The First Prophet Article

And the article concludes...

I fear, with the length to which this article has grown, that you may consider this to be the meanderings of the senile. If you are a student of the history of the War and its players, I think you must wonder where this narrative is taking us. As I said at the beginning, I believe it is the piece of the puzzle that is never properly illustrated in other histories, even those written by my friends, because they did not experience the last battle of the War in the manner in which I did.

I will address that more thoroughly in a moment. For now, we need to finish our narrative. I must show you how and when the weapon of which I spoke, and to which Dumbledore had pointed me, was discovered.

Hermione and Ron entered the garden in full throaty roar at each other. I did not pay attention as they first entered the garden, but as I said, Fred and George did. Ron had pushed through the crowd to catch up Hermione at the entrance to the garden.

As he grabbed her hand he said, "Hermione, wait!"

She spun around, full of fire and ire, and tried to slap him again. "Don't touch me!" she screamed. "I hate you!"

Ron ducked and let go of her hand. She continued into the garden at a near run, tears streaming down her face. "'Mione!" Ron called and took off after her again.

Fred looked at George over Ginny's head as the volume of the Bug had gotten to the point where it sounded like a loud conversation.

"Oh, I think he's really done it this time," said Ginny fretfully. "I hope he can make it up with her, 'cause this is bad."

"Yeah, we'll see," said George slyly. "I think that is about all I can take of this. I'm gonna go get a drink."

"What?" said Ginny surprised.

"Yeah, me too," said Fred. "Watching Hermione belt Ron always makes me thirsty."

Ginny crinkled up her eyes and looked at the two of them suspiciously. Her mistrustful question died on her lips as another yell of, "I hate you!" came over the Bug. Ron had caught up to Hermione again.

The device was now loud enough to make a normal spoken voice sound as loud as a shout, and a shout sound like something said over a megaphone. Several people were now noting the argument with interest. A few even peered interestedly at Ginny and down at the garden path, which was at a lower elevation than the reception area. It gave the watchers a bit of a bird's-eye view of what was to follow.

"Hey, how do you turn the volume of this thing down?" Ginny shouted after Fred and George, trying to make herself heard over the epithets Hermione was yelling at Ron, much to the onlookers amusement.

"A perfect patsy," said Fred, laughing.

"Indubitably," said George, chuckling in turn.

Thus poor Ginny stood fuming at her twin brothers for leaving her with the ever increasing volume of the Bug, among a growing crowd of interested witches and wizards, who were about to hear the best Ron and Hermione row of all time. This row was now occurring right in front of me, at the entrance to my little nook in the garden.

"You don't mean that!" said Ron desperately. I saw him stuffing something in his pocket distractedly. I now know it was the Bug.

"I do! I hate you! How could you say that about me?! How?!" shouted Hermione.

"Look," Ron said, softening his voice. "I didn't mean it, alright? It just slipped out! I'm sorry!"

Hermione crossed her arms, and lowered her voice as well, but she still looked at Ron like she wanted to poke him with a thousand needles. "Lot of bloody good that does," said Hermione angrily. "Why should I accept your apology now that you've embarrassed me in front of your whole family and everyone?"

"Because I'm sorry, alright?" said Ron, his voice aching with angry shame and embarrassment.

Hermione suddenly seemed to deflate in front of my eyes. "I'm sick of this, Ron! I'm sick of it and I can't do it anymore." There was a despairing tone in her voice, and she hung her head, her extravagant curls falling in front of her eyes.

"What the bloody hell does that mean?" asked Ron in confusion. "Look, I never would have said anything if you hadn't gone dancing around with bloody Krum. You know how I feel about him!"

"No, Ron." said Hermione softly, tears flowing freely again. "I don't know a thing about how you feel!"

"What are you talking about? I always get angry over him."

"That's my point, Ron. I'm sick of it, do you hear me? I'm sick of all of this nonsense and tension and waiting!" Hermione was shouting again.

"You're mental, you are!" said Ron throwing his hands up.

"You prat! You insensitive prat! Are you really that clueless? Why should I care what you think of Viktor? Why should I listen when you say you don't like a boy who likes me? What have you ever done to give yourself the right?"

Ron looked on the verge of blurting out something that was either incredibly touching or incredibly insensitive, but then he visibly got control of himself with a shake.

"Because I...I'm your friend...I'm..." Ron began and then sighed. "He's not good enough for you, alright? I'm...I'm just looking out for you."

"Well, Ron," Hermione said loudly in exasperation, "in case you haven't noticed, I am a big girl, now. I can take care of myself. I'm not your sister, and I think tonight will establish that we're not friends. So you can just mind your own business!"

At this point, I noticed a bit of an echo to what the two were saying. Unknown to me, the Bug was now amplifying the argument to the all of the guests in attendance above. People were lined around the edges of the reception area watching the garden, jostling one another for a better look. Being that I was sequestered, or perhaps trapped, in my little nook, I could not see this. But Fred and George were guffawing over the spectacle they had created, while avoiding Mrs. Weasley as she tried to hunt them down among the crowd. In truth, I was thinking about a convenient avenue of escape. But like a bystander watching a terrible accident unfold, I could not pull myself away.

"It is my business!" growled Ron.

"Why!?" asked Hermione pointedly.

"I told you, you mental woman! He's not good enough for you!"

"That's not adequate, Ronald." Hermione had taken on just the lecturing tone that was best calculated to drive Ron mad. "Who is good enough for me?"

"Not him!" said Ron, starting to look like a cornered badger.

"Why?" asked Hermione.

"I...I don't know, alright? He just isn't! I just can't stand...the idea...of you being...with...the wrong bloke." Ron was starting to look like he would explode from mental strain at any moment.

"Who is the right bloke, Ron?" asked Hermione, looking suddenly calm.

Ron seemed about to say something, and his eyes opened wide for a moment. Then suddenly a calm mask descended over his features like a lowering castle gate. He wore mock dignity like a suit of armor. He drew himself up to his full impressive height.

He then said nonchalantly, "I am not getting into all of this with you right now. I told you I'm sorry, and I meant it." His red face and shaking hands belied his sudden attempt at aloofness.

"Why can't you tell me?" asked Hermione, despair crept over her features again, but her voice remained very level.

Ron waived his hand dismissively and turned back towards the reception area. His countenance was raw with nerves and embarrassment, now, not with anger. "Look, I'm leaving," he said.

"If you walk away, I will never speak with you again, Ronald."

Ron looked back at her questioningly over his shoulder. His hands were still shaking and he seemed about to burst.

"I promise you. Never. I can't take it anymore," said Hermione in a coldly calm voice.

Ron turned back around and stood facing Hermione for a moment. He was visibly torn with the fear of leaving and the fear of staying.

"What do you want from me, Hermione!" he shouted desperately, his voice cracking on her name.

Suddenly, Hermione was a streak of bushy hair and flailing fists as she threw herself at Ron. She definitely wasn't calm now! She struck him in the chest several times.

"I want you to tell me how you feel about me, YOU STUPID COWARD!!!" shrieked Hermione, frustrated anger flooding her and spilling out in impotent fury.

Ron withstood Hermione's blows with a surprised look for a second, and then he backpedaled away from her, trying to grab her arms and succeeding only in gripping her shoulders. He shoved her back roughly, saying, "Geroffme!" They stood looking murder at each other and breathing heavily.

Finally, something seemed to snap in Ron. He threw his hands in the air in exasperation and he set his chin like a man walking to the gallows. He looked fearful but brave.

"What do you want me to say, Hermione!? You want me to tell you I fancy you!? FINE! I fancy you, alright!? You want to hear that I feel like I've been kicked in the stomach every time I think of you with Krum or McClaggen or some other bloke!? FINE! I do! You want to hear that I think I'll die if you get hurt in this War!? I WILL!"

Ron's tirade paused for a moment, and Hermione stood there, disbelievingly dumbstruck.

"What else do you want from me, Hermione!? You want me to tell you that a complete idiot like me doesn't deserve someone like you!? IT'S TRUE! You want something else from me!? Do you!? You want my blood!? You want my soul?! Do I have to just throw everything at your feet so you can step on me!? You want to crush me!? What else!? What ever it is, I'LL GIVE IT TO YOU! So, what do you want, ey!?"

Hermione stupidly shook her head in response to the rhetorical questions. Ron's words sounded like the roar of thunder. Swept up in the moment as the two of them were, they did not realize they were hearing the echo of the Bug, which was now amplifying the exchange to the countryside. I peeked around the corner of the hedge to see Ginny above. She was helplessly holding the Bug at arm's length with a finger stuck in one ear. The entire overlook above the garden was packed with witnesses to Ron's confession.

Ron was leaning half forward now, his arms swinging as he ranted, his eyes wide and desperate. "I...I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU! Alright!? Are you happy now!? Are you satisfied!? Is that what you want to hear!? Now go ..."

Ron never got to finish what he was going to say next. Hermione let out a little cry and streaked into his arms. Ron's breath rushed out in a gasp as Hermione nearly bowled him over. He grunted as she squeezed him as hard as her slender frame could manage. Her face was buried under her bushy curls against his chest and her shoulders shook, whether from tears or laughter I could not tell. Ron stood there stunned for a moment. But then he wrapped his arms around her and patted her awkwardly on the top of the head. He held her with a look of red-faced wonder.

"That," began Hermione, her voice muffled against his chest, "is exactly what I wanted to hear."

"'Mione, I..." Ron began.

"I love you, too," finished Hermione and then her arms were twined around his neck and she pulled him down into their first kiss. He still seemed stunned for an instant, but then he quickly began enjoying the moment. He lifted Hermione off her feet and swung her around in a circle. She was giggling into his mouth, but refused to pull herself away from the wonderful thing that Ron's lips had become.

To my own surprise, I felt like jumping up in the air and whooping in celebration.

"IT IS ABOUT TIME!" shouted an excited voice from above, perhaps Neville. Hermione and Ron were so taken aback that they tumbled over in mid-twirl with a grunt.

I peeked around the corner of the hedge trying to see who had said it, rustling the hedge leaves as I did so. Ginny's eyes suddenly swiveled to where I stood. I saw her drop the listening device she was holding. She stepped on it and the amplified sound died instantly.

"Definitely about time!" said Ginny loudly. She was still looking straight at me.

Ginny's statement was a trigger. Like the activation of a volcano, an eruption of cheers and applause came forth from above. I looked up in surprise to see a smile on every face in the gathered throng. People smacked each other on the back, and couples kissed, and friends threw their arms around each other in comradely fashion. Everyone, just everyone, was clapping or laughing in appreciation of what they had witnessed. I saw Fred and George shake each other's hands in a congratulatory manner, and I saw Molly hug Arthur and wipe away a tear. Hagrid was twirling Madame Maxime in a most dangerous fashion, especially given how much Elvish Lager he had imbibed that night. Remus Lupin looked twenty years younger as Tonks attacked him and refused to release the tight hold she had on his neck. Even Minerva McGonagall let out a loud whoop, and that is saying something.

Ron and Hermione looked sheepish for a moment once they regained their feet. But as the adulation rained down, they started to chuckle. Soon Ron was pumping his fist in the air like he had just won the Quiditch World Cup and bowing and capering like a fool. Hermione slapped his arm down in reproach, but her giggles took all of the heat from it.

"Kees her again, you Eedyot," shouted Fleur, shouting through cupped hands. The crowd laughed as Ron complied, scooping Hermione up in his arms like a groom about to carry a bride across a threshold. He planted a lasting theatrical kiss on her lips. Hermione laughed and buried her head in his neck, surrounding them both with the privacy of her voluminous curls.

"Alright, everyone, alright" shouted Arthur Weasley. "Leave them be! Leave them be!" He began pulling the people, talking and laughing, from the edge of the overlook. He herded them back towards the dance floor with the help of Molly and Lupin.

"Ish this a party, or what?!" roared an intoxicated Hagrid. "Whersh the music?"

"Maestro," I heard Bill call in amusement. "If you please, I still need to dance with my new wife."

Thus did the happy crowd disperse back to the reception; with a glow surrounding every face. In short order the overlook was empty but for one lone figure. Ginny still stood there gazing right at me. A conspiratorial smile slowly spread her face. She subtly nodded her head to the side, and looked pointedly to a shadowed section of the garden. It was a good ways distant from the merriment of the reception, as well as the embarrassingly distracted Ron and Hermione.

I quietly made my way past the new couple as they toppled to the ground again with romantic abandon. I made my way to the shadowed spot in the garden as Ron and Hermione began arguing over who should kiss whom and how. The argument began to get a little strident before it dissolved into giggles and a quiet that could only result from renewed snogging. Apparently, the relationship of my two best friends would not entirely change, thank heavens.

So now you are wondering what the hell all of these teenage hormones had to do with the War. You have sat through this entire article, and you cannot imagine what is relevant about this story. The answer comes soon, Dear Reader. It comes soon.

Indeed, since I presently hear my spouse loudly banging pots and pans together as she makes breakfast, I therefore know that I have been up all night writing this monstrosity. Under her breath, she scolds the foolishness of an old man such as I who will make himself sick staying up all night on such projects. She is, right now, speaking to no one in particular about how surprising it is that I, an aged headmaster myself, could neglect my duties and students so terribly by not getting enough rest.

That is the benefit of marriage: you always know exactly where your faults lie.

Because of this indirect tirade that I am presently experiencing, trust me when I say that my article is winding down now. I will get to the moral of this tale directly.

As you undoubtedly know, the War got very bad within days of that wedding. The Battle of Godric's Hollow was fought within a week. At first, it was but a small skirmish between some Ministry agents against a few Death Eaters who were following me. This battle grew as each side poured reinforcements into it, and the Order of the Phoenix came to my aid. In two days the skirmish grew to be the largest battle of the War, excepting the Final Battle.

The Battle of Godric's Hollow can best be called a draw, or perhaps even a defeat to the Ministry forces what with the havoc that the Giants caused. Many good witches and wizards were killed, and many wounded. Yet, the history books tell us that that this was the first time that Voldemort's forces did not achieve their goals. Thus, this battle is called the "turning point" in the War. That is pure Ministry propaganda masquerading as historic record.

I ask you to simply speak to any of those that attended the wedding at the Delacour Estate. Almost every one of them fought in the battle at Godric's Hollow. Ask them what the turning point in the War was for them.

I have asked them. Almost each and every one of them say that it was the wedding. The wedding brought hope again. They witnessed a beautiful event, and the comedic and happy story of Ron and Hermione. Young love bloomed between Bill and his beautiful bride, and between my two best friends. Those who saw it enjoyed that last golden night of peace. The simple joy and wonder of those two events put a smile on every face, and laughter in every heart. We were all comrades, inspired and moved by the simple emotion that Ron and Hermione expressed to each other that night.

Love.

At that point, at that wedding, each guest then knew why they fought. They knew why they cared. They knew why they must fight and must care. They knew why they must fight and fight and fight again, as my old headmaster taught us all.

Historians look at casualty lists and the names of leaders who die. They look at objectives defeated and objectives achieved. Based on an analysis of these factors, they decide who won and who lost a battle. But they do not fight in battle, and they did not fight in the last battle when Voldemort was defeated.

I fought that battle. You already know what happened.

You know how the Ministry, through the timely and measured action of Percy Weasley, sought assistance after the near debacle of Godric's Hollow. You know how they finally allied with the Order of the Phoenix. You know how Scrimgeour sought the assistance of the Muggle Prime Minister. You know the destruction the Muggles unleashed on the Giants at the Final Battle with armored vehicles and crack troops, and how they tipped the scales of that quarter of the battlefield. You know how Wizards now do not disdain the power of Muggle technology or the courage of Muggle soldiers.

You know how Lupin's generalship, Grawp's example, Dobby the House Elf's sacrifice, and the Centaur army's sudden arrival and climactic charge turned the tide of the Final Battle. You know how these proud people ushered in a new era in relations between Wizards and Magical Creatures. These heroes show that to be "human" does not mean to be a simple man or woman.

You know how Draco Malfoy turned on his father and saved the other members of his family. You know how he became a deserved hero in the end.

You know how Arthur Weasley, injured and nearly dead, defeated and killed Lucius Malfoy in a brutal single combat before expiring himself. You know how his sacrifice protected the portkey to the Crucible of the Magus and made my defeat of Voldemort possible. You can now see the statue raised to his memory at the Ministry of Magic.

You know how Hagrid sacrificed himself to save Ron, Ginny, Hermione and me while we destroyed the last of Voldemort's horcuxes in Transylvania.

You know how the Weasley family was not as large after the War as it was before, and why the story of that time is thus so painful to me.

You know how Neville Longbottom avenged his mother and father, and my godfather, on Bellatrix LaStrange.

And volumes have been written about the Crucible of the Magus and my final duel with the Dark Lord there.

Through it all, the victory of these participants was not determined by their skill with wand or weapon. All of us, each and every one, did not fight those battles for glory or for honor. We fought it for each other. We fought it for our families. We fought it for the good of those we loved.

We fought it, in short, because of love.

As Dumbledore taught me, and as he told me that night in the garden: love was the power the Dark Lord knew not. It was the weapon with which we fought.

I discovered this weapon, as I said, under the moonlight in a beautiful French garden. I was hidden under an invisibility cloak with the woman that would become my wife and companion to this present day. She is the woman that is scolding me even now, and banging pots and pans together as I write these last few lines.

I discovered it as I looked into a beautiful pale face with bright green eyes. I discovered it as I ran my hands through her sunrise hair. I discovered it as I realized that she would become, from that day to this, my destiny.

I discovered it as she told me she forgave me.

I discovered it as our lips met.

I discovered it when I told her I loved her, and she me.

From that moment, I knew one thing for certain. I knew something about the greatest dark wizard that the world will, hopefully, ever know.

I knew that Voldemort never stood a chance.

The End