Chapter Text
Hermione Granger Weasley paced the atrium, her boot heels striking sharply against the polished floor.
People streamed past, and many cast glances at the Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but she paid them no mind whatsoever, moving back and forth in quick, agitated strides. Her hair was pinned neatly atop her head, her wizarding suit crisp and immaculate, but her efficient exterior could not conceal her tense and anxious state.
Another set of footsteps approached at a brisk pace. Hermione lifted her head quickly.
"Deputy Director Weasley, ma'am," the newcomer said hurriedly.
It was her Senior Assistant and Policy Adviser, Elia Shafiq — Muggle-born, Ravenclaw, diligent, dependable, intelligent. She was the subordinate Hermione most admired and trusted. Yet at that moment, Hermione could barely contain her impatience.
"Why are you here, Elia?" Hermione demanded in a low voice. "You ought to be at the Goblin Liaison Office! The House-Elf Rights Bill is up for its third reading at eleven. You must represent me there. Gringotts—"
"Yes, I know, ma'am, but it's urgent. I thought you ought to hear it in person—"
"You could have sent a Patronus! I told you I would be in the Ministry—"
"—waiting to intercept Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt. Yes, ma'am. The Minister has ordered the formation of a Standing Review Committee."
Hermione went rigid. "What?"
"Yes, ma'am. Just five minutes ago. As an urgent operational division for Auror discipline oversight. Wizengamot Procedural Adviser Aiden Lestrange has been appointed director." Elia Shafiq spoke rapidly. "They are to open a formal investigation into Auror Potter."
Hermione's expression hardened at once. She drew a deep breath.
Just then, a clatter of footsteps sounded from the direction of the fireplaces. The figure at the front wore purple wizard's robes and a square, star-spangled hat. Kingsley Shacklebolt strode forward, followed by the Minister's Adviser, his niece Dora Shackle, and his Junior Assistant, Lucas Grevy — a Slytherin, fresh out of school.
Hermione marched straight towards him. Kingsley Shacklebolt did not look at her at all, heading determinedly for the lifts to the side. She quickened her pace, and Lucas Grevy extended an arm.
"Touch me, Lucas," Hermione said viciously, "and I shall turn that sleek blond hair of yours pink."
Lucas Grevy snatched his hand back in fright.
Without turning around, Kingsley Shacklebolt said, "Threatening a student, Mrs.Weasley — an excellent example from the Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."
"A graduate. And threat?" Hermione shot back. "Have children grown so soft in peacetime?"
"You do realise you are Hermione Granger Weasley, do you not? War hero? Using your intimidating reputation for convenience — did you learn that from your friends?"
"You cannot investigate Harry Potter!" Hermione cut him off sharply.
Kingsley Shacklebolt did not break his stride. "As a matter of fact, I can. It is called exercising the authority of the Minister for Magic." His tone was utterly flat.
"The order to investigate Harry came down the instant you formed the Review Committee. You could not even wait until the afternoon. What comes next — the Wizengamot dock connected directly to his Floo?"
"You are also aware that Harry Potter's actions have attracted widespread attention. I had thought we at least agreed on that point. I have no wish for this magnificent hall, with its unique historical significance to British wizarding society, to be turned into a press room for the Daily Prophet."
"Harry Potter has been the focus of the wizarding world since he was one year old. He has been a fixture in the newspapers for decades — as the Saviour," Hermione said, planting herself directly in front of Kingsley Shacklebolt and bringing the Minister for Magic to a halt. "He ended the war with his own life. The Ministry ought to protect him, not put him on trial!"
"Investigation, not trial," Kingsley Shacklebolt said in a deep voice. "The Ministry is helping him — from his path of self-destruction. He ought to be grateful for it, and as his friend, so ought you."
"Harry was on mission! He was saving lives!" Hermione's voice rose sharply."He saved all of us! You cannot—!"
"He is endangering other people's lives now." Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice dropped even lower. "Nottinghamshire, Edinburgh, Dover — and Glasgow just a while back."
Hermione's chest was heaving. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut.
"Four times, Weasley. Four. We have already held three hearings for him—"
"Three hearings, and Harry was proven innocent in every one! Nottinghamshire was him taking down eight cursed horned serpents— Edinburgh was Harry uprooting an entire illegal potions smuggling network— Dover—"
"How dare you even mention that to me?"
Kingsley Shacklebolt took a large step forward, closing in on Hermione.
"Nottinghamshire. An Auror trainee on his team had his lung pierced by a horned serpent's tusk—"
"Harry took the next attack on his own body and broke three ribs! Otherwise Chancellor would be dead!"
"When confronted with dangerous magical creatures, you are supposed to request immediate support from the Beast Division. Your Saviour friend ordered his team to press the attack directly—"
"It was an emergency!"
"His Patronus arrived at the Auror Command an hour later." Kingsley Shacklebolt cut her off sharply. "He is Harry Potter. Chief Auror. How could his Patronus possibly have gone wrong?"
"That was clarified in the hearing. As the commanding officer, Harry has the authority to adjust tactics on the ground—"
"Stop interrupting me, Hermione Granger Weasley," Kingsley Shacklebolt all but growled. Hermione's jaw tightened. "Nottinghamshire, pursuing fugitive Death Eaters — Harry Potter deliberately delayed reporting to command and used Confringo to destroy the horned serpents' tusks without authorisation. That is gross misconduct and a flagrant violation of Auror operational regulations. Edinburgh, pursuing the illegal potions smuggling ring — he repeatedly used Legilimency, tortured suspects until they broke, and then altered their memories to make them name the ringleader—"
"That is not true," Hermione said quietly, breathing heavily. "Cassius's memory was muddied by a Confundus Charm, designed to conceal his organiser. Harry was only repairing the memory. And afterwards, it was confirmed that every piece of testimony Harry obtained was truthful. Every single one of those smugglers was proven guilty. His actions were lawful. He simply... did not seek approval."
"Yes. You are the Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. You know the law better than anyone, do you not, Weasley? You know every reasonable application and every loophole." Kingsley Shacklebolt spoke, and Hermione went rigid. "Oh yes. Did you think I did not know? I have been turning a blind eye."
Kingsley Shacklebolt stopped and pinched the bridge of his forehead.
Hermione, too, drew a deep breath.
"I apologise for interrupting you earlier, Minister. Let me say the rest for you. Dover — the rescue of the Muggle Prime Minister from Pureblood supremacist kidnappers. Harry negotiated privately with the captors as a hostage negotiator, exchanged himself for the hostage, and placed a Tracking Charm on his own person."
Kingsley Shacklebolt sighed.
"He knew how dangerous it all was," Hermione said, her voice hoarse. “But he is Harry Potter, so he did it anyway. Just like every time before, just like during the war — he does it to save lives. I know he may have disregarded procedure, but—"
"The war is over, Hermione," Kingsley Shacklebolt said wearily. "Dover. Two of those Pureblood supremacists died because Harry Potter tried to divert the other Aurors' attention and caused a riot. Two Dark wizards' - who might have been key witnesses- their lives ended by Auros' self-defense, which gave Potter the opportunity to go in alone. Harry Potter ended up grievously wounded himself."
Hermione's breathing was unsteady.
Kingsley Shacklebolt continued.
"Glasgow,— the arrest of necromancers in a Muggle cemetery. Harry Potter once again flouted procedure. He bypassed the joint approval process between your department — the Department of Magical Law Enforcement — and the Department of International Magical Co-operation.
"Savage refused his order to mobilise the Hit Wizard strike force and demanded written authorisation. Harry Potter abused his authority and prestige, relieved Savage of his position as tactical commander on the spot, and appointed Proudfoot in his place — knowing full well that Proudfoot had been disciplined two years earlier for using a Category A banned curse. This time, he used Fiendfyre against the necromancers.
"Harry Potter tried to stop him with Finite Incantatem. In the ensuing clash, they broke through the Muggle-Repelling Charms and protective enchantments. Half the city's Muggle residents required Obliviation. And that is to say nothing of the spinal injury that put Harry Potter himself in St Mungo's for three months of rehabilitation. Bombarda blew a hole in his back. He nearly died."
Hermione had gone pale. "Proudfoot acted on his own. The mission succeeded in the end."
But she only murmured it, her voice faint and unsteady.
Kingsley Shacklebolt looked at her with something close to pity.
"Yes. Over thirty Dark wizards were arrested in that operation — every last one of them. The inferi they had created were all handed over and destroyed. Harry Potter made himself the only person who was injured... but the Glasgow mission gravely endangered the International Statute of Secrecy and the safety of every witch and wizard in Britain. Proudfoot is facing trial for using banned curses. You ought to be grateful that Harry Potter did not wake up in St Mungo's with magical restraints on his wrists."
A dead silence fell.
"Harry Potter is angry, impulsive, extreme and headstrong," Kingsley Shacklebolt said heavily. "The war is over, but he has not yet left it behind. Do you know what they call him out there now? Not 'the Saviour'. Not 'the-Boy-Who-Lived'. -'That-Mad-Auror'. You have covered for him time and again. You have protected him, Hermione. Is this what you wanted to see him become?"
The Minister's voice had grown gentler by the end, for as he looked at Hermione, he no longer saw the celebrated war hero, the formidable Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
He saw the girl from years ago, grimy and desperate, yet impossibly brave, doing everything in her power to help her friend escape from Voldemort.
He placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder. She flinched violently, her eyes instantly reddening. She glanced behind them. Kingsley sighed and dismissed the others. They walked towards a different lift.
"Please," Hermione said, her voice already thick with tears when she spoke again. She wrapped her arms around herself, looking deeply unsettled.
"I am begging you, Kingsley. You know Harry, don't you? You have known him since he was a boy. We protected him together. You know what he has been through... The peace we hold now was built on his blood and flesh—"
"Listen," Kingsley said, turning to face her. "I know his intentions are good. But he is growing more and more extreme. That is not good for him. You know that."
"But he—" Hermione began urgently. "Being an Auror is Harry's whole life. It is his purpose — you know what he has lost. His real family. His friends. The family he found later — Sirius, Snape, Remus, Dumbledore... Ron and I have tried to talk to him, or just to spend time with him — go to Hogsmeade, take his mind off things — but he has grown so distant. Oh! Ron and I, we are so worried about him—"
She could not go on. She turned her face away and pressed her hand hard over her mouth. Kingsley was silent.
But Hermione did not allow herself more than a few seconds of vulnerability. She breathed in and out, hard, and wiped her face clean in two or three swift movements.
The lift arrived. She stepped out first, head held high. They walked down the corridor.
"I have a letter written by Albus Dumbledore," Hermione said. Aside from her red-rimmed eyes, she appeared perfectly composed, gazing straight ahead with a flat, steady voice. "As a former Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Dumbledore granted Harry Potter the authority to act as he saw fit. It bears his signature and his seal."
"You are his friend, Hermione," Kingsley said quietly. "Do you truly wish to become an accomplice to his self-destruction?"
Hermione drew a sharp, ragged breath. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut.
"Harry Potter is an exceptional Auror. The Ministry does not wish to lose such remarkable talent. But he is destroying himself," Kingsley said. "We only want to help him. Dumbledore's letter will not stop him from facing an investigation."
"You cannot strip him of his status as an Auror," Hermione said harshly. "He will go berserk."
Kingsley replied, "The worst outcome would only be suspension pending investigation."
Hermione pressed her lips tightly together.
"Medical leave," Hermione corrected. "That will be the public version. Beyond that, no comment to any media outlet. The specific disciplinary outcome will remain between the benches of the Wizengamot."
Kingsley looked at her. Hermione met his gaze steadily. They stopped before a tall set of doors.
"As long as Harry Potter agrees to sign," Kingsley said. "He stays at home during his leave. He accepts—"
"Harry will not withdraw completely from Auror affairs. Make him a trainee instructor for probationary Aurors."
Kingsley rubbed his brow. "Weasley—"
"Minister," Hermione said, crossing her arms and lifting her chin.
Kingsley exhaled sharply.
"Go on," Hermione pressed, sensing her advantage. "You know he is the best there is. Dumbledore's Army — have you forgotten? Harry likes children. He enjoys teaching others, sharing his knowledge and skills. And he has the finest practical experience of anyone."
Kingsley groaned. Hermione smiled.
"No field work," Kingsley said in a tone of finality. "No unauthorised operations. No one feeds him intelligence he wants. No one helps him circumvent oversight. And—"
He drew out the word. Hermione watched him warily.
"Potter will wear a magical monitoring bracelet. The Ministry will know every spell he casts."
Hermione: "That is surveillance!"
Kingsley: "That is protection."
Hermione was furious, her brow furrowed in deep.
Kingsley pushed open the doors. Hermione took a deep breath. The First Judgement Chamber was coldly lit and deeply forbidding, its dimensions enlarged by spatial expansion charms to the height of several storeys. Wizards and witches who had come for the hearing packed the space to capacity. Around the sunken holding dock, the seats of the hearing gallery rose in tier upon tier.
Kingsley raised his voice. "Fellow witches and wizards! The hearing into Auror Harry Potter will commence in twenty minutes."
He walked inside and began conversing with two wizards who approached him: Senior Deputy Minister Adrian Bones, and Aiden Lestrange, Wizengamot Procedural Adviser, henceforth serving as director of the new urgent operational division for Auror discipline oversight.
Lestrange looked over. His cold eyes brought a cruel, cackling woman flashing briefly before Hermione's mind.
Hermione steadied herself and was about to step forward when her subordinate, Legislative Drafting Officer Cecilia Greengrass, drew near, carrying the first draft of the Auror Emergency Powers Limitation Bill.
This restrictive bill had been brought to the table at an emergency session late on the night of the Glasgow mission. Hermione's attention was caught.
Wizards and witches settled into their seats. Many began murmuring among themselves, their glances drifting towards Hermione. Hermione did not look up. She kept turning the pages of the Limitation Bill, speaking with Cecilia Greengrass as she made her way to her seat.
Twenty minutes passed quickly. The holding dock remained empty. The doors stayed shut and silent.
Whispers broke out. Hermione closed the document and looked towards the bench.
Suddenly the doors burst open. She flinched violently. Viola Crumbach — Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt's Private Secretary and Schedule Director — walked in, followed by a tall figure with ginger hair combed back.
Hermione's eyes widened. She immediately looked behind him. The doors swung shut with a heavy thud.
"Sorry. I'm not disturbing anything, am I?" the newcomer said to the witches and wizards seated nearest the doors.
They stared at him with wide eyes and did not answer.
He gave an awkward laugh, pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his brow. His gaze swept the room rapidly, found Hermione, and flashed her a nervous grin. Then he strode up the steps and squeezed his way towards her. "Excuse me. Oof. So sorry."
Cecilia Greengrass was seated to Hermione's left. The witch to Hermione's right immediately began shuffling further along. Hermione reached out, her files balanced on her lap.
"Arthur!" she said in a low voice.
"Hello, Hermione," Arthur Weasley said, taking her hand and giving it a firm squeeze. "Oh, Merlin. What a relief to see you."
"Ron isn't coming, is he?" Hermione asked nervously.
Arthur plopped down beside her. His eyes widened. "No! For Merlin's sake, Rose and I arranged to send him away. Your daughter is remarkably clever for a one year old. Molly and Ron made a great fuss and took her off to St Mungo's." He shook his head. "Even if Molly pulls all my hair out, I was not letting Ron appear here. Hmm-hmm."
"Yes, I would rather not have him thrown out for contempt of court," Hermione said with a bitter smile of her own.
Arthur patted her arm. Their elbows rested together in familiar comfort. Hermione breathed deeply, drawing strength from the presence of family.
"How did you come in with Crumbach?" Hermione asked very quietly. "She was asking you about Harry, wasn't she?"
"No, not at all. We just happened to meet on the way," Arthur replied in a whisper. "She seemed to have just dismissed a Patronus or something of the sort."
He, too, looked unwell. Sweat kept beading on his forehead. He darted a glance towards the front.
Viola Crumbach mounted the bench and leaned close to Kingsley Shacklebolt's ear, speaking to the Minister for Magic. His eyes went wide.
Then he looked over at Hermione.
Hermione frowned. Kingsley then looked at Arthur, who also frowned.
"What?" Arthur muttered. "What do you think they are talking about?"
"I do not know..." Hermione hated saying that.
Viola Crumbach and Kingsley Shacklebolt were still deep in whispered conference. Aiden Lestrange leaned in. He heard something, and his cold expression flickered with surprise. He looked at Hermione, then lowered his voice and joined the discussion. They glanced at Hermione, then at Arthur, their gazes moving between them.
Hermione felt as though she were sitting on hot coals. She cleared her throat, sat up straighter, and looked towards the empty holding dock.
Just as Hermione was about to rise and send out her otter Patronus, Kingsley cleared his throat.
"Auror Potter has been delayed on his way here and will appear shortly," Kingsley announced, his voice echoing through the chamber. "Mrs Hermione Granger Weasley?"
Everyone looked at her.
"Harry Potter has designated you to appear in his place for the hearing."
A rush of warmth flooded Hermione's chest. She rose to her feet. Arthur gave her hand a firm squeeze. She patted his shoulder and walked towards the holding dock, eyes fixed straight ahead.
Kingsley said, "The court summons its first witness: Auror Intelligence Analyst Octavia Bolling."
A side door opened. Hermione straightened her back and took a deep breath.
The disciplinary hearing into Auror Harry Potter had begun.
The great doors burst open halfway through the testimony of the third witness.
Geoffrey Zeller of the Improper Use of Magic Office nearly tripped over his own robes. But no one paid the muttering old man any mind. The doors closed behind the Chief Auror. Harry Potter swept in like a gale of wind. He wore his Auror uniform with his coat over it, looking crisp, efficient and commanding. Beneath his perpetually dishevelled black hair, his green eyes blazed as bright as a Killing Curse.
Hermione shot to her feet.
"Apologies for my lateness, Minister," Harry Potter said clearly, nodding in turn to the members of the bench. "Lestrange."
Kingsley Shacklebolt nodded back. Aiden Lestrange's face remained expressionless, but his gaze circled Harry Potter's face like a vulture, making Hermione's stomach churn.
Harry, however, seemed entirely unconcerned. He looked at Hermione, smiled, and walked towards her.
"Harry," Hermione said in a low voice, striding forward to meet him.
"Hermione," Harry said with a smile. "How are you? I am so sorry."
Hermione only shook her head. She could hardly believe he’s actually smiling, and her heart ached with a bitter-sweet sorrow.
Without a moment's hesitation, she threw her arms around him and pulled him tightly against her. Harry hugged her back just as fiercely, which only made her want to cry all the more.
"Harry, I am so sorry," Hermione whispered. "I have spoken with Kingsley. He says he will not remove you from your Auror post, but there are... conditions. Do not react too strongly, all right? Promise me. I will help you. Many of our fellow wizards and witches will help you."
Just promise me you will not let things become irreparable.
Hermione swallowed those words hard, tense with uncertainty over how Harry might respond. But when she drew back from their embrace, he was smiling at her. "It is all right, Hermione," Harry said with a grin. "Thank you."
Hermione frowned. This was not the reaction she had expected. And what Harry said next surprised her even more.
"I am sorry for the way I have been," he said, pulling a face. Hermione's eyes widened. "Well... for the past few years. For being so distant. I have been terrible, treating you both like that... ignoring you, shouting at you when you were only trying to care... I even missed Rose's first birthday party. Ron is furious with me, isn't he?"
"Oh, Harry, you have no idea," Hermione murmured. "How could you—"
"All right. I have kept all of you waiting long enough," Harry said, squeezing her hand tightly, speaking rapidly. "We will talk after the hearing, yes? I should very much like to have dinner with you both. There is someone I very much want you to meet."
Hermione opened her mouth. Harry gave a smile that lit up his whole face, released her hand, and walked calmly into the holding dock.
"Let us begin," Harry said loudly.
During the hearing that followed, Hermione's attention split in two.
Half of it was on the bench and the witnesses' testimonies. She already knew everything they would say. Nottinghamshire, Edinburgh, Dover, and Glasgow… the missions Harry Potter had undertaken and every dangerous thing he had done — his habitual abuse of authority, excessive force, procedural violations... how they had placed others, and especially himself, in grave danger.
Hermione had been involved in most of the damage control afterwards, either sending her staff to clean up the aftermath, or shouting at Harry herself, or conferring with Kingsley just earlier.
But she remained vigilant over every word spoken, ready to interrupt anyone who might say something that could affect the outcome.
The other half of her attention was on Harry. And Harry looked bored. He appeared not to want to be there at all, utterly unconcerned with what was happening around him.
When Tactical Commander Savage accused Harry Potter of removing him from his post on the spot, and when Margaret Boot, a senior official from the Beast Division, testified that the horned serpent wounds showed clear signs of spell-casting, Harry Potter was studying the patterns on his cuffs.
Golden threads spiralled and climbed across his black sleeves, appearing and disappearing like snakes slithering through a jungle as he moved.
Hermione noticed that the coat he wore was far more elegant than his usual style. Not ostentatiously so, but very refined and sophisticated — full of details Harry would never normally notice. He was even wearing a mocking bird brooch set with emeralds, which made his green eyes gleam all the more brilliantly.
When Eldred Wample, a healer from the Forensic Mental Magic Department, gave his equivocal testimony suggestive of -“…permanent damage to the memory integrity of the suspect is similar to the after-effects of prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus Curse. However, technically, the Chief Auror has not used any Unforgivable Curses" — Harry Potter was gazing up at the ceiling of the chamber, apparently wondering just how high it was, or trying to see whether Dementors lurked behind it.
When Proudfoot argued vehemently, "I saved us all with Fiendfyre!" and the witches and wizards in the gallery erupted in protest, Harry flinched slightly, as though startled from a dream.
And soon, Aiden Lestrange descended from the bench to testify in person. "Chief Auror Harry Potter exposed defensive positions to draw in suspect Dark wizards, diverted his Auror colleagues' attention, and used himself as live bait to advance the mission. He has misused neutral magic, exploited legal loopholes to torture suspects for information, and violated their rights—"
"No!" Hermione and the witches and wizards behind her shot to their feet at once. "No!" they shouted. "Lestrange!" "Lies!" "Slander!"
Lestrange continued without pause.
"—shown contempt for proper process, dismissed a subordinate commander without following procedure, abused his authority, endangered his own life and the lives of others, and squandered Auror rescue resources."
The protests grew louder.
"...acted without authorisation, abandoned his team, caused widespread magical outburst in a Muggle-sensitive area, and committed severe breaches of the Statute of Secrecy. The Auror Operations Emergency Response Centre has therefore determined that Chief Auror Harry Potter must be—"
"Harry Potter is a war hero!"
The cold, summing-up words of the Wizengamot Chief Warlock and Tactical Adviser were instantly drowned out by the roar of the witches and wizards.
"He saved us all!" someone shouted. "He ended Voldemort! He ended the destruction!"
"He has gone mad!" "Dark wizard!" others cried. "He will get us all killed sooner or later!"
The First Judgement Chamber erupted like a volcano, voices clashing with explosive force. The bench shouted for order. Everyone waved their arms, shouts and cries overlapping in a deafening cacophony.
Hermione burned with rage and longed to draw her wand and challenge Lestrange to a duel. But suddenly she noticed Harry in the midst of all this chaos.
Harry said nothing. He rested his chin on his hand, watching the crowd with an expression that was almost amused — a faint, bored smile on his face, as though he found their outrage on his behalf rather entertaining.
Yet he also frowned slightly, as if he did not understand their frenzy, even found it a little irritating — as though he could not sit still any longer and wanted to leave.
"Silence!" Kingsley's voice, magically amplified, boomed over the crowd. "Order! Order!"
Gradually, the noise subsided, though tension still crackled in the air. Most were still standing, eyes blazing with anger.
"This hearing is not a trial," Kingsley announced, "and there will be no vote."
A roar like a tidal wave broke out. Hermione crossed her arms, furious that Harry had to sit here and endure this, yet simultaneously relieved that the vast majority of witches and wizards still supported him. She breathed deeply.
And Harry Potter began examining his fingernails.
Hermione stared at him, perplexed. Harry looked over, spotted her, and immediately broke into a grin, giving her a small wave as though he were just happy to be here. Hermione felt a knot of worry tighten in her chest.
"Given the complexity of the multiple incidents, including the need for institutional improvement, the senior leadership of the Wizengamot has reached a decision regarding the disposition of Auror Commander Harry Potter."
Kingsley said, pressing his wand to his throat. His amplified voice echoed through the towering chamber.
"The Ministry's aim is to maintain order, safeguard the security of the wizarding world, and protect the rights of all witches and wizards — to ignore neither the weak nor indulge the strong, to honour all sacrifice, to ensure that no wizard's contributions are forgotten, and that no magical blood is shed in vain. Every outcome serves the greater good of wizarding society."
The witches and wizards gradually fell silent. Everyone looked towards the bench with urgent anticipation — including Harry Potter.
"Harry Potter will not be stripped of his rank as Chief Auror," Kingsley announced. Hermione let out a vast sigh of relief. She had just begun to sit back down when Kingsley continued.
-"However, in order to maintain law enforcement discipline and regulate the exercise of Auror authority, Harry Potter will be suspended and placed under an indefinite period of observation—"
A roar erupted. Hermione felt dizzy. "No!" she screamed. "No! You cannot do this to him!" Her shrill voice was swallowed by the crowd's furious response.
"—Harry Potter will wear a monitoring bracelet and report to the Ministry at regular intervals." Kingsley pressed on, his Amplified Voice battling against the wizards and witches in their extreme anger or extreme agitation.
"If his conduct proves satisfactory, the Wizengamot will consider reinstating him to duty as a trainee instructor for probationary Aurors. Until then, Harry Potter must not leave London, must not privately engage with any Auror work, and must not undertake any field duties. Any Ministry employee who attempts to pass him information or share classified intelligence will be deemed to have committed a serious disciplinary violation and will be subject to a hearing and sanction in turn."
The crowd was screaming, boiling over. Kingsley shouted, "The decision is final!"
Hermione wanted to charge down there. Her mind was buzzing, her hand already gripping her wand. But she took a deep breath, knowing full well that she could not do it — that it would only land Harry in an even worse position. That very clarity of thought made her pain all the more acute; she could barely breathe.
And then, Harry Potter suddenly stood up.
Everyone looked at him. Even the senior Wizengamot leadership on the bench rose to their feet. Many drew their wands at once. The atmosphere stretched taut as a bowstring.
But Harry Potter extended his hands.
Kingsley stared, frozen. Lestrange, however, waved his wand immediately. Hermione let out a trembling shriek. A pair of metal bracelets flew through the air and locked around Harry Potter's wrists. The spell took effect at once, emitting a golden hum.
Hermione could bear it no longer. She ran down. "No!" she cried furiously. "You cannot treat him like a criminal—"
"Madam!" Kingsley recovered himself. "I must remind you of your duty. You are the Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement—"
"Thank you for reminding me," Hermione snarled. "I am indeed the person in this room most knowledgeable about wizarding law, Minister. I intend to lodge an appeal on behalf of Mr Harry Potter. You have no right—"
"Hermione," Harry said. "It is all right." His voice was light.
"Harry!" Hermione whipped around.
"It is all right," he repeated. "It is a bit dramatic, I grant you. But I really could do with stepping back from all those missions for a while."
Hermione blinked. "What are you talking about?"
Harry laughed. "You have been telling me exactly that for years. I am only repeating your own words. Why do you look as though you think I am ill? Or worse — mental?"
"I did say that," Hermione said, frowning, swallowing the fury that threatened to explode from her. "But that does not mean they can just put you under surveillance like this, and—"
"Hey, this is paid leave," Harry said, almost cheerfully. "You know, I used to be the Saviour. Even with Voldemort dead, quite a few people still bear a grudge against me. The entire Ministry is now my personal free security detail. They will probably count how many times I scream in my nightmares. You could not find better treatment anywhere in the wizarding world. I think I am more exalted than the Muggle Prime Minister — no, than the Muggle Queen."
Hermione opened her mouth, but Harry cut her off again.
"Besides," he said, "I do think I have been rather mad, haven't I? Chasing after Dark wizards, red-eyed night after night, ready to steal a Time-Turner... I hardly knew who I was anymore."
Hermione was left speechless, her heart aching at his words.
"Oh, Harry..." Her eyes stung; she was nearly in tears. "But you're really — you're really all right with this? I thought you would... as you always said, being an Auror was everything to you? Hunting the Dark Wizards down?" Her voice truly broke. "Have you forgotten how hard I tried to talk sense into you? How you said you couldn't find your value anywhere else? Have you forgotten how worried we were about you?"
"No, I haven't forgotten, Hermione," Harry said, looking at her with sorrowful eyes full of emotion. Hermione was both shocked and saddened. "I am sorry for how I behaved. I should not have done that. I should not have treated you both like that, and I certainly should not have treated myself like that. So now here we are."
He gave a small shrug.
"It's just a job. Like you said. I owe myself a life. I ought to focus more on myself and the people who love me."
Hermione was too astonished to speak. She had never thought she would live to see this day. But joy and shock drowned out the fury she had felt only moments before. She stood frozen.
"Honestly," Harry said, as though he wanted to roll his eyes, but he was smiling, "the day finally comes when that stubborn Harry Potter listens to the advice of his best friend — the cleverest witch in the world, Hermione Granger — and she is not even happy about it?"
"I..." Hermione did not know how to respond. "It is just—"
She looked into his eyes now, simultaneously overjoyed and heartbroken to see the genuine mirth there, the playfulness and ease she had missed so much and had feared she would never see again.
"Harry," she said, pulling him into a fierce embrace. "It is just... Harry."
Harry hugged her back tightly, then let her go and turned to face the front.
"May I ask you to perform a Transfiguration Charm?" he said to Lestrange. "On these monitoring bracelets."
"Why?" Lestrange asked warily.
Everyone else had heard what Harry Potter and Hermione Granger had said. The silence in the chamber was absolute — and deeply bewildered.
"Oh, it is just that they are rather crude," Harry said matter-of-factly. "They remind me of my Aunt Petunia's hideous engagement gift. An absolute eyesore. If you want me to wear these long-term, the least you could do is make them tolerable."
A stunned silence followed.
"What would you like them to look like?" Lestrange said.
"Something more pleasant. Less brutish," Harry said very bluntly. "I have no real artistic taste, but surely we can avoid making them look like a pair of manacles. Far too ostentatious — as though I were off to walk some prison-themed runway show for Balenciaga tonight." He blinked. "Oh, that's a Muggle luxury brand. You probably would not know it. Rubbish-bin aesthetics."
Lestrange studied him for a moment, as though trying to determine whether he was up to some trick.
But finally he waved his wand. With a faint twisting sound, the thick, heavy bracelets were transformed into a pair of slender floral circlets, like osmanthus and lilies intertwined.
"A little looser," Harry said. "My wrists are rather sore."
Lestrange flicked his wand at the air. The bracelets slackened slightly. Harry exhaled in relief and rubbed his wrists.
"Add a Permanent Charm," Harry added. "So they do not change back while I am enjoying my bath."
Lestrange glared at him. "You had better not be plotting any tricks, Harry Potter."
"Oh, good heavens," Harry Potter said, his eyes widening in feigned astonishment. "You are the Wizengamot Chief Warlock. Those spells' level are of O.W.L.s. Were you bought into the position? Are you a Malfoy heir because of auntie Bella? Only last month when I was visiting Azkaban, Lucius was still gasping away and snogging Dementors."
"Harry!" Hermione hissed under her breath. Harry turned and winked at her. Hermione laughed out loud, keenly aware of just how much she had missed this — his effortless, sharp-tongued humour.
But she could not help feeling that something was not quite right. How had Harry changed so suddenly? As though the chaos, the bloodshed and the violence of the intervening years had never happened at all?
Lestrange's face had turned an ugly shade of green, but he did as asked. Harry Potter appeared satisfied, looking down to examine his new ‘jewelry’.
"May I take it that you have no objection to the outcome, Auror Potter?" Kingsley began.
"Yeah, yeah," Harry muttered. "When can I sign the paperwork and arrange my handover? I want to go home."
Several times Hermione had been tempted to burst through the door, but she forced herself to hold back.
Nearly two hours later, Harry Potter finally emerged. He looked exhausted, yet there was a smile on his face, as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. When he saw her, his smile grew even brighter.
Hermione walked straight over to him. The door had not fully closed, and she caught sight of Kingsley still inside. She shot him a vicious look that clearly said, We need to talk.
Kingsley's expression was strange. The door shut.
Hermione snorted, grabbed Harry by the arm and marched him into the lift.
"What happened to you?" Hermione demanded in a low voice.
"What do you mean, what happened to me?" Harry looked utterly bewildered.
Hermione gestured vaguely, frustration creeping into her voice. "This! You would never just give up being an Auror. You would never let them monitor you like this!"
"Oh," Harry said, blinking. "I thought I explained it to you in there, Hermione."
"Nothing you said made any sense."
The lift reached the atrium. They stepped out. A few witches and wizards were still about. Hermione pulled him into a corner away from the fireplaces, where the sound of the fountain could mask their conversation. She cast a discreet Muffliato Charm.
"Why?" Harry looked genuinely puzzled. "This is what you have always been telling me, isn't it? I simply came around to the idea. And they are not really monitoring me in that sense. These bracelets only track my location and the spells I cast. If I suddenly Apparated somewhere I've never been before, or started firing off destructive curses repeatedly to defend myself, the Aurors would know something was wrong and come to find me, wouldn't they?"
"Oh," Hermione blinked, "well..."
Harry shrugged," So it's actually a form of protection. I do have a great many enemies. Back when I was just the Boy Who Lived, countless Death Eaters already hated me. Now every Dark wizard in Britain — no, in the world — want me dead."
"That... " Hermione said, taking a moment, "That is actually one way of looking at it."
"Exactly. And it is not as though they are forbidding me from using magic altogether," Harry said. "Besides, I really would like a rest."
"That is precisely it!"
Harry jumped. "What is?"
"You would not just want a rest like that!" Hermione exclaimed. "You are Harry Potter! You are the most stubborn, single-minded creature in the entire world — more obstinate than a house-elf without a stitch of clothing! You cannot simply give up all your — your —" She waved her arms wildly. "All your dangerous exploits, your heedless, headlong courage, your — you are a saint, Harry! You are too good! Always running towards danger! Breaking my heart a hundred times over!"
"Oh. Thank you, I suppose," Harry stammered. "I can't tell whether you want to kiss my cheek or slap it."
"Harry!"
"I understand! So now I am choosing not to do that. Should you not be happy? You have always wanted me to —"
"You never cared what I thought when you had set your mind on something!"
"Hey!" Harry looked offended. "That is not true!" He crossed his arms. "I don't understand why you are angry now. This is supposed to be a good thing."
"It is a good thing, Harry. A good thing I've always dreamt about," Hermione sighed.
Harry looked hurt and tense. She gazed at him with affectionate concern, softening her tone.
"It is only that... you have changed so suddenly. I am worried about you. I am afraid that you—"
"Afraid of what?"
"Afraid that you have been too deeply traumatised?" Hermione said. "Suddenly giving up everything you were so driven to do — that is not normal."
"Well," Harry said, "I suppose I simply don't feel that it's my everything any more."
"All right, then. There must be a reason for it."
Harry suddenly halted.
Hermione did not notice. She kept rattling on. "It is not as though you suddenly— tell me what happened? Did something happen? Otherwise I really have to drag you to St Mungo's psychiatric ward. I am sure they can find an emergency counsellor for the Saviour in the middle of the night."
"Trust me, Hermione," Harry said dryly, "that will not be necessary. I have only just come back from St Mungo's."
Hermione froze for a moment.
"How could I not have thought of that?" Then her face contorted with horror. "How could I have forgotten that you were just hospitalised after Glasgow — the necromancer's attack — the spinal injury — you were unconscious. Did they find residual Dark magic in your body? Or could they not find anything? No, I— no, no, no, I must—"
"Merlin, Hermione, breathe!" Harry grabbed her. "You are about to faint. Breathe. I am fine. I am perfectly fine!"
"Do not lie to me!" Hermione shrieked from somewhere in her throat. She was close to breaking down. Harry began rummaging through his own pockets, searching frantically for something. Hermione stepped back and started pacing wildly. "It all makes sense now — why you have suddenly stopped caring about anything, how you could possibly give up being an Auror. You—"
She spun around. Harry's hand was thrust in front of her face.
Hermione swatted it away in irritation. Harry raised his hand again and began dangling it.
"What are you trying to do — hypnotise me?" Hermione said angrily. Something kept flashing her eyes. "I am telling you, Harry James Potter, you—"
Harry shoved his hand firmly in front of her face. Only then did Hermione's gaze focus on the blinding gleam.
Her mouth fell open.
"What is that? Harry?"
Harry suddenly looked a little shy. He pulled his hand back and tucked it behind him.
"What is that?"
"A ring, obviously," Harry mumbled, instantly seeming to regret it. "I didn't mean to tell you. No one was supposed to know. It was meant to be a surprise—"
"Harry!" Hermione was shocked by the squeal that escaped her. "That is a ring with diamond on it? You are getting married?!"
"Engaged," Harry said with a roll of his eyes. But then he smiled — a truly beautiful smile, his green eyes sparkling. "I am getting engaged, ‘Mione."
"Oh, Harry!" Hermione flung herself at him and hugged him fiercely. Harry laughed. Hermione was laughing and crying all at once, feeling as though she had been transported back to her Hogwarts days. She pulled back. "Wait — when did this happen?"
"Er — just a few days ago—"
"No, I mean — when did you meet her?" Hermione demanded rapidly. "Who is she? Do I know her? Was it her who persuaded you — oh! So when you said you wanted to get back to your own life, to focus on yourself and the people who love you — you meant her! You little git!"
"Actually," Harry said, making a humming sound, "it is a him."
Hermione blinked. Harry nodded matter-of-factly. Hermione smacked his arm hard. "And you are only telling me this now?! You fell in love with a man and you are getting engaged?! Harry! I am your best friend!"
"And Ron," Harry added cheekily.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "He is going to be furious. After he finds out Rose tricked him, the first thing he will do is interrogate Arthur. Then he will be hit with the first bombshell — about Harry Potter — and then a second!"
"Wait — tricked by Rose?"
"Yes — my idea. I told him our daughter was ill. He could not possibly have come to the Wizengamot to sit through your hearing. He would have been shoving dungbombs under the benches. Now he is going to attack you."
They both burst out laughing.
"You cannot tell Ron just yet!" Harry said, still laughing. "Please, 'Mione. This really is meant to be a surprise. I was planning to announce it at dinner — to introduce him to you properly. But then you started loosing it—"
"Wait," Hermione said, unable to suppress her smile. "Dinner? You want the four of us to have dinner together?"
"I mean, yeah," Harry said, nodding eagerly. He was blushing. "You're my best friends. The most important people in my life. And he is the one I love—"
"Oh, Merlin, Harry," Hermione marvelled. "I never thought I would hear those kind of words come out of your mouth."
Harry looked as though he wanted to burrow into the floor. His ears had turned crimson.
"I am so happy for you," Hermione said. "But how could I not have known? We see each other all the time. Is he from the Ministry? You are a workaholic — nothing but missions, one after another."
A few names floated through her mind, but before she could settle on any of them, Harry had already shaken his head in swift denial.
"No. It's no one you know," he said, frowning slightly, as though he disliked her guessing. Hermione was taken aback, but truly, Harry had surprised her so many times today that she should have been used to it by now. "I met him after I was discharged from St Mungo's."
"You went to Hogsmeade?" Hermione was even more astonished. Harry had never — since becoming an Auror — wait. She frowned. "Hold on. You said discharged. I received the notice from St Mungo's at the end of last month. They told me—"
"Yes," Harry nodded. "Well, yes and no. They told me to rest at home and wait for further instructions. I had nothing to do, so I wandered the streets and went into a café.- Not any of Hogsmeade, it's just a normal street in London," He smiled at the memory. "I was upset and distracted, and bumped into him, spilled my coffee all over his suit. That is how we met."
"This month is not even over yet." Hermione's heart sank. "You mean to say you have known this man for barely three weeks — and you have already decided to marry him?"
Harry frowned. "Is something wrong with that?"
"Wrong with it? I cannot believe this! What happened to you? He could be a recently released ex-convict. He could be any Dark wizard who hates you or is hunting you because of your fame. He could—"
"No," Harry said firmly. "He couldn't be that kind of person."
"You do not know that! You have only known him for such a short time!"
"It feels like I have known him my whole life." Harry looked offended. "You have not even met him, Hermione. Do you not think you are being rather full-of-yourself?"
Hermione was incensed. She pointed her wand at Harry. "Finite Incantatem!"
Harry's eyes widened. "Hermione!" he exclaimed angrily. "He has not hexed me!"
Hermione ignored him and tried to grab his wrist. Harry stepped back several paces at once.
"Come with me to St Mungo's. Now!" Hermione said urgently. "He may have given you some kind of potion—"
"He has not put a spell on me or drugged me! Hermione!" Harry had reached the end of his patience. "He is a Muggle!"
Hermione froze. "A Muggle?" she said quietly.
"Why's that so surprising to you?" Harry blurted out. Hermione flinched. Harry squeezed his eyes shut tightly.
"I'm sorry! You know I did not mean it that way. You know my own mother was Muggle-born. And now the person I love is a Muggle. It is just—" He cried out in frustration. "I don't understand! Shouldn't you be happy for me? Why are you interrogating me like Kingsley and the others?"
"Kingsley?" Hermione repeated. "How do they know? When did this happen? Have they been monitoring you already?" Another possibility occurred to her. "Harry! That man could be a spy the Ministry sent to watch you. He could—"
"He is no one's spy!" Harry shouted. "I told Viola Crumbach. I sent a Patronus to say I would be late because I was accompanying my fiancé to look at churches. He became a bit sad and emotional by the scene I guess, I'm not sure, but I did not want to leave him right away. That's how they knew it ahead of you."
"Do you not see anything wrong with this, Harry?" Hermione said. "You have known him for only three weeks, and you are already lightheaded with it. Today was so important to you—"
"What was so important about it?" Harry asked sharply. "A job that has already decided I am a liability? A group of people who were supposed to trust me — who are supposed to be my family — who have already decided I am a criminal?"
"Harry! No one thinks that!" Hermione begged. "Please. Come with me. This is not how you should be like."
"You're the one who should not be like this, Hermione," Harry said, shaking his head. He kept backing away, "You should be happy for me. But you're just like the rest of them."
"What?"
"You think there is something wrong with me." Harry was trembling slightly, his jaw set tight. He strode towards the exit.
"No!" Hermione hurried after him. "Harry, listen to me—"
"Stay back!" Harry spun to face her, his back to the fireplaces. His wand was already in his hand. They stood panting, staring at each other. "Stay back."
Hermione opened her mouth, desperate.
"I thought you would be different. I thought you would—" Harry stopped. "Do you want to know why I gave up everything I built so willingly? Why I let them push me around?"
The atrium had gone so quiet that a dropped pin could have been heard.
"Because I knew this would be the last time. I'm tired of being the special one in everyone's eyes. It's not a good thing, really — whether they call me the Saviour or a madman. Do you know why I fell in love with a Muggle?"
Hermione's lips trembled.
"Because he does not remind me of any of this," Harry said, almost desperate, yet filled with such hope. "Because when he looks at me, he does not see the Saviour. He does not see the Chief Auror. He does not see the poor, tragic boy. He only knows me — Harry. He only sees me."
He lunged into the fireplace and vanished in a swirl of green flames.
Hermione burst into tears, nearly collapsing to the floor. She ran into the same fireplace Harry had used. He was just ahead of her, but the crowd blocked their path.
Outside, the sun was already setting. The streets were bustling with traffic. Hermione pursued the back of Harry's head relentlessly. He dashed across street. The signal light turned red before her eyes. Cars roared past, cutting her off. Someone grabbed her by the elbow and yanked her back onto the pavement.
"Hey, lady! Are you all right?" "That was close!"
Hermione could neither hear nor register the concern and surprise of the passers-by. Through the traffic, Harry was hurrying down the street towards a car parked with its hazard lights flashing.
A black car with a sleek, polished finish. A man in black was leaning against it — tall, dark-haired, an outstretched hand towards Harry. Harry threw himself into his arms. The man turned his face slightly, the sunlight sliding down the bridge of his greek nose, a curl of black hair falling across his smooth, broad forehead. He cupped Harry's face with one hand, lifting it from where it was buried in the crook of his neck, and murmured something. Harry shook his head, and tilted his chin up to press his lips against the man's lips.
A passing double-decker bus blocked Hermione's view. She immediately started walking in the opposite direction.
When she could see clearly again, Harry was already in the passenger seat. The man closed the passenger door, walked around the car towards the driver's side, and Hermione saw his full face for the first time.
The golden light of the setting sun illuminated features like a Greek statue — classically handsome, with a brooding, melancholy quality. An incomparable, breathtakingly beautiful face, yet utterly unfamiliar.
Hermione was certain she had never seen this man in her life.
But when his eyes met hers, a cold sense of recognition slithered through her stomach like a snake, coiling up through her windpipe and into her throat.
For a moment, she could not breathe at all.
Then the stranger gave her a most charming smile. Hermione took a step back. The man slid into the driver's seat. The blurry figure of Harry in the passenger seat eagerly pulled him close. The man closed the car door behind and leaned over. In the narrowing gap before it shut, Hermione saw him kiss Harry's parted lips once more.
"What happened?"
Harry did not respond. The hand that had been gently stroking his hair tightened slightly and pulled him back a little.
"No..." Harry let out a muffled groan. The man pressed against him with a soft laugh, the silken sound of it rumbling through his own chest.
The hand loosened. Harry pressed himself closer, his parted lips meeting the man's once more, his tongue eagerly slipping into the man's mouth. "Touch me," he murmured, turning his head as he kissed him.
"You know what to do," the man said, a smile in his voice.
"Please," Harry said at once. "Please, please, please—"
The man's hand found his face. The moment their skin touched, a warm current of electricity shot swiftly down Harry's spine, making him tremble all over. That terrible emptiness was finally filled by the man's warmth. Harry was so overcome he nearly wept.
"I missed you," he murmured, throwing his arms around the man's neck and lifting himself, trying to climb into the other man's lap—
"Harry." He was held in place. A hand wrapped loosely around his throat. "You are crying." The pad of the man's thumb brushed gently beneath his eyes. Harry only now realised how damp they were. "Tell me what happened."
"I just missed you so much," Harry said thickly, leaning in again.
"No," the man said to him. "I saw you running out... You looked very upset." His thumb pressed against Harry's bobbing Adam's apple. "Tell me."
Harry stopped, dissatisfied.
"Oh," he said, frowning as he cast his mind back without much care. A woman's face flashed briefly — Hermione. Her anxious face, her sad brown eyes. In an instant, that hollow feeling returned, like a silent wind tearing a vast black hole through his chest. Harry grimaced uncomfortably—
"Harry." The gentle, cool voice interrupted him.
He blinked. The man's dark eyes reflected his own image back at him. He was gazing at him, his eyes full of nothing but Harry.
Everything else vanished in that moment. There was only the two of them. A hand cradled his face, stroking him tenderly.
"It's nothing," Harry said, his voice distant yet eager. "I don't remember. And if I don't remember, then it cannot matter, can it?"
The man studied him carefully.
"Yes," the man said, smiling at him.
Harry smiled back and leaned in to kiss those lips again, but his neck was caught by circling fingers, held in place.
"I think I was merely concerned. You seemed distracted."
"No," Harry said at once, frowning. "How could I be?"
His gaze drifted restlessly, fervently devouring the man's eyes and lips as though they were precious jewels.
"I‘m perfectly fine. My mind has been here the whole time," Harry murmured rapidly, his fingers curling around the man's wrist. "As long as you’re here. I swear it."
The man laughed, clearly amused. He looked so handsome, his eyes as pure and cold as obsidian. Harry was utterly bewitched. This time, he got his wish and kissed the man's lips.
"I do not like seeing you cry," the man said softly against his mouth. "Or smile... when the cause is not me."
"There’s no such thing," Harry murmured, the wet sounds of their kissing filling the space between them. "Can you be quiet? ‘M trying to kiss you properly."
"So it is over, then?" the man asked. "You don‘t have to go back to work?"
"Yeah," Harry said, delighted. "Yes, yes. I want to go home with you. I don’t want to leave you ever again."
The man stroked his face. "Good."
They kissed, fingers tangled in hair and circling throats. Harry sighed with contentment.
"Let’s go home," the man said. He took Harry's hand, raised it to his lips and kissed it. Harry nodded earnestly, smiling with happiness.
The man sat back in the driver's seat and faced forward. Harry, however, did not turn away. He stared at the man without blinking, the streetlights blurring in his peripheral vision, the world fading away around him.
His eyes held only him. Nothing else mattered.