Start-Over

by FrustratedReader88

Harry Potter cares for his family, but he could care less if the world burned around them. In fact if it keeps his makeshift family safe, he would light it with a match. In a world where children are soldiers and his family is even less safe than before, he will have to crave out a place for them in the Hidden Continent. (AN: this is my first story, please be nice)

Start-Over: Prologue

WARNING: GORE, GENOCIDE, and GRAPHIC VIOLENCE

AN: I own nothing here except the poem in the prolog and my sadistic mind. Also this is my very first story so please let me know what you think of it, and please be nice. I promise my writing will hopefully get better.

Please Read: if you are one of those readers that dislike lengthy prologues (like my sister), then you can skip this, BUT please read the summary of the prologue at the end of the chapter.

I've never seen an angel

Nor the pearly gates,

I've never heard St. Peter's voice

Or forgiven those I hate.

After the death of the Dark Lord Voldemort at the hands of Harry Potter, The-Man-Who-Conquered, life in Wizarding Britain was quick to return to normality. The dark sectors were once again persecuted to an obsessive degree, wizarding kind was oblivious to muggle ongoings, Death Eaters were quick to either slither out of trouble as gold exchanged hands or were unceremoniously thrown into Azkaban, and The-Man-Who-Conquered was lauded as their savior.

Yet changes were underway as well. All non-human species were declared dark, including Veela and house-elves. Muggleborns rose to prominent positions in the society and government. The Pureblood families were decimated, by death during the war or in the raids and arrests that followed. The-Man-Who-Conquered had become all but a recluse, never straying far or long from whichever fortified Potter or Black home he had taken temporary residence in with his half-breed godson. The other two member of the Golden Trio married and had two children. Hermione Weasley nee Granger revolutionized the judicial system so that the judge and jury were peers rather than the previous Lords and Ladies of Wizengamot. Mrs. Granger-Weasley became the first barrister of the new court. Her husband Ronald Weasley quickly made his made to Head of the Aurors Department.

Regardless of these changes, life for the majority was naught but content. True the world needed to rebuild many homes and livelihoods and to mourn lives lost in the war, but swept up in the euphoria of the death of the Dark Lord, these things passed quickly for all but a select few.

George Weasley never moved past his twin's death in the Final Battle. Luna Longbottom nee Lovegood blossomed as a seer and swiftly moved to prepare for the future. Lord Neville Longbottom of the Ancient House of Longbottom focused his future on his loyalties to his wife and their dearest friends. And, Lord Harry Potter-Black of the Ancient and Noble House of Black and the Noble House of Potter raised his godson in as much privacy as he could find. His solitude was broken only by his godson, secretly travelling the world over, and three visitors in the form of the the only people to always know where he was: George Weasley, and Luna and Neville Longbottom.

I've never felt the fires

Nor seen the brimstone rain,

I've never smelt the sulfur

Or suffered sinner's pain.

The greatest change following the death of the Dark Lord was an unexpected consequence of the war, one which the wizarding world did not feel until four years after the fact.

The Wizarding World Had Been Exposed To The Muggles

No gossip rag, newspaper, politician, or seer had warned them. In the rush of the war and the celebrations after, the ignorance and arrogance of the wizards foiled their own Statute of Secrecy. Gas explosions and terrorists attacks were unveiled. Magic was captured on film. Wizarding warfare was witnessed by the masses. It started in Britain then spread like an epidemic. The world knew, the world searched, and the world stayed silent. Magic and fear were discussed in backrooms by families, politicians, and generals. Plans were made and the collective wizarding world was oblivious. It was as if Gaia held her breath.

And then … the first bomb dropped … where it all began.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

was reduced to rubble and flesh and blood and the dying screams of children.

To stand on the school grounds even days after was to smell to coppery stench of blood on the back of your tongue. Decaying flesh strewn amongst the ruins and rubble and in the shattered landscape smelt revolting, sickly sweeting and rotting. The ground was stained russet. It flaked on the stone and soaked into wood and soil. It dragged in long smears, ran in small streams, and marked last breathes. There remained pools of crimson liquid in cracks and craters. No tower or stairway was left standing. Neither the Room of Requirement nor Chamber of Secrets were spared. The Dungeons were caved in and the Great Hall was gone.

This scene was repeated time and time again wherever the muggles found an area where magicals might congregate. Magical blood was spilt by the kiloliters. And it ran red. Wizards, witches, and creatures dieds by the thousands. Bombs were dropped until the muggles were threatened by their own radiation. Then came the guns and tanks and planes, and all other machines of warfare.

Many muggles died in this crusade. Lovers and spouses of witches and wizards. Families and friends of muggleborns. People in the wrong place at the wrong time. People too close to a magical zone. People caught in the radiation. Soldiers became victims of self-defense. Innocents became victims of hopeless and desperate magicals and their uncoordinated attempts at counter-genocide. People were beaten to death by families and neighbors under the accusation of witchcraft. Muggle Society became a more virile and illogical modern-day Witch Hunt. Muggles died in droves comparable to their magical counterparts.

The world burned red.

I've never felt so all alone

To rest here in the quiet,

I'd never thought nothing could be so cruel

Or that I'd wish to riot

To rail against the judges, the jury, and the choir,

Surely I've done good or bad, not nothing

As though my destiny was simply to expire.

It took six years before the violence came to a shuddering stop. Over seven billion muggles were reduced to less than one billion. Magic now only existed in in hidden and fortified homes and small parcels of land. It was a case of mutual destruction that humanity may have never recovered from.

One of such home was the Le Fortuit Castle in France, a traditional castle situated outside of Versailles that had long since belonged to the Noble House Potter. It was unplottable and so heavy fortified that it managed to withstand and protect its inhabitants from the genocide of humanity.

Inside lived seven survivors: Harry Potter, Theodore "Teddy" Lupin, George Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Luna Longbottom, Hermione Weasley, and Cordelia Weasley.

Yet despite their luck up to this point, the world, Gaia, is dying.

And no amount of luck or magic will save them.

After four years of preparation and gathering, ten years of research (which was significantly hastened when Hermione and her daughter joined the residents after the death their husband/father and son/brother two years into the genocide) and learning, and two years of creation, the seven gathered before the fruit of their labor in the grand hall of Le Fortuit. It was a stone and wooden archway surrounded by centric rings of painted images and runes. The archway rose exactly seven feet and its ends were exactly seven feet apart. The wood and stone twined gracefully around each other in a seemingly random and wandering design. The entire structure appears delicate, as though a gentle prod would knock it over or even shatter it. Connecting, encircling and flowing around the arch are blood runes. The ink made from a curious mixture including standard ink, the blood of a unicorn (willingly given), and the blood of all seven participants.

The ritual will take them to another dimension,

One free and clean, without persecution.

Yet here I am

Trapped Nowhere

It had been ten years since Luna Longbottom Saw the need to create a gateway. It had been ten years since she told Neville and Harry of her horrific vision. It had been ten years they started to prepare. They gathered books, scrolls, art, plants, minerals, jewels, and artifacts which both told the history of Magic and enabled her children to use their gifts.

On that day they left that war-torn world. That wretched, broken world outside the windows of Le Fortuit. That world which Harry Potter The-Man-Who-Conquered had bled and died for. That world which spat in the face of his sacrifice and the sacrifice of others by turning around and slaughtering this world. That disgusting world where brothers kill sisters and lovers slit each other's throats. That world which Harry Potter truthfully claims to loathe above any other place.

On that day the seven stood before the arch. On that day Magic surged and whipped around Le Fortuit. On that day the interior of the arch shown with a bright blue light that filled the room and poured from the windows of the hall, and the blood runes lifted with a ghostly mirage.

That day was the last for one great, terrible but great, species. As one humanity took their last breath as the seven passed through the arch. An arch that had been made in the image of the Death Arch which had once stolen the life of an innocent man. Yet its incarnate worked in reverse. To the seven that passed through, it provided a passageway to a new world, but to the poisoned remains of humanity, it stole their lives to power its wretched magic.

And in the end the world was left scarred. Large swathes of destroyed landscapes lay barren. Cities, once bustling centers of the world, are now hollow and lifeless. In the scattered bunkers lay the remains of humanity. Corpses: slowly cooling, their hearts lay unbeating, and glassy eyed. And in the castle of Le Fortuit was a monolith where the arch once stood. Facing the South it bore the inscription:

"Ut occidere est ad purgandum.

Humanity was a disease,

Gaia was cleansed."

Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, The-Man-Who-Conquered, the Savior of the Wizarding World, the New Age Paragon of the Light, crossed over with a smile.

AN: "Ut occidere est ad purgandum" means "In order to justify killing" according to google translate. I never took Latin in high school.

SUMMARY OF CHAPTER: After the end of The Deathly Hallows (ignoring the epilogue), Harry takes custody of Teddy and moves out of Britain into one of the houses he owns as the head of the Potter and Black Families. Ron and Hermione marry and have two children: Cordelia and Leontes. Ron becomes the Head of the Aurors Department and Hermione revolutionized the Wizarding judicial system and serves as its first barrister. During that time, the wizarding world becomes even more prejudiced against anything "dark" or non-human. Also during this time, muggles discover the wizarding world, but unlike most people's expectations, they stay silent and wait, using that time to plan their attack. There was about four years of peace before the muggles began to bomb magical enclaves, and wizarding kind responded likewise. Six years later Harry, Teddy, George, Neville, Luna, Hermione, and Hermione's daughter Cordelia use a ritual to leave their dimension. The ritual sacrifices the remainder of humanity, unknown to everyone except Harry and Luna.

Ages: Harry Potter (26), Theodore "Teddy" Lupin (10), George Weasley (31), Neville Longbottom (26), Luna Longbottom (25), Hermione Weasley (27), and Cordelia Weasley (8).

Note: Luna is always a Seer in my stories, so she "Saw" the need to leave their dimension and used those ten years after the Second Blood War to prepare with Harry and Neville.