After lunch on Sunday, Harry and Draco flooed to Potter Manor. Harry quickly wrote the address of Cornwall Manor on a sheet of parchment and handed it to Draco.
"Burn it once you've read it," Harry instructed firmly.
Draco gave him a withering look. "I know, Potter."
Harry ignored his tone. "Once I cast the charm on your mark, go straight to Cornwall Manor. Don't leave it for any reason until I come to retrieve you."
"Fine," Draco muttered, clearly irritated, though he didn't argue further.
They flooed directly into Amelia's office to bypass the Ministry's wand and dark mark checks. As they stepped out of the green flames, they found the room already bustling with activity. Rufus Scrimgeour, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and roughly 15 other Aurors Harry didn't recognise were present. The room fell silent as soon as they noticed him.
Amelia approached briskly, planting a brief, soft kiss on Harry's lips before pulling him and Draco over to her desk.
"I've got 15 teams of 10 Aurors ready," Amelia explained in a clear, focused voice. "We've also got about 30 on standby to escort captured Death Eaters to temporary cells. That way, the strike teams can head back out as quickly as possible."
Harry nodded, impressed. "Good plan."
Amelia turned to address the lead Aurors, now gathered and awaiting their orders. Her sharp gaze swept over them. "Alright, listen up! The head of the Floo Oversight Department owes me a favour. He'll be shutting down the entire Floo Network for exactly 30 minutes under the pretence of maintenance. That's all the time we've got to bring in as many Death Eaters as possible. Remember—once you arrive, put up anti-Portkey and anti-Apparition wards immediately . We cannot let them escape."
The room echoed with nods and murmurs of understanding as the Aurors dispersed to prepare their teams.
Amelia turned back to Harry. "Ready when you are."
"Draco?" Harry said, gesturing for him to reveal his arm.
Draco rolled up his sleeve reluctantly, exposing the dark mark etched into his pale skin. Harry could feel the weight of the Aurors' stares, heavy with suspicion, but one hard look from Amelia quelled any murmured dissent.
Harry gave Draco a small, reassuring nod before placing his wand against the mark. "Contactus Aegrogum Semita," he murmured.
The dark mark flared briefly, and within seconds, Amelia let out a small gasp as tiny black dots began appearing on the enchanted map she held.
"That's it," Harry said quietly, stepping back. He turned to Draco. "Go."
Without another word, Draco disappeared into the Floo flames.
Amelia scanned the map quickly and began giving orders. "Group One—Nott Manor. Group Two—Parkinson Estate. Group Three—the Carrows' shack." She continued down the list, dispatching each team to their respective targets with calm precision.
Once the last team had left, Amelia exhaled, clearly energised by the momentum. Harry smiled faintly. "I'll leave you to it, love. I've got a lot of studying to do."
Amelia nodded distractedly, still focused on the map. "Tell Hermione she's a genius."
Harry grinned cheekily. "Should I give her a kiss as well?"
Amelia rolled her eyes but smirked. "Just go. I'll stop by your quarters later to let you know how it went."
With a final kiss, Harry left, flooding back to Potter Manor.
Late that night, Harry was sitting in his quarters, half-heartedly reviewing his Transfiguration notes, when Amelia stepped out of the fireplace. Her face was flushed with excitement, and before he could even ask how it had gone, she grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the bedroom.
From her chair in the corner, Hermione looked up, startled and blushing. Quickly gathering her things, she slipped out of the room unnoticed, knowing full well they wouldn't be re-emerging anytime soon.
Afterward, Harry lay beside Amelia, their skin damp and breaths still uneven. He turned his head to kiss her gently. "I take it things went well?"
Amelia grinned, her eyes bright. "Better than I hoped. We brought in nearly a hundred Death Eaters before the Floo reopened. After that, they started moving too quickly for us to catch them all."
"Still impressive," Harry said, his tone warm with admiration. "Any casualties?"
"None on our side," Amelia replied proudly. "We're monitoring the map around the clock now. If any new dots appear, we'll send out a team immediately. I figure we'll let the ones who escaped tonight settle into a false sense of security before we strike again."
Harry nodded thoughtfully. "The fewer forces Voldemort has left when Snape brings me in, the better."
"Exactly." Amelia curled into his side, resting her head on his chest. "It's unlikely, but if we can whittle his numbers down enough, we might just overpower whoever's left. Either way, we're making progress."
Harry ran a hand soothingly down her back. "We'll finish this soon. I promise."
Amelia looked up at him, a glint of determination in her eyes. "I know we will."
Content, Harry pressed a kiss to her hair and pulled her closer. For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to believe that victory wasn't just possible—it was inevitable.
o – o – o – o – o
Over the next two weeks, Harry barely saw Amelia. She practically lived at the Ministry, coordinating raids and overseeing interrogations. Each time he did see her, she seemed more tired than before, her energy frayed, and her patience shorter. Harry couldn't help but worry. She was pushing herself too hard, and worse, she often seemed grumpy with him, though he had no idea what he'd done wrong.
The day before Harry planned to present himself to Voldemort, Amelia appeared in his quarters unannounced. Relief flooded through him at the sight of her, but his smile faltered when he noticed how pale and fatigued she looked. The dark circles beneath her eyes were stark against her fair skin.
"Amelia, you need to rest," Harry said gently as they settled onto the sofa together.
She waved him off with a tired smile. "I just wanted to spend some time with you before tomorrow. I'm fine."
But Harry wasn't convinced.
The next morning, Harry was jolted awake by the sound of Amelia rushing to the bathroom. Alarmed, he quickly pulled on a pair of trousers and followed her. He found her on the floor, hunched over the toilet, her shoulders trembling as she threw up.
"Amelia?" Harry said softly as he knelt beside her. He gathered her hair back and rubbed gentle circles on her back. "Are you okay?"
Amelia pulled away from the toilet, looking pale and shaken. "I—I think so," she murmured weakly.
But before Harry could respond, her eyes rolled back, and she slumped forward.
"Amelia!" he shouted, catching her before she hit the floor. Heart pounding, he scooped her up into his arms and rushed toward the hospital wing.
"Madam Pomfrey!" Harry called urgently as he entered, his voice echoing through the quiet ward. "Please, I don't know what's wrong. She was throwing up, and then she just passed out."
Madam Pomfrey appeared in seconds, her face sharp with focus as she hurried to them. "Lay her here, Mr. Potter," she instructed, pointing to the nearest bed.
Harry gently placed Amelia down and stepped back, running a hand through his hair nervously as Madam Pomfrey waved her wand over Amelia's still form. A shimmering light hovered over her body as the diagnostic spell worked.
"She's completely exhausted, dehydrated, and undernourished," Madam Pomfrey said sternly, her tone half reproach and half concern. "Clearly, she hasn't been eating properly or resting. She's been overdoing it, but she'll be fine with some care."
Harry let out a shaky breath of relief—until Madam Pomfrey smiled brightly and added, "And the baby seems to be fine as well."
Harry blinked. "The baby?"
Madam Pomfrey turned to him, beaming. "Yes, Mr. Potter. Amelia is pregnant. About five or six weeks along, I'd say."
"Pregnant?" Harry echoed in amazement, dropping into the chair beside the bed as the word sank in. His gaze fell on Amelia's still face, a mixture of awe and disbelief spreading across his features.
"I'll give her a nutritional supplement and a hydration potion," Madam Pomfrey said kindly. "She should wake soon."
Harry nodded numbly, his mind spinning.
About half an hour later, Amelia's eyes fluttered open, her expression groggy and confused. "Where are we?" she mumbled.
"In the hospital wing," Harry answered softly, taking her hand in his.
Amelia frowned faintly, looking around. "What happened?"
"You were sick, and then you passed out," Harry explained gently, squeezing her hand. "You scared me."
"I did?" she said, frowning in concern.
Harry nodded, his expression turning serious. "Madam Pomfrey says you've been pushing yourself too hard. You're exhausted, Amelia. And that's not all."
"What do you mean?"
Harry smiled softly, his green eyes bright. "You're pregnant, Amelia."
Her eyes widened, her lips parting as she gasped softly. "What?"
"You're pregnant," Harry repeated, his voice warm with quiet joy.
Amelia's hand instinctively pressed against her stomach, her expression shifting to awe as tears pooled in her eyes. "We're… we're going to have a baby?"
Harry nodded, his smile widening. "Yes, we are."
A tear slipped down her cheek as she whispered, "I can't believe it."
Harry brushed the tear away with his thumb, his tone turning gentle but firm. "Which is why you're not coming with me tonight."
Amelia blinked, her brows furrowing in confusion. "What?"
"You need to sit this one out, Amelia," Harry said seriously. "You've done so much already—you helped bring in nearly all the Death Eaters. The Aurors can handle what's left. Let me finish this."
"Harry—"
He shook his head, cutting her off. "If you're there, with our baby, I'll be too distracted. I can't risk that. Bad things happen when I lose focus, Amelia, and I won't let anything happen to you or the baby. Please—don't push me on this."
Amelia's face softened as she looked at him, seeing the quiet determination in his eyes. She sighed, reluctant but understanding. "I don't like it," she admitted quietly. "But I understand."
"Promise me," she added after a pause, her voice low and steady, "that as soon as you finish Tom, you'll leave. Don't stay to clean up. Let the Aurors handle it."
"I promise," Harry said firmly.
Amelia nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Good."
Harry leaned down and kissed her softly, his hand still holding hers. For a brief moment, the world outside didn't matter.
O – o – o – o
As soon as Madam Pomfrey saw that Amelia was awake, she handed her a replenishing potion followed by a pepper-up potion, then sent them on their way. Harry and Amelia walked back to his quarters hand in hand, the tension from earlier lifting slightly with each step. Once inside, they spent the rest of the day relaxing on the sofa, snogging softly while Harry constantly fussed over her.
"Are you feeling okay? Do you need anything?" Harry asked for what must have been the tenth time.
Amelia gave him an exasperated smile. "Harry, I'm fine. Really." She shifted closer, placing a reassuring hand on his cheek. "How about I promise to tell you if something changes or if I need anything, and you can stop asking?"
Harry pouted dramatically, but Amelia laughed, leaning in to kiss the expression away.
After dinner, Amelia headed to the Ministry to ensure the Aurors were ready. She gave them final instructions, emphasising that Snape was on their side and would help Harry infiltrate Voldemort's lair. "Under no circumstances is Severus Snape to be harmed," she said firmly, walking them through what to expect when they arrived. It was critical they knew how to respond once Harry summoned them.
Harry waited an hour, giving Amelia enough time to organise the Aurors. Then, resolutely, he made his way down to the dungeons. He was surprised by how calm he felt. He thought he might be nervous, but the truth was he was tired—tired of fighting, tired of waiting. It was time to end this.
He knocked loudly on Snape's office door.
"Enter," came Snape's curt voice.
Harry stepped inside and wasn't surprised to find Dumbledore standing there, waiting for him, his expression tense and worried.
"Are you certain about this, Harry?" Albus asked, his voice soft.
"Yes," Harry replied coolly, meeting his gaze without hesitation. "It's the simplest way, and the element of surprise will give me the advantage. I've trained as much as I can. There are only a handful of Death Eaters left. It's time."
Dumbledore sighed deeply, a weary acceptance settling into his features. "Very well. I can see your mind is made up. I shall await news of your safe return."
Harry nodded firmly, and with one last lingering glance, Dumbledore left the room, leaving Harry alone with Snape.
"He asked," Snape said simply, as though sensing Harry's thoughts. "I cannot lie to him."
"Fine," Harry muttered. "Are you ready?"
Snape stepped away from his desk, joining Harry in the middle of the room. "There is something you must understand," he said. "I will need to immobilise you."
Harry frowned suspiciously. "Why?"
"If we walk in there as we are, it will be obvious this is a ploy. Voldemort is no fool. It must appear as though you're being brought in against your will—bound and defenceless—so we can get close enough to him or Nagini."
Harry grimaced, but he couldn't argue with the logic. "Fine."
"You will have to trust me, Potter," Snape said quietly.
Harry raised an eyebrow, skepticism written across his face.
Snape gave a dry chuckle, one that reminded Harry of the awkward dinner with Narcissa. "Fine," Snape said, his smirk fading. With a flick of his wand, he spoke solemnly, "I vow to do my utmost to ensure no harm comes to you during your confrontation with the Dark Lord." A faint shimmer of magic surrounded him as the vow took hold.
Harry blinked, surprised by the gesture. "Why?"
Snape's expression darkened, though his tone was softer than Harry expected. "Narcissa was very clear on her opinion that I have failed in my treatment of you. And she's right—you are not your father."
Harry stared at him, startled. "Are you… apologising?"
Snape arched an eyebrow. "Don't hold your breath, Potter."
Harry smirked, shaking his head. "Didn't expect one."
"Well," Snape said briskly, straightening. "Shall we do this, then?"
"Let's," Harry replied, squaring his shoulders.
Snape rolled up his sleeve and pressed his wand against the dark mark on his forearm. Harry watched as the mark darkened, the snake beginning to slither. Snape's jaw tightened in discomfort, but he said nothing.
"If I tap it again, it will take us to him," Snape explained, his voice tight. "I will immobilise you now and undo the spell once we're in his presence. Ready?"
Harry nodded, his expression hardening.
"Petrificus Totalus," murmured Snape.
Harry's body snapped straight, stiff and immobile, as the spell took hold. Before he could fall, Snape caught him by the arm.
With a final glance at Harry, Snape raised his wand and tapped the mark again.
In an instant, the room vanished, swallowed in a rush of magic and shadow.
When they reappeared, Harry and Snape stood outside a crumbling, abandoned castle. Snape levitated Harry's immobilised body and strode forward as if he owned the place. The cloaked Death Eaters lingering near the entrance glanced up, startled, and stepped aside at Snape's sharp sneer. They were clearly preparing for something, but Snape gave them no mind as he pushed through the group. They all stared at Harry's motionless form with wide eyes before trailing after them like shadows.
Inside, the air was cold and oppressive. The throne room loomed ahead, cavernous and dimly lit. Voldemort sat at its centre in a large, ornate chair, his expression expectant. Snape reached the throne and unceremoniously dropped Harry's body at Voldemort's feet, bowing low as he silently released the immobilisation spell.
"As you commanded, my Lord," Snape drawled smoothly. "The Potter boy."
Voldemort rose from his throne with slow deliberation, crimson eyes gleaming. "You have done well, Severus." He took a step closer, raising his wand, but before he could act a silent, wandless spell was shot in his direction, forcing Voldemort to leap back with a hiss. In the same motion, Harry rolled to his feet, wand raised and ready.
"Snape!" Voldemort's head whipped around, but Snape had already melted into the edges of the crowd, blending with the other Death Eaters. Voldemort snarled, turning his fury back to Harry and firing a barrage of curses in rapid succession.
Harry deflected or dodged each curse with practiced precision, then retaliated with powerful spells of his own.
"Ventus Duo!"
"Transmogrify!"
"Sanguis Atramento!"
Voldemort conjured a shimmering shield, his lip curling into a sneer. "No more baby spells, Harry? I've heard whispers that you'd become a worthy opponent. I didn't dare believe it."
He flicked his wand at the Death Eaters moving to engage. "Stand back. The boy is mine!"
Harry smirked as they circled each other. "Always so sure of yourself, Tom?"
Voldemort's face twisted in rage. "Crucio!"
With a wave of his hand, Harry conjured a thick stone wall that absorbed the curse. He emerged from behind it and fired back in kind. Their duel escalated as dark spells crackled and collided, leaving scorch marks on the floor and sending echoes reverberating through the chamber.
Harry could feel Voldemort's stamina—unnaturally enhanced, likely through dark rituals—pushing him harder. "I need to pace myself," Harry thought. "I can't let this drag on."
From the corner of his eye, Harry noticed a cloaked figure—Snape—slipping into the shadows behind the throne where Nagini was coiled, hidden. Harry knew Voldemort would sense him unless he provided a distraction.
"Avada Kedavra!" Harry shouted, pointing his wand straight at Voldemort. At the same moment, he rolled to the side, putting as much distance as possible between them.
Voldemort cackled, unbothered. "We've discussed this, Harry. You have to mean it. You don't have enough hatred in your heart. You are weak."
"Maybe," Harry shot back, panting. "But it served its purpose."
"What—" Voldemort began, but a strangled, unearthly scream erupted from behind him. Nagini. Voldemort clutched his head, staggering in agony as Harry twisted his ring, and suddenly, the room was flooded with Aurors.
"Severus!" Voldemort roared, his voice cracking with fury. "Get him! Kill him!"
But the Death Eaters were already overwhelmed, struggling to fend off the wave of Aurors. Voldemort's forces were hopelessly outnumbered.
Harry's voice rang out over the chaos. "There's no one left to save you, Tom. No soul containers. No Horcruxes. Just you and me now. Are you ready to die?"
Voldemort's eyes flashed with fury then he fired the Killing Curse again. "Avada Kedavra!"
Harry dodged, conjuring another wall for good measure. "Reducto!"
"Redactum Skullus!"
"Orbis!"
They clashed in a ferocious exchange of spells. Harry drew on everything he'd learned—Charlus' battle magic, transfiguration, and the tactical wisdom of Amelia and Moody—to slowly gain the upper hand.
Voldemort, though powerful, was showing cracks. "You are indeed a worthy opponent," he admitted, his tone laced with bitter amusement. But Harry saw it—the flicker of doubt in his eyes.
"All for you, Tom," Harry said, grinning.
"Stop calling me that!" Voldemort screamed, flinging curse after curse in a desperate attempt to regain control.
With most of the Death Eaters defeated, Aurors turned their attention to Voldemort, bombarding him with spells he couldn't deflect fast enough. Harry pointed his wand at the stone walls he'd conjured earlier.
"Dura Praegrandis!"
The walls rippled and began to shift, morphing into two towering giants of stone.
"Piertotum Locomotor," Harry whispered, and with a low rumble, the giants moved. Voldemort's curses ricocheted harmlessly off their rocky forms as they advanced.
Harry waited for his moment. When Voldemort's shield faltered under the onslaught of Auror spells, Harry watched as he whispered an unknown spell and a small burst of light soared into the air as Voldemort's eyes glazed over. Just then Harry struck. He conjured his whip of fire and lashed it forward, wrapping it around Voldemort's torso. With a swift pull, Voldemort was dragged into the grasp of the nearest giant.
The stone colossus gripped Voldemort, crushing him between its massive hands. Voldemort screamed, his wand slipping from his fingers as his body went limp. Harry flicked his wand, and the giants shattered into millions of tiny stones, leaving Voldemort's bruised, unconscious form sprawled in the rubble.
Harry stepped forward, his wand pointed at Voldemort's chest. The room was silent, save for the crackling of fallen debris. He stood there for a moment, breathing heavily, then exhaled and lowered his wand.
"Kingsley," Harry called.
Kingsley Shacklebolt approached, his gaze fixed in disbelief on the lifeless body of the Dark Lord.
"I promised Amelia I'd leave the cleanup to you," Harry said lightly, binding Voldemort's body with enchanted chains. He bent down, picked up Voldemort's wand, and snapped it cleanly in half.
"Oops," he said with a smirk.
Kingsley rolled his eyes. "Well done, Harry. Go home—we'll take it from here."
"I trust you'll keep him secure," Harry added with a warning look.
"I'll guard him personally," Kingsley promised. "I know just where to take him."
Satisfied, Harry turned to the shadows. "Severus!"
Snape emerged, blood spattered across his robes. "Nagini is dead," he said grimly.
"Let me see your arm," Harry ordered.
Snape hesitated, then relented, rolling up his sleeve to reveal the fading Dark Mark. Harry pointed his wand and whispered a complex incantation in Parseltongue. When the spell ended, the mark had vanished completely.
"It would have killed you when he died," Harry explained.
Snape winced. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"It was leverage, in case I couldn't trust you," Harry replied. "I didn't expect you to make a magical vow."
Snape nodded, the faintest trace of gratitude crossing his face. "Thank you, Potter." Then, with his usual dramatic sweep of his cloak, he turned and disappeared into the shadows.
Harry gave Kingsley a final nod before stepping past the anti-apparition wards and apparating home..
He landed in his study in Potter Manor, the fight finally over. Amelia was waiting for him.
o – o – o – o – o
Amelia gasped in surprise when Harry suddenly appeared in front of her. She had spent the last half hour anxiously pacing the lounge, waiting for his return. Without hesitation, she ran to him, crashing her lips against his in a desperate kiss. When she finally pulled back, her hands came up to cradle his face as she studied him closely.
"You barely have a scratch on you," she said, wide-eyed. "How is that possible?"
Harry shrugged, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "It's easy when it's 30 to 1," he teased, pulling her into another lingering kiss.
"It's done?" Amelia whispered, her words muffled against his chest as he held her close.
"Almost," Harry replied softly. Amelia pulled back to look at him, confusion flickering across her face.
"What do you mean, almost?"
"Shacklebolt has him," Harry explained. "Voldemort's under lock and key in some secret location until you are ready to try him for his crimes."
Amelia blinked in astonishment. "You didn't kill him?"
Harry exhaled deeply and shook his head. "I wanted to. I could have. I almost did," he admitted, his voice low and thoughtful. Then he looked down at her, his expression softening as he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. "But no. I'm perfectly happy leaving the glory to you, Amelia. I mean it. If no one even knew I was there, I'd be fine with that."
"You're serious?" she asked, her tone a mix of awe and curiosity.
Harry nodded, a small smile returning to his face. "I don't want to be 'The Boy Who Killed Voldemort.' I don't want to be the wizarding world's hero anymore. I just want to be Harry Potter-Black-Bones—husband to the most gorgeous redheaded minister—and live a quiet life, far away from the spotlight."
Amelia stared at him for a moment, her heart swelling with love and pride. "I don't think they'll ever leave you alone, Harry," she said gently. "But I'll do my best to keep you out of it, if that's what you want."
"Thank you," Harry murmured, resting his forehead against hers.
They stood there quietly for a long time, wrapped in each other's arms. The weight of the night seemed to melt away, leaving nothing but the two of them. Finally, Amelia pulled back, her eyes shining with excitement.
"A public trial of Voldemort," she said, laughing as the thought took hold. "I never thought I'd see the day."
Harry grinned, but his smile faltered when Amelia's expression turned wicked.
"We'll deal with that tomorrow," she said slyly, tugging him toward the bedroom. "Tonight, your wife requires your full attention."
Harry's eyes widened slightly before a slow smile spread across his face. "Far be it from me to neglect my duties," he murmured, allowing himself to be led away. "But– um - is it safe?" asked Harry nervously. Amelia rolled her eyes as she stopped and turned towards him.
"Harry Potter. You get up to that bedroom right now and make passionate love to me or you will have a very upset pregnant wife to deal with," demanded Amelia.
"Right - well we don't want that," said Harry as he leaned down and picked Amelia up bridal style and carried her the rest of the way to the bedroom. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she pulled his face down for a fierce kiss before he even made it to the stairs.
o – o – o – o – o
The next morning, Amelia slipped out of bed early and quietly headed to the Ministry, leaving a note for Harry to meet her there when he woke up. Once in her office, she sent a quick silver Patronus to Kingsley Shacklebolt, asking him to join her. About half an hour later, a gentle knock announced his arrival.
"Shacklebolt," she greeted as he entered. "I assume the prisoner is secure?"
"Yes, ma'am," Kingsley replied firmly.
"He didn't kill him," Amelia said, the surprise still evident in her voice.
Kingsley nodded, his expression thoughtful. "No, he didn't. I'll admit, I didn't expect us to take him alive."
"Me either." Amelia's tone was nonchalant, but there was a sharp edge beneath it. "Take me to him."
"Ma'am?" Kingsley queried, taken aback.
"Did I stutter?" she replied crisply, fixing him with a pointed look.
"No, ma'am," Kingsley said immediately, stepping forward. He gently grasped her arm and apparated them away. The nausea hit Amelia hard as they reappeared, forcing her to pause and catch her breath.
"Guess I'll be limiting my apparation for a while," she thought wryly as she took in her surroundings. They stood in the dining hall of an abandoned Muggle prison. 'Good choice,' she thought.
"This way, Minister," said Kingsley, leading her out of the hall and down a long, dim corridor. They descended a set of worn stairs, heading deeper into the prison until they reached its lowest level. There, Tonks stood stoically outside a darkened cell.
"You can return to your duties, Nymphadora. Thank you for your assistance," Kingsley said.
Tonks gave them both a respectful nod before heading back up the stairs.
"Did she know who she was guarding?" Amelia asked quietly.
"No," Kingsley replied as he opened the cell door.
Amelia nodded, stepping inside. "Lumos," she whispered.
The soft glow illuminated the cell, and Amelia's breath caught. Voldemort—battered, beaten, and unconscious—lay sprawled on the cold stone floor. He looked near death.
"Wow, Harry really did a number on him," she thought with grim amusement.
"Rennervate," she murmured.
Slowly, Voldemort's eyes fluttered open. Panic flared in them as he darted his gaze around the cell. Amelia watched him curiously as he tried to move—and failed. His eyes were still glazed and he said nothing.
Amelia raised an eyebrow and pointed her wand at him, performing a diagnostic spell.
"You've nearly severed your spinal cord, Tom. It appears you're completely paralysed," she said coolly. "But don't worry. It won't matter for much longer. I imagine you'll be going through the veil soon enough." Her expression darkened. "I'm told someone's very eager to claim that last part of your soul. I came here to get revenge for the suffering you caused my husband by fixating on him all those years. But now… there's really not much left to do, is there?"
Amelia smirked as she conjured a camera, snapping a photo of the broken Dark Lord lying in filth. "Smile," she said dryly. "This is how you'll be remembered, Tom."
She turned briskly on her heel, exiting the cell. Kingsley shut the door behind her with a loud clank.
"I'll see how quickly we can convene the Wizengamot," Amelia told him in a no-nonsense tone. "Expect my Patronus when it's time to bring him to the assembly room."
"As you wish, Minister," Kingsley replied.
Amelia left the prison, apparating straight back to her office. Without delay, she threw some Floo powder into the fireplace and called for Dumbledore. His face appeared almost immediately.
"Amelia, is Harry all right?" Dumbledore asked urgently. "Severus hasn't returned."
"Harry is fine, Albus. Voldemort is in custody, but I have no idea where Severus is," she said matter-of-factly.
Dumbledore's surprise was palpable. "You have Voldemort… alive?"
"I was surprised, too," Amelia admitted. "How soon can we assemble the Wizengamot?"
"The bylaws require at least an hour's notice," Dumbledore explained.
"Let's give them two. We'll start at 9 a.m.," Amelia decided.
"Very well, Minister," Dumbledore agreed. "I'll send out the summons immediately."
"Thank you, Albus." Amelia ended the call and moved to her desk, sending an urgent message to Rita Skeeter.
Come to my office immediately. I have a career-making story for you.
Fifteen minutes later, Rita was knocking at her door.
"Sit," Amelia said firmly, gesturing to the chair. Rita complied, looking eager. Without a word, Amelia handed her the photo.
Rita gasped, her eyes snapping to Amelia. "Is this who I think it is?"
"It is. I'm offering you exclusive access to the trial and execution," Amelia said, her tone steely. "But there are two conditions. One: you'll leave the Quick-Quotes Quill behind. I want facts, not embellishments. Two: you will not inquire about how or by whom he was captured. Speculate if you must, but the details remain secret."
Rita hesitated only briefly before nodding, her excitement barely contained. "Agreed."
"The trial begins at 9 a.m. Don't be late," Amelia said, effectively dismissing her.
Fifteen minutes after Rita left, Harry emerged from the fireplace. Amelia immediately stood and pulled him into a searing kiss.
"The trial will be at 9 a.m.," she murmured when they parted.
Harry nodded, pressing a kiss to her temple.
"It's going to be a very different world without Voldemort and his followers," Amelia said quietly, resting her head against his chest. Then she smiled up at him. "Maybe we should take that honeymoon we've been talking about."
Harry smiled. "I'd like that. I take my NEWTs in a couple of weeks. How about we spend Christmas at Potter Manor and head off in January?"
Amelia's eyes brightened. "That sounds perfect."
They spent the next hour curled on the sofa, discussing their plans—Yule traditions, their honeymoon in Bora Bora—and for the first time in years, Harry felt an incredible weight lift off his shoulders. It felt almost surreal to talk about mundane things without Voldemort looming over them.
At 8:30, they donned their Wizengamot robes and headed to the assembly room. Harry, as Amelia's proxy, now sat at the Bones seat, his nameplate reading Bones-Black-Potter. Amelia stood at her Minister's seat, observing as people filled the room, their conversations buzzing with curiosity.
Albus Dumbledore entered, raising his hands. "All voting members, please take your seats. We will begin shortly."
Amelia rose once the room settled. "Members of the Wizengamot, we are here today for the trial of the self-proclaimed Lord Voldemort."
The silence was deafening. Then chaos erupted as shocked whispers and exclamations filled the air.
"SILENCE!" Dumbledore's voice thundered, restoring order.
Amelia sent a Patronus to Kingsley. Minutes later, he entered, levitating Voldemort—weak and frail—on a stretcher. Gasps rippled through the room as people stared, disbelieving.
The trial proceeded swiftly, Voldemort unable to resist the Veritaserum. He confessed to his name, his crimes, and his ambitions, listing every murder, every horror he'd orchestrated. By the end, many in the room looked sick.
When Amelia called for a guilty vote, every wand in the room rose.
"Sentence?" Dumbledore asked solemnly.
"Death by the veil," Amelia declared.
The wands went up again, sealing his fate.
The chamber was silent as Kingsley escorted Voldemort's gurney to the veil. When the Dark Lord vanished through it, Harry exhaled a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.
As he and Amelia left the Department of Mysteries, hand in hand, Harry knew his life had finally, truly begun.
o – o – o – o – o
The next morning, magical Britain awoke to a Daily Prophet headline they were not expecting:
Minister Potter-Black-Bones Saves Britain: He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named Captured, Tried, and Executed All in the Same Day!
Harry and Amelia sat together at their breakfast table, reading through the article. Amelia set the paper down with a small, satisfied smile.
"Rita actually did a fine job detailing the trial and execution. For once, she stuck to the facts, and the pictures really do speak for themselves," Amelia remarked.
Harry chuckled as he flipped through the article. "True, but her guesses about how Voldemort was captured got progressively more ridiculous as the piece went on. I'm featured in most of her wild scenarios, though they're so outlandish I doubt anyone will believe them." He smirked. "If they do, I'm happy to let them wonder."
Amelia laughed softly, shaking her head. "Let them speculate. It'll only keep them entertained longer."
Two weeks later, Harry and Hermione stood nervously in Professor McGonagall's office.
"Granger, Potter, this is Orville," McGonagall said as she entered, a stern yet reassuring presence. She gestured to an older, balding gentleman in dark robes trailing behind her. "He will be proctoring your NEWT examinations."
Orville gave them both a polite nod. McGonagall guided the trio across the corridor to a classroom already set up with two desks for the students and a large, imposing mahogany desk for the proctor.
"Good luck to you both," she said, giving them an encouraging look before exiting the room.
Hermione and Harry exchanged a quick glance and sat down as Orville settled himself into the proctor's chair.
"You may begin," he instructed calmly.
At his words, the examination booklets appeared before them, and silence fell over the room.
Three gruelling days later, Harry and Hermione collapsed onto the sofas in Harry's quarters, utterly exhausted.
"I don't think I can move for a week," Harry groaned, throwing an arm over his face.
Hermione let out a soft laugh. "At least it's over. I think I wrote so much I've permanently damaged my hand."
After a moment of quiet, Harry turned his head to look at her. "What are you going to do now, Hermione?"
"I'm not entirely sure," she admitted. "I've thought about working towards a mastery with Flitwick in Charms, or maybe Transfiguration, or perhaps—"
Harry cut her off with a laugh. "You sound like you're planning to master everything, Hermione."
Before Hermione could respond, Amelia stepped gracefully out of the fireplace, looking entirely at ease.
"Hello, Minister," Hermione said politely, sitting up straighter.
Amelia smiled warmly. "Hermione, you're my husband's best friend. Please, when we're in private, call me Amelia."
Hermione nodded, visibly pleased. Amelia walked over and handed Hermione an envelope, then made her way to the sofa, sitting beside Harry.
Hermione glanced curiously at the envelope before opening it. Her eyes widened as she read the official decree inside.
"It's an appointment naming you my new Senior Undersecretary," Amelia explained smoothly. "If you'll take the position, of course."
Hermione's jaw dropped. "What? Really?"
Amelia nodded. "Yes. You truly are the brightest witch of your generation, Hermione, and I could use someone with your skills and work ethic to help me rebuild the Ministry. Departments have been left to their own devices for far too long, and the lack of structure has caused chaos. We need organisation, reform, and competent leadership. You're one of a very short list of people I trust to get it done."
Hermione stared at her in stunned silence for a moment, then a broad smile spread across her face. "Absolutely. Yes. I'd be honoured."
"Wonderful," Amelia said, clearly pleased. "And if you decide to pursue a mastery in the future, we can work out a flexible schedule. Harry will be here part-time as well, a couple of days a week working with Professor Babbling on his Ancient Runes mastery."
Hermione nodded enthusiastically, already brimming with ideas. "Thank you, Amelia. I won't let you down."
"I know you won't," Amelia replied confidently.
The three of them spent the rest of the evening in pleasant conversation, discussing plans for the holidays and their respective futures. For the first time in a long time, it felt as though the world had settled into something calm and hopeful.
As curfew approached, Hermione stretched and stood, smiling. "Goodnight, Harry. Goodnight, Amelia. Thank you again."
"Goodnight, Hermione," they both replied warmly as she left through the Floo.
Once they were alone, Amelia turned to Harry with a teasing smile. "Your friend will have my office running like clockwork in no time."
Harry grinned. "I'd expect nothing less."
With that, Amelia took Harry's hand, pulling him to his feet. "Now, let's go to bed. You've earned it."
Smiling, Harry followed her, the two of them finally feeling like they were standing at the edge of a brighter, Voldemort-free future.