Harry Potter and the Year of Living Stupidly

Chapter Sixteen

Just Desserts

Sirius was not a happy man - or, rather, dog. And it took a lot to make Sirius unhappy when he was a dog and could find his own tail a source of endless entertainment. But he strongly felt that having to wear a hot pink rhinestone leash, a memento of Kingsley's dear departed poodle Pookie, was just grounds for misery. And it showed in the way that he bared his teeth at the truant Harry Potter and company.

The people within the store reacted in various ways to the sudden appearance of Harry's dear, not-entirely-departed godfather. Harry, for once, was caught without a scheme to fall back on. His mouth opened and shut, but only a few uncertain 'bahs' emerged. "Serves you right," Hermione told him self-righteously.

Lucius shrugged and stood. "I suppose we might as well -- " he began, but they never got a chance to learn what they might as well have done.

They hadn't reckoned on Kingsley.

There was a tremendous shattering of glass as Kingsley Shacklebolt came bursting dramatically through the window. "Everybody freeze!" he shouted - and instantly began filling the air with a hail of bullets.

Fortunately for the heros of this tale, no one followed Kingsley's advice. Well, perhaps Fleur did, but she was already gracefully strewn across a chair and sheltered from the bullets. Viktor and Hermione dove behind the counter. Harry and Magical Morton hid themselves behind the elephant head chair. Phremphie dexterously wielded his large lollipop in such a way as to shield both himself and Lucius, much to everyone's latent disgust. Ron, who still had the cell phone to his ear, proudly faced the murderous rain, tossing back his head and standing erect. The bullets bounced off his chest, repelled by his manly aura.

That left Fred and George to take the main brunt of the assault. A full five pounds worth of lead was pumped into their bodies in less time than it took Lupin to eat a bar of Double-Dutch Chocolate Supreme.

The gunfire died away. Smoke rose into the air. All was silent a moment.

The twins blinked.

"Wow!" said Fred.

"Cosmic!" agreed George. They examined the holes in their bodies with great interest, but not the slightest degree of alarm. Sirius, back in man form, came tearing into the store, close to panicking.

"Kingsley!" he shouted. "What the hell are you doing?!"

Kingsley looked sulky. "It was only the twins."

"Yes, but what if you'd hit Fleur? Aim first next time!"

"Oh, right." Kingsley nodded in understanding. "I see your point. Sorry."

"I feel like a Swiss cheese," said Fred brightly.

"Or a sponge," added George. They pointed their fingers at one another and made 'pow-pow' noises.

"Oh, well," sighed Sirius. "Looks like they're too stupid to die. Now. . . " He located Harry, cautiously creeping out from behind the elephant head chair. "Young man, we have to get you to Hogwarts at once."

But by then Harry had figured out a strategy. Capslocks. "I DON'T WANT TO GO TO THE STUPID FUNERAL!" he screamed. "I WANT TO STAY HERE AND LEARN HOW TO BECOME A GOD! BAH!!!"

He'd really managed to hit a truly earsplitting note. More glass fell out of the window Kingsley had jumped through. Everyone had to take a moment to unpop their ears, which gave Harry time to work up a case of the sniffles.

"Harry," said Sirius sternly, "no nonsense. You promised Headmaster Lupin that you'd shake hands with all the important dignitaries."

"Sod them! Screw them!" screamed the Boy-Who-Lived. "I was almost there when you barged in! I'm not going back to Hogwarts until I get an answer. Five more minutes! Five more!" He took a deep breath, held it, and seemed prepared to hold it until his face turned blue, or perhaps some even less appealing color.

"Harry!" snapped Sirius, giving him a shake. Harry glared, but not so much as a squeak of air escaped.

"Harry," said Magical Morton gently, and his ability to remain calm and friendly with half his shop destroyed startled everyone. Harry let out his breath and looked at him wonderingly.

"Whot?"

"Harry, I'm sorry. I can't help you become a god. This wand -- " he laid it gently on the counter, " - this wand cast the spell itself."

"I never heard of that happening before," said Sirius, picking up the wand with a frown and turning it over between his fingers. The pink leash still dangled from his neck, but he seemed to have forgotten about it.

"It's quite rare," explained Morton, "because it only happens when a wizard's memory is severely impaired. Then the wand acts to protect its master. And a wand acting on its own can cast spells that are beyond any wizard."

"You mean," said Harry slowly, "you mean, I could only become a god if I lost my memory?"

"Well, it's possible that if you challenged Lockhart to a duel under similar circumstances you might be able to manage it," replied Morton. "But I doubt you'd get to choose what kind of god you became. Look at Lockhart and Pettigrew. They -- "

" - became the gods of soapy water and rubber ducks," interrupted Lucius. "Because that's what was around them."

"Exactly."

Harry slumped. Then he brightened. "So maybe if I dueled Lockhart on the Quidditch pitch -- "

"If anyone's the god of Quidditch, Viktor is," sniffed Hermione. Viktor preened his whiskers.

"You might be able to become the God of Quidditch under those circumstances," agreed Morton, ignoring Hermione. "But you might just as easily become the god of Astroturf, or the god of a particular type of beetle that happened to be crawling past. Do you really want to take that risk?"

"Well. . . well. . . I want. . . " Harry started to sniffle as tears formed in his eyes. "I mean. . . IT JUST ISN'T. . . " He broke off. He just didn't have the energy to sustain capslocks.

"It just isn't fair?" asked Morton gently. Harry nodded. Morton took both of Harry's hands in his. "Now what are you talking about here, young man?" he asked in a soft yet cajoling voice. "Why do you want to be some boring old god whom everyone will forget about whenever they're not doing the thing you're a god of?"

"It just. . . it just would be neat, that's all," gulped Harry.

"Harry," said Magical Morton more insistently. "Harry Potter. Don't you understand? You're the Boy Who Lived. You are the special chosen one. It's already all about you. Why would you ever want to be anyone or anything else?" Morton's eyes practically beamed with love as he gazed upon this precious boy. "Harry, the entire wizarding world is depending on you. As far as we're concerned, you're already a god - better than a god."

Harry's tears had dried. A new light shone in his face. "Do you reeeeally mean that?" he squeaked.

"Of course I do," assured Morton fondly. "Of course. He gave Harry's shoulder an encouraging squeeze. "Now go with your godfather, young man. You're needed."

"Of course I am," replied Harry proudly. "I'm Harry Potter."

"And I'm going to be sick," muttered Sirius.

* * * * *

"Seventy-two bottles of butterbeer on the wall, seventy-two bottles of butterbeer," sang Bellatrix. "If one of those bottles should happen to fall -- "

"Perhaps she could kill me now and get it over with?" mused Lupin, holding his head. Bellatrix had a voice that made chalk on a blackboard sound sweet and she seemed determined to go all the way down to one bottle of butterbeer on the wall.

"Don't you bet on it," replied Tonks. "She's enjoying the preliminaries, you know."

"She's giving me a headache. I don't want to go to Heaven with a headache."

Snape scoffed. "What makes you think you're going to Heaven, werewolf?" he demanded. Personally, he was rather pleased by the turn of events.

"Well, if I'm going to the other place, I really don't want to have a headache! They probably give you medication to make it worse. Besides, I doubt if there's any chocolate there," he added as an afterthought.

"If Sirius can get to Heaven I'm sure you can too," Tonks said, by way of consolation.

"Did Sirius go to Heaven?"

"Well. . . maybe not the way he tells it. No cocktail bar."

"Ugh. That doesn't sound promising."

"I wouldn't fret. You'll get to find out in. . . " Snape glanced judiciously at the refrigerator, ". . .about three minutes and a half, I'll wager."

"Sixty-seven bottles of butterbeer on the wall. . . "

* * * * *

They finally all gathered themselves up to leave. Ron gently shook Fleur awake, and she blinked to see his tall, virile, handsome figure bending over her. Unfortunately, he set his cell phone down then, being unable to pay for it, and immediately withered into his usual pink wormy self. So Fleur bought the cell phone for him and glued it to the side of his head with an adhesion charm.

Viktor shrank his musketeer hat and stuck it jauntily on his head. "Puss-in-Boots lives," muttered Lucius, taking hold of Phremphie's hand so he wouldn't get lost.

"All ready now?" inquired Morton. He was answered by a series of nods and grunts.

"Thank you for everything," cooed Fleur, blowing him a kiss. Ron, who mysteriously acquired a leather jacket, waved a studly wave.

"No trouble at all," Morton replied, ushering them towards his fireplace. "Go ahead; help yourself to floo powder. Quickly now - there's no time to waste."

One by one they vanished in a burst of green flame. "Sorry 'bout the mess," apologized Kingsley before he went. Sirius had confiscated his mirrored shades and he was feeling pangs of remorse, looking back on his behavior of the past hour.

Hermione was the very last to leave. She paused before she stepped into the fireplace. "I'll send you money to cover the damages," she said.

"Eh?" asked Morton, surprised. "But you didn't do anything to wreck my shop."

"No." Her whiskers curled in a sly cat grin. "But I stole the key to Harry's Gringott's vault and had a copy made. He's got so much gold in there he'll never suspect a thing."

"Young lady." Magical Morton shook her paw. "You truly are the cleverest witch of your generation."

"Aren't I just?" she agreed. Then she stepped into the fireplace and was gone.

Morton stood a minute, contemplating the empty store. Then, remembering he'd held Harry's hands, he went off for a thorough wash with plenty of soap.

You couldn't be too careful with these nasty little boys and all the unsavory places they might have been sticking their fingers.

* * * * *

Voldemort was a huge, overstuffed leech, barely able to move. The last few bites of the last sausage trembled between his fingers as he maneuvered it slowly towards his mouth.

"Only seconds left now," sneered Bellatrix. "Any last requests, werewolf?"

Lupin managed to lift his aching head. Bellatrix had finally stopped at twenty-one bottles of butterbeer, but that had been quite enough to stamp the headache thoroughly into his brain. "I don't see why you're making such a big deal out of this," he answered crossly. "All we've lost are a few bits of pig meat."

"By the time Harry gets here the refrigerator will be empty," replied Bellatrix. "Nothing for him to fight Voldemort over - unless your corpse is conveniently laying nearby, that is."

"And do you really think the Dark Lord is in any shape for a showdown?" demanded Tonks, her gaze flicking to the figure perched on the coffin. Voldemort's belly was so huge he looked like he was pregnant with a baby Hagrid. Which was exactly the description Rita was putting in the notes for her article - don't worry; she got punished for it later.

"Who cares?" replied Bellatrix, shrugging in reply to Tonks's question. "Maybe he'll sit on Potter. That'd do him."

Narcissa put a hand on her sister's shoulder. "Bella, dear, do you really think cold-blooded murder is advisable at this time? Don't you think we could settle the issue less violently?"

Bellatrix smirked. That seemed to be her reply.

There was only an inch of sausage left. Voldemort was shaking, but he was determined. With a mighty effort, he raised the bit of meat and crammed it between his jaws. Squeezing his eyes shut, he chewed furiously, gulped, swallowed, and smiled a smile of relief. He slumped to one side, too full and nearly comatose to contemplate moving farther.

He rolled just slightly off Dumbledore's portrait. "Get this whale in a circus tent off me!" cried the old man in desperation. "Please! Before he farts!"

"All in good time," purred Bellatrix, raising her wand slowly. The tip pointed straight at Lupin. He shrugged and stood wearily, hand ready on his wand. "First things first. And the first thing we're going to do is Avada Ke -- "

The sound of many running feet echoed in the hall, then the door burst open. Sirius and Kingsley stood panting in the doorway.

And Harry Potter was in front of them.

"Now that is what I call the nick of time," sighed Tonks. There was the sound of more footsteps and the twins appeared, covered in blood and seeming rather pleased about it. (Molly let out a shriek and began cooing over them, but they'd already plugged their wounds with Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans and were well on the road to recovery.) Ron strolled up, arm-in-arm with Fleur, chatting casually about his new hot-red Ferrari. Two cats squeezed into the room as well, one wearing a plumed hat upon its head. Lucius Malfoy chose to skulk at the back with Phremphie. He'd spotted Narcissa and suspected she'd object to Munchkins.

Bellatrix's face darkened, but she slowly lowered her wand. Lupin watched her carefully as her old twisted smile broke out over her lips. "All right," she said. "I'm game. Let's see how this plays out." And she folded her arms and took a few steps back.

The room was quiet. Even Aberforth and McGonagall ceased their struggle and got silently to their feet. Aberforth was missing half his hair and his left ear bore distinct bite marks. McGonagall was unscathed. Molly and Arthur stood to one side, holding hands - although Arthur continued to shoot lustful glances at the percolator. Amelia screwed her monocle tightly into her eye, not wanting to miss a single detail. Rita moaned with delight, cracked her knuckles, and got ready for the scoop of her life.

Harry advanced slowly, his well-trained nostrils flaring. He'd only made it a couple feet into the room when his eyes widened. Why, he identified all sorts of his favorite delicacies in the air! Pickled trotters, honey-cured ham, pork and sauerkraut. . . Harry began to salivate. After all the excitement, his thirteen-and-a-half bacon sandwiches were finally beginning to wear off. Beside, with such a banquet as this in the offering, hunger was irrelevant. His stomach rumbled. "Something smells good!" he drooled.

Tonks caught hold of Lupin's arm. "Remus!" she breathed. "Maybe -- "

Lupin shook his head. "The refrigerator's completely empty."

Harry had only taken a couple steps more before he realized something was amiss. The tantalizing aromas he'd whiffed were already fading. They seemed more memory than substance. Suddenly suspicious, the Boy-Who-Lived hastened towards the casket and the refrigerator. He pushed aside the bloated Dark Lord, grasped the handle, and expectantly swung open the door. Shelf upon shelf of bareness met his hungry gaze. Harry's face fell.

"Why, you creep!" he shrieked, turning upon Voldemort. "You ate it all, didn't you?"

Voldemort lifted a hand, as if in an attempt to speak. But he let it drop almost as quickly, and lay back and groaned. Harry kicked him in the side.

"You lousy creep!" he squealed.

His blows were no more than a minor irritant on the stuffed Dark Lord. Laying his hands across his massive stomach, Voldemort drifted into a light slumber.

It infuriated Harry all the more. "You bastard!" he yelled, tears coming into his eyes. "Stinky glutton! I guess you wouldn't care if I withered away into a sad little pile of skin and bones, would you?"

Everyone was too wrapped up in the unfolding drama to remind Harry that Voldemort was his mortal enemy and yes, he'd be delighted to see Harry a little pile of bones.

"Well I'm not going to take it!" continued the Boy-Who-Lived. He noticed, among the debris scattered around the coffin, some of those little ornamental gold caps that are put onto the points of a crown roast. A crown roast of pork was the Rolls Royce of meat to Harry. He liked to wear them on his head a bit before eating them. The thought that Voldemort might have done exactly the same thing was more than his little heart could bear.

"Right!" declared Harry. "That's it! I'm gonna do you for this, mate!" And he whipped out his wand.

Everyone in the room stiffened in anticipation. This was it - the moment for which the wizarding world had been holding its collective breath for fifteen years. The room became so quiet one could have heard a pin drop. Unfortunately no one was dropping pins, so they had to listen to Voldemort pass gas instead.

Harry limbered up a bit and took an impressive stance. "Wingardium Leviosa!" he cried, just for a warm-up. Of course Voldemort was too heavy to float. His sweater fluttered a bit.

"Vindictia Inflamaria!" Harry had forgotten all his fire-related spells and was hoping to fudge it. A few Chocolate Frogs tumbled out of the tip of his wand and began hopping around the room, to be chased by the giggling twins. Ron shook his head indulgently at his brothers' childishness.

Harry pondered. "Accio, err. . . Thingy!" he blurted, unable to think of anything that would help him in this situation. Dolores Umbridge's thick green wand came flying in from somewhere. People looked at it askance and then decided to ignore its existence.

"Expecto Patronum," Harry tried next. A silvery stag emerged from his wand.

"Oooh," said a few people in the crowd obligingly.

Prongs shook his magnificent head, gave Harry a scandalized look, and trip-trotted out of the hall, pausing only to favor Lupin with a significant glower.

"What was that about, Remus?" whispered Sirius. Lupin shrugged.

"Try a few Unforgivables, lad," drawled Lucius from the back. "And don't worry; we'll forgive you."

"You're not supposed to help him!" hissed Bellatrix, striding over to Lucius and backhanding him. Bellatrix's backhands were known to bring down small buildings. Fortunately for Lucius, she caught him on the side of his head and his thick fall of butt-length blonde hair took the brunt of the blow. He fell to the ground, stunned, and Phremphie fanned him with his lollipop. Narcissa took note of the Munchkin, her lips thinning.

Encouraged nonetheless, Harry faced Voldemort again. "Imperio!" he shouted, perhaps hoping to gain control of Voldemort and force him to bring up his pig meat. Voldemort picked his teeth. Harry ground his.

"-Crucio!" Red light enveloped Voldemort. He got a case of the hiccups that lasted for about twenty seconds before dying away. Harry stamped a foot.

"Avada Kedavra," he snapped, coldly and surely. Green light flared, filling the hall with an evil emerald glow.

The light faded. Everyone looked to the Dark Lord, who appeared to be in a bit of trouble. Sweat stood out in beads on his brow and his eyes bulged. He let out a groan.

Everyone tensed further. Harry gripped his wand, fully prepared to cut loose with a triumphant 'bah!'

Instead, the Dark Lord cut loose with a small triumph of his own. Brraazttttzz! "Ah, I needed that!" sighed Voldemort in grateful relief as the stench of a mighty pig fart wafted amongst the aisles. There was a general scrambling to open all the windows.

"Oh, pewie, that stank!" wailed Dumbledore's picture. "I told you to move me!"

Harry threw down his wand. "That's it! I quit!" he screamed.

Bellatrix began to laugh. Lucius, recovering from her strike, raised his head and glared at her resentfully.

"You can't give up, Harry!" protested Tonks. "You're all we have. You're the hope of the wizarding world. You can't let us down!"

"I can and I will," contradicted the Boy-Who-Lived snottily. "I'm tired of it all and no one ever really appreciated me. I'm going to sulk for fifty years or so and Voldemort can rule you all and I hope you hate it. Then you'll realize what a prize you lost in Harry Potter."

Harry sniveled and turned to go, but was stopped by a light crinkling sound in his pocket. His brow furrowed a moment before - oh, yes! He remembered. That was the last half of his fourteenth bacon sandwich. Perhaps he should eat it now? But no - Harry saw a chance to put the seal on his martyrdom.

"Here!" he snapped, turning around and thrusting out the sandwich. "You may as well have this too since you've eaten the rest!"

It took a moment for Voldemort's watery red eyes to focus on the treat that Harry was holding out, and a moment longer for him to recognize it. When he did, he groaned. "Oooohhhhgg, I don't know if I can," he moaned, reaching out nonetheless.

"Eat it," snapped Harry, "eat it and let me starve to death. Bah!"

Voldemort really needed no encouragement. It seemed a point of honor - or something - with him to consume every bit of pig flesh in sight. His thick, sausage-like fingers closed around the half sandwich and brought it to his mouth. Harry stood watching, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Voldemort took a bite. Voldemort chewed. He swallowed and groaned. Panting slightly, he took the second bite. He took such big bites that there was only one left.

"Well, go on," demanded Harry as Voldemort paused. "Finish it up."

Weakly, shaking, Voldemort crammed the last bit between his jaws. With a mighty effort, he chewed it to a pulp. Sensing victory, he swallowed. Everyone could clearly see the little lump of mashed sandwich as it traveled down his throat and into his belly.

Voldemort smiled.

Then his stomach exploded.

Harry was nearest and took the full force of the blast. He was blown off his feet and into the first row of chairs. Rita Skeeter was the next closest. A torrent of semi-liquid pig meat drenched both her and her notes. Her acid green quill gave a sputter and died, while Volemort's digestive juices began to dissolve the lacquer on her hair. Everyone else got more or less spattered as they leapt backwards, exclaiming in disgust. Even Sirius felt slightly dirtied, although the gunk went straight through him. Glass blew out of the windows and once again Hogwarts trembled on its foundations.

Greenish-gray smoke rose from the coffin. It carried the scent of vomit and badly burned pork chops. Voldemort's body lolled over the side, its eyes wide open and vacant.

The Dark Lord was dead.

"I don't believe it," said Narcissa softly. Then, louder: "I don't believe it!" She sounded more furious than astounded. "That was the most stupid thing I've ever seen!"

"He can't really be. . . he isn't actually. . . dead, is he?" asked Bellatrix. For once in her evil life, she sounded uncertain.

Hermione looked at the place where Voldemort's stomach had been and humphed. "I think, under the circumstances, he'd prefer to be dead."

"No!" shrieked Bellatrix wildly. "It just can't be true."

"I'm afraid it can," said Narcissa, disgustedly.

"No!"

And then, as if to lend truth to Bellatrix's denial, there was movement from the coffin. The whole room tensed again, watching to see if the Dark Lord would miraculously heal and revive. The body twitched.

Bellatrix clasped her hands.

Voldemort's body shifted and slid off the coffin, landing on the floor with a damp thump.

Dumbledore sat up. "I'm feeling much better!" he announced cheerfully.

* * * * *

"Harry! Harry!"

Harry Potter swam uncertainly towards consciousness. It really seemed to be more of a bother than it was worth. But someone was slapping his face gingerly.

"Are you all right, Harry dear? Wake up!"

He recognized the voice belatedly. Molly Weasley. Molly Weasley, who cooked a mean pan of bacon. Perhaps she had some on her now. Harry's eyes fluttered hopefully open.

"Mrs. Weasley?" he murmured weakly.

She exhaled deeply with relief. "He's alive!" she called happily. Harry wasn't sure, his ears were still buzzing, but he could have sworn he heard one or two voices mutter 'Damn!'

Harry pushed himself shakily to a sitting position. His back hurt and his cheek throbbed and he was covered with some sticky, smelly substance that was making his skin burn, but otherwise, he felt pretty good. "What happened?" he muttered.

Dumbledore shot out of the coffin and dashed over to Harry at a creditable speed, knocking over several bystanders along the way. Clearing up the backstory was, after all, his particular specialty. "You did it, my dear lad," the old ninny beamed. "You fulfilled your destiny and defeated the Dark Lord!"

"I did?" Details were rather fuzzy.

Dumbledore looked around for his desk, noticed he wasn't in his office, and decided to improvise. He pulled over the table with the coffee percolator and sat down behind it. The percolator, which he'd neglected to unplug, hit the floor and began thrashing and gurgling. Arthur Weasley scooped it up and murmured soothing words.

Oblivious to the mess he'd created, Dumbledore gave Harry a serious look over the tops of his half-moon glasses. "That last bit of bread and bacon was too much for Voldemort's stomach," he explained. "It caused an internal revolt and his small intestine throttled his large one and in turn his liver choked his small intestine, which caused his spleen to tie itself into a Granny knot and his gall bladder started tap-dancing on his kidneys. Soon the pressure became too much for his innards to bear."

"So. . . he blew up?" asked Harry after a moment of confusion.

"To put it simply, yes."

Harry pondered. "But. . . but what does it have to do with the prophecy about neither of us being able to live while the other survives and all that? You know, the one I nicked from the Department of Mysteries?"

"Well, absolutely shite-all," Dumbledore confessed. Then he smiled cheerfully. "But it doesn't really matter now, does it? The ends justify the means and all!"

"You know, I'm actually with my aunt on this one," growled Tonks, sitting off to the side and observing the scene with disgust. "This is the stupidest way things could've turned out!"

"Most stupid," corrected Lupin.

"I prefer 'stupidest'." Then she took a better look at him. "What's wrong, Remus? Voldemort's dead."

"And Dumbledore's alive," the werewolf replied morosely.

"Yeah, isn't that strange?" Sirius sat himself down beside them. "That huge blast must've somehow knocked the portrait's spirit into Dumbledore's body."

"I don't really care how it happened, actually," sighed Lupin, picking at a patch on his robes. "It means I'm no longer headmaster, am I? I'd rather gotten used to the position. And the increase in my wages."

"Oh, dear," said Tonks after a pause.

Sirius thought a moment. "Maybe we can convince Dumbledore he's still dead."

"You think that's possible?" asked Tonks.

"Well, it is Dumbledore we're talking about here."

Lupin shook his head. "Snape will never let us get away with it. He hates Dumbledore, yes, but he hates me more."

The trio looked to where Snape was standing, patting his own head in the hopes that Voldemort's stomach juice had re-slimed his hair. Alas for him, Pettigrew's cleansing job was still intact.

"You have a point," acknowledged Sirius, sighing. "Damn. You should have let him resign when he wanted to."

"Padfoot. There's no way I could have predicted this turn of events."

"Well. . . probably not. Only a lunatic could come up with a plot this ridiculous."

"I feel so miserable," groaned Lupin.

"Well, prepare yourself, Monsieur. You're about to feel worse!"

It was Fleur Delacour. The trio looked up. She wore a nasty smile and was holding up some sort of white stick covered with colored lights.

* * * * *

"Hello, Fleur," greeted Lupin politely. "What can I do for you?"

Her lips twitched like it was taking all her strength to hold back a snarl. "'Ow dare you speak to me so casually?" she demanded.

Lupin thought about it. "Why on earth shouldn't I?" he asked at last.

She leaned in close and he took the opportunity to admire her cleavage. "You stole my boyfriend!" she hissed.

Behind Lupin's back, Sirius and Tonks rolled their eyes. Lupin raised an eyebrow. "I beg to differ," he said, still as politely as one could please.

Fleur started. "You what?"

"I said I beg to differ. I happen to know that you did not start dating Bill Weasley until about two years ago. I've been seeing him off and on for four. Therefore, if anyone's stolen Bill, you took him from me."

Fleur was flabbergasted.

"But I'm willing to share him," Lupin finished courteously. He almost added 'and you as well,' but sensed it was not the right time for that.

Somewhere in the innermost part of her being, Fleur had to admit Lupin had a point. But she quashed it ruthlessly. Logic was not allowed to play havoc with her ego. Besides, Hermione was snickering. So she drew herself up to her full height and puffed out her chest - much to the appreciation of Lupin and Sirius.

"It does not matter!" she declared. "You should 'ave given 'im up when 'e started dating me!"

"It's not like our relationship is that serious -- " began Lupin.

"Sirius," Sirius sniggered.

"Just the occasional casual sex," Lupin finished.

Fleur ignored them both - especially Lupin, for fear he might go into the details if she listened. "I don't care! I am not accustomed to playing second fiddle to anyone! And for your punishment. . . " She smiled. "Such punishment as you 'ave not dreamed possible I will visit upon you!"

Hermione sniffed audibly. "Horrid sentence structure for the sake of cheap dramatics. Honestly, Fleur, just get on with it."

"Go lick yourself," retorted Fleur. She focused on Lupin again and brandished her white stick. "Do you know what this is?" She asked.

He eyed it. "Haven't the faintest idea."

"It's a Relativity Rod."

"Has power over time and space, does it?"

"No. It tells you who's related to whom. "Watch!" She touched the wand to Fred, pressed a button on the top, then touched it to George. A blue light lit up. "Blue," she said. "That means they're brothers."

"We already knew that," said Sirius, yawning. Lupin spread his hands, mystified.

"And this -- " Fleur tapped Lupin with the wand, pressed the button, then swung round and struck the startled Harry. A green light glowed. "This means. . . " murmured Fleur softly, savoring the moment.

"What does it mean?" asked Tonks, tired of the theatrics and the way Sirius and Lupin were ogling Fleur's physique.

Fleur smiled cruelly. "It means my relationship is not the only one that was interfered with. Monsieur Lupin, may I introduce you to your son -- Harry Potter! Or, more rightfully, Harry Lupin!"

There was a deep and horror-stricken silence.

* * * * *

Sirius's face changed in color from chalk white to brick red. "Remus. . . !" he snarled.

Lupin, himself pale, spread his hands. "It isn't possible!"

"A green light indicates a parent/child relationship," insisted Fleur, holding up the wand's instructions for everyone to see.

"Well, congratulations, Remus!" said Arthur, who was burping the percolator. "Children are a blessing."

"It isn't possible," repeated Lupin, who was not prepared to look upon being related to Harry as a benison. "Think how much Harry resembles James!"

Sirius snarled, just as if he were in dog-form. (The impression wasn't helped by the fact that he still had the pink leash around his neck.) "You forget, Moony, that I've met your parents," he replied coldly. "You look almost exactly like your father. Your mother, on the other hand, had unruly black hair. We used to joke that she looked like James's mother and James's mother looked like she should be your mother." Sirius thought about it and threw up his hands. "And maybe they were! I don't know who to trust anymore!"

"But Sirius! Surely you don't think -- "

Sirius looked him in the eyes. "Remus. Can you honestly swear to me that you never once slept with Lily?"

"Yes, I can swear that," answered Lupin. Sirius's eyes widened in surprise, but Tonks caught the loophole.

"How about more than once?" she asked wearily.

"Err. . . "

Sirius's face darkened again. "How many times, Moony?"

"Err. . . "

"Just estimate."

"Well. . . " Lupin looked desperately around for an escape route, but he was flanked on every side. "Well. . . just three or four. . . "

Sirius began to relax.

". . . dozen times."

Sirius roared and attempted to throttle Lupin.

Snape began to laugh.

It sounded dreadfully rusty at first - the Potion Master hadn't laughed, outside of a sardonic chuckle or two, in a very long time. And sardonic chuckles, although well and good in their way, did little to keep one's larynx in working order for the kind of deep, hearty belly laugh Snape was indulging in now.

Most people stepped back, fearing he was having some kind of fit. He himself had an apprehensive expression on his face as he laughed, as if the action hurt and he wasn't quite sure it wouldn't kill him.

"Oh, please tell me Snivellus is dying!" exclaimed Sirius, forgetting temporarily about Lupin. Professor Sprout spared him a look of purest hatred before falling on her knees to pray for her love-god's life.

"Lupin is Harry Potter's true father!" gasped Snape. Tears were beginning to squeeze from the corners of his eyes. "Oh, my! It's perfect! It's so just! It's enough to make me believe in God!" He rasped out a few more harsh-sounding cackles, and then, amazingly, began to really get into it. His legs gave way and he sat down hard on his rump, clutching his belly and laughing like a madman. He didn't even object when the twins gamboled around him, showering him with Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

"Please suffocate, please suffocate!" growled Sirius.

Harry had been following this exchange with some difficulty. Little creases appeared in his brow. "What's the big deal?" he asked. "I already knew Professor Lupin was my real dad. Well, actually he's my daddy James in Lupin's body -- "

"Eh?" asked Amelia, although she was wondering if the explanation could possibly be worth the trouble of reciting it. Lupin buried his head in his arms and moaned.

"And I love him very much!" Harry skipped across the room and gathered Lupin up in his smelly, Voldemort-tummy-juice drenched arms, and hugged him.

Snape howled with laughter. His legs kicked weakly. "I can't breathe!" he gasped. "Air! Oh, it's too funny! Air!" Sprout began thumping him on the back.

Rita Skeeter was on her hands and knees, groping through the muck for her notes and a new pen. Her hair had completely dissolved away by now and she was balder than an egg, but in her frustration, she didn't even notice. "There must be one here somewhere!" she muttered to herself, exasperated. "Oh, come on! If I miss a single juicy sentence, I'll just die, I know I will!"

"Look, Harry," said Lupin, pushing his little boy away, "it's more complicated than you think -- "

Harry's eyes widened. He brought a finger to his mouth and began gnawing on it. "But you are my daddy, right?" he asked in a trembling voice.

Lupin sighed. He took the Relativity Rod from Fleur and examined it. He tapped Sirius and Tonks, looked at the yellow light, and checked the instructions. The word 'cousins' was listed. "If this thing is working properly. . . which it seems it is. . . " He stared dourly at the white wand.

"Yes. . . ?" prompted Harry.

"Then. . . I suppose I must be," concluded the werewolf with a deep and mournful sigh.

"I have a family!" screamed the delighted Boy-Who-Had-Lived-A-Second-Time. He sat on Lupin's lap and sucked his thumb. "Will you read me bedtime stories?"

"What a sweet boy!" cooed Dumbledore. "Three million house points for Harry Potter!"

"Thank you, Headmaster," said Harry smugly.

"I hate life," muttered Lupin.

Snape could laugh no more. He sprawled, exhausted and gasping and staring vacantly at the ceiling. Sprout patted his cheek.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied mechanically.

"Are you done laughing for a while?"

"Yes."

"Do you know you're really cute with your hair clean?"

"Yes."

"Will you marry me?"

"Yes."

"WHOOPEE!!!!" screeched Sprout. She produced a ring from some fold in her robes, jammed it on Snape's finger, and then cuddled his head to her rather sizable chest. He came back to reality with an unpleasant start.

"Wait a minute. I didn't mean - What did I say?"

Sirius began to laugh.

"Oh, it's too funny!" he howled. "Air! I can't breathe - Oh, wait, I don't need to breathe. Oh, it's so rich! So just!"

"I think we're going round in circles," muttered Tonks.

* * * * *

They'd forgotten about Bellatrix. Shock and even a small touch of grief had kept her silent while the other dramas in the room were being played out. While Fleur was using her Relativity Rod, Bellatrix was prodding Voldemort's corpse, searching for a way to bring life back to it. But all her quietly whispered spells were in vain. The Dark Lord's body remained as inert as a lump of lard.

Giving into her hate, rarely far below the surface anyhow, she kicked it several times, viciously. All this accomplished was to release a little posthumous gas, which only infuriated her the more. "You utter fool!" she raged. "You buffoon! All these years of build-up for this? Killed by a lump of pig meat? Despicable creature!" She spat on the corpse and a little more of the skin dissolved away.

"Now, now, Mrs. Lestrange," Dumbledore chided. "Don't fuss. Remember, no one likes a sore loser!" He chuckled cutely and Aberforth, who was taking his brother's resurrection very personally, tried to light his robes on fire.

"I refuse to be a loser!" snarled Bellatrix. Her black hair crackled with static electricity, standing up around her head like a dark halo. "And I will not allow a happy ending! Happy endings make me nauseous!" Her dark eyes darted around the room, and for a second, taking her words too literally, some people thought she was looking for something to puke into. But her gaze settled on Lupin. "We have unfinished business to attend to, werewolf," she said coldly. Her hand twitched on her wand, and they could all but smell the words 'Avada Kedavra' hovering near her mouth.

Lupin raised an eyebrow, debating whether death at the hands of Bellatrix would actually be worse than life as Harry's father.

"Oh, for goodness sake, Bella, you can lead the Death Eaters now," said Narcissa grumpily. "Isn't that enough for you?"

"What, with our side down one man and all the Order still standing? Dumbledore alive again?" Bellatrix laughed shortly and coldly. "I think not."

"One Voldemort and one Dumbledore do not mean very much in the great balance of things," protested Narcissa, trying to put her arm around her sister. "Bella, dear, you're tired and not thinking straight. Let's go home. You can watch 'Survivor' and have a nice cup of cocoa with marshmallows and arsenic."

Bellatrix shook Narcissa off. "Cocoa?" She smiled. "Try champagne. When I'm through here, we'll drink a toast to the demise of the Order of the Phoenix!"

"Why wait? Why not start off with a toast?" suggested Lucius brightly. He handed her a goblet.

"I knew you'd come around to my way of thinking," purred Bellatrix, tweaking his chin as she accepted the vessel. "To murder and mayhem and the rise of the Death Eaters!"

Lucius smiled submissively and raised a cup of his own.

"Don't think it'll keep me from chopping you into a pate and eating you on toast if you displease me," she added, before tilting the goblet and swallowing the contents in two gulps.

"Certainly not," he agreed. There was a malicious twinkle in his eye. Narcissa caught it too late. But Bellatrix hadn't caught it at all.

"And now," she resumed, raising her wand, "Avada Ke--gack!!!" With a sudden, strangled gasp, she clutched at her chest, dropping her wand. She fell to her knees and began to writhe.

Narcissa spun about and pinched Lucius by the ear. "What did you do?" she demanded. "Poison?"

"N-no!" he sputtered, wincing. Narcissa's nails were drawing blood.

"My Proteus Potion!" exclaimed Viktor, suddenly realizing that the vial with the last dose of liquid was missing. Fred and George were apparently not the only accomplished pickpockets in the room.

"Proteus Potion?" demanded Narcissa, releasing her husband.

Lucius smiled and got back on his feet. With a wave of his hand, he revealed a very cranky-looking Phremphie. The yellowish-orange spike of his hair had been recently plundered.

Narcissa groaned and turned back to regard her sister. Bellatrix was distinctly shorter than she had been a couple minutes ago. "Not a damned Munchkin!" Narcissa exclaimed, tugging on her own hair.

"Can I keep her?" asked Lucius hopefully.

* * * * *

"Poor Aunt Bellatrix," said Tonks, taking another gulp of firewhiskey. She shook her head. "To think she fell for the old drugged cup routine. Azkaban must've been harder on her than we thought."

It was night. Bellatrix had gone home with Narcissa and Lucius and Phremphie. Phremphie had already been shooting her lustful glances. Narcissa had been prepared to rain horrible fiery death upon her husband's head, but he reminded her that now that Bellatrix was a Munchkin, there was no more competition for leadership of the Death Eaters. So Narcissa had suspended Lucius's demise - a sentence she promised to revoke in a an instant if he ever taught the two of them to sing 'Follow the Yellow Brick Road.' Especially since Bellatrix's voice hadn't improved on becoming a Munchkin. Her little pointed toes sure were cute, though.

"You'll pardon me if I don't feel much sympathy for her," muttered Lupin. He was lying on his back on his bed and staring at the ceiling, perhaps contemplating the best place to hang a hook. His own glass had been emptied six times already. Sirius hesitated, then filled it again.

"I have to say it serves you right, Moony. You utter slag. Maybe this'll teach you to keep your pants zipped for a while."

"Why?" asked Lupin in return. "What could possibly be worse than discovering I'm Harry's father? I used to think James was almost lucky that he'd snuffed it and couldn't see what his little boy had grown into."

"James is royally pissed off at you, by the way."

Lupin was silent a while. Outside in the corridor, Dumbledore skipped past, strewing lilies that had been meant for his own funeral and singing "I'm alive, I'm alive! Wheee! Hello, paintings, hello, carpet! Wheee! I'm alive!"

"And how do you feel?" asked Lupin at last. "I mean, are you still angry at me?"

Sirius chewed the inside of his cheek. Tonks put down her glass to watch him. "No," he admitted at last. "I should have suspected that you and Lily - Hell, I probably did suspect. It is you we're talking about, after all. Besides -- " Sirius took a drink straight from the whiskey bottle and flashed one of his mad grins. "If I thought about it for ten years, I probably couldn't come up with a worse punishment than having to father Harry anyway. So yes, I forgive you."

"Thank you, Padfoot." Lupin let out his breath. "Could you maybe try putting it that way to James? I'd like to see him again sometime. And Lily too. I promise I'll apologize in person."

"I'll see what I can do," promised Sirius. He clinked his bottle to Lupin's glass and they drank.

"So what's going to happen now?" asked Tonks after a while.

"Eh? Well I assume we'll eventually start wandering the hallways singing 'Mama Mia,'" said Sirius offhandedly. "That's usually what happens when we get blotto on firewhiskey."

"No, no, I mean after that. Now that Dumbledore's alive again and Voldemort's dead and Bellatrix is a Munchkin and -- "

"Snape's engaged to Professor Sprout," intervened Sirius, a dreamy expression on his face. "I hope he lets me be the ringbearer. I know where I can get some nice discount manacles -- "

"Oh, stop jesting for a moment, Sirius." Lupin's face was pensive. "I don't know, Tonks. I'm sorry about losing the headmaster's position, I truly am. With Dumbledore back, everything will revert to the status quo."

"Not exactly," replied Sirius. "Quite a few things changed over the last few days, didn't they? It'll take a while for the Order and the Death Eaters to figure out what to do."

"Well, I know what I should do," said Lupin with sudden determination. "Perhaps Harry's not past saving yet. Maybe if I try, earnestly try to improve him, he could still become a credit to society."

Sirius and Tonks exchanged dubiously glances. "What?" Lupin inquired, irritated.

"Umm, Remus, are you forgetting the pig fixation?"

"And the squeaky voice?"

"And the smelly polo shirt?"

"And the speaking in capslocks?"

"And the colossal ego?"

"And the -- "

"No, no, no!" Lupin waved a hand. "I'm not forgetting any of that. I know he's a pill. But Harry's never had a proper home life. He's never known a family. Maybe if I try to actually be his father, he'll stop eating pig and he'll throw away his polo shirt and -- "

"His testicles will descend?" asked Sirius dryly.

Lupin glared. "I want to do something right. Why aren't I getting any support here?"

"Remus, I think your intentions are very good," Tonks told him soothingly. "Unfortunately, I also think you're very drunk. You'll probably forget all about this before morning."

"And I hope you do," finished Sirius.

"Well, we'll see," replied Lupin.

There was a knock on the door. The trio started and exchanged apprehensive glances. After the day they'd just experienced, their late-night visitor could be any number of possibilities, all unwelcome. "Who is it?" Lupin called cautiously.

"It's me, Daddy!" came back Harry's chipper little falsetto voice. "Can you read me a story now, Daddy? How about 'Peter the Happy Piglet and the Can of Pork and Beans'?" The smell of ham wafted through the door.

Sirius and Tonks's gazes flew to Lupin. He was putting on his dressing gown and flicking open a secret panel that led to the third floor corridors. "Hey, wait! Aren't you going to read your little boy a story, Moony?" demanded Sirius snidely.

"Fatherhood can wait one night more, don't you agree?" Lupin smiled crookedly. "Right now, I feel a bout of ABBA coming on." He picked up their last bottle of firewhiskey and flourished it. "Right, who's with me?" Sirius shrugged and joined him.

Tonks pulled on her robe. "Do you guys remember the words?" she asked.

"No."

"Do you remember the tune?"

"No."

"Cool. Sounds perfect."

"Yes, it does, doesn't it?"

And the threesome exited the room, leaving Harry to pound on the door for his pig tale in vain.