Chapter 1

Funerals, Harry decided, were an exhausting experience. It seemed like an endless procession of the fallen for the first week after the battle for Hogwarts. Laying to rest those who had valiantly fought to the end for their belief that a better world could exist.

Parvati, Harry's first ever date, who he'd treated so poorly. Luna, a strange girl who only ever wanted to have friends to share her life with, and Neville, a true Gryffindor, faced his fears and refused to be overcome by them. They and so many others Harry watched be put to rest, accepting Hermione's hugs as she cried, clasping Ron's shoulder as they both tried to push back their tears.

Harry heaved a sigh as he collapsed onto the couch in the Minister's Office within England's Ministry of Magic. Ron emulated him on the other side of the sofa and Hermione between them.

"Any idea what he wants?" Ron murmured, rubbing at the dark circles under his eyes.

Even though she was just as tired as Harry and Ron, Hermione was quick as always with a theory.

"Harry's support most likely. With the Ministry's current structure, they need as many proponents of its rebuilding as possible, to try and reassure people."

Harry scratched the messy stubble on his cheek and grunted, but the door to the office opened before he could open his mouth.

Each member of the trio sat straight and had their wands ready before the door had even fully opened. Until Kingsley Shacklebolt walked into the room. He had grown a beard since the trio had last spent significant time with him. The gray strands told a story of the stress he had been under for the last few years, and the empty sleeve on his right side showed his sacrifices.

"Harry, Ron, Hermione." He greeted them with a nod and a small smile before folding himself into the armchair adjacent to the coach, forgoing the formality of the austere desk that Ministers had sat behind for the last 200 years.

Harry nodded back but couldn't summon up a smile. "Alright, Kingsley?"

"Harry," Hermione scolded, slapping his arm. "It's Minister Shacklebolt now."

Kingsley's warm baritone chuckle rang through the room.

"It's quite alright, Hermione. If anyone has earned the right of informality, it's you three. I imagine I'm doing as well as can be expected right now, but I'm feeling better every day now that the three of you put an end to You-Know-Who."

Harry nodded seriously. Very few within England's magical community had lived through the last two years with accruing scars. Scars that would take more than a week to heal.

"Being sworn in as the Minister of Magic probably hasn't helped any." Ron, ever the strategist, threw in his own two pence. "Logistics and clean-up have got to be a nightmare right now."

Kingsley rubbed at his beard and relaxed back into his seat.

"Yes, and I'm glad you brought it up. I'm sure you already have an idea of why I asked you to come and meet with me here rather than at your home Ron, or at Grimmauld Place. The Ministry is in dire straits, we've already been forced to oust 40% of the previous administration, and between court cases, rebuilding, medical treatments, obliviation of Muggles, and reforming political ties, we're completely overwhelmed. Add to that the complete lack of trust the public has for the Ministry, and you have a situation that becomes impossible to manage."

Kingsley's shoulders seemed to slump as he spoke, like his words had an actual weight now that they were in the air. Harry felt it as well. When He, Ron, and Hermione had been hunting Horcruxes and facing Voldemort's forces, they hadn't thought about what would come if they won. They'd just naively assumed everything would work out and life would return to normal.

Harry closed his eyes. "What do you want us to do, Shack? We don't have a NEWT between us, and I don't think people will want a few 17-year-olds telling them what to do."

Kingsley shook his head. "I don't think you understand how much people look up to you right now, Harry. Or Ron and Hermione, for that matter. " Kingsley waved a hand lazily at the wall. "The entire time you were out there, we heard whispers of what you had accomplished. It was getting to the point that You-Know-Who's supporters were afraid to say your names as the months went by, and people drew strength from that. I drew strength from that."

Kingsley stood and walked to his desk to retrieve a thick manila file sitting on its surface.

"I know it's a lot to ask you to do more, but I believe your involvement is critical to rallying the people."

"I'm not asking you to commit to anything today, but please," He said, handing Hermione the documents. "Read these. They are the reforms I'm proposing, and with your support, I think we can push them through to legislation."

His piece said Kingsley sat back down, and Harry could see why the man had been elevated to the rank of Minister. Then, looking at Ron and Hermione, they silently communicated before nodding in solidarity.

"We'll read them," Harry affirmed quietly.

"Thank you." Kingsley said with another small smile, "Molly invited me for dinner this Sunday. Take your time to think everything over, and we'll talk then."

Hearing his polite dismissal, the trio stood and moved to exit the office.

"See you later, Shack."

Out of the office, they made their way through the near-empty Ministry, trying to ignore the empty workstations and the silence of the once bustling seat of government.

"What are you two thinking?" Ron asked.

"That I was stupid for thinking that everything would go back to how things were just because Voldemort is gone," Hermione replied, clutching the file to her chest, her voice wavering. "It wasn't supposed to be like this."

Ron wrapped his arm around her as she walked, offering a small comfort. Harry didn't say anything, but one look into his emerald green eyes conveyed everything.

They walked in silence until they reached the apparition point, and with a twist and a loud crack, the three vanished from the near-empty halls.

Harry sat beside the pond in the Burrow's backyard and stared at the gently rippling water. He didn't know how much time had passed since he'd sat down, but the moon hadn't been reflected in the water when he had. Kingsley's plans were ambitious, a complete reform of the Wizengamont, aggressive recruitment of new Aurors, and a complete revitalization of foreign policy. It was the latter that Kingsley wanted Harry's assistance. Many of Voldemort's followers had fled, and the Ministry, as it was, couldn't stop them. Kingsley wanted to send Harry to find, capture, and bring them back to be tried for their crimes. It gave peace and closure to those they had harmed and would show the greater world that Britain was willing and able to clean up its messes while strengthening ties.

It wasn't until he heard soft footsteps approaching from behind did his attention waived. He turned and watched Ginny walk towards him and sit on a log beside him.

"You're brooding again."

Harry smiled slightly. Ginny was blunt as ever, never dancing around a subject with him.

"Maybe a little. I was going over Kingsley's plans earlier and needed some air."

Ginny nodded, and they were silent for a time, but the silence was never something that had come naturally to Ginny.

"You know you've done enough, right? No one would blame you if you took a break, went back to Hogwarts, got your NEWTs."

Harry shook his head, eyes still fixated on the water.

"Maybe people wouldn't blame me, but I'd blame me."

Ginny reached out and clasped his hand in hers.

"Why?" She whispered. "You've done more than anyone else. You have endured so much."

Harry could only hold her hand as he tried to put his thoughts in order, to figure out how to explain to Ginny why he couldn't go back to Hogwarts, back to her.

Taking a deep breath, he exhaled shakily.

"Did I ever tell you that I used to think I was cursed? Everything that's happened since Voldemort killed my parents, all those horrible things seemed to center around me and cascade outward to hurt everybody else." Harry pulled away from Ginny and started to pace back and forth.

"Then I heard that prophecy." He spat the word out like the foulest of curse words.

"And just like that, it all made sense. Everything that happened since that night was part of Fate's plan. Every horrible thing forced me to grow and gave me the skills to face him."

Harry waved his wand at the pond, and the water instantly became tranquil and smooth, reflecting the moon and constellations like a mirror.

"Fate's roadmap," Harry murmured bitterly, letting his hand fall limply.

"But if I work with Kingsley, it won't be Fate. It will just be me helping make the world better, a place worthy of the sacrifices everybody made." Harry's voice broke slightly as he finished speaking, thoughts of caskets and those who filled them running through his mind.

"Oh, Harry." Ginny stood and hugged him tightly, so much so that Harry could feel tremors racking her body as she silently cried.

"It wasn't your fault. None of this was your fault. Fate doesn't dictate our actions; it just gives us choices. You, Harry Potter, are a hero because of your choices and the lives you saved, not because Fate said that you could potentially kill V-Voldemort."

Harry accepted her hug but didn't say anything, he couldn't, or the tears he had been desperately fighting back for days would fall, and he couldn't afford for that to happen.

Ginny was the first to pull away, sniffing and swiping at her eyes as she did.

"I knew that I couldn't convince you." She admitted quietly. "But I had to try. I love you, Harry."

Ginny's admission tore at Harry's insides, but he didn't falter. His guilt at breaking her heart was a drop in the bucket compared to everything else.

"I love you too, but I have to do this."

Ginny covered her mouth with a hand and nodded, tears falling faster before turning and returning to the Burrow. Harry watched her retreating figure until she disappeared inside before turning back to the pond and the clearly reflected moon and stars.

"Just a little bit longer," Harry told himself.

Sunday came around too quickly. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had spent their days relaxing as best they could during the day and discussing the details of Kingsley's plan during the evening.

"I still don't like that it will split us up," Hermione stated as she and Harry set up numerous tables and chairs throughout the Burrow's expansive back lawn.

Harry knew she didn't expect a response, and so he said nothing, it was just Hermione's way of dealing with her nerves, and he understood that.

While Harry would be traveling, tracking down fugitives throughout Europe, Hermione and Ron would focus their attention on the British Isles. None of the trio much liked the idea of separating, but they had all agreed that it was the most logical choice and would be the quickest way to begin rebuilding.

Harry and Hermione got the table laid out just in time, as dish after dish began to zoom out of the open kitchen door.

Bowls laden with mashed potatoes, fresh ears of corn, boats of rich gravy, and a large roast settled down and caused the table to groan slightly under the weight of it all.

Harry smiled as the Weasley's all spilled out of their home, each levitating yet more food between them, except for Fleur, who held her infant daughter close and cooed gently at her as she walked.

Ron came over and took Hermione's hand in his.

"He'll be here soon."

A soft ping echoed from the wards surrounding the Burrow as if Ron's words were a signal.

"Charlie!" Mrs. Weasley called as she bustled about the table, arranging and rearranging food. "Can you please check the floo?"

Harry stood there and smiled for the first time in what felt like forever as he looked at the family that had all but adopted him. Mr. Weasley followed his wife, casting floating balls of light, the twins teasing Percy, and Bill stood with his arms around Fleur, making funny faces as his child giggled and clapped. For just a moment, Harry could forget the world outside the garden and revel in the happy feelings around him.

Harry didn't look away from the happy scene as Kingsley strode from the house to stand before the trio.

"I'm sorry, I meant to wait until after dinner, but I'm not going to be able to stay here that long. Did you have a chance to look over my proposal?"

Hermione nodded. "We did, Minister."

"And?" The skin around Kingsley's eyes tightened, and his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed.

"We'll help," Harry told him, his voice soft.

Kingsley sagged as the tension fell from his shoulders.

"You have no idea what that means to me. What it'll mean to our entire nation."

Harry shook his head.

"We aren't doing this for the England Shack. We're doing it for them." Harry nodded towards the Fleur and her daughter.

"So that children have a chance to grow up in a better world."

Kingsley turned and smiled slightly as he took in the scene.

"I can't think of a better reason. So enjoy tonight, and tomorrow morning you can join me at the Ministry, and I'll explain everything in more detail."

Their conversation concluded. Harry led the way to the tables and laughter, determined to enjoy the night of celebration.

Harry swore under his breath as another curse whistled past his ear, throwing himself to the ground to avoid the second volley.

He and a small team of Aurors had tracked a group of Death Eaters led by Augustus Rookwood, one of Voldemort's most dangerous lieutenants, into the humid hell that was the Brazilian rainforest.

The Death Eaters had made their base in a long abandoned temple and had done a thorough job fortifying their position. So much so that it had taken Harry and another Auror named Gideon an hour to bring down the wards surrounding the temple, unfortunately alerting the Death Eaters to their approach.

"Moving cover!" An Auror behind Harry screamed, and a waist-high wave of earth appeared, moving quickly towards the temple.

The cover gave Harry time to get up and sprint forward, sliding behind a tree as the wave of dirt was dispelled, and bright flashes of light came hurtling at him once more.

"Potter!" Gideon barked. "Get to Rookwood. We'll cover you."

Harry waited for a beat as the Aurors leaned out and began launching their own spells at the Death Eaters before spinning from cover and charging towards the temple entrance.

Harry batted aside a bright purple curse with his wand and hurled a wide field banisher, it wasn't strong, but it was enough to push the Death Eaters at the doorway back into cover as he continued to hurtle forward.

"Terebare!"

The sickly orange piercing hex slammed into the wall one of the nameless Death Eaters was hiding behind. The scream of pain that followed told Harry that he hadn't missed.

Diving through the temple archway, Harry tucked into a roll and fired two powerful bludgeoning hexes as he came to his feet, slamming another figure into the stone wall.

Panting, Harry quickly scanned his surroundings and determined he was safe. Then, trusting the Aurors to handle the rest of the dark wizards outside, Harry cautiously made his way deeper into the temple.

The structure was crumbling as old buildings were want to do. Great tree roots had sprouted through the floor, and vines clung to the walls. It made Harry's footing treacherous, and he had to glance down every few moments to make sure he did trip.

Before long, the sounds of shouting from outside dimmed to nothing, and Harry could pick up a new sound. Chanting, indistinct but rhythmic in its consistency, echoing softly off the walls and growing louder with each step he took.

Approaching an arched doorway, Harry took cover and carefully peaked around the corner. The room beyond the entrance was cavernous, and at its center was Rookwood and a stone tomb.

Rookwood stood at the head of the tomb, facing the doorway. However, Rookwood's focus was entirely on the magic he was attempting to invoke as he moved his wand constantly, forming intricate runes that hovered briefly in the air before sinking into the crypt.
Harry leaned back with a grimace. Rookwood had worked as an unspeakable before Voldemort's rein and had served as the Dark Lord's chief researcher. Harry did not doubt that whatever Rookwood was doing was dark and esoteric, not something interrupted lightly. However, Harry was sure he didn't want Rookwood to complete whatever ritual he was invoking.

Harry debated internally for a moment, but in the end, inaction wasn't in Harry's nature, and he moved around with the corner into the room, his wand held high.

"Stupify!" Harry barked, hoping to quickly knock Rookwood out with as little fuss as possible. But the stunning spell dissipated before it got within two feet of the man, the magical energies too dense for such a simple spell to breach.

Harry continued to stride forward.

"Reducto."

The blasting charm got closer but ultimately failed to reach its target.

Rookwood was chanting faster now, his want barely more than a blur as he drew rune and rune.

"Forzare!" Harry bellowed, sending a lance of pure force strong enough to toss a car at Rookwood.

The barrier protecting Rookwood's barrier couldn't stop the amount of raw power Harry had funneled into his final spell and collapsed with a boom.

Rookwood was hurled away from the tomb and sent rolling across the floor, and Harry didn't give him a chance to recover. A jet of red light hit Rookwood, and his wand was ripped from his hand.

Harry caught and snapped the wand all in one motion, and for a brief moment, silence was restored to the ruins until a deep thrum shook the air, and Rookwood started to laugh.

"You're too late, Potter." Rookwood wheezed. "You can't stop what's coming."

A loud crack rang out, and Harry skipped backward as the floor began to split outward from the tomb, which began to glow with a sickly purple light.

Harry's mind raced. He didn't know how to decipher the magic at work, so he fell back on what he did know. And that was that fire acted as a universal purifier.

"Anima Ignis!"

A white-hot firestorm exploded from Harry's wand, turning the stone between him and the tomb to slag.

"No!" Rookwood screamed, scrambling to his feet as the fire began to eat away at the magic affecting the crypt.

"Do you know—"

Harry stunned Rookwood before he could get too close, and his moment of inattention to the fire cost him.

During Harry's brief moment of distraction, the magic around the tomb pulsed violently, and the fire exploded outward.

Harry got a flimsy shield in place just in time to take the worst of the magic, but he was still tossed backward and scalded as the protection failed to hold.

Groaning, Harry climbed back to his feet, stumbling slightly as his vision swan.

"Finally." A voice mumbled, drawing Harry's attention back to the center of the room where a figure now stood.

He was tall and skeletal thin, with long, tangled black hair and an equally ratty beard.

"You child, were you the one to free me?" The man asked Harry before his eyes narrowed.

"No," The man answered his own question. "You were the other one. You disrupted the ritual."

The man looked about him, and his eyes fell on the unconscious Rookwood, and he stumbled towards him.

Harry watched in wide-eyed disbelief as the stranger fell to his knees and placed a glow crimson hand on Rookwoods back. Disbelief turned to horror as Rookwood's body shriveled like all the moisture was pulled from his form.

"Weak," The man hissed, anger clear in his voice as he pushed himself to his feet. "I'm surprised he had the strength to overcome the seals placed upon me, but I suppose he didn't succeed completely."

The man looked upward, and Harry followed his gaze as a beam of white light punched through the ceiling and slammed into the floor where the tomb once was.

"Wotan!" A voice boomed, and a being made of pure light stepped forward.

"I won't go back!" Wotan snarled, and Rookwood's remains glowed red and hurled themselves at the Being, who raised its hand and blasted the body to dust.

Wotan used the half second granted to him and tore open a hole in space, diving through it just as the Being fired another beam of light, missing Wotan's inch.

The tear closed as quickly as it opened, leaving only Harry and the Being in the temple ruins. Harry bolted, summoning his invisibility cloak around himself as he did, but before he could get to the exit, Harry felt like a giant hand wrapped around him. The hand squeezed Harry, locking his arms to his sides and pushing the air from his lungs.

"Curious. If I had not already known you to be here, I would have never sensed you."

Harry felt his feet drag across the ground as he pulled before the Being who examined him closely.

"An impressive artifact you bare." It said, reaching out and rubbing the cloak between its fingers before pulling it off Harry completely.

The Being hummed. "You are strong, and you are just. You have been touched by Fate, this I can see. You will do."

"What?" Harry wheezed out, only for the pressure to abate but not release him entirely.

"Wotan has fled to a place I can not follow. You will go in my stead and ensure his strength does not return."

"What? No!"

Harry struggled to free himself from the Being's hold, flexing his muscles and magic as much as possible. Finally, the Being's grip lessened but didn't break as Harry hoped.

"Who the hell are you?"

"I am a Lords of Order. And you, Harry Potter, will help, or you shall never see your friends again."

The being waved its hand, and a portal formed, hovering mid-air.

"When you find Wotan, you must defeat him and seal him using this ritual." The Being waved its hand again, and a scroll appeared. The Being thrust the scroll into Harry's hand.

"Wait! You can't do this!"

"I can, for a champion is needed. If Wotan is not defeated, then entire worlds may fall. You must stop this from happening."

The Being didn't wait for Harry to argue further and threw him through the portal and into the unknown.

Something new to play with, tell me what you think.