No Substitute for Victory

Percy Weasley, Minister of Magic, entered the office of the Deputy Minister, Harry Potter, with a heavy heart. In one hand he held the report from the Orkney battlefields. He had bad news, and in the ongoing war against the forces of Voldemort, bad news meant that people had died.

He glanced at one wall that was dominated by books about war and warfare, the authors arranged alphabetically, from Creighton Abrams to Xenophon. From these tutors, his deputy had gleaned directions, and produced the conflict that was raging even now. With a heavy heart, Percy cleared his throat.

Harry Potter was studying a map on his desk, and glanced at Percy, and then went back to his map. "Backaland?" he asked.

"We lost. The Orkneys are now firmly in Voldemort's hands. I suspect he'll have the Finman tribes there on his side by the end of the day."

Harry said nothing at first, and then grunted, "As I expected."

Percy gaped at his deputy, "You knew? You knew we'd lose and you told me to order the attack anyway?"

"I wanted to attack two days earlier, Percy, but you delayed us, insisting that we had to go through the Wizards Sinclair."

"They never would have forgiven us if we hadn't sought their permission to fight on their lands! Damn it, Harry! There are protocols to observe! Do you know how long it took for the Orcadian Wizards to come in on our side in the first place?"

"I'm sure the Scots and the remaining Orcadians left alive will be delighted to learn that those same protocols cost us two full days, during which time Voldemort was able to consolidate his positions and bring his followers' power up to full strength." Harry looked up at Percy in disgust. "It would have been better to act first and make a mistake than to delay until the opportunity was gone for good." He turned back to the map and continued to trace a path with his finger.

"So why did you say we should attack anyway? We lost over one hundred people!"

Harry walked over and seized the report from Percy's hands. He leafed through, glanced at the estimates and then shoved the papers in front of Percy's face. "But we killed three times that many!" He pointed to various items on the paper. "Yes, our forces had to retreat, but Voldemort lost more people than we did, and convincing the Finmen will be that much harder, now that they know that there are forces mobilized against them!"

"It's still a victory for him," Percy insisted, glowering at his deputy.

Harry returned the look. "Maybe, but it's a Pyrrhic one at best!" He went over to an end table and picked up a sheaf of papers. "Now, if you're going to be a prig about protocol, then I need you to authorize these plans."

Percy looked at the plans, and his eyebrows climbed into his hair. A sense of shock coursed through his body, and he glanced about for a chair, and sank into one, grateful for the support. "Merlin's Beard," he swore, one hand clutching his chest.

Harry chuckled and leaned on his desk. "Glad to see that you understand the potential."

How did we ever come to this? Percy wondered for the ten thousandth time. The entire nation was in arms, battles raged on heath and moor, and in many cities and towns there was actually house-to-house fighting. Dark witches and Ministry wizards traded hexes; offensives and counteroffensives; that was to be expected, and Percy thought that was the way it would always be done. But not under the wartime leadership of Harry Potter! He had militarized the entire wizarding world, and authorized Veritaserum interrogations of captured enemies. And now, this! "I don't believe it," he said weakly.

"Yes you do, Percy. You see the necessity of it! There have been five major engagements with the Death Eaters in the last six months, and we've only lost two of them. You know that my methods are working! They've stopped their random attacks against civilians since we armed the wizard populace, and they're concentrating on trying to acquire territory. I think that Voldemort is trying to capture portions of the entire country so he can force a settlement. He thinks that if he grabs enough of Britain, we'll have no choice but to offer to share power with him. Then, of course, he'll just ease us out."

"How did you reach that conclusion?" Percy asked, momentarily ignoring the shocking proposals in his hands.

"Because nothing else makes sense! Here," he pointed to the map on his desk, and Percy stood up to look at it. "He's taken the Orkneys most recently, that links him up with the Outer Hebrides, then the Lake Country, and the Yorkshire Dales, and here, the Isle of Man. He's trying to slowly surround us. That gives us an opportunity!"

Percy was bewildered. "What opportunity? All I can see is the loss of security, as You-Know-Who grabs more territory."

Harry shook his head. "There is no security in warfare, only opportunity." He was quoting Douglas MacArthur, but he knew Percy wouldn't understand, so instead he pointed back at his pile of proposals. "Now, sign off on these, and we can deal him the most painful defeat thus far, and more than make up for the people we lost today." He handed Percy a freshly inked quill, but Percy didn't take it.

Percy swallowed hard, and then said, "I never thought I'd say this, but right now I don't want to be the Minister of Magic." He stared at the parchment in his hands, staring at it with increasing dislike. "I wish this decision didn't fall to me."

"Then flip the paper over and write out your resignation. I'll take over, and you can retire to the Burrow, and spend the rest of your life hoeing vegetables and chasing gnomes. I'm sure Penelope would love the life of a country farm wife!" he added acidly.

Percy glared at Harry, and then dashed his signatures on the forms, not even bothering to read the latter ones. He thrust the papers back at Harry and stood there, arms akimbo, rage simmering beneath the surface. "Do what you must, Harry, just give me a victory! We have to show we're winning this war!" With that pronouncement, Percy stalked out of the room. He slammed the door behind him for good measure.

"Blimey, that was good," George Weasley, said, coming out from under Harry's invisibility cloak. His brother Fred and sister Ginny were right beside him, and all three were grinning widely.

"Brilliant, Harry!" Fred said, "You were right! Poke Percy hard enough, and he won't even pay attention. If we'd known that, we could have gotten away with a lot more in the old days."

Ginny smiled, but stepped back, knowing her brothers were going to talk business.

Harry chuckled, and handed a portion of the papers to the twins. "Can you two and your father get production on the new weapons started by the end of the week?"

"No problem. Dad's got the design down pat, and the Dwarfs say they can give us all the spare parts we need, now that they understand how the bloody things work." George grinned. "You-Know-Who's going to get a jolly hot reception next time he shows his face."

Harry nodded, smiling. "That's the idea. When do you think you'll have the first one done?"

Fred and George looked at each other. "About two more weeks for the prototype. We've got three shifts going 24/7. We've finally got some good people on Quartermaster and Commissary duties, so that's taken care of the complaints about the food."

Harry nodded and sighed. "Good. I was worried about that." He smiled once at Ginny, and then looked at the twins and then laid his hands on both their shoulders. "I know I've been riding you guys hard, but we need to be fast about this. Force is the only thing Voldemort understands; but if we can hit him hard enough, his own people are going to start questioning his judgments. Once that sort of thing sets in, it's only a matter of time before his army will break down. When a commander loses the confidence of his troops, he rarely gets it back! You two and your dad are the key to it all."

Fred laid one hand on Harry's arm. "Don't worry about us, Harry. We're behind you, 100%."

"A thousand percent," George said.

"Great! I don't care how you do it, just get it done."

"And on that note," Fred said, "We've got to get back to work. Thanks for letting us see Percy so out of sorts! It was fun!"

"And thanks for the loan of your invisibility cloak." They both laughed, and walked out of Harry's office, their step light and enthusiastic.

Ginny came forward and melted into Harry's embrace. "It's been too long, Harry."

"I know," he said, holding her tighter. "I apologize that this meeting has to be official."

She nodded once, her head still tight against his chest. "I thought once you'd done your secret missions this would all be over. Instead, it's escalated into a full-scale war. Dad was saying it was like this back when the Muggle British and Germans were fighting when he was a kid."

Harry chuckled, recalling the Churchill memoirs he'd been reading in bed the previous night. "Yeah, it is sort of like that."

She looked up at him. "So what's this thing you needed my help with, today?"

"Well, it's down in the basement," Harry said, motioning toward the door, where his bodyguards were waiting.

"Lavender, we're going down to the dungeons."

"All right, but on your way, stop in at Laboratory Number One. They say they've made a breakthrough on the project assigned to them."

Harry smiled. When he'd assumed office, Lavender had been the first one to approach him and ask for a job. He remembered her from the D.A., but he'd never dreamed she had such a fine sense of order. Without her he would have drowned in the paperwork necessary to run his office.

**

As Harry and Ginny hurried toward the Ministry's Dungeons, he excused himself for a moment, and stepped into one of the laboratories, where the top minds of the country were laboring on a project that could change the entire direction of the war.

"Minister Potter," said Griselda Harmonia, the project leader, bowing to him, "thank you for stopping in."

"Deputy," Harry corrected her.

"That is a matter of opinion," she said, and then turned to the table, upon which the supine form of a Death-Eater lay. Magical straps held him in place, a potion rendered him insensible, and two witches were examining the Dark Mark on his arm. "You've already done far more than Minister Weasley," she raised a hand, "but don't worry. I keep my opinions to myself. The last thing the Ministry needs a civil war on top of Voldemort's."

"I'm glad we understand each other," Harry said tightly.

"I have good news: we think we may have isolated the proper charm."

"Great!" Harry said. "Can we create a charm or craft a spell to help track it?"

"That is the next step, but we're very close!" She trained her wand on a sheet of magic mirror lining one wall. "Trak Revelio," she said, and the mirror image of the prone man was surrounded by a gray-black glow.

Harry whirled to look at the man, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Only in the mirror was he shown to possess the aura! When he looked back at the mirror, the glow was gone.

"The problem is that the detection only lasts a few moments, but, as I said, we're very close. What we must do is find a way to prolong the effect, and then break it down into smaller lenses. Ideally, our troops will wear glasses which will allow them to distinguish between who is a Death Eater, and who isn't."

"Great!" Harry exclaimed. "It would also be good if we could expand on the effect, and project it onto a map. Build on the spell until it covers all of England, and transmits their location. That way, we can track the movements of the Death Eaters; find out where they're going, where they're grouping, maybe even how they're traveling. It would put us one step closer to figuring out where and when they're likely to attack next!"

Griselda Harmonia and her team were looking at Harry with something akin to awe. "Brilliant, sir! I never thought of that!"

One of the witches came forward, stumbling slightly in her shock. She stared at Harry and then impulsively hugged him. Harry flushed, and then realized she was shaking and sobbing. He squirmed, and tried to disengage her, and finally succeeded in pushing her back. The woman was crying, and she sniffled, and said, "You're a genius, sir! It's true. You are the Chosen One!"

Harry was confused, "Well...yes, but why did you--?"

"Sir, until this moment, I had no hope! I was...I was just going through the motions, Mr. Potter. I never really believed we had a chance. My son was killed at the Quidditch World Cup; hoisted into the air by Levicorpus, and then landed badly. Broke his neck, sir. My husband died during the Ministry attack." She wiped her eyes on a spotted handkerchief and then blew her nose, and then continued. "When you came in with Mr. Weasley, I didn't believe you, at first. Then you intercepted the Brazilian tablets, and...I'm sorry, sir...I thought it was luck.

"But now, hearing your ideas, your plans, I believe!" She snapped Harry Potter a fierce salute, and her eyes were shining. "I believe in you, Mr. Potter! I believe we'll win this war! You'll have my best efforts sir, and more!" The unnamed witch led Griselda Harmonia's team in another salute, and then they went back to their work, with more vigor than before.

Harry Potter swallowed thickly, and then left the room, stunned by what he'd seen and heard.

***

"I don't see why you need me along, Harry?"

"I don't know why, Ginny, but I think Draco is afraid of you."

"Me? Draco Malfoy is afraid of me?" Ginny stopped in her tracks and laughed. "So it's true, then?"

"You knew?" Harry stopped and looked at the girl he thought of as his girlfriend, whom he hadn't seen for many months. He glanced at his bodyguards who immediately took up stations in front and behind him.

She looked at Harry and gave him a guilty smile. "I suspected, but I was never absolutely sure."

"Why?"

Ginny leaned against the cold stone of the twisted staircase they'd been following into the dungeons of the Ministry. "Harry, do you remember that time when Draco and his father confronted us in Flourish and Blotts, just before I started my first year?" Seeing Harry nod, she went on, "Did you notice Draco's arms?"

"No. What about them?"

"He had welts on his arms, like somebody had been hitting him! Probably his father; maybe because you got on the Quidditch team the year before, and he didn't. He was covering up for his own pain by attacking you; and his father was attacking my father, to cover up for his own shame at his son's poor performance in school. Maybe. That's what I think, anyway.

"After that day, I kept watch on Draco. I noticed the same pattern again and again: anytime he got a bad mark, or someone talked back to him, he'd lash out at somebody. I talked to Hermione about it, and she called it some Muggle term--disbursement of rage, or something like that."

"So why is he afraid of you? I don't understand."

"Harry, I know what he is: he's a whipped dog! All that snobbery and acting out is just a blind! He can't stand the fact that his name and his heritage mean nothing to Voldemort because he's been brought up to believe that it means everything! If his master doesn't respect him, and his father doesn't either, then it means that everything he's been brought up believe in is a lie!"

Harry swallowed hard. He'd never thought that far ahead.

"And if his father has been telling him lies his entire life, then maybe everything he's ever done has been wrong. Maybe the Pureblood credo is wrong; maybe Gryffindors are right; maybe Harry Potter is the Chosen One; and maybe that red-haired girl who stares him down everyday in the halls knows more than she's telling!"

Harry looked at Ginny, who was smiling at him winningly.

"Coming to you to defect was probably the bravest thing he's ever done, Harry. It meant defying everything he's ever been told was right."

Harry planted a sudden kiss on Ginny's lips, and then while she blushed, and said, "You're brilliant, you know that? You're a bloody genius!"

"Harry..." her face was flaming. "We're not alone, you know."

"Didn't see a thing, Miss," Donald Denham said with a perfectly straight face.

"Me neither," came Phineas Fletcher's voice from just around the corner of the staircase.

"Thanks, guys," Harry said, and hugged Ginny. "I've missed you."

"Me, too, Harry."

The two were quiet, and then Ginny reluctantly broke first. "We should get going. You said you wanted to get to him before his meal was served."

"Yeah, I read that hungry prisoners are more cooperative." They started down the staircase and got to a secure door, where they were checked through by two sets of guards, one on each side of the door. Finished, they trooped down the dark hallways, and stopped at the last door. Harry's two guards flanked the door, while Harry and Ginny entered and looked at Draco Malfoy.

The cell was actually more like a small dorm room: a bed, a desk, a small bookshelf, and a shower and a toilet behind a partition. Draco was a cooperative prisoner, so he didn't have to wear chains or manacles like some of the more infamous ones. He looked at his visitors in surprise, and stood up, facing up to them like a country squire dealing with poachers.

"What's she doing here?" Draco asked, looking at Ginny with a barely concealed contempt. "I've got nothing to say to her!"

Ginny was right, Harry thought. When he's scared, he uses anger to cover it! Harry assumed a commanding tone, "She's got something to ask you, Malfoy."

"Have you found my mother, yet? When do I get to see her? You promised me you'd put us together!"

Harry squared his shoulders and spoke with the full weight of the Ministry behind his words. "When we capture her, you'll see her, not before. Meanwhile, the rest of the world thinks you're dead. We've kept that part of the bargain."

"Draco," Ginny said, stepping forward slightly, "where does your father keep his magical weaponry? And where are the family notes and instructions from your master?"

"Why do you need to know that?" Draco snarled, his lips curling in disdain. "Filthy little blood-traitor!"

Harry started to step forward, but Ginny angrily slapped Draco across the face with one hand. Draco screamed and dropped to the ground, crying out as though he'd been doused with scalding water. "No! No, please don't hit me. Don't hit me, Mummy! Please, please, I'll do anything. But not that! Please not that!"

Ginny dropped to her knees and yanked Draco's hands away from his face. Hot tears were coursing down his face and he stared at Ginny Weasley as he would at a Medusa. "Where are the Malfoy family weapons? Where are the hidden notes and papers? Where are they kept?"

"Under the dining room table," Draco blubbered, crying harder. "A hidden trapdoor. Everything secret is kept there!"

Ginny let go of Draco and stood up, wiping her hands on her jeans. "Do you need to know anything else?" She resolutely turned her back on the prisoner.

Harry shook his head, staring at the Slytherin Seeker in disbelief. "I never thought I'd say this, but I almost pity him."

"I've pitied him for years. I think that's another reason why he's afraid of me."

Harry's face was a mask of confusion. "But what's all this nonsense about his Mummy?"

Ginny looked at Malfoy with distaste, "I think I can guess...but do you really want to know?"

Harry didn't answer.

Draco Malfoy tucked himself into a fetal ball and turned away from his captors, sobbing like a brokenhearted child.

"Harry, can we go? I feel like I need a hot shower."

As the foursome headed back up the stairs, Harry reflected on Ginny's insights, and tried to marry that with Draco's reaction to Ginny hitting him. The conclusion was a disquieting one, and he tried to expunge it from his mind, but it persisted, nonetheless. Could Malfoy's home life be that warped? And if so, why did he want to be quartered with his mother, if she had such a horrible effect on him? Could his own life be so twisted that he felt incomplete without someone to torture him?

Back in his office, Harry and Ginny sipped Dobby's tea, and finally Harry said, "I'm sorry to put you through that, Ginny. I never dreamed he'd react like that. If I'd known--"

"I know you wouldn't do that to me deliberately, Harry." She was silent for a bit. "Hermione told me that you were under a great deal of stress. Now, I see what kind it is. I wish Percy hadn't put all this on you."

Harry sighed, "Well, I'll tell you this, Ginny: I'd hate to have his job right now. He gets more Howlers than an unpopular teacher at Hogwarts! Sometimes I think he makes ten thousand decisions a day, most of them unpopular. That kind of stuff would drive me mad."

"But Dad says you're doing well here at the Ministry. He says most of the departments like having you as Deputy Minister. Do you think you'll make a career out of this?"

Harry started to laugh, and then stopped to consider. Would he? He didn't like living in Sirius' house; transporting there by Portkey every night wasn't much fun, but there was a certain rhythm in going into an office every morning. There were friendly faces around him, and he knew that what he was doing was necessary. Maybe this was why Mr. Weasley stayed with the Ministry of Magic, despite years of no advancement and a meager salary?

But what about McGonagall's offer of work at Hogwarts, which had made his heart sing! There was no denying he'd love to work there, maybe with the hope of eventually becoming the headmaster!

"I don't know. Maybe. I do think that when this is all over I'll probably live in a flat instead of that house. I mean, I know it's mine now, but, I've always thought it'd be neat to have an apartment of my own, right in the heart of the city..." he trailed off, caught up in the wonder of living in the heart of London, by himself! There would be new faces every day, the smell of Chinese food mixed with donuts and exhaust fumes and the occasional honk of a city bus, with the distant wail of a ship's whistle. It was a pleasing vision, and he left the fantasy only when he heard Ginny set her teacup down. "What about you? What will you do when the war is over?"

She looked at him curiously, and then smiled. "I've always thought it would be fun to travel, to go as far from England as possible--see things I've never seen before."

Harry nodded, "Yes, that could be fun, too." He noticed that Ginny seemed uncomfortable for some reason, and he abruptly changed the subject. "I heard from Madam Pomfrey that you're doing well in her healing courses. Third in the class aren't you?"

Ginny blushed again. "Yes. It's actually a lot more interesting than I'd thought. I wish there'd been classes in magical healing at Hogwarts."

"She was saying to me that you could be a healer in your own right in just a few months. That's good, because I certainly need people like you on the front lines. The mobile hospitals I'm setting up will be curing people fast for quick returns to the battlefield." Harry could see she was starting to look a bit scared, so he changed the subject again. "You might want to consider it as a career, when this is all over."

"Harry, do you really think this will be over? Do you really think that Voldemort will be beaten?" Her eyes looked frightened as she looked at him over her teacup.

"Sure it will!" Harry smiled, and waved a hand at the map of England on the far side of his office. "After the Battle of Hogsmeade, we took nearly thirty prisoners, and Voldemort was stopped cold. From the information we got from them, we were able to intercept two other parties of Death Eaters, and saved hundreds of people."

"But he's still out there," she said in a worried tone.

Harry nodded, but his eyes flashed. "Yes, but now he knows that we intend to fight him, and more importantly, he knows he can be beaten. So he'll move more cautiously, and that in itself is a victory."

Dobby poured Ginny more tea. She drank the steaming liquid, but didn't say anything, so Harry came around the desk and knelt down by her chair. He folded his arms around her.

"I'll tell you this, Ginny. The only way we can stop him is to kill him. I know that for certain. But until we can do that, we have to be ready to fight. Tom Riddle's entire strategy all along has been to commit atrocity after atrocity until he's bullied us into allowing him dominion over us. It's the same strategy he used when he was in that orphanage as a child.

"In a way, he's just like my cousin Dudley is, because the only thing that bullies understand is force. I learned to fight back against Dudley, and eventually he left me alone."

Ginny smiled and kissed Harry on the nose. Harry laughed, and then there was a knock at the door.

"Sorry to interrupt," said Lavender Brown, apologetically, "but Minister Weasley needs to see you in his office, Harry."

***

"I'm not surprised, Harry," said Percy Weasley, after hearing his deputy related what he'd just been through in the laboratories. They were seated on a couple of couches that Percy kept in his office, facing each other. "This is what it means to be in power! Like it or not, you and I are the symbols around which people rally. That's why it's very important for us to keep up an image of being in command. We can't ever admit that we're in a quandary, or say that we don't know the answer, because then everything falls apart. People start making their own decisions without informing us, word gets around, nervous little people start to panic, and the whole chain of command falls down like a house of cards."

Harry shook his head. "I never considered how people felt about it all. I just saw what needed to be done and did it."

Percy smiled, but his eyes were direct. "That's in your nature, Harry. That's what heroes do! That's why we ordinary folk admire you so much for it! You don't think about the consequences, you just act; usually when we can't even conceive of moving. Meanwhile, you're off and running."

Harry remembered something he'd read once in his old Muggle school, before Hogwarts. "Rushing in where angels fear to tread, then?"

"Exactly!" Percy enchanted his teakettle to pour out two libations for them both, and then took his own cup. "Harry, I think it's about time you made your first public speech. Not to the rest of the Wizarding World, but to the Ministry itself. If that one witch's reaction is anything to go by, there are a lot of people who need to hear you talk. They need encouragement!"

Harry's first inclination was to protest, but then he recalled that same witch. He lowered his head, thinking. Hearing his words, and his plans, she'd been reduced to tears! What was it she'd said, "...just going through the motions"? He couldn't have that! He needed people to be doing their very best, at all times, or they'd never get through this alive! He looked up, and saw Percy staring at him intently. "I'll need some help, Percy. I've never spoken to a crowd before, not even in the Triwizard Tournament."

"Of course, Harry. I'd be glad to help you. Hermione Granger would probably be big help, too. I daresay she'll have an idea of a proper outline for you in a few minutes' time."

"Right," said Harry, thinking of how much Hermione seemed to enjoy writing, and homework.

"Now," said Percy, using his 'back-to-business' voice, "I'm glad you're here, because a visitor is coming who's very intent on speaking to you. She should be here at any moment."

Harry set down his teacup when he heard the door open, and stood up, and then nearly fainted when he saw the visitor's face. His knees did fail him, and he collapsed backwards onto the couch.

"Not quite the reaction I expected, Potter."

Harry stared at the formidable figure looming over him. Finally, he gasped, "Professor McGonagall!"

"Hello, Potter," the headmistress of Hogwarts looked as stern as ever.

"I thought you were still in St. Mungo's, recovering from that assassination attempt."

"Discharged, though not without some lingering damage," she hefted the heavy ebony walking stick she was leaning on. "I've come to speak to you about the progress of the war, and other matters as well."

Percy waved her to a seat on his sofa so they could both face Harry, and then rang up for some refreshments. While they waited, he poured her a cup of tea. "I told Professor McGonagall that the Ministry would do everything in its power to aid the Order of the Phoenix," he explained. "We've been on opposite sides for too long! We all want to see this war ended as quickly as possible."

"On that note, Potter, what's become of the matter of the Horcruxes?"

Harry flinched, "How did you find out about that? Professor Dumbledore didn't tell anyone but me!"

"You weren't alone in that office, Potter! Did you ever stop to think about all the occupants of the pictures lining the walls?"

Harry looked crestfallen. "I forgot."

"Well, fortunately, they didn't! With their help, I've reconstructed the chain of events, and now I want to hear from you: why are you here, helping direct the Ministry's war efforts, when you should be trying to locate the remaining Horcruxes?"

Harry sighed. "Because I found them all. They've all been destroyed, except for the last piece he's carrying in his body."

"WHAT?"

Harry nodded. "That's why I'm here. Voldemort must have been doing a random check on them, because he's realized that he's mortal again. Now he's gone to ground. The last few prisoners we've captured have confirmed that he's in hiding, using the Fidelius Charm to conceal his whereabouts."

Percy spoke up, "We believe that he's using Pettigrew as his secret keeper. Since Wormtail never leaves his master's side, now, he's the perfect choice."

McGonagall was shaking her head. "How could you have possibly found the remaining Horcruxes in so short a time? It's barely been a year since Dumbledore's death! As you yourself said, they could have been anywhere in the world! Where were they?"

"Yes, Harry," said Percy, "please tell us. I've never heard the full story, and I think I'm entitled to."

Harry tried not to look smug. "Voldemort has two serious character flaws. First, he's absolutely convinced of his own self-worth: in his eyes, he's a demigod. So, any common hiding place for a fragment of his own soul wouldn't do, it would have to be a place of great significance, and one with meaning to him. You know which remaining Horcruxes he used, correct?"

She nodded. "The cup, the locket, the snake, and something that was Ravenclaw's or Gryffindor's. I fail to see how you solved the riddle of the last one so quickly."

"Well, not quite solved it, Professor. Deduced is probably closer to the truth. You see it wasn't something of Ravenclaw's or Gryffindor's at all!" Harry saw a house elf bring in a tea tray with several cakes, and helped himself to a scone. It was nearly time for lunch, and he'd need his strength. This was a bit of a story, after all. "Secondly, You-Know-Who believes that his own life is very significant. Dumbledore noted that the fragments of Voldemort's soul were located wherever something significant had happened to him.

"Let me recount the Horcruxes in reverse order, all right?" At her nod, and Percy's rapt interest, Harry continued. "I got to thinking during my last few weeks with my Aunt and Uncle; there's little else to do, they're such horrible people. Anyway, Voldemort did visit Hogwarts one last time before the first war. He applied for the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts, as you may remember?"

"Yes, I saw him there. I was ever so grateful that Albus denied him the post."

"But, he was in Hogwarts! He had access to the school that day, even though he couldn't get at the greatest treasures the school had. However, there was one thing there that was particularly important to him, and was already enshrined in a place of honor. Can you think what it was?"

Professor McGonagall frowned, thinking.

Percy Weasley suddenly gasped. "The award given to him for Special Services to the School, in the trophy case! Ron told me how he had to clean and wax it once during a detention!"

As McGonagall shrieked, Harry nodded. "Exactly! When I realized that, I left my Aunt and Uncle's house on my Firebolt and flew back to Hogwarts that very night. It wasn't easy getting into the school, but fortunately it was deserted. That night, I picked up his award, and sure enough! It contained a fragment of his soul."

Professor McGonagall hid her face behind her hands. "What a fool I was! I should have thought of that immediately."

Harry shook his head. "Just like the American Poe's Purloined Letter." He saw Percy and McGonagall didn't understand the analogy, so he explained. "It was right out in the open the whole time! We all knew about it, so we forgot about it. I imagine to Voldemort it was his way of getting around Dumbledore's denial of the teaching post. That way, a part of him would be in the school forever!

"The snake was a bit more tricky, and I honestly can't take the credit for it." Harry looked grim, and then drank off his tea at a gulp. He sighed, and then looked at Percy, who motioned for him to continue.

"After I destroyed the award, I went back to the Hogwarts dungeon. I got into Professor Snape's office, and started going through his personal things, hoping that he might have forgotten some records or something that would give a clue as to his or Voldemort's whereabouts. I was working on trying to force one of his desk drawers when I was hit by a stupefy spell." He looked at the headmistress of Hogwarts, and then plunged on, "It was Severus Snape himself."

Professor McGonagall gasped, and one hand went to her mouth.

"I thought he was going to kill me right there, or at least sneer at me for rifling his office, but he didn't. He didn't even speak to me at first. He went over to his stores cabinet and removed a basin, and then with his wand, drew out a portion of his thoughts. He created a pensieve on the spot, and then forced me into it.

"The memory was of a class in Snape's third year. Slughorn had just graded him with a 'P', and told him that unless he studied more, he would fail the class. Snape was distraught, and in desperation, he approached the best in the class and begged for help. That person was my mother, Lily Potter."

"Merlin's beard!" McGonagall said, one hand flying to her mouth again.

Percy Weasley's eyes were wide, but he said nothing.

"She became Snape's tutor, and under her tutelage, he got better: he'd spend hours in the dungeons, doing the experiments in the textbook, and testing out variations on the instructions, and finding shortcuts. But it was my Mum's help that got him through it all.

"The overriding images I got from the pensieve were how foul Snape's home life was. It was something I could identify with. But as bad as my Muggle Aunt and Uncle were, Snape's Muggle father was worse! He beat Snape often, which was why Professor Snape became so interested in the Dark Arts. When he could, he cursed his father to keep him away. But he felt guilty about it later, and that tortured him inside.

"As Lupin once remarked, my Mum was able to see the good in people, even when they couldn't see it in themselves. She helped Snape to understand that he didn't need to be feared to be liked; unfortunately, he mistook that guidance for love, and developed a powerful crush on my Mum." Harry was silent for a moment, and then rushed on. "It was a love that my Mum didn't return. She didn't dislike him, she just didn't love him."

"That must have ate at him like acid," Percy remarked.

Harry nodded. "Later on, when my Mum married my Dad, Snape took that as a betrayal, and joined the Death Eaters. He felt that if he became powerful, she'd see that he was better than my Dad, and go to him. Of course, that didn't happen.

"Later on, when she and my Dad went into hiding, Snape realized, like Regulus Black, that he couldn't back out. He was trapped with people who'd kill him if they knew that he didn't want to go along, but he couldn't do what they wanted, because he was dying inside. So, he did the only thing he could: he approached Professor Dumbledore and offered to spy. If he was caught, and killed, he'd be out of the Death Eaters. He'd suffered so much death didn't scare him anymore.

"He passed on information to Voldemort's spies, including the prophecy about the coming of the Chosen One. He didn't realize then that it was Lily Potter's baby--me--that Voldemort would kill. When he did, he pleaded with his master for my Mum to be spared. Of course, Voldemort killed her anyway, which confirmed to Snape that he was in the wrong group.

"After the Fall, he and Professor Dumbledore consulted, and decided that it would be best for Snape to continue to work at Hogwarts, replacing Professor Slughorn as Potions teacher. To any surviving Death Eaters, it would appear as though he were remaining at his post, where his master had ordered him."

"Master indeed!" McGonagall barked. "You actually believe in Severus Snape's innocence?"

"No, Professor, he's not innocent, and he knows it. He did kill Dumbledore, but that was part of the plan. By doing so, he places himself above suspicion in Voldemort's camp."

Percy flinched, but didn't request that Harry use the nom de guerre, You-Know-Who. Too many nights of war reports had burned the fear out of him.

McGonagall spoke up, "Please explain to me how Albus could possibly have planned his own death! That seems...impossible to me."

Harry sighed, and explained about the visit of Narcissa Malfoy and Bellatrix Black, and the Unbreakable Oath that Snape had taken. "Snape didn't want to do it, but he did so in the belief that he would at last get the death that he so desperately wanted. He's been very tired for a very long time; tired of the double-agent role, tired of being vindictive to his students, tired of teaching, and mostly tired of being sinister all the time.

"Anyway, he and Professor Dumbledore had a conversation which Hagrid overheard part of. The gist of it was Snape telling Dumbledore about the plot against the school, and how he'd taken the oath, and how 'I don't want to do this anymore. The oath will kill me, but you and Potter will finish him off. And I can rest, at last.'

"'You made a promise, Severus, to both me, and to Narcissa Black. You told me that you would always follow my directions, and you promised Narcissa Black that you would help her son. And more importantly, it will save me from a painful, lingering death!'

"'What do you mean?'

"'The potion you gave me is ineffective against the ring's curse. I'm dying, Severus! We've forestalled the end for a few months, but regardless of your best efforts, I will be dead by the end of the year.'

"'No! Albus, it cannot be so! The Order needs you, and it needs your leadership! I will investigate my house. There must be a record of his curses and countercurses!'

"'The Order of the Phoenix will have Minerva, and more importantly, they will have you on the inside of his inner circle. With my death, you will be above suspicion! But most importantly, the Order will have Harry, who will become a great wizard. I daresay he may one day exceed the both of us!'

"'But you made the promise, and you must abide by it!'"

Harry paused and drank his tea. "So, Snape killed Dumbledore, just as he was told. Later on, when the Death Eaters were retreating, I caught up to him and called him coward, and he nearly killed me in anger, because it took all his courage to do it.

"After that, he pulled me out of the pensieve, and sat me down in one of his office chairs, and for a long time, neither of us spoke. Finally, I turned to him and asked, 'So you really don't hate me?'"

"'Oh no, Potter. Hate is a powerful word. I dislike you because you remind me of your father, who used to torture me. But at the same time you remind me of your mother, who was kind to me when no one else was. That mollifies things a bit.'

"I didn't know what to say to that, but after a while I asked him if he could help me destroy Nagini. He said it would be difficult, but not impossible. About two months later, I intercepted the snake while it was on an errand, and destroyed it. But I couldn't have done it without Snape's help!"

"So," said McGonagall, still a little numb by the amount of information Harry had just dumped on them, "that leaves the locket and the cup."

"And the matter of R.A. B., whoever that was," Percy remarked, distracted by the thought that Albus Dumbledore had literally sacrificed himself.

Harry smiled, slightly, "I asked Professor Snape if he'd ever heard of someone by those initials, and he had an answer: Regulus Andromedus Black. My godfather's brother."

"Regulus?" Professor McGonagall gasped. "I taught that boy; smart as a whip, but terribly impressionable. He didn't last more than a few months as a Death Eater!"

"Smart enough to figure out his master's secrets, though. He lost confidence in the Death Eater cause--I discovered his diary in the Black family home when I was recuperating from my run-in with Professor Snape. The amount of death and carnage Regulus carried out as a Death Eater sickened him, as much as it would to anyone who was asked to do those things. He decided to strike back at his master, and eventually reasoned out where one of the Horcruxes was. He substituted lockets, and brought Voldemort's back to the Black House. Shortly after that, he was killed while searching for another Horcrux.

"Ironically enough, I'd found the locket during the housecleaning of the Black house. It was still in a bag of rubbish in the basement, but it was there, all the same!"

"Just a minute," Percy interjected. "You keep saying you destroyed the Horcruxes, but you haven't said how!"

Harry laughed out loud. "That was the easiest thing of all! Rufus Scrimgeour once offered me the chance to be a poster boy for the Ministry. Even after he was killed after the second attack on the Ministry, the offer was still good! I brought the Horcruxes into the Ministry with me, and then threw them through the Veil!"

"So that's why I kept seeing you here at the Ministry!" Percy shook his head in awe.

"Which leaves the cup," Professor McGonagall said, looking at Harry with a certain pride. He had been one of her students, after all!

"That one was the easiest of all, actually! After seeing how his award had been in a trophy case, it made sense that the cup would be in a similar place. But, if that was true, it had to be in a place where no wizard or witch would recognize it, because they'd realize immediately that it had belonged to Helga Hufflepuff. The most logical would be in a place frequented only by Muggles!"

Professor McGonagall slowly nodded. "But when had You-Know-Who visited a Muggle place?"

"When he'd been a child," Harry supplied. "So, I went back to the orphanage where Voldemort had been born and raised. I posed as a government auditor, and reviewed the records, and finally found the list of activities for the years that Tom Riddle had lived there. One place in particular stood out among all the others: The British Museum of History!"

"Brilliant!" Percy said, smiling.

"I went there, and spent days looking through the place until it suddenly occurred to me that I was doing it the hard way, and went to the curator's office. There, I convinced him that one of the display objects that had been donated to the museum was in fact stolen property! He immediately checked the records, and located the cup in a display case of Regency-era relics. After that, I simply obliviated his memory of me, and took the cup to the Veil and tossed it through.

"So, now all that remains is to force Voldemort into the open, and get rid of him."

"And that is where we are, Professor McGonagall." Percy raised his hands and let them fall, clapping on his legs. "Our enemy is critically wounded, but shows no sign of slowing down."

Minerva McGonagall was silent for a while and then she flashed one of her rare smiles, "Potter, you've done fine work! Albus Dumbledore would be very proud of you. When this is over, I would like to speak to you about taking up a position at Hogwarts School."

Harry felt a flower bloom in his chest, and he couldn't speak. To work at Hogwarts! To be a teacher there, and never to leave it! Harry swallowed hard, and nodded once. "All right," he said, unable to think of a proper answer.

"But first," Percy said, overriding the conversation, "a courier has just come, Harry. From Voldemort himself!"

"WHAT?" Harry and Professor McGonagall exclaimed, their eyes wide with disbelief.

"He wants to meet you! On neutral ground!"

Harry thought of the secret attacks he'd ordered on the Death Eaters, via the forms, which Percy had hurriedly signed off on that very morning. They'd been designed to inflict powerful wounds to the Death Eaters--ones that would force him to either pull back, or reconsider his strategy. If Voldemort was doing the latter, Harry knew what this meeting would be about. "Don't worry, Percy, Professor," Harry said, keeping his voice calm, though it was a bit smug, "I've been expecting this."

Percy Weasley exchanged stunned looks with Professor McGonagall, but Harry simply laughed. "It's all right. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to contact some friends."

***

Amity is an island in the Atlantic Ocean, imbued with a mystical aura of peace. Since time immemorial it has been the neutral ground upon which warring wizarding factions have concluded treaties, or negotiated surrenders. Once upon its shores, neither offensive nor defensive magic will work. The longer one dwells upon Amity, the stronger the magic of peace becomes. Those who dwell for longer than three days find themselves incapable of leaving. Amity is populated only by those trapped by its powers. - History of Magic.

Harry Potter, Deputy Minister of Magic, stepped down from the Apparation stone and breathed in the tranquil air of Amity. The air was filled with the smell of blossoms, and doves fluttered to and fro in the magically calm air; though a barrier that warmed and calmed the atmosphere surrounded the island, it did not remove the salt tang.

"Inviting place," said Viktor, Harry's first bodyguard.

"Indeed," said a pleasant female voice, belonging to the second one, a short blonde girl.

"Thanks for coming with me," Harry said to them both, and they nodded.

"Harry Potter," a black-haired man in a white robe with gold trim appeared in front of him. "Your opposite arrived a few minutes early, and he is waiting for you in the main garden. If you will follow me?" Without waiting for an answer, the man turned and led Harry down a cobblestone path between several stone houses.

The first thing Harry noticed was the complete lack of windows or doors on the buildings. People waved to him, and one woman held out a tray for him and his bodyguards, with several steaming cookies. "Take as many as you like!" she gushed, and Harry grabbed a handful.

People seemed to spend a lot of time in their gardens, which were filled with both flowers and food: potatoes, corn, tomatoes, and many varieties of plants that Harry didn't recognize, all growing right before his eyes. But again, Harry saw few walls or barriers, and remarked on it to his guide.

"It's always something outsiders find surprising," said the man who introduced himself as Roger Corning. "Amidst peace and plenty, there is no fighting, no greed, and we could not live any other way. Theft is unknown here, so we have no need of obstacles."

"All the more reason I'm surprised that you agreed to let us come here."

"They believe they're above warfare, Potter," said a harsh voice, and Lord Voldemort stepped into the street in front of him. "They're wrong, of course, but now is not the time to teach them the error of their ways."

Harry stood stock-still. He felt his bodyguards flinch, but they held their ground.

Voldemort laughed, a harsh sound, and spread his hands wide, a scarlet cape flowing unnaturally around him in a wind that didn't exist. His eyes were as angular and red as Harry remembered, but his voice was even more chilling than before. "Harry Potter, it's been too long since we saw each other! How about a warm embrace?"

"You called the meeting, Tom. State your business."

Voldemort's eyes flashed, "Never call me that! I am Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord! The supreme wizard!"

Harry stepped forward, having planned what to say in advance. Hermione and Professor McGonagall had helped him craft his words, choosing the ones that were the most biting. "When we first spoke, via your diary, you identified yourself as Tom Riddle. It's your true name. Dumbledore called you that, because he knew you never really stopped being Tom Riddle. Still the poor little orphan boy who was so determined to prove he was special that he strangled rabbits, bullied his teachers, and killed his own father to prove it! The only difference is that you have no more family to kill, so you've moved on to other people's."

Voldemort's face was a baleful look of rage, he clenched his fists, but the power of Amity was such that he could not strike his foe down. After a moment, he turned his back. "Our hosts have prepared a worthy repast for us, Potter. I hope you're hungry."

Although the meal was entirely vegetarian, it was prepared by a master chef. Harry found himself enjoying his food, especially as it was served on fine china with French Crystal and antique Italian silverware. The table was of white marble and set amidst a low vale of flowers. Blossoms flowed all around them, while unnatural sunshine drenched them all.

Voldemort ate and drank sparingly, and talked little. Finally, the Dark Lord spoke candidly. "I want you to surrender to me, Potter. You've fought well, and dealt me several embarrassing defeats, but I am prepared to be merciful. You and your closest friends and their families will be allowed to leave Britain alive. You may settle anywhere you like; I give you my word you will not be molested again. Refuse me, and I will reduce all you hold dear to ashes."

Harry smiled thinly, and decided to bait his opponent a bit. "What about the prophecy?"

Voldemort matched his smile with his own, "Certainly we want to kill each other, but we don't have to." Voldemort's gaze was intent. "Do you agree?"

Harry sipped his wine, and then shook his head. "No. The only way this ends is when I shovel the dirt over your face."

"You'll regret it, Potter. Think! Why would I offer you the chance to surrender unless I held all the cards? Grant me my dominion over the Wizarding world, or I will bring all of its wrath to bear."

Harry looked at the serpentine features of his foe and snorted. Voldemort still hadn't played the expected card, so Harry decided to push his foe. He started to rise, "This conversation is finished."

Voldemort spoke again, not looking at him, but studying his wine glass; his tone was quiet, but menacing. "I will widen the war, Potter! Two days ago I received word from old friends of mine--yes, I do have some--that they are prepared to join my cause. I have but to say yes, and the first thousand will Apparate in to lend their aid. Other countries are but waiting for me to call, and they will follow my banner!" Voldemort looked at Harry, his mouth a mocking smile. "Italian Chimeras, Greek Harpies, Japanese Kappas, Norwegian Trolls, Persian Rocs, all waiting for me to call. Now are you prepared to surrender? Or do you want to see your beloved England a gutted ruin as the world rushes to my aid!"

Harry slapped his head. "Where are my manners? I didn't introduce you to my friends!" He stood up and waved to the young man, who wore a stylish goatee. "This is Viktor Krum, from the Durmstrang Institute, in Bulgaria. Perhaps you remember his former schoolmaster? Igor Karkaroff?"

Voldemort sucked in a hissing breath, his slit-like eyes suddenly grown wider.

Krum looked at Voldemort with hot eyes, his nose twitching in fury. "Durmstrang stands with Harry Potter!"

"And this charming young lady is Danielle Delacour, from Beauxbatons."

Though still young, she spoke with a fierce pride. "Beauxbatons remembers the 'ospitality of 'Ogwarts! We honor the memory of Dumblydorr, and the worthy cause of 'Arry Potter! 'E stands for freedom!"

Voldemort growled at Potter. "If you think these two pitiful specimens are going to stand a chance against the allies that I can summon--"

Harry reached into his robes and started bringing out folded sheets of parchment and slapping them on the table, occasionally muttering explanations as he did so. "Letter of support from the Salem Witch Institute...nice folks those Yanks! Here's a reminder from the Central African Wizard Academy that I can use their army of Heliopaths whenever I want! The Belgian Witch Contingent sends me regular good wishes...Andorra's got a very nice cavalry waiting for my okay...the entire wizard population of Finland sent a joint letter saying they're coming whether I like it or not...Tahiti only has five witches, but they've all volunteered...Brazil was so embarrassed about that runic tablet business that they're rooting out all the dark wizards in their country and putting them under lock and key until this is over..." Harry looked into his robes and then sighed. "I must have left the rest of my papers back in my office. Sorry about that! But, I think you get the point, don't you?"

The Dark Lord said nothing, but his breath escaped in a hiss. Voldemort looked at the heap of papers and then at Harry Potter. His eyes slid to Harry's scar, and then looked back at Harry's eyes.

"We can settle this between our forces in Great Britain, Tom, or we can start the First World Wizarding War." Harry nodded at his friends. "You say you have some friends? Well, I have many, and they're ready and willing."

Viktor Krum came forward to stand at Harry's right. "When you killed Karkaroff, you struck the first blow! By rights, we should already be fighting you. Perhaps we will, without Mr. Potter's permission, anyway."

Danielle stepped forward, too. "We too are ready," she said firmly, adding nothing more, but didn't need to.

The silence stretched, broken only by an occasional laugh from the residents of Amity as they reveled in the solemnity of their world.

At last Voldemort stood up, his cape flapping behind him. "The Death Eaters need no help from anyone. But if you bring in your friends," he hissed the word, "I will respond, and an international conflagration of arcane power will consume the world! Be it on your shoulders!" He swept away without another word.

Harry turned to his friends. "Thanks! Now please, join me! The food's great!"

***

PercyWeasley, Minister of Magic, was waiting when Harry, Viktor, and Danielle Apparated back to the Ministry. "What happened? How did it go?"

Harry waved a hand, "I preserved as much peace as we've got, Percy. This will be settled in Great Britain, and not in international alliances."

Percy suddenly pulled Harry into a fierce embrace. "Thank you! I was so worried!" Harry was momentarily appreciative, and then Percy spoiled the moment by adding, "The thought of daily conferences with angry wizards from all over the world scared me half to death! I don't know how we would have survived it!" He released Harry and walked off, waving his hands beside his head, as though trying to chase away the nightmare of an international coalition from entering his skull.

"Perfect Percy," Harry muttered, looking at Viktor and Danielle, and rolling his eyes. "Always one thought ahead of the rest of us."