Prologue

Voldemort was dead to begin with.

There was no fanfare. No huge celebrations or parades. His death was the same as any other man's, though with fewer mourners no doubt.

It wasn't perfect, it wasn't a fairytale. In fairytales, the hero always triumphs over the bad guys, gets the girl, and lives happily ever after.

But this war ....... was dark. And the time after the Dark Lord fell was darker still.

There were few heroes left. The war scarred victims of the Light Side were intermingled with the war scarred victims of the Dark.

Albus Dumbledore was dead, too. The Ministry was gone. There was no one in control.

And there was chaos, in the Muggle and Wizarding worlds alike (though there was nothing separating them anymore). The leaders of both side had perished and the rest continued the battle for dominance.

And stuck in the middle of all was Harry Potter.

He had fulfilled the Prophecy, his destiny. It had taken years and sacrifices and hardships. But he still could not have his peace.

The old Death Eaters targeted him, figuring they could get one more threat out of the way.

So he disappeared into the backdrop.