A/N: I own nothing related to the Harry Potter series.

They say that history is written by the victors. Well, that's not entirely true. I suppose history is written by the side with the most victories, or the side without the biggest losses…I think that's the category that the last Great War should fall under. Technically, Voldemort and his forces had won nearly every skirmish…often winning before a true fight could begin, and demoralizing the public with every strike. He had the government, the financial institution, and the only educational institution in the country tightly in his grasp. The dark side only lost because their leader was destroyed.

"Tonight, we show our might!" the man shouted. He was tall, unnaturally skinny, and radiated power. His ecstasy, as dark as it was, suffocated those in the room. "The Ministry is ours! Without even a casualty to show for our efforts, we seized the government legally." The last part was said with a smirk as he gestured toward a small group beside him. "We have our dear Pius Thicknese to thank for a large portion of this. But we cannot forget how well a few others have proven their worth and faithfulness in the political arena, as well as in other exploits, can we? These men shall be rewarded."

"Gringotts," the man continued. "The very financial heartbeat of our kind…is ours! Those filthy creatures still handle the day to day tasks, but make no mistake: Lord Voldemort reigns over all gold in all of the land! And I now have their king's head to prove it." He smiled maliciously as he lifted one foot and placed it upon a head at the edge of the stage he stood upon. There were others that also bordered the stage: Goblins, house-elves, magical creatures, and even a few human heads were visible. Most were contorted in pain or disfigured in some fashion. "The whole of Diagon Alley, the cultural epicenter of Magical Britain, is in awe of our presence as we walk freely down the streets. No more are our ways forced into dingy shops and stands in Knockturn Alley. No more are filthy mudbloods and blood-traitors controlling important jobs and roles in our society!"

Lord Voldemort descended from his platform, and began to walk amongst the crowd of the gathered Death Eaters. He dropped his voice to whisper that echoed throughout the room, "But tonight we will capture Hogwarts. Nearly every man and woman in this room has occupied that piece of history for seven years of their life. Every wand wielding human around knows that this is more than a mere school. This is Magical History! This is our legacy! We will restore our society into a system that finds, nurtures, and produces the finest of sorcerers and mages! We will cultivate talent, pass down our ways, and we will eliminate all those who are unworthy of knowing such a gift exists and all those who defend them!"

The crowd roared in triumph as plans were drawn up to capture the last gathering of the resistance to the Dark Lord.

I say history isn't written by the victors, because I won; but yet I still lost. Confused? You see, I destroyed Lord Voldemort when he was at his peak. True, a lot of it was due to circumstance and his own faults, but I defeated him. Their side had the biggest loss. I, the victor, did not write history. Victors are warriors: The men and women who struggle, fight, sacrifice, and attempt to survive while aiming for a greater cause. History is written by the politicians who control the victor's circumstances. While my strengths were on a broom or in a fight, I was hopeless in a debate. Politicians fight a battle I couldn't hope to win without even a full Hogwarts education. They wrote the history they wanted. I won the final battle, but also became a large scapegoat for the final blame. I had not targeted a single civilian at any point, but apparently certain redheaded sidekick (and I feel fully guiltless in using the term now) let information slip regarding a prophecy…and thus it became an accepted theory that I could, and should, have done more to end the war sooner. The entirety of the Potter inheritance was seized to cover the debts necessary to "help struggling families, help rebuild society, and pay for the bank you nearly destroyed". Or at least, that's what the semi-official transcript of my hearing says. I'm fairly certain I saw the senior members of the Wizengamot with a few more expensive accessories than they previously owned.

The ancient wizard gazed from his stand imperiously. Behind him, the members of the Wizengamot were muttering amongst themselves and appeared unsure of the story they were hearing. How could this boy accomplish what no one else could? And if he were the solution, why did it take so long to act? The Chief Warlock readjusted his glasses as he checked the notes in front of him. "Now you say that you were privy to special information regarding You-Know-Who, and that only you could defeat him?" he asked. "Now if this is all true, why did you not work with our leaders to come up with a strategy that wouldn't leave our country in ruins?"

"Well I couldn't very well come up with a strategy with Fudge, could I?" the angry wizard snapped back. "Where were you all when this country was being left in ruins anyway? I don't recall seeing any of you at Hogwarts, or any other fight that occurred!"

"That is beside the point, Mr. Potter," the Chief stated. He then began to lecture and gestured toward the entire audience. "The problem is that we are now facing a rebuilding effort unlike any seen in recent history. Every bit of our world has been attacked, and most destroyed, by the man that you have defeated, and only now find it important enough to tell us that you were the only one who could do so! So what we're led to believe, Mr. Potter, is that YOU were the one responsible for combating the Dark Lord…never mind the amount of laws and statutes you broke in the process…and because YOU were responsible for a defense that you didn't provide until nearly every single feature of society was destroyed, YOU will be the one held responsible for building it back up. And we will start by seizing and liquidating ALL assets belonging to the House of Potter."

Seeing some members of the crowd smirk at the stated penalties, Harry lost it. "You've got some nerve to hold ME responsible for a mess that YOU ALL helped create and develop!"

"That will not help your circumstances, Harry Potter," the wizard retorted. Being the only non-law enforcement official with a usable wand in the room, he shot a Calming Spell at Harry. "We are not completely without heart. You will be allowed to retain a few items that are too personal to separate a wizard from. You have this afternoon to visit your family's account at Gringotts."

I'm actually not upset at losing riches. They can be earned again, given enough time and with the right direction. Sure, there were unpleasant jeers and unfriendly attention to deal with (how is Draco Malfoy still rich?), but you really find out what you're made of, and who truly has your best interests at heart when you have nothing physical to offer anyone.

Blood runs thicker than water, and the Weasley family is about as thick as it gets (there's a joke there if you look for it). After realizing that I had lost my financial status, and had no desire to fight for it, Ginny lost all interest in restarting our relationship. Ron, although ashamed at letting the prophecy slip, had been on the receiving end of a lot of good publicity as a noble pureblood with a humble upbringing, and had received many gifts and offers to give his insight on the war. Hermione wasn't technically a Weasley at the time, but was in a newfound relationship and was unwilling to raise too much of a fuss about anything other than finishing school. Smartest witch of her generation indeed, but can't do a bit of independent thinking to save her life (or mine for that matter). The rest of the family was busy with grieving a lost family member, Fred, and adjusting to this new post-war lifestyle. Somehow, I found myself on the outside looking in.

Harry was sitting in a booth at the Leaky Cauldron waiting for his friends to arrive. He had been to the bank to secure the few assets he could find, and be permitted, to keep for himself. The fireplace in the back corner flared a bright green, and one-by-one, three individuals came out: Hermione Granger, her boyfriend Ron Weasley, and Harry's ex-girlfriend Ginny Weasley.

"I'm over here guys," Harry called out. When the three visitors sat down, he seemed a bit anxious, but started the conversation. "So does anyone want a drink?" he asked. Ginny let out a slight scoff and turned her head away from the table, looking out of a nearby window. "And exactly what is so asinine about an offer of a drink?" Harry questioned.

Before Ginny could retort, Hermione interrupted, "It's not that we wouldn't like to have a drink, Harry. But should you really be offering us beverages given your current circumstances?"

"You mean the one where I've been sued on behalf of Wizarding Britain and will be the unofficial provider of the new world order?" Harry responded amusedly.

"Yes, that one Harry!" Ginny snapped. Hermione tried to stretch out her hand to calm Ginny, but it was slapped away. "You can't honestly be expecting us to take anything from you right now? You don't really have much to offer in any sense."

Narrowing his eyes, he whispered, "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"

Ron rubbed at his neck a bit awkwardly and began to speak. "Look mate," he said. "It's nothing against you personally. I mean we've all been through a lot together."

"No shit!" Harry snapped.

"Just listen!" Ron said patiently. "Mum is going on about proper futures and careers and such, and well…obviously you and Ginny had a thing before. But that was before, you know, your situation changed."

Harry started to chuckle to himself. He let his head hit the table for a second before looking each of them in the eyes. "So what you're saying," he started. "Is that because I'm now stripped of nearly everything that I used to possess, most of which I wasn't aware of, you can't be hanging around with me?"

"It's not like that! Honestly!" Ron exclaimed. "I mean you can still come around for family dinners and the like once we get things a bit more sorted and settled. George is still a bit touched in the head, and don't even get me started on mum since Bill and Charlie have gone back to their homes. But a lot of questions were raised about your future and how you would live and the means you had to go on."

"What Ron is trying to say, Harry," Ginny cut in. "Is that there is no more romantic link between the two of us," she said while gesturing between herself and Harry. "Where you're at in your life doesn't match up with where I'm trying to go. Even Ron has a bit of a following starting up with his new deal…"

At that, the temperature in the room seemed to drop. Hermione looked at Harry nervously, as his eyes began to glow. Ginny realized she may have gone a bit too far, and Ron looked as if he had been hit with the Slug-Belching Jinx again.

"New deal?" Harry questioned furiously. "I'll get to the human Niffler here in a second, but you!" He pointed at Ron, his hand shaking in anger. "I've got an idea of what's going on, but you have five seconds to confirm it. NOW!"

"One night I had a bit too much to drink and it may have come out that you had been the center of a prophecy to fight You-Know-Who," Ron mumbled quickly. "A nearby writer caught wind of it, and one thing led to another, and now we're talking contracts and such for information."

"So what you're telling me, is that you're almost directly responsible for the situation I'm in?" Harry asked rhetorically.

"Harry, it was an honest mistake!" Hermione defended. "He didn't mean for anything like this to happen."

"Didn't mean...didn't mean for any of this to happen?!" Harry cried. "If I thought he meant it to happen, you'd be picking him out of the wall right now. You've got nerve to come at me like this!"

"Now see here, Potter," Ginny began.

"Don't you even think about reasoning with me, gold-digger," Harry snapped. "I'd rather have you out of sight, out of mind. You really have no say in this discussion."

"Don't you have a go at my sister, Harry," Ron warned. "That's out of bounds."

Harry started to chuckle, stood up, and slapped a Sickle on the table for the drink he had. "This entire situation is out of bounds, Weasley." And then he walked out of the pub.

At one point, I was bitter, but very quickly I realized that I didn't need that sort of lifestyle. I eventually came to the conclusion that I would create my own destiny, my own legacy; and that's what leads me to this simple, but crazy decision: To be a traveling, freelance wizard.

There has to be a point in history where every pureblooded family wasn't loaded with Galleons. They had to have earned their fortune somehow. History is littered with stories of the wizards of old, and how they traveled the lands seeking and teaching new magics. Offering services where they were needed and appreciated. Creating new alliances and conquering enemies wherever they may be. These are how these modern families and reputations got started. I had already lost every Knut to my family's name, stripped of the celebrity status that had once been a burden to me, and had been given the blame for the nation's struggles. But I had been allowed one trip to Gringotts to retrieve family heirlooms (that weren't considered National Treasures). I found couple dozen research journals of various subjects written by my ancestors, a two-compartment trunk that had enough space in one area for my books and the other for my clothes and small belongings, a family album, and a simple silver band with the family name engraved in runes on the interior (couldn't keep any of the flashy stuff, damn Goblins). I had managed to keep the Invisibility Cloak and Maurader's Map for myself though…and I decided to hang onto the other Hallows as well; sometimes the small victories are the ones you take the most pride in. So now, with nothing but the shrunken trunk in my pocket, the wands strapped to my forearms, and the small backpack and clothes on my back…I set off on a quest to reestablish the Potter legacy, and create a place in history that no politician could take away.

"Where does a man go when he has nothing holding him home, and no other place he's ever known?" Harry mumbled to himself. "Not even at my eighteenth birthday yet, but I'm apparently old enough to receive Britain's displeasure. Idiots could have at least given me a map."

He found himself wandering down Diagon Alley, while attempting to ignore the whispers and frowns in his direction. Getting fed up with the general attention, he turned down a lesser used street that was a bit seedier than the main road. "Where in the circles of Hell am I?" he muttered to himself. "Not Knockturn for sure…but damn close."

Looking around, he noticed several shops and parlors that weren't exactly dark, but were certainly not anything that parents exposed children to. Windows looked as if they hadn't been cleaned in months, sun didn't shine in the streets, and there were very few people actually outside. He made his way to a pub, or what appeared to be a pub, and approached a short wizard who was flipping a Galleon into the air with his thumb repeatedly. The wizard barely acknowledged Harry, and grunted, "What 'chu looking for boy? This isn't the place you're lookin' for."

"Well I hardly know what I'm looking for other than a place to sit, gather my thoughts, and see where the wind takes me," Harry replied, hoping not to start a fight right now.

The wizard stopped flipping the coin, and took a closer look at Harry. "Well I'll be a Boggart's tit…" he whispered quietly. "Boy wonder himself at our little establishment! I'll tell you what, Potter. This may the place for you after all; what with that lawsuit you just found yourself paying."

"What do you mean this might be what I'm looking for?" Harry questioned.

The wizard stepped aside and opened the door, gesturing for Harry to follow. "Step inside, and the name is Cid," the man said. "I'll explain a few things and there are some folks you may want to meet."

Inside of the pub was nothing like the street outside. The street was almost dark and probably crawling with germs. Inside the pub, while very old-fashioned, was very well kept…and had dozens of patrons spread at circular tables. There were men arm wrestling and gambling, women gossiping and trading accessories; but one thing Harry immediately noticed was that everyone was dressed for some form of battle. The place was littered with different types of weapons, armor, and protective accessories. He found his eyes drawn to a woman near the bar. She was a tall blonde wearing tight, form fitting black pants with brown boots…and a white blouse that showed just a bit of her curvy figure. He stared a bit too much, however, and she leisurely gestured to the dagger on her waist and the pole strapped to her back. The message was clear: Eyes off.

"Haha, I see your eyes found Lizzie," Cid snickered. "Don't take it personally. She's not friendly with anyone. Actually, every person in here could probably cut you apart ten ways before you blinked, but she's a bit more tense than most."

At Harry's bewildered look, he continued. "What you have to understand about this place, first, is that this is the Guild," he said. "Every person in here is a member, and they all take odd jobs that are posted on this here board." At this, Cid pointed toward a board that was about half as tall as Harry himself, and was littered with scrolls, some on top of others, and had different amounts of stars at the tops of the pages.

"Each of these scrolls represents a job that's available," Cid explained. "The stars refer to the level of difficulty or likelihood of trouble. The jobs may be as simple as a bit of spellwork or warding for a property, which would probably be one-star…or it may be finding what animal has been wreaking havoc in an area, which could end up being three or four-stars depending on the area. There are very few five-star issues, but those are only taken by the high level Guild members."

Seeing so many wizards and witches that were apparently dangerous and well-trained, Harry asked, "If there are so many of you now, where were you when this country was going to hell?"

Cid laughed openly. "Everyone here cares about one thing, and no one on either side could do a thing for us," he replied. "We care about money, we care about our reputation as a members, and we live to tell the stories of our scars and treasures when we gather here again. Voldemort, and there isn't a soul here who is afraid of him, had nothing to offer us…and him taking over doesn't stop the jobs from comin'. And that Dumbledore fellow hardly shows his face anywhere he doesn't want to manipulate…and we can't stand those kind around here. Now, there was the occasional trade of cash for information by both sides, but nothing that impacted the Guild. We stay away from main society and focus on building our individual legacies."

Harry seemed dazed by the response, but seemed intrigued by the structure. Here was a place where he could just sit and goof around while hearing incredible stories, but also perhaps have a chance to establish a legacy built on his accomplishments. "So you're saying I could be a part of this Guild, and that's why you're letting me come inside?" he asked.

"Right you are chap!" Cid replied while clapping Harry on the shoulder. "There's a fellow you'll need to meet, Robbie. He runs the pub and the Guild, for the most part. He has to approve of any member. Now mind you, members don't always have to be here. You can take as many or as few jobs as you'd like. Some hunters only come every couple of months to snatch up some new scrolls. Others stay here for weeks just waiting on something they really want to do. Just don't come back snatching scrolls if you haven't finished a few that you still have." He continued to the back of the pub, and approached a door that read simply "BOSS". Cid knocked three times, waited a second, and then knocked a fourth time…and then a scratchy voice called for him to come in.

Robbie's office looked like some form of news room. Papers were littered everywhere. Hundreds of scrolls with ink marks scratched all over their pages. Quills were thrown haphazardly across the floor. One man sat reclined in a chair, with his feet perched on a wooden desk. Seeing that two people had entered the office, he set his feet on the ground, rested his arm on the table, and began to nonchalantly twirl a knife in his hand. "Now who the hell are you and what are you doing here?" he asked roughly.

Cid gestured for Harry to keep quiet, and he spoke up. "Robbie this is Harry Potter," he began. "He was wandering through the alley, and I thought he might be a decent member. I mean look at 'im! If anyone has the need to succeed in this environment, it's him now."

Robbie stopped toying with his knife and examined Harry thoughtfully. "The famed Potter fortune is gone," he muttered. "Here we have a hero with nothing to his name and nothing in his pockets. Tell me, Potter, what makes you want the Guild life? How do I know I'm not just sending you out for slaughter?"

"I have nothing to lose, and everything to gain," Harry replied. "This place has a sense of community. Even amongst the rivalries to have the greatest success and the thrilling stories…everyone here is part of one community and they gather in one location. I have nothing that even resembles that in my life. I have been hungry since I was introduced to the wizarding world for some way to be known for what I've actually done. I want to be known, respected, liked, or even disliked for the things I actually have control over. And if I do get sent to slaughter, then I'm sure no one will really bat an eyelid. I have nothing and no one here."

Shaking his head to himself, Robbie let out a low chuckle. "I'll tell ya what kid," he started. "You have the stones to live this life. You lived on the run for a year, and that'll prepare you for anything you could possibly face with us. But you're hungry. I can see it. I can feel it. You want to do things that legends and myths are built on; and that's exactly what the greatest Guild members strive for. Sure, some just take odd jobs occasionally for an extra few Sickles in their pocket. But the best, the ones with titles to their names, they seek the thrill of the hunt and relish in the victory of completion. You have that, boy. And you have that in abundance. I want to see how you handle a few small jobs, and then you'll need to shadow some of our higher ranked members before we just turn you loose.

"Jobs can be literally anywhere. You're not limited to just Britain. Go look out at that board, it's segmented somewhat by geographic region. Find a few jobs you want to tackle, or even a few places you want to see. None of the jobs posted there are outside of the skill level of a low-ranked Guild member. The truly dangerous ones are jobs that I'd personally give to you. You can't take a three, four, or five-star job without shadowing someone or without my approval anyway. Don't get yourself killed, and don't come back here until you've got a few wins under your belt. And remember, you don't get paid without physically having that flyer to give to the person who needed the job done. Now go do something productive with your life."

Cid ushered Harry out of the room and directed him toward the board. Having a better chance to examine the board, Harry noticed the types of jobs that were available. Some elderly witches needed assistance with repairs and home projects, some families needed help with local wildlife that were terrorizing their land, and some families needed simple favors they couldn't be bothered to do themselves.

"None of these seem, well, thrilling," Harry muttered. "A lot of this is basic defense or charm work."

"That's true for the most part," Cid replied. "But you have to consider a few things: Not everyone had a Hogwarts education, Robbie controls the more dangerous jobs, and some people are just lazy. Who are we to tell someone how to spend their money?"

"Well then how am I supposed to have these amazing stories and build a reputation?" Harry asked.

"Kid, a lot of these guys are full of crap," he laughed. "Sure there are some truly amazing feats that our people handle. But everyone started with jobs like this, and when you're out in the field, who's to know what really happened other than you? A good story teller can make anything sound good. Half of the fun here is listening to how ridiculous some things sound, and just enjoying the camaraderie with everyone else. But if you want the true thrill-seeking lifestyle, then get a few of these under your belt, and you'll work your way up. I'd recommend picking some places to travel to. See places you haven't been to before, and you can even meet up with friends from time to time. Most of these aren't time sensitive."

Harry examined the board and decided to take four jobs; one from Asia, one from Africa, one from North America, and one from South America. Satisfied with the next chapter of his life, he grabbed the scrolls, placed them in his bag, and made his way out of the pub. Cid shut the door and resumed flicking his Galleon. Before leaving the alley, Harry called back to him, "Wait! How am I supposed to get to these places?"

"That's part of the fun kid!" Cid shouted. "Once you have a bit of money it may be a bit easier, but you could use the adventure. Ask questions, gather favors, spread your reputation among everyday people. This is the way you can start to build your name again, boy."

Later that night, Harry was sitting on a hilltop that overlooked the surrounding countryside. On a whim, he had decided to Apparate to a spot he frequently gazed at from the Hogwarts Express. He often lost himself in thought on the train staring at the grass flowing in the wind, and decided it was as good a place as any to do some heavy thinking. He double checked his trunk to make sure he had everything he needed, and then shrunk it down and placed it in his pocket. His wands were still strapped to his forearms, and his backpack slung over one shoulder. Harry set off with a near-silent pop.

Thoughts? Recommendations for different jobs? Anyone know where I took the idea of a Guild from? (Hint, it's a video game that I dearly miss playing.) Thanks for reading!