Standard Disclaimer: All story characters and plot devices belong to JK Rowling.

A/N: The characters within are perhaps a bit less archetypical than those in Rowling's work, I hope it's because I imagine them a bit more layered, with more complexity, like Harry isn't necessarily a bastion of unconditional love, or that characters can't have real feelings for more than just the fairy tale ending.

This story has a lot of background and character development early to make the story and universe flow better. I like stories that have reasonable surprises and developments and that requires plausible story lines and staying within character. I am often disappointed with fan fiction that subscribe to the cliché of "It happens because I need more drama, or need more reviews." Stick with the story, I think its a worthwhile tale. For those Gabrielle fans, she begins to make a real impact much later in the story so please be patient!

This is my first fan fiction and I would love reviews for encouragement, ideas, and constructive criticism. My story telling has multiple points of view and contains many arcs that weave in and out of each other.

Prologue

It was over. The fighting was over, but the reckoning was far from finished. The bodies strewn about in the ghastly scene testifying to how the price for victory would continually be paid, generation by generation. The venerable castle of Hogwarts lay in ruin with the Gryffindor tower taking the brunt of the structural damage. The rubble and dust from the tower covered the Great Hall and bodies alike. Blood lay in pools amidst the living and the iron tang stench permeated everything. A lone figure swirled through the dust and debris desperately searching for hope.

As Harry stumbled to each of the wounded, he felt his sorrow and despair mounting. How he wished the survivors to lash out, curse him for his ineptitude, his delays, to berate him to save him the trouble. They would not oblige him, only asking for his blessing, treating him as a savior or saint. How could they be this misguided? How could he be anybody's savior when all of this destruction was because of him? His guilt threatened to engulf him … all the families, children, praising him; blessing him. Unrelenting like the ocean, crashing, pounding against his reserves, guilt was savaging Harry.

How many more could he have saved if he didn't go to Godric's Hollow, hadn't taken so long to surrender? How many parents would still have children, children not have to be homeless?

He squeezed his eyes shut to keep the tears at bay and mustered a slight grimacing smile to the first year Hufflepuff who had stopped sobbing when he came near. He collapsed next to her, staring into her face seeking anything to help her deal with such a tragedy. Her soulless blank stare tore at his heart, He was the reason; he stole her innocence. Transfiguring a scrap of cloth into a small badger, it circled them both and crawled into her lap, nipping at her finger, her eyes widened, momentarily lost at the magic. He frantically wanted her to remember she was a 12 year old girl, and this was a terrible nightmare that would fade away once the sun rose in the East.

The Chosen One, The Boy Who Lived, all of the titles he had garnered, and this was the best he could do? Simple charms? Wandering, seeking forgiveness for the lives he ruined following his fight against Tom Riddle? That girl and those like her would be scarred for life, a whole generation caught in his fight.

He violently shook his head, trying to banish those thoughts, the emerald eyes were burning, his tears would not be held at bay for long. He couldn't weep in front of those who put so much faith in him. He owed them his strength, what little he had left.

Sirius,Remus, Moody,Tonks, Fred, Teddy growing up an orphan ...

Lighting globes floated in eerie silence amidst the wreckage of the Great Hall. The wizarding families huddled close for warmth and safety. The morbid silence was interrupted intermittently with moans of anguish, pain or devastated loss. Now amongst the families, Harry silently slipped between them, hoping to remain as anonymous as possible. He didn't belong here; he was a stranger here among whole families, an orphan like Teddy, he winced as his breath was wrenched from him. He had condemned another how many children to a fate that he and Tom shared? How many would be abused, neglected, cast aside like trash?

In a daze, he didn't even recognize anybody, he didn't want to, he just needed to get out of there. Turning slightly, he wasn't ready for the ambush from his bushy-haired friend.

He felt the wind crushed from him as Hermione drew him into a hug.

"Harry? Harry, are you ok?" She knew something was wrong, the guilt obviously, but for once she couldn't fathom why that would be foremost in his mind. Voldemort was gone and the three of them were safe. The prophecy was done, her best friend was alive! Harry gave a wan smile and said, "Look around Hermione, nothing is ok". Hermione's smile dropped, but she felt tempered joy, here they were alive, and still together. This was how it was supposed to be, Light and love winning against evil and darkness. She hugged him harder, determined to force her will and emotion into him.

Hermione smiled up at her friend, Harry's selflessness, unending compassion and nobility were both his best and most torturous gifts. It made him amazingly appealing but also prone to brooding and depression, often for things beyond his control. She would be lying to say she didn't fancy him in some fashion, every girl at Hogwarts had. He had enough empathy it seemed for everyone that came to him, an endless well that made people gravitate to him.

She snapped out of her musings when abruptly he asked with a desperate fire in his eyes, "Hermione, do you love me?"

She smirked against his chest and hugged him harder, "of course I love you, like a ..."

"Brother, I know". Harry almost smiled at their inside joke. They were inseparable since the troll in their first year. They were so close, that if they had a knut every time someone though they were dating they would be rich. I wish it was enough.

Did she? Her glib, practiced response was easy off her lips, but she hadn't really thought about it since hunting Horcruxes. She had always felt so comforted by him, an easy sort of physical intimacy, always looping her arm in his, holding his hand. With Ron it was passionate, they argued, there was friction. Harry was absently stroking her hair and she audibly sighed against his chest. This was who they were, upsetting that or jeopardizing that would be reckless. Harry gave her that intimacy no questions asked, why look for more when she had so much?

Hermione felt him finally relax a little but then she felt him jerk upright and pull away from her. She scanned his now blank face and saw whatever light he had left die in his eyes. She traced his line of vision until she saw the object of his anguish. SHIT. Ginny and Dean crumpled together, his arms protectively around her. It was a casual comforting gesture, one that she and Harry had shared. The irony was not lost of her, but she knew that Ginny and Dean were definitely not her and Harry. Ginny didn't do that with Dean because they were best friends.

Harry face turned to an impassive mask as he pulled away, turned smartly on one foot and quickly left the Great Hall. He refused to give in to anger until he had passed those families whose forgiveness he craved. He spat his frustration and stormed towards the reason for most of his anger. The inequity of everything was crystallizing in his mind. You spent your childhood, your whole life controlled by a cruel abusive family, managed to not hate everyone and everything, got to a safe haven here (supposedly), was manipulated AGAIN, fed to the wolves blindfolded, died, came back to save everyone and ... Harry sighed. The problem wasn't that his life wasn't fair; it was purposefully made to be unfair. While Voldemort killed his parents, this asshole was to blame from then on.

He wrenched open the white marble crypt and confronted Dumblemore's body. Its peaceful repose was even more infuriating to Harry, as if mocking him in its slumber. "You got off easily old man, you are dead, and here I am to live in this shit. Your golden boy has won, and is left with nothing, NOTHING! The boy who lived, isn't interested in living this hollow life, I am 17 and there is nothing left in my life but guilt and sorrow. My life is a lie, a myth, one that you fed". Harry's body was shaking in anger, and motes of light began leaking from his eyes. He refused to cry, after everything that he learned, this man did not deserve it.

Harry lashed out and kicked the crypt. "Your weapon worked, you forged it well", he spat." Voldemort is gone, so everything I lost is justified for you. As for this", he held out the Elder Wand, "Its time is ended just like mine, both prophecies fulfilled." Harry emphasized each word as if willing Dumbledore to dare challenge him. This man exiled an infant to abuse and neglect and now everyone believed it was ok because now those 15 odd years culminated in the death of one Tom Riddle. Nobody cared what happened to him that was obvious, since his second year he had been discredited, slandered, held up as a hero, more useful as a figurehead than anything else. Even his closest friends had to be convinced of his value as Harry Potter, instead of the boy who lived. Well everyone but one, but she was unavailable.

Life was unfair, and Harry sneered at that ludicrous statement, it was a gross understatement, but it was also unworthy of a Gryffindor. Harry cringed, it sounded petulant and whiny and Sirius would have mocked him as an untrue Marauder. He wrenched himself from his self-pity and refocused his emotion to the former Headmaster. He knew Dumbledore had hoped to reclaim his wand when Harry survived, he would have worried that the Elder Wand should be entombed as well. Harry growled, as if he would do him any favors.

"You think I am going to return anything to you? You had everything taken from me, all for the greater good. What about my good, my right to a life, my right to feel safe!" Harry was snarling, but truthfully he was frightened by the intensity of his rage for the former Headmaster, the anger should be abating but it was unrelenting and growing. The light leaking from his eyes had carried to his hands, flickering throughout the chamber as he trembled under the strain of controlling himself. The last image he remembered was Ginny with Dean and then Hermione. His guilt and anger overwhelmed him and he tore the Elder wand asunder. After the two halves exploded all Harry could see was overwhelming light and then darkness.