I don't own Harry Potter or any recognizable characters. Quoting what I've read in other people's disclaimers, I'm just playing in J.K.R.'s sandbox and will return her property unscathed. Oh, and naturally not making any profit from writing either, it's a hobby. A pastime. You know, something fun and hopefully enjoyable for others besides me, for free. Except for your Internet connection monthly charge, that's you the reader's responsibility.

Unspoken Destiny

Chapter 1 (and only so far): Sheer Dumb Luck

Holocaust. That was the word he couldn't remember after more than fifteen minutes of trying. He was sure it would've eventually come to him, but it kept nagging him for the rest of the day, until it popped up while peeing on the poisoned stream the Infiltration Platoon belonging to the freedom fighters known as Founders' Fury were resting by.

"Dursley! Wards ahead!" came the voice of his platoon section's corporal. "Move yer lazy arse over there!"

Harry Dursley had been drafted at thirty-one years of age, told he was a wizard, given a secure place to sleep, food to eat, a wand to carry and a six month training regime that condensed what would've been a seven years long wizard schooling plus three years of Auror training. Needless to say, his drafted colleagues and him learned nothing beyond shields and the most popular of all offensive magical spells.

The reason why he was the only surviving member of that group six years later was his own personal drive to learn, and a healthy dose of what everyone always called sheer dumb luck on his part.

"Private Dursley, I need you to help Jones and Takawashi bring down these bone-shattering defences," ordered Lieutenant Longbottom.

He liked Lt Longbottom, he was always polite and generous in his explanations, while at the same time forceful and commanding. Not to mention brave, having witnessed him in action against dark wizards and hordes of insane Muggles several times through the years.

The Founders' Fury had become the first and last hope for a civilized world, one where both magical people and Muggles can flourish again. Once the Dark Lord was defeated, they could target his supporters known as Death Eaters, and then put an end to the wars among Muggles by controlling their leadership for their own good.

That was the part Harry didn't like. Cleaning up the contaminated lands? Great! Releasing the Muggle governments from the Dark Lord's influence? Sure. But blatantly enslaving them for the greater good was something he couldn't stomach. Why not show them there's a huge part of the human population that can do magic? In fact, it was likely that if his family had grown around magic in the first place, they'd never have been so hateful towards him until he stopped doing so-called unnatural things.

Sometimes, however, that unnaturalness was worth it. Witches and wizards were the only humans able to brave the radioactive fallout, unaffected because of the magic in their bodies, and the reason Harry had survived the London Blast of 1998 while his aunt and uncle had died within the week. His cousin Dudley was in London that day, and just like him, millions of Muggles worldwide died from the blasts and later from radioactive poisoning while millions more have descended into barbarism, fighting for a spot of uncontaminated land to farm, or simply resorting to cannibalism.

The few organized nations that relocated and found usable resources kept warring and throwing bombs at each other, thus destroying even more of this already devastated planet.

It was a true holocaust, and he ached to end it, helping in any way he could. The day a dozen people popped out of thin air around him while running away from a mob of zombies was the day his fate turned. Sure, they didn't even ask whether he wanted to be told the truth about his magical nature and help destroy the true cause of the war, but he'd eventually accepted it.

"Hey, Dursley, do something against the selective ward, would you? I can't sense it right and the hexing wards are layered through it."

Harry had an uncanny affinity towards high-powered or extremely difficult magical spells and magical constructs, while at the same time being bollocks at everyday magic. It was something that always made people laugh, although he really didn't enjoy the banter himself.

"Sure," he answered and began waving and chanting. After a few seconds he began to sweat and swirl his wand higher and higher, incanting long strings of words in a foreign language.

Takawashi started and gasped, following Harry along with another chant and drawing what looked like Kanji symbols in his native Japanese tongue with the tip of his finger over rice paper, and sparking a fire with a flick of his wrist.

Nobody ever understood what Takawashi says, but he was good in battle and could cover his section's asses with the nastiest shields anyone had ever seen, shields that actually returned the compliment to the attackers, letting them taste some of their own spells. Truth be told, Infiltration witches and wizards had become a mixture of magical cultures from around the globe, over time representing more nations and kingdoms than the old I.C.W., people able to fight their way into enemy territory with unmatched versatility.

Once in, all they had to do was hold for the Sorceress and her platoons to butt in and rip enemy throats out. Sometimes quite literally.

While Takawashi continued to write and burn slips of rice paper, and pour smelly powders on the open flame, Harry was struggling with the wards. "There's more than the bone-breaker, Sir!" he explained out loud to his lieutenant. "I've found four more hexes weaved into the ward that allows the Dees to cross over."

"Can you break them, private?" asked Longbottom.

"Aye aye, Sir!"

"You have five minutes," he said and turned to issue orders for the infiltration.

Jones kept watching Harry and whistled in appreciation, sparing a glance at the Japanese kid who kept chanting and burning stuff. The problem with layered wards is that they have to be attacked in a specific order, and the problem with weaved wards is that not only must they be attacked in a specific order, but the ward you're taking down regenerates by leeching power from the others.

After what felt like an hour, and with barely seconds to spare, Harry and Takawashi managed to overpower the weaved scheme and create an exception bubble about ten yards wide. Lieutenant Longbottom smiled at the Japanese wizard and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, and then sent them back to their respective section corporals for standing orders.

Not in a position to learn information about their missions beforehand, Harry gasped at their objective after cresting a gentle slope of wild terrain. The palace-like complex was huge, standing in the middle of more utilitarian buildings and circled by evenly spaced stone menhirs he was sure would sprout legs and arms as soon as they step close. Golems that size would be a bitch to blow apart.

The sun would be rising behind the Infiltration Platoon soon, and he had to admire the strategy of initiating an attack downhill with the morning light behind them, although he'd be calmer if the Sorcerers had already arrived. If Harry liked Lt Longbottom and his skills, watching the High Sorceress in action with her core Sorcerers was pure bliss. He'd only had one opportunity to contemplate her power and, to be frank, she was awing beauty in motion.

Today he would have a second chance, if he didn't die first or were busy engaged in battle. His thoughts were interrupted when a translucent globe flew in front of him with a colour scheme that meant 'charge on command' before running in front of everyone else and vanishing.

He double-checked for his holy and unicorn hair wand, tightened his belt and looked around. Solomillo the Spaniard was picking his crooked teeth with the pointed tip of a blade, the German sisters had a look of orgasmic anticipation and were twirling their strange spiralled wands, while Kieffer Jones to his right was as relaxed as a sloth on a tree.

Rustling sounds coming from the section's left made them turn and watch Lt Longbottom leading a reinforced section around them. An order was issued to Corporal Brown and he approached Harry in a crouch. "Yer with the lieutenant, Dursley. Get the fuck outta here!"

"Aye Sir. Good luck!" he replied in a whisper.

Longbottom's group would be the diversionary attackers, drawing the Dees' defences to the other side of where the real attack would come from, five minutes before sunrise. They assembled behind a copse of trees and their orders were short and simple: be loud, kill as many Dees as you can, and get out alive.

"Go!" whispered their lieutenant and they scrambled out of the woods, killing three apparently Muggle sentinels and vaporising another. Harry gathered his concentration and pulled magic from under his skin, making every hair stand up, before swishing and jabbing forward with a whispered incantation.

"Terraemotus" he cast and the path ahead of him began to rumble and raise, sending shockwaves forward, tumbling a pair of active golems and cracking one of the polygonal buildings right down the middle.

Another golem exploded to their right from Lt Longbottom's blasting hex and they ran forward another fifty yards, batting and shielding hexes and curses. Many ordinary Death Eaters in black cloaks but without masks poured out of the buildings, probably fifty or more, effectively abandoning the eastern side of the complex.

"Arrow formation, now!" commanded Longbottom. The thirty-three fighters began squeezing themselves together by pairs in a line behind him, forming a very narrow target for their attackers and creating a series of superimposed shields that kept them all safe while gaining another hundred yards into enemy terrain.

Once close enough, the lieutenant ordered a tilt and the tail of their arrow began folding to the right, every pair of fighters casting their nastiest and most powerful curses at the Dees. "Keep folding! Pin them back against the palace!"

While the diversionary section attacked the western side of the Malfoy Estate, the main attacking force of the Fury assembled themselves just below line of sight, waiting for the right moment. The Sorcerers had arrived and taken point, a position many fighters always tried to disavow of them, since loosing their leadership and command would be disastrous, but they still did it anyway.

Hotuiti Teave was dancing with Huatare Manu, both ferocious wizards coming from different islands but with common Polynesian ancestry. Their battle dance was aimed at the Dees beyond the slope and kept getting wilder, spreading a feeling of invincibility over them all. Behind them stood General Flitwick, the odd goblin-human mixed race wizard, always ready for battle despite his missing left arm, flanked by Smith, Broadfoot and Matarazzo, the North American Grand Magi that came to put an end to Lord Voldemort a decade ago but agreed it was impossible to do it by themselves after the fifth failed assassination attempt.

Over the hill, under invisibility cloaks, stood General McGonagall and High Sorceress Granger. Whereas the first was imposing and commanded respect, the latter was downright scary, frightening even, when she bore into one's soul with a stare. The two witches tracked the diversionary attack and smiled when only a group of ten Dees remained on this side of the complex. More positive even was the fact that half the defensive golems were engaging the attacking fighters.

The sun finally shone over their backs and Granger removed her cloak, nodding at McGonagall who sounded the phoenix trill, signalling the order to engage.

"Fury!" yelled two hundred voices at once, running downhill with magically enhanced legs, blowing up standing stones before they even started to form limbs. The Death Eaters seemed to have sounded the alarm but none of their hexes and curses even grazed a fighter, because they couldn't properly aim against the sun.

After a couple of minutes another two dozen Dees arrived and a pair of white masks could be seen among them. Those were promptly targeted by the Sorcerers who detached themselves from the main body and began duelling them, forcing the snarling Dees into the palace through an already destroyed french door.

Eight against two odds were levelled back in favour of the enemy after five more White Dees jumped into the fray, throwing Killing Curses left and right, most of which were intercepted with conjured marble slabs and gravestones. The Sorcerers scattered in different directions, confusing the enemy for a few seconds, long enough for Granger to aim a couple of blasters against two white masks, downing them permanently.

"I'll kill you for that, Granger!" snarled a tall White Dee while throwing another Killing Curse.

"Such familiarity," the High Sorceress replied, "do I know you, by any chance?"

"Aaargh! Die, filthy mudblood!"

Granger rounded a corner and flashed to the end of the corridor, a technique that made the body accelerate to impossible speeds using a burst of magic; unfortunately the energy required to do it would exhaust a normal wizard. She turned and then weaved a criss-crossing net of slicing beams.

The White Dee ran pointing his or her wand, it was difficult to tell with the black hooded cloaks, and gurgled something while being diced to pieces. Granger accioed the wand and, upon hearing shouts, exploded her way across the wall to find a large dining room where Teave was fighting two white masked wizards at the same time.

Making a traditional war-face of wide-open eyes and showing his entire tongue with an open mouth, the sorcerer from Rapa Nui waved his sceptre and attacked one of his enemies with a conjured blob of molten rock, which was batted away to a wall, starting yet another fire in the palace. Granger dodged a couple of curses and transfigured the wide picture windows of the room into a flock of glass vultures, commanding them to attack the black robed White Dees.

Screeching an ear-piercing trill, the transparent birds began biting and tearing at the Death Eaters, distracting them enough for Teave and Granger to capture and banish them towards the rendezvous point for extraction.

"Much thanks, Lady Granger," Teave said with a flourish, obviously making good fun of the British wizarding customs.

Granger snorted and said "You'd have beaten them anyway, though it's much more advantageous to capture them alive." She then approached the windows to track the battlefield and winced at the carnage. It seemed they not only had golems but Inferi as well, and it took three wizards to defeat each of the creatures, all the while dodging and aiming curses from and at the Dees

She signalled Teave to follow her and they reached the atrium of the palace, where they met Flitwick duelling a naked Death Eater whose only article of clothing was the charmed white mask. The general seemed to be having fun and finished the Dee by slicing his legs below the knees, the main portion of his body falling down the main staircases while the feet and lower legs stayed planted firmly on the landing.

"Matarazzo lost a leg and Minnie got her whiskers singed but is scouting the rest of the palace," informed Flitwick before restraining the naked wizard and banishing him towards the planned extraction area.

"Good, let's find Big V," Granger replied while planting the annihilating crystals. They would detonate under a whispered command by either McGonagall, Flitwick or herself, and hopefully vaporize Voldemort along with everything and everyone in a mile wide radius as a last resource.

Flitwick relayed orders for the Sorcerers to regroup and soon a series a blurs sped up towards the main doors, including a tabby cat that turned into McGonagall yelling "He's outside!"

"Go!" was the only word needed, and Granger led the group at inhuman speed, slashing the bumbling Inferi along the way.

They found Lord Voldemort clad in fine silver robes slashing his wand around, slicing, burning and swiftly killing fighters with a demonic glee on his face. Granger had seldom seen the Dark Lord in person before, and certainly never this close. Her last glimpse of him was perhaps seven or eight years ago, when the Founders' Fury fought in a failed takeover of Azkaban, believing that Voldemort had destroyed the Dementors much like he had killed the giants, trolls, vampires and werewolves over the years. Of all other intelligent magical species, house-elves were extinct and goblins were believed to be either dead or hiding deep below the surface. The last of the centaurs had been killed in a raid four months ago.

The extinction of the centaurs caused the Leadership, a Triumvirate formed by the High Sorceress, the Lead Unspeakable and the Chief Warlock, to finally agree on a frontal attack against the evil Dark Lord before he destroys the entire planet in his insanity.

Granger and the rest of the Sorcerers made their way forward, seven powerful witches and wizards squashing reanimated dead bodies with a gesture of their wands, sceptres or hands, blowing huge golems apart with powerful blasting hexes and using the debris to attack the Dark Lord.

Harry was right, he'd be able to witness the High Sorceress in person one more time. He punched another Inferi and ducked from a sickly purple curse, throwing back an entrails-expelling curse of his own. The Dee screamed and fell flat on his face, giving him time to watch the Sorcerors making their way up to Voldemort.

A big stone golem tried to kick Granger but she evaded the foot with a simple arching of her back, then blew it to smithereens with a flick of her wrist. She twirled her wand and collected all the rock fragments, creating a big granite ball which she threw against a group of Dees and golems with a repulso spell.

Yet another Dee tried to curse her but she batted the magic away, crouching and disarming the opponent. Harry watched fascinated as she chained the Dee and pulled him towards her, swinging once, twice and then releasing the screaming wizard at Voldemort, who jabbed his wand and incinerated the human cannonball.

"Lord Voldemort!" the sorceress called. "By mandate of the legitimate Magical Government in Britain, I order you to stand down and face charges before the Wizengamot for your crimes!"

The evil wizard seemed to be evaluating Granger, his eyes roamed over the golden griffin on her chest, the expert grip of the wand in her hand, and settled over the gleaming sword she had drawn from a scabbard under her red robes.

"You must be Granger, the unfortunate exception to the rule," Voldemort spoke. "So much power in undeserving filthy hands..."

A moment of unnatural stillness roamed the battlefield at that point, Death Eaters and Founders' Fury soldiers eyeing each other and their respective leader at the same time. Even the golems seemed to have paused, but the Inferi, already affected by the morning sun, were still trying to choke people to death.

Holding a rotten corpse back with his left hand on its face while it extended its arms forward trying to grab his neck, Harry saw the Dark Lord twitch and two powerful magics collided, sending a concussive wave that threw everyone a couple of steps back.

Voldemort twitched again and a spear of black fire zoomed at Granger, but she drowned it in lightning coming from her wand. Baring teeth at each other, they flashed forward and clashed steel against steel while fighters and Dees engaged one another again, reigniting the fight.

Smith, Flitwick, Manu, McGonagall, Broadfoot and Teave flashed forward as well, using their last magic to attack and end the misery of this world. They punctured and slashed with cold steel but the Dark Lord was possessed, laughing in a whirlwind of inhuman speed as he slashed with his bloodied scimitar while allowing the goblin crafted weapons of the Sorcerers to bite.

"Nor steel nor magic shall ever bring me down! I am Lord Voldemort and my power reigns supreme!" the insane wizard yelled and, to the Sorcerers immense shock, took flight above them.

Flight! The wizard literally flew, by his own power. Unnatural, even within the convoluted ways of magic.

"Damn it!" Granger snarled, empowering her own legs to follow after him with a high altitude jump. She surprised Voldemort in turn and, in that fraction of a second, was able to blast him to the ground, where fell spread-eagled and quite furious, if the black aura and shining red eyes were any indication.

The six landlocked remaining Sorcerers shot from eviscerating hexes to an attempt at human transfiguration from man to fish, but despite the open belly and the already scaly skin, Voldemort fought the transfiguration and healed himself quickly just like he did under their sword attacks earlier. The man was a monster.

"You will pay for this," he growled and cursed the nearest wizard, General Flitwick. "Crucio!"

Like all Unforgivables, the Cruciatus required complete focus on a single opponent, which was not the best strategy in real battle. Voldemort might be the most powerful creature the Sorcerers had ever seen, but he was still only one while they were many.

Granger plummeted to the ground and cursed the Dark Lord from above before landing on his back with her knees, cutting the Unforgivable Curse and releasing the general. The rest began transfiguring the ground into a dome of iron, encasing the madman within after Granger flashed away.

She stood closest to the dome, visibly hoping the cage would hold, but fell to melting hot shrapnel and a powerful concussion hex as Voldemort released himself from the impromptu prison with a booming blast. Her unconscious body fell a few yards from where Harry was making a stand against two Dees, and the distraction proved enough for him to decapitate one and chain the other.

"Ennervate!" he cast and then uncorked an Invigorating Draught from his emergency healing kit, tilting it inside her open mouth.

The woman coughed and gasped, her dark brown eyes focused and shone in an amazing display of willpower. Harry staggered back and Granger flashed away in a blur. "Bloody effin' hell! I've got to learn to do that," he said and whistled, before turning to stun the chained Death Eater again.

Watching the blur of red and brown rejoin the fight and slice Voldemort on the side with a sword Harry wished he could do something to help, but he knew that at the level of combat magic he could perform he'd be more of a liability than anything else. He gulped dryly when he saw the monster had completely healed the slash wound in mere seconds. The Dark Lord looked human enough, but as close as he was to him, he could see the shining red eyes and his deformed visage, probably the result of so many rituals and harmful magic.

Suddenly the Sorcerers and Voldemort turned into a blur again, the sound of hundreds of spells and curses was deafening, and he was jolted out of his trance by Brown, his section's corporal. "Oy, wake up Dursley! We've gotta stand the line at rally point!"

"Aye Sir... Are you watching this?" Harry asked without really thinking about it. He didn't mean any disrespect to his corporal but the display of power was appealing to him at a higher level, almost as if he was longing for it. Would he ever be able to have that much control over magic? Unfortunately magical people weren't born equal in terms of power and potential, but he would never know if didn't try in the first place, right?

A huge explosion sent a body flying past him to land with a sickening crunch against a tree, and Brown was first to get to him. Ernest Smith, the American Grand Magus was dead.

"Shit, watch out!" Harry yelled when the fighting began careening towards them. They saw General McGonagall transfiguring lion after lion from the stone fragments of former golems, only to have them killed by Voldemort while at the same sparring against Broadfoot, Granger and the Polynesians.

The Sorcerers had flying marble slabs around them ready to defend against the Killing Curse and were using them expertly, while the Dark Lord seemed to be increasingly more maniacal and insane, but never less dangerous. The fighters became blurred again in a whirlwind of colours until Harry found himself pinned to a tree by an inhuman arm bleeding black blood.

"Let's see how you deal with blood on your hands, my dear... Surrender to me or I kill the weakling!"

Harry's life actually flashed before his eyes, he knew he was dead, there was no mistaking it. The High Sorceress was never going to surrender to Voldemort by threatening a simple private, and he actually agreed with her. The monster had a hand around his neck and his wand pointed at his forehead, and all he could see was the green light coming from its tip. So much for sheer dumb luck.

"Bombarda!"

"Avada kedavra!"

BOOM!

Notes:
So, this an idea for a world where Trelawney never arrived for her job interview with Dumbledore, therefore the prophecy was made to someone else or perhaps uttered in the middle of nowhere, without witnesses at all. Voldemort sent his Death Eaters to kill the Potters and Longbottoms as a routine assignment in '81 but the babies survived, probably because Aurors arrived on scene, the fight against simple D.E.s instead of Voldemort would have been much longer.
Voldemort conquered Hogwarts in '89, defeating Dumbledore and Harry Potter never received a Hogwarts Letter, going to Stonewall instead, and being formally adopted by the Dursleys a couple of years later.
In '98 Voldemort orchestrated a nuclear war by using the Imperius Curse on Muggle leaders, attacking all the major capitals of the world, including London of course, and Harry survives fourteen years by himself, until he's recruited by the Founders' Fury.