Synposis: It has been 10 years since the demise of Lord Voldemort. Ten years since the Golden Trio broke apart. Hermione went West, to the United States, Harry went East, to Asia, while Ron stayed in England. Now, ten years after everything ended and fell apart, the Trio are called together once more as a new darkness threatens to engulf the world once more. Stronger than ever, they are more than ready to fight again, but can they face the darkness once more? After the cost of the last war, they vowed never to become heroes again, else lose what little they had left. But when the world is truly in need of them, will they rise to the occasion? Or turn away...

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter or anything that JK Rowling has created.

True Darkness

The Beginning

August 15, 2007
Somewhere in California, United States of America

"Hey Bueferd!" cried a large, bald man. A small beard clung haphazardly to his chin and his face was lined with numerous scars.

He stood in the middle of the big stone room. Tables filled the empty space, accompanied by dozens of chairs, but they were all empty save for the large man and Bueferd.

"Bueferd!" cried the man again, his beard waving slightly from the movement of his jaw.

"What?!? What is it, you drunk.?" came the reply of the bartender, shaking his head as he wiped at some glasses with a dirty towel.

"Yeh know... I... well, there be this woman... and.. I been talkin to 'er... but, yeh see... she supposed to be here... 'coz I got something teh say, to 'er, yet she ain't here.." replied the drunk, taking a swig from a large mug in front of him. Half of the beer trickled down from his mouth and onto his beard, which was soaked in it.

"Right.. if you say so," came the unconcerned reply.

"Yeh see... there be strangers come... and they... they being suspicious, yeh know... it be them that set loose them dragons... causin' all these fires and whatnot..." the drunk paused to take another gulp at his drink, "...and... and the reason, yeh see, that them firemen ain't able to... to put them fires out is 'coz... it's dragon fire... and it ain't easy to put that out... without them use of magic," the drunk stood up then, swaying slightly as he stumbled over to the bar.

The bartender looked at him funny as he put down one of the glasses he was trying to clean. "Dragons, you say? I think you've had a lot more drink than you should have, you fool," Bueferd said with a laugh, but it was then that a consistent thumping sound made itself know.

It got louder, to the point that the whole bar was shaking.

Then a roar echoed close by, closely followed by screams and explosions. The ground shook, glasses fell, and the tables and chairs tumbled over. Bueferd and the drunk came to the floor in fear.

The roof suddenly exploded inward as a gigantic ball of fire came crashing down on it. Splinters flew as the fire engulfed everything save for the bar area, which was saved from the worst of the fire.

A large winged beast flew overhead, roaring as jets of flame poured out of its mouth. Another roar answered it as yet another winged beast beat its wings and flew over the town, sending balls of flame hurtling towards the earth. Mushroom explosions flashed everywhere as the fire brightened both earth and sky.

Screams of terror and pain barely penetrated the constant thumping of wings and the crackling of the fires. The loud booming of the explosions were like thunder in a storm, echoing everywhere and overpowering any other sound.

Just as suddenly as it came, the attack ceased. The thumping grew distant and the creatures no longer roared. Smoke darkened the already dark night as the fires burned away the town.

Bueferd coughed. He shifted a little, his mind still in a daze as his eyes watered from the smoke. The heat from the nearby flames made him sweat and stung his skin a little. He tried to move, but a piece of the ceiling had fallen onto his leg, pinning it down. He couldn't feel it, but he knew it must have been injured badly. Blood was everywhere and it was in these moments that he imagined he would be yelling in intense pain, but there was no pain. It was just the smoke, the fire, and his breathing.

He looked around, the walls had collapsed inward when the ceiling came down and he could see the extent of the damage. Almost every house was ablaze, gobbled up entirely by the dancing flames. The fire had already spread to the surrounding brush and was spreading faster towards the horizon. Then the smoke obscured his vision once more and then darkness took him.

Hermione surveyed the scene. The fire was raging out of control, contributing once more to the horrible wildfire epidemic that was sweeping California. The California State Wizarding Council was still debating whether to help the muggles or not.

She scowled at that thought. They were debating over whether or not to help for the overall good? In Hermione's mind, she would've helped them immediately and helped avert all this needless destruction. Thousands of people were being evacuated, all because the magical community in the United States was far more removed from the society of muggles than it was in England.

She derailed that train of thought immediately as memories of her time in England started to come to the forefront. She did not want to deal with that at the moment, she had a job to do. She would have been to the town earlier and, possibly, stopped the crisis before it got out of hand, but she had gotten mixed up with the town names and had gone to the wrong one.

The police were still in the process of cordoning off the area, rolling police tape around traffic cones and barriers. There were a little over a dozen police cruisers and four firetrucks, but the fire had already burned down the town long before they had arrived.

This was no simple arsonist, nor was it an accidental fire. Hermione could practically taste the magic that permeated the air. It was so thick that she could feel it on her skin when she moved.

A swift flick of her wand and she analyzed the magic, something she had learned in her days back in England. She shook her head again, this was no time to reminisce about the old days.

She was there on an official investigation for the CSWC, something that they didn't really need much deliberating about. She had practically forced them to do it, her words harsh and angry. The Council was made of really old wizards who, in Hermione's opinion, should not have been elected to the position of power and leadership. They resented her presence in California, but they needed her because she was an extremely capable witch, truly one of the brightest in her age.

Her scanning finished a half an hour later as she walked through the rubble, analyzing everything and anything, from stone to ash to debris. It was then that a cold feeling settled inside her and fear crept slightly into her mind. This wasn't the work of regular wizards. Her analyses led to only one plausible culprit: dragons.

Two of them, possibly. One stronger and older than the other. Yet it wasn't any kind of dragon she was aware of. Every magical being who used magic had a distinct magical aura, specifically for each type of creature. Humans had a common framework for their magical signatures, which varied only in the specifics. Other creatures did too, and this most definitely screamed the work of dragons.

She bit her lower lip as she pushed back a lock of brown hair behind her ear, concentrating hard on what this all could mean. A species of dragon never before seen or heard of? Perhaps a cross-breed? But that was deemed improbably since dragons only mated with their own species, never intermingling with the others. In fact, if left together, they would fight each other until one killed the other and so would be superior.

There was another theory, though, more plausible than the first one. It was possible that a species of dragon long thought to be extinct has been recovered and revived. That would explain the unknown magical signature, but it didn't explain the motive. Why set them loose upon the world? Perhaps it was an accident? Yet if it was, it would have been reported already.

Her mind continued as she paced inside a ruined building, some of the walls still lay intact and hid her from the police. It was then that something the police were saying floated through the air and into her ear very clearly.

"... a survivor..." said one of them.

Hermione looked up and turned, her chocolate brown eyes wide as her mind churned again. A survivor would have memories, first-hand data. She needed to get to the survivor somehow, and fast. Something within her told her that something bad was happening, something really bad.

Just outside Devon, England

Ron apparated into his house, which was more of an estate really. It was large, nearly half as big as Hogwarts and about half as tall. There were more than forty rooms, most of them bedrooms, but they were rarely filled. It was only when he threw a large party that most of the rooms were used, but even then that didn't account for the secret rooms he had built or for the underground part of his home.

All of this, of course, came from his astonishing career with the Chudley Cannons. He was "King Weasley" or "Goalie-God" to the thousands of fans that now knew his entire life by heart. He was the pride of the Cannons, the secret weapon that had led to their victory in the English League for the eighth time in a row. He had also helped them to win the World Cup twice, in 2002 and 2006. The MVP awards from both of the Quidditch World Cups gleamed brightly in his trophy room, which was only filled about a quarter.

Sighing, he started to strip his clothes off. His six-foot-five muscular frame soon stood naked as the large jacuzzi-bathtub filled up quickly. Mutliple faucets spewing out different colored liquids, which all mixed in the tub. He stepped into the nice hot bath, bubbles floating everywhere, and sat down, relaxing almost immediately.

The tub was encased in a glass stall, which kept the heat in and allowed for steam to remain inside, giving a sauna-esque feel. This was the life he had always wanted to live, but he had always imagined sharing it with his two best friends. This caused him to frown all of a sudden as he shifted slightly in the tub.

It has been nearly ten years since he had last seen them. Ten years without any contact from either of them, two of the people who he had considered, and still do consider, to be his family. He took some time to imagine what they were doing, wherever they were.

Perhaps Hermione was reading deeply into an ancient tome of some sort on some obscure piece of magical history, trying to uncover the secrets of magic or something of the sort. Harry was probably out trying to live a simple life, either that or he was in the thick of things, fighting for the good of all and being his usual selfless self. Yet he hadn't heard anything at all about them. Well, not exactly anyway.

He had heard some rumors that Hermione was in the West Coast of the United States, doing some magical government work of some sort. Harry, on the other hand, he had heard nothing about. Not even a single rumor, though there used to be a lot. After the third year or so, his name was pushed back to the third, fourth, then last page of the papers, eventually disappearing as the public lost interest.

Well, wherever the bloke was, Ron was sure that he was having fun.

Somewhere in Tibet...

Harry stood still, his muscles not moving the slightest bit. Even his breathing was so shallow that he moved scarcely a millimeter each time. He was in the final stages of his training, the training that was supposed to have been finished with Dumbledore, had he not... Harry stopped thinking of him. It only brought back bitter and sad memories that he had long ago learned to repress.

A wall of steel surrounded his mind and also divided it, keeping the darker memories in a small space of his mind, away from everything else. The monks and masters that he had met and learned from had taught him so much more than he could have hoped for. Dumbledore's diary and letter to him had advised he travel East, where magic was different than from the West.

He also learned more about disciplining and honing his body, which he learned was essential to not only keeping healthy but also to maximizing magical potential. A sound mind and body could control and channel more magic than one that was not. He breathed in the cool, fresh air of the mountains, the cold not affecting him as his barriers and wards kept the bite of the wind at bay.

The warming wards that kept the small area at a reasonable temperature also helped in that manner. Harry turned to his dinner, which he caught instead of conjured, without magic no less. He had mastered many weapons, one of which was the bow, and he had learned to move silently and swiftly anywhere. He ate in silence, not having spoken to anyway in the past month. In fact, there was no one on the mountain save him at the moment, which was why he was there.

He needed to get in touch with magic on a closer level and, being in the bustle of society made that impossible. Once his attunement with magic was achieved, he would be far more powerful than before. After all, magic was a channeling and controlling of energy, and what better way to do so than to get to know magic on a more base level, make it more natural and more flowing.

He had learned over the years that many wizards, especially in the West, wrestled magic and forced it to do what they wanted. It was a rough method, but it worked. It did, however, hinder them from using magic to their full potential and it also resulted in a lot of wasted energy, but it did not matter. If it works, they would use it no matter what.

He heard a slight rustle in the trees behind him and his senses went into overdrive. It was an animal of some sort and in a few seconds his magic extended outwards and he sensed that it was an eagle. It had perched on a low branch and dislodged some of the leaves from it, causing the slight noise that he heard. What piqued his curiosity, however, was the fact that the eagle had a certain magical aura, which was being masked.

Harry continued eating, fully aware that he was being watched by this eagle, or in truth, some wizard or witch. He would find out soon enough, but first he would play along and see where this went. He was also very hungry, after all.

Elsewhere...

"All is well, my Lord. They are getting bigger and stronger as the days pass. Your legions are forming as we speak and all goes as planned," reported the large figure dressed in black robes.

The room was made of obsidian and the darkness was overwhelming save for the slight flickering light from the lone torch in the middle of the circular room, at the end of which was a large obsidian throne. The figure could not see who he was talking to, but he knew who it was and he knew what it could do and so had no need to see it. After all, no one had seen it and lived to tell the tale.

"Your thoughts stray yet again, Salisco. Soon, perhaps, I will reveal myself to all... but it is not time for that yet, no. Not until the plan is well underway," came the reply, the voice was somewhat alien, as if not natural.

The figure bowed, though he wondered if the being on the throne saw him do so. Even with the torch, the room was still incredibly dark. He could barely see around him and wondered if there was anything else in the room, but then thought of other things. He would be told everything he needed to know, anything else was not his business.

"Good, you will learn that well in the coming months. Now, tell me all that I have missed for all this long years. I have been asleep for far too long, it seems," commanded the being.

AN: And that's the start! Tell me what you think.