Before this could degenerate into an attempt by Fudge to save his job, Arthur quickly put in, "Voldemort, before Harry destroyed him, admitted that one of his Deatheaters framed Harry for killing Neville Longbottom."
"You said Potter destroyed You-Know-Who." Rhiat from the International Wizard Standard asked. "How did he reduce him to a pile of ash? I thought being in Azkaban prevented you from doing any magic."
"I have no idea why Harry was able to work magic and I have no idea what spell he used." Arthur told them. "I can only tell you the effects of it. I saw the dark green fire as it came out of his eyes and mouth. It engulfed the Dark Lord and reduced him to a pile of ash in seconds."
The reporters stared at the pile of ash with shock and a little fear. Their curiosity quickly over came their fear and they began firing questions more rapidly.
...
Wizengamot Chambers
"Albus, there should be no problem, enacting the statutes you need," Amelia Bones told him, "but are you sure this is the right way to handle this? From what little you've told me, Mr. Potter is currently a very angry young man and with good cause. Won't this just make him angrier?"
"I am aware of his anger, Amelia, and that is the reason, I want these edicts passed." Dumbledore told her. "Yes, Harry, in all likelihood will be angry, at first, but I am certain that he can be made to see reason. I made a mistake once of allowing a young wizard's anger to fester and grow, instead of trying to defuse it. My neglect allowed a promising young Wizard named Tom Riddle, to become Voldemort."
There was the expected flinch from the other members of the Wizengamot, and Dumbledore sighed. He would've thought that knowing the Dark Lord was finally and irrevocably dead would have given them the courage to say his name, but apparently the fear was too ingrained.
"The other reason, we need to passed these edicts, is because, whether he knows it or not, Mr. Potter, needs the Wizarding world as much as we need him." Dumbledore said in conclusion. "We just need time to convince him of that."
...
Leaky Cauldron 12:01am July 17,1997
A very thin man with shaggy dark hair and ragged, shabby robes appeared in front of the Leaky Cauldron. If someone had been there to see his arrival, they would have shaken their heads, wondering if their eyes were playing tricks on them. Because where there had been a shabby, unkempt man, under the streetlight, was now standing a golden-haired man in neat robes.
The bell over the door that led into muggle London rang as the door struck it.
Tom looked up surprised. He hadn't expected anyone to be using that entrance this late at night.
The tall, well-built wizard walked up to the bar and asked in a low, husky voice. "Can I get a room for a few days?"
"Of course," Tom pulled a key off a hook and handed it to him. "And your name, sir?"
"Edmund Cristo," the man said as he headed for the stairs.
Tom noticed the man had no luggage, but before he could say anything, the man had disappeared.
You Just Can't Resist Meddling, Can You?
Leaky Cauldron, 8am, July 17, 1997
Harry stood under the shower, scrubbing til he was almost raw. He wanted to clean the stench and filth of Azkaban from his body. It's a pity, he reflected, that it can't be cleaned as easily out of my mind.
Once his shower was finished Harry transfigured the worn and tattered clothes, he'd been wearing in Azkaban, to a pair of faded jeans and a non-descript t-shirt. Once his business at Gringotts was concluded, he intended to disappear into the non-magical world forever. He wasn't going to call it muggle any more, partly because he didn't want to attract attention by using that word and partly because it was a wizarding word. If he was lucky he would be able to finish his business with Gringotts today, but given his usual luck, he wasn't counting on it.
As soon as he was dressed, Harry recast the glamour he'd been wearing when he's come into the Leaky Cauldron last night. The face looking back at him from the mirror was a solemn one with grey eyes and it was surrounded by shoulder length, golden-brown hair. Best of all, at least in Harry's opinion, that damn scar couldn't bee seen.
When he reached the bottom of the stairs that led into the taproom of the Leaky Cauldron, Harry found the place was almost overflowing with people who were laughing and drinking.
News of Voldemort's death must have reached them. Harry thought dryly as he did his best to avoid the grasps of several people who seemed intent in trying to drag him into their group and shove a drink in his hand.
Fighting his way through the crowd of people, Harry wound up near the bar, and wanting to get his suspicions confirmed, he shouted over the noise. "What's going on?"
"Haven't you heard?" Tom asked not looking up.
"No," Harry told him. "I've been in my room since I arrived last night."
Tom looked up to see which guest it was. "Oh, sorry, Mr. Cristo. They announced it last night. You-Know-Who is dead! "
"Who finally killed the bastard?" Harry inquired.
"Harry Potter!"
"You mean the boy who killed Neville Longbottom after he joined the Dark Lord, killed his master?" Harry sounded openly sceptical. "I thought he was in Azkaban. How could he kill the Dark Lord from there?"
"He was framed by a Deatheater," Tom told him, then handed over a copy of the Daily Prophet. "Here, read it for yourself."
The headline read: You-Know-Who Dead. FINALLY!!!!! Harry Potter Revealed To Be Innocent Of Murder!
Harry just skimmed the article, wanting to make sure that Fudge had kept his side of the bargain. He noticed that Percy's name hadn't been mentioned. Instead the traitorous Weasley had been listed as simply the Deatheater responsible for framing Harry.