Sunrise Over Britain :: Chapter 31

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Standard Disclaimer:

The curtain opened on the stage and from one side came Alan Rickman, leading a shetland pony and a midget dressed in a cowboy costume. Rickman looked bewildered, but determined. The midget looked strangely like Professor Flitwick.

Rickman stopped center stage and bowed to the audience. Behind him, a backdrop of a space scene appeared, showing the Battlestar Galactica and the Death Star.

A heavy breathing sound came from offstage and Rickman suddenly looked nervous.

"The authors of this story wish for me to tell everyone that they do not own any rights to Harry Potter or the Harry Potter Universe," he said in a trembling voice.

Darth Vader, wearing a pink tutu, stepped onto the stage. He pulled out his light saber and activated it. It glowed a shockingly fluorescent pink.

Rickman eyed Vader warily. "Furthermore the authors want everyone to know that they make no claims to Harry Potter, nor are receiving any monies for writing this tale."

Behind him, a line of barely dressed Vegas showgirls started high kicking. Vader approached Rickman, raising his saber for a killing blow.

"BOB!" shouted Alyx.

Bob started awake and looked around wildly. "huh? What?"

"You're dreaming again! You're supposed to be writing a disclaimer!"

"Oh," replied Bob sheepishly, then he thought about the sheep from Boundin' and he giggled.

Alyx walked off stage muttering about turning Bob in on a new model husband, maybe this time she'd get lucky and get one that was sane.

He watched her walk off stage, admiring her butt, then he sat down with a frown. "You know, I can't think of anything to write as a disclaimer!"

Hermione turned to Harry. "Do you guys really dream about that kind of stuff?"

"Most of the time," Harry said with a shrug. "Except for that time I had a dream about you, a gallon of ice cream and a walrus. That was strange."

Sunrise over Britain
Chapter 31

Minister of Magic, Haven (1100 hours, April 10th)...

The music suddenly stopped and there was a moment of silence.

"We interrupt this broadcast for a special bulletin from the office of the Minister of Magic. Less than half an hour ago, Harry Potter met and defeated the dark wizard known as Lord Voldemort in battle around Hogwarts Castle. We repeat, Lord Voldemort is dead.

"The Ministry further announced that British forces, in conjunction with allied nations, have defeated Lord Voldemort's army in a titanic battle around the former school in northern Scotland. Minister Bones released a very brief statement confirming that a large scale battle had taken place involving thousands of wizards on both sides.

"The Ministry press office announced that they would be issuing a formal statement later in the day. They also announced that they would be issuing instructions for all wizards and witches still living in Britain at this time. In the meantime, observers in Haven report intense activity at Haven Hospital, suggesting that a large number of casualties were received by the hospital.

"The British Wizarding Wireless network will continue to monitor and report on the situation as we obtain more information. And now, back to our show."

The news, first broadcast by the British wireless, was quickly picked up by several wire services. Soon the message would spread around the world.

Haven Operations Center, War Room (1130 hours, April 10th)...

Amelia accepted Miles' offer of handling the allied representatives; she had other things to do. Important things. Once Miles had led them from the Observation deck she stood up and walked over to the door that led down to the war room.

Caleb saw Amelia descending the stairs and turned to Terry. "Be back here in two hours, three tops," he said, smiling.

Terry blinked in surprise, then flashed a quick grin and made a mad dash for the door.

Caleb chuckled. He walked over to Amelia and bowed slightly. "Madam Minister, I am pleased to report that your troops have led us to victory this day."

Amelia smiled with amusement at his formal tone, but she was working very hard to control her own reactions. Part of her felt like crowing with joy, and another part felt like she should crawl into a corner and have a good cry.

The one thing no one could ignore was the board on the wall with the numbers of wounded and killed on it. Those numbers continued to rise as bodies were found, or wounded lost their fight to live.

Wounded 1037
Killed 312
Missing 21

One of the women looked up from her floo and called to Caleb. "Sir, General Stanton is requesting that we begin relocating part of Camp Outhouse to the Hogwarts grounds. He'd like to start standing down parts of his command."

"Have the medical units completed their transfer yet?" he asked.

"Yes, sir, nearly thirty minutes ago."

"Very well. Tell General Stanton he may begin the transfer of the camp," he replied.

"Has there been any word from Colonel Potter?"

"Only indirectly, sir. Colonel Walsh witnessed his duel with V-V-Voldemort and reported him to be exhausted. While technically he's uninjured, she suggested we consider him incapacitated for the day," replied another woman.

Caleb frowned. "That's all very well, but remind Brigade Command that just because their Colonel is down, they don't stop working. I want to talk to Brigade Two as soon as possible."

The girl frowned. "Sir, Captain Black is listed as missing. Let me see if I can get hold of Brigade Command Two. She'll know who you can talk to."

Caleb scowled. "Do that." He turned back to Amelia. "I figure you want to transfer to Hogwarts to view the scene personally. Once I've got the area declared safe, I'll have a portal sent over to send you directly to the Great Hall where the Brigade command post is."

Amelia nodded in reply. She had a statement to give to the press later today and visiting the scene would help her put things in proper perspective.

Padfoot Manor (1135 hours, April 10th)...

John grinned broadly at his son, who had just entered the large sitting room. He stood and walked over to him.

"Hi, Dad," Terry said in a soft voice. Susan was in the next room with his mother and their baby.

"Don't stop to talk to me, Terry. Get going. You've got a wife and a daughter to meet," John said, waving Terry out of the room. "We'll talk later."

Terry nodded and went to his own room, carefully opening the door to peer inside. His mother sat dozing on a nearby chair and Susan was asleep. In the bassinet was a small blanket wrapped object that he assumed was his daughter. Every so often the blanket would move a little.

He walked over to the bassinet and stared down at the very little person. Siomha blinked her eyes and yawned at her father. Apparently, she was finding her birthday pretty boring. He bent over, looking intently at his daughter and performing a ritual that has been performed by fathers since the dawn of time. He counted. He counted her eyes, ears, fingers, making sure every part was where it was supposed to be and in the correct quantity.

"You don't have to do that, you know."

He looked up to see his mother smiling at him. "She has all the right parts." He brow creased in puzzlement. "How did you know what I was doing?"

"Your father counted all your parts when you were born. Said he wanted to make sure I did the job right," his mother replied with a bit of a smile.

"I thought I heard Terry," Susan said sleepily.

He turned to his wife and moved to the bed. "Hey, how are you feeling?"

She smiled up at him. "Sore, and a lot smaller," she replied. "Have you meet our daughter yet?"

He knelt by the edge of the bed. "Yes. She's beautiful, like I knew she would be, just like her mother." He lifted her hand, turned it over and gently kissed the palm.

Susan smiled, then her eyes narrowed. "What are you doing home? Shouldn't you be helping Caleb?"

Jenny Boot moved a little closer to the bed after checking on Siomha. Her daughter-in-law's question piqued her curiosity.

Terry looked between the two. "Caleb told me to come see you. He gave me three hours off."

As that moment, Narcissa walked into the room, followed by her helper. She stopped, seeing Terry.

"Terry? What are you doing here? I thought you were helping Caleb?" Narcissa said, repeating Susan's question.

Terry shook his head. "Hasn't anyone listened to the wireless in the past hour or two?" he asked in exasperation.

"Hello? I gave birth to a baby today. I haven't exactly been interested in listening to music." Susan said with some heat.

Terry grinned. "Well, let me be the first to tell you then," he said, then he turned to Jenny. "Mum, would you bring Dad and the Grangers in, please?"

Jenny hurried from the room, returning a few minutes later with her husband and the Grangers.

Terry squeezed Susan's hand gently. "Less than an hour ago, while our forces were destroying Voldemort's army of Death Eaters, Harry dueled with Voldemort and killed him," he said. Seeing the expressions of those in the room, he held up his hand in a bid for patience. "I don't have any real details, except to say the cost was high. We have received over a thousand wounded, and nearly three hundred killed. Last I heard, Draco and Neville were listed as missing. We haven't heard from Ginny or Luna, so I suspect they're missing also."

"No, they aren't. They're here. Well, some of them are," Dan said.

Terry looked up at him. "What?"

"Their Brotherhood medallions, Terry," Emma said quietly. "Remember the portkey? Draco is in his bedroom, resting about as comfortably as he can. Luna isn't far away, I'm sure. Ginny and Neville we sent on to the hospital. Ginny was hurt badly, Neville too."

Terry stood up and excused himself for a moment. He walked over to a corner where he pulled out a portable floo to report on the locations of Draco, Neville, Luna and Ginny. When he snapped the floo closed, he turned to find everyone, even Eocho, now staring at him.

"What?" he asked.

"What about Harry and Hermione?" asked Emma in a frightened tone.

"Or Remus and Tonks?" added Dan.

Terry smiled reassuringly. "Relax. Hermione was the one who told Operations that the fighting was winding down and that Harry had killed Voldemort, so I'm pretty sure she's fine. I don't have a lot of information on Harry, except what Colonel Walsh provided. She said he had been hit with a pain curse like the Cruciatus for a while, but he shook it off and that he's exhausted from his duel."

Emma choked back a sob, then gave up and began to weep.

"Emma?" Dan asked, concerned. He turned and pulled his wife into an embrace. "What's wrong Em?"

"Nothing," she managed to reply. The other women nodded knowingly, while the men looked clueless.

"Then why are you crying?" asked Dan in confusion.

Emma pulled herself out of Dan's arms and glared at him. Then, in a very Hermione like motion, she stamped her foot at him. "Why not? I've saved this up for a long time now. I didn't cry when we were forced from our home. I didn't cry when we were forced from our country. I have been saving this cry for ages and I'm going to enjoy it!" she said, then she collapsed against Dan again, letting him hold her while she wept.

Dan glanced helplessly around the room, noting the knowing smiles of the women and the looks of sympathy the men gave him. With a sigh, he steered Emma over to a love seat and sat them both down where he could wait out her emotional storm.

Narcissa smiled briefly at the pair. "I'd best go check in on Draco."

Hogwarts (1135 hours, April 10th)...

A not so subtle coughing caused Harry to open one eye. Standing nearby was one of Hermione's people, looking anxious.

"What's wrong?" he asked softly. Hermione was dozing against his shoulder and he didn't want to disturb her.

"Sir, Haven Command is asking to speak to Brigade Command Two," the man said, his eyes darting nervously towards the sleeping Hermione.

Harry stuck out his hand. "Give me the floo, I'll talk to him."

The man nodded, handing the small device over.

"Brigade Six Actual to Haven Six Actual, over."

"Haven Six Actual, Harry is that you?" Caleb said, breaking communications protocol. Harry smirked at the little device.

"Yeah, it's me. Hermione's taking a nap. So was I until you woke us. What's so bleeding important, Caleb?"

There was a moment of silence from the floo and several people that had been guarding the Potters laughed and exchanged amused grins.

"Well, Harry, I know you're tired, but there's still work to be done," Caleb said as if he was suddenly unsure of himself. He had known for a long while that Harry would have to face Voldemort. But he was quickly coming to the realization that, in doing so, and winning, Harry was the most powerful wizard alive and not really someone to cross.

"Alright. Give me a half hour to figure out what is going on, then I'll get back to you. Brigade Six Actual out," he said, then snapped the floo closed and passed it back to the man.

Harry sighed. As much as he wanted to nap, he knew he really couldn't. He nudged Hermione and she slowly woke up.

"Huh? What'd you wake me for?" she sent him sleepily.

"Caleb called to remind us we still have duties to perform," he replied.

"Bugger him and his duties. I was comfortable," she muttered sleepily and shook her head slightly. She was comfortable and warm, and definitely not interested in any duties, but he was right.

Harry chortled at her reaction, then he stood, slowly and painfully. He turned and offered her a hand up.

Noting his pain, she ignored his hand and stood up on her own.

"I'm going to go check the units, Hermione. I'll meet you back at the Command Post in half an hour. In the meantime, I want you to contact Haven. Have them get the camp moving, in particular the field kitchens. Let's get a hot meal into everyone while we figure out what we're doing."

She nodded and moved off in the direction of the Command Post, while he walked over to one of the wall units and took the stairs to the top.

Haven Hospital (1140 hours, April 10th)...

Melinda McKinney escorted Healer O'Donnell to the waiting Weasleys. She had set them up in a private waiting room. It was one of the few spaces in the hospital that wasn't being used for bed space at the moment.

Melinda walked over to Arthur, who stood shakily. She grabbed his arm and he looked at her with haunted eyes.

"Mr. Weasley?" asked Healer O'Donnell.

Arthur nodded and the rest of his family clustered around him, waiting to hear the news.

"Your daughter came through the surgery well enough. The bones in her left leg were shattered. We removed the fragments and have started her on a skele-grow regime. Unfortunately, we were unable to do much for her right leg and were forced to remove what remained of the leg from her knee down."

Arthur gasped. The twins clutched each other, each drawing comfort from the other, while Bill and Charlie both looked angry.

"Most of the other damage was easy to repair." At their questioning looks, she shrugged lightly. "A ruptured spleen and several other broken limbs. Perhaps later today, or more certainly, tomorrow morning, you'll be able to talk to her. I expect her to make a good recovery, but we're keeping her unconscious for the time being.

"As to the condition of her husband..."

"What? Neville's been hurt?" blurted Bill.

O'Donnell looked at them in shock. "Didn't anyone tell you?"

All of the Weasley's looked surprised by the news. Even Melinda hadn't known about it.

O'Donnell sighed and pushed a strand of graying hair behind her ear. "Mind you, I'm not the primary care Healer on his case, but I have spoken with her. I'm afraid that Mr. Longbottom's injuries, while on the surface didn't appear as bad as your daughters, were a lot worse. Mr. Longbottom has slipped into a coma. We are doing everything in our power to help him, but I'm afraid you need to be prepared for the worst."

Arthur rubbed his eyes and nodded in understanding. He knew that losing Neville would probably kill Ginny.

"Bill," he said quietly. "Go to the school. Constance is his grandmother. She needs to be here."

"I'll be back as quick as I can," Bill replied, then he hurried from the room.

Arthur turned back to O'Donnell. "Can we see her? Please?"

O'Donnell smiled gently at the man. "Of course. We have her in our private care unit. She's one of the few in a private room. Healer McKinney will escort you."

Haven School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (1200 hours, April 10th)...

Minerva looked around the large dining area with satisfaction. Her school was coming together. Despite the attack on her by Orla Quirke, she had not lost her love of teaching. In fact, many would say her attitudes towards the children had mellowed somewhat by her brush with death. She was even known to smile and laugh now.

There were fewer students at today's meal than usual. Many had volunteered when the Hospital asked for people to help with a special exercise they were running.

She thought it odd that they would run an exercise in the middle of a supposed Dragon Lung outbreak. It was proof, in her mind, that there was no outbreak. She wasn't sure what Healer August was up to, but she trusted her friend enough to allow her students to help out.

Minerva had just picked up a platter of ham to pass to Ponoma when a squeaky voice started shouting from the doorway of the hall.

"The war is over!" shouted Professor Flitwick. The little man kept shouting the news as he ran up to the staff table, which was only used on special occasions like the opening feast. He hurriedly climbed onto a chair, then the table.

A silence settled over the hall and all eyes turned to him.

"I just heard on the wireless..." he said breathlessly. "A little over an hour ago our forces defeated Voldemort's army outside of Hogwarts. Harry Potter dueled Lord Voldemort and killed him! The war is over!"

Flitwick pulled out his wand and started firing off large, multicolored sparks. Everyone turned to Minerva, who had just been handed a message by a Haven house elf. She read the message, then she stood and walked to the staff table.

A hush fell over the students. Flitwick paused in his display of firework charms, watching Minerva approach.

"Professor Flitwick is right. I have just received word from Professor Pickerton who, as you all know, serves as a consultant to the Ministry of Magical Defense. He writes, and I quote, 'Hogwarts has been retaken by the Lions of Gryffindor. The war is over.'"

Minerva beamed a wide smile at the assembled students. "Classes are canceled for today and probably tomorrow. I expect all students to behave themselves. Tonight we will have a feast to celebrate," she said with a bit of a grin. And for the first time, people would swear she had a twinkle in her eye.

The Dining hall broke out into cheers, while many of the older teachers broke down weeping. Alicia fell into Oliver's arms, crying. Oliver was still employed by the school, while he worked up the plan to build the Haven Warriors into a team they could be proud of.

Oliver, having learned his lesson the hard way, took his girlfriend's emotional storm in hand, patting her back and whispering words of comfort in her ear.

Filius Flitwick scrambled down from his spot on the staff table and went over to Ponoma Sprout. The poor woman appeared to be in a state of shock. With a look of glee on his face, Flitwick scrambled up his chair and tapped her on the shoulder. When she turned to him, he pulled her into a passionate kiss that sent most of the older students howling with wolf whistles and cat calls.

He had always wanted to do that.

Minerva watched the celebration and felt like doing a jig. It was really over! Scanning the crowd, her smile slipped when she saw Bill Weasley crouching down next to Constance. As he spoke to her, her complexion paled and her hands began to tremble.

Constance stood and said something to Bill. He nodded in reply.

Minerva walked over while Constance Longbottom hurried off. When she made to follow, Bill stopped her.

"Professor, she needs a little time," Bill said loudly, so he'd be heard over the yelling students.

"What's going on?" Minerva asked.

"Neville's been badly injured, Ginny too. Ginny will make it, but the healers aren't sure about Neville. They told us to bring his family to the the hospital," he told her.

Minerva gasped and sat down heavily on a chair. In her joy at the ending of the war, she had forgotten that it would come with a price. Bill's comment reminded her that the price of freedom was often purchased by the blood of the young.

Inverness, Scotland (1200 hours, April 10th)...

Sean McDougal felt the barrel press into the back of his head and he froze. He had been helping his friend Michael, who owned a small sail boat. Between the two, they were able to do enough fishing to feed their families and trade for other important essentials, like milk and bread. It was a hell of a way for a man like Sean to survive, but he had children to care for.

"McDougal? Sean McDougal?" hissed a voice.

"Aye? What do yer want?"

"You're a pilot?"

"Aye, I was," he replied.

Suddenly a black hood was thrown over his head and he was picked up and carried to a vehicle.

I'm dead, thought McDougal. Mary, forgive me. The black robes and their ilk have finally come for me.

After about twenty minutes of driving, with a lot of starts and stops, the vehicle came to a stop and he was unceremoniously pulled from the vehicle. He stood on shaky legs. He could feel two men, one on each side of him, holding him up. Then they were walking him up a ramp.

There was a sound of machinery noises, and a loud, regular, thumping sound. The men holding him pulled off his hood and released him. He looked around wildly, then the floor tilted and someone grabbed him, steadying him. He was inside a helicopter!

He recognized some of the other men, all pilots. A man came by with a box full of headsets and helped each man put it on and plug it in. The sound of the helicopter faded.

"Good morning, gentleman," said a black man in an unfamiliar uniform.

McDougal stared at the man, spotting the American flag patch on his arm. "I'm Captain Rodue, United States Marines. You're here with us today, courtesy of Uncle Sam and your King Charles. Our destination is Task Force 626, where we will use your services as harbor pilots to pilot our invasion fleet in."

One of the harbor pilots looked out a small porthole and exclaimed. He pointed and the others clustered around the small window. In the distance, they could see the task force of over two hundred ships carrying the 1st Marine Expeditionary force, the 1st Armored Division and 4th Infantry Division.

The helicopter was flying a precise route and at a precise altitude. Any deviation from that path would have resulted in it being shot down.

The airport was already in the hands of marine recon units and 3 Scotts. Naval aircraft had been pounding Fort George since dawn. All this in preparation for an amphibious landing, followed by the heavy container ships carrying the bulk of an armored division and several aviation regiments.

Captain Rodue wouldn't give them any information, except to say that other forces of the Allied Nations were also in the field, engaging the enemy. The harbor pilots exchanged grateful glances. Their families might be worried about them for a few days, but they would come home to them.

The large Chinook helicopter maintained it's precise heading and altitude. Above it, flights of ground attack fighters flew towards land. Below them, LCACs of the United States Navy were busy bringing in the men and equipment of the first Marine Expeditionary force. They were the advanced guard, the ones who would secure a toehold. The real forces wouldn't start arriving until later tonight.

Padfoot Manor (1300 hours, April 10th)...

Draco opened his eyes and bit his lip, trying to stifle a groan. He was laying on his stomach, something he hated! But he found himself in too much pain and too weak to move. He tried anyway, and knew in an instant he had made a major mistake. He had pushed up on both of his arms so that he was above the bed slightly.

His arms gave out and he fell the scant two inches he had managed to raise himself. He lay on the bed, trembling, as waves of pain pressed against his mind, threatening to overwhelm him.

"Shh... It's going to be alright, Dray," said a soothing voice. Then something was placed against his lips.

"Drink this. It's a pain relief potion."

He sucked eagerly on the straw, drinking down the foul tasting concoction. As he ingested the fluid, the pain began to drift away. He finished the potion and gave a heavy sigh of relief.

A hand brushed the hair from his eyes and he looked at Luna. Fuzz, who had returned to the manor with Neville, rested on her shoulder, whirring and looking at him with sad eyes.

"Thank Merlin you're safe," he whispered.

"I am, thanks to you, my protector," she murmured, then her expression changed and she wiped at a tear that threatened to fall. "Mum says you'll heal, but the curse that hit you lingers still, slowing the healing. She said it's going to be painful."

"Can't someone dispel it?"

She shook her head sadly. "No one knows what curse it is, so they can't try a counter curse for it. And..." She paused and dashed away some more tears.

"What's wrong?"

"I asked for them to send for Ginny so she could try neutralizing it, but she can't. She's in the hospital, badly injured. Neville too. They say he's in even worse shape," she told him.

"Harry and the others?" he asked worriedly.

"They're fine, as far as we know. Word came from Hogwarts that Harry killed Voldemort. Now you must rest. Your Mum has returned to the hospital, but she'll be back in two hours to check on you and Susan."

"Susan? How did she get hurt?"

Luna smiled gently at his confusion. "She's not hurt, Dray, she gave birth to little Siomha today. I saw them a little while ago while you were sleeping. She's fine and the baby is very nice. I think I want one."

Draco smiled and nodded in his drug induced haze, not quite understanding what he was agreeing to. "Anything you want, love."

His eyes drifted closed as the pain relief potion started to affect him more. He was nearly asleep when his eyes suddenly sprang open.

"Luna?"

"Mmmmm?" She sat not far away, humming absently to herself. She had conjured several hubcaps and was contemplating the possibilities of using one of them as a hat.

"Did I just promise to give you a baby?" he asked.

She repositioned the hubcap on her head and applied a sticking charm, then she leaned over and patted his hand. "You did, but don't worry. I think we should practice for another year or two. Besides, it's not like we can do anything now," she said disappointedly.

"It's not like I planned this," he protested.

"I know," she said, grinning at him. "But it was very Gryffindorish of you."

Draco moaned and closed his eyes in shame. He'd never live this down.

Fuzz, her eyes narrowed, stared at the hubcap with suspicion.

Hogwarts Castle (1300 hours, April 10th)...

Hermione went about her job in the Command post, ignoring the urge to find Harry, apparate to their room at Padfoot and sleep for a year. She had managed to put together a picture of the Brotherhood Brigade and it wasn't a good picture.

She also kept her link to Harry wider than usual. His pensive mood bordered on melancholy and it worried her. Part of her understood why he felt the way he did, and another part didn't. She recognized that Voldemort had been a critical part of Harry's life since he was fifteen months old and now he was gone. The magnitude of what he had accomplished was hidden behind the aftermath of the fight.

Hermione shook her head and tried to concentrate on the latest batch of numbers she had been handed. She realized that even she wasn't fully understanding the magnitude of what happened here today. She looked down briefly at the parchment in her hand.

Wounded 161
Dead 80
Missing 6

One third of the Brigade, she thought with a heavy sigh.

"What was that? One third of the Brigade what, Hermione?" Harry asked anxiously. He was out examining the collapsed wall in Delta sector. There was no way to repair it. It would have to be replaced if they intended to keep the castle walled.

"More than one third of the Brigade. That's our casualty figures," she replied tensely. She waited anxiously, expecting him to explode.

There was a long moment of silence and she could feel his emotions warring within him. She winced slightly when he ruthlessly pushed them down.

"I see," he replied. "And the Raiders? What of their casualties?"

She scrambled for that information. As the field commander for the British led assault, he had access to that information so he could keep Haven apprised of what was happening.

"They're in much better shape than we are. Total casualties are just under one hundred."

Again there was a long silence while he mulled over the numbers. "Inform Haven of our operational status and suggest that the Brigade and the 2nd Shamans be pulled from the line. The Raiders can fill in our position and we can leave them Baker company as a reserve."

"I'll do that now," she sent in reply.

"Good. Is there anything else?"

"Yes. We have a few dispatches from Haven. Do you want me to read them to you or just give you a summary?"

"Just a summary, please." She could almost feel his smile.

"Right then," she replied as she flipping through the parchments. "Oh, here's good news. Draco is wounded, but he's alright and currently at the manor with Luna and Fuzz."

"Good. I was worried about Fuzz," he replied wryly.

She frowned. "Ginny and Neville are badly injured and at Haven Hospital. We don't have any more information more than that, I'm afraid. Oh, and Terry must have slipped this in. I'll read this one verbatim. 'Maglios, the Boots are proud to announce the birth of Siomha Amelia Jennifer Boot at 9:07 this morning. Mother and Daughter are doing well.' Isn't that great news?" she asked.

"Yes, we could use good news. Anything else I need to worry about?"

She flipped through more parchments, most of which were routine stuff that she'd take care of. "Oh, here's something," she replied, then she frowned and reread the message.

"Hermione?"

She glanced at her watch. "You better get back to the command post, Harry. Amelia, Caleb and a contingent of reporters will be here in about fifteen minutes."

"Oh, bugger," he replied. "I'm on my way."

She placed the dispatches on the table and turned to his pack to dig out a clean uniform for him. The shirts and ties will expect him to be clean when he gives the tour, she thought to herself. She chuckled as she finally came to understand what REMF stood for.

Ten minutes later, Harry limped into the Great Hall and Hermione tossed him his uniform. He caught it and nodded, then she pointed to a small curtained off area where he could change.

She watched him and her eyes narrowed in suspicion. He ducked behind the curtain and she followed him, watching carefully as he changed out of his stained and torn uniform into something cleaner.

"What?" he asked, looking up at her.

"You used that spell on your leg, didn't you?" she asked angrily. "Dammit Harry, that strengthening spell can cause damage!"

He sat back, his shirt unbuttoned and glared at her. "Hermione, if I hadn't used that spell, you'd be talking to a corpse right now. I know what the spell is going to do."

She deflated and sat down heavily next to him. "You're right. Merlin! I'm sorry," she said tiredly. "I guess today is just catching up to me. So what? The spell wore off an hour ago?"

When he nodded, she opened the potion box still attached to the belt on his dirty pants and rummaged through it, finding the nearly empty bottle of pain reliever. She frowned, then pulled out an unused bottle from her own kit and put it in Harry's.

He looked at her and she shrugged her shoulders. "You have the Minister and others coming. You'll need to be able to walk around. I know tonight is going to be painful, but we'll get through it, together. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that."

He smiled at her and patted her hand before buttoning up his shirt. "It's alright. I've always known I'd need to use that spell just to give me the mobility I needed. I thought it was more important to do whatever it took to come out of this alive..."

She smiled at him. "We're all coming out of this alive," she said softly.

He nodded in agreement, but his expression was more somber. "But not unchanged," he murmured, thinking of Draco, Neville and Ginny.

"No, not unchanged," she agreed, her own thoughts echoing his.

Around the World (1300 hours, April 10th)...
British Refugee Camp at Fort Ord, California, USA.

The number of wounded and critical patients had slowed to a trickle, then stopped several hours ago. The healers at Fort Ord were perplexed by the sudden lack of patients, but they were also grateful. The respite gave them time to go back and deal with other, less critical issues with their patients.

The volunteers among the staff, mostly made of up witches and wizards rescued from the British prison camps, still rushed around helping people. News trickled in slowly to the hospital from the thousands still living at Fort Ord in the hopes that they'd be allowed to go home someday.

At first, no one wanted to believe it. It wasn't until the chief healer had the public address system tied into the American Wizarding Wireless that the news became believable. Harry Potter had killed Voldemort.

It was the wireless services that broke the news to the world, the message spreading like a pandemic of happiness.

In Egypt, one of Sheik Alim's sons rushed into his tent on the plateau at Giza and hurriedly turned on the wireless. Within minutes, the entire camp was celebrating the victory. Later that evening, Sheik Alim would father three more sons and two daughters. One son would be named Harry, and a daughter Hermione, in honor of his friends.

In Brussels, Belgium, the mood was more somber and serious. News of the death of Voldemort and the defeat of his army pushed NATO into high gear. They were the coordinating agency controlling the muggle invasion forces, although the largest forces were British and American.

Voldemort's defeat had caught the muggles off guard. Officially, they had expected it to take much longer to defeat him than it had. As a result of this earlier victory, they switched to an alternate plan that had been developed by the Americans. Instead of invading at dawn, they would avail themselves of the American's capabilities and invade at night. The American army had turned night to their advantage. It was something that made all potential adversaries of the American's wary.

In Washington D.C., the mood was mixed. The Prime Minister of Britain and the King had been invited to spend a few days at the White House. Publicly, it was hailed as a gesture of friendship between the two nations. Privately the PM and the King would be watching from the Situation Room of the White House. From there, they would be able to monitor what was happening and issue orders to British Forces.

When the news came of Voldemort's defeat, both men bowed their heads, overcome with relief and grief. Taking Voldemort out of the picture had been the job of the wizards. Taking back the country and returning it to it's rightful government would be their job.

Padfoot Manor (1330 hours, April 10th)...

Emma caught Narcissa in the grand foyer. She was returning to the manor to check on her charges. Between Draco and little Siomha and her work done today at the hospital, she had, according to Sylvia August, picked up several major points needed for her full Healer certification.

"Cissy, I'm glad I caught up with you," Emma said hesitantly.

Narcissa gave the woman a tired smile and reflected on how a few years ago, she wouldn't have even spoken to her, and now she considered her a friend.

"Is there anything wrong, Emma?"

"No, I was just wondering how Ginny and Neville are doing."

Narcissa frowned. Ordinarily she wouldn't discuss patients with anyone except spouses and family members, but in a sense they were all part of a much larger extended family. She bowed her head for a moment, thinking, then she looked at Emma with a grim expression.

"Ginny was badly injured. She's lost her leg from the knee down and her other leg was crushed. That's relatively easy to fix. The loss of a limb, however, is not," she said, then she paused and motioned for Emma to follow her into the sitting room.

Taking a seat, she waited while Emma got comfortable.

"You never met Alastor Moody, did you?" she asked.

Emma shook her head. "No. I remember Hermione writing about him in her letters, but I never met the man."

Narcissa smiled slightly. "In some ways, muggle medicine outstrips magical medicine and in others, we outstrip them. For example, we can regrow bones and even an organ or parts of an organ. After all, a liver is a liver, and a lung is a lung. When Harry was shot, it was easy for the healers to regrow parts of his lung.

"Moody was an example of the fact that we can't regrow a limb. It's just too complex, compared to an organ that consists of one type of tissue only. A limb has bone, muscle, nerves, skin and blood vessels. There are so many little specialty pieces that makes it much more complex than a single organ.

"We can't even regrow muscle mass properly. That's why Harry's leg hurts him when he strains it. The muscles have grown back, but the tissue is scarred and improperly formed. Unlike organ tissue, muscles require specific layering or the muscles will knot and cramp.

"Now Ginny will recover and once she's gotten over the psychological trauma, she'll be fine. She'll be fitted with an artificial leg, and unlike what Moody used, hers will look almost real. Moody was a purist and insisted on using a plain, old fashioned peg leg."

Narcissa paused and let Emma absorb that information before she continued.

"Neville is a different story. He was badly injured and the healers worked very hard to help him. The problem is that, right now, he's in a coma and they don't know why. They think he was hit by a curse, but they don't know what it was so they can't use a counter curse."

"That's because he wasn't cursed, Mum," said a voice from the door.

Narcissa turned to stare at Luna. Behind her was Eocho.

"How would you know what's happening with Neville, sweetheart?" Narcissa asked.

"I told her," Eocho said.

"I asked Eocho about what I was feeling coming from my brotherhood bond. Like Harry, I tend to feel the others more than everyone else. When Dray fell asleep, I was able to concentrate on what had been bothering me. Neville wasn't cursed, he needs Harry's help. Harry is the only one who can help them now," Luna said seriously, then she blinked and smiled happily at a spot on the wall. Fuzz eyed the same spot on the wall and whirred softly.

Luna reached up and stroked her familiar. Both eyed the spot, wondering what it would do next.

Narcissa scowled. She knew without Draco's direct influence, Luna would have trouble focusing on things. "Luna, it could be days before the Brigade returns to Haven. Neville may not have that much time," she said softly.

"Nature's child is correct, healer. Neville is fast losing his battle to live, not because of some curse, but because he no longer wishes to remain alive," Eocho said firmly.

Emma gasped and her hand flew to her mouth. "Why?" she demanded.

Eocho turned to Emma. "Because he thinks his mate died in battle," he said softly, "and he does not wish to live without her. He lost more than his life when he went into battle, he lost his hope, his reason to live. I had feared that the Maglios would be in such a position, but he and his mate are both alive and well."

Narcissa frowned. She knew such a thing was possible, albeit, very rare. Her problem was she couldn't understand how Harry could help.

"So, Harry is the only one that can help Neville?" she asked doubtfully.

Eocho nodded. "The Maglios will need both of them in the same room, but yes, he can reach Neville. Of all of the Brotherhood, he is the most advanced in the magics of the mind and in manipulating magic directly. No one else has the power or the ability. Only the Maglios will be able to enter Neville's mind and show him that his mate still lives."

Narcissa stood and walked over to a table, where she quickly wrote out two notes.

"Dobby!" she called.

Dobby appeared and blinked in apprehension, seeing Narcissa had summoned him. Narcissa smiled at the little elf hoping to ease his concern.

"Dobby," she said gently. "I need you to deliver two messages."

She handed the notes to Dobby, instructing him to deliver one to Healer McKinney and the other to Harry. Dobby took the notes and vanished with a pop.

Hogwarts Castle (1335 hours, April 10th)...

The camera's flashed over and over again, flooding the area with bright light. Harry blinked back the after images of headstones and turned to look at Amelia, instead of watching the photographers from The Paper and other news outlets. Bertrand Lovegood stood behind his photographer, rapidly scribbling down notes on a pad. He was in his element, orchestrating a news conference, as well as getting what he needed for the special edition he planned on printing.

Harry was relieved to see the press using a standard dicta-quills, rather than the type Rita Skeeter used to use. This story was so good, it didn't need embellishment.

"So, that's him?" asked Amelia after several minutes of staring at the body.

Harry nodded and averted his eyes. He had only glanced at the body once since the fight, but it was an image that would be forever burned into his memory. "Yes, that's him," he replied. He leaned against a headstone, resting his aching leg.

Caleb stood next to Amelia, looking down at the body. Finally, he looked up at Harry. "What is your condition?"

Harry mistook his question. "We're down to about sixty percent. I'd say, just as a guess mind you, that another ten percent are borderline magically exhausted."

Caleb nodded. He knew the numbers before he arrived. "Yes, I know, but I meant you. How is your leg?"

Amelia watched the two for a moment, then turned to go speak with the members of the press. Caleb motioned for Harry to follow him away from the press conference that was starting up around the body of Voldemort.

Harry limped over to another headstone and leaned against it. "It hurts, but the pain relief potions keep the edge off."

Hermione appeared at the edge of his vision and he looked over at her. She stood waiting for him to acknowledge her. Next to her stood Dobby.

"Message from Haven. It sounds important, Harry," she sent him.

"Give me a moment," he replied.

"What do you want to do, Harry?" asked Caleb.

"Have we transferred all of Camp Outhouse to Hogwarts yet?"

"No. We're moving over enough to house at least two of the American divisions. It was our thought to house your units in the castle for now," Caleb replied.

Harry frowned. "I don't think that will work, Caleb. With few exceptions, most of the rooms are empty. The castle is just an shell at the moment. Realistically, both the Brotherhood Brigade and the Shamans should be pulled off for resupply and rest. The Raiders have few casualties, and I can leave them Baker Company to round out their unit."

Caleb looked around at the people manning the walls. Several of the soldiers had pulled out field stoves and were heating food and drink. They were in a stand down mode and Caleb knew it. The major threat was gone.

He turned back to Harry. "Let me talk it over with Amelia, but I think we can send your unit and the Shamans back to Haven by six tonight, if all goes well."

Harry nodded. He could live with that. When Caleb turned to watch Amelia, he motioned to Hermione, who walked over to him with Dobby following. Dobby reached up, holding a note, and Harry took it.

He read quickly and sighed. When Caleb turned and looked at him questioningly, Harry gave him the note and felt Hermione take his hand gently. He had let her read the note through the bond. She leaned against him and fought to hold back the tears.

Caleb glanced down at the note from Narcissa.

My Lord Black,

Neville's condition is critical. Luna and Eocho both say that only your expertise in the mind arts can help him, at this point. We need you to return to Haven as quickly as you can.

Ginny's condition is stabilizing. She lost her leg from the knee down and her other leg was badly injured. We expect her to recover fully.

Draco and Luna are in the manor. He was injured and being held by Luna when his portkey activated, bringing both here. His injuries are not life threatening.

Narcissa Black

Caleb's frown tightened and he handed the note back to Harry. "If Amelia doesn't give us permission to return by six tonight, I'm authorizing you to turn command over to Allan Humbert. You and your Brotherhood will then proceed back to Haven. Understand?"

Harry nodded gratefully to Caleb, then he turned to the house elf. "Dobby, return to Narcissa. Tell her we will be returning by six this afternoon. Do whatever it takes to keep things calm and stable until I get back."

Dobby nodded and vanished with a pop.

"I know you're worried, Harry," Caleb said under his breath. "But you'll get through this. In the meantime, it's time to help Amelia."

Caleb pasted a smile on his face and moved to stand next to the beckoning Minister. Harry and Hermione followed a moment later, although neither was smiling.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the press, it gives me great pleasure to introduce you to Harry Potter, commander of the British Forces and the man that personally dueled and beat the dark wizard known as Lord Voldemort," Amelia said, smiling broadly.

Harry winced and blinked as dozens of camera flashbulbs exploded in his face.

"Patience, my love," Hermione encouraged. She knew his leg was hurting him, and he was very worried over Neville and Ginny.

"Lord Potter!" shouted a reporter from Boston Broom News. "How do you feel, having defeated you-know-who?"

"His name was Voldemort. If you can't manage that, call him by his real name, Tom Riddle," Harry replied coldly. "As to how I feel, I honestly can't say. Right now, I am more concerned with the condition of the brave men and women I led in this fight.

"Sure, I fought and killed Voldemort, but they fought off thousands of dark wizards. Thousands. They are the real heroes of this story, not I."

"But how do you feel?" shouted another reporter.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, not knowing that, in that instant, he would be providing Wizarding Time Magazine with their cover photo of the year.

"Voldemort has been a part of my life in one way or another since I before I was born. I guess I feel relieved and maybe a little saddened that it had to come to this point. He wasn't born a dark wizard, he was molded into one by an indifferent society that didn't care enough to look after their own kind. He didn't wake up one day and say 'I think I'll become a dark wizard today.' No, he slowly took a terrible path that led us all to this place.

"So I guess I feel a little saddened by it all. Because of him, I've been forced into situations where I've had to kill to keep myself and those I love alive. That saddens me."

"So what happens now to the Boy-Who-Lived?" asked Bertrand Lovegood.

Harry looked sharply at Bertrand. The man knew that he hated that title. But Harry also knew exactly what Bertrand was asking.

"Hopefully, you good folks will allow the Boy-Who-Lived to fade into obscurity and I can live my life as I have always wanted; as plain old Harry Potter, husband to the smartest witch alive, and maybe someday a father."

Hermione moved a little closer to Harry, smiling at him. The reporters laughed at his comments. Harry Potter was now the stuff of legends. He had as much of a chance of a quiet private life as the King of Britain did.

"What about the reconstruction of Britain?" shouted a reporter from the German daily, Die Lesestift.

Amelia stepped forward. "For the moment, Hogwarts and Diagon Alley in London will act as rescue and relief centers. Any witch or wizard needing medical attention, food or other assistance should make their way to one of those locations. It is our hope to open rescue centers in more than a dozen locations within the next few weeks. Right now, our principle concern is to make sure everyone is fed and has proper medical treatment. We will start rebuilding in a few days."

"Do you have any messages for any British citizens? Should they make their way to a rescue center?" asked Bertrand Lovegood.

Amelia shook her head. "No. If you are in need of food, shelter or a healer, come to a rescue center. If you are in good shape, stay where you are. We will be setting up a place you can go to register your location and look for any loved ones that may be missing."

"Lord Potter! Will you be helping in the reconstruction efforts, as well?" asked a reporter from the New York Daily Newts.

Harry stepped forward again. "I have promised Headmistress McGonagall that my wife and I will aid in the reconstruction of Hogwarts and Minister Bones knows that she can call on me. But I'm afraid my first duty is to the Brotherhood Brigade, which is now an officially sanctioned unit of the British Army. As some of you are aware, we have cooperated closely with His Majesty's government in the past year. The Brotherhood Brigade is partly the result of that cooperation and I owe His Majesty a debt."

Harry paused for moment, then he grinned. "Once the initial crisis is past, I think my friends and I are going to go away for a well deserved rest."

Harry glanced at Caleb, who nodded to him. With that, he turned and limped away. Hermione walked a little behind him, watching and gnawing on her lip worriedly. His limp was becoming more pronounced as the day progressed.

The Forbidden Forest, 806th Animagi Division (1400 hours, April 10th)...

The clean up detail in front of the castle had a very difficult job. There were thousands of trapped portkeys and unbroken vials of erupment fluid all over. Fortunately, in Amos Madison's opinion, Sergeant James was allowing the use of magic to clean up.

Amos walked side by side with fifty others of his unit, banishing everything they came across, including bodies that the acromantulas weren't interested in. Amos shuddered at the thought of it. He had learned an interesting fact today. Well, Sergeant James had thought it interesting, at least. Apparently, spiders preferred live food or, at the very least, freshly killed food.

The 806th was detached to the British Ministry for the duration, while the other American units took the portals back to Haven. From there, they would help the invading muggle forces.

"Madison!" shouted Sergeant James.

"YO!" Madison replied as he stopped and looked towards the man.

"Fall out and prepare for patrol duty. Hook up with your partner," James said.

Madison nodded and carefully backed out of the line. Turning, he moved away, watching the ground for anything they might have missed.

"Monroe, Wilson, Parkers, Chen and Jacoby! Fall out and join Madison! Line! Reform!" shouted James.

The other five men fell out of the line, mimicking Madison's slow walk out of the danger zone. Meanwhile, the men still in the line moved slightly, each man taking a little more space to make up for the loss of six people. The line would slow down and make three more passes over the area before they would declare it safe.

Madison waited by Sergeant James for the other men to catch up with him. James eyed the group, waiting until everyone was close enough.

"Alright, you meatheads, the CO says we're to patrol north and west of our position, looking for any signs of dark wizards or dark creatures. Avoid the acromantulas and the centaurs. They will cover their own territories for us. This is a six hour run, that's three hours out and three back for those of you too dumb to do the math. Mind you, this area is NOT declared pacified, so don't take any chances.

"The Limeys reported that some of the slaves broke from the pens before they were able to evacuate them all. We don't have a lot of information, except to say that some were seen heading west into the forest. These women haven't been treated well, so if you run across any, go easy on them. The best thing to do would be to phone it in, and wait for a female team to come get them. Understood?"

Everyone nodded and Madison walked over to stand next to Jacoby. "You ready?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm good. Wanna flip for the honors?" asked Jacoby.

"Nah. I'll take it on the outward leg, you can have it on the way back," Madison replied.

Jacoby grinned. "Sounds good to me. Let's saddle up."

Madison nodded and his body swiftly flowed from his normal form, to his Lynx form. Jacoby would retain his human form while Madison ranged out in front of him, searching for danger. On the way back, Jacoby would assume his arctic fox form and Madison would return to human form. The Animal/Human pairing was a unique feature of the 806th Animagi Division and it was a tough tactic to beat.

Jacoby nodded to the Lynx and it trotted toward the tree line.

Haven Hospital (1500 hours, April 10th)...

Ginny was in one of the few private rooms, along with all of her family. The bone shards in her leg had been removed and the bone was currently regrowing under the watchful eye of Melinda McKinney.

Arthur sat, his face pale and haggard. He tried not to look at the bottom of the bed where they had tented the blankets to keep them off the stump. Nearby, Fred and George spoke in hushed whispers, while Charlie paced and Bill leaned against one wall, staring at his baby sister.

Ginny was unconscious and had been since her arrival, but it was a magically induced coma. Melinda had explained that she wanted Ginny to remain that way until the skelegrow had done it's job.

The door opened and Arthur looked up. He was surprised to see several volunteers wheeling a bed into the room. He stood to say something in protest when he saw it was Neville.

"Constance?" he asked of the old woman who followed the bed. "What's going on?"

Danni walked into the room and spoke with Melinda. Moments later, the two healers fussed around with several magical monitoring devices by Neville's bedside.

Constance Longbottom walked over to Arthur, but she watched the two healers anxiously. One of the monitors began to beep slowly, too slowly. She tore her gaze away from Neville and turned back to Arthur.

"I'm not sure, Arthur. Neville was in the critical care ward and then they came along and moved him here. But I know his condition hasn't improved," she said in a hushed tone.

Melinda walked over to them. She looked around and the other Weasley's moved closer to hear her.

"Arthur, Mrs. Longbottom, I'm sorry if we haven't been able to tell you what's going on, but I heard from Narcissa. You know that ghost thing you have up at the Manor house? The one that all the kids listen to?"

Arthur's eyes darted to Constance, then back to Melinda. "Healer McKinney, that entity is supposed to be a state secret."

"Oh, pish posh, Arthur," Constance said, looking at the man like he was daft. "Don't you remember I was present when they told us they had to get married? That creature was there then. It's no secret. Great Merlin's balls, they talk about him up at the school!"

Arthur winced and turned back to Melinda with a sigh. "Go ahead, Melinda. You were saying?"

"Anyway, Narcissa says that Neville isn't in the shape he's in due to a curse. She says, and I quote, 'Eocho says he went into battle thinking Ginny was dead and he had nothing to live for.'"

"No!" Constance gasped. Her complexion had gone pasty and she began to sway dangerously. Arthur and Melinda jumped to her aid and helped her into a chair.

"He's given up? He's dying?" Arthur asked in a strained voice. The loss would kill Ginny!

"We've done everything we can think of, Arthur, but he's still slipping away," Melinda said tightly. She hated losing like this!

"Isn't there anything you can do?" asked Constance plaintively. She was a strong woman, but Neville represented the hopes and continuation of the Longbottom line.

Melinda nodded. "We're trying a few things, and we're hoping that bringing the two of them together might help. But Narcissa says the only one that can help is Lord Potter. She didn't go into specific detail except to say that his expertise in the mind arts are needed at this point."

Arthur and the rest grasped onto this offered straw. "Is Harry coming?" he blurted.

Melinda nodded. "He is, but he can't leave Hogwarts until later. For now, we need to keep Neville alive and we're going to wake Ginny up early. We're not sure, but we learned from Lord Potter's hospital stay that the magical coma puts her mind out of reach. We think he'll need her awake."

Arthur blanched. "Awake? But the potion is so painful," he protested.

Melinda sighed and wiped a tired hand over her brow. "I know, Arthur, but I don't know what else we can do. Neville is dying and you know what will happen to Ginny if that happens. I promise we'll do our best to try to minimize her pain, but skele-grow limits our options."

Arthur glanced down at Constance, who was looking up at him with a pleading expression. Finally, he nodded in defeat. Neville was family and without him they would certainly lose Ginny, as well.

Constance laid a hand on Arthur's arm and he placed his over hers. "No matter what happens, Constance, you're family. We're all family and we'll see this through, together. For them."

Hogwarts Inner Court, Delta Sector (1530 hours, April 10th)...

Amelia and Caleb waited in the inner courtyard, where the wall had been breached by Voldemort and his Chosen. Members of both the Raiders and the Brotherhood Brigade worked over the rubble from the wall, looking for bodies.

Caleb stiffened, seeing a line of sheet covered bodies. Not far away was a larger pile of black robed bodies. He hated this part. And it didn't help that Bertrand Lovegood stood not far away, escorting members of the world's press. It was a necessary evil and he didn't blame Lovegood, but he didn't have to like it either.

Several men levitated a large wall fragment, then two medics scrambled into the hole made by the boulder. A moment later they scrambled back out, levitating a body behind them. Workers in the courtyard fell silent as the body was placed in the line and covered with a sheet. Several stood at attention, honoring their fallen.

"What will happen to them?" Amelia asked in a reverent tone.

"Some will be returned to their families. The rest we will take care of, Amelia. We give them the very best and we will remember them," Caleb replied.

"Look at this," Amelia said, pointing out the boulder strewn courtyard. "Can you imagine fighting in this? And in the dark, no less?"

She shook her head, marveling at how a school had been turned into a battlefield. Her fond memories of Hogwarts had been forever tarnished, seeing the school like this.

"Minister, with your permission, I would like to rotate the Brotherhood Brigade and the Shamans back to Haven as soon as possible," Caleb said, trying to change her mood.

She looked at him curiously. "Aren't they needed here?"

"Their presence wouldn't hurt, but it's not precisely needed either, Minister. The Brigade suffered nearly one third casualties, and the Shamans nearly half. Both units should be sent back for resupply and rest. I have already taken it upon myself to order Colonel Potter and his Brotherhood to return to Haven this evening. A message came from Haven saying that Neville Longbottom is close to death. They seem to think that Harry might be able to help."

"And his leg is quickly becoming a liability to him," she added.

Caleb looked at the line of bodies again. "Yes, that's true," he said quietly. "I think he deserves to be with his people, especially if they are at the risk of losing one."

Amelia turned to look at Caleb again. "You're the deputy Minister of Defense. If you feel the two units are best served by coming home, bring them home. I won't question your authority on this matter."

Caleb nodded. "Thank you, Minister. I will see that the movement orders are cut immediately."

He then turned and pulled out a small portable floo and spoke quietly into it.

Amelia walked over to sit on a large rock not far from the row of bodies and tears flowed freely down her cheeks. Victory had come, but not without a high cost.

Hogwarts, Great Hall (1600 hours, April 10th)...

Harry sat on a conjured chair, in front of a conjured desk, going over various reports that Hermione was putting together for him. He had wanted to go check the people on the walls, but she had badgered him into staying nearby. The way his leg was bothering him, he really wasn't interested in walking very much, so he didn't fight her all that hard about staying in the Great Hall.

One of the field medics stepped over to where Harry sat and spoke to him for a moment, drawing Hermione's attention. She thought he was asking the healer for more pain relieving potion, but now she wasn't sure. She'd seen Harry talking to this medic earlier. Surely he couldn't be using the pain relief potions that quickly!

Harry's posture tensed and he levered himself to his feet. His free hand glowed briefly and he whispered an incantation, waving his hand towards his leg then he motioned to the medic.

Hermione walked up to Harry. "Where are you off to?"

"I'm going out to the medical unit they brought in this morning," he said, then he hesitated for a moment. "Here," he said, grabbing her hand.

Harry stared into her eyes. Recognizing that he was trying to commune with her, she relaxed and let him make the connection. A second later, he broke the connection, having passed the experience he had with the young soldier up on the wall.

Hermione blinked a few times while she processed the information, then she looked at Harry doubtfully. "You're going to go see her in the hospital?"

He shook his head. "No... yes, the medic says she's losing her fight. She saved my life Hermione. She shouldn't have to die surrounded by strangers, none of them should," he replied tensely.

Hermione nodded. "I'll go with you."

He smiled and waited while she told her second in command where she'd be. Together, they walked to the entrance.

"What did you do to your leg?" she asked, watching him walk. His limp had changed, become stiffer.

"I used the spell that Poppy taught me to lock the knee, remember?" he replied.

Both fell silent, remembering Poppy Pomfrey. It was hard to believe that it was just over a year ago that she fell victim to the giant attack in Hogsmeade. It seemed like it had happened in another life.

Ten minutes later, Harry and Hermione found themselves directed to a small room in the hospital sent over by Haven.

Harry paused just outside the door and looked Hermione, his expression suddenly horrified. "I don't even know her name," he whispered.

Hermione looked around and spotted a clipboard hanging from a peg next to the door. "The form identifies her as Alison Creevey," she said, then looked up at Harry. "Do you think she's related?"

Harry shrugged and pushed his way into the room. "I don't know," he muttered.

The lights were dimmed and the room contained only one bed. A medi-witch looked up from where she sat, then stood as Harry and Hermione entered.

A small beeping sound made Hermione glance around. She noted the monitors measuring Alison's lung capacity and heart beat. They were the same type of devices that was used on Harry when he was shot. Alison lay with a sheet covering most of her, but from her hip to her shoulder was a closed wound that glared an angry red and seeped blood.

"How is she?" asked Harry of the Medi-witch.

"She's slipping away. Her wounds were too bad for her to be sent back to Haven and we arrived too late to help her. We closed up the wound and gave her something for the pain," replied the witch quietly.

Harry nodded stiffly and moved closer to the bed.

Alison was awake and she smiled, seeing Harry appear above her. The bubble of oxygen around her head muffled her already weak voice.

"Hi Alison," Harry said.

"Boy the girls are going to go spare when I tell them that you visited me in the hospital!" she whispered.

"You need to rest so you can get better," Harry replied. He struggled to maintain his composure. She was one of his people, one of his Brigade and someone that personally saved his life.

She lifted up a hand and he reached for it with his own. "Don't be sad," she told him. "It doesn't hurt."

He wiped away a tear that slid down his cheek. Inwardly, he raged against this young woman's fate. She couldn't be more than five years older than he was!

"I'm afraid," Alison whispered. Her eyes widened and they darted around the room wildly. The heart monitor's rhythm seemed to falter.

Harry bent down, leaning in so he could hear her better. He gripped her hand tighter in his own. "You're not alone. We're here with you," he said to her.

Hermione stepped up behind him. She placed a hand on his shoulder and widened their bond, sending him all the comfort she could. She could feel his anguish.

Alison smiled again, seeing Hermione behind Harry, then her eyes closed. She exhaled a long, rattling breath and went still.

The heart monitor began to shriek. The medi-witch sighed and waved her wand, silencing the alarm.

Harry bent over and kissed Alison on the forehead. "I won't ever forget you, or what you've done this day," he promised her.

A few minutes later, Harry and Hermione walked out of the room. They took their time, stopping and talking to healers and patients before they left the hospital.

Harry glanced up the road towards the castle. He could apparate with Hermione, but his heart just wasn't in it. He knew the walk back would be painful, but he felt he deserved it.

The pair walked back in silence until Harry stopped for a moment to rest his leg. He looked at her and knew she was nearly as moved as he was.

Finally, he broke the silence. "Love, if we ever have a daughter, would you be opposed to using the name of Alison?"

Her smile was like sunlight shining into the darkened places of his soul. He couldn't help but feel a burden being lifted from his shoulders.

"I think that would be a fine tribute, my heart. A very fine tribute," she replied, hugging him tightly.

Ministry of Magic, Haven, Office of the Minister (1630 hours, April 10th)...

Amelia sagged in her chair and breathed a sigh of relief. To say that the day had been physically and emotionally exhausting was the understatement of the century. Considering how tired she felt, she was amazed that the troops they had sent over were still standing.

David, her aide, entered her office, bringing with him a fresh pot of coffee and a tray of sandwiches. A moment later, another aide followed, carrying a large bundle of parchments. David told the girl to put them on the coffee table.

"Mostly messages of congratulations from various nations, Minister. We also have messages from several nations asking that we consider helping them train up a force similar to our Brotherhood Brigade."

Amelia nodded tiredly, eying the large pile with distaste. She would enjoy reading them later, when she didn't feel so old and worn down.

"Anything from Department M, Ireland?"

David shook his head. "No, Minister," he replied, then he glanced at a wall clock. "I don't expect to hear from them until later this evening, if at all."

David turned to the pile and pulled out one piece of parchment, which he handed to her. "I have a request from Lord Potter, asking that you meet with him this evening at Haven Hospital. According to this, he's in need of some legal advice."

Amelia frowned and wondered what Harry was up to this time.

"Alright. I'll meet with him at the hospital, then I'm going to go see Susan and my new grandniece," she replied. "Did he say when?"

"At eighteen hundred hours, in the room they've have the Longbottom's in."

"Anything else?"

David rooted around in the pile. "There is a notice from Fort Ord in America, telling us that they have assembled a group of nearly one thousand volunteers who are willing to return to Britain as soon as possible to begin reconstruction efforts."

Amelia leaned back in her chair and tented her fingers, smiling at the thought. She had been worried about that. Finding the people needed to rebuild and re-ward places like Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade and the old Ministry building had been something she hadn't addressed yet.

"Who's in charge of that group?"

David looked down at the parchment. "Someone by the name of Anastasia Twonk."

Amelia thought for a moment. "Send a message to Ms. Twonk asking her to come to Haven to discuss using her group."

The Ministry currently controlled most of the wizarding access to Britain. Amelia didn't mind people helping, but she wanted it done in a controlled and coordinated manner.

"Yes, Ma'am," David replied, making a note in a small book.

"That will be all for now, David," Amelia said.

He nodded and left Amelia alone with her thoughts.

The Forbidden Forest (1630 hours, April 10th)...

Madison paused and flattened his ears against his head, his posture screaming warning. Jacoby stopped a few paces back and dropped to a crouch, a wand out in one hand and his pistol in the other.

The lynx relaxed a little, letting it's ears raise. They swiveled back and forth for a moment, then he turned to Jacoby and pawed at the ground, giving him a signal that someone was nearby. Someone was talking.

Jacoby pointed upwards and Madison thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. They were still too far away.

Jacoby disillusioned himself and followed Madison as he ghosted closer to the source of the voices.

They approached a small break in the forest slowly. Madison turned and looked unerringly to his invisible partner, then pointed his head up. A moment later, the large cat was scaling a tree that would allow him to get nearly directly above the source of the voice.

The Death Eater must have been one of the stragglers from Hogsmeade. His robe was torn and bloody and one eye was swollen shut. He stood over two women who were barely dressed.

"I finally get me some bitches all to myself," the man chuckled.

He held the two women at wand point. Both were laying face down on the cold ground, tied with the ropes of an Incarcerous spell.

"Now, listen carefully, my ladies," said the Death Eater. "I'm going to untie you both, then we're going to have a little fun before we move off. We'll go south, I think. We'll be able to slip into regular society and hide among the muggles. Imperio! Imperio!"

"You two will do as you're told," hissed the Death Eater.

Madison screamed once and leapt. The Death Eater looked around wildly, but it was too late. The powerful cat landed half on his back and half on his shoulders, digging his two inch claws into his flesh, then he bit the Death Eater in the neck.

"SHIT!" shouted Jacoby, then he dispelled his illusion charm and rushed forward. But it was too late. The Death Eater screamed and whirled causing Madison to be flung off his back. He grabbed at his neck, trying to stem the flow of blood, but it fountained between his fingers.

Madison landed on his feet and whirled to face the Death Eater, snarling at the man. The Death Eater pitched to his knees, bleeding out quickly. Madison had severed his jugular.

Seeing the man crumple, Madison flowed back into his human form. He shrugged off his backpack and pulled out two blankets, which he used to cover the two women.

The Death Eater fell face forward into the dirt, twitching slightly.

"Dammit, Amos! You scared the shit out of me!" screamed Jacoby.

"Sorry, Will, but you saw what he was doing," Amos replied, then he knelt next to one of the women. He cast a finite to remove any lasting effects from the Death Eater's curse, while Jacoby echoed his actions for the other woman.

The two women looked up at the strangely uniformed men in terror. They pulled the blankets around themselves tighter, as if it could protect them.

"I'll phone it in and see what they want us to do," offered Jacoby.

Amos nodded, then rummaged through his pack, pulling out two meal packs, offering them to the women. One of them, a young girl near his own age, was rather pretty, he thought.

She warily accepted the pack.

"You're both going to be okay. We're Americans, part of the force that destroyed Voldemort's army earlier today," Amos said. "My partner is going to arrange for you two to get help."

"You're not a Death Eater?" asked the girl.

Amos shook his head. "No, I'm Amos, from Wisconsin. And that's Will Jacoby, he's from New Jersey," he said, pointing to his partner. Will turned and nodded to both of the women.

"I'm Jennifer and this is Milly," said the girl with a shy smile. It was probably the first time she had smiled in months.

Amos nodded to the two women. "Just rest for now. Everything is going to be fine."

He stood and walked over to Will, who snapped the floo closed and turned to look at him.

"Sergeant James wants us to escort the women back to camp. They're setting up a relief center in the castle. In the meantime, he's sending the Loon and the Pelican out."

Amos chuckled. The Loon and the Pelican were a pair of flying animagi. They were able to cover an incredible area in much less time than a foot patrol, as well as covering areas unreachable by others.

"Alright. Give them... what? Twenty minutes to eat, then we head back?" Amos asked.

"Sounds good to me. I could use something to eat anyway," Jacoby replied, rummaging through his own pack.

London (1700 hours, April 10th)...

By late afternoon, the city of London sounded more like Beruit than it did a major western city. First the city was rocked awake by a series of massive explosions as oil stores and chemical plants were destroyed, courtesy of some overzealous house elves. By mid morning, most of the remaining Londoners had hunkered down as a small arms war seemed to spread throughout the city.

Small resistance groups, sometimes armed with ancient weapons stolen from museums, had taken to attacking British Army forces wherever they could.

The cellular phone system, which had been commandeered by the British Army, collapsed under the onslaught of American jamming aircraft. With their only means of communications now gone, the British Army had to resort to using runners to dispatch orders from command in the Ministry of Defense building and units scattered throughout the city.

The city, however, was no longer safe for people wearing that uniform. Most runners never made it to their assigned destinations and their orders went undelivered.

To add to the confusion, Northern Scotland had gone off the air in the mid afternoon. British Army command knew an invasion was happening somewhere around Inverness, but were powerless to stop it.

The fight that occurred around Diagon Alley reduced the number of wizards in the city to a mere handful, most of whom had thrown away their masks and cloaks and had gone into hiding. The British Army had lost it's controlling elements. Without the brain, the body of the army lashed out and was cut down.

An excitement seemed to sweep through the city. Rumors swept back and forth and people crawled out of their hiding spots, scanning the skies above them as hundreds of NATO and allied aircraft pulverized the remaining air defenses for the city.

At five in the afternoon, the BBC, broadcasting from the continent, interrupted it's programming, announcing that the Prime Minister would be addressing the British nation and the world in a few short moments. At the same time, people looked up in wonder, seeing hundreds of helicopters heading inland from the channel.

Heathrow airport had been hit especially hard, but the runways had been left intact. With attack helicopters providing air cover, elements of the 7th Air cavalry and the 101st Airborne landed and began the difficult job of clearing the airport of combatants and civilians.

Communications with the airport was lost and British Army command, still acting under orders given while controlled by the Imperious curse, dispatched it's last remaining armored force, twelve Challenger tanks and fifteen Saxon armored personnel carriers. The convoy had barely gone a mile from their base before being pounced upon by allied air forces. In less than five minutes, it ceased to exist.

It would be another hour before the airport was declared secure. The US Army didn't mind the fact that dusk was rapidly approaching. Their motto of 'We own the night' was made glaringly obvious to anyone who doubted.

With the airport secured, the airlift began from a dozen airports on the continent. The skies above London all but groaned with the weight of the aircraft flying overhead. There hadn't been that many planes in the skies above the city since the Blitz.

It was the last straw, as many of the remaining British Army troops in the city shucked their uniforms and tried to fade into the civilian population.

Inverness (1700 hours, April 10th)...

The 1st Marine Expeditionary force came ashore not far from Inverness Airport, which was still in the hands of the 3 Scots. They had landed several hours earlier, then paused as armor was ferried ashore aboard the Navy's LCACs.

Driving west, the marines began a movement to cut the city's arterial roadways in the face of very light resistance. Another group, consisting of Navy Seals, Marine Recon and SAS came ashore in North Kessock, cutting the A9 bridge to the north. Inverness was being systematically isolated.

What little radio communications the forces in Inverness had with British Army command further south was being jammed by the US Navy. In a panic, the commander of the Voldemort controlled forces around Inverness apparated to his family home in Sussex. The home was unplottable and would keep him safe for a couple of months until he was caught.

For the people of Inverness, news of the attack came via an unexpected source. US Armed Forces Radio began broadcasting from Task Force 626 nearly an hour ahead of the main invasion force, telling people to stay indoors and not to interfere with Military operations. By the time the first RORO ships pulled up to the docks, the Marines had cut off the A9, the A96 and A82.

People listened to the radio and then did exactly what they were told not to do. They filled the streets, they hung out of windows, the cheered. For the first time in over a year, the British Union Flag hung from window sills or flagpoles.

What little resistance remained in the city was put down by the Marines as they spread out, taking over the city. They tried to be careful, but still civilian casualties climbed.

At the docks, vehicle crews manned their machines, preparing for a dash down A82, splitting the northern part of Scotland off from the south. Each Roll on, Roll off cargo ship unloaded their cargo and pulled out as quickly as they could. Behind them, ships containing medical, engineering and police units waited patiently for their turn to unload.

News spread by radio, television from the continent and even by word of mouth. The country was swept up in a surge of excitement, as what remained of the enemy seemed to stagger and vanish in the face of overwhelming fire power.

The skies above the country were criss crossed with contrails and people looked up with hope, seeing the familiar shapes of RAF and NATO airplanes.

Around the world, people paused in their lives and became glued to their televisions watching a drama unfolding that hadn't been seen since the liberation of Europe in 1945. Media crews, following the spearheads, showed images of burning buildings and crowds screaming in joy. The scene of American and British forces in Hummvees rolling into London brought tears to many an eye.

Reporters at sea, among the various invasion fleets, showed images of Naval Frigates and aircraft pounding ships trying to break the blockade.

The British Ministry in Exile had issued a cautiously optimistic press release via the White House Press Office stating that it appeared that all organized resistance was crumbling faster than anticipated.

Congratulations began to flood into the British Embassy in New York. The Secretary General of the United Nations announced an extraordinary session of the general assembly in order to discuss relief efforts. The Red Cross in the United States announced they were sending nearly ten thousand tons of relief material to airports for shipment to the United Kingdom.

The war was coming to an end. The monumental task of rebuilding and recovery would soon begin.

Haven Hospital (1800 hours, April 10th)...

Harry walked into the room where Ginny and Neville were being kept. He was immediately struck by the scene before him. Ginny lay in one bed, whimpering in pain and clinging to her father. Neville's bed was only a few feet away and, were it not for the monitors, Harry would have thought his friend was already dead.

He hurried over to Ginny. Seeing her like this disturbed him on many levels. He knew that had the dice landed differently, he could have easily fallen for her. Seeing her so devastated upset him. His eyes slide to the tented blanket and he scowled as he stepped up to her bed.

She turned a tear streaked face to him. He reached, grabbing her hand, then he bent down and kissed her forehead.

"You missed quite a fight, Ginny," he said, trying to lighten the mood.

She smiled weakly, but pain and fear were written all over her expression. When she tightened her grip on his hand, Harry looked at her father.

"It's the skele-grow, Harry," he murmured. "The healers thought she'd need to be awake, but they had already started her on the skele-grow."

He nodded and reached under the blanket so he could touch her leg. Everyone except Hermione glared at him for being so forward. He closed his eyes and muttered an incantation in Gaelic. Ginny moaned loudly and she tugged hard on both him and Arthur. She struggled to sit up for a moment, then she gasped and fell back on the bed.

Her eyes flickered down to Harry's hand resting improperly high on her bare leg, then she glanced up at him. He removed his hand quickly and blushed.

"The pain is gone," she whispered. "It's gone," she repeated, a little louder.

"I can't heal it, Ginny, but that spell will give you about eight hours of numbness," Harry replied.

Melinda rushed forward, pushing Harry to one side. She pulled out her wand and ran a few spells before she turned on him. "What did you do?" she demanded to know.

Harry shrugged. "It's an old Celtic spell, one of the unique spells revived by the Brotherhood. We don't have a Brotherhood healer yet, so Eocho taught them to Hermione and myself. I can show it to you another time."

"Perhaps I should be the one touching the girls, Harry," Hermione suggested dryly. "People might get the wrong idea." She nodded toward Bill and Charlie. Both seemed torn between thanking Harry and hitting him.

"You know..." he sent to her.

"Don't you dare say it! I didn't mean it like that," she replied. "Get your mind back on track and out of the gutter. We can both get back in the gutter later."

Harry nodded and turned to look at the pale red head again. "Ginny, let's see if we can help Neville. When we're done, I'm going to see what we can do to fix you up with a new leg."

Melinda blinked and frowned. "Lord Potter, we can't heal that."

Harry glanced at the healer. "I know, Melinda. That specialist I saw in St. Mungo's explained it to me, and then offered to remove my bad leg and fix me up with a fake one. What I have in mind is different, but I'll need to get permission first. That can wait a bit. Neville needs help now."

"Can you help him, Harry?" Ginny asked pleadingly.

"I'm going to try, with your help," he replied. Then he released her hand. "Would everyone, except Hermione, step away from the beds, please?"

The door to the room opened, admitting Narcissa, Luna, Sylvia August and Amelia Bones. Melinda McKinney walked over to the newcomers to explain what Harry had been saying.

Harry gestured and there was a screeching sound as Neville's bed slid across the floor. Those in the room slapped their hands over their ears, trying to block the horrid sound, and Harry glanced around apologetically. The bed came to a stop with barely enough room for Harry to stand between the two.

Ginny looked at Neville in anguish. His face was swollen and pale and his breathing was labored. When Harry took her hand, she looked up at him.

His eyes filled with magic and they burned with an eerie fire, trapping her in his gaze. She couldn't turn away even if she'd wanted to.

For the second time in less than a day, Harry called up his legilimency skills, penetrating Ginny's mind. He deftly slipped past her shields, pausing momentarily to soothe her fears.

"Hermione, I need you."

Hermione started, then she moved up behind Harry. Somehow, she instinctively knew what he was asking for. She wrapped her arms around him. She pulled his shirt from under his belt and slid her hands inside, touching him, grounding him.

"Ginny," he sent via his link.

"Harry?" came a startled reply.

Hermione mentally giggled. "It's getting crowded in here, Harry," she sent.

"Oh, Merlin, is this what you two share?"

"Pretty much," Hermione replied.

"Ginny, I'm going to reach out and try to bring Neville into this link. He's fading because he thinks you're dead. He thinks he has nothing to live for. I am going to try to convince him otherwise. Then, when I'm ready, I'll call you and you can let him know you're alive."

"Alright," Ginny replied nervously.

"Don't be scared, Ginny. We're here with you," Hermione said softly.

Both women felt Harry's presence recede as he pushed them to one side of his mind. He held the connection between himself and Ginny, while Hermione kept their connection open. He needed the connection to Hermione to make sure that he didn't lose himself among all the different minds he'd be touching at the same time.

He picked up Neville's hand and he slipped into his mind, noting the total lack of shields. Unlike Ginny, who's mind was right up at the surface, he had to go slow and very gently. This was totally different than what he had done earlier with Voldemort. With the Dark Lord, he hadn't cared what damage he caused.

He searched for a long time in the region where Neville should be and found nothing. He could go lower, but doing so meant reaching through the autonomic regions and the core, where only the subconscious mind existed. The part that called itself Neville seemed to be missing.

He paused, perplexed. Where is Neville? he thought. It didn't help that Ginny could sense his confusion and was starting to panic. Hermione was trying to keep her calm, but Ginny knew why Harry had stopped looking.

Harry pushed the two gently into a corner of his mind and quickly constructed a nice room for them to wait. The walls insulating him from their chatter. Harry reached for his power, using it to boost his own sensitivity.

"Talk to her, keep her calm. I need her desire to find Neville, but her panic is drowning him out," he sent to Hermione.

He received an impression of surprise from Hermione, then silence as she worked to calm and soothe Ginny.

In the room, everyone gasped when Harry's body burst into light. The light quickly enveloped Hermione, then Ginny. Finally, it slowly traveled to Neville.

Harry reached for Ginny's baser emotions until he found her love and desire for her husband. He used it to boost his own need to find Neville, then he paused to listen very hard.

Suddenly, he felt a falling sensation and everything around him solidified. He was on a featureless gray plain with gray skies. Everywhere he looked, it was the same; gray. Faintly, in the distance, he heard a wailing, haunting cry that tore at him, filling him with a feelings of despair and loneliness. He tilted his head several times until he was able to judge the direction to the sound, then he took off, trotting toward it.

After what seemed like hours, he realized he was finally reaching the source of the awful sound. He was also grateful that in this mind world of Neville's, his leg was normal, otherwise he would have pulled up lame rather quickly.

Harry slowly approached Neville, who knelt on the gray ground, pounding his fists against the unyielding surface.

"GINNNNNNNNYYYYYYY!!!"

Harry winced and shivered involuntary. It suddenly struck him that he'd be in the same state, or even worse, if he ever lost Hermione.

Hermione, sensing his emotional turmoil, widened their link and caressed him, soothing his own fears. He smiled for a moment, then turned his attention back to Neville.

He moved around until he was in front of his friend, then he knelt and grabbed Neville by the shoulders.

Neville shook his head violently, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Neville!" Harry snapped in a hard tone.

Neville stopped and glared at Harry.

"Go away, Harry. Leave me be."

"No. You're going to listen to me, Neville. Look at what you're doing to yourself!"

Neville gestured and Harry suddenly found himself airborne, blasted backwards a good thirty feet.

"GO AWAY!"

Harry climbed to his feet, not knowing that what was happening here, was being echoed in the hospital room. A large purple bruise formed across his shoulder blades.

Harry trotted up to Neville, dodging when he gestured again. When he was close enough, he leaped on his friend, wrestling him to the ground. Neville lashed out, punching Harry several times in the head before Harry got a lock on him, pinning him to the ground.

Everyone in the room, except for Harry, Hermione and Ginny, gasped when Harry's lip split and started to bleed.

Harry sat atop Neville, leaning against him hard. "You're going to listen to me. Then, when I'm done, if you still want to kill yourself, go ahead. But, by Merlin, you're going to hear what I have to say!" he snarled.

Neville flinched back from him. He had seen Harry angry before, but he had never seen him in a towering rage.

Their little tussle, coupled with events of the day, was the final straw for Harry. He let loose the emotional storm he'd been holding back. His eyes flashed with magic and he glared down at his friend.

"Just let me go Harry," Neville whispered.

"Oh, no, you're not doing this, Neville. Ginny is not dead!"

"Harry, please, just let me g... What did you say?" he asked in a whisper.

Harry's anger collapsed like a house of cards and he suddenly felt ashamed that he had allowed his anger to break free.

He slid off of Neville and sat on the cold ground. "She's not dead, mate. She's been hurt, but she's very much alive. You didn't see her when the wall collapsed because we all forgot about the medallion's portkey function."

Neville sat up and stared at him in astonishment.

Harry nodded. "It's the truth. In fact, right now she's in a hospital bed about three feet from yours. But you've got to come back, Nev. She needs you, we all need you. You have to fight."

"Ginny, speak to him," Harry commanded.

Her voice was faint and tremulous, but they both could hear it in the place Neville had created for himself.

"Nev? Please don't leave me alone."

Neville started and looked up at the gray sky. "Ginny?" he sobbed.

"It's time to come home, Neville. However, before I leave completely, I have something to do," Harry said. Then he faded from Neville's world.

Harry's consciousness returned to the hospital room where he stood helping his friends. He straightened and stared down at Neville for a moment.

He released Ginny and Neville's hands, breaking the connection between the two. His aura dimmed until it was barely visible and the room went suddenly cold. The lights in the room dimmed. Harry gestured, causing both Ginny and Neville to glow in the darkened room. With each passing second their aura increased in intensity.

Harry gestured again and a tendril of light seemed to snake out from the both of them, coming together in Harry's hands. He cupped the point where both tendrils met and a single pulse of blindingly bright light escaped from between his fingers. Both Ginny and Neville gasped in their beds, and Neville's heart monitor registered an increased heart rate.

Harry staggered backwards. Were it not for Hermione holding him, he would have fallen. Arthur and Bill jumped to help Hermione, while everyone else was concentrating on the two in the beds.

Ginny turned and looked at Neville, her expression hopeful. The band of light still connected them, and even as their auras started to fade, people in the room could see it growing thicker and stronger.

"He knows I'm here!" exclaimed Ginny, then she burst into tears. "He's coming back. I can feel him."

Harry touched his split lip and looked at his bloody fingers. "He better know it. I don't want to think that was a complete waste of time. He packs a nasty punch," he muttered.

Hermione motioned to Arthur and they pulled Harry into a chair where she could seal his split lip. She had been holding him from behind so she was surprised to see the bruising forming on his face.

"What happened to you?" she exclaimed.

"Neville was... being difficult," Harry replied.

"So you hit him?" she asked in disbelief.

"Hey, he hit me first," Harry replied defensively.

"Men!" Hermione said in an exasperated tone, rolling her eyes.

Healer August walked over to him, whispering charms to reduce the swelling around his eye and cheek.

"His heart rate is steadily improving. So is his respiration," Melinda said quietly.

"I can't recall ever seeing a healing that was so... energetic," Sylvia told Harry dryly.

He grinned, then winced. The swelling might be going down, but he still hurt.

"You connected their auras?" Sylvia asked.

Harry nodded. "I bonded them using their auras. It was the only way to really prove to Neville that Ginny was alive," he replied wearily.

"Is it permanent?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. But even if it is, they're married and bonded in a way already. It's not the same bond that Hermione and I share, or like the one Draco and Luna have."

"No, it isn't," Luna said in agreement. "Draco and I share a unique bond. Harry and Hermione share one of the mind, their souls have touched in a different way than ours. What Harry has done here is different again. This is a bond of magic. He's joined them together using their auras, which stems from their magic and the light from their souls."

Arthur frowned. "Fine, but once they're better, they can break it, can't they?"

He didn't like the idea of his daughter being that closely connected to someone, even if it were her own husband. Bondings, with few exceptions, like Luna's bond magic, or a soul bonding, were normally used to control someone.

Harry shrugged. "Probably, but I doubt they'll want to. My bond to Hermione wasn't by my choice, but I wouldn't trade it for anything. Even if all the bond does is provide them with a sense of wellbeing for the other, they'll find it useful and comforting. I can't imagine life without my connection to Hermione. I wouldn't want to, at this point."

Hermione blushed and lowered her gaze. The bonding had been an accident on her part. They had never really discussed how it came to be. Harry had accepted it and let it go, although he had been inordinately curious about some of its features. She smiled to herself, remembering his interest when he discovered he could feel what she felt. That particular discovery had led to several hours of mutually enjoyable exploration on their part.

"While this is all very interesting, I'm sure this isn't why you asked Healer August and I to be here tonight," asked Amelia.

Harry shook his head. "No, it isn't. I need you here before we can help Ginny. Dobby!"

Dobby appeared a moment later with a small pop. "Yes, Harry Potter sir?"

Harry smiled at his little friend. "Would you bring me my pensieve please, Dobby?"

Dobby nodded and vanished again while Harry stood up and walked over to Ginny's bed. She had most of her concentration on Neville and the fact that she could now sense him.

"Ever since we got the message today of how bad Ginny was hurt, I have been upset by it," he said softly. Ginny turned and looked up at Harry, wondering what he was talking about.

"Ginny was hurt and neither magical nor muggle healing can make it any easier on her. Alastor Moody lived the last twenty years of his life with a wooden leg. But I just can't wrap my mind around letting that happen to her. She's my sister..."

"Harry, there's little we can do about it," Healer August said softly.

Ginny lay back and closed her eyes, allowing the tears to slide down the side of her head. She had briefly forgotten about her problem, having pushed it aside in her worry about Neville.

Harry turned to look at Sylvia. "You're wrong," he hissed angrily.

Dobby appeared with a pop, holding the empty pensieve up to Harry.

"But, Harry..."

He held up a hand, then took the stone bowl from the elf. "Thank you, Dobby," he said quietly.

He carefully positioned himself to lean against Ginny's bed, then he gestured, shrinking down his staff to wand size. Using the shrunken staff, he extracted a memory and placed it into the bowl.

"We, that is, Hermione and the others, have often discussed about how there is no dark magic and no light magic, there is only magic and intent. The lightest of spells can be used to kill and the darkest killing curse could be considered a mercy to someone terminally ill.

"What I am going to show you is a spell I know I can do and Hermione knows it, as well. I'm sure that most of the healers can probably do it, given a little training. The problem stems from the person you will be seeing perform the spell. I know for a fact this spell was not always considered a dark spell."

"What memory is this, Harry?" asked Amelia.

Harry sighed. "It's a small fragment of my encounter with Voldemort during the last task of the Triwizard Tournament. It shows Voldemort casting a spell on Peter Pettigrew and it's the reason why I asked you here, Amelia. You need to make a ruling, is this spell dark or not? Or just very old and forgotten, except by a master wizard like Voldemort?"

Healer August and Melinda looked extremely interested, but Amelia frowned.

"Are you saying you can regrow a limb?" asked Melinda incredulously.

Harry shook his head. "No, not regrow, but replace what has been lost with a fully functional limb. The limb will work like normal, once she learns how to use it."

"I don't see how a spell that can do that would be considered evil," Melinda said softly.

"Voldemort was a master at corrupting everything that was good and pure, Melinda," Arthur said, then he turned to Amelia. It was really her call, as Minister. "Amelia..."

Amelia held up her hand. "I'm sorry, Arthur, but I need to see this memory before I can make a ruling. I know exactly what you want, but I can't give it to you without seeing it for myself. Harry's right, in asking me to make a ruling, I just wish it had been under less personal circumstances."

Ginny watched the conversation, her eyes growing very wide. Harry turned back and smiled, reassuringly at her.

"I don't like this," she whispered. "It's bad enough that I'm now a freak."

Harry's expression turned to stone. "Stop that," he snapped.

Ginny blinked and stared up at him almost as if he had slapped her.

"You are not a freak, not now, not ever. You are a beautiful woman who has been hurt. We're going to try to fix your injury the best we can, but I don't want to hear you talking like that. Not ever, Ginny," Harry said, then his voice dropped to an intense whisper that only Ginny and Hermione could hear. "Believe me, I know what being a freak is all about, and you are no freak."

Hermione frowned at his comment, but a hospital room full of people was no place to be dealing with it. "What now, Harry?" she asked.

He ran a hand through his hair. "I suppose Amelia and Sylvia should view the memory. I'll run it in display mode for everyone to see, then let them enter the memory so they can see it up close."

That caught everyone's attention. Amelia nodded reluctantly, so Harry limped over to the table at the end of the bed and put the pensieve down. He touched two runes and a still image appeared above the pensieve, quickly expanding in size.

Harry reached for the rune to activate the playback, but Amelia stopped him. "What are we looking at, Harry?"

"This is the graveyard at Little Hangleton. If I'd begun the memory a few minutes earlier, you would have seen Pettigrew kill Cedric Diggory and Voldemort's rebirth. They used a ritual that required a number of ingredients, including my blood, forcibly taken," Harry said, his voice emotionless. He couldn't help but shiver, remembering the terror he felt that night.

Hermione turned to stare at him. She could feel his remembered terror and it seemed to be coming close to forcing him into a flashback of some sort. She stepped up behind him and wrapped her arms around him again. He leaned back into her embrace and took a few calming breaths, while he fought against the rising panic.

Amelia looked at him in surprise, seeing him struggling with the emotions caused by that terrifying night. A moment later, he relaxed, still leaning against Hermione, drawing strength from her.

"What you see is, or was, his inner circle at the time. Most of them were all from the first war. Malfoy, Dolohov, Avery, Nott and so on. Part of the ritual included Pettigrew cutting off his own hand to add to the potion. What you'll see is Voldemort replacing the hand. That's all I've included in this memory. It's not a good memory for me and if I didn't think it was so important for Ginny, I wouldn't show it you now."

Arthur stepped up to Harry. "Thank you," he murmured.

Harry nodded at the man, then looked around before turning to Amelia. Seeing her nod, he touched the rune to play back the memory.

"Yes, Master," moaned Wormtail, "please, Master... please..."

"Yet you helped return me to my body," said Voldemort coolly, watching Wormtail sob on the ground. "Worthless and traitorous as you are, you helped me... and Lord Voldemort rewards his helpers..."

Voldemort raised his wand again and whirled it through the air. A streak of what looked like molten silver hung shining in the wand's wake. Momentarily shapeless, it writhed and then formed itself into a gleaming replica of a human hand, bright as moonlight, which soared downward and fixed itself upon Wormtail's bleeding wrist.

Wormtail's sobbing stopped abruptly. His breathing harsh and ragged, he raised his head and stared in disbelief at the silver hand now attached to his arm as though he were wearing a dazzling glove. He flexed his fingers, then trembling, picked up a small twig on the ground and crushed it into powder.

"My Lord," he whispered. "Master... it is beautiful... thank you... thank you..."

Harry pressed a rune on the bowl, halting the playback, then he pressed another, rewinding the recording to the starting point.

"I'll invite Amelia, Sylvia and Melinda to enter the memory..."

"No, not Healer McKinney," Amelia said, interrupting him.

"You can't be serious!" protested Sylvia August. "Just because someone evil used the spell, that doesn't make it evil. He gave that man a working hand!"

Amelia turned on Harry. "What's involved in this? Voldemort did a silent casting, so you had to look this spell up!"

"I did," Harry said with a nod. "It's on the proscribed list of spells because someone could cast it on a person that doesn't need a limb replacement, effectively crippling that person. It was declared illegal, over the protests of the Healers at St. Mungo's, nearly two hundred years ago because someone used it in a duel. I stumbled upon it in my family grimoire."

"But that would mean it was invented by a Potter!" exclaimed Melinda.

Harry smiled at her. "Yes, about six hundred years ago. She was a healer, too."

Amelia's expression fell and she stared at Harry.

Harry decided to press his case home with one final thrust. "Healer August, since this morning, how many amputations has the hospital been forced to perform?"

Amelia winced.

"Over one hundred, my Lord," Sylvia said quietly. She was savvy enough to recognize Harry was embattled in a political fight with Amelia, and her hospital and patients would be the real winners if he convinced her.

Amelia glanced down at Ginny, her eyes fixed on tented blanket protecting her stump and she shivered slightly.

"Oh, all right!" she snapped. "I suppose if I didn't allow it, you would have gone ahead and done something anyway."

Harry blinked in surprise, then he shrugged. "Actually, no. I would have suggested that Arthur and Neville send her to America. They have a similar spell, but not quite as good. The limb needs to be replaced every five years with their spell. This is permanent."

"One of these days we're going to sit down and have a long talk about what you can and can't do, Harry," Amelia said.

Hermione stepped forward, laying a hand on Harry's arm. "I don't think you have to worry about that, Amelia. With the war over and no Wizengamot to worry about, I think our days in politics are coming to an end, at least for now."

Amelia looked at the pair in shock, but Harry nodded at her, agreeing with Hermione.

"So, what now? Will you cast the spell then show us how to do it, Harry?" asked Sylvia.

Harry shared a glance with Hermione, then turned to the chief healer. "How is your occlumency?"

Sylvia looked at Harry as if he'd grown a third arm. "It's there. I'm no master of the art, but I have basic shields. Every healer develops them so we can understand how they affect the mind."

"Excellent. I'll let Hermione show you how it's done," Harry replied, then he stood and limped badly over to a chair next to Arthur.

Both Healers watched Harry with identical frowns as he walked. Melinda followed him and knelt next to his leg, while Hermione walked over to Sylvia to teach her the spell.

Melinda rolled up Harry's pants leg and frowned at the sight. The calf was purple from bruising and the muscle was cramped into a hard knot. "I don't like the look of this. I'll be back with a pain relief potion and something to relax the muscle tension."

Harry nodded absently. He was used to ignoring the pain. His attention was fixed on Hermione, who was transferring the knowledge of the spell to Sylvia, via communing. When Hermione finally stepped back, Sylvia smiled. The spell had several modes and multiple applications, and it was easy enough that a modestly powerful witch or wizard could perform it.

"Hermione probably gave you all the information, Sylvia, but tomorrow morning I'll send over a house elf with copies of what I have from my family grimoire," Harry offered.

Sylvia nodded absently. "It is pretty easy once you understand it, but it would be nice to have written documentation so it can be taught to the other healers. Tell me, does your grimoire contain other healing spells?"

"Ask Hermione. She's read it pretty thoroughly. I read it for the family information, but she went through all the spells," he replied, then his attention was drawn to Melinda, who had re-entered the room holding several potion vials.

Sylvia turned to Hermione with an arched eyebrow.

"There are a couple, if I recall correctly, including what looks like a spell to restart a heart," Hermione said. "The problem is, that spell seems to be very similar to the Cruciatus."

Sylvia nodded. "Yes, that was it's original intent when it was first developed, but we found it too powerful and too dangerous."

"I can have the relevant sections copied out for you to look at if you want," Hermione offered. By tradition, only family members were allowed to handle a grimoire. Normally, a family grimoire contained spells that only the family knew. But the Potters had a long tradition of sharing spells, especially those involving healing.

"Please," Sylvia replied, then she stepped up to Ginny's bed.

Ginny had been watching silently for a while without commenting. She appeared to be overwhelmed by what had happened today.

Sylvia smiled at her. "Let's give you a leg to walk on, shall we?"

"Will it be that ugly silver thing?" Ginny asked.

Sylvia frowned. "Mrs. Longbottom, if we don't do this spell before your leg heals, we won't be able to do it at all. The leg I'm going to give you will be better than anything we could have done for you before Harry's involvement in your case. It will feel and work like a real leg. The only thing that will be different is that you'll never have to shave that leg again. As to it's appearance, you are a witch aren't you? Can't you spell it to look real?"

"But it won't be real," she protested.

"No, it won't. But don't you think your husband wants you alive, on two legs, even if one of them is made from magic? He needs you so badly that just the thought of you being dead was enough to nearly kill him."

Ginny's eyes widened and she turned to Neville. "Nev?" she said in a whisper.

Neville opened his eyes and smiled at her. He nodded as his eyes slipped closed again.

Ginny's expression grew determined. "Alright, do it," she told the healer.

Sylvia smiled and closed the curtains around the bed to give them some privacy.

Melinda stood over Harry for a moment, then motioned to Hermione to join them. "If I had an open bed, you'd be in one right now, Harry," she said in annoyance. "You're exhausted, your magical core is depleted and your leg is a mess!"

She handed Hermione two vials. "These are single dose dreamless sleep potions, good for at least eight hours. I want you to get him home, then both of you are to take these."

Hermione took the two vials gratefully from Melinda. "Don't worry. Once we get home, we'll go straight to bed."

Padfoot Manor (1930 hours, April 10th)...

Harry and Hermione arrived back in the grand foyer, having been away for just over a day. Harry leaned against Hermione and she had one arm around him, giving him support. Dan and Emma waited for them to arrive. Luna had returned earlier and warned the others that they'd be coming home. Remus and Tonks had returned to the manor nearly an hour ago and had given them many of the details of their day.

Emma gasped out a startled oath and rushed to embrace Hermione, while Dan grabbed Harry, keeping him steady.

The Grangers tried to steer the pair into the sitting room, but Hermione stopped them.

"I know you two want to talk, but if we're going to do this, could we do it from our bedroom?" she asked.

Emma's expression softened and she looked keenly at her daughter and son-in-law. Both appeared to be exhausted. Making up her mind, she turned to Dan. "Dan, help Harry up to their bedroom. I'll get the elves to prepare a light dinner for all of us."

Not long afterwards, the Potters found themselves dining with the Grangers, who were doing their best to keep the conversation light.

"And then Susan tried to convince us she wasn't in labor, despite her water breaking," Emma said with a slight chuckle.

Harry peered at her for a moment, trying to wrap his head around the idea that a new person was now living in the manor.

"We'll go see Susan and the baby tomorrow," Hermione said softly. She, too, was interested and wanted to meet little Siomha, but the day's toll was weighing heavily on her.

"Is Neville going to be alright? And Ginny?" asked Emma finally.

"I hope so," Harry replied. "I think Neville will be fine. Ginny I'm not so sure about yet. She's going to need a lot of help, I think... I don't know. I'm too tired to think right now."

Dan and Emma exchanged a look then they both stood. "I think you two should head off to bed," Dan suggested.

Hermione pulled two potion vials out of a pocket. "Yes, Healer McKinney gave us those same orders."

Satisfied, Dan and Emma excused themselves from the room. Harry and Hermione quickly shed their clothes and made their way to the bed.

"I wanted to make love with you, but I'm too tired," Hermione said grumpily.

"Tomorrow, love. Right now, I want to take one of those doses and sleep with you in my arms," Harry replied. "Tomorrow we can spend all day making love, if you want."

She smiled at him. "Well, we both know we can't do that, but perhaps when we wake up?"

He nodded and crawled under the blanket. Then he plucked his dose from her hand and downed it in a single go. "They've got to make these things taste better," he murmured.

Hermione drank her own and snuggled into his shoulder. "Uh huh."

Their breathing deepened and the room fell silent.

With a small pop, two elves appeared. They looked fondly at their humans, then picked up the clothing they had dropped on the floor. Winky placed all the clothes in a basket and disappeared.

Dobby pulled the blankets up around Harry and Hermione and banked the fire. He gestured and the candles went out, except the one Harry insisted be left burning. With one last glance around, he nodded in satisfaction and popped away.

Authors Notes:

"Watcha doing?" asked Alyx.

"I'm waiting for my donuts to arrive," Bob replied, staring at the mail box.

"You can't eat donuts anymore!" she shouted at him.

"Oh bugger!"

"Here, have a rice cake," she offered sweetly.

Bob glared at her and she burst into flames. Then Hermione stepped into the room wearing a thong and carrying a box of chocolate crème filled donuts.

Suddenly he blinked as his head smashed into his monitor. He looked up to see Alyx standing over him. "You're day dreaming again!"

"Oh bugger!" he muttered. "I might as well get the authors notes done then."

This completes the battle arc of the story. Some parts were incredibly difficult for us to write, others were pretty easy. For those interested in knowing, the final battle alone, consumed just over fifty thousand words.

Kelvin: Yes an outhouse is an outdoor toilet. The camp was named by the Americans because of (a) how the camp looked, and (b) we Americans enjoy potty humor.

Badge-Dude: Short chapter? Really, nice to know you think so. As to the Iron Wand Tong and the Blood Jihad, they were part of the Death Eater forces under Voldemort. We didn't see any reason to treat them separately.

Srikanth: BUT!!!!! WE!!!! LOVE!!!! EXCLAIMATIONS!!!!

Chem Prof: We have faith in you producing a riveting final battle. Work to your strengths, have Hermione throw acid or something at him. (Just kidding!) And for those who don't know, we recommend Chem Prof's story, Hermione's Plan over on Fanfiction.net. It's worth checking out.

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/3290886/1/

Heart_bloodline: You're welcome.

Quizer: If you recall, Voldemort wanted to make Harry suffer. But his Cruciatus curse was too bloody powerful, it would have put Harry beyond any suffering and straight into insanity. That's why he used a weakened version of the curse. It was still incredibly painful for poor Harry. But it wouldn't drive him loony in the first second like it did to Mulciber's wife.

Teganii: I don't understand it either. But here's what you can do. Don't buy book seven. Instead, print out Sunrise and Sunset and hand it to your kids. Tell them it's a different vision of the same character and probably more fun than what JKR had in mind anyway.

Apr911: Yes, we are considering other projects after this. Plus we have a couple shorts we'll be able to post, like Potter's Revenge. I highlight this so that others, who have asked the same question will see it and stop worrying.

MarinePotterFan: You of all people should understand that defending from a fortified position is something preferred. Yes, we used walls in both Sunrise and Spiritus Crystalus, but that's because from a defensive standpoint, walls make sense and castles are supposed to have walls.

Tim: What the real Prince Charles says he intends to do and what ours does are two different things. Our King Charles doesn't have ears that can be used as aircraft wings either. We did know that, but Charles announced that long after our timeframe of 1996-1997.

For those that thought Susan's labor went too fast we have only this to say... NANA NANA BOO BOO... no, seriously. She started labor the night before, after dinner and didn't know it. My first wife had three hours hard labor before the birth of my first son. Labor takes what labor takes and not every woman goes through forty two years of labor while walking uphill in a snowstorm, bare footed and wearing only a thong.

A lot of people have pointed out that we have thing about injuries to the legs. Yeah, we sort of screwed up with Ginny's injury, but to be honest I didn't want to kill her. I also needed her injury in the leg to emphasize a point that people keep throwing back at us. Why can't we heal Harry's leg? Hopefully this chapter puts that question to bed once and for all time.

Freakyfinger: You will not see Fawkes return to this story. He left Dumbledore and Harry's aura is too gray for it to be acceptable to Fawkes. Besides, Harry having a phoenix is too clichÃ© at this point. No, no Fawkes for Harry. Sorry. Maybe we can give him a Snorkack pup?

Fanofdrows: Not being Swedish we'll have to take your word for it. Frankly we're becoming leery of using other languages for spells anymore. We've had people correct our French, (Pardon our French), our German, Swedish and someone named Markus Aurelius threatened to invade if we didn't fix our Latin. I'd try Klingon next, but I'd hate to upset them! Now as to Hermione's Swedish, well she put that spell together on the fly and she couldn't tell a Swedish Meatball from the Swedish Chef, so I think we'll let her slide this once. BORK BORK BORK!

Shadowtrey: Yes, the Dark Wanker is truly dead. As to what hit Harry? Keep reading.

Back to:: Harry Potter » Sunrise Over Britain

Sunrise Over Britain
Chapter 31 - A New Day

By Bobmin

Sunrise Over Britain Chapter 31 - A New Day

By Bobmin

Sunrise Over Britain
Chapter 31 - A New Day