Notes: * M rated for mature readers, adult content. * For your interest: Eden is a real town on the coast of NSW, Australia. It is much as described.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter & his world belongs to J. K. Rowling, and the original concept of the Hecatemus belongs to author pen-name, Beren.


Part 2/Chapter 15, Final Chapter:


Harry quickly settled into school life, making friends, and working hard to learn the work. There was just one fist-fight early on, but Harry was not a novice at Muggle fighting, and earned himself the right not to be bullied. And no-one called him the Chosen One or the Boy Who Lived, no-one spoke of his Destiny, and no-one knew anything about Hecatemae. He thought it was great. And being with Jeanne and Andre, that was incredible, wonderful, amazing! It was like a constant warm glow inside him. The girls, too. He had a family, something he'd lacked for nearly all of his childhood.

The baby arrived on the seventh September. Andre was pleased and proud, Jeanne was a loving mother, and Harry was totally enthralled. Luckily, so were the girls, or they might have been jealous of the attention that baby Etienne received. They were just at the age when girls adore being in charge of a baby. When they went for walks, Jeanne had to organise a roster to determine whether Berthe or Marie would have the privilege of pushing the pram. When they went onto the beach, they used a carrier. It was called a 'Kangaroo Pouch,' which held the baby snugly against the chest of one of the adults, usually Harry.

Margot stayed on, living in her wing of the large house, and acting as a sort of an honorary grandmother. Joseph had written from home that someone had told him there was a community of Squibs with a few wizards, living near Mallacoota, which was just over the border into Victoria. She was contemplating making herself known once she located them. She doubted if they had a healer, though she'd heard there was a very good Muggle doctor in Mallacoota.

For Albus Dumbledore, life was also sweet. There was no need for him to venture onto the streets of Eden. The house-elves were accustomed to using the phone to order whatever groceries he wanted, and had no trouble keeping him supplied with excellent meals. The house was invariably clean and tidy. It was what made them happy.

When the old man went out, he preferred the bustle and the entertainment of Sydney to the quiet streets of the little town. He was a regular at a particular cinema, which had especially comfortable seats, good for old bones. There were also live shows, some enjoyably risqué. And there was the most marvelous lolly shop he'd discovered.

He struck up an acquaintance with Liam Jones, a man whom everyone called Queen Lye, though Liam hadn't explained just how he'd earned the nickname. Nearly every Saturday evening, he liked to saunter along Oxford Street, Sydney, sometimes with Liam, sometimes on his own. Liam liked to wear tight leather at these times, though he was no longer young, and had a small potbelly.

Following his example, Dumbledore's clothing became more interesting as well. He didn't feel out of place. Oxford Street was full of interesting people, dressed in all sorts of interesting ways. He couldn't wait for the Gay Mardi Gras, but that was not until February, late Summer. Gay was good. Gay was happy. He hadn't yet worked out that in Muggle culture, gay meant something else as well.

Life was peaceful, and it was only when Aberforth told him that old crimes were being uncovered, that Dumbledore started to fret a little at his exile. This was only supposed to be a temporary refuge, until things died down. He'd always intended to return to a position of power and respect, even if not under his own name. Would Janus Hildebrande be recognised, if he showed up? He strongly suspected he would be, and Polyjuice Potion was not a long-term option. He wished that 'Glamours' were more than a fictional device. He chuckled to himself, - if Glamours were possible, there would not be an ugly wizard or witch on the planet!


December, full Summer, and Dumbledore focused his telescope on the young men and women of the Surf Lifesaving Club. There was some sort of a competition, with flags, groups of people in brightly coloured swimmers, and officials, dressed hardly more formally than anyone else, but wearing a distinctive vest over their shirts, or in a couple of cases, over bare chests.

Families were settling down on the sand, and he turned his telescope on a pair of girls in skimpy bikinis, then started picking out several regular beachgoers he'd come to recognise from his hours spent in this room.

The stout woman, with her even stouter husband. They seemed to be minding several children, all about six or seven. The children were dashing to and fro, and Dumbledore smiled, thinking that he was quite glad to be removed from the noise. Girls of that age were always such squealers. There was the thin, grey-haired woman with her pair of poodles. Dumbledore had nicknamed her Minerva. The usual collection of surfers, in their black wetsuits. He wondered sometimes just what they did with their time, aside from sitting on their boards, waiting for a good wave.

There was the family with the young baby. As well as the baby, there were a couple of girl children, and a teenage boy, not currently in sight. They had the grandmother with them. Albus Dumbledore felt a sudden twinge of loneliness. He'd like to be part of a happy gathering like that. Maybe it was time he tried the beach again. It was a pleasant, sunny day, now that Winter was over. Maybe he should try and make more friends. As it was, not even the immediate neighbours knew him. Only Muggles, of course, but Liam was a Muggle, and he was good company.

He dressed carefully, white trousers, nicely cut, a lilac shirt, bloused loose, cream coloured shoes, and he carried a parasol to keep off the sun, in a deeper lilac, almost purple. For only the second time in Eden, he was visiting the beach. He didn't go onto the sand. He didn't like sand, but there was a convenient path running along the top of the rise, and he could see the beach quite clearly. There were already people sitting on the garden seat he wanted, but a surreptitious spell had them deciding to join the crowd on the sand. Dumbledore settled himself, and turned his gaze to the activity on the beach.

There was a group of three stray dogs, racing around, doing their best to disrupt the events. He chuckled as a bikini girl chased them away, threatening murder if she stepped in any more of their 'doings.' It was all very amusing, and he forgot for a time that he was unable to return to where he belonged.

His gaze returned to the family he sort of knew, though he'd never seen them close. The mother appeared to be discreetly feeding her baby, under the shelter of a towel. The father looked a little familiar, though he couldn't be, of course. He had long hair, worn loose, but he knew that some Muggles did wear their hair that way. They were talking together, though their girls had joined several other girls of a similar age. Even they seemed to be in some sort of a competition, and he watched as they lay flat on the sand, then at the signal, jumped up and raced to the far end. They were wearing swimmers of that same colour as many of the older competitors, and the old man decided that it must be like a uniform for the Lifesaving club. He was surprised that children so young were included.

A little further from him, they were setting up for some sort of a race, three groups of four youths, each gathered around a little rubber boat. When a whistle shrieked, the boat was grabbed, and raced into the water, frantically paddled around a buoy, and returned to the beach. One group was hindered by one of the boys stumbling in the sand, and he laughed as the boy was wrenched to his feet, and resumed running. He had long hair too, he noticed, but worn in a long pony tail. Black hair, and he flinched. Black hair like Potter's. Potter, the one who'd ruined his life.

He couldn't go back to his world thanks to Potter. In Aberforth's latest letter, he'd told him that they'd somehow discovered what he'd done to the Ogden heir, though he'd been sure he'd left no evidence of his involvement. That was the fourth serious crime they'd linked him to, according to his brother. It never occurred to him that his only source of information might lie to him.

Could that youth be Potter? It looked like him, and he wished he could hear his voice, but the noise of the waves drowned out any hope of that. He knew that Potter and Melenchon had left Britain, but didn't know that Jeanne was with them. And anyway, why would they be consorting with Muggles if they didn't have to be?

He watched the boy obsessively for a time, and still wasn't sure. It was only when he returned to his home, and turned the telescope on him that he knew beyond doubt. Harry Potter, the boy who'd ruined it all. If he killed him, then the Bond-Mate would also die. Maybe it was easier to kill the Bond-Mate, causing Harry to die. Harry was Hecatemus, and far more powerful than himself now, too dangerous to tackle directly. He was laughing with three other boys of his own age, probably telling jokes. He was having a good time. Dumbledore was furious. Harry was happy! He had no right to be happy!

Like Voldemort, Dumbledore liked elaborate plans. There would be nothing too simple, and the pair would walk calmly into their deserved punishment. Not the woman and children. He had nothing against them, and wasn't even quite sure why they were with the Hecatema couple. It would be fitting to have Potter die on the first anniversary of being Bonded by Andre, but that was only a few days away, and Dumbledore wondered what other suitable date could be set. Halloween was far too far away, and so was Harry's birthday. Melenchon's birthday? He didn't know when Melenchon's birthday might be.

He thought about it for the next few weeks, turning over plans in his mind. He wanted to punish as well as to kill, and something simple was not enough for him.

For Harry, it was the Christmas School Holidays, six weeks when he could surf and swim, and grow tanned in the sun. His swimming was not yet strong enough to serve duty as a Lifesaver, but he was working on it. After all, he could hardly say that he could simply spell the drowning person ashore. There were friends, the only complication being the girls who thought he should be their boyfriend. But Harry was very much in love with his Bond-Mates, Andre and Jeanne. There was no place in his life for a girlfriend.

Hermione was the only person in Britain who knew their assumed names, and where they were. There were still enemies, especially as Harry counted reporters as enemies, though Andre was trying to change that attitude. In January, Harry would be entering Year 12 in Australia, their final year of Highschool, while Hermione was in the middle of seventh year at Hogwarts.

Hermione was working very hard, not only studying for her NEWTs, but absorbing wizarding lore like a sponge. She cultivated the purebloods, quizzing them on the culture, and trying to learn the names and faces of those who had influence. Hermione wanted as much power as a Muggle-born could have, - not power as Voldemort had wanted, but she was filled with zeal to change her world. Things would improve. Things would be more fair for everyone, the barbarity forgotten.

She studied pictures of the former inmates of Azkaban that had been featured recently in newspapers, trying again to find family willing to take responsibility. A dozen men, their minds destroyed by exposure to Dementors, now unable to fend for themselves. She smiled to herself. Harry had finally admitted exterminating the Dementors, though claiming it had been out of temper and fear rather than from any 'higher' motive. She knew better. Harry was good and noble, and she was quite sure that the deed had been from his nobility, not because he was frightened of finding himself in their power.


Dumbledore gave up the idea of waiting for a significant date to exact his revenge. He decided on the fourteenth of January. He had it all planned. Harry Potter would suffer, his Soul Mate with him. There would be no escape for them. They didn't even know he lived so close. They expected nothing. They were careless, and every time that Dumbledore watched them on the beach, he enjoyed knowing how short their remaining life was to be, and how painful their demise. They looked far too happy.

The Saturday before the plan was to be executed, Dumbledore dressed himself as carefully as he always did, and apparated to a discreet spot close to his favourite haunts. Feeling full of optimism and good cheer, he strolled to where Liam was to meet him.

After a half hour, he looked at the mobile phone that had been presented to him by Liam, pressed dubiously at a couple of the tiny buttons, then shrugged, and strolled away. Liam would not be with him that night.

A thin girl, wearing a mini-skirt, a vivacious expression, and little else, nudged her companion, indicated the old man in the colourful garb, and said, "You still betting?"

"He's too old. You won't get any money out of him!"

"$100 if I do!"

Dumbledore was surprised when he was approached. There were always girls about, a few boys, but he hadn't expected one to approach him. He asked cautiously, "What's a blowjob?"

She explained, and he smiled, already becoming excited. You only live once, after all. He asked, "Do you want something for it?"

Kerri laughed, "Well, yeah!!! Why do you think I'd offer?"

Dumbledore looked at her, a benign twinkle in his eyes, "You might like me."

"How much you got, mister?"

Dumbledore pulled out his wallet, and said, uncertainly, "About five hundred dollars, I think."

"Give me the wallet, I'll take out my price, and give you the time of your life."

Dumbledore blinked, and then tamely held out his wallet, only saying, "I need enough to get home, and maybe for dinner."

"Sure," said Kerri, and left him $60, taking $495 for herself. She grinned. This was the most profitable and the most stupid john she'd ever had.

It took a long time, but Kerri thought she should give good value. She didn't expect the old man to clutch his chest immediately afterward, and die. She guessed there were some things such old men just shouldn't do. She kept the money he'd given her, refrained from taking the remaining $60, and readjusted his clothing before calling for an ambulance. She thought the old man should be grateful. She could simply have left the body, alone in the alley.

Liam was sick in hospital, and there was no-one else in Sydney who knew even his false name. After a while, Albus Dumbledore, once thought of as the greatest wizard of the day, was buried at state expense. There was a marker, 'No. 1203(m) Died 12/1/98.'


Jeanne moved sensuously in her bed. Sex was out of this world, with Andre, and with Harry. She'd always enjoyed sex, - but it was far more now than it had ever been before the Bonding! And Magic had promised that if she became pregnant by Harry, to give him a Potter heir, then the child would definitely not be Hecatema or Hecatemus. She smiled as she remembered the argument. Harry had shouted at Her that She was not to make more Hecatemae, and anyway he'd had himself sterilised! And Magic had insisted that Hecatemae were her special children, which was why she found them the best mate possible. And then there had been that arrogance, I am Magic! I will make a child for you. But She'd agreed in the end that none of Harry's descendants would be Hecatemae, male or female.

She turned her head to look at the youth who was already sound asleep beside her. She was part mother, part lover to Harry. They shared a Bond, all of them. They knew each other's happiness.

And Magic. She'd never thought that one could speak with Magic as if She was human. She grinned to herself. She'd never thought that one could shout at Magic, but Harry had. Of course, he was Hecatemus. Even the textbooks said that Hecatemae had a different relationship with magic than ordinary wizards. She wondered when Etienne would have a baby brother. Magic had promised, and it was March now. If the baby was already conceived, Etienne would be fifteen months old when the new one was born. His surname would be Potter, but they hadn't discussed a first name. Maybe it was a little early yet.


The End.