Authors Note: I'm sorry that this is so short! Hopefully as I continue to write I will gain some confidence and make the chapters longer. With that in mind I just want to let everyone know that this is my first chaptered fic and so I can't promise anything concerning how often I will update. However, since I read fanfiction and find it very annoying when authors stop writing for months at a time I will promise you that I will update at least once a month, though hopefully sooner. Also, I apologize for any grammatical issues. I was the only one to look over this and I'm not the greatest writer there is. If you see any glaring issues please just send me a review and I will fix it as quickly as possible.

Summary: The Light never won the First War, there was no prophecy, and the Dark Lord Voldemort has declared himself the Emperor of England. Harry Potter is certianly no Chosen One and possesses a mildly troubling gift. How will he fare in this world where death is expressly forbidden and the hierarchy is predominately determined by blood-status?

Disclaimer: Although the plotline was my idea the material used to generate this story is not mine. It belongs to J. K. Rowling. If I were capable of ideas this creative I would be a successfully published author... I am not.

Warnings...I guess?: I just want to let everyone know that I currently do not have a plan regarding relationships in this story, so if that's what you're looking for...than that is unfortunate. I may change my mind later, but we'll see.

Chapter One

"Death gives us sleep, eternal youth, and immortality." - Jean Paul

The field had been carefully chosen. It was flat for the most part, but rose almost unnoticably towards the forest at one end. Across the flatest and lowest lying areas a number of bonfires had been lit so that now, with the setting sun lying just above the treeline, it almost seemed as though the field were a lake of fire. At the far end, shaded by the trees and raised slightly be the slope of the hill, was a long banquet table adorned with gilded candelabra's and golden tableware which caught the light. Just as the sun disappeared, fully hidden by the trees, a man in crimson robes rose from his seat at the center of the table

The Emperor stood, looking down at his carefully chosen mass of spectators and raised his arms outward and upward in a fashion that would seem maudlin if done by any other man. In the shifting lights of the many bonfires his features, high cheekbones and red eyes and hair lightened by strands of gray, made him look like a demon summoned by its fearful worshippers. Perhaps, in some ways, he was.

Everyone gathered in the lower field fell silent at his gesture and as his arms came to rest by his sides all movement stilled. Even the flames seemed to cease flickering.

"Citizens of England, the time has come for us to rise up and face death itself once again. On this night, All Hallow's Eve, we have come together to raise our voices against this force once considered so sure and inevitable." The Emperor's voice easily carried over the crackling of the massive bonfires. It cut through the heat of the flames and they seemed to animate with every changing inflection.

"We are here to assert our own power, to assert our dominance over this last true enemy. We will not be cowed and we will not be beaten. We will no longer be chased and hunted by death. Instead it will be we who are the hunt it into extinction!" Here he leaned forward as if to engage his invisible foe and the people below him seemed to hold their collective breath.

"Once it was believed that even we, with our magic which so often dominates nature, could not destroy this one element which threatens the very existence of every creature on this earth. However, I stand before you as evidence for our superiority. I cannot die. I will not die. And as long as I sit upon the throne of this nation you too will not die!" He shouted, his face lit eerily by the fire and his features adamant. The crowd began to shout and cheer.

"Immortality! Not simply for the wealthy or the powerful, but for every one who draws breath. May you all draw breath forevermore!"

The crowd began to get rowdier and a few began to light torches raising them in the air and shouting, "Death to death! Immortality for all!"

As the crowd began to dissolve into raucous shouts, laughter, and calls for ale and flame the Emperor hid a sardonic smile and took his seat. When he was seated the man to his right lifted his wine glass, held gently between aristocratic fingers.

"I do believe you've managed to excite the masses more than usual, my Lord," the man said smirking over the rim of the glass.

The Emperor turned to the man, his red eyes slitted slightly with condescending amusement, "It would appear so Lucius. One can only hope they don't get too out of hand. I would hate to have an incident as bothersome as last year's."

The blonde allowed his lip to curl further, "Yes. I suppose it is rather bothersome when someone dies during a ceremony to commemorate the annihilation of death."

"Quite."


Two figures walked hand-in-hand along the cobblestone lane leading to the cemetary of Godric's Hollow. It was growing dark and though the sounds of celebration could be heard faintly in the street they did nothing to lessen the chill of the autumn wind. As the figures passed through the gates of the cemetary the wind gently blew past them and kicked up leaves in their wake.

"It's just up here Harry," Madam Lerman said carefully leading her charge off the path and towards one of the smooth marble headstones. "Be careful where you step. The ground is still wet around here."

When they reached the stone she let go of his hand and took a step back. "There you go. Just like I promised."

Harry Potter stood before his parents' grave and thought that it looked very pretty in the dark. It was made of white marble and though it seemed neglected it still shone like a moon against the darkening sky. The boy stepped forward and reached toward the headstone, carefully tracing the names and dates written there. Softly he murmured the words that had been chiseled in flowing script near the base, "The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death."

Death, the last enemy, the strongest and most incurable of diseases, Harry had heard it called all of these names and more which was hardly surprising considering where he lived. This was England, the home of the Great Emperor, the only man to ever best death itself. Death was not allowed to touch this land or to exercise any of the dominion that it held over the rest of the world.

However, no matter how powerful the Emperor was he couldn't annihilate death entirely, Harry was sure of that. It didn't matter that today was Halloween, the day when everyone in the country gathered in pubs or around the dinner table or wherever else they chose to commemorate the rise of the Emperor and the annihilation of death itself. Today was also the anniversary of the day when the Emperor, once the Dark Lord Voldemort, came to a small house in Godric's Hollow in the dead of night and murdered James and Lily Potter.