Chapter 49
A New Beginning
Harry watched as Madame Pomfrey began gathering the various potions and placing them on her tray. While it was a bright, sunny, late-spring afternoon, the curtains of the Hospital Wing were pulled shut, allowing only narrow bands of light to enter the dark room. The occupants of the other beds were dozing softly.
Over a week had passed since the battle. Having been soundly beaten, Voldemort and his army had crawled back to whatever hole they hid in when not terrorizing the public or trying to usurp Ministry power. He had taken an enormous risk in launching his premature assault on the Ministry and was now paying the consequences. A good part of his Death Eaters had either been killed or captured. His forces were in complete disarray and it would take at least a year to build his forces up again, time which would give Harry and the others ample opportunity to prepare and research how to destroy him.
Cleaning up London had been no small task. The Obliviators, with the help of a large core of volunteers (including a reluctant Mr. Weasley), had given a Herculean effort in returning Regent’s Park and the multiple city blocks that had been devastated back to normal. From what Harry heard they were still tracking down any eye-witnesses who hadn’t yet received memory “corrections”, as Fledgeby had called them, even though thousands had already been performed. In the end the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee had ended up explaining the whole thing away as a “film shoot for a very large and costly American action movie”. Harry was surprised at how readily most of the Muggles had accepted this half-baked explanation, though with no remaining eye-witness accounts or evidence to the contrary, it made sense.
There was more good news as well. The day after the battle the goblins had reopened Gringott’s Bank and all the other financial institutions they had closed to wizardkind, allowing the wizard economy to resume in its previous fashion. They had even issued an apology which, while brief and curt even by goblin standards, was highly surprising. While Harry didn’t expect they could count on their direct assistance if there was another battle in the future, they were at least no longer openly trying to thwart them.
The centaurs, on the other hand, had returned to their home in the Forbidden Forest quietly, obviously desiring to return to a passive role human affairs. Some of the magic of Fidellius Paciscorium seemed to linger between the two races, however, and they had already made several gestures of friendship to the wizarding community. They had even ventured to Hogwarts to forgive Firenze of his past transgression and welcomed him back to the forest.
As for the house-elves (now just called ‘elves’, Harry had to keep reminding himself), every single survivor of the battle had returned to work at Hogwarts, only now with a newly discovered sense of confidence and pride. Many of them even took the bold step of asking a Galleon a week for payment.
“Dobby is very happy about this, Harry Potter, sir!” Dobby had told him excitedly when he and Ginny had gone to the kitchens to visit. “Now he only needs to convince them to ask for two days of holiday a year!”
A passing female elf carrying a tray of porridge suddenly gasped, tripped over herself, and went crashing to the floor along with her tray.
“Bad, bad Dobby!” she scolded, an upturned bowl of porridge slowly oozing over her head. “We is not going to get greedy!”
Dobby looked at Harry and shook his head sadly. Harry and Ginny did their best not to laugh.
They owed a great deal to the elves, goblins, and centaurs. If it hadn’t been for their “ and Wulfric Gryffindor’s “ timely help, the battle surely would have been lost. Harry shuddered each time he thought of just how close it had been. If the goblins and centaurs had ever been in Godric Gryffindor’s debt, then the wizards of Harry’s day were definitely in theirs.
Fortunately, the rest of the wizarding world had realized this too and centuries of ill-use seemed to be reversing. Enormous Daily Prophet headlines had read, ‘MINISTRY SAVED BY HELP OF MAGICAL BRETHREN’, and ‘PAST ALLIES RETURN IN TIME OF NEED’. A multitude of gifts and presents from the wizarding public had been offered to the leaders of the Magical Brethren. The day before there had been an enormous memorial honoring the dead of each race and their contribution to the effort. As a token of gratitude, many wizarding families had even followed Dumbledore’s lead and given their house-elves clothes (which the elves protested vehemently to at first), then asked them to accept pay for their duties. Harry had even been pleased to see that they had replaced the silly Fountain of Magical Brethren in the Ministry plaza. Where it once stood were now three brand-new fountains “ a centaur drawing an arrow, an elf standing on the head of a vanquished giant, and a goblin surrounded by a large, spiky dragon “ memorials to the noble creatures who had come to their aid.
The victory had come at a cost, however. Of the nearly one-hundred Aurors who had fought, only forty-three had survived. Similar casualties had been experienced by the elves. Madame Maxine, Elphias Doge, Amos Diggory, Grawp, Dedalus Diggle, and many others had also paid for the victory with their lives. Fortunately, only one of these others had been a student from Hogwarts.
But that didn’t make Theodore Nott’s death any easier to handle. They had held a special memorial service for him during the final D.A. meeting.
Harry had heard the story from an Auror who had been there. Nott had fought valiantly with the group sent to help Dumbledore (the same one Harry had reluctantly left) “ far beyond his age and experience. While he was helping them clear out the Department of Magical Transportation, his own father, apparently under specific instructions from Voldemort to make an example out of his rebellious son, had snuck up behind him with two other Death Eater’s (who had been sent to ensure the deed was done). He hadn’t even had a chance to defend himself.
“Despicable. Utterly despicable,” the Auror had said in disgust. “Me and a couple others had seen it and were fighting our way over to make them pay. Unfortunately for them, though, that old bloke with the tattoos who was carrying a wand and a sword had seen it too.”
The Auror gave a short, amazed laugh as he shook his head.
“Let’s just say he used the sword.”
Apparently finished with her preparations, Madame Pomfrey brought over the tray of potions and set them down next to the bed, causing the various beakers and flasks of glass to clink and jingle together. Harry had never seen such a variety of potions before: a thick, stout bottle filled with a thick, green slush; two long, thin vials filled with a soupy, electric blue mixture; a bowl containing a thick, grey substance that looked more like tar than something you could drink; and at least five medium-sized bottles filled with red, yellow, orange, and violet colored sludge that almost looked like the sherbet the Hogwarts elves sometimes prepared for lunch in the hotter months. He had been in the Hospital Wing enough to know they weren’t going to taste like the elves’ sherbet, however.
Harry definitely didn’t envy the man who had to drink them.
“Here you go, Headmaster, your afternoon potions. Drink them up,” said Madame Pomfrey, helping him sit up slightly in his bed.
“All of them this time, Albus,” she added in a scolding tone and flashing him a warning look.
“Of course, Poppy,” Dumbledore replied with a small smile and a slight bow of his head. Then, with a look of resignation, began the first of the potions.
“How are you feeling, sir?” Harry asked.
“Fine, Harry, just fine. Though I must admit I am quite anxious to get out of here “ I think Madame Pomfrey is using me to experiment on just how much potion a person can take before they burst into a mess of rainbow-colored goo.”
Harry, Hagrid, Professor Flitwick, and Lupin chuckled. Professor McGonagall’s mouth narrowed slightly.
“I still can’t believe you would do something so rash, so hot-headed!” she admonished, at least the fifth time she had done so since they had arrived.
“Neither can I, Minerva. But it had to be done.”
The headmaster lay in a large, white-sheeted bed in the Hospital wing that was surrounded by a veritable wall of gifts and get-well-soon cards. Madame Pomfrey had refused to allow visitors until just a day or two before. She permitted it now, but kept it at one group of day. The first day had been filled with important Ministry and foreign dignitaries. Today was the first time Harry or anyone else at Hogwarts had got to see him.
“Yeh did it though, sir. Yeh stopped him long enough teh get help. Don’ know one other wizard who could do that,” said Hagrid with unmistakable pride in his voice. Professor Flitwick, who had also been at the battle, shook his head.
“Amazing. Simply amazing.”
Harry had heard Dumbledore’s story second-hand as well, this time from Kingsley Shacklebolt. Upon arriving at the Ministry building they found that Voldemort and his group of Death Eaters were going floor by floor, systematically taking the Ministry workers who stayed behind hostage. They had divided into two groups to do this more efficiently and to keep other floors from knowing what was going on. The Dark Lord had put Lucius Malfoy in charge of one group and led the other himself. Dumbledore had ordered the small group of Aurors to take Malfoy’s party, while he took on Voldemort and his group of more than a dozen Death Eaters.
Alone.
“I don’t know how he did it,” said Kingsley with a deep chuckle, “but he immobilized most of the Death Eaters and held off You-Know-Who for at least half an hour. Until that hag Lestrange hit him from behind with Crucio and they grouped up on him. Must’ve been just a minute or two before we showed up, right when they were going in for the kill. Most impressive thing I’ve ever heard…”
Needless to say, the headmaster had received a great many wounds. He would be in the Hospital Wing for a while yet. The irony of the current situation wasn’t lost on Harry. Had many times had the school year ended with Dumbledore standing over an Hospital Wing bed with him in it?
“Thank you, Filius,” said Dumbledore as he finished off the last of the potions “ the thick, green, slushy one. He smacked his lips distastefully.
“Your lunch, Albus,” said Madame Pomfrey as she squeezed between Lupin and Harry and set down a tray with a large bowl of bland, grey-looking gruel in front of him.
The headmaster’s face sunk.
“Ah. Splendid. Thank you, Poppy,” he said emotionlessly as Madame Pomfrey walked away. He let out a heavy sigh, then suddenly looked up.
“Hagrid, I don’t suppose you…?”
Hagrid cast a sneaky look in the direction of Madame Pomprey, who had just disappeared around the corner into her office. Seeing that the coast was clear, he reached into one of his deep pockets and gently removed a large, sumptuous-looking raspberry tart wrapped in napkins.
“I sure did. ’ere yeh go,” he said with a big grin.
“Ah, you are a wonderful, wonderful person, Hagrid,” said Dumbledore gratefully.
“Albus! You know you shouldn’t be eating that yet”” began Professor McGonagall, but he cut her off.
“Quiet, Minerva, or I shall take the House Cup and give it to Filius here instead,” warned Dumbledore, motioning with his head towards Professor Flitwick. Harry, Hagrid, Lupin, and Professor Flitwick laughed while Professor McGonagall’s face creased into a scowl usually reserved for disobedient students.
“What I don’t understand is how Harry was able to immobilize You-Know-Who?” said Flitwick. “How on earth did you do it?”
Harry had been asked this question several times over the last few days and still didn’t know how to explain it.
“I’m really not sure,” he replied truthfully. “I could just sort of…feel his thoughts. And then, somehow, I was in them.”
“Like Legilimency?”
“Er…yeah. Kind of like Legilimency,” he replied, though he knew it had been something quite different. To be honest, he didn’t much like talking about it; the memory of being in Voldemort’s consciousness still haunted him.
“Yer a brave, brave wizard, ‘arry,” said Hagrid, shaking his head in awe. “I reckon between you an’ Albus we got the bravest wizards alive.”
Harry looked away, not knowing how to respond.
A short while later Madame Pomfrey came and hustled them out of the room, asserting that the headmaster needed his rest. The group quickly said their goodbyes and left the Hospital Wing. Harry made his way to the grounds where he met Ginny, Ron, and Hermione.
“How’d it go? How is he?” Ginny asked as she slipped her hand into his. Ron and Hermione looked at him anxiously, waiting for his response.
“He’ll be fine,” Harry reassured them. “He’s even having Hagrid smuggle in sweets for him. I thought McGonagall was about to give him detention there for a second.”
The four of them laughed and Ginny through her arms around his neck, kissing him on the cheek. It turned out that she had been in the battle too, although no one had realized it at the time. After being told she wouldn’t be able to fight she had returned to the dormitories in a huff, then decided to use a hair-color changing charm Tonks had taught her to disguise herself and sneak in with the group of older students. Harry remembered catching a glimpse of a black-haired, freckled girl when they were dividing into groups in the command barrier, but had been too preoccupied to pay it any attention. He had been upset at her at first, until she stubbornly pointed out that he would have done the exact same thing had he been in her situation. It was a valid point.
While there were still almost four weeks left in the school year, classes had been put on an indefinite break as everyone attended to putting things back together. Other students were an intermittent As he held Ginny’s hand and walked around the beautiful grounds “ sun shining, trees and flowers in full bloom, and the vibrant, fresh smell of late-Spring in the air “ Harry realized just how much he loved this place. Being in the battle had given him a new appreciation for things.
That evening he journeyed to Godric’s Hollow once again. This time alone.
Wanting to keep out of the limelight as much as possible during the aftermath of the battle (Harry couldn’t blame him), Wulfric had asked to be able to return to Godric’s Hollow where he could enjoy some peace and quiet. Knowing it wasn’t being used at the moment and was the perfect location for someone who wanted solitude, Harry had offered him the use of Potter’s Cove.
He arrived there just as it was beginning to get dark. He opened the door and entered the broad, open living room of Potter’s Cove where he found Wulfric and Uncle Angus engaged in a spirited debate regarding the virtues of various ale-brewing methods.
“Ah, young Harry has arrived,” interrupted Wulfric as they saw Harry. “Now, friend, if you’ll excuse us…” he said, pulling out his wand and making Angus’ portrait detach from the wall and zoom out of sight down the hall, Uncle Angus screaming as he went. Wulfric chuckled and turned to Harry.
“I appreciate you making the journey here, young Harry. I trust our venerable Steward is doing well?”
Harry was surprised to see how much Wulfric appeared to have changed in the short amount of time that had passed. While his skin had been grey and mottled just after the transformation, he hadn’t exactly appeared old. Now, however, there were noticeable changes in his physique and features. It seemed he had aged fifteen years overnight.
“Yes, he’s going to be all right,” Harry replied. “Fortunately you came in time to save him.”
“Bah,” Wulfric replied with a wave of his hand. “He would have done well to take more men with him, like I advised. We should have won that battle had he taken a hundred soldiers with him.”
He shifted in his seat and reached out for a nearby mug, which he raised in honor of Harry.
“And might I again express my gratitude to you for the generous use of your home. It is most comfortable.”
“You’re welcome. It’s the least we could do,” Harry replied, again noticing Wulfric’s changed condition, the wrinkled skin that had already begun to droop from his face.
“Are you ok, Wulfric? You look…changed,” he asked, not able to help himself.
Wulfric nodding, seeming not to mind at all.
“Yes, I fear the aging process catches up with you rather quickly once you have spent the last thousand-years as a bird “ even one that resurrects itself in a great ball of fire. I must say the soul grows somewhat weary and anxious to throw off this mortal coil. I doubt I shall last a fort-night.”
Harry was highly startled and very alarmed by this news. He leapt out of his seat.
“But…Madame Pomfrey, St. Mungo’s, we can get help for you! The healers…Dumbledore…someone will know how to reverse it, or at least how to slow it down””
Wulfric cut him off.
“Don’t you DARE, Mr. Potter!” he said firmly, pointing a finger at Harry. Harry paused, surprised by this reaction.
“Sit down,” he said lightly, moving his finger to the chair.
“I have lived over nine centuries, Harry. Nine centuries. Are you saying that after all that time, I still haven’t done enough “ that I do not deserve my slumber?”
“Well, no, I…”
“Would you have me linger forever in this sphere, this lesser-world of flesh, tears, and sorrow?”
“No, I just thought…” Harry stammered, highly confused. “We can’t just let you die!”
Wulfric shook his head and smiled. His tone grew soft.
“Death is not something to fear, Harry. Quite the contrary. For those who are prepared, it is sweet rest, the doorway to the next life “ to real life. The only ones for whom death should hold any horror are those who are not prepared for it.”
Wulfric was silent for a moment, his eyes once more looking far away. Then he continued.
“I imagine that is why your Dark Wizard fears it so much. Quite ironic “ in his fervor to preserve his life he has killed his soul, and by so doing, has ensured the death of both. I should not want to come face-to-face with my Maker if I were him, either.”
Harry looked at him, stunned. He shook his head again.
“No, I shall be most glad to pass on, to sit at the side of my fathers and grandfathers once more. I have been waiting with anticipation for hundreds of years now. Do not deny me that blessed event.”
Harry nodded, though he wasn’t sure he understood it all.
“Now, the real reason I have asked you here,” said Wulfric, sitting up and taking another pull from his mug. “Since discovering you were the key to my being discovered and released from my prison, I have ruminated much upon your situation, young Harry, and there is something I must know. Whilst the Steward gave me a brief explanation of your history, he seems to have left out one small detail. Why did this Dark Wizard, this…Voldemort, as he styles himself, attack you and your parents in the first place?”
The question surprised Harry. It was odd and slightly disconcerting to think that Wulfric Gryffindor, the Half-Blood Prince who he had been studying about and looking for the entire year, had spent this much time thinking about him.
“There…was a prophecy made, before I was born. It said that I would have the power to destroy Voldemort. He heard about it and wanted to stop it,” said Harry, giving the very-short version. Wulfric frowned slightly and nodded his head.
“A prophecy…” he said to himself, appearing to ponder. Then he looked back up at Harry.
“So your entire life you have labored under the weight of this prophecy, this expectation that you alone could defeat him and save your race?” he asked.
Harry looked into the deep, fathomless eyes of the Half-Blood Prince, this man he had studied for so long and had fought alongside with but still remained a mystery. He normally didn’t like talking about the prophecy, but for some reason he didn’t mind with Wulfric.
“Yes.”
Wulfric Gryffindor’s face grew solemn and a faraway look came into his eyes, as though he were remembering something from long ago.
“Alas, Providence seems to have a fondness for placing its burdens on the young…” he said again to no one in particular. At first Harry was confused by the meaning, but then and image came to mind. It was of the young son of Godric Gryffindor, sitting under that white canopy next to his Muggle mother so long ago, watching his father’s funeral, a decade or so before his form was changed into that of a phoenix.
Wulfric knew something of shouldering burdens himself.
“I can give you this one bit of encouragement “ I suspect the biggest reason you can have to not fear your destiny. It is this: Providence gave you this particular burden, Harry, because you are strong enough to bear it. You alone. And you will defeat him.”
Harry waited, hoping there was more as he didn’t find this particular statement all that encouraging. Nothing else came, however.
“But…HOW? I fought him! I tried “ and didn’t even come close! How on earth am I supposed to defeat him?” he demanded, a little more forcefully than he had intended.
Wulfric merely smiled.
“It won’t be with your wand that you defeat him, but something else entirely. You do not need to fear.”
Harry looked at him questioningly, wanting to know what that something else was. Wulfric kept smiling and shook his head.
“You shall come to understand in time, young Harry. Just remember “ those who have done all they can to fulfill the duty asked of them by Providence have no need to fear death. For them, death is merely the next adventure. Remember that.”
Harry nodded slowly, not totally satisfied with the conversation. Why couldn’t he just tell him what it was? Why did he always have to figure things out on his own? He would need some time to ponder over all this “ time which, thankfully, he now had. He looked back up at Wulfric.
“We should have left you as a bird.”
The ancient wizard laughed uproariously.
Two weeks later Wulfric Gryffindor passed away. They buried him in Godric’s Hollow in the place he had requested “ a circle of stones high up in a small clearing next to the mountains. Though Harry had expected to feel sorrow “ had even tried to “ it hadn’t come. The smile of peace and contentment on Wulfric’s face wouldn’t allow it.
The final days of the school year at Hogwarts came to an end. Dumbledore was almost completely healthy and back to running the school, though he walked with a limp now. He had returned to his office where there was a new portrait hanging in a place of honor at the top of the wall behind his desk. It was of an intelligent, regal-looking witch with pale skin, raven-black hair, and sharp, piercing eyes.
The other portraits had been slightly overwhelmed by the presence of Rowena Ravenclaw at first. They still looked in her direction with reverence and awe and grew totally silent whenever she spoke. On Dumbledore’s invitation Harry had joined in on some extremely interesting and over-his-head conversations in the headmaster’s office, basically learning from the most intelligent of the founders that the connection he shared with Voldemort was nothing less than an actual piece of the Dark Lord’s soul which had been displaced when he had given Harry the scar. This is how he had received Voldemort’s gift of Parseltongue and explained how he had been able to enter his consciousness, and how Voldemort had entered his the year before.
While this brought up an entire vista of frightening new possibilities for Harry, he decided not to worry about it for the time being. He had earned a break.
Soon he found himself in his dormitory with Ron, Neville, Seamus (who had now fully recovered from the Nightmare Curse), and Dean, tossing their stuff around the room, laughing and joking as they packed the remainder of their belongings. An unfamiliar excitement filled Harry as he packed: for the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, he was actually excited for the summer holiday. Namely because, for the first time since arriving at Hogwarts, he wasn’t returning to Privet Drive. It was a great feeling.
A week later found Harry at Potter’s Cove. Ginny, Ron, Hermione, a good part of the Order of the Phoenix, the Weasley’s, Dobby and some other elves, and a few others had gathered there to celebrate the end of the battle and the beginning of the summer. They had moved tables and chairs out on the lawn next to the Quidditch Pitch where Fred and George Weasley and Seamus Finnigan were playing a small game of Quidditch with Ginny, Charlie Weasley, and Professor McGonagall, of all people.
Delicious food, prepared by Dobby and the other elves (who were also required to actually sit down and eat it) lined the tables, including one with an enormous cake surrounded by butterbeers. It was by this table that Harry, Ginny, and several others sat, listening to Lupin explain why Tonks had had to stay in disguise the entire year.
“…so you see, we couldn’t just have Aurors walking around the halls. They would never discover who was on what side that way. We needed someone who could get entrenched in the school, become a part of it.”
“That’s why you kept giving certain people detention,” said Harry, finally making the connection in his mind.
“Yep,” Tonks said cheerfully, sitting sideways on Lupin’s lap. “Oh yeah, and sorry about getting you that one time Harry “ I didn’t think you were a spy, I just had to make it look like I wasn’t playing favorites and all.”
“No problem,” Harry shrugged.
“Then while that person was in detention, you’d make yourself look like you were them and see what you could find out…” said Hermione, working it out.
“That’s right. Got the idea from a story I once heard about three intrepid young students and a batch of Polyjuice potion…” she said with a large grin. Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged uncertain glances as others in the group snickered.
“I still can’t believe you lied to us the entire year,” said Ron, shaking his head sourly.
“It was for your own good, Ronniekins,” said Tonks, taking a swig of her butterbeer. “Couldn’t just come right out and tell you I was an undercover Auror, could I? Might’ve ruined the whole operation.”
“You know, we actually had a wager going on whether or not any of you would realize it was Tonks,” said Kingsley to Harry, Ron, and Hermione with a grin.
“Yeah, most of us bet on Hermione,” said Mundungus Fletcher. “Lot of good that did me, though,” he muttered under his breath, casting a scowl in her direction. She blushed and tried to smile.
“Not me though, I had Harry,” said Lupin.
“Did anyone bet on me?” asked Ron. An empty silence followed. All at once everyone burst out laughing. Ron frowned and his face turned beet-red.
Now that Harry thought about it, he was surprised he hadn’t noticed the clues earlier: the strange comments she had made about Ron and Hermione making a nice couple; the frequent acts of clumsiness; the fact that she had based her entire character on Mad-Eye Moody, even to the extent of them about getting their buttocks blown off “ he was more than a little disappointed in himself for not having found her out sooner.
“So, who won?” asked Hermione.
“I DID!” Tonks exclaimed victoriously, raising both arms in the air. “No one found me out. None of them thought I’d make it the entire year! Not even Remus thought I could do it,” she said, slapping Harry’s surrogate uncle playfully but sharply on the cheek.
“That’s not true, Harry found out in London””
“He only found out because I let him!” Tonks cut him off. “He never would have known if I hadn’t yelled at him in my real voice “ tell him, Harry!”
Not wanting to take sides in the issue, Harry excused himself from quarreling couple and their laughing audience and made his way to the food tables. After grabbing a few more bits of food and exchanging a few words with Mad-Eye Moody, he walked to the Quidditch Pitch where Ginny and the others had just wrapped up.
“We want a rematch!”
“Yeah, that was no fair! We’d’ve won if our boyfriend had a Firebolt!” yelled Fred towards Ginny, who was dismounting her broom and laughing.
Harry laughed too as Ginny ran into his arms. They embraced for a long time, feeling the warmth, the closeness of one another. Harry ran his fingers through her soft, silky red hair, looking out over the gathering as he did so.
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were nearby, Mrs. Weasley giggling girlishly and nodding in approval at Harry as he hugged her only daughter. Mr. Weasley shook his head and led her away, giving Harry a smile and a knowing nod as he passed. Dumbledore and Kingsley had engaged in a rousing game of wizard chess, surrounded by a large group of spectators. Frustrated in their attempts for a rematch, Fred and George Weasley had moved on to pestering Ron and Hermione, who had just been spotted disappearing into the nearby woods. Charlie and Neville Longbottom were throwing around a Quaffle, getting ready for a match against Bill and Mundungus Fletcher. Tonks and Lupin had finished their quarrel and Tonks was resting her head in the crook of Lupin’s neck while a rare smile of contentment came across his surrogate-uncle’s face. Above this pleasant scene the sun was beginning to set, setting the clouds into a brilliant red and gold blaze. There was a scent of freshness, of newness of life in the air.
As Harry looked over all of this, an overwhelming feeling of contentment came upon him; a sense of peace and completeness unlike anything he had ever known.
The peace was only temporary, he knew. Someday, probably not too far in the future, he would have to face Voldemort again, have to look into those horrible red eyes and fulfill his destiny. But he was no longer afraid of that day. Once it came he would face it courageously, willingly, with the peace that came from knowing that, for whatever reason, Providence had selected him to do it. He would face that day, and he would prevail.
He had a future worth fighting for.
*** Author’s Notes ***
Wow. I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I first decided to write this story.
My original purpose in writing it was to keep myself occupied until book 6 came out. I never dreamed it would keep me occupied until book 7. I’m almost glad it did, though “ it seems like I haven’t had to wait at all for Deathly Hallows.
All the details of the plot for Legacy have been in my mind since before book 6 came out. Using the little info available to us at the time (the title 'Half-Blood Prince, the lionman description, etc.) I tried to come up with a plot worthy of Jo herself and have some fun at the same time. Wulfric Gryffindor, Ravenclaw’s diaries, the battle, Ginny and Harry “ all of it was in my mind from before the real book 6 came out.
As much as I’d like to take credit for the Fawkes is the Half-Blood Prince plot twist, I really can’t. It was one of the dozens of theories I read on HPANA after Jo released the title of book 6. I thought it was a fun idea and built it into the story. The only regret I have about Deathly Hallows being out is that we will no longer have those moments of pure speculation and driving ourselves crazy trying to guess what will happen in the next book.
I’ve had a few people ask if I will write a follow-up, a book 7 for Legacy. Unfortunately, no, I have no plans whatsoever to do this. There’s really no reason to, as the real book 7 is out and is infinitely better than anything I could ever write. I’m going to keep writing, but I need to come up with my own universe; I’ve borrowed Jo’s for too long.
I’d like to thank a few people:
First, to everyone who has taken the time to write in a review: Thank you. I really don’t know that I would have finished this if it hadn’t been for the constant encouragement. Mendel (haven’t heard from you lately), Red Haired Mom, Last HP Relative, Lupin is the chocolate man (one of my favorite screen names), HP Girl, Siva2478, beauxbatonsgrad, Ginny5282, crazyhpgirl, and anyone else I am forgetting.
Second, the mods, who work very hard. I’ve had a bit of a love-hate relationship with the mods, some of whom grade much tougher than any college professor I ever had (I once had a chapter rejected because I didn’t capitalize “Bull-dog”), but I really do appreciate all that they do.
Third, my wife, for being patient and understanding when her 28 year-old husband, the Human Resource Specialist for a large insurance brokerage and father of her child says he needs to take half a Saturday to work on a Harry Potter fanfic.
And finally, J. K. Rowling herself. You know, we always hear how great Jo is because of the vast amounts of people she’s inspired to read. While that’s fitting, I think a far better mark of her greatness is the number of people she’s inspired to write. There are tens of thousands of Harry Potter fanfics available on the web. Every single one of them is evidence of a person Jo’s magic has touched, of someone she has inspired to tap into their imagination and create something. I’m one of them. Regardless of whether or not writing ever becomes a career for me, I will always be grateful to her. Thank you for everything, Jo.
Thanks again to everyone who has read the story. You truly have made the whole thing worthwhile. If you haven’t ever chimed in to let me know what you thought of a chapter, please do it now. It’s fun to see who’s actually out there. I also keep a blog at themickel.blogspot.com for anyone who wants to keep in touch.
- Voldemort’s Patronus
Harry Potter and the Legacy of the Founders by VoldemortsPatronus
Chapter Notes: I've left my notes for the end of the chapter, as I had quite a lot to say and didn't want it to get in the way of the story.