A/N: So this is my first fanfic, for the longest time I've had ideas that I have day dreamed and hashed out partially in my brain. Never expected to actually put in the effort to type it out but motivation strikes at random times I suppose. These are mainly fantasies I created while going off on rants on certain parts of the original stories and just what I've dreamt up while listening to music. Also because a lot of the things I want to read, I just can't seem to find. It's a little confusing at the start but stick with me.
Chapter 1: home-wrecking
Harry was miffed, scratch that, he was pissed. He was raging and slightly concerned because he wanted everyone to know he was raging. Enough with the god forsaken incorruptible champion of the light persona, he wasn't Dumbledore and damn them for forcing him to step into the old man's shoes. That was the problem with Wizarding Britain. Harry concluded bitterly. A vague memory of young Hermione telling him that wizards lacked common sense came to mind, he banished it ruthlessly. No use thinking about that right now. No, the thoughts occupying his mind right now were a lot more important. Justice and punishment, not the pencil pushing slap on the wrist kind. Harry James Potter wanted righteous justice, the one that came covered in blood and topped with some decapitated heads. A little out of character for the Gryffindor Golden boy? What would you know? You weren't desperately holding onto your best friend as they lay dying in your arms.
Hermione Jean Granger, Deputy Chief of the Office of Magical Legislature, chuckled mirthlessly as she bled out in the arms of her first real friend in the middle of Diagon Alley. "I don't want to sound like a bitter old crone, but this really interferes with my evening plans… or just future plans in general" she croaked out, snapping her friend out of his ever-spiralling thoughts. "Really Herms, we talked about priorities" the young man chastised her, even as a quivering smile made it onto his face.
The Lord Potter traced his hand over the girl's wounds, the entrail expelling curse had bits and pieces of his best friend all around them. But that wasn't enough, no if that was the extent of the damage, he would have rushed the girl to St Mungo's. As useless as their healers were, he would take any chance he got. No, Harry knew her fate was sealed when he saw her rapidly withering arm, the same bloody curse that had sealed the old Headmaster's fate. Because he had studied the dark arts extensively these last few years, he knew that even combining the brains of Hermione-the-brightest-witch-of-the-century with his ridiculous magical power it would all be in vain. And the brightest witch of the century seemed to have reached this conclusion way before him.
Suddenly, she grabbed his hand and roughly moved it to her ruptured belly. Grimacing, Harry stretched out his magic to see if he could sense what she was trying to show him. Hermione wasn't sadistic so there must be something she wants him to figure out. A sharp intake of breath and Harry's bloodied hand reached up to clamp his mouth shut, to keep the screams and profanity down. His eyes made contact with Hermione's, she diverted her eyes quickly.
"You were -" and this time it was a pointed glare from the girl that had shut him up. He looked around to see the crowd that was beginning to gather around them. Oh right, forgot about them. He hoped the sheepish look on his face would serve as an adequate apology to the girl in his arms. "How...when.." he began, not able to phrase his question. "3 weeks, I was going to make you the godfather. No one else knows…. You can't tell Ron" she answered everything that was on his mind but gave rise to new concerns. Why did she want to keep Ron in the dark, didn't he have a right to know?
"I'm so sorry Harry, I swore I would always be there for you but now I'll be leaving you behind and with such a burden to bare, I really - " This time it was Harry's turn to silence the poor girl, he had held up his hand to simply get her to stop, unwilling to cause any discomfort to the witch. "No, I'm glad you told me and you know I would never fault you." The wizard had spoken nothing if not the truth. Hermione was like a sister to him, he would never turn on her or blame her and before today, he had sworn he would never let anyone hurt her. Obviously, he had failed, useless as he was.
"Her name was to be Rose; I knew it would be a girl" Hermione once again interrupted his thoughts, seemingly intent on dispensing more information. Harry didn't question how the witch had known the baby's gender, but he believed her. After all, if anyone knew, it would be Hermione. "I swear if you blame yourself, I will come back from the dead and haunt you" She threatened the wizard. "what makes you think I wouldn't welcome it?" Harry countered out of habit, his verbal sparring with Hermione was how they usually communicated, he was the only person who could match her sharp tongue after all.
"On second thought, I'm not coming back, it wouldn't do you any favours to have a ghost as your best friend you goddam recluse" Hermione muttered weakly, while the words were harsh, they lacked the bite to make them malicious. Seeing her friend open his mouth to retort, she quickly continued. "Harry, please listen, there is and always will be a fine line between doing what has to be done and acting out in vengeance or arrogance. Dumbledore lost sight of the public good and was so focused on his bigger picture that he failed to realise the true problems of this world. The Dark fanatics are not the problem, they were extreme consequences of the failings of the wizarding world. Grindelwald, Voldemort and even this new one, Atilius Selwyn, as long as this world remains somewhat the same, there will always be another to take their place until this world simply wipes itself out." She stopped, struggling to take a few breaths. "This is one of the side projects I was working on" She announced finally, digging into her bottomless purse and unceremoniously dumping a keychain into his hand. Harry gazed curiously at the two stainless steel keys hanging off the metal ring.
"I know you can make it work but you're only allowed to go there when you are calm. Desperate times, desperate measures" The witch announced, a satisfied look on her face, as though she had said all she wanted to. Harry didn't understand, Harry had a lot of questions but so did the huge crowd that was now surrounding them. They had not heard the exchange between the two friends, but they wanted to know what exactly was happening.
"Harry, no matter what you chose to do. Remember that you do not owe the world a damn thing and I couldn't possibly be prouder of you. And tell Ron I love him and I'm sorry I couldn't tell him myself" Her final words came in a whisper, Harry straining himself to hear her, the light fading from her eyes. Raising a bloodied hand, he closed his best friend's eyes for the last time, silently wishing her a safe journey to the afterlife. He laid her down onto the ground and leaned back to take in the sight. This is how the great Hermione Granger died, age 20, the first public and prominent victim in what was sure to be another war. Harry withheld a sigh; how many would he lose this time he wondered.
Dozens of loud cracks warned him that the Aurors had arrived. Harry would ignore the tears streaming down his face for now, there was simply nothing to be done about that. He couldn't find the energy to get up or even look at the Aurors who now surrounded him, pushing back the frantic crowd. He was sure there was chaos, that people were screaming and arguing and whispering, he could see their mouths move and their eyes widen at the gruesome sight. But Harry just couldn't hear them, none of those sounds mattered. Silence and shock filled Harry's world, until he heard a muted thump to his left, out of the corner of his eyes he noted that Ron had fallen to his knees beside him. The Weasley's face was turning a dangerous shade of red, almost matching his Auror robes. The boy's mouth opened and suddenly Harry's hearing returned with a vengeance. The red head's scream was blood curdling, the sound sent chills down Harry's back. Even the Cruciatus Curse hadn't produced something like this.
Just as suddenly as it had come, the screaming stopped, replaced with a soft whisper. "Mione?" a broken voice left the red-head's mouth. Harry looked back at the corpse of his best friend, it looked like the withering curse had completed its course. The blackened and decayed body and all its smaller pieces would soon be beyond recognition. Not even a body to bury, Harry squished that thought immediately but his anger was rising again, he could feel it. He needed to get out of here before he did anything he would regret. Slowly rising to his feet, the wizard closed his eyes, trying to regain control over himself, wiping away the last of his tears he looked around. The Aurors had pushed the crowd back a few feet and some were questioning the civilians, throwing confused glances at the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry was an unknown variable to them; they were not sure how to deal with him or even the extent of authority.
This was one of the reasons Harry had gone into a self-imposed exile a few years ago. They all wanted to treat him like Dumbledore, someone to guide them, to tell them what to do. But the minute somebody had an idea, anything he said would fall on deaf ears. Before the man could remove himself from their presence, a hand grabbed his forearm. He looked down to see it was Ron's, the red head had not moved from his position, still kneeling at the side of his dead wife. "She wanted me to tell you that she loved you" Harry softly informed his other best friend, Ron's hand then fell back to his side, all power gone from his grip. Harry slowly started walking, to get far enough away from the crowd to aparate away. His head down, he couldn't bear to look at anyone, let alone Ron.
What was he even supposed to tell his redheaded friend? What answers could he possibly give the man that wouldn't be painfully obvious to the Auror? The new Dark Lord wanted your wife out of the way because she was championing the rights of magical creatures and Muggle-borns, because she was forcing all sorts of progressive laws down the Wizengamot's throats by making good use of her office and her place as the proxy of the Black and Potter seats on the Wizengamot, she wouldn't even buckle under their threats. No, they both knew those were only excuses to legitimize the assassination, the real reason Hermione died was because she was Harry's political backbone. She was the one who made sure the government didn't turn on their beloved hero like they did in the past. She was the one that ensures that Harry has all his freedom and was cleared of any trumped-up charges so that the Ministry couldn't control him. She was the one who muzzled the Daily Prophet by pushing through media laws about honest journalism. She was the one who made sure the Ministry and magical populace didn't ignore this new dark blighter and allow him to fester. Most of all, it was because she was his best friend and he was Dark Lord enemy number 1.
Harry heard shouting behind him, now alerted by the distressed noises, he turned around. The crowd had parted, clearing a path between Harry and Ron. Ron, who was now standing, who had his wand in his hand, whose face was flushed red with fury. "You had no right!" the red head shouted across the alley; wand pointed at his friend. "Ron.." Harry tried to placate his friend but to no avail. "DON'T EVER SPEAK OF HER" Ron roared, his wand now pointed straight at Harry. A red light flew across, his reflexes and training kicked in, his wand appeared in his hand and he batted away the spell. Not willing to fight his friend, he reached his hands out in a sign of peace and betrayal etched onto his face. "Ron, please" Harry begged his friend to think about what he was doing.
No other spell came but the Weasley's wand was still pointed at him, which in turn led to the other Aurors pointing their wands at him ready to jump in should their captain require their help. "You will stay the bloody hell away from my family you miserable bastard or I will put you in the ground myself" Ron growled out, his breath came in harsh pants. Harry dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement of the warning and disaparated.
He had lost both his best friends today. With Hermione gone and Ron blaming him for it, Harry had no doubt that the Wizarding world of Britain would once again crucify their beloved boy-who-lived. He fingered the keys Hermione had handed him. It was right in that moment that Harry Potter made a promise to himself, as soon as he figured out what Hermione was talking about, he would stop playing the leader of the Light role that was shoved onto him and heads would roll in recompense. He was done holding back on this world.