- British Ministry of Magic -
The Ministry of Magic was the seat of political power in Britain. It began as the Wizards' Council, the predecessor which governed the Magical Britain through the laws and decisions made by the Sacred Twenty-Eight houses. After the enactment of the Statute of Secrecy in 1692, a more structured, organized, and complex government was needed to support and regulate the growing magical community which the Wizards' Council was not equipped to handle.
The Lords and Ladies of Sacred Twenty-Eight houses came together and changed the Wizards' Council into the Ministry of Magic. Allowing them to bring in Pure-bloods that were not members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, and offer them opportunities to better themselves, and their lesser houses, through managing offices and positions that the Lords and Ladies had no desire to deal with.
Wanting to make sure that they kept their power over Magical Britain's laws, the Lords and Ladies of the Sacred Twenty-Eight formed the Wizengamot, a ruling magical body that acted similarly to how the Wizards' Council was before the formation of the Ministry.
Over time, the newer Pure-bloods began introducing others of similar pedigree to the Ministry, giving them positions that handled more of their own work, and allowing the newer Pure-bloods to take on less responsibility.
This cycle of introducing new Pure-blood families of lesser stature into the Ministry, fostered a government of corruption and negligence until there were no more Pure-bloods in Britain that could be hired to take on lower positions.
Eventually, the Pure-bloods were forced to bring in those that they had once shut out from the Ministry, the Half-bloods, and placed them in the lowest positions possible.
Passing off more and more of their work onto the Half-bloods, the Pure-bloods enjoyed generations of easy living and absolute authority over Magical Britain.
But like all things, their lives of luxury started to come to an end as generations of inbreeding between the Sacred Twenty-Eight houses led to a decline in Pure-blood numbers. With fewer children born each generation, the higher positions in the Ministry were left vacant, allowing the Half-bloods to make a play for them.
Suddenly, the absolute power that the Pure-bloods held over the magical community weakened as Half-bloods began occupying positions in the Ministry that were once held by Pure-blood families. And soon, those of no known magical heritage, known as Muggle-borns, began taking on the lowest stations that were once held by the Half-bloods.
Fearful that the Muggle-borns might eventually follow after the Half-bloods into positions of real power, the Pure-bloods in an act of desperation banded together and raised up a champion to lead Magical Britain back into the era of power and control that their ancestors once held.
The champion of the Pureblood Faction, was known only as the Dark Lord Voldemort.
With the political and financial backing of the most powerful members of the Ministry, the Sacred Twenty-Eight and the Pure-blood families, Voldemort led a civil war against the Half-bloods and Muggle-borns.
The civil war became known as the Civil Blood War, and nearly ended in the Pure-bloods' victory when Voldemort was suddenly, and shockingly, defeated. As word spread across the magical community that the Pure-bloods' champion had been defeated, and by a Half-blood baby at that, the Pureblood Faction moved quickly to cast off any allegiances they had with Voldemort and his army of Death Eaters.
When Voldemort rose up once again, resurrected in a Dark ritual that turned him into some form of man with the features of a snake, the Pureblood Faction refused to take him as their champion.
The sudden lack of political and financial support angered the reborn Dark Lord immensely, but there was little he could do without something that could force their hand.
The only option Voldemort had left, was to take control of the British Ministry of Magic, and discover just how he was defeated the last time through the knowledge kept hidden in a prophecy. With the control of the government, and the knowledge of how he was defeated last time, Voldemort would have everything he needed to bring Magical Britain under his control and force the Pureblood Faction to rejoin his forces.
…
Which is why, in a desperate attempt to seize what he believed to be rightfully his, Voldemort led his Death Eater army into the Ministry, believing that their sudden show of force would give ample opportunity to take control before the Half-bloods and Muggle-borns could react.
Even without the support of the Pureblood Faction, the number of simple-minded Death Eaters he could call upon was still a considerate number.
In the storybooks, Voldemort's forces greatly outnumbered the Aurors and the Order. But now, without the pure-blood support, the best he could hope for was to match the Aurors; whose own numbers suffered greatly from the lack of new recruits in the last decade and barely made up a third of the combined Auror presence with France sending twice their number.
With his lack of recruits, instead of sending more Death Eaters to help attack Hogwarts, the Dark Lord was forced to send only one of the newest additions to his Death Eaters to lead the entirety of his army of dark creatures.
Thankfully, he didn't need the Pure-bloods on his side to gather the support of the Giants, Trolls, and Werewolves. The dark creatures were more than willing to side with him after being promised a better future than the Ministry offered, and their numbers were more than enough to make up for the lack of Pure-bloods.
…
Unfortunately for the Dark Lord, his attempts to seize power were known ahead of time by his enemies.
The British Aurors, and their allies from France, gathered together with the secret group known as the Order of the Phoenix to stop the Dark Lord and his forces.
The British Auror force was led by the temporary Minister of Magic, Amelia Bones. A powerful witch who became well known in Magical Britain as the former Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and currently holds the title of Lady of the House of Bones, one of the few houses in the Sacred Twenty-Eight that did not join Voldemort and his Death Eater army in the first Civil Blood War.
Beside her, from their allies in France, stood Jacques Delacour. A powerful wizard who once led France's Department of Mysteries, and one of the lucky few men to be married to a Veela. And not just any Veela, but a powerful and wealthy one known worldwide as Apolline Delacour.
Ahead of the combined forces of France and Britain, standing in front of these two powerful leaders, was an aged wizard known and praised worldwide as the strongest Wizard alive, Albus Dumbledore. He is recognized as one of two magicals alive who can claim the distinct title of having defeated a Dark Lord, and held many of the highest positions of political power as a result.
These three leaders stood firm in front of their forces as the Dark Lord Voldemort and his Death Eater army blasted their way into the building.
And it was with a hail of spell fire and shouted casting, that the two forces clashed in the main lobby of the British Ministry of Magic.
- With Harry and Fleur -
Arriving in brilliant orange flash of Phoenix flames, Harry and Fleur let go of Fawkes's tail-feathers as they took in the sight of the destroyed entrance of the Ministry of Magic. Their wide eyes taking in the rubble and ruins that once made up the grand entry.
Dozens, if not hundreds of bodies lied dead on the broken stone floor, entire pools of blood soaking into the ground as fires burned everywhere. The black, red, and blue robes covering the bodies signifying the overwhelming loss of numbers on both sides of the battle.
Trying not to let the horrific sight affect them, Harry turned to Fleur, taking note of her dirtied Basilisk robes that were thankfully unharmed despite their previous battle at Hogwarts. Their few moments of rest in the Headmaster's Office and the Pepper-Up Potions provided from Madam Pomfrey, provided the two an opportunity to catch their breath and get a second-wind before carrying out their plan to end Voldemort once and for all.
"You know what to do." Harry spoke up, getting a single nod from Fleur before he followed Fawkes farther down into the Ministry. Glancing at the steady stream of corpses and destruction until he reached the other end of the massive room, spotting the remnants of the two forces battling it out.
What had once been well over a hundred Aurors facing off against a similar number of Death Eaters, now there were barely two dozen left on the Aurors' side, and a small handful of half a dozen Death Eaters who were still alive and had enough magic left in them to keep fighting.
Amidst the chaos of the battle, a noticeable area had been kept separate from the main forces. That area was where Harry found an exhausted Dumbledore waging a fierce duel against an equally exhausted Voldemort, their torn robes and wounded bodies giving credence to their drawn-out battle.
Nearby, the dead body of Minister Bones laid beside the one-armed frame of a nearly unconscious Jacques Delacour, who's back was propped up by a large chuck of rubble that had once been part of a statue in the Ministry's main lobby.
Focusing back on the duel, Harry watched as Dumbledore tried to capture Voldemort in a sphere of water, boggling Harry's mind at the sheer level of control needed to perform such a spell.
Unfortunately, Dumbledore's aged body was wracked with bleeding wounds, a few Harry recognized as fatal, and it couldn't keep up with the stress and level of magic he and Voldemort had been throwing around.
With the last of his magic spent, Dumbledore watched helplessly as his sphere of water collapsed, freeing the gasping Dark Lord who used his moment of freedom to quickly cast a silent Disarming spell at the aged Headmaster.
Unable to move out of the way in time, the spell connected, and the Elder Wand went flying out of Dumbledore's grasp and into the air where Voldemort snatched it with his free hand. Seeing his exhausted foe, and knowing that he too was also nearly spent, Voldemort smiled wickedly as he raised his yew and phoenix-feather wand.
"This is the end for you, Dumbledore." He hissed out, his voice coming out as a mixture of English and Parseltongue as the tip of his wand glowed a sickly-green. "AVADA KEDAVRA!"
Springing into action, Harry drew his old ebony and phoenix-feather wand that he had picked up from his apartment before arriving at the Ministry with the help of Fawkes.
Jabbing the glowing scarlet-red tip at Voldemort, Harry shouted "EXPELLIARMUS!"
The Killing Curse's jet of sickly-green light veered away from the slumped over form of the fatally wounded Headmaster, and collided midair with the scarlet-red jet of the Disarming Curse. The feathers contained in the brother-wands forcing a confrontation of will that took Voldemort by surprise.
"What is this?!" Voldemort shouted, looking past the connected beams of energy at the person on the other end. "POTTER!"
Enraged at losing the chance to kill Dumbledore, and by the one who brought about his defeat the last time, his serpent-like red eyes glared murderously into Harry's emerald-green. "You'll die for this, boy!" The hatred in his words spraying out like vitriol.
Drawing in a breath, the Dark Lord hissed out in Parseltongue, "~NAGINI! KILL HIM!~"
From the shadows of a nearby pile of rubble, a great snake slithered rapidly over the debris covering the ground, clearing the distance to Harry in seconds before its body sprung into the air.
Nagini, ever the loyal and faithful companion to the Dark Lord, opened her jaw to reveal a set of large fangs dripping with deadly venom, moving closer and closer to Harry's form. There was nothing Harry could do as he was forced to stand there and keep the connection between his wand and Voldemort's going.
An exhausted Dumbledore and barely-conscious Jacques watched horrified as the great snake soared within a foot of Harry…
…before a silver gleam appeared out of thin air, slicing the head off the snake's body.
Voldemort's look of triumph dropped into a horrified stare as Nagini's severed head and body dissolved into a black mist, signaling the destruction of his Horcrux as a flourish of movement drew everyone's eye.
Standing there with the Sword of Gryffindor in one hand, and Harry's Cloak of Invisibility in another, Fleur grinned triumphantly as she watched Voldemort's face twist in painful agony as the destruction of his last soul fragment caused his body to faulter and use up the last of his magic.
Sensing the connected beam of energy weaken on Voldemort's side, Harry waited until it broke before he used the sudden opening to charge. With the last of his magic spent, Voldemort could do nothing but wave his wand flutily as Harry crashed into his body, sending them both tumbling to the ground.
Enraged, Voldemort's exhausted body failed to push Harry off him as he shouted in Parseltongue at the teen. "~Unhand me, Potter! I will kill you for this!~"
Ignoring his screams, Harry grabbed Voldemort's snake-like face with his hands, watching as his mother's protection caused his touch to burn the unnaturally pale skin as the Sowilo rune on his forehead flared a vibrant red. Even after all these years, his mother's protection was still just as powerful as it had been that Halloween Night in Godric's Hollow.
Within seconds, Voldemort's skin began turning to ash.
Realizing that he was about to die, Voldemort began panicking as he screamed in terror. "~NO!...YOU CANNOT KILL ME!...I AM LORD VOLDEMORT!...I AM IMMORTAL!~"
Leaning down so that his emerald-green eyes glared through his spread fingers into Voldemort's terror-filled red eyes, Harry gave only one reply to the man's screams.
"…This is for my parents."
Pressing firming against the flailing Dark Lord's face, Harry watched as within moments, Voldemort's resurrected body turned to ash underneath his touch before fading away.
And with that, the prophecy was fulfilled and the Dark Lord Voldemort died for the last time.
…
Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry slowly got to his feet as Fleur came over to help him up. Spotting the Elder Wand lying on the ground next to where Voldemort's body used to be, Harry quickly pocketed the wand before trudging over the downed forms of Dumbledore and Jacques.
"You did it…" Jacques breathed out in awe, staring up at Harry and Fleur with pride in his eyes as his daughter got down on her knees to start healing his thankfully not fatal wounds.
Seated next to him, Dumbledore let out a chuckle. "Indeed they did." Moving his head to the side, the Headmaster gave a hacking cough as blood dripped down from his lips.
A mournful cry was heard overhead as Fawkes swooped down onto his lap, dropping something on the ground next to his before trying to cry on his wounds, unsuccessfully attempting to heal them. "I'm sorry my dear Fawkes, but not even your tears can save me now." Dumbledore replied, weakly reaching up with a shaking hand to rub the Phoenix's plumage.
Turning his attention to the Sword of Gryffindor lying next to the kneeling Fleur, he asked Harry softly. "How did you find it?"
Smirking, Harry nodded motioned to Fleur as the Sorting Hat spoke up from its spot where Fawkes had dropped it. "It seems Ms. Delacour here would have made an excellent addition to Gryffindor, one that even Godric himself would have been proud to have in his House."
"Truly?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily despite his oncoming death. "What a remarkable find…" Turning to Harry, he added mournfully, "Unfortunately, I fear that will not be the last of Voldemort…He has a way of bringing himself back to life, a dark piece of magic known as-…"
Interrupting the Headmaster, Harry shook his head with a grin. "We know, sir…And we've already taken care of the other ones. Nagini was the last…"
Spotting the wide-eyed look, he chuckled, "All we had to do was borrow some of the Basilisk's venom, and the Sword made the perfect weapon to destroy them." While Harry wasn't about to reveal that Death had actually destroyed the other Horcruxes, he wanted Dumbledore to at least know that Voldemort was gone for good before he passed.
"How did-…You know abou-…" Dumbledore stammered to reply, his mind trying and failing to catch up with what he just heard as his face expressed his complete and utter shock. Eventually, he settled on letting out a deep, heartfelt chuckle as a bright smile appeared underneath his silver beard. "So he's finally gone?"
Seeing Harry's nod, Dumbledore felt a heavy burden lift from his shoulders as he gave a deep sigh of relief. "At long last, Tom Riddle is no more…" He muttered happily as his eyes began to close, "Now I can rest…"
And with a last breath, Albus Dumbledore died happily. Knowing that his final failure had been fixed, and Magical Britain was saved from the evils of his former student Tom Riddle, known only to the world as the Dark Lord Voldemort.
Staring at the body of his former Headmaster, Harry frowned at the realization that the Elder Wand had succeeded in taking another victim.
And just as Death had foretold, Dumbledore did not go quietly. Instead, he died dueling a Dark Lord to a standstill, tiring Voldemort out until they both were long their last legs, allowing Harry to get the killing blow and ending the Civil Blood War once and for all.
- The Next Day -
Groaning, Harry waited for the tea kettle to heat up as he rubbed at a sore spot on his shoulder.
Things had been hectic after the events at the Ministry of Magic. Dozens of Ministry employees had rushed in after the battle was over to help the injured Aurors get to St. Mungo's. Harry and Fleur had made sure to get Jacques the best Healers to help him recover from his injuries.
It wasn't long after that when an emergency edition of the Daily Prophet went out across the country hours later after the press was finally allowed in to see the destroyed remains of the Ministry.
YOU-KNOW-WHO
DEFEATED
by
the BOY-WHO-LIVED!
By: Andy Smudgley
While the main focus of the first Daily Prophet talked about the defeat of Voldemort by Harry's hand, the paper had to be released in several editions to cover all that had happened. Several of the most important events in the battle were plastered all over each front page, with their articles covering several pages worth of information.
HEADMASTER
ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
and
MINISTER
AMELIA BONES
DEAD!
By: Andy Smudgley
MINISTRY IN RUINS!
By: Rita Skeeter
Harry chuckled at the amount of papers Andy Smudgley had to write. There was so much that the man eventually admitted defeat and called on Rita Skeeter to help him cover it all.
Thankfully, the poisonous woman was too shocked by the extent of what happened to try and sensationalize the story as she usually did…leading to what was perhaps her first -and only- completely factual story.
…
Feeling a pair of arms wrap around his waist from behind as the gentle touch of feminine hands rubbed against his bare chest, Harry sighed pleasantly at the feel of Fleur's body pressing into his back. His thoughts about what happened fading from his mind as her warm breath caressed his skin, feather-light kisses tailing along the back of his neck as Fleur quietly greeted her lover.
"Good afternoon, my heart." Fleur purred out, her sapphire-blue eyes twinkling happy as she felt him shiver pleasantly at her tone.
Slowly turning around in her grip, Harry wrapped his own arms around her thin waist before he leaned in to place a kiss her forehead, trailing kisses down her cheeks until he reached her full lips. Their motions were unhurried as they kissed softly, enjoying the peaceful afternoon together.
After what had happened at Hogwarts and the Ministry, they had come to the unanimous decision of taking the day off and sleeping in late today. Which is why, despite it being almost noon, the two were just now getting up and standing in the kitchen in their pajamas.
Though said pajamas consisted only of a pair of grey sweatpants for Harry, and a large shirt -one of Harry's- over a pair of baby-blue cheeky panties for Fleur.
Normally they wore practically nothing to bed, but it seemed that Britain's weather was expressing the same sentiments as the rest of Magical Britain, who were lamenting the loss of Dumbledore as rain poured nonstop throughout the whole morning and well into the afternoon.
The chill in the air outside was mercifully offset by the crackling fire in the fireplace as the heat kept the apartment warm enough for the both of them.
Breaking the kiss with a sigh, Harry groaned as Fleur moved back to his neck, leaving a hickey for anyone to see as her arousal was ignited by his hands wandering down to her panty-clad rear where he palmed each cheek in his large hands.
When Fleur started licking and nibbling on the bruised mark she left on him as her groin rubbed against his, Harry kneaded her toned butt with his hands as he pulled her lower half against his own, increasing the friction between their sexes.
"Fuck, Flower…" He panted out softly, causing her hips to twitch in pleasure at the heated tone as her nipples poked excitedly through the thin fabric of the shirt.
Before things became too heated, the passionate moment was ruined by the sound of the tea kettle whistling loudly.
Chuckling at the sudden interruption, Harry smiled at Fleur as she giggled softly, both of them finding the sudden stop of their fun humorous despite the obvious arousal in their eyes.
Releasing her grip on him, Fleur moved to sit at the counter as Harry started pouring two cups of tea.
"It looks like things are going to get serious pretty soon." She voiced out, reading a small section of an article in the Daily Prophet that mentioned a new election would be called soon to fill the seat of Minister. Already, prominent names were being guessed as the potential choices for the office.
Of the list of names for Minister, Lucius Malfoy's stuck out the most to them.
"Do you think he will get it?" She asked Harry as he set down a steaming cup of tea in front of her. "Merci…"
Sighing, he took a sip from his own cup before he replied. "I'm not sure…it seems like everyone who could have been a real contender is either dead from the battle, or already fled the country."
Far too many good people lost their lives in the wake of the Ministry battle, and now it seemed like the Pureblood Faction was standing tall as the foremost power in the country without any opposition left to keep them in check. What remained of the Order of the Phoenix disbanded after Dumbledore passed.
"It's possible that others might return to Britain now that things have cleared up. Maybe one of them might get the position" He shrugged, though his tone made it clear he was doubtful it mattered. Lucius Malfoy already had the backing of the Pureblood Faction, and without any real contenders the vote would likely be unanimous.
Nodding in agreement, Fleur waited a few moments to let the matter settle before she spoke up again. "Our Portkey back to France is the day after tomorrow, right?"
"Yeah…it'll be right after the election for Minister." Harry confirmed.
Those still in power wanted to get the Ministry back to normal as soon as possible, and had decided to hold the vote for Minister two days after the battle to try and bring some semblance of normalcy to the country.
Because of his title as Lord, Harry was expected to be there and sit in on the Wizengamot session where they would hold the vote before retiring to the special chambers of the Sacred Twenty-Eight for a discussion on the future of the country with the newly elected Minister.
Thankfully, once the two sessions were over, he wouldn't have to be called back to Britain for another month. Giving them plenty of time to get settled in France and figure out what they both wanted to do going forward.
Before they could do any of that though, there was one last thing that needed to take care of.
"We need to call to her and give back the Elder Wand." Harry spoke aloud, remembering that the wand was still sitting in one of the pockets of his Basilisk robe after he had taken it from the final battle against Voldemort.
With the last soul fragment dead, and the Elder Wand in his possession, they had finally finished all of the tasks that Death had given him to complete.
…
Finishing the last of their tea as the sound of rain fell against the window outside the kitchen, Harry and Fleur moved into the living room to give themselves some more space before calling out to Death.
"Death…" Harry spoke, watching as the words caused a portal made of chilling black energy to open up near the front door.
With little fanfare, Death glided out of the portal and into the apartment with a grace that even Fleur's Veela ancestry could never hope to match. Her black robe trailed gently along the wood floors as she moved closer to them, her painted black lips stretched into a warm smile as she congratulated the pair. "Well done, my dears!"
"Finally, Voldemort's soul has fallen into my grasp, and another arrogant immortal learns that it is impossible to escape Death." She purred out, her warm smile turning sinister as she thought of all the ways she would make Voldemort regret trying to escape her. Lord 'Flees-From-Death' her perfectly shaped ass…how that man came up with such a ridiculous name, she'd never now. At least now she had an eternity to take it out on him.
Watching Death giggle madly, Harry and Fleur glanced at each other unsure as to how they were supposed to respond to that statement. Fleur motioned with her eyes for Harry to speak first.
"Um…you're welcome?" He hesitantly replied.
Seeing that her words and giggling had unsettled them, Death waved off the statement with a laugh. "My apologies, my love…I tend to get overzealous at times when it comes to supposed immortals." She apologized, bringing a pale hand up to caress his cheek before doing the same to Fleur with her other hand. "To think you both would succeed at such an endeavor so soon after it was given to you…you truly are meant for each other."
Smiling, she dropped her hands from their faces before clapping. "Now then, I believe there was something you wanted to give me?" She asked Harry, who nodded before moving into the bedroom to rummage through the dirty heap of Basilisk robes that they had left on the floor after returning home, too exhausted to put them away.
Pulling the Elder Wand out of one of his robe's pockets, Harry returned to the living room before handing the wand over to Death.
"Ah…there you are." Channeling her chilling black energy into the wand, it disintegrated before their eyes. "And with that, the last of my artifacts have been dealt with. To think that they would wreak such havoc on your world…" She muttered, thinking back to when she had first made the Deathly Hallows for the Peverell brothers as a trap to kill them both, and the many lives lost as a result.
Shaking off the thought, Death smiled at the teens as she spoke up. "Enough about that, it's time I rewarded you both for your efforts." Holding out a hand to Fleur, she summoned her black energy onto her palm before it shifted into a potion. "This is for you, my darling."
Gently taking the potion, Fleur stared at the purple liquid swirling inside. "What iz it?"
"That, is for your father's wounds." She replied, drawing Fleur's attention away from the potion as she looked to Death in confusion. "His wounds are far more serious than the Healers realize…the potion will repair the damage done to his body that they had missed."
Gasping, Fleur breathed out, "Merci…" Her tone filled with all the gratitude she couldn't put into words, to try and express how much it meant to her.
Smiling, Death turned her attention to Harry, who was looking at her with the same gratitude in his eyes for the wonderful gift she had given Fleur.
"As for you… I have an idea for what would be a suitable reward, but I don't feel like it just yet." She teased, swaying her hips as she stepped closer to him before bringing a finger up to trace his jawline. "For now, why don't we celebrate your success?"
Staring hungrily at his naked chest, Death glanced at Fleur who was watching captivated as her finger trailed down Harry's muscular chest before hooking into the waistband of his sweatpants. "Care to join us, my darling?"
Licking her lips, Fleur nodded rapidly, gently placing the potion down on a side-table before moving closer to the pair as Death started undoing the tied strings to Harry's sweatpants.