communication, and I can’t find it anywhere.”

Winky considered for a second.  “Winky thinks pink-haired witch has it.  She was looking for it this morning.”

Harry frowned, confused by this answer.  “Okay, Winky, thanks.  Do you think you could find Tonks and ask her to return it?”

Harry waited patiently while Winky performed her duty.  She returned less than a minute later, mirror in hand.

“Pink-haired witch said she is sorry; she is forgetting to return it,” said Winky, handing the mirror to Harry.

“Did she say why she had it?”

“No, Harry Potter Sir.”

“Thank you, Winky.  That’s all I need for now.”

After Winky popped away, Harry called for Parvati.  To his surprise, she answered almost right away.

“Harry?” she smiled, her face appearing in the mirror.  She looked flushed and a little sweaty, and her dark hair was pulled back in a loose bun.  Harry thought it was quite a fetching look.

“Oh…hi, Parvati.  Did I, er, catch you at a bad time?”

“No,” Parvati grinned, “not unless you consider soaking in the bath to be a bad time.”

Harry did a double take at this response, but managed to hold back most of his blush.  “Er…are you serious?”

“Of course.  What did you think I used this room for?  Potions was canceled this afternoon, so I came up here to have a soak,” she smiled.

At the mention of potions, Harry’s excitement about speaking to a naked girl fled quickly.  He frowned, and Parvati looked at him closely for the first time.

“Merlin, Harry, you look terrible.  What happened?  Is everything alright?”

“Um, I know why Potions was canceled, Parvati,” he said softly.  “See, I was sort of, er, attacked, last night…”

Harry spent the next few minutes explaining to Parvati what had happened to him the previous evening.  He left out the gory details, but he knew she could probably imagine what the carnage had been like.  When he finished, Parvati was staring at him open-mouthed.

“Holy fucking Merlin, Harry,” she whispered, shocking him a little with her language.  “What…I mean, are you okay?  How bad did Snape get you?”

“It felt bad at the time,” Harry shrugged, “but apparently it wasn’t that serious except for the blood loss.  I should be alright in a few days.”

He watched her closely, trying to gauge her reaction to the fact that he had just killed someone.

“You’re not, er, freaked out because I killed Snape, then?”

“No, Harry…you did what you had to do.  I just…it’s a little hard to believe that it’s real.  Merlin, you killed Snape,” she whispered, as if testing out the truth of the words.

“He had it coming, as far as I’m concerned,” said Harry distractedly.  “I just…I don’t feel bad about it at all, and that worries me a little, I guess.”

“It’s okay, Harry,” Parvati replied, trying to recover her wits and say something encouraging.  “You shouldn’t feel bad about it…he was trying to get you killed, so he did have it coming.”

Harry smiled weakly at her.  “Thanks, Parvati.  It’s nice to hear someone else say it, I suppose…did Dumbledore say anything to the school about Snape?”

“No, he wasn’t at breakfast.  McGonagall announced to everyone that potions would be canceled for the rest of the day.”

“Hmph.  I wonder how he’s going to explain Snape’s death.  It wouldn’t surprise me if he claimed I murdered Snape just to turn everyone against me.”

“I don’t think they would believe that now, Harry.  Everyone’s been talking about how you were right about You-Know-Who; I just can’t believe he would use the imperious curse on Susan.  Is she alright now?”

“Yeah, I think so.  Madam Bones is livid.  Don’t say anything to anyone, but she’s going to try to arrest Dumbledore soon.  Susan is staying here for the rest of the school year, I think.”

“Oh,” said Parvati.  It hadn’t occurred to her that Harry would now be living in the same house with Susan Bones, and it surprised her a little to find that she was jealous.  She would have to think on that.

“Do you, er, want me to say anything to Hermione about her apology?” Parvati asked hesitantly, wanting to change the subject.

“No,” said Harry decisively.  “Let her stew, for all I care.  I haven’t had time to think about it, and frankly I don’t care right now how bad she’s feeling.”

“That’s fine, Harry; I’d feel the same way if I were you…But she’s going to start pestering me if she doesn’t hear anything from you soon, and I don’t want her to get desperate and go to McGonagall or someone.”

Harry sighed.  “Alright, Parvati.  I’m sorry you have to deal with her.  I’ll think of something for you to tell her.”

Harry yawned and looked at the clock on the wall.  “I should be going.  Fudge is making some announcement on the wireless in a half hour, and I want to take a shower first if they’ll let me.”

“Oh, that’s right; I forgot!” said Parvati excitedly.  “Everyone’s been talking about it.”  She sat up quickly in the bath, and the mirror hovered in place momentarily.  Despite the bubbles concealing most of her body, Harry got a sudden peek at the uppermost portions of her naked breasts.

The mirror returned suddenly to an image of Parvati’s face, and she was clearly amused at the look on Harry’s face.

“Enjoy that shower, Harry,” she smiled.  “I need to towel off and get dressed too.  I’ll talk to you later.”

Harry could do little more than nod as Parvati signed off.

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An hour later a small crowd was gathered in the lavish room Madam Bones used to entertain guests.  Harry, Tonks, Croaker, Susan, and Amelia were scattered in various seats around the room, each dreading and anticipating eagerly the announcement that Minister Fudge would soon make.

Distracted after his talk with Parvati, Harry had forgotten to ask Tonks why she was in possession of his mirror earlier.  Tonks had not volunteered an explanation.

Susan had apologized shyly to Harry for her role in the trap that was laid for him.  Harry reassured her as gently as he could, but Susan wouldn’t meet his eyes and seemed to be badly shaken by having been used so cruelly.  She had always been an introverted girl, and Harry suspected that it might take her awhile to get over what happened.

The song that had been playing on Bones’ wizarding wireless screeched to an abrupt halt, and a moment later a male voice began speaking.  Five faces turned expectantly toward the ancient-looking device.

“We interrupt our regular programming to bring you an important message from the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge.”

Seconds later Fudge’s voice washed over the listeners in an important and pompous tone.

“Citizens of Magical Britain, it is my honor as your Minister of Magic to announce that I have just negotiated an historic peace agreement between ourselves and the forces of the, er, Dark Lord.  They have agreed to lay down their wands and cease all violence against the wizarding world.  The Wizengamot approved this new treaty in an emergency session early this afternoon.”

Groans of shock and disgust met the Minister’s words in Bones Manor.  A colorful variety of swear words were muttered across the room.  But Fudge had only just begun.

“In exchange for peace, the, er, resistance asks only that we promise to preserve the wizarding traditions that once made our nation great.  Though we at the Ministry mourn the recent losses of certain—influential—individuals, we must see this as an opportunity for our world: an opportunity to move forward without being hindered by those who would see the wizarding world wither on the vine.”

“To help maintain this historic new peace, and to ensure that our world continues to prosper, I have ordered that an additional 50 Aurors be recruited and trained for active duty.  I pledge to you that our world will no longer be disturbed by unrest.  It will be safe from all enemies, both within and without; on that I give you my word.”

Fudge cleared as his throat as he prepared for his dramatic finale.

“Loyal citizens of magical Britain, today is a joyous day for our country.  Today we have secured a lasting peace, one that will usher in a new golden age for British wizardry.  I join you in celebrating our renewal, and look forward to many more years presiding over this great country.  Thank you.”

There was a stunned silence following the conclusion of Fudge’s speech, and then the wireless began playing a jaunty-sounding song of celebration.

“Mother fucker,” Tonks yelled, unconsciously drawing her wand and barely resisting the urge to destroy Madam Bones’ wireless device.

No one bothered to correct her language.  Bones leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, and Harry thought she suddenly looked much older than her 68 years.  Croaker too had his eyes closed and was rubbing his temples harshly.

Susan had begun sniffling, dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief.

No one seemed able to find the words to condemn what they had just heard.  Voldemort had effectively neutralized any official Ministry opposition to his agenda; it even looked as if he might gain its active cooperation.

Croaker got to his feet and walked angrily out of the room.  He had already locked down the Department of Mysteries in anticipation of just such a debacle, but he needed to ensure the safe removal of its most precious artifacts.  It appeared that the safe houses he had secured would be put to immediate use.

Bones too had orders to give to her subordinates, but she was no longer certain that she was even the Director of the DMLE.  Would she be arrested or killed the moment she set foot in the Ministry?  She needed to contact those Aurors who had pledged their loyalty to her.  They would be able to tell her how the rank-and-file and pureblood Aurors were reacting to Fudge’s announcement.  If enough of them decided to remain loyal to Fudge’s ministry, she would soon find herself fighting a war on two fronts: one against Voldemort and one against her own government.  All thoughts of Dumbledore were momentarily forgotten.

Harry took the news better than anyone else.  He was still in a mild state of shock over his recent battle injuries, and the feeling of being hunted was nothing to new to him.

He suspected that the ‘undesirable’ citizens of magical Great Britain were about to find out what it was like to be him.

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A/N: There you go.  The greasy bastard is dead, and Harry got his first real taste of magical combat.  But things just got a whole lot more dangerous for the wizarding world.  Next chapter, chaos reigns.