Harry stared dispassionately at the new grave of Albus Dumbledore without any expression. Inwardly, however, he was delighted to see the aged wizard who had caused him so much pain and grief dead. But the best part was it was all Dumbledore's fault. Harry had frequently warned Dumbledore about Snape, and the old wizards' need to be right over the last few months, but the old man had refused to listen.
And now he was dead, a lot of it was down to the curse that was eating Dumbledore's body from the inside out, causing it to decay and rot, so from that point of view, it would make sense to see Snape's killing curse as merciful. But Harry didn't care because now Dumbledore was dead, he could finally end the war by himself without the old man's insane plans for a hunt for the Horcruxes delaying him for another year.
He had already made his plans, they would be fulfilled by the end of the evening.
"Hello, Mr Potter."
Harry sighed and he turned to find the tall, leonine form of Rufus Scrimgeour, the new Minister for Magic and Fudge's replacement. For an entire year, the new Minister had been trying to gain Harry's support and favour, as if that would end the war. Harry had thankfully been inside Hogwarts and he had managed to avoid the man all this time. But he had received letters from Scrimgeour over the year asking for a meeting, for his support, and he had not bothered to respond to any of them.
Scrimgeour might be twice the man than Fudge was, but in Harry's mind, the new Minister was as ineffectual and as corrupt as Fudge had been. In the time he had been in office, Scrimgeour had done very little in terms of fighting the Death Eaters. Most of his time was spent listening to his advisors, who were Fudge and Umbridge, and it was clear he would likely make the same mistakes they'd made in the past. But what offended Harry the most was how the man expected him to publicly state Scrimgeour and the Ministry were doing a grand job when all they seemed to be doing was locking up anyone whom they didn't like. Harry didn't know and frankly couldn't bring himself to really care about why Scrimgeour had a grudge against people like Stan Shunpike. The conductor of the Knight Bus might be annoying, and obnoxious, but he was generally harmless.
"Hello, Minister," Harry's eyes flicked and his jaw clenched and his lips upturned in a snarl of disgust when he noticed Umbridge and Fudge standing not far away from Scrimgeour. "What do you want? Oh, let me guess, you want me to support you."
Scrimgeour was surprised by the displeasure on the Potter boy's face. "Yes. I do. You might not like it, Potter, but you are an important symbol of the war. We must work together to end He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."
Harry closed his eyes and looked down at the ground, trying hard to control his patience and his rage. He cursed Dumbledore, Slughorn, Voldemort, Black, Lupin, Pettigrew and Trelawney about the roles they had to play in his life. He hated being famous and yet no matter how many times he tried to make others see that, they just refused to listen.
Scrimgeour went on. "I don't know what kind of grievances you have against the Ministry, but whatever Dumbledore told you about us is wrong-."
That caught Harry's attention and he lifted his head. "Dumbledore told me nothing about the Ministry; my grievances towards you started a long time ago. Get this into your mind, Minister; I don't need anyone to tell me whether to like or distrust someone; I only have to sit back and let you act to see if I can trust you. And I don't. I don't trust you and I definitely don't trust the Ministry. Why? I was there, in Hagrid's Hut underneath an invisibility cloak, and I listened to him," Harry jabbed a finger at the surprised Fudge's face, "arresting Hagrid for petrifying students throughout the year. He said the Ministry had to be seen doing something, and you bastards had had the entire year to come and deal with the problem Dumbledore failed or refused to do. You didn't care if Hagrid was innocent, you just took a look at the events that happened half a century ago, and your pathetic excuse for a brain told you he was doing it again. That was bad enough, but the worst of it was you didn't even make a token effort to protect the school following that. After all, the victims were only muggle-borns."
Scrimgeour didn't look happy at the attack his Ministry was now under. "Mr Potter-."
"Next is when the Ministry sent dementors - unsupervised - to Hogwarts to track down Sirius Black. A hundred of them boarded the Hogwarts express! The exposure they put us under was bad enough, but we then get to the kicker. Because those dementors were unsupervised, they might have kissed a number of students, including your precious pureblood heirs!" Harry was looking more at Fudge than he was at Scrimgeour at that point, and he saw the gaping face of the former Minister for magic was looking like the whole thing had never occurred to him in all of the time he had given the dementors free reign at the castle, but the idea so many children, especially the pureblood heirs, was a shock that he hadn't expected. He hadn't even known. Harry could tell just by looking at him.
"You see? Look. Look at the pathetic fool now. He finally gets it!" Harry crowed in delight while he spitefully sneered at Fudge for a moment before he turned to Scrimgeour, not even bothering to hide his disdain for the man himself. "In my fourth and fifth year, the Ministry both ignored the warning signs of Voldemort's return - the Death Eater attack at the Quidditch World Cup and the small 'insignificant' deaths since, and my involvement in the Triwizard Tournament."
Scrimgeour kept silent as he stewed. He had hoped to finally get a chance to talk to Potter without Dumbledore there to interfere or whisper nonsensical advice into Potter's ears, as Fudge and Umbridge claimed. Instead, he was watching his career as the Minister of Magic fall apart in front of his eyes. The mention of the Triwizard Tournament had been a blow, especially when Harry Potter, following his capture of the Golden Egg, performed a magically binding oath, telling everyone someone else had put his name into the Goblet of Fire. The fact the boy was still alive was a testament to the fact the way was telling the truth.
"Did the Ministry get involved? Did you bother to interfere, to discover the truth? No, you didn't. Voldemort returned by the end of the year, and instead of being believed when I gave him names of the Death Eaters, and an offer to swear another oath I was telling the truth, Fudge ignored me and claimed I was being confounded by Sirius Black, which was his answer for everything wrong in this country. And over the next year, your toad bitch was sent to the school to torture students who spoke out of turn, and she is still free! Well, it didn't fucking turn out well for you, did it?" Harry snarled scornfully between the former Minister and the current Minister, not really caring about their reactions. "How many people have died since the night you had Voldemort shoved into your face, Fudge? Can you even tell how many, or do you prefer to stick your head in the sand?"
"What do you mean, Umbridge tortured students?" Scrimgeour jumped on the horrifying implications of what Potter had said.
"Well, it never happened to me; during that year, I spent the whole year training and keeping to myself while I worked for my OWLS, but I know Umbridge used a torture device on the students," Harry turned his grim, solemn face towards Scrimgeour.
Umbridge saw her chance. "He's lying, Minister," she said desperately towards Scrimgeour in her trademark simpering voice but it was so high-pitched and desperate that even Scrimgeour was frowning, and Fudge was looking nervously around as if hoping to find a hole large enough for him to stick his head under the ground. But not even Scrimgeour or Fudge was thick enough to not notice the way Umbridge turned threatening eyes towards Harry, who didn't look threatened or scared. In fact, he looked unconcerned.
"Silence," the Minister countered. "I'll deal with you later." He turned back to Potter. "I am not Cornelius Fudge, Mr Potter. My administration is not going to make the same mistakes he made during his tenure."
"Oh, but you have," Harry countered quickly. "You've been arresting people left and right. Are they Death Eaters? Have you ever done anything to stop Voldemort, slow him down? No, I don't think you have. I think you've been doing nothing at all, and for reason, I won't support you. Goodbye."
Scrimgeour couldn't stop himself as he angrily snapped. "If you walk away now, you will never find work at the Ministry of Magic. I know you want to become an auror."
"I can live without the Ministry," Harry stopped and turned, "and as for becoming an auror, that's only a myth. I don't want to hunt down dark wizards for a living. I've spent too long fighting them. I don't want a career of doing it." With that, Harry turned and walked off. He had to get away from here and fast before someone stupidly said or did something to make him lose his temper. Harry spotted the Order of the Phoenix members and he turned and walked away. He had no desire to spend any time with them, or listen to anything they had to say. He had a lot on his mind, a lot of plans and counter plans to come up with before he left. He was leaving for London in a few hours, and he was not going to spend his holiday with the Dursleys or anyone connected with them. The Order would almost certainly make sure to send him back to Privet Drive, and expect him to go with a bowed head like he was a good little boy. He was planning on emigrating to the Bahamas, he had longed to live somewhere where it was warm, and he would finish his education there or in America.
One thing annoyed him and delighted him in the funeral, though; dumping Ginny Weasley. Harry was not stupid, he had known the little red-headed bimbo and her loud-mouthed bitch of a mother were dosing him up on love potions. But he had detected their potions long before now. He had only fooled them while he gathered evidence of what they were doing. When he dumped her, Ginny had come out with an insane comment that angered him. She said that Harry wouldn't rest until he had stopped Voldemort, which was what he wanted to do. Harry had never wanted or asked to get involved in the war. He just wanted a peaceful life. And he made sure to tell the shocked and shaken redhead there was no them anymore. It was over, for good.
Avoiding Ron and Hermione was also troubling, but it wasn't hard. Making his way back into the castle and losing himself in the maze of corridors, Harry made straight for the Astronomy tower. After casting wards on the entrance to stop anyone from interrupting him, Harry sat crosslegged as if he were about to meditate, and he closed his eyes and gathered his strength.
Jabbing his wand into his scar, Harry began chanting in Ancient Egyptian - he had been practicing this spell for weeks now which was one of the reasons why he hadn't removed the Horcrux from his head after he had discovered it there. Harry had learned he had the Horcrux after a particularly painful and vicious nightmare, and after learning about the Horcruxes he had started to wonder. He had cast the detection spell over himself and he nearly lost it when he discovered the test was positive. He had a Horcrux lodged in his head, and Dumbledore must have known about it but he had refused to do anything about it, and he had let the filthy thing fester in his head. For weeks, Harry had redoubled his efforts to master the Ancient Egyptian spell and incantation to get it right so nothing nasty happened to him when he did use it. When he had discovered the Horcrux, Harry had been relieved because it meant he would not need to go on a hunt at all when he had been prepared for it originally. He could just cast the spell, clear out his vault, change his nationality, and get the hell out of Britain and study abroad.
There was nothing in Britain for him. And he wanted nothing to do with his father's useless friends or the Order and their Ministry stooges. As he chanted the spell, he felt a searing pain in his head while he could hear the distant but distinct screams of Voldemort, the Horcruxes and the connected Death Eaters as the magic was torn out of them. But he wasn't finished. Harry sensed the gathered and collected magic from Voldemort and his soul pieces and the Death Eaters, and he mentally 'held' it back.
"From hell's heart, I stab at thee," Harry panted with the effort as he 'spoke' to the Death Eaters and their master as well as the people in the country, "for hate's sake, I spit my last breath at thee." In a slightly louder voice as he started incanting a curse. "This is a curse, for those marked and unmarked throughout the lands. For the ones who used their money to impoverish others, to those who used their magical gifts to torment and torture those hopeless, for the ones who used their strength against the innocent, for those who saw but did nothing about the pain… you will confess to your crimes, you will become crippled, twisted, rotten. You will lose your minds."
Gathering the magic to his wand, Harry lifted up his wand until it was pointing at the sky. A jet of light streamed out from the tip and into the sky where it started a thunderstorm and activated the curse. Harry flicked his wand at the door and unlocked it and he left.
Mass murder was a harsh crime, but if the Death Eaters survived after Voldemort then they would start all over again, and perhaps Voldemort would return all over again to start off his never-ending quest for power. By tearing out their magic, Harry was safeguarding everyone else. Whatever awaited their souls, Harry didn't know and didn't care.
A few weeks later when he had quietly left the country while it was gripped in the chaotic mess he had left in his wake although he had left a story in the Quibbler, Harry was walking along the coast of the Bahamas. It was good to finally be free.