Arthur materialized in the entrance courtyard of Hogwarts with a sharp crack. The dawn light spilled across stone walls pocked with scorch marks and rubble. The battle was over, but its echoes lingered in every broken window, every smear of ash on the cobblestones.
Aurors moved between bodies, cataloging the dead. Healers from St. Mungo's tended to the wounded. The air reeked of burnt stone, blood, and lingering spell-fire.
Arthur remained invisible, not wanting to startle anyone—or risk being mistaken for another threat. He was in no condition or mood for another battle.
He pulled two vials from his expanded pocket: a Pepper-Up Potion and a specialized magical restorative he'd brewed for this very war. Steam billowed from his ears as the potions did their work, and he could feel his strength and magic reserves slowly recovering.
Energised, he drifted through the castle like a ghost, observing the aftermath.
In the entrance hall, Amelia Bones stood at the eye of the storm. Her voice, clipped and commanding, carried over the chaos as she spoke with various department heads.
"—need a full audit of captured Death Eaters. We cannot release any statements until we've accounted for all the foreign combatants. The Grindelwald loyalists complicate matters significantly—"
Arthur didn't linger. He slipped past her, past the frantic officials and scrambling aides, and into the Great Hall.
The doors stood wide open. Arthur paused at the threshold, then stepped inside.
Bodies lay in neat rows down the center of the hall, covered in white sheets that couldn't quite hide the stillness beneath. Students, professors, Aurors—death had been indiscriminate. Arthur didn't look too closely at the faces. He'd done what he could during the battle, taking out the fiercest attackers and portaling the wounded to safety.
It wasn't his duty to save everyone, and he would not torment himself by trying to put names to the dead.
Survivors clustered in quiet groups. Their laughter was subdued, their joy muted by the sight before them. Victory was always bought with a price.
Arthur kept moving, searching for Harry and Sirius. He checked the Hospital Wing, the Gryffindor common room, even the Headmaster's office. Finally, he picked up familiar magical signatures from above.
The Astronomy Tower.
He climbed the spiral stairs, dropping his invisibility as he reached the top. Harry and Sirius stood at the balcony's edge, staring out at the sunrise painting the Scottish Highlands gold and crimson.
"Enjoying the view?" Arthur asked quietly.
Neither startled. They'd probably expected him to come. After all the surprise pranks he'd put the duo through, they expected him to appear without warning.
"Arthur," Harry turned, exhaustion evident in his voice. "You're back."
"What are you two doing up here?" Arthur moved to join them at the railing. "Shouldn't you be celebrating with the others?"
"There's nothing to celebrate," Sirius said flatly, his usual humor nowhere to be found. His eyes stayed fixed on the horizon.
Silence hung heavy until Harry spoke. "We saw the Dark Marks vanish. All of them, at once." He looked at Arthur, voice tightening. "So he's really gone? For good?"
"Yes," Arthur confirmed. "Completely dead. No soul fragments, no resurrection rituals, no magical contingencies. Tom Riddle is gone from this world permanently."
Mephisto had put a nail on that particular coffin.
Harry's shoulders sagged with relief. "Good. I thought... since the prophecy said I had to be the one to vanquish him, maybe he'd find a way back. That it wasn't really over."
"Prophecies rarely work in straight lines," Arthur replied. "You fought him. You weakened him. You destroyed his anchors. Maybe that last spell you cast—the one Bellatrix intercepted—was the prophecy's fulfillment. Voldemort seemed to think so. What matters is this: he will never come back."
"Thank Merlin for that," Sirius muttered. He finally looked at Arthur, managing a weak smile. "When I saw that sphere of darkness he conjured, I thought we were done for. Thank you for stepping in."
Arthur waved off the gratitude. "No thanks needed. I prefer you lot winning to an all-out war between the wizarding and muggle worlds under Voldemort's rule. That would've been... messy."
"Still," Harry insisted, "thank you for helping during the battle too. Without those portals moving the wounded and swallowing Death Eaters, we would've lost far more people."
"So the casualties were bad?" Arthur asked.
Sirius nodded grimly. "Not as bad as they could've been. You took out most of his inner circle before this, and our side neutralized the werewolves and giants early. But the Grindelwald loyalists—" His jaw tightened. "They cut deep."
"My condolences." Arthur paused, then asked, "What about the Death Eaters who survived? I didn't see Snape anywhere during the battle."
Sirius snorted. "Snivellus didn't fight. Turns out he backed out early when he saw which way the wind was blowing. Tom was planning to punish him for it later."
"Snape was always the smart one," Arthur observed. "Knew the Dark Lord's chances were slim, so he kept away. Though now he'll spend the rest of his life running."
"Good riddance," Sirius muttered.
Arthur could track him down easily, but he had no quarrel with the man. Snape hadn't helped him at school, but he hadn't truly harmed him either. If he wanted to vanish into obscurity, let him.
Maybe now, without his handlers, the genius potions master would finally get to focus on what he knew best—brewing potions and nothing else.
"So what's next?" Harry asked after a pause.
"For me? Nothing dramatic," Arthur said. "Life continues as it always has."
"We could change the wizarding world together," Harry suggested, a spark of his usual optimism returning. "Make it better."
Arthur shook his head. "The wizarding world is too small for my ambitions. And I have no interest in its politics. You'll have your hands full these next few weeks anyway. With the war over, Amelia's emergency powers will be revoked. Politicians will return to squabbling over the pettiest things."
"I'm dreading it already," Sirius groaned. "The Wizengamot sessions will be insufferable."
"At least you'll have entertainment," Arthur said dryly. "Watching them argue about cauldron thickness standards after surviving a war should provide perspective."
"Or drive me to drink," Sirius countered.
"That implies you need an excuse," Harry shot back, grinning faintly.
Sirius gasped in mock offense, but the humor didn't linger. They all turned back to the battlefield below, where Aurors still picked through the wreckage.
"It doesn't feel real," Harry said quietly. "That it's actually over."
"It'll take time to sink in," Arthur assured him. "Just make sure a war doesn't happen again. Do your best to prevent that, and you'll be fine."
"As if I can control that," Harry said with a bitter laugh.
"You can," Arthur countered. "Don't underestimate the influence and power you have. After your battle against Voldemort, which many people witnessed, they'll think twice before crossing you. Use that influence for good."
"I wish it could all be forgotten," Harry said softly. "I wish I could just be Harry."
"You can never be 'just Harry,' no matter what you do," Arthur said, not unkindly. "And since that's the case, why not use that influence for the best?"
"He's right," Sirius added, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. "But Harry—you'll always be 'just Harry' to us."
"Thank you," Harry said, managing a genuine smile.
Seeing that it was time to leave, Arthur called out, "Winky!"
The house-elf appeared with a soft pop, still wearing the armored vest she'd donned for battle, though it was now scorched and torn in places.
"Master called?" She looked tired but satisfied, like a general after a successful campaign.
"You were brilliant, Winky," Arthur said. "I'm sure everyone agrees your leadership of the house-elf forces was instrumental. You saved many lives."
Winky's large eyes widened, and she fidgeted with her vest. "Winky only did what was needed, Master. Bad wizards threatened Hogwarts."
"Don't be modest," Harry added with a grin. "You were brilliant out there. I saw you take down three Death Eaters with a single flying pan."
"Four," Sirius corrected. "The fourth one just took longer to fall."
Winky's ears turned pink. "Master's friends are too kind. Winky was just protecting the students."
"Well, you were like a legendary warrior," Arthur said. "Maybe they'll write stories about you after this."
"I could ask Luna to write one for the Quibbler," Harry offered.
"That's actually a good idea," Sirius said with a grin. "Winky's going to be famous."
Winky tried to hide her blush behind a summoned pan, causing everyone to laugh.
Finally, Arthur asked, "Ready to go home?"
Winky nodded eagerly. "Winky would like that. Has been a very long night."
Arthur turned to Harry and Sirius. "Try to get some rest. The political circus starts tomorrow, and you'll need your strength."
"Constant vigilance," Sirius muttered in a passable Moody impression.
With final nods of farewell, Arthur took Winky's hand and Apparated away.
They materialized in the living room of Hayes Manor to find Ariadne pacing by the fireplace. Her usually immaculate appearance was disheveled—hair uncombed, still wearing the same clothes from the previous day. She looked like she hadn't slept at all.
"Winky!" Ariadne rushed forward, relief flooding her features. "You're alright! I was so worried."
"Winky promised she would be fine," the elf said, pleased by the concern. "Winky was extra careful, just like she said."
"She was magnificent," Arthur added. "A proper general, rallying the elf forces against dark wizards." He paused, adopting a wounded expression. "Though I'm hurt—you were only worried about Winky? I was in a worse battle than her."
Ariadne's tension finally eased. She managed a small smile at Winky before glancing at Arthur. "I assumed you could handle yourself. You're the all-powerful wizard, aren't you?"
"Well, yes, but who said I was only fighting wizards?"
Ariadne's expression sharpened. "What?"
"Never mind." Arthur waved dismissively, too exhausted to explain his encounter with Mephisto. "These aren't things you need to know about. Pray you never encounter such beings—they're always bad news."
Before she could press further, Arthur turned toward the stairs. "You two catch up. I desperately need sleep before I collapse where I stand."
He left Ariadne looking confused and concerned, with Winky already beginning to regale her with tales of the battle. As he climbed toward his room, Arthur could hear Winky's excited voice describing how she'd led the charge against the werewolf horde.
His bed had never looked more inviting.