Chapter 8: A New Way Forward

This was it, it had to be. The device was pointing right at it. Hestia Jones was standing in front of the long-lost Diadem of Ravenclaw. She'd been searching for two days, ever since Hogwarts had fallen to the Guards. She'd known before the attack that it was located somewhere on the grounds or in the castle. It had been child's play to narrow it down to the seventh floor corridor, and there she'd been stuck for a day and a bloody half.

Eventually, she'd hit the books, and in doing so, built a camaraderie with Irma Pince, the dedicated Hogwarts librarian, who had refused to leave her post even when the Death Eaters arrived. Pince had pointed her to the right books, told her the right lore, and so it was that she had found the Room of Requirement and the hall of lost things. It had been a bloody nightmare to navigate, but she'd done it quite quickly, if she did say so herself.

Hestia wasn't stupid enough to simply pick the diadem up. She could feel the pull, hear it calling to her. She conjured a cardboard box and used her wand to levitate the diadem into it, and shut the lid. Then it was a race to see how fast she could get it where it needed to go. She bolted from the room, racing down the stairs like a child, narrowly missing the trick steps she'd learned to avoid as a student. Bursting out the ruined front door and into the open, she ran flat out for the gates, apparating away the moment she passed the ward line.

She arrived in a hangar at RAF Brize Norton in Oxfordshire, and darted out to the flight operations building. There, she secured the services of a Hercules transport to fly to RAF Nanstow, the closest base to Dr. Walkers remote research facility. Things slowed down considerably for a while while the crew was briefed and the aircraft spun up. It was odd, shifting from speed to waiting, but it was something Hestia had experienced before, so she made do.

Finally, she was seated alone in the expansive cargo area, and the Hercules was rotating off the runway and into the dreary British sky. About an hour and a half later, the aircraft touched down at RAF Nanstow. Once the plane had rolled to a stop, Hestia apparated away. The crew chief popped her head in the back, saw Hestia was gone, and signalled the pilot to prepare for take off again.

Hestia landed at the front door of the research facility, the closest to the building that apparition was allowed. She hauled the door open and raced inside, finding Dr. Walker at work in one of her labs. Hestia banged on the glass and held up the box for inspection, opening the lid so Dr. Walker could see the diadem inside. Five minutes later, the last bit of Voldemort's soul was screaming its swan song as the golf ball it had been transferred to was doused in basilisk venom. Hestia turned to a phone to place a call.

"This is Wildfire," she said, using her codename. "Tell His Majesty that the last of them's been found and destroyed." She sighed. "He'll know what it means." She waited a moment. "Understood. I'll be waiting here. The number is 01 4496 1054." She hung up. "Bloody waiting," she muttered, and slumped into a chair.

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"It still doesn't seem right," Harry complained. "Will you take a look at it?" He passed Hermione a sheaf of papers, which she dutifully began skimming through. While she read, he paced.

"For someone who's never written a constitution before, I'd say this is a good start," she said at last. "Why don't I give it an edit? I'll redo some of the verbiage so that it sounds proper, but still understandable, and does what you want it to do. I very much like the overall format, though, and your ideas are sensible."

"Thank you!" Harry gushed, relieved, and slumped into a chair.

There was a knock on the door, and Harry looked up. St. James's Palace had become a madhouse the last two days, as thousands of well-wishers lined up outside to sign a memorial book for Princess Diana. Harry had retreated there anyway to escape the even madder house of Horse Guards, where he couldn't even be alone in his own office. Now it seemed that the war would intrude here too.

"Enter!" he called. The door entered and Charlus walked in.

"I've good news," Charlus said, closing the door. "The Diadem of Ravenclaw was found at Hogwarts earlier today. Hestia Jones took it to Dr. Walker, who destroyed it. Voldemort's through for good."

"Excellent," Harry said, grinning up from the chair. "Where is Hestia now?"

"She's at the lab," Charlus replied.

"Have her come here," Harry ordered. "I've a job for her."

"I'll ring her immediately," Charlus agreed. "She should be here by late tonight."

"Perfect," Harry allowed.

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Harry entered the study again about an hour later. Hermione was rereading the proposed constitution of Magical Britain again, after rewriting it for him. It was a bold move, the constitution. The United Kingdom famously didn't have a written constitution per se, but rather a constitution that was understood to be the composite of English tradition, written law, and judicial decisions. His constitution was even different from existing written constitutions.

Harry's constitution began with a description of who qualified as a citizen of Magical Britain: notably any wizards, witches, sentient magical creatures, squibs, and any muggle married to a witch, wizard, or squib, or who was the parent of a witch or wizard, so long as they were born in or became naturalized citizens of Magical Britain, the United Kingdom, the Republic of Ireland, or Crown possessions such as the Isle of Man or the Channel Islands, and finally the Monarch of the United Kingdom, and other members of the Royal Family in the immediate line of succession out to great grandchildren of the monarch. He also firmly established Magical Britain as part of the Commonwealth of Nations, which recognized Elizabeth II as Queen.

The next part of the constitution laid out the rights and responsibilities of the citizens of Magical Britain. It enshrined commonly held freedoms: of speech, of religion (which in Magical Britain usually meant the right to be the part of a coven), of assembly, of the press, to a speedy trial with a barrister on your side, and so on. Responsibilities outlined included a duty to vote in elections.

Then Harry created a parliament, comprised of one hundred ministers, who were elected in a nationwide election, and apportioned through proportional representation. He was, in effect, introducing actual political parties to Magical Britain, as they were a requirement of most systems using proportional representation. Citizens would vote for their party of choice, and then rank the candidates from their party in order of preference. The ballots would be combined to find the percentage of candidates each party would seat and the most preferred candidates from each party, who would then fill those seats.

Parliament would then elect its officers, including a Prime Minister, who would be asked to be seated by Queen Elizabeth II. Though parliamentary elections were required to be held every four years, the constitution instructed that it was the monarch's duty to call them, and that she was responsible for scheduling them. Also, if at any time the government became deadlocked, she was to schedule new elections so that the deadlock may be broken.

The Prime Minister would head a cabinet, like the Muggle PM, with departments renamed Ministries, and for the first time including such important ministries as the Foreign Ministry, the Treasury, and the Ministry of Justice, which were required by the constitution, though others might be formed by Parliament as required.

The constitution also, for the first time in Magical Britain, separated the legislative and judicial branches, by establishing both circuit, and superior courts, with the justices recommended by parliament and approved by the Queen. The new Ministry of Justice would employ solicitors and barristers to try cases and review law, and run the Auror Corps and Azkaban to enforce the law.

Harry rightly believed that, while radical to him, it would be downright shocking and scandalous to the majority of the population of Magical Britain. Still, with the backing of a minority of the Magical British population, the will of Her Majesty, and the weapons of Avalon, Magical Britain would be dragged, kicking and screaming into the modern age, at least politically.

"I think that's got it," Hermione said, looking up from her desk. She presented the papers to Harry, who took them, but didn't read them. Instead, he went to the window, where he could see the lines of mourners who'd come to express their love for a woman who had held such a special place in their hearts. Harry wondered for a moment whether he'd ever get such an outpouring from Avalon, or Magical Britain, for that matter. It was a sobering reminder of the hard work he would need to do in the future.

"Are we doing the right thing, 'Mione?" Harry asked. "Is it right to impose our will on a country that's no longer our own?"

"Yes, Harry," Hermione replied, rising to join him. "Magical Britain's government has been destroyed. Its population is scattered. We're acting as the Americans did in West Germany, not as the Soviets did in the East. Your constitution lays out a system of government that allows the citizenry to choose their own destiny. Voldemort perverted a shabby, outdated system into a authoritarian government that ripped choice from their hands and gave it to him. The old way proved itself unworkable and dangerous. Despite enduring for a thousand years, its age exposed its flaws, and what had been a creaking ancient ship finally sank. You're merely providing a new way with clear and concrete stepping stones to a free tomorrow."

Harry turned from the window and glanced down at the document. He started reading, and stood immobile for five minutes as he devoured the document. Finally he set it down.

"You have a gift for taking my ideas and turning them into something that makes sense," Harry praised. "You realize what that means, right?" he asked.

"What does it mean?" she wondered.

"It means I have to keep you around for a long time," he replied, smiling. "I need a yin to my yang, an editor, and a confidant. It helps that you're the love of my life." He engulfed her in a hug, and gave her a searing kiss.

"I'm not going anywhere," she stated when they came up for air.

"Good," Harry said, grinning. "I like you right where you are." He kissed her again. They were interrupted by a knock on the door. "Enter!" Harry called as he pulled away from Hermione. The door opened, revealing Hestia Jones. "Come in, I have a job for you," Harry said brightly.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything, Your Majesty," Hestia said with a knowing smile. Harry waved it off and hurried to a nearby shelf, where he withdrew a plain oak box about a half metre square. He handed it to her.

"Go to France and find the Magical British expat community there," Harry instructed. "Tell them the war is over, and they need to be back in Britain as soon as possible. They're to assemble in Diagon Alley on Saturday."

"The sixth?" Hestia asked in clarification.

"Yes, this coming Saturday, by ten in the morning," Harry confirmed. "I'm having the word put out to anyone who stayed."

"Yes, sir," Hestia replied with a genuine smile, glad that the war was over, and things were being set right again. "What am I to do with this?" she asked, hefting the box.

"Present it to Madam Bones, or whomever's in charge, as proof that the war is well and truly over," Harry replied. "We're coming clean about everything."

"Everything, everything?" she asked. Harry nodded. "Yes, sir," Hestia replied again.

"Off with you, then," Harry ordered. "I've business here." He winked impishly, and nodded in Hermione's direction.

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Finding the British expats wasn't a hard job by any means. Hestia had a general idea of where they'd gone; had been told the coordinates of the portkeys they'd used before Hogwarts had fallen. The only hitch was the time. Hestia wasted none, but still didn't manage to track them down until well after dark. It had been a long day, begun just after dawn in the Hogwarts Library. Everyone important was asleep. She decided the next day would be soon enough.

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"Hestia, so good to see you," Kingsley Shacklebolt said lightly the next morning. "I haven't seen you since the battle." She knew he meant the fall of Hogwarts, not the more recent ones. They were standing in a French château, though a small one, on loan from the Ministère des Affaires Magiques de la France. It was the headquarters of the Magical British government in exile.

"You too, Kingsley," Hestia replied. "I need to speak with the Minister."

"Amelia's fairly busy today," Kingsley prevaricated.

"She's not too busy for this, Kingsley," Hestia said, patting the box. "The war's over. It's time to go home."

"What?" Kingsley asked, shocked. "You mean..."

"Voldemort's dead," Hestia replied. "He was killed by Harry Potter a few days ago. The prophecy's been fulfilled."

"I'll let her know you're here," Kingsley said quickly. He disappeared through a random door. Hestia took the time to look around. The place was nice; seventeenth or early eighteenth century. There was lots of gold leaf and fancy moulding, but it was more like something that might've been found in Germany: small and more simple than baroque. Kingsley returned and ushered her into an even smaller room, a study doubling as the Minister's office.

"I hear you have good news," Amelia said, standing to shake hands.

"I do," Hestia replied. "The war is over. Everyone can return home."

"How did it happen?" Amelia pressed, sitting and gesturing for Hestia to join her.

"I'm not sure. I wasn't there," Hestia answered. "I was at Hogwarts that day. But Harry did kill Voldemort, of that I'm sure."

"Please excuse me if I don't believe you," Amelia said gently. "This has happened before, after all. We believed Minister Bagnold when she said Voldemort was gone, and he clearly wasn't. We'll need proof." At that, Hestia remembered Harry's words from the night before, and pulled the shrunken box from her pocket. She quickly enlarged it and passed it to Amelia.

"Harry said that if you required proof, I was to present you with this," Hestia said.

"What's in it?" Amelia asked.

"I don't know. I didn't ask," Hestia replied.

Amelia opened the box and gasped. Inside was the severed head of Tom Riddle and a broken wand. The head was nearly white, bald, and missing the back of the skull. The eyes were empty and fogged over. The mouth hung loose. There were two small holes: one in the forehead, and the other on the bridge of the almost non-existent nose.

"Sweet Merlin!" Amelia exclaimed, dropping the box to the desk. Kingsley peered inside, and quickly closed his eyes and withdrew.

"I'd say that's proof enough," Kingsley observed. Amelia, who had lost the power of coherent speech, merely nodded.

"Harry requests that all citizens of Magical Britain be present in Diagon Alley at ten o'clock in the morning this Saturday, September 6," Hestia announced. "He has a major announcement."

"He's a bloody hero," Kingsley said. "The Boy Who Lived is now the Man Who Conquered."

"He'd hate for you to say that," Hestia said.

"How did all this come about?" Amelia asked. "I mean, the last I heard Harry was missing, and Voldemort was in firm control. How did Harry do it?"

"All will be revealed on Saturday," Hestia said mysteriously. Harry had, of course, given her the go-ahead to tell them everything, but she wanted them to have a reason to show up on Saturday.

"I'll make an announcement," Amelia said. She turned to Kingsley. "We'd best start packing up. I'm sure we'll have to fumigate the Ministry to get the stink out."

"Oh, you won't be going back to the Ministry," Hestia said. "Don't worry, though. As the Americans say, there's a new sheriff in town, at least until a new government can be constituted."

"I see," Amelia replied, her lips in a thin line. "And you wouldn't be willing to share who this new sheriff might be, would you?"

"It would be easier for you to see for yourself," Hestia replied simply.

"Fine," Amelia acquiesced in a sour tone.

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Wednesday was departure day for those Muggleborns, Squibs, and their families who had elected to return to Magical Britain. Harry stood on the tarmac at the airport in Camelot and wished them well. He shook hundreds of hands, and received a good many hugs, and—to his dismay—some kisses.

Almost a third of the evacuees had elected to return; most immediately. Some had delayed their departure so that their children might finish their education, or to finish schooling themselves. In total, nearly two thousand Muggleborns, Squibs and family members were leaving for Britain.

The remaining evacuees, numbering in excess of four and a half thousand were staying, and putting down roots, to Harry's delight. There was a lot of talent in those four and a half thousand new citizens, and Harry was eager to tap it. Amongst those staying permanently were Tracey Davis and her family, and Luna Lovegood and her father. Justin's family, as predicted, was leaving, but he was remaining behind at the Davis household to finish at what the Finch-Fletchleys considered a better school. Hermione was staying as well, as were the Granger parents.

One of the most important families he saw off were the Tonkses. Ted, Andromeda, and Tonks had been occasional dinner guests at the castle over the past year, but the age difference between Harry and Tonks had worked to keep them distant. It was clear that Tonks missed Remus, and was anxious to get back to him.

The last person Harry bid farewell to was Neville, who had been discharged from the Royal Navy that morning after being promoted to Lieutenant Commander with the thanks of the Monarch for services rendered and a knighthood in the Royal Order of Avalon for his actions at Azakaban Prison. Neville and his Grandmother would be returning to Britain to enthusiastically take part in reshaping the government. It was something that Augusta Longbottom felt was long overdue. She heartily endorsed the new constitution when she'd been presented a copy the day before.

"I'll see you on Saturday, yeah?" Harry asked as he hugged Neville goodbye.

"Yeah," Neville said. There was nothing more to say. Neville hugged Hermione and Luna, both of whom had also come to see him off. "Don't be a stranger," he told the three. Then with one last look back, he boarded the Avalon Air BAe 146-300.

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"They deserve to know!" Harry shouted.

"It isn't done, sir," replied the Prime Minister.

"Why? And who does that serve?" Harry asked rhetorically, the anger practically dripping off his words. "Us? Hardly. It makes personal travel, indeed proving our very identities, amongst other magicals infinitely harder. Besides, after our conquest of Magical Britain, I'm fairly certain the cat's at least halfway out of the bag already. Hestia Jones says the Magical British are already asking questions.

"So, care to explain by whose authority I'm prohibited from revealing the secret of Avalon to the world?" Harry queried. The Prime Minister had the good grace to look at his feet. "Please! Is it a law, a constitutional requirement, something else?"

"It's a royal decree," Charlus interjected calmly, and a bit smugly.

"So it's of no consequence, then," Harry practically laughed. He turned to Charlus. "I want a decree on my desk in an hour repealing the earlier decree for my signature."

"But that decree is by King Hector's hand and has stood for nearly six hundred and fifty years," the Prime Minister protested.

"Yes, and the Wizengamot of Magical Britain was an institution for five hundred, but I got rid of that," Harry rejoined. "I'm not changing this lightly," he continued. "I've thought about this for over a year. I've pondered both sides, read the journals of my ancestors, and consulted the laws of a dozen nations. There's no good reason for it anymore. We aren't revealing ourselves to muggles, for crying out loud. There are more magicals in Avalon than in all of Western Europe and the British Isles combined, and we're the only magical nation in the world with an organized military force. We lose nothing by revealing ourselves and gain much. I'm announcing our presence to the magical world on Saturday, and we'll be sending an Ambassador to the ICW on Monday."

"But, what about the influx of travellers?" the Prime Minister asked.

"What about them?" Harry asked. "People will be curious."

"But practitioners of dark magic…" the Prime Minister sputtered.

"Can be kept out," Harry stopped him. "Remember, the only ways in are by air, boat, or floo. I'm not planning on opening the wards to apparition or portkeys. The wards around Avalon are no less powerful today than they were yesterday or last week, last month, last year, last decade… Any dark wizard or witch who tries to come to Avalon will die, same as before. We just might have more try now, at least until a few fail to return home."

"I see your mind is made up, sir," the Prime Minister finally relented.

"It is," Harry acknowledged. "But don't fear. It is a change, but I think it will be good for Avalon and the world.

"Harry," Hermione said, poking her head in the door. "We've class about to start."

"I have to go," Harry informed the Prime Minister. "Thank you for stopping by."

"Good day, sir," the Prime Minister replied, and left stiffly.

"What did he want?" Hermione asked.

"Initially, he wanted to talk about better integrating the evacuees who remained into the population," Harry said. "But then he got wind that I was going to reveal the secret of Avalon to the world and he got a little rough."

"You're doing the right thing," Hermione said, allaying his fears.

"I know," Harry replied.

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Diagon Alley was thronged. It was packed to the brim with thousands of people in both magical and muggle dress. As she looked closer, she noticed that they weren't all people. She passed a group of centaurs. There were hoards of house elves looking nervously from corners. More than one goblin was standing in the street. It was the oddest collection of beings she'd seen in a long time.

There was a dais on the steps of Gringotts, just opposite the intersection with Knockturn Alley that was currently empty, but surrounded by what appeared to be muggle soldiers in camouflage uniforms with maroon berets. They were carrying rifles. At the doors of Gringotts itself was a small unit of Goblin warriors. Amelia Bones felt a twist in her gut. She pushed her way to the front, dragging her niece with her.

"Hello, Amelia," a woman greeted her once she'd reached the dais. Amelia wasn't surprised to see Augusta Longbottom and her son present. She was a little surprised to see them both dressed in muggle clothing. Neville was wearing a suit with a small crown lapel pin, while Augusta was in a skirt and blouse with a light jacket.

"Hello, Augusta," Amelia replied with her friendliest voice. "You wouldn't happen to know what this is about, would you?"

"I would, but Harry will be able to explain it better than I," Augusta replied.

"There's a lot of that going around," Amelia said sourly.

"Well, he is in charge," Augusta responded.

"If he's in charge, who put the soldiers here?" Amelia asked. She was getting too old to play these games.

"He did," Augusta said simply. The two women lapsed into silence. They were soon joined by the Weasley clan and Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Hey Neville," Ron said. "Susan."

"Hello Ron," Neville replied. Susan nodded.

"Have you seen Harry?" Ron asked.

"Not since Wednesday," Neville replied. Ron and Susan both looked at him in shock.

"Where did you see him Wednesday?" Susan asked.

"The airport," Neville responded. He couldn't say much more than that because of the vow. It escaped the others that he didn't specify which airport he'd seen Harry at.

"How is he?" Ron wanted to know.

"He seemed fine to me," Neville replied vaguely. He checked his watch, a fancy gold pocket watch he kept in his waistcoat. It was nearly ten.

"Do you know how he did it?" Ron pressed.

"It's his tale to tell," Neville said firmly. "I was merely a cog." Then he realized he'd said too much.

"You were there?" Ron asked, surprised and hurt.

"Along with Hermione and Luna," Neville allowed. "Well, Luna wasn't there for the fighting…" He saw Ron starting to get angry. "You don't understand, Ron. He wanted to get you too, but your family was too close to Dumbledore. He couldn't get you out without blowing everything."

"But Dumbledore…" Ron protested.

"Wasn't looking out for Harry's best interests," Neville concluded quietly. "Harry's path, of which Dumbledore was unaware, didn't fit into his version of how everything would play out. Dumbledore couldn't even begin to imagine the way Harry chose… the way he was born into."

"What's that mean?" Ron nearly shouted.

"It means Harry wanted to bring you and Ginny along, but couldn't," Neville tried again. "You're his best mate. He would often say how you'd have liked this or that…" Neville didn't reveal that such musings had faded over the months, replaced with spending time with Hermione or Neville and Luna.

"He only wrote me a few times," Ron sulked. "And he never said where he was, even when I asked."

"He couldn't, Ron," Neville said. "He couldn't risk your mum finding out and telling Dumbledore. In fact, I'm willing to bet that Dumbledore asked you to write Harry to find out where he was."

"So?" Ron asked.

"You just proved my point," Neville replied. Ron simply sulked. Neville turned his attention to Susan. "Have you ever been to the cinema?" he asked. Susan blinked at him.

"No," she replied. "What's that?"

"It's like a theatre and a wizarding photograph put together," Neville tried to explain. "It's something muggles invented. Would you like to go with me?"

Neville largely succeeded in keeping the nervousness out of his voice. He'd never asked a girl out before, and while he'd accompanied Luna when the four of them had gone to the cinema in Camelot, it hadn't really been a date. Luna was just a little too… odd for his tastes.

Susan Bones, on the other hand, checked a lot of boxes for Neville: she was loyal—as Hufflepuffs should be, she was a member of a light-sided family of some status, she was his age, she seemed normal and well adjusted, and she was cute. Neville, for his part, had grown considerable over the past few years, and was no longer the bumbling eleven-year-old that had first graced the halls of Hogwarts. He was now of average height, muscular, with close-cropped hair, a strong jaw, and sharp eyes. As the heir of a family of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, he could be considered quite a catch.

"I think I would," Susan agreed after considering Neville for a moment.

"Great," Neville said, perking up. "I'll owl you tomorrow."

"OK," Susan smiled.

Just then, the door to Gringotts opened and Harry walked out alone. The Goblins stepped aside, and he made his way down the steps to the podium. He was wearing his blue field marshal's uniform, the same one he was crowned in. He was bare-headed, but wore a sash, his pilot's wings, and a sword belted to his side.

"Blimey, he's wearing Excalibur," Neville murmured to himself. Ron and Susan both gaped at him, then turned to gape at Harry. Harry paused at the podium, cleared his throat, and applied the sonorous charm to himself.

"People of Magical Britain," he began. "Voldemort and his Death Eaters are no more." The crowds cheered, a roaring mass of sound, bound and multiplied by the shops lining the street. Harry waved them down. "You deserve to know how it happened." So he told them.

He started with Tom Riddle, what he knew of the man's childhood, his time at Hogwarts, and his manufacturing of horcruxes. He continued by explaining the prophecy, and the meeting on Halloween 1981. He then explained about Dumbledore's reaction, and Harry's own time at Hogwarts, touching on the attempts by Voldemort to return.

"And so at the end of June 1996, I found myself accosted in the corridor of the Hogwarts Express," he said. "They were agents of a mythical land that was all too real. They had come for me." The people were hanging on his every word at this point. "You see, I was born Harry Potter, Crown Prince of Avalon." Harry paused to let that tidbit sink in. There was dead silence in the street.

"Avalon," Harry said again. "The land of Arthur and Merlin. It's a real place, an island like Britain or Ireland, lost to time. This was by design." He carefully described the history of Avalon as he'd come to know it, starting with the magical seafarers and the loss of Dumnonia. For an hour he spilled the secrets that had been held close for so long. The only thing he kept secret were the nature of Avalon's wards, and their power to protect the island nation.

"Once I was crowned King of Avalon, I set to work to right the wrongs done to Britain as best I could," Harry continued. "For I am a citizen of the United Kingdom and Magical Britain as much as I am of Avalon. You all matter to me, as much as the Avalonians across the sea.

"I started by rescuing those without the means to help themselves," Harry said. "Over the summer of 1996 I evacuated the muggleborns, squibs, and their families. I built them houses, neighbourhoods, schools, and businesses. They flourished in Avalon. Some have elected to remain, but many chose to return to the British Isles to continue here as they have before.

"With the muggleborns safe, I was able to begin planning to stop Voldemort," he continued. There were some gasps at the name, but not many. People were becoming desensitized to it. "My question was how. Magical Britain had a government; one which had been around for centuries. So long as it functioned, as King, I couldn't act. It is a longstanding tradition that Avalon doesn't involve itself in the internal affairs of other nations.

"When Hogwarts fell, and the last vestiges of the old Ministry ended, I acted swiftly," Harry explained. "I consulted with Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth, and the President of the Republic of Ireland, to enlist their support. Then, I called Avalon to arms and invaded. The fighting lasted three days, with most of the important centres, such as Diagon Alley, the Ministry, and Hogwarts, retaken the first day. Voldemort was killed by my hand on the second. The third consisted of mopping up operations in remote areas.

"Over four hundred Death Eaters were killed or captured over those three days," Harry enumerated solemnly. "Avalon lost thirty-two dead, and one hundred five wounded. It is unknown how many British and Irish civilians lost their lives because of Voldemort.

"As rightful conqueror of Magical Britain," Harry continued, "and since both the proper government and usurper government of Magical Britain do not function, it falls to me to restore order to this nation. Therefore, I present you with a new constitution, creating a parliamentary democracy for Magical Britain, so that it may take its place amongst modern nations, both magical and muggle."

He pulled the papers that he and Hermione had laboured over the preceding week off a shelf inside the podium, and began reading. When he'd finished, he looked up. The crowd, as anticipated, looked stunned. Harry nearly laughed, as he'd never seen so many open mouths. Front and centre, Neville was smiling, flanked by his gaping friends.

"Now," Harry finished. "It falls on me to conduct the first elections. Therefore, I will form temporary parties. First, a traditionalist party, for those who hold to the old ways. Second, a centrist party, for those who wish to bridge the gap. Next, a progressive party, for social and economic progressives. Finally, a conservative party, for social and economic conservatives. For those who wish to appear on the ballot, raise your wand and speak the name of the party you wish to stand for. The first one hundred to speak the name of that party will appear on the ballot for that party, and their wand tip will light: grey for traditionalists, red for conservatives, blue for centrists, and white for progressives. In this way, you know who will appear. If you want to stand for election, cast now."

For a moment, no one moved. Then wands jutted into the air, and a cacophony of noise shattered the alley. In moments, it was over, and Harry waved for silence.

"Now that the ballots are set, please proceed to Carkitt Market, where you'll find polling booths where you can elect Magical Britain's first Parliament," Harry instructed. Heads swung over in the direction of Carkitt Market, where more soldiers waited.

It took three hours for everyone to vote. The shops of Diagon did booming business that day. Though Harry hadn't instructed them to, almost everyone waited for the results of the election to be posted. Harry, who hadn't moved from the dais, looked down at the note that appeared on the lectern. It listed one hundred names, as well as the party affiliation. Centrists won the majority, with significant minorities of progressives. Together, they made up four fifths of the new parliament. Conservatives took fifteen percent of the vote, with the Traditionalists sucking hind teat with five percent.

Harry reapplied the sonorous charm and asked for quiet. He proceeded to announce the results of the election alphabetically by last name, noting the person's party affiliation as he did so. He ended by announcing the percentages each party had achieved, again alphabetically by party.

"With the elections concluded, I thank you for your participation in the government of your nation," Harry said. "I would now like to speak with the winners. If they could make their way to the old Ministry Atrium, I would appreciate it." Then, without warning, he apparated away.

xxxxxxx
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xxxxxxx

He arrived in the Atrium, which still showed the scars of battle, despite constant repair work over the course of the past week. The statue of the wizard and other magical creatures had been removed. It had been too scarred—and offensive to Harry's sensibilities—to remain. Harry had replaced it with a statue of three Paras fighting, one of whom looked suspiciously like Hermione. A small plaque at the bottom commemorated the event, reading, "The Battle of the Ministry, August 31, 1997. On this spot, dedicated soldiers of the Parachute Regiment, Royal Army of Avalon, fought Death Eaters for the Freedom of Magical Britain."

Harry was admiring the statue when the first of the newly elected parliament arrived. Surprisingly, the last two of the new body arrived via the visitor's entrance. It turned out they were muggles. One was the spouse of a wizard, the other the father of a witch. Also present were a goblin and two house elves. He noticed the tell-tale golden eyes and shabby dress of a werewolf amongst the crowd as well.

As they gathered, everyone had eyes for Harry, yet none approached him. They hung back in groups, taking in the appearance of the Atrium. He noticed Madam Longbottom and Madam Bones engaged in hushed conversations off to the side. He was glad they'd been elected. Harry didn't recognize anyone else until Ted Tonks nodded to Harry from behind a group of witches.

When everyone was there, Harry began.

"Welcome to the new Magical British government," Harry said, smiling. "You will do much to shape how this government works in practice, and set new traditions for Magical Britain. The first thing you need to do is decide who speaks for you." Harry split them by party and had them elect party leaders. Augusta was elected the leader of the centrists, and Amelia was selected as leader of the progressives. Harry didn't know the other leaders, even by reputation. It was clear that the centrists and progressives would be working together, against the 'loyal opposition' of the traditionalists and conservatives.

"Madam Longbottom," Harry said. "We're going to need to take a little trip."

"I'm hardly dressed to meet the Queen," Augusta protested, guessing correctly that she was to be Prime Minister, as the leader of the majority party and coalition.

"Then you'd better transfigure yourself something nicer," Harry said. "Because that's where we're going." He turned to the rest of them. "In the meantime, you lot can head down to the old Wizengamot chambers. It's to be the new home of Parliament. I think you'll like what I've done with the place." He turned back to Augusta. "Do you trust Madam Bones to start cobbling together a government in your absence?"

"Yes," Augusta said, some of the gravitas returning. "Madam Bones, if you would lead the selection of a speaker in my absence, and begin consultations towards establishing the necessary apparatus of government, I'd be most appreciative."

"Consider it done, Madam Prime Minister," Amelia agreed. Harry rolled his eyes, hearing the playfulness in Madam Bones' tone. He then took Madam Longbottom's hand, and apparated her to the 1844 Room in Buckingham Palace. He poked his head out the door and spoke to someone Madam Longbottom couldn't see.

"We'll have to wait a few minutes," Harry told her. "The Queen just returned from Princess Diana's funeral at Westminster Abbey."

"The poor woman," Augusta observed. Harry nodded silently and sat, gesturing for Augusta to do the same. They passed the time chatting about how the government should be set up, with Harry voicing his opinions on the matter, and Madam Longbottom countering with other ideas. Harry was surprised that they agreed more often than not, and that Harry's ideas were largely acceptable to the ageing witch.

In the middle of their conversation the door opened, and the short, elderly queen entered.

"Harry, so good to see you again," the queen said as Harry and Madam Longbottom stood.

"Ma'am," Harry said, taking her hand. "My condolences. I'm sure this has been one of the most difficult things to suffer through."

"Another Annus Horriblis," the queen chuckled darkly. This close, Harry could see the red eyes. It wasn't surprising, but refreshing to see confirmed what he already knew: the queen was a human being.

I can understand that," Harry agreed. "May I present the newly elected leader of the Magical British government, Madam Augusta Longbottom?"

"A pleasure," the queen said, taking Madam Longbottom's hand.

"Your Majesty," Augusta began. "The pleasure is mine. It is one of the most thrilling moments of my life to meet you."

"It is my hope that we shall meet often during your term in office," the queen replied. "My door is always open to you. You need only ask. I hope to treat you as I would the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom. You do remind me a bit of Lady Thatcher."

"We share a certain… determined outlook on life," Madam Longbottom allowed.

"You seem well suited for the job," the queen observed. She took a short look at Madam Longbottom and then stated formally, "I would like to invite you to take the office of Prime Minister of Magical Britain. Will you accept and form a government?"

"I will, ma'am," Madam Longbottom said. "Thank you." The queen nodded.

"Thank you, Madam Longbottom," Harry said. "Thank you for taking up this role, and working with the framework provided to you. Now, I think that Madam Bones could probably use your assistance in forming the executive ministries."

"Quite," Madam Longbottom said, nodding. "Your Majesties, if you'll excuse me." Then she apparated away.

"Magic is fascinating…" the queen muttered. "Even having seen it for years, it still amazes me."

"Ma'am…" Harry started.

"Harry," the queen cut him off. "We're both royalty. I've told you in private that you may call me by my Christian name."

"As you say," Harry deflected.

"My family calls me Lilibet," the queen pressed. "I'd like if you did the same."

"Ma'am…" Harry protested.

"Charlus calls me Lilibet," the queen revealed.

"I don't wish to appear disrespectful," Harry said. "I might be royalty, but here you're my monarch as well."

"I'm giving you leave to do so," the queen said. "It is my wish. I see you as a close advisor, as almost a member of my family."

"In that case, grandmother might be more appropriate," Harry observed with a cheeky grin, finally letting his guard down.

"Then you may call me that," the queen allowed. A smile crossed her face. "I can't help but feel that you think me old."

"Not so old," Harry replied. "Charlus is far older."

"Hardly," the queen laughed. "A decade perhaps, no more."

"Nearly two," Harry countered. "He's already a great grandfather."

"You're a good sport, Harry," the queen said.

"You too, grandma," Harry grinned back.

xxxxxxx
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xxxxxxx

The Weasley clan stepped off the airliner into the winter wonderland that was Camelot. It had snowed, and everything was draped in a sparkling carpet of white. Ron looked around before hustling into the terminal building. There was no need to collect their luggage, as the trunks had been shrunk beforehand and carried onto the aeroplane.

The terminal was bustling with people, or at least, bustling for a magical community. Many of the muggleborn families were flying out to Britain and Ireland to spend time with distant family. Ron couldn't believe his eyes. Outside of that September day in Diagon, he'd not seen so many magicals in one place.

A man in a black trench coat approached them from the crowd.

"Mr. Weasley?" the man asked Bill.

"Yes?" Bill replied.

"If you and your family could please step this way, I'll take you to the castle," the man informed him. Without another word, the Weasleys followed the man back out into the cold. Ron couldn't help but think how enamoured his father would've been with the place. There were cars everywhere. It looked just like the muggle world, except some people were doing random bits of magic out in the open. The man led them up to where an old limousine was parked at the kerb. The family piled into the expanded interior, fitting comfortably.

"Bloke sure knows how to roll out the red carpet," Fred observed, looking around at the posh interior of the car.

Ron said nothing, conflicted feelings rolling around in his head. He hadn't seen Harry since that Saturday in September when the war had ended. He'd written, and received replies, several of which had borne unwelcome news. He'd learned, to his chagrin, the Harry and Hermione were together. He, and his sister, had always thought that Harry would end up with Ginny, and he would woo Hermione. He supposed there was still time, but seeing as Hermione lived here, and Ginny didn't, and they didn't attend the same schools, that such pairings would prove most difficult.

In any case, Ron had resigned himself, however difficult that had been, to the reality. He'd instead set his sights on wooing other girls. He was currently working—with moderate success—on Hannah Abbott with the support and encouragement of both Neville Longbottom and his girlfriend Susan Bones.

It still rubbed Ron a little raw that Harry, Hermione, and Neville had become the heroes. It made it difficult at first for Ron to like Neville, who he saw as a usurper. But after a spectacular blow-up earlier in the year after which Neville had laid out the harsh truths to the boy, things had settled, and Ron found Neville to be an acceptable substitute for his best mate. Ron now occupied a comfortable position as Neville's sidekick. This came with the benefit that Neville regularly accompanied Susan Bones around the castle, who invariably brought her sidekick, and Ron's intended future partner, making his pursuit of her easier.

He'd largely been able to repress his feelings about Harry as Harry was no longer about. There was an adage about being out of sight and out of mind that Ron nearly abused through continued use. In fact, he only really thought about Harry or Hermione when one of them wrote to him or Neville, which was about once a month. That had made the invitation Harry had proffered to the Weasley clan to enjoy Christmas with him and his new family a rather jarring experience for Ron. Suddenly, he was confronted with the feelings he'd been repressing for nearly four months. He sighed.

One of the things they'd discussed in their correspondence was the degree to which Headmaster Dumbledore had influenced his mother, and by extension him and his sister. Ron had apologised, as had Ginny. They both made it clear that none of it had been their idea, and that several aspects of the headmaster's instructions had made them quite uncomforatble. He sighed again.

The car pulled to a stop and Ron looked out the window. They were in a large enclosed courtyard. Stone ramparts rose above them, pierced with turrets. They had arrived at Camelot Castle. The door opened, revealing Harry and Hermione bundled against the cold. Harry had a huge smile plastered on his face and Hermione was hanging on his arm. For the briefest of moments, Ron felt an indescribable rage, which he ferociously tamped down as quickly as he could. He would be happy for his friends. He put a smile on his face and exited the car.

"Ron, mate!" Harry said joyfully. "We've missed you." Harry left Hermione behind and wrapped Ron up in a bear hug.

"Erm…" Ron stammered, unsure how he was supposed to respond. "Your Maj…"

"You finish that bloody phrase, Ron, and I'll shove so much snow down your trousers your piss'll be frozen for a month," Harry threatened. "To you, and to any Weasley ever, I'm Harry."

"Thank Merlin," Ron sighed, relieved that at least the protocol issue had been solved.

"Welcome Weasleys," Harry said. "Hey Ginny." He hugged her too, just as enthusiastically has he had Ron. When he finished his hugs with the Weasley matriarch, Hermione moved in for her own hugs with Ron, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley, which contained all the friendliness they always had.

"Well, come on, you lot," Harry said at last, having shaken hands with the twins, Bill, and Charlie. "The rest of the gang's inside, so let's get you lot settled, and then you can join in the fun!" Harry led them through the castle, pointing out the different buildings and passing through the gardens to his apartments.

"Look, Gred!" George pointed out. "Actual red carpet!"

"Excellent, Forge," Fred replied. "Good to see Harry knows how to take care of his guests."

"Yes, well, this is where I must leave you," Harry said in the entry hall. "Margaret!" he called. A house elf appeared. "Margaret is one of the elves on staff here." He turned to her. "Please show the Weasleys to their quarters, and lead them back here when they're finished unpacking."

"Yes, sir," Margaret agreed. Despite Harry's best efforts, he hadn't been able to get the elves to call him Harry. He had decided to continue the struggle as long as it took.

The elf led the Weasley clan upstairs to some empty rooms on the second floor. Everyone got their own rooms. Ron found his was actually a suite, with its own loo. He fiddled with the telly for a moment, marvelling that the thing worked with magic all around. Finally, Bill poked his head in.

"You ready yet?" he asked. Ron quickly turned out his pockets, depositing his shrunken trunk on the bed to deal with later, and shed his coat, which joined the trunk on the bed.

"Yep," Ron replied. The family trooped back downstairs behind the elf, Margaret. Ron thought it was too normal a name for an elf, but then repressed that thought. A lot had changed in the last four months. There were elves in parliament. They were normal beings, just like him. That was another change Harry was responsible for. The elf stopped back in the entrance hall, and opened a door into a large library brimming with people. Ron took one step inside and stopped.

"Hi Ron." It was Hannah. She was standing with Neville and Susan, and they were talking with Tracey Davis and Megan Jones. Behind them, Ron spotted Luna Lovegood, and a man who was dressed in such eye-watering attire that he could only be her father. He spotted Remus Lupin and Tonks in another corner, talking animatedly with some other people he recognized from his time at Grimmauld Place a few years ago. They were all from the Order of the Phoenix. Hermione and Harry were right by the door, waiting to welcome them.

"I can't believe it," Ron said, as he went up to Hannah, skipping past Harry and Hermione, who'd struck up conversations with Bill and the twins. His mother breezed past him to talk with the other Order members. Hannah gave him a quick hug. They'd started doing that recently. Ron was unsure what the protocol was regarding progressing to cheek kisses, but wanted to move things in that direction.

"Harry invited all of us," Neville said when Ron parted from his almost girlfriend. "He wanted to reunite old friends, and share the splendour of Camelot with us Brits."

"It's a pretty impressive place," Ron allowed.

"Except for Harry's family, everyone here either lives or did live in Britain," Neville informed him.

"I recognized a lot of people," Ron allowed.

"It should be a smashing Christmas," Neville said.

"Hey, what's floating over your head?" Tracey Davis interjected. Ron looked up. There was an unmistakable sprig of mistletoe hovering not ten centimetres over his head. He quickly looked around and saw the twins snickering next to Harry, who had a grin on his face. Fred was palming his wand.

"It looks like mistletoe," Susan said.

"There's nothing for it, then," Hannah sighed. "I guess I'll have to take care of that." Then she grinned, grabbed his face and kissed him soundly. Neville wolf-whistled, and Megan Jones gave a catcall. Despite going beet-red, it was going to be a good Christmas after all.

xxxxxxx
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xxxxxxx

"You're going to be a daddy," Hermione said.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked hopefully. There was a note of wonder in his voice.

"Yes," Hermione replied. "The doctor confirmed it."

"That's wonderful, 'Mione," Harry said, rising and wrapping her in a gentle hug and a kiss. It hadn't taken long at all, which wasn't surprising considering how enthusiastically they'd been trying for a child.

Harry had proposed after they'd passed their A levels in the spring of 1998. It had been a long engagement, with Harry, and surprisingly, Hermione, attending the Royal Military Academy. When they'd graduated together three years later, they'd tied the knot. Hermione, subsequently Queen Hermione of Avalon, had then enrolled at the Royal University to sit for a dual masters in charms and social work. Two years later, she'd graduated, and the couple had started to seriously try for heirs.

Not that they hadn't been 'trying' before. The 'trying' had started even before their engagement, but following her attaining her masters, Hermione had stopped using the charms and potions and simply let nature take its course.

"I can't believe it only took a month," Harry wondered.

"Less than that," Hermione corrected. "The doctor said I was about a month along."

"So we got pregnant almost immediately?" Harry asked, shocked.

"It only takes one time," Hermione laughed.

"And we've done it quite a bit more than that," Harry agreed. "Do you want to ring up your parents?" After the wedding, the Grangers had decamped to a semi-detached residence near Dr. Granger's surgery. Major Granger, now promoted to Colonel and officially military attaché to Her Majesty's ambassador to Avalon, was in the Ministry of Defence more often than not, talking shop with Tom, whom he'd grown close to.

"I'll invite them to tea," Hermione replied, pulling Harry down onto the couch and cuddling up with him. "What are you doing today?"

"Little of this, little of that," Harry replied. He'd been reviewing the National budget. He was expected to make some recommendations, even if he had no real say in the matter. Harry also had a scheduled meeting with Avalon's representative to the ICW later, and another with the British Ambassador regarding trade.

The outing of the secret had actually gone much better than Harry had anticipated. Trade had increased five-fold. The economy was booming. Avalon had developed into both a trendsetter and a hot vacation destination in the magical world. His people adored him.

It meant an increased workload for Harry generally, though he did get back to Britain every few months or so. He had a fantastic working relationship with the Queen, and a healthy relationship with the new Magical British government. The Magical British Ambassador was actually expected… They were interrupted by a knock on the door. Neville poked his head in. …expected now, apparently.

"Hey Nev," Harry said. "Here for lunch?"

"You bet," Neville replied. He pulled Susan Longbottom in with him.

"Hi Susan," Hermione greeted from her spot.

"Hi," Susan said cheerily.

Five minutes later the four friends were sitting around the table enjoying roast beef sandwiches and crisps. It was an odd meal for a monarch, but Harry refused to change his habits to suit his station. He did have treacle tart a bit more than he'd had before, but that was neither here nor there.

"I do have a bit of business to do today," Neville said when the conversation had reached a lull.

"Oh?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Neville said. "Justin Finch-Fletchley would like it if you could grease the wheels for him with the Foreign Ministry. He's applying for a license to export tellys and other electronics to Britain."

"I don't see why that should be a problem," Harry agreed. "He did graduate from the Royal University, after all. Business, I believe."

"That's right," Neville affirmed. "He's been making waves over in Britain lately. He opened the first magical department store. Called it 'Justin's'."

"I suppose 'Finch-Fletchley's' is quite a mouthful," Harry agreed. "We'll have to pop in the next time we're over there."

"Any idea when that'll be?" Neville asked.

"Either the next few months, or two or three years from now, I'd imagine," Harry replied, looking at his wife. She nodded imperceptibly. "It's yours to tell," he said.

"Oh, all right," she huffed, then brightened. "We're pregnant!"

"Congratulations, you lot," Neville and Susan said.

"Just found out today," Harry explained.

"You're actually the first people we've told," Hermione said.

"I imagine we'll tell a few more people at Frank and Tracey's wedding next weekend," Harry added. "After we tell Hermione's parents, of course."

"Then we'll have to announce it in Parliament, and the whole world will know," Hermione said with a smile.

"You were never destined for a normal life, were you?" Susan asked Harry.

"Not by a long shot," Harry replied happily. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

THE END