Previously:
“Do you think finding this ‘Pillar of Storgé’, could help us get to You Know Who?” questioned Ron.
“Sounds likely,” said Harry. “After all, look at this…” He pointed to some words [on the map] that had been written in brackets,
‘(please note that is the only way to get to me, Voldemort)’
… and later on…
“Why don’t we try apparating to these pyramids? You know, they may be a real place somewhere.” [suggested Hermione]
As Harry and Ron couldn’t think of any better ideas, the three of them soon concentrated on the little glowing pyramids, all linking arms.
“On the count of three,” Harry informed. “One… Two… Three!”
Chapter Seven, Part Five: Happy O’Brien’s Monumental Storm
The Pyramids of Furmat
Enter at Own Risk
Beware of Various Villains and Probable Climatic Fight Scenes
That was the first thing the trio noticed when they arrived.
They all bit their lower lips.
“Looks like we’re probably in for a climatic fight scene,” commented Ron lightly.
“Yeah,” agreed Hermione. “Let’s just try and find this ‘Pillar of Storgé’ before that happens though.”
“I agree,” declared Ron, leaning against a nearby Pillar, “but where should we look for the Pillar first?”
“Does the map have any further directions?” inquired Harry.
“No,” Hermione told him. “It just says to apparate here, as if we were meant to arrive and find it, standing right next to us.”
“Can I see the map?” asked Ron. Hermione gave him the sheet of paper, and Ron flattened it against the large, prominent and important looking Pillar. “You’re right, Hermione,” he told her, baffled and staring at the map. It should be right in front of us.”
“Let’s go and look around the Pyramids,” suggested Harry. “Maybe there was somewhere else we were meant to apparate to…”
Harry, Hermione, and Ron (who withdrew the map from the large Pillar and folded it up) went to explore the ’Pyramids of Furmat’. There were three of them, one very small, one medium sized, and one very large, but the only pillar in sight was the one that marked their starting point!
“Maybe there’s a pillar inside one of the Pyramids,” suggested Harry.
“Perhaps,” nodded Hermione. “Let’s go and look inside that little one…”
First, the trio explored the small Pyramid, but inside they found only ancient tomes which explained all about the darkest and deadliest of magics.
“This Pyramid is too small,” decided Hermione. “The Pillar of Storgé isn’t in here, because there’s not enough room.”
Next, the trio explored the largest Pyramid, as there would definitely be enough room. They found all sorts of things in there “ unclaimed riches, prophesies and all kinds of protection amulets ripe for the taking, but, having explored dozens of rooms and corridors, Hermione suggested they leave that particular one.
“This Pyramid is too big,” she told the other two, rationally. “The Pillar of Storgé couldn’t be in here, because no one could ever find it!”
Finally, the three of them approached the third Pyramid, the medium sized one, which, they noticed, had a fairly large flat area on top, which (had they been interested in such things) would be a great place for a nice, summer picnic or climatic, high-stake, no-chance-for-escape, fight scene.
“This Pyramid is just right,” announced Hermione confidently, before they had even entered.
A little way away, three people had just apparated to the site of the three Pyramids: Draco Malfoy wearing an ornate crown, what appeared to be a Giant, and the Dark Lord, Voldemort himself. The group of three approached the smallest Pyramid, which belonged to Draco, as he had been crowned the King of Junior Knights of Walpurgis.
Something odd occurred to Draco, however, when he entered. His tomes of Darkest magic had not been alone.
“Someone’s been exploring my Pyramid!” he announced, furious. “They’ve messed up the dust, not to mention my tomes of Darkest magic!”
The giant roared, which, in giant language, meant,
“Now I’m worried about myself and my property! Let us all focus on me now, as I am important, even though I am not wearing a silly crown!”
The Giant and Lord Voldemort left Draco Malfoy to fix up his Pyramid, and guard it so no one could get in again. Since Voldemort wanted to keep the Giants on his side, he consented to go and inspect the Giant’s Pyramid next.
The Giant owned the largest Pyramid because he was the King of the Giant Knights of Walpurgis. When they arrived at his Pyramid, the Giant groaned, and shouted something that sounded like,
“Ark bomb rapple von Tom Dum Zucker zucker Beezle-pop!”
Of course, translated, this meant roughly,
“Someone’s been exploring my Pyramid! The scoundrels, eh, Beezle-pop?”
Much more worried now (particularly considering he had just been called ‘Beezle-pop’ by a Giant), Voldemort left his comrade to guard and fix his own Pyramid. He didn’t need the backup anyway. The Dark Lord could beat anyone at a duel, any day of the week. Even Dumbledore! In fact, the only reason why that stupid mudblood lover was alive was because Voldemort just hadn’t felt like killing him yet.
The Dark Lord Voldemort owned the middle-sized Pyramid, because he was King of all the Knights of Walpurgis, and Future Dictator of the World. As soon as he walked inside, he could sense that, indeed, his space had been invaded also.
“Ah,” he hissed, furious. “Someone’s been exploring my Pyramid, and they’re still here!”
Being a Dark Lord and all, Voldemort didn’t like to get his hands dirty, except in situations of utmost importance. So, since he had no way of knowing whether this was such a situation, he decided it was a good idea to call for back up. As soon as a couple of good Knights of Walpurgis had arrived, of course, whoever had invaded the sacred Pyramids of Furmat (and might have even found the Pillar of Storgé) would be completely obliterated!
After all, if Voldemort didn’t crush his enemies, what kind of Dark Lord would he be, anyway?
“I can’t believe it,” commented Hermione. She, Harry and Ron had been exploring the Pyramid for several minutes now. “One would think that a pillar with such a name as the ‘Pillar of Storgé’ would stand out!”
“Yes,” agreed Harry. “You’d think they’d place it in the middle of the sand somewhere, so people would get it in sight as soon as they arrived at this place. I’m surprised we haven’t so much as caught a glimpse of it by now.”
The three of them had reached the flat roof of the medium sized Pyramid, and were sitting down, somewhat dejected and a little lonely.
“Maybe we should just go home,” muttered Ron, depressed. “You know, and maybe do something very brave and heroic “ You Know Who usually just turns up when that happens.”
Neither Harry nor Hermione got a chance to respond to these ideas, however, because at that moment, a sound came from inside the Pyramid.
“What’s that?” whispered Hermione nervously.
“Oh no,” Harry realised, “Remember that warning about Various Villains and Probable Climatic Fight Scenes?”
“Yeah…” agreed Ron, not cottoning on.
“The odds are definitely not in our favour,” Harry informed, “and I don’t think we’re in for a nice summer picnic up here. Come on, we should hide, so we have the upper hand and the element of slight surprise if someone comes…”
Ron hid behind the stone bench they had all been sitting on, Hermione dashed behind a random chest that conveniently happened to be on top of the Pyramid, and Harry snuck behind a ‘Danger-Meter’, which was claiming that the danger of ‘Climatic Fight Scenes Against Mortal Enemies’ had reached ‘Very High’.
As they and the meter had predicted, several people soon climbed the stairs on to the roof of the Pyramid.
“I’m sure they’re up here!” claimed the hissing voice of the horrible dictator, Lord Voldemort. It was hard to believe that he was the same person who had seemed so innocent when he had been dead earlier that year.
“But my Lord, I can’t see anyone!” Minister for Magic, Lucius Malfoy, informed officially.
“Then they’re hiding…” Voldemort told the Knights. “After all, there are many potential hiding spots up here “ that stone bench, the Danger-Meter, not to mention that random chest that is conveniently on top of my Pyramid.”
As Harry waited in suspense, Voldemort whispered something to his minions, and Harry heard a set of footsteps approaching him. He had to think of something clever, and he had no time!
“Err “ Stupefy!” hissed Harry, and the Knight, who was wearing a black cloak, collapsed. “Accio!” he added, and the Knight’s form scooted towards him.
“Are you alright, Rabastan, my dear brother-in-law?” asked the voice of Bellatrix Lestrange.
“Uh “ I’m fine, Bella,” replied Harry in a deep voice.
“Oh, good,” said Bellatrix. “Now tell me if someone’s hiding behind there, as I want to torture and kill them in my terribly sadistic way.”
“Uh,” said Harry again, in his ‘Rabastan’ voice. “Hold on, I’m looking…” Then, Harry had the fun idea that maybe he could steal the Knight’s robe, and get to their leader that way.
After a memorable lesson that taught Harry that you never know just how much, or how little, a person is wearing under their robes, he gave up on that plan, and decided that it was time, after all these years, to confront Voldemort like a man, face to face.
… Again.
He ducked out, wand at the ready.
Bellatrix Lestrange gasped.
“Rabastan, you have turned into a child!” Voldemort sneered.
“That is no Knight of Walpurgis,” he muttered evilly.
“Ah!” exclaimed Harry. “Voldemort! I should have known it would be you!”
“Yes, Potter,” agreed Voldemort, “I suppose you should have. And I should have known it was you, too! And so should Bellatrix and especially Rodolphus, here, both of whom should know Rabastan Lestrange’s voice quite well!”
It was at this moment, with six enemies pointing wands at him, that Harry noticed that if he wanted to get himself and his friends out of this alive, it would take witty thinking, and ingenious ideas.
The best wittily thought up and ingenious plan that Harry could conjure was to get Voldemort distracted and, when he wasn’t expecting it, deliver a sharp magical blow. However, Harry obviously couldn’t do that if his friends came out from their hiding spots.
“I’d just like to take this moment to say that I wish my friends were here!” Harry exclaimed, dramatically. “And “ uh “ if they were, which they’re not, I would tell them to keep hiding, should they already be hiding, of course, and not come out until I gave the signal!”
“I wish they were here, too,” Bellatrix agreed, disappointed.
“So do I,” agreed another Knight, who was short and furry. “Because I like to eat people!”
“Shut it, Bellatrix and Fenrir!” snapped Voldemort. “Potter, please continue.” He was looking at Harry strangely, and Harry was nervous that, with his mind-reading talents, the Dark Lord might be able to tell that Harry was lying about his friends not being present.
“But no one else is here, especially not Ron or Hermione,” the Boy Who Lived Once More told the Dark Lord Who Also Lived Once More, “so I’m not going to say anything to them, because that would be redundant.”
“I’m not sure of your use of the word ‘redundant’ in that sentence, Potter,” spat Voldemort, flaunting his superior knowledge of grammar and vocabulary. The Knights of Walpurgis snickered.
“Be that as it may,” Harry replied, “I’m still unwaveringly confident. Perhaps you should articulate the nature of your defeating me, so that you may do so with satisfaction.”
“Yes,” conceded Voldemort, “that’s a good idea, Potter. After all, heavens forbid your demise should be any less gratifying than it could be.”
“Precisely my point,” agreed Harry, and fished around for a topic. “What happened to Martin Malovski Saint Clair?” Voldemort shrugged.
“He annoyed me. And couldn’t do magic. And couldn’t even throw a punch. And kept giving personal information out to those awful gossip magazines, so I killed him,” he said honestly.
“And “ err…” Harry thought, “what happened to Peter Pettigrew, who I’ve never met, and who I know very little about?”
“There’s not much to know about him,” Voldemort told Harry. “Everything he’s been up to is entirely nondescript. And, before you ask, Antonin Dolohov is just fine. He’s married now, you know?”
“Who was the best man?” asked Harry, alarmed.
“Snape,” Voldemort told Harry, “but only because I couldn’t come to the wedding, because I’m such a successful dictator that no one dares speak my name or look upon my soulless face.”
“Speaking of which,” said Harry lightly, “Where is Snape?” Voldemort laughed.
“Snape is off, conducting a nefarious scheme!” he told Harry. “And the good part is that, even if he is undoubtedly and completely evil, Dumbledore will still forgive him, and let him teach at Hogwarts!” Harry scowled.
“I should have killed him when I had the chance…” he muttered.
“Yes,” agreed Voldemort. “Just like I’m about to kill you!” he raised his wand.
“And by the way,” slid in Harry, “Where is the Pillar of Storgé? We’ve been looking for ages, and haven’t found it!”
“‘We’?” inquired Voldemort suspiciously. Harry gulped.
“I mean ‘I’,” he corrected himself. “I started referring to myself as ‘we’ ever since I decided that I was far too important to be one single entity.”
“I know quite what you mean,” agreed Voldemort, “but, you see, I disagree. I, the Dark Lord, King of the Knights of Walpurgis, and all around Tyrant of the magical world, could logically refer to myself as ‘we’. However, you, a pathetic child, are most certainly not privy to such expressions.”
“What makes you so fantastic then?” demanded Harry, seeing in Voldemort’s eyes that the fellow was going to get carried deep into his self-obsessed ranting, which was certainly a good sign.
“Ah, Potter,” Voldemort said, with a smug grin. “I am positively immortal! I bet you didn’t know that!”
“But the Pillar of Storgé is the key to your immortality?” asked Harry, concerned.
Voldemort considered for a moment, and then said,
“Well, since you’re about to die, I suppose there’s no harm in telling you my secret. You see, Potter, I have made myself immortal by creating Horcruxes, each of which contains a seventh of my soul. The Pillar of Storgé holds the secrets of creating and controlling Horcruxes.”
“Really?” asked Harry, fuelling Voldemort’s explanation, and wondering as to why such things as the ‘Chamber of Secrets’ held very few secrets, while artefacts such as the ‘Pillar of Storgé’ held great ones.
“Yes,” Voldemort told him, “that’s right. I, the Dark Lord Voldemort, have achieved that which no one has ever achieved before, and have created multiple Horcruxes. I’m not ashamed to say that you have destroyed one, but I can tell you now that, if you should somehow kill me, there would still be five sevenths of my soul out there, ready to arise!”
Harry blinked. He had never been good with fractions.
“Oh dear!” exclaimed Harry. “Oh, woe. Tell me more about your Horcruxes, so that I might attempt to escape and then go and destroy them!”
“Well, alright,” Voldemort told him cockily, “but only because I plan on killing you. You see, my Horcruxes are items from the past, all of which have personal meaning and significance to me…”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Harry interrupted apologetically, “but I would like to point out now that, if I had brought friends, now would be a good time to jump out and surprise you. Please continue though.”
“First, when I was working in Borgin and Burke’s, I managed to get my hands on some great artefacts…” Voldemort continued, taking Harry’s suggestion. “This pair of red and yellow leather pants, for example. Of course, Borgin, Burke and I only wore them because it was a part of Knockturn Alley’s dress code at the time…”
“SURPRISE!” screamed Ron and Hermione, each both apparently in tune with the other as they had shouted in unison.
The Knights of Walpurgis jumped, crying things like,
“What is this?”
“What’s going on?” and
“His little friends! Why, I never guessed!”
Ron ended up in a duel with Fenrir Greyback (who cast curses with his wand in his little wolfy mouth, and smelt as bad as the Toenail of Icklibõgg), and Hermione somehow found herself up against the other four Knights of Walpurgis, one of whom was Bellatrix Lestrange, another of whom was her quiet, non-attention-seeking husband, Rodolphus. The third was Lucius Malfoy, and the fourth Knight an anonymous one, representing the rest of Voldemort’s unknown minions like Yaxley, Jugson and Gibbon.
“What is this?” demanded Voldemort.
“Nothing,” said Harry, “Just my friends, who are greater than your minions.”
Well, he was half correct. Ron proved himself to be greater than Fenrir Greyback, by turning him into a cactus, and then jumping on him until all that was left was cactus mush. Hermione, however, had only managed to overcome two of the four who had attacked her, and had now found herself magically immobilised.
“Mmm Hmm, gmm!” she muttered, unable to open her mouth to talk. Bellatrix (who was still up and running) laughed.
“Well,” said Voldemort, “it’s still three against two, I’m in the lead and one of the two survivors is Bellatrix Lestrange, creepy psycho-cow, and the other is Lucius Malfoy, the Minister of Magic. You’re my mortal enemy, and your little Weasley friend has destroyed the closest thing he has to a mortal enemy (except for Draco Malfoy, who cannot die because he hasn’t repented).”
“Yeah,” agreed Ron. “Greyback was a dunderhead. He made my brother occasionally rabid.”
Voldemort’s expression turned icy cold, as Ron insulted the dead minion.
“Mmm fmm!” warned Hermione, and Ron ducked as Lucius Malfoy threw a curse at him.
“You meanies!” screamed Ron cleverly, voice dripping with fury, and, with a little help from Hermione, who grumbled a bit, attacked the remaining enemies.
“What are you talking about?” demanded Malfoy, attempting to fend Ron off. “You three went into my Personal Correspondence AND Very Personal, Private Correspondence for No One’s Eyes but the Minister’s, stole the magical Green Flame Torch, explored my son’s Pyramid and messed up the dust and tomes of Darkest magic, and, even worse, you threatened to discuss the budgeting with me!”
“We also accidentally had Draco killed when Aragog the Acromantula ate him, in return for us killing Basil the giant snake!” smirked Ron.
“You monsters!” accused Lucius, and he and Ron began to duel.
Voldemort scowled at Harry.
“What did you have against an innocent Giant Snake?” he asked, hissing. “You three are the real enemies here.”
“At least I didn’t try and enslave the entire world,” contradicted Harry.
Understandably, Voldemort chose to ignore him.
It was not long before Ron had managed to turn Lucius Malfoy into a cactus.
“So long, cactus Malfoy!” he cried, heroically, preparing to jump on and squash the Minister, as he had Fenrir Greyback. “Now you’ll never insult my weird, muggle-loving, eccentric father again!” The cactus said something very rude, and then squeaked,
“I’ll get you for this, Weasley!” Then, with a crack, Lucius the cactus apparated away. Ron shouted in anger, but had at least gotten rid of Lucius and, somewhere in the cross-fire, Bellatrix Lestrange, who, although she managed to knock out Tonks and almost kill Sirius in the Department of Mysteries, was no match for Ron.
“So you think you can take me on, Potter?” demanded Voldemort, smirking. “I, the most powerful Dark Lord of all time? You think you can destroy me now and then do it again, five times over?” He drew his wand, and Harry, slightly intimidated, stepped back. Ron, who had suddenly become a hero, knew exactly what to do.
“Expelliarmus!” he shouted, trying to help out, but had accidentally summoned Harry’s wand, too. Voldemort scowled at Ron.
“You two pathetic children think you can defeat me?” he asked. Harry and Ron looked at each other, and shrugged.
“I don’t see why not,” said Harry.
“Me neither,” agreed Ron. “After all, you’re mortal now.”
“What do you mean?” demanded Voldemort.
“Hold on a moment,” Ron excused himself, and, somehow overcoming Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy’s’ powerful Knight of Walpurgis curses, took whatever enchantments that had been on Hermione, off.
“What did you mean?” demanded Voldemort again, looking from Harry to Ron, to Hermione.
“The Horcruxes have been destroyed,” informed Hermione. “Sorry.”
“But “ how?!” demanded Voldemort.
“Dumbledore destroyed two, Regulus discovered another, and Sirius destroyed it, Real-Amberstone Borgin got the third, and Nagini was eliminated by Argo Pyrites Slughorn, who used to be your right hand man and who betrayed you.”
“That git!” screamed Voldemort, in fury. “My right hand man has the blood of my favourite huge snake and a seventh of my soul on his famous, metaphorical gloves now!”
“Yes!” agreed Harry. “Nagini’s dead. And soon you will be too!” He lunged at Voldemort, attempting to push him off the side of the Pyramid.
“Go, Harry!” shouted Ron and Hermione, cheering. “Get him in the nose!”
“But evil knows no nose!” cried back Harry, worried that this would be a problem.
Voldemort and Harry struggled until the two of them were right by the side of the pyramid.
“Get over the side, you stupid prune!” yelled Harry.
“Be quiet, you silly mortal enemy of mine!” retorted Voldemort, although his voice had started to get panicky. Harry gave his arch nemesis a hard push, and Voldemort’s head was over the air. “Harry!” he shouted at last, with no other option, “I am your father!”
Remarkably, Ron didn’t faint, due to his newfound heroism.
“That’s not true!” cried Harry dramatically.
“Have you never wondered why your nose is so small?” bellowed Voldemort. “You only look like your blood-traitor father because you lived with him for the first year of your life and it magically rubbed off on you! But you couldn’t have a big nose like his, because, son… You’re part evil!”
“But Hermione has the same little nose as me!” Harry argued, confused tears welling in his shocking green eyes.
“That’s because she’s your half-sister!” answered Voldemort. “That little nose was my influence, and somehow affected her even though Hugh Bert Granger is her real father, but Lily Potter was her real mother! That little nose can be given to all family members, even if they’re only related through marriage!”
“Even so,” shouted Harry, “you’re evil, and you have to die!” He glanced at Ron and Hermione, head less clear now that he had heard Voldemort’s news. “Right?”
“That’s right, Harry!” shouted Hermione.
“Yeah!” agreed Ron, “You kill that evil father of yours!”
“Even if he’s evil, you’re good!” encouraged Hermione, “You have a nose, after all! Your mother’s good spirit and your adoptive father’s enormous nose saved you from such a soulless, pathetic fate.”
With that encouragement, Harry threw both himself and Voldemort off the side of the Pyramid. Surprisingly, neither thought to apparate away.
“Harry!” screamed Hermione. “No!” But Ron wouldn’t cower. He wasn’t afraid of Harry anymore, because since he was Hermione’s half-brother, he wasn’t romantic competition. As Harry and Voldemort fell towards their deaths, almost in slow motion, Ron dashed to the side of the Pyramid.
“ACCIO HARRY!” he bellowed, at the top of his voice, and, while Voldemort plunged to his well-deserved death, Harry suddenly flew back up to the top of the Pyramid, and landed, bomb-dive style, on Ron and Hermione.
There was a moment of victory (and slight dizziness from falling over), as the trio all jumped to their feet, the champions of the world. They didn’t even notice two owls which were flying towards them from over the horizon.
“We did it!” shouted Harry, feeling inspired to use an Australianism. “Voldemort’s cactus, and Lucius Malfoy’s a cactus! We’re the most fantastic people alive!”
And somewhere miles away, and old man with a grey beard smiled.
“What are you smiling at, Pyrites?” Dumbledore asked his brother.
“I have a feeling that today is a good day,” Pyrites told him cryptically, clapping his gloved hands.
Throughout the room, anonymous authors were cheering, everyone caught up in the moment. Several people had tears pouring down their faces, and others were running about wildly in glee.
Happy O’Brien clutched his heart, and received the book to read the last, final and closing chapter of ‘Harry Potter’, the last ever book in the ‘Harry Potter’ series…
Epilogue: Of Peace and Finality
Harry, Ron and Hermione sat on top of the middle-sized Pyramid, laughing.
“Thank you two, so much!” cried Harry, sobbing.
“You’re welcome, Harry!” replied Ron, also sobbing, but for the first time in his life, it was not pathetic.
“I can’t believe you’re my half-brother!” exclaimed Hermione, tears pouring down her face.
“I know!” exclaimed Harry. “It’s crazy! I can’t believe Voldemort was my father. But I will always consider James Potter to be my Dad, because the alternative is somewhat sickening. Not to mention, Ron, your hidden heroism was amazing!” Ron blushed.
“Well, I did take down Fenrir Greyback and Bellatrix Lestrange, turn Lucius Malfoy into a cactus, play a vital role in defeating You Know Who, and save you, Harry, from the same tragic end, but really, it was nothing.”
“I guess you’re not just a stupid side-kick, after all,” complemented Hermione.
“Thanks, Hermione,” said Ron, “Now, do you think we should just jump off this Pyramid and head home?”
No one got the chance to answer, however, as Harry then noticed two owls, flying their way.
“Owls!” he exclaimed. The owls flew down to land on Harry and Ron’s shoulders. The boys grabbed their envelopes, tearing them open to read the letters.
“To Ronald Weasley and Guest,” read Ron,
“Due to the untimely and unfortunate deaths of the groom, much of the audience, the caterers, some decorators, the best man, the father of the groom, the ring-bearer and one of the flower girls earlier this year, our wedding was postponed. We have decided to hold it at the special time of right now.
We hope to see you there!
Love from Bill and Fleur Weasley.”
“Mine says the same thing,” said Harry, “but with my name on it.”
“So who are you going to take?” asked Hermione.
“Well, I was considering taking you,” muttered Ron, shyly. Hermione, who had taken this for granted and had been talking to Harry, did not correct him.
“Great! What about you, Harry?” Harry thought about it for a moment.
“I suppose there’s really no point in taking Ginny, because I’m assuming she’s already invited,” he said. “You’re the only family member I have, Hermione, but Ron’s already taking you, and I can’t exactly take Luna, because she’s Ginny’s best friend and is probably already invited. I think I’ll take Hedwig.”
The three of them all linked arms, and apparated home, to the Burrow.
It was a beautiful wedding. The ceremony was lovely, and the food was simply divine, Mrs. Weasley cried her eyes out and Bill didn’t seem rabid at all. Everyone was delighted to hear that Voldemort was completely obliterated, and Lupin and Bill had high-fived each other in the middle of the dance floor while everyone was tangoing, upon hearing of the fate of Fenrir Greyback. Not to mention the joy in everyone hearts when they realised that Lucius Malfoy was irreversibly a cactus, thanks to Ron’s interesting choice of spell.
But perhaps one of the most memorable times was when everyone was eating dinner, and several people made speeches.
“Good evening, everyone,” greeted Bill. “Thank you all so much for making our wedding so fantastic, but this wedding, although a monumental event, was not the only occasion of today. Today, You Know Who was destroyed, and I would like to call on Harry Potter, my possible future brother in law, Hermione Granger, my possible future sister in law, and Ron Weasley, my probable brother, to say a few words.” The three of them rose.
“We destroyed Voldemort today,” said Harry. Everyone cheered.
“How?” asked Dumbledore, curiously.
Hermione launched into a detailed account of the day’s happenings, starting off at the very beginning when they had randomly apparated to the Riddle house. When she got to explaining about Minister Malfoy’s Personal Correspondence and the nature of the Green Flame Torch, somewhere in the crowd, a cactus squeaked, and Draco Malfoy groaned.
“Did you have something to say, Draco?” asked Bill. Draco Malfoy stood up.
“Yes, I have an announcement to make,” he said. “I’ve decided that, although I was King of Junior Knights of Walpurgis, none of it was my choice, and my father’s a dirt bag. Thus, in my shame, I’m changing my name to Draco Spungen, and will do all I can to get him fired.”
Several people cheered, and Dumbledore arose.
“I propose that, right here, we pronounce Harry Potter to be the new Minister for Magic!”
“I accept!” cried Harry, emotionally, and everyone cheered again. Draco, satisfied, passed the table back to the trio.
“Thank you, Draco,” said Hermione graciously, and continued for a little while longer, describing what had happened after arriving at the grave yard. “…And I cast an explosion spell on the floor of the Fortress,” she was saying, when someone interrupted.
“So it was you!” cried Hagrid.
“What?” asked Hermione, confused.
“I got home, and my floor had been exploded!” Hagrid explained. “That must have been the Hogwarts grave yard, which you mysteriously have never heard of!” The trio winced.
“Sorry, Hagrid,” apologised Hermione.
“That’s alright,” forgave Hagrid. “Please, continue.”
And Hermione did. She told the whole story of finding a Pyramid that was just right, and then the dramatic fight scene with Voldemort and his Knights. When she reached the climatic ending, everyone at the wedding cheered once more, and several people threw flowers at Harry, Ron and Hermione.
“And just for one final announcement,” announced Ron, “Hermione, will you marry me?” Hermione gasped, while everyone else cooed, and Mrs. Weasley burst into tears again, possibly because Ron was barely eighteen and there was no longer a war, and therefore no excuse to rush into marriage.
“Oh, Ron!” cried Hermione. “Of course!”
By now, some people were just cheering continuously.
“Wait!” snapped Harry, “I have an announcement too.” Everyone looked at him. “Ginny, can you please be my girlfriend again, even though I didn’t contact you when we were both brought back to life?” Ginny, of course, accepted, and a sugar coating appeared on Harry’s already blissful night.
The announcements just went on, and on, with Dumbledore announcing several dozen teaching positions were up for grabs, and most people taking them, and Rufus Scrimgeour accepting practically everyone under twenty as new members of his Auror training program. The trio were all awarded Orders of Merlin, Peter Pettigrew announced something entirely nondescript and not at all memorable, Gary Thomas changed his name to ‘Dean’, Lupin declared that, for some reason, he planned to grow a moustache (most people loudly complained), Sirius got back together with his childhood love, Mary the half-veela, it was discovered that Dudley was part troll and Aunt Petunia exhibited magical tendencies. Another highlight of the evening was when Luna revealed that Mrs. Norris was secretly her, in Animagus form, which, for some reason, caused Percy to become extremely upset and admit that he never really wanted to be a Knight of Walpurgis.
“Well, everyone,” Bill took back the floor, seeing as how this was, in fact, still his and Fleur’s wedding, “I suggest we all do some crazy dancing!” And all the good members of the wizarding world danced the night away.
Scar.
The End
Happy had put in that last word, just because he felt it was a fitting last word for the Harry Potter series. All the anonymous authors, Happy and, especially, Jackie, were overcome with emotion, and Happy stood.
“Well, all you anonymous authors, and Jackie,” he addressed everyone. “Here ends an interesting journey, where all of you have had the absolute pleasure of helping me to, with my limitless intellect and imagination, create these seven Harry Potter books. Three cheers to me and Harry Potter! Hip, hip!”
“Hooray!” cried the authors and Jackie.
“Louder!” snapped Happy. “Hip, hip!”
“Hooray!” screamed the authors and Jackie.
“Even louder!” snapped Happy. “Hip, hip!”
“HOORAY!” bellowed the authors, Jackie van de Geissen and Happy O’Brien.
Happy glanced at the shattered windows. Well, it had been worth it.
But will they succeed, or will the three of them be thrown off the proverbial Pyramid?
Will they destroy all of Voldemort’s Horcruxes in time?
Will Ron ever become more than a stupid side-kick with comical arachnophobia?
Will Bill and Fleur ever get married?
You’ll never know, until you read, ‘Harry Potter’, the seventh book, following ‘Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Superman’ in the well known and well loved ‘Harry Potter’ series.
Harry Potter!
The authors, Mr. Jackie van de Geissen, and the legendary and not at all aloof Mr. Happy O’Brien of Neirbo publications, celebrated their glorious achievement, for four days and four nights. By the time they had finished their party, the seventh book had been released, and had become very successful.
It was on the fourth and final night of the party that Happy received some news, which would make the highlight of his career.
Literary Storm Plagues World… In a Good Way!
Earlier this week, the much loved J.K. Rowling released her seventh and final book, ‘Harry Potter’. This book was received with open arms by the millions of adoring fans around the world, and the book’s release was more than just a big event in the lives of Harry Potter lovers.
Experts have long anticipated a great worldwide storm at the completion of this series, and now even the most radical of suggestions has come true. In the Literary world, we have seen storms from Category One, Two, Three, Four, occasionally a Category Five and even one or two Category Six Literary Storms. The seventh Harry Potter book was expected to reach an unheard of level and cause a storm of Category Seven proportions, but Mr. H. Barrelson of the United Nations Committee of Literature has had this to say:
‘We expected a Cat 5 or a Cat 6, perhaps with decimals, but I’m surprised, astounded, delighted and even slightly disturbed to say that the last, final and closing Harry Potter book has skipped over the Cat 7 category altogether, and has presented us with the world’s first ever Category Eight Literary Storm. No more questions, please.”
Happy pinned the article up on his wall, reflecting.
He had been (of course) right.
“Well, you were right,” commented Jackie, beholding the article with pride.
“Of course,” Happy told him. “The world has been taken by a monumental literary storm.” Jackie wiped a tear onto his sleeve.
“Congratulations,” he said to Happy, offering his hand, which the literary genius shook heartily.
Literature would never be the same again.
THE END
No, seriously. The very end.
Wow. I had an amazing time with this story, and I’ve finished all seven of Happy’s books.
If you have any questions about this story, any other story, or me (pfft. Yeah right, huh?), I urge you to duck on over to my Duelling Club post in the forums.
Or else, you know, you could review. ^^ *Hint hint*
But more importantly, to everyone out there:
Thank you all so much for reading, and sincerely hope you enjoyed Happy's tale!