All For You - Epilogue
Epilogue
“I urge each of you to read through the comprehensive report I have submitted, and you will be left in no doubt to the truth I have spoken today. This body is held in high esteem, and because of a mere handful of representatives, our motives, our integrity, and our reputation have been put in a perilous position,” Albus said passionately. “We must pave the way to redemption, and to do that, we must reiterate our commitment to justice, fairness, and togetherness.”
The mood withing the chambers of the ICW was a sombre one.
Most were unaware or chose to remain ignorant of what had been done by some of the prominent members, and others were visibly disgusted by what they had learned.
It was the representative of Japan who stood first to address him.
“I thank you for your diligence, Supreme Mugwump,” he offered with a respectful bow. “I support your intention for the countries involved to pay for the damage caused in Great Britain for their part in what transpired. It is right and it is just. I would also recommend a probationary period for each country, but I do not believe further sanctions will be required, unless, of course, the extent of wrongdoing is further established.”
“I agree,” the representative of Canada concurred. “I am appalled by what I have learned, but I do not wish to see the matter dragged on unnecessarily. I would see it remedied quickly so that we may once again stand together for a common cause.”
Albus nodded his understanding.
“It is not my intention to see the unpleasantness continue,” he assured his colleague. “I only seek what is fair in the matter and nothing else.”
“Then I have no objections,” the German representative spoke up.
Herr Porter was not often vocal during the meetings.
After what had happened only a couple of decades prior, Germany was still looked upon with mistrust by many.
“My own country has paid the penance for their part in an unjust war, and others should follow. What say you, gentlemen?” he asked the newly appointed representatives from each country.
A little over a fortnight had passed since what had occurred in Godric’s Hollow.
Both Sousa and Visser were now on the run and being hunted by the Hit-wizards, and a certain man had assured Albus that he would personally be seeing to Sebastien Laurent.
Albus had yet to mention the status of the man, and had no intention of doing so until the Serpent brought him in.
“We agree,” Monsieur Alois answered. “We will meet and discuss it amongst ourselves before reaching out to Minister Bagnold with a plan of settlement.”
“Your urgency is most appreciated and apt,” Albus responded.
The men returned to their seats and Albus followed suit, confident that although it was not truly the end of the matter, the ICW would survive the scandal and continue to thrive as it had since its establishment some three centuries prior.
(Break)
Alastor blinked before rubbing where his eye used to be.
For the past two weeks since the battle, his wound had been deeply uncomfortable at best, and during the worst moments, the sheer agony of it had reduced him to tears of pain and frustration.
Try as they might, the Healers had been unable to identify the curse that had caused the damage, but now, there finally seemed to be a breakthrough.
“How does it feel?” Jameson asked.
Alastor breathed a sigh of relief as he leaned back onto his pillow, his body relaxing for the first time in what felt to be forever.
“Better,” he murmured tiredly.
He heard Jameson chuckle and then Alastor knew no more.
When he did wake, it was still light and he groaned tiredly.
“How long did I manage?” he huffed.
“The better part of sixteen hours,” Jameson answered amusedly.
Alastor frowned at the man.
“You were here for sixteen hours?”
“No,” Jameson snorted. “I’ve got better things to do than watch you sleeping, you git.”
Alastor laughed for the first time since he’d been wounded. It felt foreign to do so, but seeing as he could, he took it as a good sign.
Every other visitor that had been to see him had been coddling him with sympathy, doing their best to lift his spirits, but ultimately failing.
Jameson had taken one look at him, spoken to the Healers, and simply promised he would find a way to fix him.
He had, and according to Amelia, he’d done little else other than deal with the aftermath of the battle.
Alastor didn’t know the ins and outs of his affair, but he suspected there had been much to attend to, and yet, the man had made time to help with his ailment.
“What was the curse?” he asked curiously.
“It was a mixture of a gouging and rupturing curse,” Jameson explained. “A nasty one, and you should be grateful it only hit your eye. If you took it in the guts…”
Alastor winced at the thought.
“Stop winding him up, Harry,” Amelia sighed.
“I didn’t know you were here, Bones,” Alastor grumbled, turning to look at the redhead.
“Because she was on your blindside you bloody duffer,” Jameson goaded. “Anyway, before you get your knickers in a twist, I have a surprise for you.”
“A surprise?” Alastor asked suspiciously. “What surprise?”
“Well, if you’re going to have that attitude, I might just give it to someone else,” Jameson grumbled.
“Just give it to him, Harry,” Amelia said, fighting the urge to grin amusedly at her fiancé.
“Fine,” Harry sighed, “but you’ll be sorry for being an ungrateful sod. Here.”
He handed Alastor an ornate wooden box and he eyed it for a moment before lifting the lid.
Staring back at him was an eye, not so dissimilar to the one he’d lost, but it wouldn’t fool anyone into believing it was real.
“You got me an eye?”
Alastor was indeed surprised.
The loss of an eye was all but an end to his career and the Ministry would not cover the cost of anything beyond aesthetic purposes.
Besides, it wasn’t as though he could be given his sight back.
Magic had its limitations after all.
“Just put it in your head,” Jameson urged.
It took a few moments to do so, and it was an odd feeling, but what struck Alastor more was that he wasn’t entirely blind.
He couldn’t be certain what he was seeing through the prosthetic, but it wasn’t the nothingness he had grown accustomed to.
“Is it working?” Jameson pressed excitedly.
“What am I supposed to be seeing?”
“Magic,” Jameson answered. “The eye is able to convey images of magic to your brain. Personally, I think I did a good job on it.”
“Magic?” Alastor whispered as he looked around the room.
Knowing what he was seeing made it easier to understand, and he took in every detail of the room. The mundane things that he knew were there weren’t visible to him, but the various potions in his bedside table, and even the outlines of Jameson and Amelia were.
“I can see you both,” he whispered. “Not the same way, but I can see you.”
It was indeed strange to see normally from one eye and magically from another, and the strain of doing so was beginning to give him a headache.
“It will take some getting used to,” Jameson warned. “The headaches will become less frequent, but it is better than nothing.”
Alastor swallowed deeply, fighting back the emotion as he nodded.
“Thank you, lad,” he offered wholeheartedly. “I don’t know how I will ever repay you…”
“There’s no need,” Jameson said dismissively. “You’ve bled for me, and you’ve been there for Amelia. You owe me nothing, Alastor.”
The Auror nodded and found himself overwhelmed by the gesture and words.
“Besides,” Jameson continued as he stood, “we can’t have your mug frightening the other wedding guests. It’s not bloody Halloween themed.”
He left and Alastor shook his head.
“You can shut up,” he grumbled at Amelia.
“I didn’t say anything,” the woman protested.
“You wanted to laugh.”
“I did not.”
“I’m bloody blind this side, not deaf!”
Amelia offered him a look of sympathy.
“I’m sorry, Moody, but it’s just nice to see you smiling again.”
“Aye, and you, lass,” Alastor sighed.
Jameson too seemed somehow lighter since he’d killed Riddle.
He’d always been the first to crack a joke or pull a prank of sorts, but there was an intensity and darkness to him that seemed to have been extinguished somewhat.
He was relaxed, probably for the first time in many years, and Alastor could think of two others who deserved it more than Harry and Amelia.
(Break)
Having done all he could to leave his life behind, Sebastien had hoped that he would be forgotten, but with the news that had been reaching him throughout the past week, he expected that he would be found sooner rather than later.
Abernathy was undoubtedly dead, and Sebastien could not comprehend what Berg had been thinking when he’d aligned himself with Voldemort in a bid to defeat Jameson and the Serpent.
It was a fool’s errand and the foolish man had paid the ultimate price.
What had occurred in Britain had been well documented, particularly the scandal it brought upon the ICW.
Britain had always been in good standing.
Their men had ventured to the continent to fight Grindelwald when they could’ve simply locked the country down, and now, they had ridden the ICW of its corruption.
It was something that wouldn’t be forgotten, and of course, Jameson found himself in particularly high standing.
It had been well reported that he’d been the one to kill Berg and that he and the Serpent had remained behind whilst the others had withdrawn where they had killed Voldemort.
The precise details of what they’d done remained a mystery to all but the two men, but it had been them to leave the battlefield victorious.
For Sebastien, it made life all the more unpleasant.
Each day that passed was spent peering out of his window, waiting until what seemed to be inevitable.
They would come for him, and there didn’t seem to be anywhere on earth he could hide.
In a bid to keep her alive, he’d sent Manon away, and she’d reluctantly left to a place he didn’t know.
With all that had happened, it was for the best.
She was not entirely innocent of all that he had been a part of over the past three decades, but Sebastien would not see her punished for his misdeeds.
He was not keen t meet his maker, but the permanent state of paranoia and fear was grating on him, and he simply wished for it all to be over.
Almost as though a higher power had felt his plea, the protections around his villa collapsed and were immediately replaced with new ones out of his control.
In truth, Sebastien was relieved that he had been found.
He certainly did not wish to live a perpetual existence of what he had been since he’d fled France, but it irked him how casually Evans ambled up the pathway to his home.
It was so casual and it felt as though the entire affair meant very little to the man.
“Alright, Laurent, let’s not have any bloody dramatics. It took me long enough to find you, so just open the door.”
Sebastien complied and Evans offered him a respectful nod.
“I didn’t expect you to make it so easy,” he commented. “Give me your wand. We don’t want any moments of madness. I will only make sure it is more painful than it needs to be for you.”
Sebastien eyed the man for a moment before releasing a deep breath and surrendering his wand.
There was no point in delaying the inevitable.
It wasn’t as though he stood a chance in a fight with the infamous Serpent.
“Good,” Evans declared. “Now, take a seat. I have some questions for you, and then you are going to provide me with all the other information I want.”
“And then you’ll kill me?”
‘I will, but how you die depends on you. I can make it quick, painless, and allow you to keep your dignity. The alternative is not what you want to experience. It will be painful, miserable, and more degrading than you can imagine. I hope you understand that I am doing you a kindness, but only because it will be easier for us both if you cooperate.”
“Is there any point in being defiant?”
“None whatsoever,” Evans snorted.
“Then why waste both of our times,” Sebastien sighed. “I only have one condition.”
“You’re in no position to name them.”
“I know,” Sebastien accepted, “but it is one I hope you will be able to relate to. You have me and the others are either dead or will be caught. I only ask that you leave Manon out of this.”
Evans seemed to ponder it for a moment before nodding.
“You have my word that she will be left alone. The world will think she is dead, but it is in her best interest to remain hidden. If she does not then my word will be retracted.”
“Thank you,” Sebastien said gratefully. “I suppose you will want my copy of the correspondences?”
“That will be a good start.”
Sebastien removed the shrunken trunk from his pocket and handed it to Evans.
“Everything is there,” he assured the man, “even a key to the codes.”
Evans nodded appreciatively.
“Well, then let us get to it,” he decided. “The first thing I want to know, and I urge you not to lie to me, Laurent, is what happened to the former Lord and Lady Bones?”
“Bones?” Sebastien asked with a frown. “Ah, I remember. It was a rather unfortunate incident, and one we tried to avoid, but ultimately did not…”
(Break)
One Month Later
“You know, for someone who’d just been awarded an Order of Merlin, First Class, I would’ve thought you’d be in a better mood,” Bellatrix commented.
Harry snorted derisively as he shook his head.
“It will only make people bother me more,” he pointed out.
It was ironic.
He’d arrived here with the intention of drawing no attention to himself, and yet, Harry was now as famous as he’d ever been during his previous life.
With what happening in Godric’s Hollow still shrouded by mystery, it only made him more curious to those he passed on the streets of wizarding Britain.
In the weeks that followed the inevitable death of Tom Riddle, Harry had been inundated with requests for interviews, he’d been hounded in public, and some of the keener journalists had set up camp outside the gates of Hogwarts in the hopes of catching a word from him, or to even get a recent photo.
It had grown tiresome rather quickly, but it had somewhat calmed until the letter from Millicent Bagnold and Dumbledore had arrived announcing his honour.
It didn’t help that every media outlet in the country had published the news, and when he’d arrived at the Ministry of Magic that very morning, Harry had barely been able to move for the crowd that had filled the atrium.
He was humbled by receiving the award, and he wouldn’t pretend that it didn’t mean anything to him.
Perhaps somewhere his parents were looking over him with pride at all he had done.
At the very least, Amelia was proud of him.
“You earned it, Harry. If it wasn’t for you, we both know how bleak the world would be looking right now. You stepped up, you fought, and you won, again. You’ve more than earned the gratitude of the people.”
He’d never had any intention of doing so.
His second war with Voldemort had come about because of his penchant for getting into trouble, and his delving into what had happened to Amelia’s parents.
He had stepped up and fought, but he couldn’t profess that he’d done it for the people.
Harry had fought so hard for the truth for Amelia, and everything else had just happened around that.
“Fame really doesn’t suit you, does it?” Bellatrix asked amusedly.
“It doesn’t.”
“Well, there is the wedding to look forward to.”
That did bring a smile to his lips.
All of it; the war with Riddle, the destruction of the corrupt members of the ICW, and everything else in between seemed to have led to what would be happening tomorrow.
As with all of those things, Harry had not expected to fall in love. In truth, he’d long ago decided that he would spend his life alone, though that was until he’d met Amelia.
“It’s strange how much things can change,” he mused aloud.
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing,” Harry said dismissively. “Go on, get yourself home. It’s late.”
It was close to midnight.
They’d spent most of the evening grading mock OWL and NEWT exams for the fifth and seventh years, a skill Bellatrix would need if she was to one day succeed him.
Harry didn’t know how long he would remain teaching at Hogwarts, but he’d already decided he wanted the young woman to replace him when the time was right.
If that was her wish.
Until then, he knew she still had ambitions on the duelling circuit, among other things she wanted to do with hr life, but when he was ready, and she’d done what she pleased, she would succeed him.
“It is,” Bellatrix said tiredly as she stood and stretched. “I will be at my grandparents when you come to collect them in the morning.”
“I will see you then,” Harry assured her with a smile.
She left and he finished marking the paper he was working on before his gaze drifted towards the clock.
Amelia was working a double-shift, so she wouldn’t be home for several hours, which gave Harry the perfect to truly finish what he’d started.
Gathering his things, he too left the castle, returning to the same building he’d been invited to that very morning, though this time, Harry knew he wouldn’t be welcome if he was caught where he would be.
Having navigated the labyrinth of corridors leading through the Department of Mysteries, it didn’t take him long before he was standing in front of the Veil that he suspected was the catalyst behind him being here.
He’d watched Fawkes fly through the archway that night before he’d been whisked through time to where he was now, and although he still harboured some anger towards the phoenix, he wouldn’t wish for his life to be any different to what it had all led to.
Often, he still wondered how it all would’ve played out if he’d not been brought here, but Harry tried to not focus on that.
It was likely that he would’ve continued on the path he’d set himself upon and would’ve remained rather defeated and forlorn about all that had happened instead of focusing on his future.
He’d fallen into a trap.
Instead of trying to salvage something from the disastrous existence he’d found himself in, he’d become bitter and pessimistic.
He chose not to dwell on that.
Given how his life had been to the point of defeating Voldemort and beyond, he’d found it all but impossible to see any positive.
He did still think of Ron and Hermione, and he hoped they were doing well.
His disappearance would likely have been attributed to an accident at work, or that he’d simply decided to start a new life elsewhere, which wasn’t untrue, even if Harry had been given no choice in the matter.
No, everything had, somehow, worked out rather well for him, and for that, he was grateful.
He’d let go of what had once been and was looking forward to embracing what was, but first, there was one more thing he needed to do.
Removing the little box from within his robes, he opened it briefly before closing the lid for a final time.
They were all there, save for the diary which continued to elude him, but Harry had no doubt that it would one day be in his possession again. For now, however, he was content to be rid of the ones he did have.
In doing so, Harry felt as though he could truly leave it all behind and move on with the new chapter of his life, whatever it may bring.
With little more than a shake of his head, he threw the box into the archway, where it was dragged to a place that none could ever hope to find.
Nothing that went in ever came out, except for the voices, and as Harry took his leave of the room, he could hear them speaking to him once more.
‘Potter…Death…Potter…’
They had been the only two words with any modicum of coherence, and over the years of working in the Department of Mysteries, Harry had grown accustomed to them.
(Break)
Harry shot the smug Jameson a glare.
“You know, I preferred it when I was a wanted criminal in Britain. It gave me an air of being a rogue. Why did you have to insist I be given a bloody Order of Merlin, you git?”
Jameson smirked at him as he shrugged.
“You deserve your share of the glory.”
“I don’t want the glory!”
“Well, it’s not as though you have to accept your publicly, is it?”
It was Harry’s turn to smirk at his counterpart’s countenance of misery.
“There is that,” he conceded cheerily. “I still preferred being wanted. Do you have any idea what this will do for my reputation?”
“Oh, shut up,” Jameson huffed. “If I have to accept it, so do you.”
“Why do you have to? You could tell them to stuff it.”
Jameson shrugged.
“I would, but Amelia…”
“Oh, he is under the thumb,” Harry mocked.
“So are you.”
“Touché,” Harry grumbled. “I still don’t see why I was dragged into it. What did you say?”
“I told Bagnold that I couldn’t possibly accept such a distinguished honour if the man who was invaluable in helping me was not equally recognised. You said it yourself, we are in this together. Here, take your award and hang it on your wall.”
“I’ll bloody well get you back for this,” Harry vowed as he took the medal.
“I look forward to it.”
He was grinning again but before Harry could say anything else, he vanished into thin air, leaving him alone with his Order of Merlin, First Class.
Harry stared at it for a moment, and an unwitting smile crested his lip before he carefully placed it into his pocket.
“Jameson,” he grumbled, frowning as he reached the door to the office he’d not frequented for many years.
“Come in,” a familiar voice called after he knocked.
Harry entered and found himself looking upon a man he’d once thought he’d never see again. He’d left his life as a Hit-Wizard behind as part of the agreements of having Eleanor back from Grindelwald’s clutches.
“Ghost,” he greeted the man.
“Mr Evans, please, take a seat.”
Harry did so and waited for Ghost to speak.
For a moment, he simply observed him before nodding.
“I’m not coming back,” Harry said firmly. “I have no desire to be a Hit-Wizard again.”
“That is a shame,” Ghost sighed, “but I didn’t expect anything less. I didn’t ask you here to offer you a job, well, not your old one. I’d like you to consider replacing me.”
Harry was taken aback.
“Replacing you?”
Ghost nodded.
“I was a Hit-Wizard for the better part of three decades before I took this on, and it’s been another three decades since. I am old and past my best, Evans. A good leader knows when it is time to hand the reins to another.”
“What about Fox?”
Ghost shook his head.
“I expect she will be disappointed, but I cannot forget how she conducted herself during the war against Grindelwald. She is an able deputy, but she should not be allowed to take my job. She is not cut out to lead at the very top.”
“And I am?”
“Yes,” Ghost answered simply. “I know that Fedorov had every intention of seeing you succeed him, and had he not been killed, it would be him you were having this conversation with. I respected him more than I have any other, and I believe that this is exactly what he would’ve wanted. You always showed great promise, and you are as incorruptible as him. You should succeed me. At least consider it. I expect to retire within the year, and I hope you will be the one to be in this chair when I do.”
Harry was taken aback by the offer and he nodded as he stood.
“I will consider it,” he promised.
Ghost offered him a smile as he stood and offered his hand.
“Thank you, Evans. Truly, I can think of no other who I would rather have taking my place.”
“I will think about it,” Harry reiterated. “For now, I have a wedding to get ready for.”
“Ah, Jameson’s,” Ghost said fondly. “I expect we may see each other, but we won’t know who the other is.”
“That just means we haven’t lost our touch,” Harry chuckled.
(Break)
“Oh Charlus, doesn’t she look wonderful?” Dorea whispered to him as Amelia appeared on her Edgar’s arm.
“She does,” Charlus agreed with a smile. “Harry has certainly done well for himself.”
Amelia was dressed in a flowing white gown, and even the groom, usually quite stoic for the most part, was grinning from ear to ear.
As odd as it was to see, it was strangely familiar.
That very smile was so similar to his father’s that Charlus would swear that, were it not for the slight differences in their features, that Harry Jameson was an illegitimate brother of his.
He’d admitted that they were kin through an ancient line, and though Charlus believed him, he would hedge a bet that the familial relationship was closer.
How so, he didn’t know, but the resemblance between his own family, especially James as he was getting older, and Harry Jameson was quite uncanny.
Still, he knew it was a mystery likely to never be solved, and it was not something he was going to pursue.
Harry was a good man, a good friend, and Charlus held him in the same esteem as he did those he’d fought on the continent with.
Harry had fought with them too, and although the Potter home had all but been destroyed, Voldemort was dead, and a much deeper seed of corruption had been eliminated in the process.
When Charlus learned of all that had led to the battle at his home, he couldn’t quite believe the depth of what they’d been fighting against, and yet, they’d won because of Harry Jameson and the always elusive Serpent.
Nonetheless, despite the victory, Charlus would always lament the loss of his family home.
The guilty parties of the ICW had already sent him a sizeable payout to more than cover the cost of rebuilding the home, but it would never be the same again.
He was pulled from his musings as those gathered on what had once been a farm broke into a round of applause and cheering.
Charlus joined them, and chuckled as Amelia turned an impressive shade of red as Harry whispered something to her.
It was nice to have something good to celebrate after the doom and gloom of the past several years, and Charlus Potter couldn’t think of two people more deserving than the same happiness he’d experienced throughout his own marriage.
(Break)
Six Years Later
“Moody, Bones! My office, now!” Grimm demanded irritably.
Amelia released a deep sigh and quickly finished signing the piece of parchment she’d been reading.
When she left her own office, she caught up to the grinning Alastor as he was answering the call.
“What did you do this time?” she asked.
“Me? I haven’t done anything.”
Moody was lying and Amelia could only shake her head.
Although Grimm was eccentric, he wasn’t irritated by trivial things, and Amelia knew he was particularly peeved as he’d referred to her using her maiden name.
She’d been a Jameson for seven years now and Grimm never forgot unless he was angry.
“Shut the bloody door,” the man huffed as they entered the office.
Without preamble, he slammed a stack of parchment on his desk and glared at Alastor.
“Cristobel Danvers.”
“What about him?” Alastor asked.
“According to this, you punched him in the face at the Falcon’s match and said, wait, I want to be certain I’m quoting you correctly,” Grimm grumbled as he opened the folder. “Ah, here it is. ‘Take that, you skid mark. I have pissed harder things than you.’
Alastor guffawed in amusement, and Amelia did her utmost to hide her own smirk, though judging by Grimm’s look of displeasure, she’d failed miserably.
“Aye, I might’ve said it,” Alastor admitted.
Grimm shook his head.
“Well, his father wants you punished, and I agree. Don’t give me that look, Moody. I have stuck my arse on the line for you several times and there’s not been an instance that you haven’t completely stuffed it. You will not be working at the next three matches and think yourself bloody lucky Danvers isn’t pressing charges. Now, get out of my sight.”
Moody offered Grimm a salute before complying, and the man rubbed his eyes tiredly.
“Skid mark,” he snorted.
Amelia cleared her throat and Grimm sobered immediately.
“Ah, Jameson,” he acknowledged. “I wanted to speak with you about Barty.”
The man had been off work for the past six months as he cared for his wife.
She’d become deathly ill and it was only a matter of time before she would inevitably pass on.
“Is everything okay?”
Grimm shook his head.
“His wife died last month. They had a quiet funeral, just Barty and his boy. Barty only informed me this morning at the same time he decided that he is not coming back. He is taking early retirement.”
“That is a surprise.”
“Not really,” Grimm sighed. “He’s a straight-laced humourless man, but I saw him with his wife once. He adored her. Anyway, with Barty deciding not to return, that means his job is open.”
“Aren’t you going to take it?”
“Absolutely not,” Grimm denied. “I intend on retiring in the next year or so myself, and the department needs stability. I have already discussed it with Bagnold, and we both agree that you should take it. You’ve been doing my job more than well enough these past months, so, it is yours.”
“Me?” Amelia asked in disbelief. “Why not…?”
“Who?” Grimm asked. “Moody is the only one with more relevant experience than you and he’d burn the bloody place to the ground. He’s an exceptional Auror, perhaps the very best to ever come through this dump, but he is not cut out for this type of thing. If you accept, I will return to my former position and consider candidates to take over when I decide my time is up. If you want my advice, Jameson, take the job. You could really make a difference, more than you already do.”
Amelia nodded thoughtfully.
“Can I think about it and discuss it with my husband?”
“Of course,” Grimm allowed, “but don’t too long about it. I want my old chair back.”
“I’ll let you know as soon as I can.”
“Good, now leave me alone,” Grimm requested. “I’m up to my bloody neck in parchment that I need to sort through.”
Amelia did so and returned to her own office to finish her own work for the day.
When she was done only a short while later, she took the floo home and frowned at how quiet it was when she arrived.
“Harry?” she called.
She received no response and headed through the kitchen and into the garden.
“Where could he be?” she murmured, not seeing him amongst the various pens he’d built over the years.
Each of them housed magical creatures of all varieties from hippogriffs to griffins, and he’d even acquired a herd of graphorns.
The more dangerous creatures were kept in what resembled a simple shed from the outside, though it was anything but.
It was like an entirely different world that Harry had spent months developing with the help of Newt Scamander. How the two knew one another, Amelia didn’t know, but Scamander had been ecstatic to assist her husband, and the two would spend hours in that shed each day.
She couldn’t deny that what they’d created was simply incredible, but she certainly dreaded what could happen if the creatures within were able to get loose.
Even if she was to accept the job of Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, she wouldn’t be able to keep Harry out of trouble if it were to happen.
Not that anyone would have reason to pry here.
Harry had secured all the permits he needed to keep such creatures. The ICW had been most cooperative with him.
“Ah, you’re home.”
Amelia’s eyes widened at the sight of her husband sitting atop a dragon only a dozen or so feet away, but what alarmed her most was the grinning children sitting in front of him.
She was lost for words and wasn’t sure if she was furious, impressed, or perhaps a little jealous.
Harry had raised Celia, a particularly vicious Peruvian Vipertooth from when she’d been an egg.
The dragon had never taken to Amelia like some of the other creatures had, but it seemed she liked the children well enough.
“Look, Mum, Dad is showing us how to ride her!” Grace, their five-year-old daughter declared happily.
Henry, only a year older than his sister grinned at her the same way their father did.
The boy looked just like Harry, with the same raven hair and brilliant green eyes.
Grace had taken after Amelia, but only in looks. She was evidently as adventurous as the man who’d sired her and Harry had been taking both to see all their creatures since before either could walk.
“I can see that,” Amelia said dryly. “Jameson, would you mind telling me why our children are sitting on the back of a dragon?”
Harry rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.
“Well, I thought it was better they learned how to handle her now so they could create their own bond with Celia.”
The dragon glared at Amelia but that didn’t stop her narrowing her eyes at her husband, even if he’d made a good point.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she warned Celia. “I need to speak with you,” she added to Harry before turning and heading back towards the house, a grin of amusement tugging at her lips.
He would never change.
Harry would always be somewhat reckless and crave adventure, and Amelia couldn’t deny that it was one of the things she liked about him. There had never been a dull moment since the night they’d met in the rundown pub, and she doubted there ever would be.
By the time she’d finished making a cup of tea, Harry came traipsing into the house behind the children and offered her a smile.
“Go and wash your hands,” she sighed. “Dragons aren’t known for their cleanliness.”
Both children all but sprinted from the room and Amelia closed the distance between her and Harry before wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him.
“Well, I wasn’t expecting that,” he chuckled.
“Shut up, Jameson, they’ll be back in a minute,” Amelia murmured before kissing him again.
“They’re doing it again,” Henry complained.
“Too late,” Harry chuckled. “So, what did you need to talk about other than what I was doing?”
Amelia released a deep breath.
Whether or not she accepted the job would depend on Harry’s reaction.
Although she’d taken the better part of two and a half years off when they’d had the children, she’d missed going to work.
It had been such an important part of her life for so long, and even when she’d learned of what had happened to her parents, that hadn’t changed.
“A piece of land. A piece of fucking land!” Harry had raged when Evans had told them shortly after the wedding.
Amelia hadn’t known what to think.
She’d been relieved that her parents had not been involved in anything that would tarnish her memories of them, but to be killed over something so trivial as a piece of land the Bones family owned in the South Pacific still came as quite the blow.
According to Evans, a friend of Laurent had wanted the land as part of a resort, but her father had been unwilling to sell it, so, all the hurt, anger, and suffering she’d endured had all been for something so meaningless.
Everything that had happened after had seemingly been for something so meaningless, though she could not deny the good that had come of it.
Harry had been furious, but Amelia remembered the moment he laughed for the first time since learning about what had happened.
“What’s so funny?”
Harry shook his head.
“Just that everything stemmed from the greed of Laurent and the others,” he answered, “but it doesn’t really change anything. Everything we went through, and all I did, it was worth it.”
“Is that so?”
Harry nodded.
“You got the closure you needed, so yes, it was all worth it.”
Oddly, it was one of Amelia’s fondest memories, and though she’d never doubted how Harry felt about her, it made her realise that there really wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her.
“All of it was for you.”
Those were his last words on the matter, and they seldom even mentioned it now.
It was all in the past, and both had moved on with their lives, even if whenever Harry did appear in public he found himself garnering a lot of interest.
He’d learned to take it in his stride, and though the children were too young to understand what their father had done and why he was so well-known, they would one day, and it would likely only make them adore him more than they already did.
“Crouch’s wife died last month and he’s decided to take early retirement,” Amelia informed Harry.
“Ah, so you’re going to keep the Head Auror job?”
“Not exactly,” Amelia sighed. “Grimm wants it back but he’s offered me the Head of Department job.”
Immediately, Harry smiled with pride as he took her hands.
“That’s brilliant!” he said enthusiastically. “You’ll be amazing.”
Amelia was taken aback by the response.
“You think I should take it?”
“I can’t think of anyone else who deserves it more, or who could do it better than you.”
“What about everything else?”
“You mean here?”
Amelia nodded.
“Being the Head of Department means you’ll have set hours in the office,” Harry reminded her. “They’ll be no more working nights, or double shifts unless something drastic happens, and that isn’t often enough to be a problem. If it is what you want then you should take it. It’s only a few years away that we will be sending the kids to Hogwarts, and you’d be bloody miserable if you weren’t working. Even if you don’t accept it, you can still be an Auror. Nothing really has to change.”
Amelia nodded and rested her head against his shoulder.
“What about you?”
Harry snorted amusedly.
“I have no intention of retiring for some time yet. I still love my job, Amelia, and I’m not ready to leave. Maybe I won’t be for another decade or so, perhaps even longer than that. You’re incredible at what you do and the department will be in safe hands with you running it. I have Hogwarts and this place, and neither of us allow the kids to miss out on anything. If you want it, you should go for it.”
“You know, I think I will,” Amelia replied thoughtfully. “I suppose my biggest problem will be keeping Alastor out of trouble.”
“That’s a difficult job by itself,” Harry chuckled.
“It is,” Amelia agreed. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For always supporting me.”
Harry merely smiled in response.
“That’s something that will never change,” he promised. “Anyway, we should celebrate. We can always go for dinner.”
“And spend the night being interrupted by your adoring fans,” Amelia returned amusedly.
Harry shook his head.
“No, there’s somewhere else I’d like to take you. It’s where all of this began for me, and there’s no danger of me being recognised.”
“Is it the same place you vanish to when you’re sick of the sight of everyone gawping at you?”
“It might be,” Harry answered airily. “It’s a place I can go to get some peace out of the magical world.”
(Break)
It was getting late in the evening as it often did when he was working, but given the nature of his job, it wasn’t unusual to be cooped up in his office until the early hours if needed.
Still, Unspeakable Croaker was getting tired, and before long, he would head home for a respite before returning early in the morning.
It was just as he was filing the last of his completed research for the day that he heard a sound that froze him on the spot before he found himself sprinting from the room.
The alarm in the department had only ever sounded three times in all his years here; once in ’61, once in ’70, and now for the third time.
The first two times, they’d found nothing to be amiss, though Croaker suspected otherwise, nothing had been proven.
This time, however, when he entered the large chamber which housed the Veil, the disturbance was rather apparent.
“Get back,” he barked at the others who’d gathered around the eerie artefact.
The other Unspeakables did so, and Croaker stepped in front of them.
“What the hell happened?” he demanded.
“We don’t know, sir,” one of his colleagues answered. “None of us were here when it started.”
Croaker frowned beneath his hood and watched as the surface of the Veil continued to ripple rather violently.
It was a moment later that the laughter came from within, a laughter of a man who’d undoubtedly lost his mind.
It echoed off the walls and went on for several moments until something resembling a grinning face appeared in the archway, though the features, save for the grinning mouth, remained indiscernible.
Croaker drew his wand, and it seemed as though whatever it was within was watching them, peering into their very souls before it laughed again and vanished.
“Merlin, what was that?” one of the other Unspeakables asked after a moment of uncomfortable silence.
“I don’t know,” Croaker answered, “but this room is off-limits to all until I can ensure it is safe to be in here.”
He too was at a loss at what had happened, and though he knew it was unlikely he could figure it out, he needed to try.
Whatever it was that had appeared could never be allowed to be unleashed upon the world.
Clarence Croaker had seen much throughout his career, had dabbled in the most dangerous of magicks, but whatever it was that had somehow appeared in the Veil was unlike nothing he’d experienced before.
The magic it exuded was terrifying, to say the least, and such a thing was wholly unnatural, even in the world they existed in.
No, it could never be free, and Clarence was determined to ensure it could not appear here again.
(Break)
“The King’s Arms?” Amelia questioned as they stopped outside the muggle pub.
Harry nodded, a fond smile playing at his lips.
“The King’s Arms. This was my refuge before I was sent back in time,” he explained. “I was here that night, and I’ve been coming back for the past few years now. I think this is the one thing that really reminds me of where I came from. The faces of my friends sometimes fade, and I choose not to dwell on much of the memories, but this place was always good to me.”
Amelia nodded her understanding and entered the pub as Harry opened the door for her.
“Harry!” a middle-aged man with a slight paunch greeted her husband.
“Bert, it’s good to see you.”
“And you brought a lady with you?” Bert asked.
“My wife, Amelia.”
Bert offered her a warm smile.
“Well, what can I get for you, Amelia?”
“I will have whatever Harry is having.”
“Ah, so two of my best scotch on the rocks,” the man said cheerily. “Coming right up.”
He began pouring the drinks and Amelia could understand why Harry liked this place.
It was quiet enough, and there was indeed a certain charm about it.
“How is the teaching going, Harry?” Burt enquired, pulling Amelia from her thoughts.
“Same as usual,” Harry answered.
“I don’t suppose much changes,” Bert chuckled. “Are you a teacher, Amelia?”
“A police officer,” Harry answered.
“Well, I’d better be on my best behaviour,” Burt chuckled as he held up his hands, though his expression darkened as the door opened once more and a small group of men entered. “Great,” he muttered. “What can I get for you, gents?”
“Four pints of bitter,” one of the group answered, throwing down some muggle money onto the bar, quirking an eyebrow at Amelia as he caught sight of her. “How’s it going, darling?” he asked, ignoring Harry completely.
“Very well, sweetheart,” Harry answered. “I’ll take another whiskey, if you’re offering.”
The man’s friends laughed and he was taken aback by the brazen response.
“I was talking to the lady,” he growled. “What, are you some kind of queer?”
“If you get me a whiskey, I might consider it,” Harry retorted, shaking his glass of ice at the man.
Bert watched the back and forth with concern, and Amelia shook her head,
She could already see where this was going.
“You’d better watch it, mate, or I’ll give you a bloody good hiding.”
“Harry, leave it,” Amelia sighed, knowing her words would fall on deaf ears.
The man was considerably larger than Harry, about a head taller, much wider, but certainly not in the best shape.
“Yeah, Harry, leave it,” the man goaded.
Harry shook his head as he placed his glass on the bar.
“And I thought we were getting on so well,” he mused aloud.
The man scowled at him.
“Seriously, I’m going to twat you in a minute.”
“That’s twice you’ve threatened me,” Harry pointed out. “Now, I’d like an apology.”
“Or what?”
“Or you might just find you’re going to have some very bad luck.”
The blinked before guffawing.
“He’s a bloody psychic now,” he announced to the others. “I wonder if he saw this coming.”
He moved much quicker than Amelia expected, and he swung a meaty fist towards Harry.
In the blink of an eye, Harry responded, and the man was laying on the floor, whimpering as he held onto his groin.
“Anybody else?” Harry asked.
The other men shook their heads and bid a hasty retreat.
Amelia rolled her eyes at her husband.
“Can you not go anywhere without getting into trouble?”
Harry shrugged.
“I didn’t start it.”
“I know, but you could’ve defused the situation.”
Harry smirked in response.
“Why would I do that?” he asked mischievously.
Despite her best efforts not to, Amelia did smile at him, though she frowned as he drew his wand and pointed it at the unsuspecting Bert.
“Obliviate!”
His expression went blank and Amelia shot Harry a look of disapproval.
“You can’t just obliviate muggles, Harry.”
He shrugged once more.
“Bert’s a good sport about it,” he replied. “Besides, he won’t remember a thing that happened.”
“And how many times has this happened?”
Harry hummed.
“This will be the sixth time this year.”
“Bloody hell,” Amelia groaned. “Will you ever not get into trouble?”
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to, Bones,” Harry said amusedly. “Come on, we’d best get out of here before he comes to his senses.”
Amelia could only shake her head as she followed.
No, some things would never change, but she was okay with that, because the things that did had always been for the best.
She and Harry had met, had fallen in love, fought a war, gotten married, and brought two wonderful children into their lives.
To Amelia, nothing else mattered, and if she had to do it again, she wouldn’t change a thing, all for the man who had come into her life and did it all for her.