Destiny Finds a Way

Destiny Finds a Way -A Harry Potter Fan Fiction

Fan Fiction Storyline Copyright © Issa/snow_queen919

Harry Potter et al. © JK Rowling

Chapter I - The Final Farewell

Harry Potter sat on the floor beside his trunk in his house dormitory. The trunk's lid was still open. Only one item, a fluid-like, silver invisibility cloak, yet remained to be placed inside it until it was locked again. Harry held the cloak to his chest, wondering vaguely why he hadn't put it in yet.

I should be happy right now. He thought, trying to make himself glad that his NEWT's (Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests) were finally over. But he just couldn't. He felt as if his stomach had gone missing and he was simply empty without it. He only had a few days before graduation from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and after which he'd become a fully qualified wizard. He'd be scott free! No more homework, no more detention, no more slimy-haired arch enemies, no more sadistic teachers, no more studying, no more magic restrictions (students weren't allowed to do magic outside school) and certainly no more tests.

Harry let out a hollow laugh. These all seemed to be petty woes right now... now that he was facing an uncertain future well beyond everything he had been used to for seventeen years of his life. And at the same time those woes were probably going to be some of the things he would miss along with all the friendships and relationships he had forged over the years. He would be giving up so much for a world that held no guarantees.

Even now he wondered if he had made the right choices. And it weighed heavily on him. It was funny how just when you've freed yourself of a mass of worries and tiresome burdens, new ones come to take their place. Was it really wise, passing up his original plans of becoming an Auror? He had worked so hard for so long, after all. It was no mean feat to qualify as an Auror. You had to be the best of the best. He had even put up with the inherent horridness of Snape, the Potions Master, to make his grades come up to scratch. Nobody throws work like that away just like that.

But something had changed in him. He could not understand why he did not see it before. Perhaps he did not wish to then. Perhaps he was not ready. Or perhaps he was just inept. He could sometimes be faulted for that, he knew. But more like, maybe, he had been striving for some sort of order and structure... for security... for something that made sense. Very little in his life ever did, after all. And becoming an Auror just seemed... natural. His parents had walked that very same path, he seemed to have a penchant for catching the bad guy, and he had excellent marks in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

But now... he knew he could not continue on this way he had paved for himself. This change was too great a power pulling him to tread on another. He couldn't explain it but he knew he could not ignore it. At this thought, the images of everything he had to go through for the past year played out in his mind once again. His eyes began to prickle and his throat started to burn. No, he thought, I've had enough of that. He stood up, ran his fingers through the scarlet hangings of his four poster bed and sighed.

"Harry, man, what in blazes d'you think you're doing?" came a voice from the door. Ron Weasley looked as if he'd won a marathon. He entered the room, his head only a few inches from brushing against the ceiling, being so tall and gangly.

"I---I was just... packing," Harry said hastily, throwing his father's invisibility cloak into the trunk at last, shutting it closed.

"Packing? Isn't it a bit early for that?" Ron furrowed his brow. Harry was about to try and give some plausible explanation but Ron plowed over his attempts, "Well, we're all out by the lake. I just came in to get you," his best friend explained, still grinning from ear to ear. Harry was quite surprised that Ron hadn't gotten lock jaw by now, smiling like that.

"All right... but fix your hair, will you? It's a mess," Harry said, pointing at the mirror beside the door. Indeed, Ron's flaming red hair was everywhere. Harry deduced that Ron had not combed it since he took the tests earlier that day wherein it was a constant sight, seeing him running his hands through it.

"You should talk," Ron raised an eyebrow at his friend as he took a comb out of his bedside cabinet to straighten it out, "We'll wait for you there," he added before he left the dormitory again.

Harry stared at his reflection. No longer was it short and skinny like it was six years ago. Harry Potter had grown up. He was quite tall now and had bulked up a bit over the years, all though he was still quite lean. His face had changed a bit... grew a bit longer, thinner---no longer a child's but a seventeen-year-old's, ready for the world.

But there were things that did not change. The short, jet black hair that always stuck up at odd angles was still as stubborn as always; refusing any negotiation with the comb to flatten out. There were also his round glasses and the bright green eyes that he had inherited from his mother. Then, of course, the scar. That famous lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead.

This scar was what made Harry even more extraordinary---even for a wizard. It tied him to one of the most notorious powers that ever lived... and the reason Harry's life turned out the way it did. But the Final Battle was over now. They had lost many, be assured, but Harry had finally vanquished the Dark Lord for good. So this year wasn't a total waste.

"Well, nothing I can do about this," Harry said to himself, resigning to that fact that it was impossible to fix his hair and went out onto the grounds to join his friends.

Ron had taken off his socks, shoes, robes and pulled up his pants up till his knees, wading in the lake. Harry's other best friend, Hermione Granger, was sprawled on the grass, watching Ron. She too, had changed. She had become prettier, shapelier and a bit taller too. She was still no supermodel but she was pretty enough... she'd pass. Her brown hair was as bushy as ever, but now she had some sense of tying it neatly in a pony tail.

"Oh there you are, Harry!" she smiled at him, patting a spot of ground beside her, beckoning him to come sit. "I was wondering why you weren't out celebrating with Ron."

"I was... busy," Harry half-lied, squatting down next to her, taking in the sweet summer air.

"Elizabeth's been looking for you," said Hermione, referring to Harry's girlfriend who was a batch lower than them, although she also belonged to Gryffindor house.

"Has she?" said Harry, distracted, staring at the seemingly endless Forbidden Forest on the other side. Even though he had no desire of setting foot in there again... he knew that it was a sight he would soon miss.

"You know, you ought to pay her more attention. You're leaving this year, and you've hardly spent any time with her for the past few months with all the studying we've been doing," said Hermione knowingly.

"Yeah... I know that. She understands, though. Besides... I've been experiencing a bad case of leaving blues---" Harry started but was cut off by the sudden pounding of feet behind them. An attractive girl with long, black hair and an olive complexion was running toward them, a broad grin on her face, carrying a guitar with her.

"Hey, Liz!" Harry stood up. She met him with a hug and a soft kiss on the cheek. It seemed so long ago when he last had one of those from her. His longing to never have to study again, strengthened inside him as he led her over to where he and Hermione had been sitting.

"Ah! This is the life!" Ron exclaimed in ecstasy, finally getting out of the lake. He collapsed and laid himself spread-eagled on the grass.

There were few moments of silence wherein all of them just stared at the infinitely murky depths of the lake. Harry inwardly wished the giant squid come out for a bit, he might be bold enough to pat it goodbye.

"I can't believe you people are leaving me," Liz started, unable to suppress the disappointment in her voice.

"Technically, it's not leaving," Harry pointed out.

"It's leaving, whichever way you look at it, Harry!"

"Well, yes but---"

"Aha! There, you see!"

"You didn't let me finish," Harry rolled his eyes at her. He had almost forgotten how stubborn Liz could be. "We'll come visit often. You'll still have Hogsmeade visits, won't you?"

"Still it won't be the same, will it?"

Harry pursed his lips. He hated admitting Liz was right. She'd always find some way to lord it over him later on. But there was no denying it. The truth never made so much impact until it was spoken out loud, preferably by somebody else. And the truth was that things wouldn't be the same. He wouldn't have the luxury of seeing her everyday. What if she found somebody else? What if she suddenly realized she didn't love him anymore? His insides churned and his heart began hammering wildly in his chest.

As if sensing Harry's distress, Hermione immediately changed the subject, "So, Liz... I'm sure you want to know what our final plans after school are?"

"Y-yes... of course... sure..." Liz said distractedly.

"Well... if all goes well and I get my top grade in the NEWTs, I can get into the Ministry of Magic. The place needs some changing," Hermione said uneasily.

"You don't need to fret about it, Hermione. You'll get that top grade, you're Head Girl now, after all," replied Ron lazily. Hermione was always top of every class and every exam. Everyone was sure the NEWT's were no different.

"So, Harry... are you playing for the Montrose Magpies?" Hermione asked eagerly, trying to keep some sort of decent conversation flowing. And like everyone, she was concerned about Harry's prospects in this league team in particular. They were, after all, the most successful team in the British and Irish League. She was also the one who showed him those ads about early drafting in this Quidditch magazine and pushed him into getting permission to try out instead using the day for the usual trip to Hogsmeade.

"Argh... no. Got the letters this morning but we were so busy... but anyway, they said their roster line-up was already full this year. But I did get a positive reply from Puddlemere United. I'm going to be on their reserve team next year. It's a good thing I tried out for them too as backup," Harry said. He was a tad bit disappointed at not being accepted into his first team of choice but then again, it might settle easier with him at Puddlemere. After all, his old team captain, Oliver Wood, had been playing Keeper for this team for two and a half years and was steadily gaining popularity. Maybe he'd be able to help Harry get into the starting line-up with him?

"That's not so bad," Liz exclaimed, snapping out of her thoughts.

"Bloody brilliant! Free tickets!" Ron chimed enthusiastically.

"What about you, Ron?" Hermione turned to Ron, raising a skeptical eyebrow at him as Harry forced his thoughts roughly back into the conversation, the prickling and burning were starting to subside.

"I dunno, really. Haven't thought about it much," Ron said airily. Obviously his spirits were not to be dampened. He was in heavenly bliss. The Gryffindors had won the House Cup, the Quidditch Cup (Harry was Seeker and Team Captain of their house team) and the exams were over. His future wasn't at the very top of his priority list at the moment.

"Ron! You mean you haven't even applied anywhere?" Hermione exclaimed, thoroughly shocked, "This is your future we're talking about! This isn't some piece of homework that you can worm yourself into handing in late!"

"I know, Hermione. Relax! I have all summer... and my marks aren't too shabby, if I do say so myself," said Ron, rolling his eyes at her, waving aside her concerns. Harry knew what was going through his best friend's mind and he smiled in spite of himself. Ron would probably figure out something soon enough. Just not right now.

Hermione puffed up her cheeks angrily but did not reply.

"I'm going to make music when I get out of here," Liz sat up, running her fingers thoughtfully through the strings of her guitar. Slowly, she looked up at them all, her eyes deep and brooding, and said, "You know... this merits a good song. I wrote something last month but you've all been so busy that I couldn't show you. But now I can."

She began to sing, strumming her guitar softly in tune to a slow but peaceful song. Her powerful, clear voice intoxicating Harry, who shivered inexplicably as she hit the high notes. This was part of the reason Harry loved her so much. She always seemed to put him at ease and made his body feel all warm as though he were drinking a hot mug of butterbeer on a cold winter's night whenever she sang. It was almost as if his problems were floating away with her voice. He rested his head on her shoulder, closing his eyes, a soft breeze playing across his face.

* * *

Click, click, click. One after another, trunks were shut and locked inside Harry's dormitory. Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas and Neville Longbottom, Harry's other roommates, were showing a rare display of sentiment by hugging each other goodbye. All though it seemed to Harry that it was more like they were bumping each other goodbye. Boys will be boys.

"Goodbye, Harry," sandy-haired Seamus sighed, holding out his hand to shake Harry's. But as they clutched each other's hands, Seamus yelled, "Ah! Come 'ere!" and pulled Harry into a bone-breaking bear hug. They patted each other on the back and let go. Seamus shot Harry a very large and obvious wink before going off to break Ron's bones too.

"I want tickets to your first big Quidditch game, you understand?" said Dean sharply from behind. Harry whipped around. Dean was smiling broadly almost as if trying to hide something in that grin. He then punched Harry's arm and ruffled Harry's already messy hair, leaving him looking as though he had a porcupine stuck on his head. Dean was a tall black boy who, like Harry, was raised by muggles. He was a great West Ham Soccer fan but he liked Quidditch a lot too. He said "it was most interesting" when Harry played.

"You can count on it," Harry grinned widely, grasping Dean's hand in a firm handshake.

Neville started blubbering like a baby as he shook Harry and Ron's hands. It was pathetic to see a seventeen year old crying like he was two weeks old but they'd miss Neville, his forgetfulness and the way he got into accidents five times a day. And neither one of them had forgotten the way Neville had come through for them this year. So it was in bittersweet acquiescence that they bid him their valedictions.

"Neville, I need you to do me a favor," Harry said quietly as his roommates started for the door, leaving their luggage to be brought down by the house elves of the castle.

"Anything, Harry," said Neville trustingly, ignoring Ron's imploring calls for both of them to hurry up.

"I need you to be happy and do really well for yourself. If you don't, I'll never speak to you again," Harry exclaimed firmly, as a small grin cracked across his face.

Neville looked slightly taken aback at this pronouncement, all though he nodded determinedly in agreement.

"Now come on, let's get out of here," said Harry, positively beaming now, as Neville echoed his feelings of happiness.

They met Hermione, Lavender Brown (Seamus' girlfriend), Parvati Patil (Dean's girlfriend), Ginny Weasley and Elizabeth down in the common room. They had another lengthy goodbye session before they parted ways. By this time, Harry's surreal feeling was getting ridiculously overwhelming. He felt as if his brain was being fogged by it. And as they left the common room, Harry could almost swear that the Fat Lady was getting teary eyed as she watched them leave.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Liz, and Ginny took the "scenic route" to the vast and well lit entrance hall, glancing at every inch of the castle they could for the last time. Strange thoughts of unfulfilled trouble-making whizzed into Harry's consciousness. Maybe he should leave another swamp in the castle like Fred and George did two years ago or at least something similarly wicked. Maybe he should finally give Mrs. Norris that good, hard kick he always wanted to give that mad old cat then jinx her equally foul owner, Filch. He knew some spanking good ones now, after all. It would be a shame not to put all this knowledge to use. Maybe he could turn Snape into a dung beetle and have him scuttle for his life as Harry chased him with a pestle or at least cage him in a jar and place it beside one of the more atrocious objects lying in the Potions Cupboard. How long would it take for the other teachers to find him?

Possibly these entertaining thoughts were starting to show in Harry's face because it was with some franticness that Hermione pulled him down the stone steps to bid Hagrid farewell before getting into the carriages that would take them to Hogsmeade Train Station. It was with final desperation that he took his last gaze at the Great Hall before turning his attention to the Gamekeeper. He wasn't exactly hard to miss.

"Now all of you promise ter write. I won't take not havin' no word from any of yeh," Hagrid said gruffly, valiantly fighting back tears.

"Oh now, Hagrid, you know we'd never do that to you," Hermione assured him.

Hagrid drew himself up to his full height (which was about five times the size of a normal man) and they squished and cramped once again as he seized all of them into a tight bear hug which was no mean feat since they were no longer the size they used to be as children.

"Gawd I'll miss yeh in me classes and visiting me hut. Even if usually means yer all up ter no good."

The others chuckled emptily. Today was all too morose for them to appreciate any comedy.

"I'll miss you," Harry muttered under his breath so only Hagrid could hear. Hagrid's bearded face crinkled into a sad smile. Tears, brimming and shining in his beetle black eyes.

"Well, Hagrid, seeing that you've already had your time to bid these fine young wizards goodbye, I pray you me have a turn?" came a voice from behind them.

"Oh, o' course, Professor McGonagall... o' course," Hagrid replied, stepping back, letting out a loud sniffle.

Professor McGonagall, usually so stern and sharp a woman despite her age, looked quite more like the kind of grandmother that spoils you with sweets behind your parents back as she stood there before them now. There were tears shining in her eyes as she beamed proudly down at all of them.

"I expect only the best from all of you," Professor McGonagall said shakily, dabbing her eyes with a scarlet handkerchief. Then she did something that Harry never thought her capable of doing, she gave each of them a farewell peck on the cheek. Hermione's eyes began to fill with tears as she gave her favorite teacher an extra hug in reply.

"I have something for you all. It's a letter from Professor Dumbledore, rest his soul. I unearthed it among his belongings when I was---oh, when I was cleaning out his office!" cried Professor McGonagall, a fresh wave of tears making its way from her eyes. She handed Harry a short note (though with some effort for she was shaking dreadfully by now) in Dumbledore's loopy handwriting.

Harry took the letter with a selfish sort of uneasiness. His hands were shaking as the parchment touched his fingertips. He wished the others weren't there looking over his shoulder but he dared not tell them this. So with great effort, he steadied his hands and unfolded the note. It read as follows,

Harry, Hermione and Ron,

Greatness is something I have always foreseen in you all three of you. If you are reading this now, that means I have finally gone on my last trip from Hogwarts. Do not worry yourselves too much about me (though an occasional glance into the past would be most appreciated) for the future that is unfolding before you all is something I deem much more pressing.

I shan't make this very long as I think I have imparted enough ramblings on you when I was still able to give them. But I will say one last thing that I pray you take to the greatest of heart and that is; not everything that you have dismissed should be dismissed.

Professor Dumbledore

"What d'you suppose that means?" Ron exclaimed loudly, knitting his brows in confusion.

"I really have no idea but... knowing Dumbledore... it's probably right," Hermione said thoughtfully.

"Blimey, even when he's... well... you know... he's still giving us strange advice," whispered Ron, looking anxiously in Harry's direction, no doubt wishing he wouldn't hear this. Harry had always been the one most affected by the former headmaster's demise as he had witnessed it the year before.

But Harry hardly understood these words. He was standing somewhat thunderstruck. He felt a sad sort of despair that Professor Dumbledore himself was no longer present to deliver this message, perplexing as it may be, to him personally. And yet he felt a flicker of happiness at the knowledge that he had in his hands what was perhaps the last thing Dumbledore had ever written. It was almost as if Harry now possessed something solidly part of him.

Harry did not know how long he stood there, unable to move or speak. The others did not bother to disturb him, figuring out that the last thing he wanted right now was some sort of a diversion from his reverie.

But he was given a light pat on the back by Hermione when the conductor started calling for the students to board. Harry mechanically placed the note carefully into his pocket, they all embraced and said their last goodbyes and left, finally, for their carriages.

Harry looked sadly out of his window as the Hogwarts Express sped further and further away from Hogwarts. Away from his first true home... away from the place he first had friends... away from the place where there was magic in every nook and cranny... and away from the place that housed the greatest memories and adventures of his life.

That place had molded him, broke him and transformed him into who he was miraculously alive to be today. It was not easy seeing it disappear from his vision. Things would never be the same again. Harry clutched his stomach. There was that feeling again---except that this time it was much worse. The whole thing felt like it was being dissolved by acid.

At least you're rooming with Ron now, Harry tried to distract himself. He wouldn't have to lay his eyes upon the vile forms of his Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia and Cousin Dudley for as long as he lived. Harry had been forced to live with these relations ever since his parents' murder but all those years, no matter how safe he may have been, he resented everyday he spent in their care.

The Dursleys were what one calls the medieval sort of Muggles; meaning that they had a very medieval approach to magic. They feared and reviled any form of it and they treated Harry like some freak that needed to be kept a secret lest he show any implication that their family was the least bit abnormal.

But the thought of forever escaping them was not enough this time, to cheer Harry up. He was thinking bitterly that maybe... maybe if his Godfather, Sirius was still alive... if he was here... if he hadn't been murdered by that damned Deatheater... maybe Harry would finally, really be living with him. He found it very kind of Ron to offer him a place to stay before he could get one of his own but... that was different. He would still be haunted by the home he could've had and possibly should've had. Sirius was the closest thing to a father he ever had... if he was living with him... it would be like having a part of his parents back. But Sirius had gone to join them. What was worse was that he couldn't even visit Sirius' grave---because there was no grave to visit. Nobody knew where Sirius' body was. All anyone knew was that it disappeared through that veiled arch in the Department of Mysteries. Nobody knew how to get it back and they would never be allowed back in the Department of Mysteries anyway. Harry fiercely fought back the tears aching to come out of his eyes. The bitterness and the innate misery surrounding these truths coupled Harry's desolation of leaving school.

How many nights had he lost sleep and broken into silent tears? Could he have done anything? Could he still do something? Was his godfather really lost to them? Had he not been hit by a red light and not a green one? Did he not prove that it was indeed possible to sneak into the Department of Mysteries? What about those other people he had lost? Could he not have done anything about their deaths? He couldn't take it. All these fatalities... all this suffering... all revolving around him...

He breathed in deeply, trying to steady himself as well as his racing heartbeat, as he twirled his phoenix feather wand in his shaking hands---which had grown five times over since he first held it in his eager hands---absentmindedly. He sighed and tore his eyes away from the window. He couldn't even see the silhouette of the castle any more. This was all much too depressing for him to take.

"Hey... try and lighten up, will you?" Elizabeth said, seating herself beside him and giving him a soft kiss on the cheek. "I'm not feeling my best either. At least one of us should be a bit more cheerful."

Harry stroked her soft, slender arm and looked into her beautiful dark brown eyes---her innocent brown eyes which had not seen as he'd seen and saved from the horrors of knowing. How lucky she was and how he envied her for her ignorance. Slow was the coming of his speech but plunged in a well of deep emotion when it finally came forth. "How can I?"

She could not reply. He did not think she knew what to say. She just looked at him dispiritedly then rested her head on his shoulder. Harry put in a valiant effort to smile then kissed her lightly on the top of her head, taking in her sweet scent of spring blossoms. Then there was a scraping at their compartment door and a voice said irritably, "Are we interrupting something?"

It was Hermione, Ron and Ginny.

"Oh this is precious!" Ron gushed mockingly, causing Harry to try and throw a playful punch at him which unfortunately missed.

His friends took their seats around them Ginny rolled her eyes at her brother and then began combing her long red hair which now reached her waist. Harry found it easier to distract himself in the company of a lot of his friends. And the noisier they got the better. Harry tried to immerse himself in conversation with them, ignoring the incessant nagging at the back of his head.

They talked about a great many things like who the new Minister of Magic might be, whether Ron's dad was finally going to get a promotion or at least a long overdue pay raise, if the giants were finally going to get their freedom, and other such topics. Though they avoided the ones they probably wanted to talk about most. The wounds were too fresh to open again.

In the middle of the journey, they started a game of Exploding Snap and things seemed to be looking up as they settled into their eighth game. But the cheerful mood was tested when the three most depraved beings decided to barge in on their happiness.

"Oh look! Its scar head and his posse!" said the pale boy in the middle who had sleek white, blond hair. He was more spiteful than ever in light of the defeat of Voldemort and the arrest of the Death Eaters, which just happened to include his father.

"You've got some nerve coming in here, Draco Malfoy, when you're obviously outnumbered. Even if you've got your two cronies with you," Ginny raised her eyebrows at him then nodded her head toward to the two large, muscular boys on either side of Draco, looking like menacing bodyguards. They were so big now that they could hardly fit through the door.

"Shut up, Weasley filth. I might just ask Crabbe and Goyle here to give your pretty face a big crack," Draco retorted, gesturing at the two large boys.

Ron jumped up with lightning-fast speed, followed by Harry and Hermione, in case they needed to hold Ron back. He might just slog Malfoy. Harry privately hoped he would but then again, Malfoy wasn't worth the effort.

"You'd better be careful, Malfoy or I might get sick enough of you that and do more than just kick you. How does ramming my foot up your saggy ass sound?" Ron snapped, his face contorted in rage.

"Well it might be more comfortable up my ass than in that bedraggled excuse for a shoe your wearing now. How long have those been in the family, Weasley? A century?" Malfoy countered. Crabbe and Goyle chuckled automatically.

This was just too much for Ron. Malfoy had always been cracking sick jokes on Ron's family's financial instability since they first met. They never failed to get to Ron. But luckily Harry was able to hold him back however barely, because Ron looked like he wanted to break all hell loose on Malfoy. Though it soon turned out, Ron didn't have to. Hermione pulled out her wand, muttered a few words and successfully turned Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle into revolting, talking pink bunnies. They squeaked when they saw their pink fur, and hopped out of the compartment. Their shrill voices could be heard arguing and cussing all the way down the corridor.

"Stupid gits," Hermione hissed after them, shutting the door.

"You'll think they'll be able to turn back? It'd get you into a lot of trouble if they don't," Ginny asked Hermione.

"Yeah, they'll be sorted out. The spell only lasts two hours... I think," Hermione smiled devilishly.

"Who really cares if they turn back or not?" asked Ron.

"Yeah... I think they look better as pink bunnies anyway," Harry observed. This pronouncement was followed by chuckles of agreement from his friends.

They then spent the rest of the journey was restarting their game of Exploding Snap which unfortunately exploded before they could put the last card on top. When they reached the station, they had yet another extremely long session of bidding and hugging each other goodbye but they eventually managed to part ways after promising to keep in touch.

It had all gone by so quickly... just yesterday, it seemed, Harry was in front of this very barrier in between platform nine and ten for the first time (you had to walk through the apparently solid wall to get onto platform nine and three-quarters where the Hogwarts Express was stationed). So this chapter in his life was finally ending. Harry just hoped he had it in him to start the next one.

And yes, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle eventually turned back into their original nasty states.