Author's Note: (1) I posted this story a few years ago under my old pen name, but later deleted it. Now I'm posting it again. (2) This is the last chapter. Thanks for reading.

Now that Voldemort knew Harry was still alive, he and his friends needed a safe place to hold up, and with its ancient wards the Veela Enclave certainly was safe. It was also beautiful. The secluded alpine valley high in the Pyrenees Mountains was basically a giant garden filling with a picturesque mixture of magical plants and animals. There was even a unicorn herd, which strangely enough made it feel like home.

Meanwhile the steep mountains surrounding the green valley floor were honeycombed with a vast network of linked caverns. These individuals caverns all had stunning frescos painted on the walls and ceilings, while detailed mosaics covered the stone floors. Elaborate water fountains and towering marble statues were also a common sight, and every piece of furniture was a hand-crafted masterpiece. After centuries of effort the Enclave was close to perfect as the Veela could make it.

The local population was a bit of a shock though. When Harry arrived he was expecting to see hundreds of Veela, and he certainly did. They ranged from tiny witches younger than Gabrielle to ancient crones who were so fragile they had to move around on floating thrones, and every age in between. What he wasn't expecting were slaves, who also numbered in the hundreds. All around the large vaulting cavern that acted as the Enclave's public square Harry saw people wearing those odd metal collars

One of the slaves in particular caused Hermione to explode in anger. "What is Professor Weasley doing wearing that bloody thing around his neck?"

"He betrayed Lord Dionysus to Albus Dumbledore, and placed the lives of over a hundred Veela at risk," Fleur explained as she eyed the muggleborn witch with disdain. "That collar is his punishment."

"But slavery is barbaric!"

"Would you prefer we him put to death? Consigning such a talented young wizard to an early grave... that would be barbaric. Instead William like put his considerable talents to use serving Lord Dionysus and the Enclave."

"All these slaves have committed crimes against the Veela?" Harry asked.

Fleur nodded. "Murderers, rapists, and thieves—every last one of them."

"My Lord, do you object to our ancient traditions?" Apolline asked carefully.

Harry thought about for a moment. He needed the Veela, so now was not the time to start a social revolution. "No, I have no objections."

Hermione was seconds away from losing it again, so he shot her a nasty glare. He would explain the political situation to her at some point, but now he had more pressing problems to deal with.

Problems like Sirius Black, the godfather Harry had exiled.

Even the recent birth of his son James Pyxis Black hadn't improved the wizard's attitude, and he picked a fight with his godson about Remus Lupin's death five minutes after they arrived at the Enclave. Luckily Harry and Apolline had already cooked-up an idea that would get him back to the United Kingdom before Black could do anything rash.

After a quick meal they all gathered in the Enclave's large Map Room. As the name suggested, the room was full of maps. Gorgeous, hand-painted maps that dated from dawn of recorded history right up to the detailed satellite photos of the present day. They all gathered around a modern map of Western Europe which Apolline was levitating in the air. Luna sat on Harry's lap, and he was flanked by his three broodmares. Tonks was on the other side of the room, trying to calm down her irate older cousin.

"Have any of you ever hear of the muggle's Underground Railroad?" the Veela Strategos asked.

Hermione immediately raised her hand like a good Ravenclaw.

"Granger, this isn't Hogwarts," Su said in exasperation. "Just tell us what you know."

"The Underground Railroad was a series of secret routes and safe houses used by African slaves in the United States of America to escape from bondage before the outbreak of their Civil War during the ninetieth century," Hermione explained in a single breath.

Padma was so impressed with this answer she kissed Hermione on the cheek. Harry and Luna agreed that her performance was adorable, but Su just rolled her eyes.

"Are you suggesting that we smuggle the muggleborn and half-bloods out of the United Kingdom?" Black guessed. "What about the wards the Ministry of Magic has in place to prevent international travel?"

"Lord Dionysus ordered me to make a study of those wards during our time in the Forbidden Forest. While they are extensive, they are not without subtle flaws," Apolline explained. "Flaws that we can exploit until Voldemort gets around to correcting them. Something I doubt he will have time for as he consolidates his power over your Ministry of Magic."

"There are almost thirty thousand wizards and witches living in the UK. Realistically how many can we hope to help?" Tonks asked.

"As many we possible can," Harry declared. "Voldemort can no longer hide in the shadows. When people see him for the monster he really is, I'm sure they will want a way out."

Black still looked skeptical. "That sounds very noble, but you have no idea how conservative most wizards are. If they didn't leave during the last war, then I doubt they will leave now. No matter how awful Voldemort might seem to you or me."

Harry looked around at his five witches. Taking this next step was going have terrible consequences for both them and for his future children—if he lived long enough to have any. But he didn't see any real alternatives at this point.

"They will if I start spreading the holy word of Dionysus. In person."

"Oh really... my Lord?" Su remarked dryly.

"Don't be sarcastic," Harry snapped. "This isn't the time for it."

"I'm not being sarcastic. I thought we came here to the Enclave to keep you alive."

"No, we came here so Hermione, Tonks, and Luna would be safe. I wasn't worried about you and Padma, since I thought you both be in Asia by now. Besides, hiding here behind the Veela wouldn't help us get rid of Voldemort. I don't want to spend the rest of my life under a death sentence, and that means one of us has to go."

Su tried again. "Even so, I thought you didn't like being a religious leader."

"I hate it, but my message is very benign when compared to other religions. The only thing I ask of my would-be followers is that they leave everyone else alone."

"If It Harms None, Do What You Will," Apolline recited in a reverent tone.

"He is right," Padma said reluctantly. "If we spread a positive message of peaceful coexistence, it is sure to undermine Voldemort's authority with the public in the long-term. But what about the short-term? How do you plan to get this new underground railroad of yours started?"

Harry grinned. "We are going to piss Voldemort off, and then he will do the job for us."

Harry, a very angry Professor Weasley, and twenty élite Veela warriors under Apolline's personal command took a Portkey back to the United Kingdom during the middle of the night. After they reached their destination of Ottery St. Catchpole, they assembled a camouflaged observation post only a few hundred meters away from the Weasley's ramshackle home. The small village in Devon was home to several other magical families—including the Diggorys and the Fawcetts—but Harry was betting the Weasleys would be the first target. The clan of gingers were notorious for their support of Albus Dumbledore and his anti-Voldeomrt ideology.

"It looks like the Death Eaters have finally arrived to terrorize my family," Weasley whispered as he studied Burrow through a pair of high-quality Omnioculars. "I count eight of them in total."

"I agree," Apolline added as she looked through her own pair of Omnioculars. "But only one of them is a trained warrior, while the others seem to be new recruits. Voldemort must be stretched very thin if he is sending untrained child out on missions like this one."

"Good, then it's time to take advantage of his mistake," Harry whispered. "Kill them."

After the Veela disappeared beneath their invisibility cloaks, he turned to Weasley. "Once they are done we're going to send the bodies of the Death Eaters back to the Ministry of Magic."

"That's just bloody great. Once Voldemort finds out that happened he will torture every wizard and witch in Ottery St. Catchpole—and my family will be at the top of his list. Then the sick bastard will burn the entire village to the ground," Weasley snarled. "You are dead, Potter. Do you hear me? Dead."

"If you even try to hurt me that collar will squeeze your neck until your head pops off," Harry snarled right back as the invisible Veela began butchering the Death Eaters. "Now if you are done with your macho posturing, I suggest you do down there and convince your family to leave the United Kingdom."

"Where are in the name of Merlin are they suppose to go?"

"The Veela will help them find a new home somewhere Voldemort will never be able to find them. You have my word on that."

"The word of a liar means nothing," Weasley snapped. "And that's what you are Potter: a liar. This whole business of claiming to be the god Dionysus makes me sick."

"If that's the way you feel, then you can sit here and watch your family die in a few hours. Or you can swallow your pride, and take my offer of help. So what's it going to be?"

Weasley's prediction proved to be correct. Less than an hour after Apolline sent the bodies of the eight Death Eaters to the Ministry of Magic, the village of Ottery St. Catchpole was in flames. Luckily all the local magical families had taken Harry's offer of a Portkey to France, including the Weasleys. None of them were happy about to becoming refugees, but they were alive and in the end that's what really mattered.

News of the mass destruction quickly spread. Over the next few weeks thousands of wizards and witches managed to escape from Voldemort's new reign of terror. At first they simple Apparated to the Continent or flew by broom, but the puppets at the Ministry of Magic soon strengthen the national wards. That stopped any magical transportation across the border, but what it didn't stop was non-magical transportation across the border.

Guided by the daily broadcasts of "Free Wizarding Wireless"—which was now broadcasting from the Flamel's Chateau in France thanks to Perenelle's suport—those who still wanted to leave the United Kingdom turned to the muggle world. For the first time in their lives wizards and witches began boarding aeroplanes, ferries, and even the newly opened Chunnel train to slip by the Death Eaters and their new allies among the Aurors. Once out of the country they were guided by volunteers to a network of safe houses before moving on. Mostly to the United States or the Antipodes, countries which were always eager for new magical blood.

An who paid for this mass migration of political refugees?

Well, for starters it was the Veela. After four thousand years of history they had accumulated a lot of wealth, but Harry felt guilty about spending it. The Veela might believe that he was the reincarnation of their god Dionysus, but in his heart he didn't share their delusion. Because of this he went back to the first job he had ever had: charity fundraising.

The rest of the magical world knew that Voldemort was evil (and probably insane to boot), so many were eager to help with their galleons if not with their wands. It was an added bonus that the Boy-Who-Lived and his female entourage were such crowd-pleasers. Harry and his four broodmares were the only Unicorn Animagi in the entire world. In truth they were the only Animagi who took the form of any magical creäture. Another bonus was his ability to fly, and at such great speeds. His aerial displays always impressed the donors.

But the biggest draw was definitely the spontaneous orgies that always seemed to break out whenever Harry showed up at a party. Not only was he a handsome, but he always traveled with a large number of Veela. Compared to most international meetings—which tended to be boring—an event starring the famous Boy-Who-Lived was guaranteed to be memorable.

All and all his fundraising tours around the magical world were very lucrative, and provided them more than enough galleons to support their new cold war against Voldemort.

"I think we have reached the limits of our current strategy," Apolline told them three months after their escape to the Enclave. "Voldemort has the United Kingdom sealed up tighter than a goblin's treasure vault, and any further attempts to leave will only result in pointless deaths."

"I'm surprised that we got away with it for as long as we did," Harry said as he gently rubbed Hermione's belly.

One interesting side-effect of their brief stay at Azkaban was the witch's pregnancy. After the trauma of being arrested and sent to prison she had forgotten about her monthly contraception potion. Hermione seemed happy about becoming a teenage mother, although the fact that her boyfriend could die any day now might have had something to do it.

Padma, Luna and Tonks were also pregnant. According to the Healer's medical rituals all four were expecting daughters. Padma theorized that his magic was somehow responsable for this gender section. Harry hoped she was right. If he had any sons, their relationships would be doomed from the start thanks to the negative effect his Charisma had on wizards.

"Saving the lives of nearly a third of the wizards and witches in the United Kingdom is nothing to be ashamed of," Su said. She hadn't gotten pregnant yet, although he wasn't sure why. They certainly had sex often enough.

"I say it's time we take a more aggressive approach," Harry argued. "Setting up the new underground railroad and the Free Wizarding Wireless in France was a good start, but now we have to start sending agents inside the country to directly undermine Voldemort's political authority."

"Getting past these new wards is going to be a one-way trip for sure," Tonks pointed out. "Who's going to volunteer for that kind of mission besides Angelina Johnson and her crazy werewolves? The Veela are too noticeable to go undercover for any length of time."

"I'm sure we can find some recruits among those who fled earlier," Su said. "About half the people who escaped seem happy with their new lives, but the other half wants to return home at some point in the future."

"But what are they suppose to do once they arrive?" Black asked. He was still angry with his godson for many reasons, but thankfully he was willing to put that anger aside for the sake of the war effort. "A direct attack on the Ministry of Magic or Voldemort himself would be a total disaster."

"Lord Dionysus wouldn't be asking them to attack Voldemort directly," Apolline explained. "Instead we will work on setting up a resistance movement. Small acts of sabotage and the occasional assassination will be our immediate goals. Angelina is already in London laying the groundwork."

"This plan of yours is going to get a lot of innocent people killed," Black snapped.

"I know that," Harry admitted. "And that's why I will out in the field with them."

"Potter, that is crazy," Su said. "You'll be totally defenseless if Voldemort or his Death Eaters catch you."

"I'm sorry, but this isn't up for negotiation. If I'm going ask people to die in my name, then I must to be willing to risk my own life helping them."

"Fine. If you're going, I'm going too."

"Are you a Metamorphmagus?" Harry asked.

"No," Su admitted.

"Can you fly without a broom or a magic carpet?'

"No."

"Can you alter the appearance of your Animagus form so it looks like a regular horse instead of a bloody unicorn?"

"No."

"Then you're not coming with me, and that's not up for negotiation either. I plan on leaving tomorrow. We can either spend our remaining time together arguing, or we can go to bed."

Su was furious, but she dragged him off to bed anyway.

Implementing this next phase of their plan was a major headache.

Things started well enough, since the "Gospel of Dionysus" was easy to understand and even easier to follow. Harry wandered around the small magical villages of England, Wales, and Scotland in a random fashion. Some nights he flew, while other nights he transformed into Blackie and galloped through the green fields and forests. Some nights he would even hitch a ride with the female muggles who always seemed eager to stop their automobiles and pick him up.

During the day Harry would alter his face, and then chat with the local witches he met. As his Charisma surged into them, he would asked about the new Ministry of Magic. Their answers were never good. Voldemort had never been a popular leader, so to motivate his new (inexperienced and stupid) Death Eaters he had to let them brutalize the common people. This only made him more unpopular.

As he chatted with these witches, he would let slip news about the famous Boy-Who-Lived who was working so hard to topple Voldemort from power. Harry Potter had saved them all once, and perhaps he would do so again if they accepted his new ideas. Ideas which promoted peace and love, not war and hatred of the muggles. This line of thinking was encouraged by his other agents, who were also secretly roaming all over the countryside.

Once or twice a week he would use an enchanted mirror to contact Angelina. They would then meet at some muggle hotel to exchange information and brainstorm new strategies. The passionate sex they always ended-up having was just an added bonus as far as Harry was concerned.

"The converts to the great Lord Dionysus are reaching a critical mass," the naked werewolf told him as them lounged in bed one afternoon. "I think it's time to began to asking them to join our new Résistance."

"Do you think the plan will work?" Harry asked.

"No, not a chance. But if we are going to die, we might as well take a few Death Eaters with us before the end."

"That sounds like something a proud werewolf queen would say, but I know you are lying. So why are you and the other werewolves really helping me?"

Angelina ran her long fingers over his smooth chest muscles. "I know you're not a Greek god—even if you do look like one—but I honestly believe in your message. Peace and equality for all magical beings... those are ideas I'm willing to die for, and my werewolves feel the same way."

"I hate to break it to you, but I don't think the great Lord Dionysus will be able to change the magical world in the ways you want him to."

"If Voldemort doesn't kill you first, I think you will. I think your new message will change everything."

At first Harry and Angelina only asked their new recruits for gossip about the Ministry of Magic, but soon they were given small tasks. Some were told to carry out a minor sabotage here or there, while others were asked to steal certain critical supplies which were irreplaceable without foreign imports. The magical economy of the United Kingdom was already in terrible shape, so these small acts of defiance had an oversized impact.

After awhile they upped the ante. Minor Death Eaters began having accidents that weren't really accidents at all. Others were served poisoned food and wine. The worst Death Eaters simply had their throats cut while they slept. A few notorious rapists were castrated while they were still wide-awake.

Voldemort wasn't a fool, and he realized what was happening at once. His predictable response was to increase the political oppression by the Ministry of Magic. Several of the members of the Résistance were captured by the Aurors and tortured, but they had no useful information to share.

Apolline had insisted from the beginning that they use a clandestine cell system. Each witch only knew the identity of the two other witches in her particular cell. All communication with the other members of the Résistance and with the leadership were completely anonymous. This prevented the Aurors from penetrating the larger organization and destroying it.

These setbacks didn't stop Voldemort, and he continued to terrorize his people in hopes of ending the Resistance before it gained more strength. But the worse things got, the more witches went over to Harry and his message of a peaceful future. The numbers in the Résistance soon climbed from a few dozen to a few hundred, and they continued to receive generous financial support from the outside world.

Harry's continually asked the witches he met: "What does the so-called Dark Lord have to offer us but the cruelty of his Death Eaters and the poverty of international isolation?"

Voldemort had no real answers for either of these questions.

After a year of itinerant preaching and guerrilla warfare, they were ready.

That fateful day Su paid a visit to the muggle hotel in London where Harry was staying. Spending letters to the Enclave or even using enchanted mirrors was considered too much of a security risk, so they hadn't seen each since his last fundraiser in German three months ago. After all that time apart Harry was wondering if Su had come to end their relationship.

Instead she ripped off his clothes the second he closed the door. She then wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. He responded by pinning her up against the wall for the next ten minutes. Their unique connection was still there, and it was as intense as ever.

Afterwards Su took a bundle of magical pictures out of her Mokeskin pouch. "I think you will want to take a look at these."

They were pictures of his four new daughters and their happy mothers. There was Rose Granger, who had a flower name like his mother Lily. Pritha Patil carried on the family tradition of names starting with the letter "P". Theodora Tonks was named after her grandfather as a peace-offering, since Ted Tonks was still planning on killing Harry the first chance he got. And finally there was Artemis Lovegood, who was a perfect little moon goddess just like her mother. They were all so beautiful he started to cry.

"Potter, in case you hadn't noticed I'm still naked. But the fact that you're crying is really ruining the mood for me."

"Thank you for coming to London, and thank you for bring these pictures," Harry whispered. "I needed a reminder of why I'm going through with this today."

"You are going through with this because it's the best chance we have to get rid of Voldemort," Su said as she reluctantly began putting on her custom dragon-skin armor. "To that end I've brought someone with me from France who should be able to help us."

"Who?"

"For reasons of security I literally can't tell you."

"Another Unbreakable Vow?"

"That would be a good guess."

Their plan—if you wanted to be generous and call it that—relied on Voldemort's anger overcoming his common sense.

But to be fair the Dark Lord did have a lot to be angry about. It was the Boy-Who-Lived who destroyed his first body all those years ago. It was the Boy-Who-Lived who was mocking him from the safety of the Veela Enclave (or so Voldemort thought) and traveling around the world going to lavish parties while he was trapped on a single wretched island. It was the Boy-Who-Lived who was inspiring his subjects to rebel against their lawful ruler.

And it was the Boy-Who-Lived who was now standing in Diagon Alley challenging the great and powerful Lord Voldemort to a duel in front of a massive crowd.

The sensible course of action would have been to let the Aurors arrest Harry. He was the most wanted criminal in the United Kingdom, and it would have been perfectly legal for Voldemort to leave the situation in the hands of the proper authorities.

It was a good thing for Harry that his rival was a megalomaniac, because instead of being sensible Voldemort Apparated directly to Diagon Alley the moment he heard about the challenge.

"So you have come to face me at last, you cowardly worm!" Voldemort roared when he saw Harry standing there in the middle of the Alley.

These first few seconds had always been the weak point in the plan, and the reason why Angelina feared it was doomed to failure. If Voldemort had shown up and simply killed Harry there was nothing anyone could have done to stop him. Instead the evil tosspot had to gloat, just as he had done before killing Amelia Bones.

That arrogance cost him dearly.

Why? Well, because every single witch in Diagon Alley that morning was a follower of Lord Dionysus. They had been brought together by the Résistance, and half of them were dressed as wizards. The deception never would have worked if Voldemort had the least bit of caution. Instead he began gloating like a schoolyard bully, confident that his magic could overcome any obstacle.

And he was right about that. After watching the battle on Azkaban, Harry realized it would be impossible to defeat Voldemort with conventional magic. So he didn't even try. Instead Harry flooded Diagon Alley with his Charisma until the runes cut into his bones started to burn. Now the crowd of witches were primed to obey their Lord Dionysus' command.

"Seize him!"

The crowd lunged forward like a pack of wild animals. Feelings of love, Harry had learned over the years, were very similar to feelings of hatred. While Voldemort managed to cut down the first wave of witches with a series of Killing Curses, he was soon overwhelmed by their numbers and their utter lack of fear. He was so conditioned to fighting with magic that he had no idea how to react to such a primitive threat.

Fuel by Harry's Charisma, the furious witches not only deprived the monster of his wand, they also deprived him of his entire wand arm. Voldemort tried to Apparate, but Su had activated the anti-transportation wards the second he showed his ugly face in Diagon Ally. The savage beating continued for over a minute before Harry called the witches off.

Despite being covered in blood, Voldemort laughed when his young rival approached. "Do you honestly think you have won? What a fool you are, Harry Potter. This body is nothing but a shell. I returned once before. I shall return again."

That had always been the other great flaw in the plan, but Harry figured it would take Voldemort some time (hopefully a couple of years) before he could create another body. He figured he would cross that bridge when he came to it.

Su and Angelina were holding back the crowd, but to his surprise they allowed a short witch to step forward. The witch threw back her heavy cloak, an act which revealed a very familiar face.

"Let me take a wild guess: you used the Ka-Sheut Ritual developed by the Egyptian Priests during the Middle Kingdom?" Perenelle Flamel asked.

"How could you possibly know that?" a shocked Voldemort asked as more blood ran from his deformed mouth.

"Weak tea, Tom Riddle. Weak tea," Perenelle chided. "Before you die I am going to show you what a real necromancer is capable of."

The old witch then began chanting in a guttural langage—Harry later learned that is was Ancient Sumerian—and moving her wand in a complex pattern. A spike of pure magical energy suddenly plunged straight into Voldemort's chest and ripped his soul from his artificial body. Perenelle than lifted it into the air, and shredded it into nothingness.

As this was going on Harry turned to address his followers. "This is the fate of all those to defy the will of your Lord Dionysus. Go forth and slay any Death Eater you can find."

"Go forth and slay...?" Su asked quietly as the wild crowd began running in every direction.

"It sounds like something a god would say," an embarrassed Harry said as he took out his enchanted mirror and contacted Apolline. The Strategos arrived in London this morning with two-thousand Veela warriors and another thousand magical mercenaries. They had to charter ten muggle aeroplanes to do it, but money was never a problem for the Veela. "Are your Curse Breakers ready to begin?"

"Yes, my Lord. They should have the wards around the Ministry of Magic down within the hour. I trust the great Dark Lord Voldemort is dead?"

"Very dead in fact, thanks to Mrs Flamel. Once the wards are down you are to proceed with the attack. Make sure your Veela warriors and the mercenaries remember my orders: no prisoners are to be taken. None. This stupid war ends today."

"It will be as you command, my Lord."

Harry turned to thank Perenelle only to find her collapsed in a heap on the bloody cobblestones of Diagon Alley. Apparently necromancy was a taxing form of magic.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked as he offered the exhausted witch his personal flask of Firewhiskey.

"I will be," Perenelle replied after taking a long drink. "In a few months."

"Thank you for destroying Voldemort's soul, but I'm a little confused. I thought you and your husband didn't want to get involved in this war."

"Nicolas is dead. He set off on the Next Great Adventure a few days ago. The selfish prick expected me to jump on the funeral pyre next to him, but I had other plans."

He was almost afraid to ask. "What kind of plans?"

"In all my long years I've never started a religion before, and it sounds like fun," Perenelle replied. "Plus I've always had this fantasy about making love to a pair of male and female Metamorphmagi."

Harry looked over at Su, who shrugged her shoulders. "She agreed to share the Philosopher's Stone with us. I'm not happy about it, but it is a fair trade."

As he laid in bed that night nestled between Perenelle and Tonks, Harry was seriously considering buying Su her very own Slytherin pimp cane. Bargaining his sexual favors (and Tonks') in return for access to the Philosopher's Stone was a fair trade, but at least she could have asked for his permission first. Not that it was a hardship or anything. After six-hundred years Perenelle had learned a lot of interesting tricks, and Tonks' presence only made things more stimulating.

Adding to his good mood was Apolline's crushing victory at the Ministry of Magic. It took the Veela Strategos less than two hours to finish off the remaining Death Eaters, and a new Minister of Magic had already been recognized by the ICW. Arthur Weasley was an honorable wizard. And the fact that his son William was a "guest" at the Veela Enclave meant he would never even think about arresting Harry or any of his friends for the many crimes they committed during the war.

Best of all was the Philosopher's Stone itself, which Perenelle had presented to him after his outstanding performance tonight. As Harry studied the beautiful red jewel, he thought about the future.

Dumbledore and Voldemort were finally dead. He possessed the awesome powers of a minor Greek god, and now he had a few hundred years to play with. Maybe Angelina was right after all. Maybe the new Lord Dionysus would be able to change the world for the better.