May 2nd

Hogsmeade, Scotland, inside The Three Broomsticks

Solon read the paper in his hand with much interest. It read:

To all personal in the northern region: Harry Potter has just been spotted breaking out of Gringotts and heading due north. Report any sightings of Potter immediately and stand by for further instructions.

Solon had his enchanted coin ready and called Thomas.

“Yes, sir?” asked Thomas, “What is it?”

Solon let out a sigh and said, “The final battle is about to begin. Potter is heading north, probably here, his old stomping grounds. Given his recent loss of stealth as well as the resources his foe has, the two of them will do battle either here or at Hogwarts. When they do, they will both call upon their allies for help. I'll head off with the others to intercept the European allies. But you have a choice. You can either head off with me or stay here. If you stay here, you'll probably end up fighting in the final battle for Britannia. Or you can head up with me and hold back the Europeans.”

“Sir,” Thomas asked nervously, “Do you really think I'm ready?”

“No one is ever really ready for battle,” Solon answered in a firm voice, “But I think I've trained you such that you're more likely to survive.”

“Thanks, professor,” Thomas said, “I think I will stay here. Who knows, maybe I'm the one that defeats...him.”

“Worry less on those you want to fight and more on those you need to fight,” Solon replied, “Frankly, you'll probably be fighting his minions, who are powerful in their own rights.”

“Of course sir,” Thomas answered sheepishly.

Solon smiled at him and said, “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll do fine.” And with that, he headed off into the night.

Sometime later in the evening

As Alecto Carrow alerted Voldemort that Potter was in Hogwarts, allies of the Dark Lord were over the North Sea, heading to Hogwarts. The sky was filled with hundreds of Dark wizards, riding brooms, or carpets, or whatever suited them best. Expecting no trouble at all, they were surprised when they saw a group of wizards, smaller then their band, a few kilometers away. The wizards slowed, wondering who could be stupid enough to stand in their way

“In the name of the International Confederation of Wizards,” shouted the lead man, presumably the leader, “You are forbidden to enter Britannia. Move any closer and you will be detained. What is your reply?”

The dark wizards’ response was hurling bolts of magic into the crowd. “Right then,” answered an unsurprised Solon, who looked to his group and said “Men, return fire!”

Beams of light lit the night sky as Solon and his men fought the dark wizards off the coast of Britain. Despite their numbers, they were to keep the tide of dark wizards at bay, though a few did break through the line and meet up with the Death Eaters. Exhausted and suffering heavy losses, the dark wizards fled back to mainland Europe, leaving their dead in the open seas. The battle was over, but at a heavy cost. Over half of Solon’s men were now floating face down in the North Sea, while the rest, including Solon himself, bore scars and injuries that needed attending to. After gathering up their dead, they headed to their rally point, a several kilometers south of Hogsmeade. In no condition to continue fighting, Solon and his men tended to their wounds. He would be awaken in the early morning by a very tired, but very cheerful, Thomas.

“Sir you missed it!” exclaimed Thomas, “I was there! I fought at Hogwarts, fought Death Eaters, avoided being stepped on by giants, and saw one pissed off redhead kill you-know-who’s number one bitch! And Potter was there and…,” Thomas paused and finally noticed the bandages his professor was wearing, “Sir, what happened to you yesterday?”

Solon smiled and answered, “Don’t worry, I’m fine. Would it be safe to say that we won and he is defeated?” Thomas nodded. “Good,” said Solon, “Now as long Ferrari keeps his part of the bargain and I never hear from him again, I’ll be good.”

And so Solon and Thomas swapped tales, safe in the knowledge that Voldemort was defeated and, more importantly, they had survived.

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Epilogue

May 9th

Hogwarts, Headmaster’s chambers  

The school was quiet. Exams were canceled and all the children have returned home. McGonagall knew that even if she did keep the students in school, there was no way that any of them would have studied. Too many things have happened. Too many of them have family or friends to welcome home or bury or otherwise say good-bye to. Besides, the castle was in no way fit to house and teach the children. It’ll take weeks, if not months, to rebuild everything. Lost in her mountain of paperwork, she was surprised when she heard a knock on the door. Probably another ministry official, she thought glumly. “Come,” she said.

In walked an important looking wizard wearing a sigil with the initials C.M.I. “Good evening, Headmistress,” he said, “I’m Giuseppe Ferrari. We’ve corresponded via one Charles Weasley.”

“Ah yes, the Italian,” McGonagall said, still looking over her paperwork, “Take a seat. As you can see, I’m quite busy.”

“I see,” replied Ferrari, “Very well, then. I wish to assist you in the rebuilding of your school.”

Suspiciously McGonagall eyed Ferrari, “And just why would you want to do that?”

“Simple”, said a beaming Ferrari, “It’ll benefit the both of us. Unless I’m mistaken, you need to find a new transfiguration professor, muggle studies professor, defense against the dark arts professor, and a new head professor for Gryffindor. And that’s only if Professor Slughorn decides to stay. Add to that the large influx of students that will require both an expansion of the castle as well as at least two professors per subject. At least.

“I’m more then aware of the issues in the upcoming school year,” McGonagall answered, “And unless you have anything pertainent to say, I must ask you to leave.”

“Forgive me, Headmistress,” said Ferrari, his hands up, “I meant no offense. I only wish to inform you that I know several mages who specialize in castle expansion and restoration and are willing to work for you at a reasonable price. I must also inform you that there are at least ten professors, all of them the best in their respective fields, ready to teach at this renowned school of yours, if you so wish. You won’t even have to pay their salaries. That will be provided for by me and my associates.”

“That’s rather generous of you,” replied McGonagall, “But I must ask why. What are you asking for in return?”

“The professors and castle workers believe that working at this famous school will improve their respective businesses,” explained Ferrari, “The experience that the two groups will gain from here will help me with my own agenda. And in the mean time, you’ll have the professors that you need, teaching your students in the here and now.”

“Your offer is tempting,” said an unwilling McGonagall, “I’ll admit that much. Tell me, who do you plan on having for Defenses against the Dark Arts? That is the most troublesome position we have here and, given recent events, the most important. If I think your candidate is suited for the job, I’ll have no issue hiring the rest of them.”

Ferrari smiled a salesman’s smile. “Tell me,” he said, “what have heard of certain Albert Solon?”