Lobsang had saved as many as he could when the Disc collapsed, pulling them into parasite dimensions to be properly relocated to a new, whole dimension later. Of course, the problem wasn't that he couldn't get to people in time. The problem was that he wasn't the only anthropomorphic personification at work that day, and there was only so much room in parasite dimensions before things got too crowded.

Detritus took up a fair bit of space all by himself, and however the little group of Igor's arranged themselves, stacking people just wasn't efficient or easy. Saving Sam Vimes senior had been a good idea though. Very good at getting people to shut up and behave themselves. It helped that Detritus took orders from the man and was still holding onto his siege catapult. Actually, the catapult was taking up space as well and therefore part of the problem, but it helped with keeping everybody calm as their world gave way.

Even the great A'Tuin and the four elephants were destined to die some day, and that is what had caused the collapse.

Lu Tse had refused to be saved, which had saddened Lobsang. The old sweeper had taught him so much, but the man had just smiled in his own little way and said that he'd keep an eye on how things worked out on the Disc after everything was over. Death had told Lobsang later that Lu Tse had died from a fall – the Disc had cracked beneath the man and he'd fallen through, eventually going splat on the shell of the world turtle. He wasn't the only one to refuse to leave the Disc and die because of it though. All of the witches had refused to be moved from their land, and most of the wizards had been too stupid to leave their universities.

Then there were the other kinds of deaths. The ones that had happened after everybody had been relocated to a new dimension.

Carrot had joined the local police force and been shot not long after. Several people had not taken well to the alien world and culture, ending up being taken to asylums and eventually killing themselves. Munstrum Ridcully had been among that number, and after that a few people had decided that the best course of action would be to just stay in the parasite dimensions.

Until the owners of those dimensions had kicked them out anyway. There's only so much even an anthropomorphic personification can put up with after all.

On the other hand, some people had immediately gone and done what they always did, and adapted to the new situation, all with varying degrees of success. Ronnie's dairy business would continue to do business wherever he was, and his cheeses rapidly became very popular – which was good, as there was already an established milk-delivery service, and for those who didn't want their milk delivered they bought it in the supermarkets.

There were only a few of them left when his Susan had brought home that little boy, and most of them who had managed to hang around so long had either always had or somehow acquired some variation of immortality. Detritus, Angua, the Nac Mac Feegles, Quoth, one of the Igors, Maladicta, Rincewind until he'd finally died in his sleep, the Librarian who spent most of his time in L-space anyway, and Albert who wasn't but it didn't matter as long as he stayed in Death's parasite dimension. Not a lot of them left hanging around these days really. It was really a good thing that Susan had brought young Harry home, so that the stories of the Disc would continue to be remembered. Cohen was right about that one thing, if nothing else. Being remembered was important.

It was why, when he and Susan had sent Harry off to that school of his, they'd given him life-books of some of the people from the Disc who weren't still living.


Harry sat in his compartment of the Hogwarts Express, the Luggage just pulling its feet under itself for a nap, and his new friend Neville sitting opposite him.

"What house do you think you'll be put into?" Neville asked.

Harry shrugged. "Dunno," he said. "My parents were both Gryffindors, but that doesn't mean much to me since I never knew them." Harry chuckled. "Maybe I'll be a Slytherin. Miss Susan has been teaching me politicking since she told me I was Lord Potter, and a politician has to be at least a little bit sneaky. Then again, being popular helps too. Not that I want to be a politician," he added with blatant distaste, then shook his head, banishing the thought.

Neville chuckled weakly.

"What house do you want to be in Neville?" Harry asked, returning the question.

"I'd like to be in Gryffindor like my parents," the boy answered. "Not sure I've got it in me to be though," he added with a despondent frown.

"I don't understand what's so great about Gryffindor," Harry said with a sigh. "I think Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff would be much better. Knowledge and hard work rather than bravery or cunning. We don't exactly need the latter so much as the former these days." Harry chuckled. "Lobsang told me that when he met Susan she called him a hero, only it was an insult rather than a compliment."

Neville frowned in confusion. "I don't get it. What's wrong with being a hero?"

"Hero's aren't exactly known for their brains," Harry pointed out delicately. "And if there is one thing Susan cannot abide, it is someone stupid."

Neville sat back in his chair, thinking about what Harry said.

Harry shrugged and turned to his Luggage. "I'd quite like some of my school books to read," he said, reaching over to the lid hopefully. It opened before he touched it and his potion emporium was sitting there, the purple ribbon he'd used as a book mark the last time he'd put it down sticking out the top and bottom. Harry grinned. "Thanks," he said, taking the book and settling back.

"I hear the potions teacher is really mean," Neville said.

"All the more reason to study," Harry countered, opening the book. "If you're good in his class, he can't pick on you."

Neville jumped up and started rifling through his own trunk at that, and came up with his own potions text book. The assigned one, rather than the tome Harry had resting on his lap. The difference didn't go unnoticed.

"I wanted something more comprehensive, that's all," Harry said, brushing off Neville's question. "I like knowing why things react when there is a possibility of it blowing up in my face."

Neville visibly gulped at the reminder of the potential volatility of potions and took to reading his book all the more diligently.

They were undisturbed for the rest of the train ride, for which Harry was most grateful. Having people coming and going all because of the name 'Potter' would have been frustratingly annoying.


After he'd been sorted into Ravenclaw, Harry's first year at Hogwarts was fairly normal. Classwork, homework, standardised school work that he had to send back to Susan and Lobsang, and compensating for the fact that he couldn't really 'flick' something three-and-a-half feet long with a sword running down the middle. He'd have brained somebody. With some help from his Head of House though, he managed to figure it out.

No one much minded when Quoth or the Death of Rats came to visit him, though everybody thought him odd for talking to a bird, and even stranger for talking to something else that they couldn't see.


[insert classes here]


It was Halloween, the anniversary of the death of his birth parents. Harry wasn't all that big on celebrating the holiday with that looming large in his past. Maybe some day, if he ever had kids of his own, maybe. Not just now. All the Discians he'd met – and he'd met all the ones that were still living and in the UK – knew that he didn't celebrate the occasion, and why.

Which made the Halloween celebration at the castle, the masses of decoration and the practically palpable anticipation in regards to a whispered feast, all the more frustrating for him. He knew why they were all so big on partying now too. For the exact same reason he didn't want to celebrate: it was the night that made him famous. The night Voldemort had been defeated; the night his parents had died.


His head snapped around. He knew that voice. For the first time all week, a smile lit up the Ravenclaw boy's face.

"Detritus!" He yelled back, running through the Entrance Hall to the great troll who was standing there, framed by the open door.

The Scottish climate was good for the troll, he didn't need his cooling helmet here like he had in Ankh-Morpork except in the very height of summer, and even then he was usually a good way up a mountain so he never had to worry about it being too warm for his brain to work properly. In deep winter here, Detritus was a veritable genius, and it lasted a good long while. Knowing this was why Harry frowned at the 'grading system' that Hogwarts used.

But he supposed that trolls here were different to Detritus. Still, he didn't like the implication and slur on his large, rocky friend.

"Detritus what are you doing here?" he asked, wrapping his arms around the troll's middle – which was as high as he could reach – before he stepped back to that he could look up into Detritus' face.

"Well I live only many mountains over, an' Susan tol' me you was schoolin' here. I wasn't gonna let you be on yer own at dis time o' year," the troll said, picking the boy up carefully.

That was when the screaming started. And the running. And the teachers charging towards them against the tide of panicking students.

"What's deir problem?" Detritus asked quietly.

Harry shrugged, unknowing himself. After all, trolls in this world were, while very destructive, fairly spell resistant, and stupid enough to chase something just because it ran, they were also generally blue or green skinned and considerably more fleshy than Detritus. Really, if the Detritus stood next to a troll from this world, anyone would see how much more likely to go squish the native was. Then again... Detritus was effectively living rock and after having been in the Ankh-Morpork City Watch for so long, his imposing scowl had become rather fixed, so for those who didn't know him, Detritus was probably scary.

Then the first spell hit. It was a pretty red colour, and caused a bit of moss on Detritus left elbow to wither shrivel away.

"Oi!" Detritus objected loudly. "What was dat for? It took me a week to grow dat bit of moss!"

The professors halted in their advance, and though the wands were almost all still held at the ready, no other spells were cast. Flitwick ended up being the first one to step forward.

"Would you please release the boy?" he requested.

Detritus frowned. "You not a dwarf," he observed. "You da right amount of not-tall, but dwarves all got beards."

Flitwick coughed at the rather blunt statement. "I am part goblin," he said. "Will you please put the boy down?"

"Goblin?" Detritus asked, doubtful.

"Yes Detritus," Harry said, sighing and rolling his eyes. "Goblins are different here than they were back in Ankh-Morpork."

"You are familiar with this..." Snape sneered as he tried to find an appropriate word, "individual, Potter?"

Harry nodded happily. "Professors, this is my friend Detritus. Detritus, these people are all teachers here," Harry said, performing extremely abbreviated introductions.

Detritus nodded to them all. "Pleased to meet you," he said, then turned his attention back to Harry. "I gets the feelin' I make 'em nervous," the troll said. "Maybe next time those Pictsies should visit you, rather dan me."

Harry laughed and shook his head. "Maybe," he allowed, amused by the idea. The castle might not be able to handle being invaded by Nac Mac Feegles, but it would certainly be interesting. "Do you know who's hosting the Hogswatch Party this year?" Harry meant Christmas of course, but Detritus, even with his brain working better in the cooler climate, still understood what you were talking about better if you used Discian references, even if he had been on Earth for a couple of centuries now.

"Er... Mal's, I fink?" Detritus answered, asking at the same time and naming the only black-ribbon vampire left. Only Disc vampire at all really. Maladicta, or Mal for short. She had a great big long name, but she never used it except to sign stuff, where she always had to go over the page to get it all on there.

Harry nodded. "That's what I thought too," he agreed with a smile. "I'll see you then, alright?"
Detritus nodded and lowered the boy back to the slightly slushy, slightly snowy, stone-covered ground. "I'll see you at da party den. Take care of yerself Harry."

"I will Detritus. You take care of yourself as well," Harry answered, looking up at him.

Detritus nodded and turned around to leave, waving over his shoulder.

"Mr Potter?" Professor Flitwick asked quietly, having approached the boy quickly and now had a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Harry nodded. "Yes sir," he answered. "Just a bit homesick, and I wish I didn't have to face the Halloween feast," he added as explanation.

Flitwick frowned as he thought on that, until understanding dawned. "Ah," he said. "Well, I believe that if you were to take yourself down to the kitchens, the house elves would be happy to give you something to eat in your room. Provided of course that you didn't take your trunk with you."

Harry snorted in amusement. The Luggage had apparently decided that it liked the taste of House Elves and went out into the castle once a week, hunting them, since Harry had forbidden it from eating the poor little creatures when they were cleaning his quarters.

"Yes sir, thank you sir."


It began when the new DADA teacher unleashed a cage of Cornish pixies in the class, only to promptly retreat and leave it to Harry and Neville to clean up.

"Ach Crivens!"

Harry's eyes bugged to hear the cry.

"Nac Mac Feegle Wae Hae!"

"Wae Hae yerself!"

"Frae Kelda 'n' Clan!"

"Tak' tha' yeh wee wingied Nancy!"
And there they were, the Nac Mac Feegles, the Pictsies, attacking the Cornish pixies.

"Harry?" Neville asked nervously. "What's going on?"

Harry smiled at the Hufflepuff weakly. "I'll explain once all the Cornish pixies are dealt with, yeah?" It didn't take long, and then Harry was introducing Neville to the Nac Mac Feegles who had lived in Lancre, but now apparently lived in some caves on the other side of Hogsmede.

"We did nae visit yeh last year on accoont o' Kelda sayin' yeh did nae need moore visits after tha' big yin troll," explained the Big Man of the clan, a Feegle by the name of Wullie Jock.

Harry smiled. "I thank ye then," he answered, doing his best to apply the same mannerisms as the Feegles. "An' I introdoose yeh tae ma friend, Neville. Neville, these are the Nac Mac Feegles, an' finer warriors ye'll ne'er see."

All of the blue little men blushed a slightly darker blue at the praise, a couple of them digging their toes into the stone floor.

Neville tried not to notice the maimed bodies of the Cornish pixies, separated from their wings, all piled up on the professor's desk. "Pleased to meet you," he said, presenting a slightly shaky smile.

Harry chuckled and bent down to whisper in Wullie Jock's ear. When he straightened again, the Big Man of the clan was giving Neville a serious eye-balling.

"Agrreed," the Feegle said. "This boyo looks like a good toughnin' be needed."

"Harry?" Neville asked tremulously.

Harry smiled. "Wullie Jock has agreed to teach you how to fight like a Feegle. They might even take you to see the Kelda about a few bits of old magic." Well, Disc magic, and a very special drink at that, but 'old magic' was really the easiest label to give it for Neville's sake.


"Hearing voices coming from the walls," Quoth commented, coming to land on Harry's shoulder as the boy left the Great Hall. "You do know that's not a good thing, right boy?"

Harry laughed. "Hey Quoth," he answered, stroking the raven's chest feathers. "I think I figured it out though," he said. "When Malfoy summoned that snake I understood what it was hissing, so I'm guessing that what I'm hearing is some kind of snake that's probably using the plumbing in the walls to get around."
"A sound deduction," Quoth observed. "Susan would approve of your use of logic."

Harry chuckled. "She wouldn't approve of my idiocy when I decide to track the thing down," he countered. "It's begging to be allowed to kill. Think Death of Rats would care to join me in a little snake hunt?"

Quoth eye-balled the twelve-year-old. "Rat hunting a snake?"

"You're right. I'll ask the Nac Mac Feegles for a hand instead, if it will make everybody feel better," Harry offered.

Quoth laughed. "I can't wait to tell Susan about this."

"She'll scold me for being a hero," Harry said, pulling a face.


Harry walked casually down the hallway. It was his free afternoon period, and he'd seen the bloody writing, still fresh, dripping, and ever-so-slightly warm, on the wall as he'd headed down to the Great Hall for the midday meal. Now, he was being trailed by the Luggage and giving a ride to the Big Man, Wullie Jock, while the rest of the Lancre Feegles rode on the Luggage's lid. It wasn't exactly a normal sight, even for Hogwarts, but the Pictsies had been seen around the castle already this year, and while it was uncommon for the Luggage to trail him around the corridors, it wasn't unheard of, so no one paid Harry all that much attention, however odd the small procession was.

Calmly, the boy walked into the girls' bathroom.

"What are you doing in here boy?" demanded a slightly disembodied voice.

"You must be Myrtle," Harry greeted politely. "I came to ask you about your death, if you don't mind."

The ghost's face lit up in a bright smile as she told him all about it, and led him over to a sink.

With a smirk, Harry found the little snake and hissed at the stall to open, then turned to Wullie Jock.

"Nac Mac Feegles: CHARGE!" the Big Man declared, jumping from Harry's shoulder down the hole.

Myrtle chuckled with Harry to watch the wave of tartan-clad, red-haired, little blue men cascading over the edge and down into the gloom.

"If I want to get out again, and I do," Harry said, turning to the Luggage, "I'll probably need a rope to climb up. I'm not as nimble as you or the Feegles."

The Luggage opened its lid, revealing a large spool of rope, one end already tied in a loop so that Harry just had to find something to pull it tight over.

Harry grinned. "You're the best," he told the Luggage.


Harry shook his head in amusement as he watched the Pictsies charge upon his opening of the second door. He'd warned them about the basilisk's eyes and the powers that they held of course, but still they charged. Well, it didn't matter. The monster was nowhere to be seen.

The red-haired firstie on the other hand, she was lying there and looking to be in a very bad way.

Harry turned to the Luggage.

"I need something I can kill a basilisk with, and then I want you to keep her safe, alright?"

The lid opened, revealing a place for Harry to set his wand/staff/walking-stick, as well as the butt-end of a weapon that was hanging in the impossible depths of the Luggage. When Harry drew it out, he recognised it from one of Rincewind's stories, and raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"There are more things in heaven and earth and the depths of the Luggage, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy?" Harry suggested with a crooked smile at the Luggage, which seemed to smile bashfully back up at its master. "Thank you. Now, somewhere safe to keep the distressing damsel?"

The lid didn't close and open again, but the holders shifted and Harry smiled before lifting the girl from the floor and gently dropping her in. Harry then turned to the horde of little blue men.

"Remember not to look it in the eyes and avoid the venomous fangs when we find it, alright?" he reminded them all.



Harry grinned as he swung the scythe – yeah, he was really pleased to find that in the Luggage, and there was no way he was telling Death that he had one of his old scythes – and was finally able to finish removing the head of the snake from its body completely.

The Feegles had lit into the giant serpent, just as they always lit into any opponent, but Harry suspected that, even if the Feegles packed a lot of wallop for their size, that they didn't bother the great green beast much more than fleas bothered a dog. Still, they'd distracted it, which was enough for Harry to get in the five swings it had taken to remove the head, and then the Feegles had all helped nail small tarpaulins over the beasts eyes, just in case being dead didn't render it harmless. They'd all done a good job of not looking at those horrible, glinting yellow orbs through the whole operation really.

Harry was wondering if he should try and harvest the basilisk now or come back for it later when he noticed the Death of Rats had squeaked indignantly at the previously unnoticed diary and was now chewing at it ferociously.

"Oi!" Harry scolded, batting the shrouded skeleton away from the book. "What are you eating?"


"Oh," Harry said, blinking. "That's alright then," he allowed, handing the book back. "You might want to show the Master though." Death was Susan's grandfather, but Harry, adopted as he was, called the anthropomorphic personification 'the Master' or 'Sir', rather than 'Great-Grandfather'. It was easier.

Death of Rats nodded and scurried off.

"What noo?" asked Wullie Jock, his clan all lined up on the corpse of the basilisk.

Harry sighed. "Now we all get out of here, unless you'd rather stay?" He'd come back for the beast some other time. There was probably a family frantic with worry over the red-haired girl.

"Oot we goo!" Wullie Jock declared.


Angua was waiting at the castle doors to escort Harry to Hogsmeade. It was the arrangement that Susan had made with Flitwick regarding Harry's safety. She didn't trust the ministry, and certainly not the dementors they'd posted, so Angua had rented a place in the wizarding village and chaperoned Harry while he was out of the castle.

"He tried to break into the Gryffindor tower last night," Harry told the werewolf as soon as he saw her.

Angua's entire expression sharpened. "Show me where?" she asked.

Harry nodded, grabbed her hand and led her through the corridors to where the whole school now knew the entrance painting was located.

"They replaced a painting because it got ripped up, and of course a whole lot of people have been in and out since then, but..." Harry trailed off, Angua was already inspecting the area carefully.

Anybody else would think she was inspecting the dust motes she was so close to the wall, and so focused was her gaze, but she was really filtering through all of the scents that were lingering.

"These people's magic makes my nose itch," Angua complained quietly, then turned and headed back down the hallway. She led the way out of the building and towards a tree.

"Duck!" Harry yelled, noticing that the whomping willow was winding up to strike them for being too close.

Angua didn't just duck, she dived, her hand slamming down on the same bole near the roots that had the scent of the escaped convict on it.

The tree stilled.

"He went down there," she said, pointing to the hole that was tucked in between a gap in the roots.

"I get the feeling I'll be staying in the castle while Sergeant Angua goes after the criminal, right?" Harry asked.

Angua nodded. "I'll be conducting something of an interrogation when I find him as well," she added. "Susan mentioned that he hadn't actually received a trial, and I'm not confident in the corrupt government of this world. Vertinari was a bastard, but at least he was fairly incorruptible."

Harry nodded his understanding, and headed back up to the castle.

Two hours after Angua had left Harry on the school grounds, the boy was sitting in the Headmaster's office with Sirius Black, Professor Lupin, Professor McGonagall, Amelia Bones of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, five other Aurors, Susan, and Peter Pettigrew.


Harry blinked. What he was seeing couldn't be possible. Okay, obviously it could be because he was seeing it. He just really wished that it either wasn't possible or wasn't happening, especially here, where he could see it.

Angua and Professor Lupin were attached to each other at the mouth, and as far as he could tell were chewing on each other's tongues. Okay, he was thirteen, he was passed the point where he thought girls had cooties, but it was still not something he wanted to walk in on! And how hadn't Angua smelled him coming and taken her new boyfriend off to somewhere he wouldn't have to see them?
Harry abruptly turned around and walked away, halting students who had been behind him and advising them strongly that they didn't want to go that way.


Peter Pettigrew was faced with the most terrifying thing he had never imagined. He was dead, he had to be dead, after getting the Kiss like that and there was no way that a cloaked, bony figure with a scythe meant anything else. Somehow though, he'd expected it to be bigger.

"SQUEAK," said the small reaper firmly as it swung its scythe.


Harry cheered when Cedric's name came out of the Tri-Wizard Cup. Hufflepuff was getting some recognition at last, and as far as the young Ravenclaw was concerned, they deserved it. It might make his pal Neville feel better about his sorting too. He hoped so. Since Neville had been introduced to the Feegles, Neville had really been getting better about standing up for himself, but some things needed a different sort of outside influence.

Harry frowned then as the cup flashed up another flame, and Harry suddenly understood what Susan was always complaining about – Remembering the future. Dragons, mermaids, a maze and a graveyard. This was not his idea of how to spend a school year. Why, oh why did Dumbledore have to open his mouth and say -

"Harry Potter."

- in that stunned way that said he'd no idea how the name had gotten into the cup.

Harry groaned and thumped his head on the table.

"I will shove my wand up the rectum of whoever put my name in that cup," he declared, not raising his head. "And when it is lodged in their throat I will cast the bone-vanishing spell, then swish-and-flick them off again. Do I have to take part in this?"


Apart from the Tri-Wizard Tournament bungle, his fourth year wasn't all bad. He'd been on hand when Professor Moody had turned Malfoy into a ferret for trying to hex a fellow student. Even better, his luggage had been on hand, and had eaten up the small furry thing as it was coming down from the second bounce. Nothing anybody said was going to make Harry ask the Luggage to cough the git up either. You did not ask the Luggage to regurgitate its meals unless you wanted to lose yours.


Harry blinked slowly as the two dementors practically slithered their way up the street towards him, leaving frost on the pavement behind them. In the middle of summer. Well, someone was being bloody obvious about making an attempt on him, weren't they? He wondered if it was because of Riddle. Harry had damn near managed to kill him, but the ruddy sheep who followed him, for all that they weren't too bright, at least knew how to throw a curse. He'd had to retreat, and then there had been the issue with the politicians.

"Oh do bugger off," he ordered them absently, making a shooing motion with his hand. "You do know what Susan will do if she spots you, right? You have heard of her I take it?"

The dementors paused in their approach, appeared to look at each other, and then beat a hasty retreat out of the area.

"Harry?" Susan called from the door.

Harry had just been at the garden gate when the dementors showed up. Susan must have seen him from the kitchen window and come out when he wasn't as fast coming in as she'd expected.

"Just this world's version of the Auditors," Harry answered, absently. "They scarpered when I mentioned you."

Susan smiled smugly. "I'll bet they did. Now come along. Lobsang wants to go over your homework with you before dinner."

Harry smiled. He loved his family.


Harry made up his mind, rather quickly, to ignore the Umbridge woman. He would sit, silently, in her class and read, just as she had instructed. There was no point in arguing with her. She was the type who could be slapped in the face with an elephant and she'd still say it was a mouse if a mouse was what it was convenient for her to believe that it was.

So Harry maintained silence in her presence and advised all those around him to do likewise. He also got into the habit of leading study groups in the Ravenclaw common room. After all, he was a prefect, so looking after the first years was part of his duties now. If older students also sat in on the practical study sessions, then so much the better for them. Really, the Ravenclaws knew better than anybody that, excellent as book-learning was, there were some things that needed to be practised.

When the first Ravenclaw student to get a detention with the woman came back to the common room, clutching their hand to their chest and just barely holding back pained tears, Harry swooped into action. They were a second year student and he was a prefect and they were being tortured by a member of the faculty! It was not to be tolerated. Certainly Susan wouldn't have let it pass.

Thankfully, Professor Flitwick didn't either, and a formal complaint was made to the school board and then with the Ministry itself. They were going to have to take responsibility for putting someone who would so quickly abuse their power and the children they had been given care of.

"Good one Harry," Quoth said with approval from the boy's shoulder. "She's a right bad egg she is. Death of Rats will be waiting for her."

"Susan as well I expect, if not Master himself," Harry added. "Shame she can't be greeted by a Death of Toads really. Rats does a great job of course, but I just feel like she's a little too slimy to fall under his jurisdiction."

Quoth shrugged. "Don't know," he said. "But it's an unfortunately long way off anyway. She may dry out a little by then."
"Or maybe I can ask Moody to turn her into a toad and the Luggage can take care of her the way it did Malfoy," Harry suggested with a smirk.


Fifth year at Hogwarts brought the Ordinary Wizarding Level tests, or OWLs as they were commonly referred to. This was enough for Harry to get out of Hogwarts. Everything beyond was superfluous learning that he could get elsewhere, and really, it was a good age for him to get back into the regular, muggle educational system.

So that's just what he did, and like his parents Susan and Lobsang, Harry went to university where he spent a few years learning how to teach. That Voldemort and his followers dropped by to bother them wasn't much of an issue. After all, when your opponent's greatest fear is death, and you live with Death, various members of His family, and are on excellent terms with a few beings who can deliver the event in creative and painful ways, you're not really going to worry about it, are you?

Harry Potter, after the 'war' had been finished on his street in an almost stupidly simple manner, became the favourite Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher to ever have a tenure of fifty years at Hogwarts without any painful side-effects.

The Discians are a little smug about that actually. So is he sometimes.

~The End~