The newly released Harry Potter stood in the doorway of the Great Hall looking all around at the tables, the children, the teachers, but he never focused in one certain thing for very long. It appeared he hadn’t even noticed when his former friend Hermione Granger had stood up from the Head Table and run towards him.

After coming to a rest a few feet in front of him, she let out a timid, “Harry?”

No response came from the ragged and broken looking man standing in front of her. He was off in his own little world, still looking at all sorts of things, but never staying on one item too long.

She tried again with a firmer, “Harry!”

As the man turned his gaze upon her, Hermione felt a sudden chill come over her. His eyes were cold, almost lifeless, and she about gave up trying to gain his attention, when his line of vision came across her form and he suddenly concentrated in on her.

He cracked a smile and spoke up, “How’s it going, love?” His voice was hoarse, and sounded like it hadn’t been in use for years.

“C’mere and give your ol’ mate a hug!” And with saying that Harry extended his arms expecting a warm embrace.

Hermione hesitated. Something was wrong with Harry. She didn’t know how badly his brain had been warped in his stay at Azkaban, but decided it was probably for the best if she went ahead and gave in to his request, lest she upset him.

She tried to stay wary, but as she wrapped her arms around his wiry frame, she felt something bubble to the surface. Something she couldn’t hold back any longer. “Oh, Harry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for what happened to you. I’m sorry for the part I played and sending you to Azkaban. We were so certain. So certain that it was for the best. Dumbledore told us it was only for a little while. That nothing would come of it. That you would be fine for the most part. Oh, God, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me for sending you to that place. Please, please.”

Harry stood still throughout the guilt ridden confession, arms wrapped around her body. As she continued to sob into his chest he softly spoke into her ear.

“Shh.shhh.shh. C’mon now. No need to cry. Harry’s here now. All is right in the world.” He had started up his unfocused gazing again, but kept murmuring soft words to her.

Hermione calmed herself and pulled back slightly. “It’s been so crazy without you Harry. We’ve all been so stressed and worried, now that Voldemort has returned to power. We’re running out of ideas on how to fight him. It all seems just so”

Harry cut her off, cupping her face, “No worries, love! It’ll all be over soon. You don’t have to worry your pretty little head anymore.”

And she believed him, with his hand on her face all she could feel was the overwhelming feeling of security.

Harry slid his hands down to her neck, his eyes now focused on what lay in his hands. He spoke low and slowly, “Such a pretty neck.”

Hermione started to flush, but her embarrassment slowly changed to confusion, and from confusion to panic as Harry’s soft hands tightened in a vice like grip. She started to struggle, but was stunned as Harry suddenly intensified his grip. A little gasp from her, and she soon heard a muffled crunch.

It felt like an eternity, but it only took her a few seconds to form a coherent thought after that sound. “Oh my God, he just broke my trachea.” Pulling her wand from her robes turned out fruitless as Harry merely snatched it from her hand. As if he was simply taking a toy from a small child.

“We can’t have that, now, can we? You wouldn’t want to spoil our fun, would you, love?” And with that Harry replaced his hands on her neck, and began again his ministrations. “I could stop now, and you’d probably suffocate, if someone didn’t intervene. Which someone likely would. We definitely don’t want people joining in on the fun. Their turns come later.”

Harry grinned, “Do you know why people aren’t coming to your rescue?” He asked Hermione, whose face was turning a deep scarlet hue, and whose eyes were starting to redden. “This seems to be a common occurrence in large groups. People always think it’ll be someone else to help. That somebody other than them will help get the bad man away from the helpless girl. And while they’re all stopped in shock and cowardice, they allow the murder to go unperturbed.”

Hermione struggled to get away from him, but he held her firmly, ignoring her feeble attempts to break free. Her arms slowed as her body started to shut down from the lack of oxygen. Her vision became hazy, and her desperate struggles crawled to a halt. The last thing she saw in her life was a newly released Harry Potter gently telling her, “It’s okay, Hermione, you don’t have to worry anymore. I’m here to take care of the bad man. Just rest your eyes a little bit. That’s right, time to sleep. Close those pretty eyes and hold tight to Harry love, I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

Hermione’s body fell out of Harry’s hands to the ground with a dull thud. With that sound, all hell broke loose in the Great Hall. Screams of fright from most of the general populace, and shouts of outrage from a few brave members erupted from the Great Hall.

Harry just stood there looking into the ceiling, which had turned into a dark cloudy sky with lightning streaking across every few minutes.

Harry’s attention was eventually returned to this world as Albus Dumbledore strode toward Harry calling out to the man.

“It seems bringing you back from Azkaban was a mistake, Harry. I’m sorry, Harry, I have failed you again. I never meant for this to happen to you.” With that said Dumbledore steeled himself “I cannot allow you to be among the people of this world. You’re far too unstable as you’ve proven with Miss Granger. Before we go I have a few questions, Harry, and then we can take you back. What did you hope to accomplish with that demonstration? Did you think you could exact revenge on all of us? Or were you just trying to dole out as much punishment to the one you could get your hands on?

Harry stood grinning. His eyes locked on Dumbledore. He spoke casually, as if he were talking about dinner plans, “Revenge, Albus? No, I’m not out for revenge. For as it says in Romans 12:19 ‘Do not take revenge, my friends, for it is written: “It is mine to avenge; I will repay,” so sayeth the Lord.”

At that Dumbledore took on a bewildered expression.

“A muggleborn guard just couldn’t give up religion, and gave me a bible so that I could try and ‘redeem my damned soul’.” Harry answered the unasked question.

“But if not revenge, then what Harry?” Dumbledore asked.

It was Harry’s turn to look confused, “Did I not answer the question? Oh, silly me. My head is in the clouds today it seems. Ah yes, back to the questions. As I stated before that wasn’t for revenge.” He cocked his head to the side, grinned, and continued, “No, no, no, my old friend. That was for fun!”

The answer left Dumbledore stunned. But he quickly composed himself, and got ready to detain Harry by any means necessary. He thought sadly to himself that he just might have take Harry out of the mortal coil, if it came down to it. The fallout from this night would have people clamoring for Harry’s head, and he would most likely have to give it to them.

With a few motions of his wand Dumbledore muttered, “Andoucaine” and a light blue spell sped towards Harry. Harry chuckled merrily and turned to his left and sprinted to the Hufflepuff table. Not even bothered with the explosion that left the Great Hall’s doors hanging awkwardly, Harry quickly jumped over the table and came upon a small girl, whom he promptly scooped up and held to his chest. Never noticing the horrified gasps and the crowd draw back from them, Harry looked down at the little girl in his arms.

“Hello, little lady!” Harry said to the petrified girl, “My name’s Harry, what’s yours?” He paused, but not a sound came from the girl. “Ah, first year.” Harry nodded sagely and started back into his conversation, “No matter sweetie, Uncle Harry will take right, good care of you! So, do you want to have a little fun?” Still no response came from the girl. A slight frown took over Harry’s face, and he slowly asked his new acquaintance, “Don’t you know it’s rude to just stare at a person and not reply to their questions? Impolite people don’t get to play games, and get punished. You don’t want to be rude, now do you?”

A pale Dumbledore broke Harry out of his conversation with the catatonic girl with a shouted, “Harry, please. For Merlin’s sake, put the girl down.”

The crazed smile returned to Harry’s face as he looked up at Dumbledore. “Albus, you sly son of a bitch! You almost pulled a fast one on me. I didn’t know you played muggle games. You mispronounced the word though. It’s pronounced ‘Hadouken.’ Dudley never let me play, but I still remember how to say it. It’s not right that you get to play it and not know how to speak the name of the spell you use. Oh bother. I’m arguing over something inane, aren’t I? No matter, I’ve got something special for you.”

Harry set the first year on the ground, and placed a hand on her shoulder. Opening his mouth and reaching into it with his free hand, he began tugging and straining with something. With a squelching pop Harry pulled his hand down and spat some blood from his mouth. Looking down at the girl again he formed her hands into a cup and placed a rotten molar in her palm. “Don’t drop this, sweetie.” He murmured.

Pulling out Hermione’s wand from his robes, he started murmuring under his breath and jabbed at the tooth. A flash of red encompassed the molar, and it glowed for a second and then returned to its original color. He took the tooth from the girl’s hands and returned his attention to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore had taken advantage of Harry’s lapse in concentration to edge closer to Harry and the girl. Now standing about eight meters from them he considered his options. Above all he had to save the girl. Who could tell what Harry would do to the poor thing? He was weighing the pros and cons on ways to take Harry out without causing the child harm, when Harry stood back up and grinned at him.

“All right. Ready for the fun to begin?” And with that Harry tossed the tooth at Dumbledore. As soon as it left his hand it started to glow, increasing in brightness the longer it was in the air.

Dumbledore reacted with a simple rock wall shield, and thought nothing of the glowing object. "How much damage could this man, who hadn’t even had fifth year studies, do?" Dumbledore thought.

A deafening explosion shook the ground, and cloud of debris overwhelmed him as he stumbled forward a few steps. Coughing slightly, Dumbledore righted himself quickly and surveyed the area. Through the dust he could see a slight shadow crouched down to the left of where Harry originally was standing. Immediately deeming the figure to be too large to be the child, he sent a blasting curse speeding off at it. The sound of human flesh bursting and splattering to the ground aggrieved Dumbledore. For all his meddling, he truly thought it would have worked out for Harry.

He had only meant for the boy to stay a year at most. He did not expect the public outcry for Harry’s blood to be so intense, but at the time it seemed best to let the public have their way. And so Harry got a twenty-five year sentence to Azkaban with the option of parole after five. The press had been stirred up again by his release, but it was easily quenched. After all, he was Albus Dumbledore, slayer of Grindelwald. He knew how to eliminate Dark Lords, and if he said releasing Harry Potter would help win the war against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, then so be it.

He felt slightly remorseful over the end of Harry Potter, but it was for the greater good. If one man had to die to protect the public, then it had to be. With a heavy sigh, Dumbledore cleared the air, and walked towards what was left of the corpse. He identified the robe as Harry’s, but something was off. And then it all came together for Dumbledore. ‘Oh God. The head was Hermione’s!’

Spinning around he was met by Harry’s knee being thrown into his crotch. A breathless gasp was all Dumbledore could manage as he sank to his knees. His mind hazy and his vision unfocused, but he shook it off. He looked up in time to see Harry cock his head back and then violently pull it forward into the bridge of Dumbledore’s nose.

Harry chuckled as he brushed off the blood on his forehead. “Albus, you are one hardcore mother fucker. I thought you liked Hermione? That wasn’t a very nice thing to do to her. Oh, well. We’ve got a lot to catch up on; do you mind if I do most of the talking?” He got an agonized groan in response. He barked a laugh, “Ha, right you are, Albus. It has been a long time since we last chatted. I see Hogwarts is fascinating as usual. Have you done something with the color scheme? It seems less castley than it did before. Damn, I’m rambling aren’t I?”

Dumbledore only heard a buzzing that seemed to drone on and on. Then it stopped and his vision cleared a little. Gaining some of his mental capacity back, and was able to slur out, “Harry, stop and think about what you’re doing. Please. Revenge won’t fill the hole you have. It won’t make up for the years you lost. Stop this all and we can talk about your recovery. You’re not well.”

Harry grabbed hold of Dumbledore’s wrists as the old man tried to curse him in desperation. Twisting outward Harry sighed in resignation, “You’re right, Albus. I’m not well. And I’ve been trying to hold this back for a while, but you just talked me into letting it out.” Drawing in a breath Harry started in again with newfound fervor, “You selfish fuck, how could you? All these years, really Albus? You knew how I was raised. How I had nothing in life. And you couldn’t see it in your heart to challenge me to one single god damn game? I mean you clearly don’t care for the game if you can’t pronounce the most epic of all moves. Why not let me have a go? And I’m going to tell you this one last time, so you’ll remember it for as long as you live. It’s ‘Hadouken,’ you senile twit.”

Harry slide his hand over Dumbledore’s and lightly touched the wand with a finger. Dumbledore had followed the action and now watched as Harry moved his hand around. “It’s not some silly wand waving with a swish here, a flick there, and a jab at the end,” The wand point now resting beneath Dumbledore’s chin.

“Harry,” Dumbledore started.

“And you definitely don’t ever say ‘Andocaine’.” Harry finished with a maniacal smile.

The following pop was the loudest and most horrifying sound the students and teachers would ever hear. No one moved as the head of the former Headmaster went flying into the face of the Potions Master and the body pumped blood ten meters onto the floor of the Hall. No one moved when Snape fell over after Dumbledore’s head hurtled into his face with a sickening crunch. No one, but Harry.

Harry had watched the head travel with an ecstatic feeling of glee. He tittered as the blood spewed from the convulsing body. But he turned deadly serious, when the head hit Snape. Harry jumped over the body and ran to Snape.

“Oh, c’mon Snape. You couldn’t move or duck or something? Please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead. Fuck me sideways, I hope you’re not dead.” Harry said worriedly. “Shit, shit, shit. What was the fucking spell. Uh, oh right. ‘Ennervate’.”

Snape groaned as he regained consciousness. His nose was sore, and when he opened his eyes he was looking into the worried face of one Harry Potter.

Trying to push himself away from the man, Snape was scared shitless of the man that had just slaughtered Voldemort’s equal. But Harry was having none of it. A firm hand was placed on Snape’s shoulder and held him in position. Snape winced and looked back at the face of Harry Potter. What he saw left him absolutely perplexed. He saw genuine concern in Harry’s eyes.

“Jesus, I thought Albus killed you there for a while. What a rotten bastard eh? First he blows Hermione up, and then knocks you unconscious. Right ungentlemanly he is. No matter now, how’s the noggin? Not too bad I hope. Your nose is broken, but it can be healed easily. Glad you’re not dead though.” Harry laughed out, and gave the nose a little tweak for good measure. His face took on a somber expression; he looked Snape in the eyes and uttered, “I was so worried about you, Severus. Almost gave me a heart attack, you did. Look, I know things weren’t great between us before, but I want a fresh start. And since it’s a fresh start I need to get something out before we go on. I love you. Ever since I saw you, I knew. We were destined to be together.”

Snape recoiled in horror. “What. What the hell is wrong with you? You can’t. You couldn’t possible be serious.” He stuttered.

And then to his immense relief Harry’s face split into a grin as he said, “Of course not, you silly fucktard.” And with that said Harry grabbed Snape’s head in both hands and slammed it against the ground. Harry picked Snape’s head back up and shook it a few times this way and that. He pulled it in front of his face and asked, “Oh mighty eight-ball, what are my chances of getting laid tonight?” At that the heavily concussed Snape let out a moan.

“Damn, too bad. Well life goes on.” And with that Harry once again slammed Snape’s head into the solid stone floor. This time the skull didn’t fair so well, and brain fluids and matter ran out onto the stones. With his magic eight-ball now demolished, Harry wiped his hands on the robes of the deceased professor and then stood up. He was turning around when the thought stuck him and he burst out laughing, unable to control the flow of hilarity that crossed his mind. He was able to settle down a little eventually, but still chuckling when he looked back down at the body and said, “Sorry, I guess life doesn’t go on sometimes.”

And with that, he turned around and stalked off towards a table. As he was about to reach the Ravenclaw table, he was pushed forward by a something attached to himself. He looked down to see a pair of feminine arms encircled around his body.

Puzzled Harry queried, “What or whom has attached itself to my person?”

He felt the something slide around to face him and then he came face to face with Ginny Weasley. “Ah Ginny, what can I do for you? Would you care to join me? I was just about to settle down at that table and tuck in.”

“Oh there’s something you could do for me alright. Care to give me something special? Something quite, delicious?” Ginny purred seductively as she stroked his chest.

“Right then, I guess my magic eight-ball was wrong. Go right on ahead, love.” Harry replied.

As Ginny sank to her knees, she couldn’t help but think how great her plan was going. It was logical that he would kill her, for her part in his sentencing. She had stood in court and falsely accused Harry of practicing dark spells and having his way with her down in the Chamber of Secrets. She knew he was out for revenge. Even if he had denied wanting revenge. She knew. And from past experiences she knew men could forget their anger fairly easily if they had proper motivation. If she proved her worth now to Harry, she would be spared. The only downside was she would be the sex slave to a madman, but she felt she could cope. He was powerful, and still held traces of the good looks he had once had. A little tender loving care and she could bring back his handsome qualities. It might not be so bad.

As she was unbuttoning his pant Harry spoke to her, “Ginny?”

She looked up at him and ran her tongue across her top lip. “Yes lover?”

“Goodbye.” Harry said sharply.

A confused look was all she had time for before Harry grabbed a hold of her head and twisted. The sickening snap that carried across the Great Hall hardly affected the stunned crowd of students and teachers. Not only had they seen him kill a professor, and a personal friend, he had also killed their beloved Headmaster and protector. They were too stunned to process that a killer was still loose among them.

“Whore,” Harry spat out disgusted as he let the body of Ginerva Weasley fall to the floor. Stepping over her he took a seat at the table. Picking up his silverware he turned to the students next to him and asked with a smile, “All right? Who’s ready for breakfast?”

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Harry sat outside a small café enjoying a light lunch. He cheerfully watched the magical people scurry around, glancing worriedly behind themselves every now and then, as they moved about Diagon Alley.

The magical community had been cast into a terrified spiral when Harry had been freed three weeks past. After hearing about the deaths and the loss of their greatest wizard, the people of magical Britain erupted in widespread panic. Sightings and stories of Harry Potter coming into houses and shops killing indiscriminately became everyday articles in the Daily Prophet. The public was certain that Harry had joined the Dark Lord as his right hand man. They would never have expected that Harry had contented himself to simply living amongst them.

Harry let out a small snort as he sipped his cup of tea. He watched the Aurors march up and down Knockturn Alley, searching the side alleys and frequently stopping the citizens. Almost no extra guards had been added to the main alley, to which Harry was highly was amused each and every day he visited.

Hiding amongst the populace wasn’t a problem. A hat, slight hair growth on his face, plain clothes, and most didn’t bother themselves to glance at him. Even if they had taken a closer look, few would have been able to recognize him as the Boy-Who-Lived.

Somewhere along the line in the five years of having the joy torn from him, Harry had broken. The guards on duty had filed that moans and wailing had started mid afternoon and emanated from his cell throughout the night. The cries ended abruptly the next morning, and they noted when they checked on Harry; he had been gazing at his hands in awe and wonderment. He never answered their calls or questions, but he would react the same way when they came into his cell. He would eventually look at them, and when he had turned his attention upon them his eyes would rove their bodies, taking in every detail, all the while with a smile upon his face. The guards and staff eventually gave up on trying to reach him, content with declaring him another prisoner that had gone insane.

Three weeks out of Azkaban had already improved his appearance. He was slightly fuller in body, and the dark circles under his eyes had receded a little. Gone was the passionate boy that held the world on his shoulder. In his place stood the ever cheery man that couldn’t have a care in the world.

Harry placed his cup on the table and continued to watch the people of Diagon Alley. He placed his hand idly on the book sitting on the table in front of him. Running his fingers over the spine of it he focused his interest on the woman pulling her son along in a hurry.

A small hand entered his line of vision and he reached out and gripped it softly. “Sorry love, not quite done with the tea.”

The waitress let out a squeak and reddened. “Oh my. Sorry sir. You had been sitting here for quite some time I had figured you had already finished. I’m so sorry to disturb you.”

“Nothing to worry about. It’s a welcome distraction, especially since it’s from someone so lovely.” Harry replied as his eyes traveled from the hand in his up her arm to her face. “You wouldn’t have time to sit and chat, would you?”

The waitress blushed and giggled out, “I can make time, I guess.”

Getting up to pull a chair out for her, Harry asked, “Lovely time of the year, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know.” The girl sighed out. “There are a lot of terrible things going on lately. Haven’t you heard about all the awful things Harry Potter is doing now that he’s escaped? All the trouble he’s caused. It makes it hard for a squib like me to feel safe around here.” At that the waitress let out a small shiver.

Harry let out a laugh startling the girl. “Don’t worry I’ll keep you safe. You can count on me, love, but for right now let’s not worry over those things. Too many people live their lives worrying about danger and the like. Sends them to an early grave, it does. Let’s just sit back and enjoy the sunshine and weather.”

The girl again started to apologize, but Harry cut her off. “Don’t worry about it. I know it’s hard to think happy thought in perilous times like these.” Harry grinned again and asked, “So do you get to meet interesting people like me everyday waiting here?”

The waitress giggled again and replied, “Every once in awhile, but you’re definitely the most interesting so far. I haven’t worked here for very long, but it’s a good job. I get free food, and it pays the rent. Have you been in town very long? It looks as if you’ve been traveling for a fair while.”

“I have been traveling. Tiresome business trip. Had to deal with old colleagues. It was quite fun, but I couldn’t stay long. I had other business to take care of. I’ve just now had the past few days off.” Harry said before taking a sip from his tea.

They traded banter for a few minutes. The girl had leaned forward and talked animatedly, while Harry sat back and responded happy to let the girl talk his ear off. Something in the crowd caught Harry’s eye and he cut into the conversation. “Sorry love. It seems a business associate of mine has just walked by. I’m terribly sorry, but I need to talk to him. No rest for the weary right?”

Harry stood up and the waitress rose with him. He took her hand and brushed his lips over it and said, “I hope we can do this again one day.”

He didn’t wait for her reply as he set off into the crowds of people. Working his way down the alley he looked for the person that caught his attention. Finally he spotted the man exiting a small shop.

The man strolled leisurely down the alley. His head held high and his cane in hand. He was pure aristocracy at its finest.

Harry’s face split into a grin from ear to ear before he ducked his head down, and made his way towards Lucius Malfoy.

Lucius was having a good day. He had served his master well the night before. Being among the Death Eaters entrusted in corrupting the Ministry and bringing in a fair amount of new recruits had thoroughly pleased his master. The Lords praises moved him in ways no woman’s touch could ever hope to. He was devoted solely to his master, and one day would be entrusted with governing the people of this community. He smirked and sniffed at the peasants surrounding him. Yes, one day he would have rule over them. Like a Malfoy should.

He was shaken out of his thoughts as a shoulder knocked him off balance. Lucius scowled and started in on the one who had run themselves into him, “Watch where you’re going you ignorant buffoon.”

“My apologies, sir. I’ll be more careful next time.” Harry smiled and tipped his hat at the man, showing his scar, before turning around and heading off into the mass of people.

Lucius couldn’t believe it. Harry Potter was walking the streets in plain view. He quickly recovered and set off after Harry. Spotting Harry duck into an alley, Lucius drew his wand. Casting a quick notice me not charm at the entrance to the alley he continued to walk down the alley. His wand at ready he continued down the winding path. He passed a few table shops and passed out homeless beggars. He sneered at them with a quick thought over how to get rid of their filth when he had the power to.

The path ended in a small empty cul-de-sac with a few apartment doors. Lucius scowled and cursed. Capturing the Potter brat would have sealed his status among the other Death Eaters. He cast a few proximity spells, checking to see if anyone had entered the apartments. After the spells returned negative, he relaxed and lowered his wand, only to bring it up again at the sound of something rustling around in the trash. Lucius crept forward with a curse at the tip of his tongue, when a mangy looking dog trotted out of the rubbish.

The dog cocked its head at Lucius and let out a happy bark, and started towards him. Already annoyed at losing Harry, Lucius snarled and let loose a cruciatus curse at the dog. Letting out some frustration would calm him down for the meeting he was already late for.

A little smirk crossed his face as the curse hit the dog. He didn’t have time to react as the dog exploded sending blood and bone all over the cul-de-sac. Lucius was sent flying backwards as pieces of bone embedded themselves in his flesh. He fell on his back in the entrance of the alley, and bounced his head off the ground.

Dazed and disoriented all Lucius could do was look upwards to the sky. His vision began to clear, and the ringing in his ears started to subside. At the top of a building he could see a black shadow reach the edge and look down at him. Not having full control of his mental processes, all Lucius could do was lay there and stare up at the figure and let his vision clear.

As his mind and line of sight cleared he finally took in the features of the shadowy form of the person above him. Harry Potter was grinning down at him. At realizing this Lucius’ eyes widened and he started to raise his hand to curse the man above him. Even if he hadn’t dropped his wand mid flight, it wouldn’t have mattered.

At the sight of Lucius’ recognition Harry had pulled himself over the ledge, right over Lucius Malfoy’s person. Harry let out a little whoop as he fell towards the ground.

Lucius had just raised his arm as Harry’s legs impacted on his chest, crushing his diaphragm. Straightening himself Harry stepped off the body of the elder Malfoy, and brushed himself off.

Looking down at the crushed body Harry began talking to the dying man. “Well, that was fun wasn’t it? Nearly a seven meter jump, that was. I’m tempted to do it again. But then again, I don’t have all day for fun and games. It was fun while it lasted, right Lucius? Hey! Hey! Don’t you go anywhere. I’m not done talking to you.” Harry let out a sigh and started again as the man finally died, “That wasn’t very good manners. You’re supposed to pay attention to someone when they’re talking to you. Damn it man! I thought all purebloods had class and the like. I’m standing here trying to have a conversation with you, and you just go off and leave. Without saying good bye, even! Higher standard, my ass. The bastard even killed my dog! I loved that damned mutt."

Harry walked over and picked up the dropped wand and gave it a few swishes. Nothing unusual happened and Harry sighed. Taking the wand in both hands Harry snapped the wand and tossed it aside. Giving Lucius a last once over, Harry paused and his eyes lit up.

“Thanks for the suggestion Lucius. I’ve been meaning to visit Gringotts recently.” Harry laughed out. And with a few motions Harry pocketed part of the Malfoy property. Once again through with the alley he set off towards the main street and Gringotts.

With a grin plastered on his face Harry walked up to the goblin teller at the counter.

“I’d like to visit the Malfoy vault please.” Harry told the goblin.

With a nasty smile the goblin directed him towards the carts. A long ride down rail and finally Harry managed to reach to vault of the esteemed Malfoys. Getting out the cart the goblin directed him towards the vault door. The goblin smirked and asked, “Mr. Potter, you do know that once you reach a vault you have to enter it, don’t you?”

After receiving an answer in the positive from Harry, the goblin continued, “Do you have the key?” Again a simple yes was the answer. “Alright, please hand me the key, and press the family ring against the stone on the wall.”

The goblin now grinned viciously as Harry dig around in his pockets. Harry tossed the goblin the key and began to dig around again.

‘Even if he has the ring of the Malfoys, he won’t be able to wear it, and then we can claim the reward from the Ministry for his capture.’ The goblin thought.

His smirk turned to shock as Harry pulled out Lucius’ hand and said, “Right then which stone?”

The goblin quickly gathered himself and pointed to the rock sticking out of the wall next to the vault door.

Harry walked up to the rock and pressed the ring against it. He turned to the goblin and smiled. “Well, are you ready?”

The goblin was too shocked to answer. He just walked up to the vault door and opened it. ‘It’s not supposed to be possible. There are spells and wards in place on this vault to stop this from happening.”

Harry on the other hand just stepped back and grinned. His eyes traveling over all the treasure in the vault as he spoke to the goblin, “We have a lot of work to do today, and not a lot of time. Best to get busy. Oh and before I forget, Gringotts transfers vaults to other countries right?”

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The leisurely pace Harry traveled contrasted heavily against the bustling flow of the magical people filling the alley. Barely registering the amount his person had been bumped and jostled by unapologetic store goers as they frantically hustled to their destinations, Harry merely observed the buildings and stores on the street.

The sudden increase and fervor of the jostling brought Harry’s attention to the street and the crowd gathering at the far end of the square. Eyes suddenly alight in recognition; Harry’s features broke out into a wide smile.

“Harry Hunting.” Harry stated under his breath as he worked his way towards the front of the ever expanding crowd. The levels of outrage and panic seemed to rise with each person he worked his way in front of. When Harry reached the front of the mob it was a full on screaming match between the Ministry and the fear induced masses.

This was the third public service announcement Harry had attended. So far the topics of conversation had ranged from what to do when attacked by Death Eaters to recognizing the infamous Harry Potter.

Harry quite enjoyed the weekly announcements. He’d taken to shouting alongside the civilians at the Ministry official. His cheery attitude was contradictory to the arguments he’d yell out. His favorites were inciting the people with possibilities that Harry Potter was out killing little children while the parents were away and defiling their corpses in the most lascivious of ways.

Upon reaching the front the masses around Harry were fully embroiled in their usual state of panic and rage. Grin etched onto his face, Harry began his provocations.

“You bloody useless lumps! Why hasn’t the murderer been brought to justice? How can we sleep at night, while that madman is doing god knows what to decent people like ourselves. You should be ashamed of your incompetence, you worthless sacks of shit!” Harry shouted out.

His words only fueled the crowd on sending it to a near riotous point. The man leading the assembly seethed over the fruitless effort to regain control of the crowd, and turned to scowl at the man that insulted the Ministry and set the people off. Suddenly the scowl fell from the man’s face, as his features took on a look of confusion as if he were trying to remember something.

With a grin and a wink Harry stepped backwards, fading into the crowd.

Recognition came over the man, and he muttered under his breath, “Harry Potter?” Coming to his senses he managed to yell out, “He’s here! Harry Potter is here! Quick, on me. We’ll get the bastard today!”

Standard procedure in these circumstances mandated that a subtle alert to the surrounding Aurors be made before alerting the public. But subtlety and proper procedure had never been strong points for Ronald Weasley. Having been accepted by a hemorrhaging Auror Department reluctantly, he had been immediately tasked with informing the general populace with how to protect themselves and what to do when someone had spotted Dark activity. But the main reason Ron was accepted, was because of his “profound knowledge on all things concerning Harry Potter”.

Jumping down from the stage Ron set off into the now horrified crowd. Plowing through the frightened wizards and witches running amok, Ron tried to regain sight of Harry. Yelling at the top of his lungs, “Come back you bloody coward. I’ll kill you for what you did to my Hermione. Did you hear me? I’ll fucking kill you!” Ron continued to dash into the crowd.

A sudden blow to the back of the head knocked Ron to the ground. Seeing black and still dazed Ron rolled over with a groan, and saw Harry Potter standing over him swinging what appeared to be an elongated Gringotts money sack.

“Night, night!” Harry said with a chuckle and swung the improvised flail at Ron’s head.

"Galhados” a voice shouted behind Harry.

Turning around just in time to receive a bludgeoner full on in the chest, Harry was hurled through a store window.

Eyes roving the unfamiliar place as he lay on his back, Harry let out a grunt of pain. Standing up and giving a shake to clear his head, Harry brushed himself off. A few pieces of the glass pane had cut him, but his cloak had taken the brunt of the damage. Lightly touching his ribs, he hissed slightly. Again nothing too bad, maybe one or two ribs were broken. Readying himself, Harry pulled his wand out and whispered, “Perium.” Everything not nailed down in the store, was sent hurtling out the window he had crashed through mere seconds before. Sprinting out behind the debris, Harry took notice of the man shielding himself twenty meters ahead.

Taking the opportunity to reach and pull a fleeing wizard to shield himself, as the Auror weathered the banished store goods and rubble.

“It’s been awhile, Alastor. Good to see you in good health. Been up to anything interesting these past few years? Still living in a trunk, or have you moved up to tents?” Harry called out.

Side stepping a rather nasty piercing curse Harry tutted at Moody. “Now, now, Alastor. First rule of hostage situations is to make sure you don’t put the captee in danger. That piercing curse you just used could have hit him, or it could have angered me enough to use a severing curse. You wouldn’t want that to happen, now would you?” Harry questioned. At the mention of a severing curse the captive man whimpered as Harry stuck his wand into the man’s neck.

“Let the man go, Potter. And I just might make your death quick, you miserable little twat.” Moody growled out.

Pausing, Harry cocked his head to the side, considering the offer. With a sudden nod Harry replied, “Good argument. You win sir. Good on you.”

And with that he gave the man a little push forward.

“One last thing, before my death at your wand, Alastor. ‘Imperio’” Harry said lazily.

Rolling forward Moody dodged the curse and snapped off a string of curses that would rend and sunder a body to gruesome proportions.

And the spells did just what they were intended to do. Unfortunately for the released man, a simple Mobilicorpus had moved him into the pathway of the curses.

With a sigh Harry called out, “You seriously don’t remember anything in your hostage Auror training do you. Must be senility. I thought the onset happened later in the magical world than the muggle one, but I guess I was wrong.” Changing into a chipper demeanor Harry continued, “On a different note. Don’t look behind you.”

As Moody’s false eye whirled to look behind him, Harry raised his wand and shouted, “Solairioum”. At the same instant an Auror copied the movements and words.

At the blinding flash from the spells, Moody could only curse himself for not making sure the Imperious curse hadn’t hit anyone behind him, as he fell to the ground. Making himself as small as possible, he tried to drown out the screams of the panicked people unlucky enough to be unable to escape already while casting a quick shield.

When his sight finally came back to him, Moody found himself surrounded by a multitude of people. Aurors and citizens all facing him.

All he could manage was a simple, “Fuck” before he was set upon by the group. As he tried his best to fend off the Imperioused gathering around him he could hear Harry tell him to remember to only use non lethal means on the helpless civilians like a good Auror should.

Like a cornered animal, something in Moody snapped. Casting every known curse and jinx in his repertoire to save himself from the certain death that would come from the people attacking him was all for naught. As his shields took a few powerful curses, one slipped through and he felt his fake leg give way and he fell backwards.

Lying next to bloodied and mutilated corpses that he himself had made, Moody tried to fight off the reaching hands of the crowd. Losing his wand after a brutal amount of kicks to the head, Moody felt himself being lifted off the ground. Hands pulled his head to look up as the crowds parted and Harry stood at the edge. He just stood there staring at Moody a damned smile upon his face with mirth in his eyes.

Unable to take the silence any longer Moody shouted out at Harry, “I don’t care how long it will take me. I don’t care at what lengths I have to go, but you will pay for the lives you destroyed today. Fuck you, Potter!” And with that Moody spat at Harry’s feet.

Not taking his eyes off of Moody Harry replied, “What are you talking about? Look at the bodies around you. That is your work. Not mine. It was magnificent to watch you. A total and complete annihilating force is what you are. You are a true master of the art. Congratulations on time well spent. I can only hope to be able have such a knowledge of spells one day.”

His reply started Moody’s struggling again as he cursed him. Harry only smiled and took the words with a chuckle.

“What was that, Alastor? You’ve never been part of an all male gangbang? No holes barred you say? Well I’m sure the gentlemen in the crowd have no objections against it. Wait. What was that? A skullfuck? Is that even possible? No matter. Your wish is my command. You heard the man, guys. If the man wants a skullfuck then it’s a skullfuck he gets. Oh and through the good eye, I suppose. Have fun, Alastor.” With that said Harry turned away and began walking towards the entrance to the Alley.

The screams from the remaining people in the Alley were drowned out by Moody’s until it abruptly stopped after a minute. Whistling as he continued towards the exit, Harry paused at the sight of a man trying to crawl away. Turning and heading to the now conscious Ron, Harry grabbed a hold of Ron’s collar. Dragging him to the edge of the street, Harry placed his head on the curb. Grabbing a wrist in each hand, and pulled Ron’s upper half off the ground. Placing a leg in between the arms and on Ron’s neck Harry continued his whistling. Upon reaching the end of his made up little ditty, Harry slammed his foot down with all his body weight. A loud crunch and Ron Weasley’s head was turned at an impossible angle.

Releasing his hold on the wrists, Harry wiped his hands on his cloak and began walking again, only to stop before the floo exits. In front of him stood a tall black man with aristocratic features.

“On behalf of the wizards and witches of Britain, I, Blaise Zabini, will duel you to the death. Your time in this mortal world will end with me as the savior of the wizarding world. I will not fall from underestimating your skill. I will best you in combat, and prove the Zabini’s loyalty to the people of Britain you pathetic excuse for a wizard.” Said the man.

“You like the sound of your pompous voice don’t you? Wait. Zabini? I thought Zabini was the Hufflepuff girl with great big tits and a nice face.” Harry questioned.

Reddening at the slight, Blaise began to retort when Harry interrupted him.

“Alright, well best to get on with the duel and all that, lest you break out another elegant speech about our lady England’s great magical honor and whatnot. Just let me set up the dueling area.” Harry said as he cast a few spells to make a glowing line behind him and one in front of Blaise. “Now, step into the dueling area my good sir, and we shall get this over with.”

As soon as he stepped over the line Blaise found himself lifted off the ground. With a spike of granite extruding from his chest, all Blaise could do was look at Harry in shock as his body spasmed for a few seconds before dying.

“Fuck yeah! I won my first duel! Who wants to go celebrate? Anyone? C’mon, seriously? No takers? Fine. More liquor and women for me.” Harry asked the horrified crowds. Grumbling under his breath, “Cruddy dueler that one was. You’d think all that money could buy intelligence or something. Dense as a brick, bloody wanker.” Still in a foul mood Harry walked up to the exit and before he touched the door he apparated with a loud crack.

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Harry’s head lay upon the table. Bottles were strewn around his arms that encircled his head. Letting out a small grunt, Harry raised his head off the table. Bleary eyed he took in the patrons of the pub he now sat in.

Only hours earlier, Harry had strolled into the pub ordering drinks for everyone. In an instant people were clapping him on the back in thanks, including him in on drunken conversations and songs. No one was the wiser that their newest friend had left a trail of destruction in Diagon Alley only minutes earlier.

Hours passed in high spirits as the drinks flowed freely, thanks all into the generosity of everyone’s favorite patron. Harry enjoyed travelling from group to group partaking of Ogden’s finest and reveling in the stories of past triumphs and Quidditch team songs.

Eventually the night had settled down and Harry had found himself sitting at the table shaking off the magical alcohols streaming through his veins. A lilting sound drifted though the haze of his mind, and Harry focused in on the object emitting the melodious tune that had brought him out of his stupor.

Against the far wall sat a young woman with messy blonde hair past her shoulders. Her sharp angular features were of the kind most purebloods would kill for. Bone structure of natural aristocracy. Her porcelain skin was slightly blemished by a light scattering of freckles on her cheeks and nose. The soft song voice came from a pair of pale pink lips, but what had captured Harry were her eyes. The round orbs seemed larger than normal and her dazed cool grey eyes locked onto Harry’s own.

A shiver leapt down Harry’s spine as Luna continued singing in the rough Gaelic tongue, the feel of magic heavy in the air as she sang and strummed the lyre lying on her breast.

Harry rose to his feet and made his way towards Luna as she finished. He held out a hand silently, still captured in the staring match between Luna and himself. Taking the proffered hand, Luna rose and was led upstairs to a dimly lit room.

Returning to the gaze they had broken as they walked to the room, Luna was the first to break the silence.

“The woodland fae told me you would come for me. They told me to wait, and you would come to me. The fae called you a gift bringer. Now that you have answered their call, what is the gift you bring me?” Luna questioned in faraway tone.

As if searching for her soul and finding her worthy, Harry relaxed and in a raspy voice answered, “Peace. I bring you peace.”

Luna laid her head on Harry's chest, encircling her arms around his back. She gently sighed a began to talk again. “The world hurts. It hurts so often these days. It feels so unbearable. Peace can bear the burden for a little while. But peace can’t hold it forever. Soon your gift will not be enough, and you will have to give more until the world has quenched its thirst once more. But peace is the kindest gift someone could ever bestow upon me. I thank you, Harry Potter.” Luna whispered in her soft sing song voice. Her eyes softening as she stroked Harry’s face gently.

Bringing her mouth to his in a soft gentle, yet passionate kiss, Harry molded Luna’s body against his. As if they’re bodies were meant for the other they connected and their magic hummed against each other skin.

Breaking away slowly, Harry put his mouth against Luna’s ear and whispered softly, “This world turns and twists the purity and unblemished until it is a former shadow of itself. Hateful and perverse. Sometimes.” Harry paused. “Sometimes you just have to destroy something beautiful to protect it.”

Turning her eyes to his, Luna let out a simple, “I understand.”

“Peace go with you.” Harry whispered and gave Luna a light kiss. “Avada Kedavra”

Catching her fallen body in his arms, Harry carried her to the bed. Gently laying her down, and looking at her one last time. Even in death her nontraditional beauty remained. Her half lidded eyes still carrying the constantly surprised look her friends had known her for. Turning around Harry left the room and closed the door quietly, as if he did not want to interrupt Luna’s sleep.

As Harry descended the stairs with a displeased frown upon his features, he caught some of the conversation of some late night patrons.

“Like I told you earlier. It’s a pretty sweet deal. I take a few pictures of the places Potter has been and get some dirt, and then report to this bird in the city. The work is well worth the pay. Thank the stars Potter showed up again, else I’d be right out on the street!” A man at the bar chuckled.

A grin slowly made its way across Harry’s face.

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The knocking at the door brought her out of her work centered concentration. Cursing and throwing an acidic green quill to the table littered with unfinished articles and crumpled sheets.

Scowling at the door, Rita muttered to herself as she walked to open the door, “It’s about damn time he got here. I’ve been up half the night trying to get an article written for tomorrow, and this son of a bitch comes over late! He better not expect more than twenty percent of the original deal.”

Opening the door, but not bothering to look at her informant as she quickly turned back to her work; all the while berating the man for his incompetence and for making her spend the night rushing to get her column finished. “Get in here and tell me why you’re five hours late you stupid man.” Rita snarled.

“You’ll have to excuse me. I got held up in an altercation of the utmost importance, and found I couldn’t leave the argument unfinished.” The man replied. His voice was coarse and gravelly.

Rita paused. Slowly turning around to identify the unknown man she had unwittingly let into her flat.

Emerald eyes met hers, and she recoiled in horror, stumbling backwards until she fell against the far wall.

In her doorframe stood Harry Potter, grinning from ear to ear like a child that knew a secret, yet refused to tell it.

“How are you Rita? It’s been too long. Four or five years, right? Or did you really visit me during my stay?” Harry asked as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

“W-where’s Terry?” Rita managed out.

“Terry? Who’s” Harry began confused, and then recognition crossed his face. “Oh, that Terry! Well you see, Terry lost his head at the pub last night, and I was generous enough to help him find it. Poor guy was so knackered that I thought I’d do him a favor and pass on his information on the escaped criminal Harry Potter.”

“You literally mean it, don’t you?” Rita whimpered out, trying to push herself farther back into the wall.

Chuckling Harry shook his head. “Nope. Sorry, he didn’t literally lose his head.”

Dumbstruck Rita could only stare at Harry in confusion, until he began to speak again.

“No, I simply bashed his skull in. Less mess that way, you know?"

Staring at Rita, Harry frowned at the lack of response. Shrugging and again smiling at Rita, Harry spoke. “Guess not. Anyways, the reason I came here tonight was to deliver a message. From me to the wizards and witches of England.”

Regaining some self control at the hint of news from the mouth of Voldemort’s right hand man, Rita adopted her usual manner, as best as she could with a man who had caused destruction wherever he walked, when interviewing a celebrity. Her voice silky and light she asked, “Well, what does the great Harry Potter have to say to the plain folk of England?”

As if she had cast a wandless recording charm, her green quill sprang to attention.

Harry’s eyes darted to the quivering feather. Cocking his head in wonderment, Harry made his way to the table containing Rita’s nightly work. Plucking the quill from the air, Harry studied it, turning it over and over in his hands.

“Word activation spell, nifty idea.” Taking the quill in both hands he applied a hard pressure, his knuckles turning white. Getting no reaction from the tool, Harry spoke again, “Unbreakable also. Must come with hazards of the job. Fascinating object, really. I hope you don’t mind me borrowing it. I was planning on writing out my own message.”

Amusement over the discovery still on his face, Harry advanced towards the back wall.

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Walking through the open door, Kingsley Shacklebolt took in the loft. Immaculate decorations greeted him, but he paid no mind to the fine features and paintings as he made his way to the living room.

On the wall hung the body of the former gossip queen Rita Skeeter, her hair in a disarray and her neck covered in scarlet. Her mouth was open in a scream and her eyes wide.

Her death hadn’t been pretty or painless, Kingsley noted. His eyes traveled to the body’s right to read a note left on the wall.

"What’s it say?” Questioned his partner, Nymphadora Tonks. Her face was pale and had a sheen of sweat, as if she had been sick over the gruesome murder.

“She very well might have,” thought Kingsley, “Merlin knows I want to.”

“It’s Latin. It translates as, ‘The sun will set on Rome.” Kingsley spoke in his deep baritone voice. “We don’t have time to waste, Tonks. Let’s get her body down. Summon whatever is holding her up while I levitate the body to the ground.”

At Tonks’ Accio, Rita’s neck gave a tug, and with a squeltching noise released a long blood covered quill. Out of habit Tonks’ hand snatched the incoming object out of the air. Upon the feel and sight of the blood slick acid green quill, Tonks promptly lost her stomachs contents. Dropping the quill and putting the hand that hadn’t touched the object on the wall to steady herself, Tonks gulped in air. Shakily regaining her composure, Tonks wiped at her forehead to get rid of some of the sweat. Looking at Kingsley she gave a quick, “I’m okay, now.”

Anxious confusion set in as she looked into his wide eyes. “What’s wrong, Kingsley? Did we miss something?”

“Your face!” Was Kingsley’s only reply.

Raising a hand to check her head, she finally noticed the wet sensations on her forehead and hands. Looking at her hand in confusion, she wondered if her right hand hadn’t been the one to steady herself on the wall. Turning her gaze she noticed the earlier message was now smeared. Shaking slightly, eyes wide in shock, Tonks turned to the older Auror and let out a scream.

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Harry Potter leaned against the ceiling high windows, his arms spread out wide and his palms pressed against the glass. He watched the people of London carry on in their usual everyday lifestyle in amusement.

“Run, run, run. Life calls for you, my ignorant friends. Oh, the games we’ll play, my friends. It will be beautiful. Run.  Run for me. Run for the games we can play. I’m taking care of minor complications right now, but soon we’ll have the rest of our lives to have our fun. I can hardly stand the wait. Can you feel it coming? Does the excited chill run down your back , as it does mine? “ Harry spoke aloud, as if talking to a life-long friend.  Smiling widely, he pulled his head back from the cool pane and looked up into his reflection.

Lord Voldemort strode through the Ministers office doorway and for the first time in his life, he paused. Across the office from him stood Harry Potter, the thorn in his side for the past twenty years. The single being in existence that made every ounce of him scream out in rage and malevolence. He was once again given pause against attacking as Harry turned around and bent at the waist in a bow.

“Evening, Lord Voldemort. I didn’t expect you tonight. Otherwise I wouldn’t have stopped to take in the view, and spent some time cleaning to appease your senses. Can’t be helped now though, right? Lovely view out there. Muggles running around with their busy schedules. I saw one get hit by an auto just a few minutes ago. I broke into tears at the sight of his magnificent painting on the streets. True art is hard to find. True artists, like that man, are even harder.” Harry let out with a chuckle and then sobered. “Too bad it’s only an illusion. A simple scrying charm and it appears that we’re amongst the gods, looking down upon the mere mortals. Breaks a man’s heart, but we don’t have time for silly pondering tonight, M’Lord, now do we?”

Lord Voldemort stood strong and proud. His red eyes boring holes into the scruffy looking man in front of him. Thoughts streamed through a thousand kilometres a second. Wand at the ready, Voldemort silently judged the last Potter.

Others had fallen to the Potter boy. Others had been fools and had lost their lives not understanding what he was, but he knew. Ever since the thrice damned prophecy , Voldemort had known one thing about Harry James Potter. He was dangerous. Pure and simple.

But now, Voldemort would succeed where he himself had failed to do. He would give Harry Potter  the cautious respect he deserved.  He would see where Potter was going with this charade, and then crush him. He would soon unleash on Harry Potter a twenty year old fury that would shake the heavens, and then begin his reign.

“The simpleton facade suits you rather well, Potter. You spent your early years stumbling around, barely staying alive long enough to become the thorn in my side. It’s only natural now that you’ve chosen to hide under the guise of a fool. You seek to deceive me with this charade? Am I supposed  to fall for this act of insanity. Let’s not use plebeian tricks. I’ll tell you exactly what is happening in this room. At this very moment we have a boy making his last stand against the greatest Dark Lord to ever live. It’s laughable, really. Drop this idiotic pretense, and give me the fight I’ve awaited for quite some time, Potter.

Stopping his earlier ministrations of pulling a loose string from his pant leggings, Harry looked up to the red eyes of Voldemort. Humoured confusion sparkled in his emerald eyes. “Why would I try to deceive you? After all, you’re the one who opened my eyes.” Quickly turning his head from one side of the room to the other, Harry’s eyes swept the room until, with a shout of triumph, he found his quarry. Walking over to a lump near the Minister’s desk, Harry casually kicked a chair out of his way, and crouched down.  “You gave me purpose.” Harry said and gave Voldemort a quick look before continuing his wandering gaze. Gesturing with his hands, Harry began to talk. “Too many people run around, never really living life. You know what I’m talking about? Oh, what a foolish thing to say. Of course you do.  Always caught in the hurried soulless masses. Now, I find myself driven to help the everyday man truly appreciate what he has. I can’t keep all these wondrous feelings and ideas all to my devilishly handsome self, now can I? No, no, no, we certainly cannot. Bad form and all that.”

“Tried to tell ol’ Rufy about it earlier, but he just couldn’t comprehend what you and I are trying to do.” Harry said grinning before giving the lump a pat.

“And what is it that we hope to accomplish? I am striving to usher in the new age of wizard kind. To take the modern world and bend it to my will. To achieve greatness. What is it that you feel that makes us equal enough that you could possibly add yourself to my achievements?” Voldemort hissed. His body poised to attack.

Harry ran a hand down his face, and settled it on his neck. A dark red streak covered the path his hand had travelled. Tilting his head, Harry gave a wide toothy smile. “Nothing. Absolutely, nothing makes us equals. Don’t you find it hilarious that people looked to an incompetent child and convict to save them from the evil man? Thankfully, I found a new purpose in my life. No more worrying. No more struggling to keep my head above water as everyone around me gropes and pulls on me. Just pure and absolute bliss.” Giving a throaty chuckle, Harry reached out and grabbed the lump on the floor.

Rising to his feet, suddenly laughing hysterically, Harry shook his head. Wiping his eyes, Harry calmed himself down and asked, “It’s funny how the world works, you know? Here you are taking over the wizarding world, and low and behold your supposed number two has already killed the minister for you.”

Harry had found a grip hold for his blood covered hand in the former minister’s mane of hair. “Tough bastard, this one was. Too stubborn. Wasn’t much of a fighter, surprisingly. Weird how that works out, right? Former head of the DMLE and all I could get out of him were a few upper level Auror spells. Where’s the flash and show of a hardcore minister? A minister that’s been on the battlefront? I feel cheated. I got jack all. Least he could’ve done was offer me a drink before he started tossing curses around. Might have made it all the more interesting being inebriated.” Harry whined.

Rufus Scrimgeour’s death had been neither pretty nor fast. His eyes bulged from their sockets, his back now in a perpetual arch, and his mouth hung open as if to scream out from the torture and suffering he had gone through up until his demise. Voldemort noticed. He tensed as Harry began to walk around the room. He took notice, with mild interest, that only the upper half of Rufus followed Harry Potter. His legs stayed behind next to the desk with a trail of crimson leading away from them.

“I’ve been busy with a little project. Did you know that when you take the elevator down to the Minister’s office, you’re not really going down? The levels aren’t really in a stack. They’re spread out underneath Muggle London.” Harry pointed out as he turned and continued walking to different points in the room. “Enough with the history lesson. Boring you to tears probably. Sorry, M’Lord. I’ll try to keep this quick. Where was I again? Oh, right, spread out levels of the Ministry. Since they’re not all connected, I thought I’d do my fellow wizards a service and connect each portion of the Ministry. Merlin, did it take a long time. But it was for all a good cause, right? Can’t have a proper Ministry without having them all connected, now can we?”

“That was a mouthful now wasn’t it? It was exhilarating. I can see why you do so love to chat up a fellow right before a fight. That’s the proper way, right? Give a grand speech announcing my intentions and grandstanding. I took notes from that Zambini fellow. Quite an eloquent chap. Those Zamboni’s are terrific people.” Pausing, Harry scratched his head, and looked about the room. “What was I doing again? Ah, right. Did I tell you what I had intended to happen tonight? No matter.” Harry said and continued on his stroll about the office.

“I’m such a chatterbox tonight. Haven’t let you get a word in edgewise. Sorry about that, I’ll try to contain my exuberance for my new found love of babbling. One last thought. Don’t you feel that there’s something magical about blood?”  Harry said as he came to a stop.

And as his words ended Voldemort felt the thrum of magic spring up around him encasing the room.

Snarling, Voldemort sprang into action. “Lasvios, Conteglam, Perelisium”

Wand suddenly in hand, Harry dodged a blue curse that crumbled a chunk out of the wall behind him. Shielding the other two away, Harry let out a bark of laughter. “Very interesting indeed, but shouldn’t we have bowed before partaking in a duel of this magnitude? Fuck it; those old pureblood laws take the fun out of everything anyways. Too much bureaucracy, not enough action s’what I always say.” Moving out of the way of another volley of curses, Harry’s features turned regretful. “I’m sorry that’s a lie. I’ve never said that before, but I swear I’ll use it more often after tonight.”

Voldemort was infuriated. These wards were a slap in the face. He honestly couldn’t believe that Potter thought they could contain him. Indignant rage screamed for Potter’s blood, and he sought with every whip and snap of his wand to satisfy that incurable desire.

Every spell he threw at Potter, whether it had been a transfiguration, or a curse designed to split flesh and bone from one another, or tear a whole in the floor and rain down sharp shards of tile, seemed to fall short of his wrath fuelled mission. Potter was always one step ahead of the spell, ducking, deflecting, shielding, and counter-attacking at times.

But Voldemort could feel a change happening. He could feel Potter wavering. The clash of their magicks applied a force on the room, and it only served to fuel Voldemort’s assault. He could feel it all coming to a close.

Redoubling his efforts Voldemort surged forward, pressing Potter farther and farther back with his onslaught. Emerald green soared through the air. A pale blue curse tacked onto the end of the casting cut through the wake of the Killing curse only slightly divergent.

Harry was having the time of his life. Adrenaline pumped freely through his veins as his magicks collided and fought between his and Voldemort’s. He laughed loudly and unreserved at the challenge set before him as he battled. To him nothing else mattered. This was what life was about. Death and destruction lay before him, yet it only made him press harder.

The bright green glow didn’t faze him. It had been liberally used in this fight. He could feel the magical pull on his skin through his robes, as it passed by. He had time to look up and see Voldemort’s triumphant smirk and narrow red eyes alight in victory as his body was uplifted and a bloody spray shot from him as he flew backwards.

Voldemort slowly strolled up to Harry, his wand at the ready.

Harry could only cough and sputter up blood as liquid flowed out the front and back of a hole the size of a knut in his chest. Writhing in agony, Harry was able to clear his airway of crimson fluid. Wheezing, Harry looked above him to his rival.

Voldemort now stood over the shaking body of Harry, a look of disdain upon his pale snake-like face.

“You were never as good as me, fool. You were never going to be as good as me. You couldn’t possibly have been as good as me. I am your superior; nothing you’ve ever done has come to fruition. All your friends and allies are dead. You failed. You faced off with the greatest wizard to ever be, and you failed so pathetically. Tell me, how did you think it was going to end? Were you going to overcome the might of Lord Voldemort, and then lead the people of Britain to greatness? Did you really have such foolish thoughts, boy? Tell me now!

Quivering, Harry coughed up more blood before responding in a distant voice. “I just wanted to see what would happen if I tore the world apart.”

Harry Potter let out a soft chuckle, and slowly reached into his shirt. Pulling out a flagon, he tried to pull it to his lips, but Voldemort quickly summoned it away. Voldemort raised the container to his nostril slits. His attention quickly turned to Harry as he began to seizure.

Before Voldemort’s eyes, Harry Potter’s body started to change. Features reshaped, hair grew and changed color, body proportions lengthened and shortened. In his place now lay a short balding man of middling age.

His breathing heavy, the man struggled out, “Blood is a magical thing isn’t it, ol’ chap? It took awhile to reverse those blood wards to contain rather than keep out. The only trouble I had was that they are one way now. And as much fun we could have had, I felt it would be shrewd of me to send in a sacrificial lamb in my stead. I’m sure you know how those things work, potions, spells, magical aritfacts to make them compliant. Even still the bugger demanded to play rock-paper-scissors on who went. Or was that me? I can’t really remember. You’d think I’d be able to remember something as momentous as that win. Damn, I rambled again. I have to stop that.”

Now struggling to breathe, the man chuckled as Voldemort shook with anger above him. “The real kicker was when you stormed in. You just stood there and let me throw up the wards. Don’t worry though! I’ll come and visit you. Think of the games we’ll be able to play in a few decades.”

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He stood calmly in the throngs of terrified people. The smell of smoke was thick in the air as he took in a deep breath. He captured the images of the night. Bodies lay in the street, crushed under heel by the mindless droves that ran down the roads; children screamed and cried alone, abandoned by the parents that had sworn to protect them; stores belched out superheated flames, scorching wares and trapped customers.

Explosions suddenly rocked Diagon Alley’s center. Stores exploded outwards and collapsed, and a renewed frenzy of screams penetrated the night air. Wizards and witches streamed down the streets, seeking shelter and escape from the madness.

Harry Potter made his way down the street, cackling at the top of his lungs. Spells burst from his wand, as he weaved his way down towards the exit. Tripping jinxes placed members of the crowd under foot; banishers caught the unsuspecting and threw them into the burning stores; cutting curses gouged out rivulets in the street and tore into men and women; fire spread forth and consumed portions of those fleeing in fear.

He danced among the ashes as he made his way to the very end, and turned once to look at the now razed Diagon Alley before leaving with a wide toothy grin and a simple pop.

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She sat outside a little café; book in one hand, a cigarette in the other. Her latte sat cooling within reach on a quaint looking table. Reaching down with an elegant grace, that seemed almost unnatural; she hooked the cup with delicate looking fingers and brought the frothy drink to her rosy pink lips. After taking a sip, she let out a small hum of satisfaction, and set the cup down with a small clink. A smile graced her features as she read on about the wild exploits of a nobleman’s daughter. She imagined herself as the main character Emma after the disastrous meeting with the regal egotistic Mr. Lochlan, and chuckled contentedly to herself.

“Good day to you Miss Delacour.” A voice beside her made Fleur jump startled.

Accidentally knocking over here latte, Fleur looked across to the man that had surprised her.

With a gasp, Fleur recoiled slightly. Across from her sat the infamous British Bastard. Harry James Potter. It had been almost a year since he’d completely levelled Diagon Alley. The only building left had been the ministry, but even that had been tainted. All the recovery teams that had gone into the Ministry had never come back out.

Britain had been in a state of depression, ever since. It had even started to affect France, though not terribly so. If France had not distanced themselves years ago, due to the Dark Lord Voldemort’s terroristic attacks on a few French cities, they would’ve been brought down with Britain as well.

To Fleur’s shock, gone was the Harry Potter of the arrest warrants. His skin no longer looked pale and clammy. His cheeks were full and sun darkened. Harry’s crows nest still held its untamed quality, but was now clean and neatly trimmed.

In the place of the wild convict, was a well kept man in a grey muggle business suit. He sat parallel to the table, looking off towards the bistro across the street, with a leg crossed and a hand on the table gently strumming his fingers.

What disturbed Fleur even more than the fact that Harry Potter was sitting next to her, was the fact that, judging by the half-empty cup next to Harry’s hand, he had quite possibly been sitting next to her for a relatively long time.

Without her notice.

“That sundress looks absolutely stunning, Ms. Delacour. Imagine my surprise that as I walk to my favourite café, and lo and behold I spot an old friend enjoying a good book and a cuppa. I said to myself, ‘Now Harry, it would be right ungentlemanly to let such an astonishing woman, sit alone and unprotected from vagrants.’ So I sat down and had a drink. There have been quite a few gentleman callers for you this morning. Couldn’t have them disturbing your reading, as you know. Had to practically beat them off with a stick. I hope I didn’t leave any bruises. They seemed like the alright sort, but time is a precious commodity. Let alone time to oneself. I notice that I am also infringing on your time, but I am now pressed for time and wanted to catch up on the times before taking my leave.” Harry said, still staring across the road, but now switching between the people walking on the streets.

Turning his attention finally to Fleur, Harry let out a small chuckle.

“It’s been many years, too many in fact. There’s been so much that’s happened over the years. No doubt you have many wonderfully entertaining stories to tell me. So tell me, love. How are you? Have you been in Paris, very long? I take it that you’ve left your father’s house, and are now on your own? Speaking of your family how is that sweet little sister of yours? Is she in good health?”

At the mention of her sister, Gabrielle, Fleur tensed. Her fingers slowly enclosed around her wand underneath the table, as her eyes burned holes into his.

“If you ‘arm one ‘air on ‘er ‘ead, then I swear to Merlin and Morgana, that I will destroy you. Leave my family alone, Monsieur Potter. What is it that you sought me out for? Why are you here now?” Fleur ground out, her jaw squared in defiance.

“My dear, dear, dear, Ms. Delacour, you are mistaken. If I had wanted to seek out your sister, I would have simply visited your family’s grounds in Southern France. I was merely being polite, love.”

Fleur let out a gasp as a hand enveloped hers, gently forcing her wand toward the ground.

“Tut, tut, tut, Fleur. Such a naughty girl. What good are those famous French etiquette lessons if one doesn’t use them? It’s not very polite to pull a wand on a bloke, love. I would think that would be one of the foremost ideologies taught. Pity that it isn’t. I abhor impolite manners, you see. But let’s not discuss my particular preferences, when we have so much more to talk about.” Harry pleasantly spoke as he looked past Fleur towards a group of school children passing by.

“Gabrielle would be little older than they, wouldn’t she. Marvellous child; your Gabrielle. Head of her year, a favourite of Maxime’s, the keeper of many a boy’s heart. A list no doubt as long as Dumbledore’s used to be. She likes to summer out in Italy, no?” Questioned Harry, a smirk quirking at the corners of his mouth. “Imagine my surprise when I stumble upon the esteemed Monsieur Delacour’s youngest progeny, being accosted by fiends of most dubious nature. Abduction, extortion, betrayal; add in a touch of romance and you have a very fine witch’s book series for only a small sum of galleons and sickles.” Harry chuckled.

At Fleurs’ horror stricken gaze, Harry tilted his head to the side slightly and spoke. “Rest assured; your most beloved sister is well taken care of. Should harm befall her lovely innocent head, I would personally bear the burden of eternal shame and seek out redemptive actions. As the Aurors out in Italy can most assuredly attest, I am rather generous with actions towards those who’ve laid hands on sweet, charming Gabrielle.”

“You’re mad. Utterly, mad. Where is my Gabrielle? If you ‘ave ‘armed ‘er I will kill you, you monster. Take me to ‘er, now!” Fleur started in, but stopped, wincing, as Harry applied pressure to her wand hand.

“Hysterics do not suit you, I’m afraid. Everything will be as it should soon enough. I have been dying to talk to the reputable Monsieur Delacour on his stance over the capturing and trials of wanted wizards.” Harry said and then paused. Looking to Fleur he spoke again. “That was a right mouthful, wasn’t it?” Letting out a bark of laughter, Harry shook his head and finished off his drink.

“Whatever you’re selling, man. The hottie doesn’t seem to want it. Now be a good little jerk off and get out of here. Let a real man show you how to get a woman.” A random man said, as he approached the table. Apparently taking the uneasy and frightened looks Fleur had had on her face as an opportunity to get in good with a possible lay, the man had wandered over in hopes of scaring off the smaller man that was distressing the blonde with a tight body.

Harry turned and let his eyes travel over the intruder before opening his mouth. “We had a very interesting conversation already in progress. It’s very rude to jump in and interrupt it like you have now just done. Apologizing and making your way back to your friends would be appreciated.” Harry stated his tone mild.

“Fuck that, and you too faggot.” The man snorted, and turned to address the woman. “Hey if you want to ditch this loser I can show you a good time honey. C’mon, it’s not like this puny faggot can please a woman like you.”

Harry spoke again, his cold steel in his voice, “Apologize to the lady, and leave us. You have this one chance. I don’t want to eviscerate you and strangle you with your own intestines. Well. To be honest, I do want to, but I have a schedule to keep and I don’t want to clear out a time to do it.”

“What did you say freak?” The man said, confusion on his face, as he turned his attention from the girl to Harry.

Harry’s hand shot out from his lap to the man’s hand, and a dull thunk was heard. Harry’s fork stood out of the hand, and as the man yelled out in pain, Harry stood up and grabbed the back of the guy’s head.

Slamming the man’s head on the table, Harry reached into the man's coat pocket and pulled out a fancy leather wallet. Holding the stunned man on the table, Harry flipped through it until he found a plastic card. Looking at the man, he spoke in a calm, collected voice.

“Well Roger Hamilton,” Harry paused, glancing at the man’s driver’s license, “of Durham, North Carolina, it looks like I’ll be seeing you later tonight. I would appreciate it if you would apologize to the lady and went on your way. Now. If you will.”

Standing up and pulling the fork from the bloodied hand, Harry gave the frightened man a shove and gave a snort of disdain as the man scurried away towards his friends. Brushing himself off Harry turned back to Fleur, only to find a slender wand under his nose.

“You will take me to ‘er! You will take me to my Gabrielle, now!” Fleur declared vehemently, fire in her eyes, and ice in her voice.

A look of exasperated irritation crossed Harry’s face. “Have I not talked to you about pointing wands and rudeness? You see when one menaces another with a wand in the others face, one should always make sure that they are ready to use it. No matter what. Even if the other could spring forward, one should always have a curse on the tip of the tongue and a wordless half cast.” Looking down at the slightly turquoise wand tip, Harry looked back up with a grin. “Good girl. I’m glad that French school of yours was able to finally teach you something about duel casting. You intrigue me, that’s why I will grant you this one boon without reproach for this insult. You want to see your sister, and see her you shall.” Harry said shortly.

A series of pops startled Fleur and she spun to face the incoming persons. Six men apparated down the street from the café, and made their way to Fleur and Harry.

“I had hoped to leave before they got here.” Harry sighed. “Suits just don’t ever seem to get clean once you get human brain matter in them. Pity, I rather liked this suit. Well, on to business, might as well put this attire to its main purpose, right love? Did you know there is a type of wizarding mafia in Italy? It appears they don’t take too kindly to people that dismember their young heir. Who knew?” Harry said with a shrug.

A smile on his face, Harry rolled up his sleeves and pulled out his wand. “Get ready, love. They’ll hit you as much as they’ll hit me. Oh yes. I wouldn’t be surprised if they tried to level this entire area to get to me. Naturally with you by my side, they will assume that you are with me, and are just as guilty. I do hate it when others assume. Terrible inconvenience and what not.” Harry spoke excitedly.

“I suppose I could set aside my fun, and take you to your sister. Would you like that? Of course you would. Splendid. Let’s be off then.” And with that Harry, pulled Fleur close without a response from her, spun around once and disapparated with a slight pop.

Fleur found herself, moments later, in a well lit, nicely furnished room. Quickly distancing herself from Harry, Fleur moved up against a wall and looked for her wand.

“Don’t worry about your wand, love. I’ll keep it nice and safe for you.” Harry said twirling Fleur’s wand in between his fingers. “Why don’t you check on your loving sister? She’s just down the hall you know.”

At his words, Fleur scrambled towards the door, and shot down the hallway. Bursting through the opposite door, she looked wildly around and with a shout of relief spotted Gabrielle.

Running over to a large bed, Fleur fell to her knees at the side and cradled the now awake Gabrielle. Tears streamed down her face as she spoke rapidly in French, checking Gabrielle for signs of harm. Not seeing any damages, Fleur frantically kissed Gabrielle’s head, and pulled her close, enveloping Gabrielle in a hug.

Gabrielle’s crying brought on a whole new wave of anxiety as Fleur tried to listen to what she was saying.

“Slow down, I can’t understand you. Please slow down, my Belle.” Fleur said trying to calm her sister down.

“She said something about her boyfriend, I think. I might have mistranslated the word kidnapping with a term of endearment. Silly mistakes, it could’ve been easily avoided if they had spoken a proper language. My Italians not so good, you see. No matter. She’s safe either way now.” Harry spoke out.

He moved from where he had been standing against the door frame and slowly strolled forward.

“Stay away!” Fleur screamed. “Stay away from us, you, you monster! Let us go!”

Harry continued forward at his slow pace. He raised a single finger to his lips, silently commanding Fleur to keep quiet.

Fleur grew more and more hushed, whimpering out half hearted pleas. “Please. Please Harry, let us go.”

Coming to a stop in front of Fleur, Harry gently reached down, cupped her chin and raised her face to look at him. His eyes focused in an connected to her. Rubbing his thumb on her soft cheek, Harry spoke softly, a small smile on his face, “Miss Delacour, has anyone ever told you that you have such a beautiful neck.”

-Fin- Mother fucker!