-slides in- Eyyy, back at it again with yet another WIP long-fic.

Like always, no beta so all mistakes are mine.

Prologue: A Violent Daydream

Harry had always known, when he decided to go down the route of toppling the corruption in the British Isles, he wouldn't live long. He had known this, had accepted it, had fucking embraced it. He'd known from day one, when everything was done and over with, that Dumbledore and Voldemort would never let him be free from their ambitions and plots.

One wanted had to use him as a figurehead, to be a puppet to use and discard as they pleased. The other wanted him dead, wanted him to be nothing more than a smear on the floor, after making an example of his death. This, Harry had always known.

And so, he had walked to his death, had walked without fear in his heart. Surrounded by his dead loved ones, he had walked to Voldemort and let the madman kill him. Then, he woke up. Alive. And destroyed Voldemort. For one moment, as Voldemort slowly crumpled into dust, Harry allowed himself to mourn. Mourn for everyone who died that day, for the loss of innocence in the younger students, for the person Tom Riddle could have been, for his own childhood. Then, Harry straighten up and went on with his life.

He quietly finished his schooling, magical and muggle. Helped Andromeda raise Teddy, his only family left. Gently let Ginny down, they couldn't be together, they were both too changed from the War, he couldn't be who she needed and deserved in a partner. Ginny had smiled sadly, she knew it as well.

He became a Healer, became a Teacher. Slowly, Harry healed from the War, from the abuse at the hands of the Dursleys. He avoided the Wizarding World as much as possible and he became used to Quirks again in the muggle world. It amused his greatly, how magicals still thought muggles were still as powerless as they had been at the time the magicals had gone into hiding when they now had Quirks and had abilities beyond what they could comprehend.

Then, days before his birthday, tragedy struck. Andy's health had been slowly declining, her grief of the lost of her beloved husband, her daughter, and son-in-law. It had finally caught up with her. Harry woke up that day, a shiver of cold death creeping up his spine. The Master of Death always knew, even when he tried to deny what had happened to him that fateful day in the Forbidden Forest when he willingly walked to his death and greeted Them like an old friend.

He laid in bed for several minutes, taking in deep breaths, holding for eight seconds then releasing for ten. Keeping the well of emotion tightly reined in. Slowly, got out of bed and made his way to Andy's bedroom door. He stood there, silent, trying desperately to hear the soft sound of her breathing even though he knew. He fucking knew what had happened.

Carefully, Harry opened the door and just stood in the doorway. He ignored the faint silver form hovering next to bed. Instead, he focused on Andy. She looked so peaceful, like a weight had been lifted off her.

"Oh, Andy," he murmured.

"I'm so sorry, Harry." Andy's ghost told him quietly, "But I couldn't hold on anymore. I miss my Ted too much. I know that you'll take care of Teddy like he was your own, so please. Go and live the life you deserve."

Harry fought back tears and nodded in agreement. Andy's ghost smiled beautifully, and slowly, she faded away. At peace that he would fulfill her last wish. And so, Harry went about to give Andromeda her last rights. That night, holding a toddling Teddy in his arms, he lit Andy's funeral pyre in the small hidden backyard of Grimmauld Place. Teddy didn't understand what was going on, how could he being so young. Harry tried his best to explain, but he knew Teddy wouldn't really understand death until he was older.

Then came the hard part: well wishers and the media. Harry lost count of the times he had to grit his teeth and not say anything. Not hex at these false friends who hadn't cared about Andy when she had needed them the most. Not curse the fucking media hounding him, wanting to get the next big scoop over The Great Harry Potter, Man-Who-Conquered. He bit his tongue and kept a harsh rein on his temper, didn't allow himself to mourn the woman who had been his anchor after the War. He couldn't.

Until finally, finally. Weeks after, when he was fed up and finally let his temper loose on everyone who just. wouldn't. stop. pestering. Him.

He stood in the quiet house, Teddy down for a nap, and finally he let himself mourn. He quietly cried the tears he had been holding back since he woke up that day. He sobbed, gross and heart-wrenching, let out all the poison he had been holding in for longer than he wanted to think about.

Sitting on the floor, tired from all the crying, Harry felt as numb as he had been when Sirius had died. But he was no longer a kid, he had never really been allowed to be one in the first place. He stared around Grimmauld, he had never allowed himself to feel at home in Sirius' old prison. He hated it here, he realised. He hated being in this hellhole, he hated how he was treated by the British Conclave, he hated how he felt here. That's it, Harry thought. I'm getting the fuck out of here, Teddy and I deserve to be happy away from this hell.

Wiping his face from the tears, Harry stood up with determination and resolve in his spine. Before she had passed away, Andy had helped him get his Lordships settled with Gringotts and he knew he had many properties around the world. It was only a matter of picking one and getting it ready for habitation again. The Goblins of Gringotts would help him with that, for a price.

And so it was, four years after the end of the British Conclave's Civil War, Harry Potter and his godson, Teddy Lupin-Potter left the British Isles for the first and only time. Their destination?

Musutafu, Japan