A.N.: Hey guys, here is the prologue, and as it might seem to indicate, I now know where this story is going. If this doesn't make any sense to you, it is because I wrote the first chapter before the prologue, so just read the author's note there and you should get what is going on.

As you can tell, Dumbledore is evil. Sorry to all you fans of him out there, but that is just necessary for the plot. If you are wondering why he is evil, it is because he always blamed muggles for what happened to Ariana, and got really bitter.

Also, I moved the story forward in time almost thirty years to make it easier for me to write. Sorry, but trying to keep up with social standard, technology pursuits, global politics, and habits and fashion from before I was born to write a fiction story is a little too much for me. Not sure how much it will change the story, but there it is.

While we are at it, I changed my OC for Harry into Bellatrix Black. I'll explain that later

Other than that, I got nothing to say, so on with the story!

*Strongest magic metal of the Goblins

-ooOOoo-

August Twelfth, 1951
Deal du Diable
Southern France

Albus Dumbledore was almost drunk, again. He had been 'almost' drunk for the last couple of weeks, ever since school had let out. Of course, it wouldn't do to have the 'Savior of the Wizarding World' and the most respected teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the (allegedly) best school of magic in the world, drunk in public, but his glamour wouldn't wear off anytime soon, so no-one knew it was him. He could stay just a little longer.

As he drank, he tried to figure out exactly where Grindelwald, is old friend, his only friend, had gone wrong. Dumbledore knew he had been wrong, but the longer he thought about it, the more he wondered. Albus knew magicals were better than Muggles. Those filthy beasts had ended up taking Arianna, his father, his brother, and now his only friend from him, and he knew they were all the same nasty, scheming monsters no better (in fact, far worse) than a goblin on the inside. He knew that the wizarding world was stagnating, dying out, even. He knew that the world of magic, and thus, the magic of the world, was fading. Most of all, he knew that Gellert hadn't been a "dark lord", and had only wanted what was best for magic as a whole, and wizards and witches in particular. All this, Dumbledore knew to be true, and he couldn't figure out why Gellert had been evil. He hated that.

Actually, that was only the first of several things he realized he hated. He hated the conundrum he was facing. He disliked idiot students expecting magic to solve all their problems. He despised the magic world for expecting him to solve all of their problems. He loathed politicians and their scheming. He detested solicitors, juries, and litigation cases. He found alcohol, being drunk, and hangovers abhorrent. He was bitter at the Elder Wand for betraying Gellert and choosing him. And above all, he realized he really, really hated prophecies.

October Thirty-first, 1960
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Transfiguration Teachers Office

There was a feast in the great hall tonight. It was nothing special, just a typical Samhain celebration, but everyone was in a good mood. The first two months of school had passed without much incident. Tom was somewhere out there, making a name for himself, but he hadn't killed anyone recently to the best of Dumbledore's knowledge, so there was nothing pressing there. All in all, Dumbledore realized he could relax if he wanted to. He hated being able to relax. Relaxing meant thinking.

He was gradually beginning to wonder if he had done the right thing at the end of the last war. Yes, he was sure he did the right thing by not killing Grindelwald, but he was beginning to wonder if stopping him had been the right thing to do either. As long as there had been Gellert Grindelwald and his fanatics, things got done. On his side, they got done, or he would kill you. On the other side, they got done, or he would kill you. Really, death threats made people very effective, and nothing said 'DEATH THREAT' like a maniac burning down your house with your family inside.

Still, these times of peace was preferable to the times of mayhem and killing. This much he was sure of, even if he was beginning to doubt the rest. After all, the dead did no one any good. Even Grindelwald served a purpose by being alive, even if it was only as Dumbledore's confessor. Honestly, as crazy as he was going in prison, Grindelwald still had a frighteningly good idea every now and again. Like his latest idea, concerning periodic dark lords to shake up society and get things moving. Maybe, with a little effort, Albus could turn Tom Marvolo Riddle into his own puppet dark lord. Of course, he would need a new name (Marvolo. What kind of name is 'Marvolo'?) but with the proper guidance, Albus might be able to use him to get some new bills past, or even to bolster his own fame. It had been years since he had done anything noteworthy, and the last thing he wanted to do was fade into obscurity, teaching snot-nosed brats and muggle-bred horrors the basics of magic. There had to be more to his life than that!

Albus reached into his sleeve and drew the Elder Wand from his robe. He still didn't like it, never mind trust it, but having a spare, secret wand had some great uses. Having a super-powerful spare, secret wand was all the better, and he had some work to do if he wanted to make whiny Tom Riddle worthy of being his soon-to-be-defeated 'worthy' opponent. With this thought, and a mountain of new plans to make, he went humming on his way to the feast.

The Heir of Merlin was ready to prove his worth again.

October Thirtieth, 1999
Potter Mansion
Lydiard Park, Wiltshire

Albus walked away from the fantastic three-story manor house, quite pleased with himself for several reasons. First, there was the fact that he could honestly say he was finally ending the Potter line. As of tomorrow, the Leaders of the Grey would finally die, making him able to grab their votes (and followers) to strengthen the Light. He never doubted for an instant that he would be able to get the majority of the Grey faction firmly in the light, as Voldemort, the Dark Lord, was going to kill the leader of the Grey. That action alone would assure the support of the Bones', the Greengrass's, the Davis's, and several other. Maybe not all the Grey would side with the light, but he could be assured a majority of them, and thus, a majority of the votes. As a nice bonus, one of the primary Light families that was giving him trouble and resisting his control, the Longbottom's, would most likely be next, making it all the easier to pass several new laws Dumbledore had his eye on. Best of all, he would be able to finally eliminate the threat that was Sirius Black. He had originally planned on letting Pettigrew (the nasty mudblood!) take the fall, but he could always prove that Tom himself was descended from the Muggle beasts, and that should be enough to break ties with the mundane world, but Sirius Black! Honestly, how did a nice evil family like the Blacks have a decent, Light-minded son! Such a thing wouldn't do at all. People might start to think that the Dark families could be saved before the war was over, and try to mend fences and broker peace! As much as that was, in fact, Dumbledore's own endgame, it wouldn't do to have someone else come up with that idea to soon, so Sirius Black had to go!

Another thing he was happy about was his pocket full of artifacts. Actually, that one kind of annoyed him every time he thought about it. He had been eager to see what 'wand magic' or runic magic or even enchanter's magic items the Potters had, and was going to relieve them of all 'non-conformist magic' items on principle, but the second outnumbered the first almost three to one! Why James Potter, transfiguration expert, found it necessary to practice beast-tamer magic was beyond him. And Lilly! She held masteries in Potions, Charms, Runes, Divination and Arithmancy, was a skilled ward-mistress, as well as having the (dubious) honor of being the foremost expert in Ancient Rituals alive (he was never sure how he felt about ancient rituals. On the one hand, they were the predecessor of modern 'wand' magic, on the other, they could be used in any other type of magic, and they tended to be unpredictable and WAY to powerful) but she somehow felt it necessary to study Soul magic, dabble in necromancy, summoning, and animating, and even was studying blood magic, of all things. Honestly, how much magic did one person need? Still, he had a fine haul of useful artifacts, and had gathered so much stuff, his massively expanded, feather-light pocket was bulging at the seams, and quite heavy, so, all in all, it was something to smile about, even if destroying the corrupt magical items would take him a month. Why did people have to keep trying to create new forms of magic? They were barely holding on to the old kinds!

In majority, though, Dumbledore was happy. It had taken a great deal of work to get this war all set up just the way he wanted it, but then Sybill Trelawney, a pretender seer from a long line of pretender seers, had gone and made an actual prophecy! He had planned on hiring her for the express purpose of stamping out the practice of seercraft and divination, just as he had hired Severus Snape to limit the number of potioneers, but then she had to go and provide an actual prophecy! He had intended on her making a fake one, but she had actually done it! The nerve of the woman. There was even a registered copy in the Department of Mysteries! Dumbledore still didn't know how they even did that, but he knew it had to go. How was he supposed to limit knowledge and control the wizarding world if seers, who could see both the past and the future, were, well, able to see both the past and the future. He was sure that sounded better in his head than it ever would coming out of his mouth.

Just before he reached the gate, Dumbledore froze. On the other side of the two-hundred-year-old ensorcelled fortissimum magica metallum de cobali* gate, or formagli gate for short, stood a sight he had hoped to never see. A powerful black dog, made of shadows, stood outside the gate staring in. Its glowing red eyes were the color of blood, and it smelled like decay. The ground under its feet was bare, the grass having withered away, and small insects could be seen fleeing from it as if their lives depended on it. No doubt about it, Dumbledore was seeing a grim.

His first thought was to panic. Such creatures were portents of doom, and seeing one was often associated with a sudden and violent death. However, after a tense moment, he suddenly relaxed and chuckled. He walked over to the gate, opened it, stepped out of the way, and made a grand welcoming gesture. The grim walked past him, nodded its thanks, and continued up the drive to the house. Chuckling to himself that his plan was coming together, he walked as quickly as he could toward the boundary of the wards, twirling the Deathstick. Sometimes, it was good to be him.

November Twelfth, 1999
Headmaster's Office
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

It was sometimes horrible to be him. After the countless hours of planning, massive effort, and more than a few bribes he had put into them, all of his carefully-laid plans were in ruins. Harry Potter had survived. August Longbottom had survived. Peter Pettigrew had probably survived. Voldemort had fallen. The Lestranges were in prison. McGonagall was getting mutinous. Trelawney was being insufferable. Hagrid was being insufferable and mutinous. The Wizengamot was being insufferable, mutinous, and boring. The Grey were still sitting on the fence, only this time, they were not voting at all, which meant he wasn't getting nearly as much passed as he hoped. The Dark was being clever, throwing bribes and passing the more controversial laws that Dumbledore had wanted passed, so all was not lost, but still, things were bad.

Still, in dark times like these, it payed to look on the good side. Though he himself wasn't the savior of the wizarding, Harry Potter was, and he was just a toddler. Dumbledore would be able to use him as a straw man to get laws passed for the next few decades, at least, and he wouldn't even have to tell him. All in all, that was a good catch, and he had even been able to lock him in with some horrible muggle family Lilly had to make sure he would be pliable, compliant, and, best of all, he would hate anything Muggle. It was perfect!

Better still, Sirius Black was in Azkaban! He had initially hoped that Black would resist arrest and be killed, but he hadn't. At this point, he had been worried he would have to kill Black with his own hand to make sure he wouldn't go on trial, but then, Barty Crouch, Senior had called a meeting between him, Bagnold, and himself to "discuss the issue", and had offered an ingenious solution. The idea of sending Black straight to Azkaban without a trial appealed to Dumbledore immensely, though he had hemmed and hawed quite dramatically about it at first. It had been a work of art to see to it that Barty had thought he was against it, and had only agreed "to make sure the betrayer of the Savior of the Wizarding World's parents didn't end up bribing his way out of Azkaban". Of course, Bagnold had been against it, but a few overpowered compulsions from the ever-ready Elder Wand had seen to that, not that Crouch would ever find that out. All in all, the situation was perfect. With Sirius Black dead, he would be a villain for a few years, tops. With him rotting in Azkaban, however, well! He would be a monster under the bed for a decade, at least! That is, if he lives that long. After all, Azkaban is a dangerous place.

Finally, the best piece of news he had was the bill that he had just gotten passed through the Wizengamot. For the longest time, Dumbledore had been trying to solve three problems at once. First, how to make it so that only the magics he deemed worthwhile were used; second, a way to but down halfbloods and muggle-born and -raised witches and wizards and make them stop showing up the purebloods; and finally, the ability to monitor all the magic that happened in Britain away from hotspots like the ministry, Hogwarts, or pureblood homes so that another Lilly Potter situation wouldn't show up without any warning. In front of him sat the subtle and clever answer to all three at once, all while appearing to go something different. The bill was simply labeled: The Trace. All in all, Dumbledore viewed this as one of his better pieces of work.

One of the oldest laws in wizarding Britain was the Underage Magic Law, a law that made it illegal for anyone under the age of seventeen to cast magic without a supervisor. While made in good faith, the law itself was almost exclusively ignored, as it was remarkable difficult to prove whether any magic produced was the fault of an underage wizard, or if, in fact, they didn't have a magical supervisor. Most people ignored it, but Dumbledore saw an opportunity and took it.

The Trace bill was advertised as a way to make sure underage witches and wizards were not being attacked, and to make sure that, in these troubled times, they did not add the trouble by being careless with their magic. The trace machine would require myriad small runestones with the Hebrew phrase: תגלה שינוי בקסם. Easy to carve, and in an obscure language so they would be harder to work around. These stones would then be shrunk down to the size of sand grains, and, with the help of a little storm magic, would be seeded all over the country. Now, here was where it got good. The stones connected to a central exchange, a massive magic-grown Kyanite stone. Hidden in the stone was the inscription: Реци штапићу смрти. The first inscription was merely the Hebrew phrase "Detect change in magic", but the second was Russian for "tell the wand of death." The junction stone would then filter out all uses of adult magic, sending it straight to the Elder Wand, and send the underage magic through to the Underage Magic Department. That way, the government could take care of the kids, and Dumbledore could take care of the rest. But the best part, by far, was the fact that the stone naturally resonated with acceptable magic, and against all other types. It was brilliant!

After a few more moments thinking, Dumbledore broke into a smile. Yes, things had not gone as planned, but, with the Elder wand at his side, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was more than a match for anything that got thrown at him.

May Thirty-first, 2011
Headmaster's Office
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Dumbledore was really getting tired of Harry Potter. No matter how many times he threw the runt at Voldemort, he just wouldn't die! Voldemort hadn't found him during the ten years at the Dursley's, even with the blood ward that clearly broadcasted Harry's location to anyone magical. He hadn't been killed during his first year, even though he was a slouch with a wand and was going up against the greatest Dark Lord of England's history combined with a skilled and powerful warrior. And this last time, Voldemort had had a bloody basilisk and had lost to a twelve-year-old with a hat, a songbird, and a sword!

Boiling with anger, Dumbledore did the only thing he could at times like these. He popped a lemon drop in his mouth, got up from his desk, walked to a blank wall, opened a door to a secret room, used that to go into a secret room under that secret room, picked up a specific secret object, which took him to a secret library, where he pulled a specific book to open a secret door to a secret hall in the secret library that could only be reached by secret portkey…. well, you get the idea. After almost an hour of this, he finally opened the secret compartment, in the puzzle box, in the secret safe, in the safe, in the hidden compartment of a very well-hidden desk. From that compartment, he pulled out a smokey white marble. Setting it on the on the desk, he tapped it with his wand.

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord arises… Born in sorrow, his power brought forth in the fire of battle, destined to bring war… The Lord shall seek him as a pawn, and bring low his family, yet, though, him its greatness shall grow all the more… The Great Monster shall fight the heir of Merlin, as the tale of Morgana is told… touched by three of beastkind, the faceless, whose name is Anathema, the kindly one, hiding bloody soil, and the oppressed one, to be saved… These three shall be his tokens, and by them, the war shall be won… peace will come forth, the Powerless Queen will go to her place, and an age of prestigious magicks shall begin.

Dumbledore smiled. This was his validation. His family brought low by Grindelwald, yet he stood taller than any before him. His power, the Death Stick, came to him during his fight with Grindelwald. He had fought him next to a theater that was playing King Arthur. Grindelwald had tried, and failed to control him. He had helped Hagrid out of his oppression, and was viewed as a good man because of it. He had hired the half-beast Flitwick as a teacher, a popular choice, and goblins were known for killing wizards underground. He wasn't sure about the faceless, but it would either make sense in time or, had already been completed. Now, he would finally kill the muggle queen and bring about the Golden Age, no matter how hard he had to try to kill Harry Bloody Potter.

As he made his way back, as was his habit, he stopped in his secret library to see if any ideas came to him. As he was browsing the shelves, a particular title caught his eye. With a grin, he pulled the book of the shelf and made his way back to his office, reading as he went. He could barely contain his excitement, as the answer to the Potter Problem was in this book. It would take a couple years, and a great deal of care, but Harry Potter would die, and the Triwizard Tournament would see to it.