Prologue: Slouching Toward Bethlehem
The universe was fractured.
Sure, the hairline crack that rippled through creation weren't enough for anyone to notice. But they had an effect on people.
And these were merely the splintered depressions in the fabric of everything, at the heart of it there was a cause—someone or something was burrowing its way further toward the surface. Slouching nearer and nearer toward the world and cackling with maniacal laughter—if it did indeed laugh.
In the three years since the Second Wizarding War this change in order had still carried a believable sense of normalcy. With Voldemort dead and the world safe for the foreseeable future, this was okay. Even then the world had exploded into a rash of wars and fears of terrorism and talk of plagues. But this is considered normal.
What does normal really mean?
Desensitization had made this view of normalcy acceptable. Without the constant threat of death and paranoia over whom to trust, it was easy to accept the world as it was and not as it should be.
Still, troubles swelled and grew, especially in the Muggle realm. The creeping cracks barely extended into the magical world and even if they had been more prevalent, no one would have sensed them.
As is usually the case with the naïve, the Ministry of England and the entire Magical population of the world continued its policy of isolationism, content with the fact that their demons had been exercised and not knowing that a universal evil edged its way into the world.
Author's Note: What lies ahead isn't going to be *exactly* canon. Yes, this takes place after the books, but more than likely it will ignore the epilogue and much of what was done there.