Off Course: The Delivery Boy and the Boy Savior

AN: Final Chapter and the Epilogue, everybody!*iz sad but happy*

Shout out to Eric Kripke and his show, Supernatural. Go watch that shit. It's made of epic win.

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DISCLAIMER: I own nothing! Nothing, I say.

Non Crisis Core compliant. Non HBP/DH compliant (especially that awful Epilogue… If I wanted that kind of shit, I'd watch a Disney movie…) with references to certain plotlines.

WARNINGS: Language, minor character death, previous time-travel, inter-dimensional travel, swords and guns, gods, goddesses, aftermath of extreme child abuse (brief), violence, gore, blood, torture (mentioned), angst, magic, mentorship, and, last but not least, twisted, twisted humor at inappropriate times. And some slash-y undertones, but you can ignore them.

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CHAPTER THREE: The Night Is Over

PART ONE: Ain't No Way to Hide Your Lying Eyes

Friendship was a fragile thing. Yes, one could draw great strength from it. But in the end, it could be easily broken like glass smashed against stone. It could be lost with a single lie. Withered from neglect. Yet it was betrayal that could shatter friendship into pieces so small that not even tweezers or magic could pick up the pieces. And so Harry Potter no longer had friends amongst the wizards and witches of Hogwarts. Too many hurts and too many lies. It was too late to apologize, even if there were others who didn't or didn't want to realize.

Luna Lovegood knew, oh she knew, that Harry's friendship was lost to them. She looked up at her boyfriend, Neville Longbottom, with sad blue eyes.

"Luna?" Neville queried softly.

"Our flame will be leaving us soon," the blonde girl said, for once sounding semi-lucid. "He is a phoenix reborn from the ashes." She shook her head, her radish earrings swaying in time with the motion. "The Nargles are weeping, Neville."

"It's his choice, Lu. We let him down." The brown-eyed boy hunched his shoulders a little in shame. "But at least we're not like Hermione and Ron."

"Poor consolation, beloved."

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Gryffindor was boycotting him, Ron just knew it.

This wasn't supposed to be like this! He, Ronald Weasley, was supposed to be praised for managing to survive Harry's friendship. That boy was a danger. A danger! But he needed that friendship in order to pave the way to greatness. He wanted to finally surpass his brothers by using that green-eyed bastard. The redhead seethed as another Gryff snubbed him by refusing to play chess. Sore losers, the lot of them! And now he no longer had Potter to use as a buffer against Hermione's nagging and whinging.

Merlin's saggy left nut, the stupid bint never gave him any peace.

This was all Harry Potter's fault.

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With a sneer, Harry Potter left Hermione Granger behind without a word despite her shrieking and false promises. He hadn't spoken a single utterance to her at all this year. Not even to pass the butter since he never sat with his own year-mates.

The Muggleborn girl was completely frustrated. Didn't he know that she knew what was best for him? That silly, impulsive boy! Hadn't she always pulled him out of the fire? Hadn't she always done his research for him? Harry Potter owed her everything. She huffed and hurried off in an effort to follow him.

"HARRY! WAIT UP, HARRY!" Granger screeched. A group of Slytherin girls watched in disgust at the brunette Gryffindor's uncouth behavior. They huddled together to speak in low tones.

"She has no shame. Good on Potter for leaving her dirty, mudblood self behind," one of the Slyth girls said to the group.

"About time he saw through them," another chimed in.

"The teachers are in quite a tizzy. Have been all year."

"Best entertainment to be had since that fiasco with the Chamber of Secrets."

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"Potter, a word," McGonagall called just as class ended. She threw a look at Ron and Hermione and they left quickly.

"Yes, Professor?" Harry raised his eyebrows in question. "Is it about my classwork?"

"Oh… er, well no…"

"Homework?"

"No…"

"How may I help you then?"

"Your friends, Mr. Potter-"

"Are not your concern, Professor," Harry interrupted coolly, stressing her title and thus her 'relationship' with him as only his teacher. There was no way in hell that this witch was his mother-figure. Nor was she his confidant. "If your concern is not related to my academic performance, then you have no say whatsoever about my personal business. Good day." Harry clicked his heels, sketched a quick bow, and strode out of the classroom with his bag slung over his shoulder.

"TWENTY POINTS FROM GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry negligently waved his hand in the air as he disappeared from view.

Like he gave a shite…

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Severus Snape was a man who hated mysteries. Intrigued by them, yes. But he hated them nonetheless. And what happens? The biggest mystery of all just drops into Hogwarts.

Harry James Potter.

That boy just waltzes back into Hogwarts without anyone ever having a clue. He throws the staff into disarray. He manages time and again to escape all efforts to being cornered. He ignores the constant questioning. His academics are much improved.

Worst of all?

The precocious brat piqued Snape's curiosity.

Detentions were useless. Lines were useless. Nothing worked to make the boy crack. He would just smile, say 'yes sir', and set about doing his assigned task. His mind shields were also impenetrable, which was severely irritating. Snape was going mad from the urge to know what had changed and what had happened to force that change.

How sad that Severus Snape would never know the answers to the mystery of Harry Potter.

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Poor Harry, he was about ready to rip his hair out in anger. These people were driving him batty! Tonight, fuck it all! He had to get that diadem tonight before the term break or else he was going to do Voldemort's job for him and burn down the castle.

A First Year Hufflepuff squeaked in terror as Harry Potter stalked past through the corridors with murder glaring out his Killing-Curse green eyes.

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PART TWO: Such An Angry Young Man

The Room of Requirement. The Come and Go Room. The Wisher's Room.

It had many names, many functions.

The Room would bear witness to one last confrontation between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy.

Tomorrow morning, many students would be leaving for Yule Break. A few would stay behind. But Harry had no intention of staying in the Magical World at all beyond tomorrow morning. He was coming for that Horcrux tonight and then during Yule Voldemort was going to breathe his last. Or at least, that was the plan. Cloud still hadn't destroyed Nagini. Anyway, it was too bad that Draco Malfoy was headed for the same destination this same night.

Supper ended and Harry ducked into an alcove. From there he hurried off to the seventh floor to the spot of wall across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy with his dancing trolls. He needed to think of a place that would be perfect to hide things. He paced back and forth and when the door appeared, he jumped inside, closing the door behind him. He frowned at the towering piles of junk and shelves filled with odds and ends. He went deep into the room, never noticing someone else entering.

Finally Harry saw the strangest thing. It was a bust of an ugly old warlock on a high placed, free floating shelf. On its scalp sat a dusty wig of indeterminate color and upon its brow was a tarnished tiara. It was the tiara that called out with the stench of foul Dark Magic and a sense of was-but-wasn't-Voldemort. Quickly the wizard pulled on a pair of black dragon hide gloves and produced a Magic-Muffler Bag exactly like Cloud's, a gift from the Goddess. He snatched the bust with its wig and cursed tiara and delved even deeper into the room of junk. He spotted a table and swiped it clear. A noisy clatter sounded as the junk fell off. He set his prize down.

Harry set about taking the tiara off.

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Draco Malfoy crept into the room, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw no-one there. He closed the door and the portal finally vanished. Tucked under his arm was a Dark Arts Book from his godfather's personal library. He quickly spotted the broken Vanishing Cabinet and hurried over to it. He studied the cabinet with critical gray eyes. The blond boy took out his wand and opened the book with his free hand. Just as he was about to start casting, a loud clatter of falling objects echoed from further in the room. Draco dropped his book and whirled around with his wand raised in panic. Oh Merlin, that was why the door was already there with the Junk Room…

Someone must be trying to hide something important.

Someone was in here with him.

The blond boy kicked Snape's book closed and left it on the floor for now. Wand in hand, Draco tried to melt into the shadows with the bare minimum of success. He wound himself through the precariously stacked piles of junk. His ears were straining for any sounds other than his own breathing. Soon enough he stumbled upon the edge of a cleared space with a table in the center and a person with unmistakable hair.

Potter.

Now then, the young Malfoy scion was an observant sort. Obnoxious but observant. He had noticed the severe changes within the Boy Wonder. The brunet had become an expert at dodging his so-called friends and the goody-two shoe professors on the staff that had a vested interest in his rival. He had become secretive, not that Draco had room to talk, and cold-eyed. There was a purpose filled aura surrounding the Golden Boy of Hogwarts. Though his golden status seemed a bit tarnished around the edges. And whatever that purpose was, Potter had finally seemed to have found it here in this room, which also held Draco's own project.

"Hello, Malfoy," Potter called.

Draco was startled as his school-yard rival turned around. "Potter," he said, unknowing of what to actually say for once. They stared at one another; intense, bright viridian eyes clashed with eyes the color of mercury and quicksilver. "What are you doing?"

"I found what I was searching for, of course," the other boy said coolly. "And you?"

"My business."

"As is this." Potter gestured at the odd bust of an ugly warlock. There was an even odder smirk on his face.

"A bust of Aldrich the Hideous Weirdo?" Draco raised a sardonic eyebrow.

"Oh, is that who that is?" The Gryffindor shrugged at him, that strange little smirk still spreading his thin lips. "It was actually on his head…"

"That wig wouldn't suit you at all," the blond quipped. His stomach did an odd flip-flop at the crinkles of mirth that gathered at the corners of Potter's almond-shaped eyes. It was maddening that Draco was noticing how nicely shaped those exotic eyes were and he gulped subtly.

Potter stared searchingly at him and then spoke softly. "Surprisingly enough, you'll be the one I'll miss most, Malfoy," he said.

Draco's brow wrinkled in consternation. "What in Merlin's name are you talking about, Scarhead?" he snapped in return.

"Throughout the years you are the only one in my acquaintance that stayed true to yourself and to hell with anyone else." A chuckle burst from Potter's smirking lips. "Maybe… I should have taken your hand that first year."

The Slytherin groped for words to respond to such a peculiar statement. "Have you gone mad?" he finally blurted out.

"I think so, yes. Look at us; we're actually having a civil conversation. Listen, Malfoy; whatever business you have here, I don't care. If you bring down the very stones of this castle on Dumbledore's head, I don't care." Potter shook his head. A fevered light entered his sharp green eyes. "I'm leaving, Malfoy. This so-called war? I'm gonna finish it, so it doesn't matter to me what you're doing in the Room of Requirement."

"And if I try to stop you?" Draco nearly dropped his wand when Potter pointed a strange, silver weapon at him, drawn from the small of his back. A clicking sound came from it as Potter's thumb pressed down on a mechanism.

"I plant a piece of lead into your brain with this, right between your eyes. So, I suggest you listen to your Slytherin survival instincts and step aside."

And Potter was right, his instincts were screaming at him to get out of the way. And so Draco followed his gut feeling and did a side-step to clear the way to the exit. The brunet put away his weapon, tucking in up underneath his robe and oxford shirt. "Potter!" he called just before the other boy disappeared from sight.

Potter stopped but didn't turn around. "Hmm?" he replied wordlessly.

"The Dark Lord wants me to kill Dumbledore."

"Is that right?" Potter turned his head a little to look over his shoulder. "I hope you succeed then, Malfoy. No skin off my back." And he sauntered away.

At the front of the room, Draco heard the door, which had obviously appeared again, slam shut. The sound echoed a little. He realized one thing in the cold silence left in Potter's wake.

That was going to be the last time Draco Malfoy would ever see Harry Potter in person.

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PART THREE: This Jig Is Up

Cloud patiently waited in the shadows of the branches in the trees. The forests behind Riddle Manor were the favored hunting ground of Nagini, despite the cold of the winter. Thankfully there wasn't yet snow on the ground, else this wouldn't work. Most snakes would already be hibernating but she obviously wasn't. That made hunting her a little easier even though it was night. Glowing blue eyes were hooded in an effort to minimize their shine. It wouldn't do to give himself away so easily.

The dry, soft sound of scales moving across dead leaves echoed up into Cloud's ultra-sensitive ears. He stared down at Nagini's moving form. He crouched on the branch that he occupied. The edge of his blade, number four of First Tsurugi, was coated with basilisk venom provided by Harry.

There!

Cloud fell silently from the branches like an avenging angel, blade pointed down. As he landed with boots on either side of the sinuous body of the serpent, the sword separated Nagini's head from her corpse. Her body wriggled in violent death throws, her jaws snapping even in death. A few moments passed and all movement ceased. Cloud's head perked up when he heard Voldemort's howl of agony even through the Manor's wards. A cold smile crossed the blond's lips. With of flick of his hand, a bracer with a Fire material equipped on his wrist, the dead serpent burst into magical flames. Again Cloud employed his Exit Materia to escape just a Death Eaters crashed through the brush in search for Voldemort's now dead Horcrux.

Snow started to fall from the heavens.

Nagini's ashes blew across the forest floor with a winter's breeze.

Merry Christmas, you filthy animal.

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Triumphant and smug, Harry Potter sauntered through Kings' Cross. He was dressed in the black denims covering his slim legs, a dark green t-shirt peeking out from his open leather jacket. A silver scarf was wrapped loosely around his neck. The strap to his carry-on was slung across his torso like a messenger bag, slapping lightly against his thigh as he walked. The boy wizard was perky, bouncy, and even whistling. He had the London Times tucked under his arm. Just a few hours earlier, before dawn, he had snuck into the Chamber of Secrets, fried the diadem with Fiendfyre, and then danced straight out of Hogwarts without anyone the wiser. Through the front door even.

In three days, Muggles would be celebrating Christmas. And he planned on killing Voldemort as a Yule present to himself on that day. But for now, he would relish his freedom in Muggle London and then meet up with Cloud in Hyde Park at the Albert Memorial later in the evening.

This was his first time in London for pleasure, so Harry would play tourist. But where would he go? What would he see? So many possibilities were open despite the winter season.

Perhaps he would go the Sherlock Holmes Museum for giggles and from there he would visit Regent's Park to go boating for a bit if the lake wasn't frozen over…

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Voldemort was having a nervous breakdown.

Seriously.

Nagini was dead, first of all. Why he had put a piece of his soul willingly into a living, mortal creature, one would never know. Well, he was an insane, sociopathic megalomaniac with delusions of grandeur and dreams of world domination. He was also obsessed with a teenage boy like a dirty, perverted pedophile. Plus, the self-proclaimed Dark Lord was pasty-faced, had hands like icky spiders, and smelled like the reptile house at the zoo. Furthermore, Voldemort had no nose, which probably explained the odd way he breathed. He was probably also a virgin. But let's not get into that…

The second reason was related to the fact that Nagini was dead. Voldemort couldn't sense his Horcruxes anymore and he definitely couldn't sense the Potter boy even after his reappearance in the Magical World. He had sent his most trusted out to retrieve his soul pieces only to have his minions fail spectacularly, in which they then paid the price by dying under his wand. His keys to immortality were gone, vanished. Destroyed.

Voldemort thus had good reason for a panic attack.

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Cloud was having a good morning today.

This whole thing with the Dark Lord was nearly over. He got to get rid of several people that had hurt Harry, though unfortunately not the main culprits. But he would be taking care of the Dursleys next. That was why he had asked Harry to send him the invisibility cloak last night. He had received the valuable object along with the news that Ravenclaw's Diadem was a pile of ashes in the Chamber of Secrets. Now the blond immortal had until his meeting up with Harry in the evening to finish up these three loose ends.

The swordsman ducked into the park and hid behind a tree. He twirled the invisibility cloak around to cover himself. Cloud then quickly made his way to number Four of Privet Drive where all three members of the Dursley family were together for breakfast. With a Materia, he cast a silencing bubble over the whole house. Then he placed a ward stone that maintained the bubble and prevented the nosy neighbors from seeing anything. Once that was done, it was safe to take off the cloak for now.

No one had seen him on Privet Drive thanks to that cloak, which meant that there would be no witnesses that needed to be killed. A blood-thirsty grin crossed Cloud's lips. He removed his sword from its harness. His eyes glowed green. Cloud entered the house through the front entrance after kicking down the door.

Screams of pain and terror never reached the ears of the surrounding neighbors.

The dead bodies went unnoticed and unreported until after New Year's Day. And only because of the smell. The Muggle police scratched their heads over that fact that they found no physical evidence that pertained to the perpetrator. The swordsman was a thorough sort of person; that Turk training from Vincent and Reno really paid off. How unfortunate that the case of the Dursley family murder would remain unsolved and locked away in the cold case cabinet.

Their souls burned in perdition.

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PART FOUR: Hangman Is Coming Down From the Gallows

Christmas Day morning was beautiful. Snow covered the imperfections of the outside world. It hid away the ugliness of humanity's touch on nature. The air was crisp and scented with frost and pine. The snow crunched pleasantly beneath booted feet. The world seemed clean and bright.

And if Harry had anything to say about it, the world was going to become a whole lot cleaner and brighter with Voldemort permanently dead.

Harry and Cloud slipped in underneath the wards surrounding Riddle Manor. The blond of the duo quickly took the lead. It was his job to keep the Death Eaters occupied and to kill them as they came out. He was fairly indestructible and invulnerable to the Killing Curse; thanks to the number Hojo had done on him so long ago. So he would go in, sword swinging and Materia blazing, while Harry would sneak in and off Voldemort. Cloud sighed. Goddess, he was getting too old for this crap.

"Ready?" Harry hissed in his ear.

"Yeah."

"Hey, a favor? Or well, several actually."

"Sure, Harry. What is it?"

"Find Pettigrew. Prevent him from escaping. Break his spirit. Destroy his body. Make him wish he had never heard the name Potter."

"You got it, Harry."

000

Severus Snape had a bad feeling today. But he ignored the feeling for the potion brewing on his work table. It was an order from the Dark Lord for some nefarious purpose that he had already reported to Dumbledore. Still, that premonition persisted in the back of his mind for all of this Christmas morning.

And it was in the teachers' lounge after breakfast that the Dark Mark disappeared in the most painful manner possible right off of Snape's arm.

The Potions Master fell to his knees, keening in agony. Teachers scurried about in a panic like head-less chickens. McGonagall was bellowing for Madame Pomfrey while Dumbledore actually knelt down by the convulsing wizard in an effort to hold him down and prevent him from biting through his tongue until Poppy's arrival. Despite Snape being thin, he was strong and his muscles were being augmented by adrenaline; so Dumbledore had a hard time of restraining him even with magic.

Poppy arrived in a flurry of white robes. She brandished her wand and cast a few spells to ease Snape into unconsciousness. Kneeling at the wizard's side, opposite of the Headmaster, she reached down to Snape's left forearm. Strangely enough, the fabric was soaked in dark liquid. The rows of buttons were quickly undone and his flesh revealed.

The Dark Mark was gone, the magic destroyed and the black ink dripping out from Snape's pores.

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During Snape's episode, Draco Malfoy was having his own. He was curled up into a ball of pain on his bed in the Slytherin dorm. The blond boy cradled his left forearm against his stomach. Silent sobs wracked his body as a miniature seizure tore across his muscles. His Dark Mark throbbed like a poisoned wound. It felt like little barbed hooks were being torn out from inside of his arm. And then the pain faded and, with shaking hands, the young wizard pushed up his pajama sleeve and stared.

Black ink dribbled out of his pores where the Mark once stained his skin. Taking a corner of his bed coverings, Draco wiped the ink away. He started to laugh hysterically, fat tears of relief rolling down his face.

Fucking Potter. Finish it indeed.

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Earlier That Morning Back at Riddle Manor

Harry silently closed the study door behind him. His mortal enemy stared at him in shock. It brought a smile to the boy wizard's face.

"Harry Potter, so you have come."

"Don't bother with your minions, Tom." Harry's smile was wide, uncannily so. "I've already had someone take care of them."

"A duel then, Potter? Just you and me? How quaint." Voldemort had his wand aimed for Harry's unblemished forehead. "Perhaps I shall give you a new scar, boy."

"Oh? After what happened the last time you gave me a scar on my forehead? Get some originality, Tom." Without warning, Harry pulled out his gun, a Quicksilver, and unloaded a round of consecrated iron bullets into Voldemort's chest.

The Dark Lord stumbled back. He stared down at his chest in shock. Blood oozed out from the smoking wounds. The snake-faced man coughed, more crimson fluid staining his lips and dripping down his chin. "Wha…" His body jerked as one last bullet was shot into his head. He collapsed into a heap on the expensive but ragged Persian rug.

Harry started whistling as he dug out a canister of rock salt from his little ninja pack at his waist that was enhanced with Wizard Space. He salted Voldemort's corpse like he was going to be Sunday dinner. And then he got out the lighter fluid and bathed his dead enemy in it. The teen flicked out his wand from his wrist holster.

With a smile and a manic giggle, the Boy-Who-Lived set Voldemort aflame.

Harry danced out of the study.

000

Wormtail scrunched himself into a corner. It was no use trying to transform into his rat-self. There was something blocking his ability. Instead he was left staring at a demon with the face of an angel and the glowing green eyes of a monster. Those awful, awful eyes glowed brighter, pupils narrowing into slits. A horrible smile stretched the demon's lips. The traitor wet himself.

"Hello, Peter," the demon purred.

Peter Pettigrew started to weep in earnest.

The demon's impossible looking sword gleamed in the candlelight of the smallest bedroom in the manor. The blood from the other Death Eaters was black, so thick was it on the metal.

It took a long time for Pettigrew to die at the demon's leather encased hands.

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EPILOGUE: Take A Bow

The day of New Year's Eve was ushered in by Harry with enthusiasm. The brunet wizard was having the time of his life in London, waiting for the countdown to begin this evening. Currently he was sitting in a café with Cloud. Streams of people flowed in the streets. Laughter and pops from noisemakers filled the air. People called out to wish someone a happy New Year. Freedom and joy seemed to pulsate out from the younger man's chest.

"Easy there, Harry. You'll vibrate straight out your seat," Cloud said from behind his newspaper. He set it down to pick up his latte.

Trying to cease his bouncing without success, Harry grinned widely. "I'm just so happy!" he proclaimed. A sly smirk replaced the grin on his face. "Will you kiss me at midnight?"

Cloud choked on his coffee.

000

Evening fell across the heavens and midnight crept ever closer.

The streets of London were packed with throngs of shouting, cheerful people; that exact scene emulated in each major city across the globe.

The Goddess, invisible and hidden from all senses, snuck up behind Harry and Cloud as the final countdown began.

Ten

Nine

Eight

"A gift," the Goddess whispered in their ears. They stiffened in surprise.

Seven

Six

Five

Harry's body jolted as Her hands cupped his temples.

Four

Three

The wizard turned toward Cloud, green eyes glowing from Her gift. "A home. Forever with you…" he breathed out.

Two

One

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!" the people around them screamed. Couples kissed as fireworks burst in the air above the city.

Harry and Cloud were locked in an embrace, laughing.

See, everything's alright now.

000

The headlines across the Wizarding papers screamed out with big, thick letters. Dumbledore buried his head in his un-cursed hand in the privacy of his office. His other hand, the one slowly killing him, throbbed in time with his heart. He had failed and his plans lay in ruins at his feet.

Voldemort was dead and his manor burned to the ground.

Though Snape and young Malfoy were free, the other Death Eaters were dead as well, either in their homes or crisped up with Riddle Manor.

And while there should be celebrations, Hogwarts was solemn and the castle herself accusing. The students who had returned, which were few in number, were silent as a grave. The younger students, mainly the First, Second, and Third Years, of Gryffindor Tower were huddled together, always glaring at the Headmaster or at Harry Potter's former friends.

And the reason why Dumbledore knew that he failed? Harry Potter had publicly denounced him and then disappeared all together after telling the Magical World to 'kiss my white, skinny arse'.

Several of those same headlines went as followed:

VOLDEMORT DESTROYED; TESTIMONY FROM HARRY POTTER

HARRY POTTER SPEAKS OUT AGAINST WIZARDING WORLD'S NEGLECT

MANOR OF EVIL GOES UP IN FLAMES: The Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-A-Pyro

VOTE OF NO CONFIDENCE IN FUDGE

INVESTIGATIONS AGAINST HOGWARTS: Overhaul in Staff and Curriculum to be Discussed

DUMBLEDORE'S RETIREMENT DEMANDED: Too Many Lemon Drops?

BOY OR WEAPON? How Dumbledore and The Wizarding World Short-Changed Harry Potter

Albus Too-Many-Middle-Names Dumbledore was so screwed.

000

The Chocobo cooed in delight as her master preened her black feathers. The small, black feathered young was humming as he worked. In return, the giant bird set about trying to tame the little fledgling's own messy feathers.

Harry Potter laughed at her and played along. "Others have tried and failed to tame my curls, girl," he said as she let out a wark. From the rafters of the stable, Hedwig watched in amusement as her fellow avian tried to do what the owl herself couldn't.

"Harry!" Cloud called from outside of the stable, the tropical sun beating down on his golden head. "I've made lunch!"

"Alright!" the brunet shouted back. He smiled up at the Chocobo. "Well, Betty, how about a run after lunch?" At her affirmative wark, the wizard patted her wing and exited the stall. Harry stepped out into the bright, Mideel sunshine. Cloud was waving him over to the cottage from the backdoor. The now immortal wizard smiled brightly.

It was good to be home.

000

END OF THE DELIVERY BOY AND THE BOY SAVIOR

EDIT: Just I just wanted my slash reading people to know that I just posted a Cloud/Harry smut pairing on my LiveJournal. If slash is not your cup of tea, don't bother reading. And I've put up the adult filter. Just go to my profile here and click on my homepage to be directed to my LiveJournal. And thanks everybody for reading this and my other stories! Love ya, bye! XD