Reclamation (prologue)

“You have served me well Thomas, I do not forget those who aid me. You may have her wand, I have no need of it now. I have no doubt that it will suit you better than the poor excuse for a twig that you‘ve been using..” The voice rasped.

A much stronger voice replied. “My Lord, you have helped me so much, it is I who is in debt here. Are you sure you do not wish me to join you on your quest?”

“If all goes well, I will call for you. I will need a strong voice in the east. Go to the Parthenon at midnight at the end of this month. At the foot of the hill on the eastern side is a ruined statue in the form of a bull, tap the forehead of the bull with your wand and intone ‘The lord of the serpents has granted me access’. Use it wisely Thomas.”

“Of course my lord, The isles shall fall at your wand.”

“Naturally…Wormtail, it is time we departed. Farewell Thomas, serve your lord well.”

The Albanian man rose as the crack of dissaparation sounded, turning towards the south, he studied the sky for a moment before spinning into crushing emptiness towards Greece.

***

“Accio!” Harry yelled, pointing his wand at the triwizard cup.

It flew into the air, and soared towards him, Harry jumped and caught it by the handle. He heard Voldemort’s scream of fury at the same moment as he felt the jerk behind his navel that indicated Portkey travel, it was speeding him away in a whirl of wind and colour, Cedric along with him…they were going back.

***

“A book?” Shouted Zamir. “He sent you to Greece, where I might remind you that you’re a fugitive, to get a book? Why you have listened to that…that…shade up until now amazes me. He was a great sorcerer once, nobody can deny that, but he is no longer.”

“Ye of little faith Zamir, he saved my life, both of our lives. We would be nosferatu now if he hadn’t come when he did.”

“And I am grateful to him for it, but do you really think he can succeed in his goals?”

Flipping open a page of his mentors journal, Thomas responded, “Yes I do…keep watch will you? And bring me a drink.”

Muttering, Zamir rose and headed for the cellar, wondering whether to choose the vodka or the wine. The former residents of the house had good tastes. “Why do I put up with you Thomas?”

“Because I would kill you if you didn’t.” Thomas called after him.

Zamir made his choice. Taking a long swig from the clear Russian brew, he ascended the stairs and poured a glass for his friend. “What's in that thing that interests you so much anyway?”

“The experiences of an extraordinary wizard lies in these pages, Zamir. A man who terrifies even the Chief Warlock.”

“The Chief Warlock is the main reason your master failed.”

“Our master failed because he grew too arrogant. The Chief Warlock is a hollow man, haunted by his past failures. The Dark Lord represents everything the old man did wrong. This journal is the proof that our Lord trusts me and that when the time comes I shall stand at his shoulder, and you at mine.” The dark haired Albanian slams shut the worn leather journal and stows it in his robes. “I am going to sleep, tonight we go to work.”

Zamir necked another glass of vodka and rubbed the bridge of his nose.


13 years later

“You cannot possibly be thinking of going through with this Thomas, it is insane!”

The burly Albanian rounded on his friend, “I have waited ten years for this Zamir. At your request I held off until I was sure I could crush him, at your request I have held off until I garnered enough allies to cover my tracks, will you deny me my revenge once more? I swore to avenge him, I owed him my life and my magic and I swear I will strike you down this instant if you do not get out of my way.”

“Potter killed a Dark Lord with a disarming charm and you expect to get the better of him? Fine Thomas but you walk to your death.”

“It was a lucky shot, Potter is a skilled Auror but he has more luck than skill. It’s time that luck ran out.”

“Thomas be serious. You have people that are willing to follow you to the death, you control the Albanian Ministry, and you're still fixated on those damned freezing islands. You could build an empire here to rival Grindlewald's.

“And I will Zamir, while I'm gone, you make the descisions. You've stood by me all these years and I value your counsil. Erik is the brawn but he knows to listen to you.”

“At least take a few knights with you.”

“I must do this alone, the knights are still too few in number.”

Without another word he dissaparated leaving a pensieve friend behind him.

Godrics Hallow, Wales

The crack of apparation startled Harry Potter from his copy of the Daily Prophet.

“Hey love”, he said to his wife as she walked into the kitchen and pecked him on the cheek.

“Angelina wanted me over at the Quidditch Pitch later so I dropped of the kids with Mum and Hermione. Why aren’t you at work?”

“Hmm? Oh it’s been quiet enough the last week and Ron said he could hold the fort, so I took the day of-…” Harry was interrupted as a silvery Jack Russell loped through the window. The small dogs mouth opened and Ron’s voice boomed forth “Harry we’ve got a call near Birmingham, dark magic on a muggle, I could use you over here right now.”

Harry sighed, “Well, that’s the lazy day option out of the window, I’ll probably be back late. See you later.” Harry kissed his wife on the cheek briefly and dissaparated away.

Hidden with the aid of a disillusionment charm and shrubbery, neither Harry nor Ginny took notice of the cloaked figure approaching the back door.

Ginny heard the door creak and turned around to see a flood of green light erupting from a wand. She quickly threw herself to the ground and drew her own.

“Expelliarmus” she intoned.

The intruder casually deflected it away and fired a string of silent curses at her. Ginny jumped behind the table and screamed as it exploded sending a splintered leg through her thigh.

“Avada Kedavra” She yelled in desperation.

The cloaked figure dodged the barely weak curse easily and threw a bone breaker at her shoulder. Ginny raised a feeble shield but the curse tore threw it like paper and shredded her shoulder, her collar bone buckled and was forced inward by the spell. Screaming in agony she didn’t notice the look of disgust in the eyes of the man above her. She looked at him and silently pleaded with him for mercy.

“Avada Kedavra”


***

“What happened here?” he asked as he approached Ron.

“Some sick bastard shot a dark blasting curse at this old woman. Took of her leg and she died of blood loss. Obliviators are having a hell of a time trying to round up the witnesses.”

“Why would someone attack an old woman in the middle of Birmingham?”

Ron looked pointedly at Harry who scratched his neck uncomfortably. “Okay… why would a wizard attack an old muggle lady in the middle of Birmingham?”

“Haven’t the faintest, it smells rotten to me”

“That could be the corpse you know.”

“Prat, act serious for once” Ron snorted, “Can you imagine me saying that to you ten years ago?” he asked with a grin.

“In fairness I had a lot on my mind back then, pity you didn’t.. you might have been more help.” Harry said with a grin.

“That’s not what the Order of Merlin says.”

“Yeah, second class…and you had to share it with Hermione” Harry smiled as Ron grimaced, that was always a sore point.

“Arrrgh…shit” Harry gasped.

“What’s wrong?” asked Ron.

“The locket, someone’s casting unforgivables at the Hallow.

Ron whitened and followed Harry as he dissaparated on the spot.


Harry materialized in his front garden and hurried into his house, wand ready. The sight that greeted him shocked him to the core. His wife, Ginevra Potter lay flat on the wall held up by some sort of sticking charm. Blood had trickled from the wounds in her shoulder and thigh and gathered in a horrifying poolat her feet. She was dead. Harry dropped to his knees and let out a cry of anguish. A hollow thud sounded behind him and he turned to see Ron lying on the floor unconscious.

“Vell, vat you think of my handivork, Potter? The cloaked figure asked, smirking.

Whipping out his wand in a fit of rage Harry channelled his power through it and roared, “Confringo”

The black cloaked man threw up a hasty shield but the curse was too powerful; the shield buckeled but took most of the shot leaving the remainder to throw him against the kitchen wall. Guiding himself with pure rage, Harry threw two more blasting curses and followed with a bellowed torture curse.

The robed figure blocked the blasting curses in an impressive display of strength before summoning the kitchen table to block the cruciatus. The table blocked the curse but didn't survive the experience; it exploded, showering the foreigner with broken wood.

From the ground, he snapped out a sickly yellow curse that looked like a bone breaker. Harry confidenty threw up a shield only to realise that the slow moving curse was a piercer. It cut threw Harry's shield with ease and drove a hole a galleon wide into his wand arm; the damage was so great that his wand fell from his hand.

“Crucio”

Unbearable pain flooded through Harry's system. Over the years he had taken one or two torture curses, but only one man had ever possessed the technique to deliver the maximum amount of pain. Voldemort. Looking into the eyes of his killer, Harry saw the same gleeful face that the ex-Dark Lord displayed when torturing his victims.

“Yes Potter, you recognise, don't you?”

With that, Harry Potter saw the flood of green light charge towards him for the third time in his life.

Thomas looked down on the broken lifeless figure of the man who was revered around the world for being powerful enough to slay the dreaded Voldemort. He apparated away, dissapointed.

***

Miles away, in St. Mungo’s hospital in London, a child was born. A child with emerald green eyes and a crop of messy black hair.

Rebecca and Michael Jones decided to name their son Harry, after the man who had freed wizarding Britain from tyranny.