Diagon alley was a war zone, explosions riddled the streets, shop fronts were blown apart, the corpses of dead animals littered the streets in front of the pet shop and Weasleys wizarding Wheezes lay in a heap of multicolored rubble. Each and every business that once stood as the pride of their owner lay in some state of destruction. The cobblestone streets ran with the remains of the potion shop and red with the blood of wizard kind.
2005 is the year it happened. After a fringe group of pureblood supremacist and death eater copycats cut a bloody swathe through the center of muggle London, in response to the terrorist attack, the muggle parliament finally came to the conclusion that the wizarding world was too much of a liability to be allowed to continue on. After months of political smearing, propaganda, and fear-mongering, the British Parliament caved to public outcry, declaring anyone with magic an enemy of the state.
It wasn't long after that France also put legislation forward labeling any magic user a domestic terrorist, next to fall was Germany, then public executions of magicals began in Romania. Magical communities continued to brush disappearances under the rug, ignoring the destruction of their communities. It wasn't until the fires of Birkenau burnt magical flesh that wizarding communities began to fight back.
Muggles discovered that wizarding communities could be discovered by use of devices made to detect magnetic fields, since wards and ley lines gave off magnetic signatures it did not take long for muggles to go to all out war with traditional ordinance. The magical world was woefully unprepared. Certain younger countries like America fared better, their population of magicals weren't as deep rooted in their perceived superiority and were willing to adapt to survive integrating muggle methods of war into their own to fight back more effectively.
Countries with older, more established communities of magicals like Great Britain were the quickest to fall. Their unwillingness and inability to adapt to the methods of war being foisted upon them proved to be the Achilles heel of their war effort. Wizengamot members were seen collapsing with knut sized holes in their heads, official government buildings could be seen being hit by capsules falling from the sky and then blowing apart in a hellacious shockwave.
It was at this time that a major cultural shift began to happen in traditional magical countries, half bloods and muggleborns began taking control, any pure bloods left took a back seat to those they, until recently looked down upon, for fear of losing their life. Underground sanctuaries became an absolute necessity, the immense infrastructure built by the goblins became pivotal to the hit and run tactics devised by the wizarding community. Unfortunately the community suffered too many losses, started fighting too late, and every life now lost was in vain.
Seventy five magicals were left. Sitting around a fire burning what could be found in their vaults subsisting on emergency rations and mushrooms found in the goblin caverns. Harry Potter sat pouring over a book he found in the very rear of his vault after having cleared it out in case he would have to make a run for it. There was no gold, all that had been spent on their war effort, buying supplies from smugglers bringing goods in from the few neutral or sympathetic countries to keep his people going.
No, in a shrunken trunk in his pocket was the accumulation of the Potter family knowledge save for the book in his hand. All his furniture and clothing had been burned for warmth or used to provide sleeping accomodations for those he fought with. The book he had in his hand was a strange one, it had no adornments, save for brass studs and a leather strap to keep it closed when not in use, and was written by hand. There was no noted author, the best Harry could come up with was that this piece had to have been written by one of his ancestors. Within its pages lay several different approaches and theories regarding trans-dimensional travel, hense his great interest.
It, as far as many of Harry's companions were concerned, had never been tried and according to many more didn't exist. And so he pondered. Questioning. Wondering if this tome detailed a fools errand, salvation, or an elaborate suicide note. After all, who in their right mind would ever view the veil of death as a method of travel? But here it was, a ritual said to empower the stones that framed the veil, and give them direction. This is the hypothesis drawn from the book before him.
In order for this ritual to work the blood of all travelers had to be mixed and used to anoint the capstone of the arch. This would activate the primordial runes carved into the supporting pillars and provide a path based on the travelers intent when the blood was originally given.
"Nev." Harry regarded his friend sitting on the opposite side of their rubbish fire.
"Yeah?"
"I think it's time." Harry said. Neville and him had been discussing the implications of this time since Harry first found it in the vault.
"It's a hail Mary shot but it's either this or get rooted out by the Royal Marines. Are you sure?"
"As sure as I can be."
Harry stood and called out loud enough that all could hear
"Could I have everyone's attention please!" All faces looked to him. Harry had become a sort of de facto leader of this group, some looked to him because of his status as the boy who lived and the man who killed Voldemort, others looked to him because they knew him from school and a few simply because they felt lost and Harry seemed to offer some level of order to their rapidly deteriorating lives.
They gathered around Harry where he and Neville detailed their plan with hopeful vigor. It was not however met with the enthusiasm they had hoped, rather their plan to use the portal was met with skepticism and outright disbelief.
Just as every coin has two sides, so does this group of survivors, there were those who believed harry was their beacon of hope, but just as well there were those that watched him stew over tomes for days at a time obsessing and muttering to himself, those that saw how he mutated from the scrawny weak boy into a warrior of ruthless efficiency, combining the use of his magic with the tools of war that muggles preferred. Those who saw him take the life of his fellow man without so much as a single tear shed. There were those that reviled him for these things.
And these are the people who made their opinions known upon hearing Harry's plan.
"You lead us like cows to the slaughter!"
"This is suicide plain and simple!"
"You disgrace the name of Potter!"
The last one came from the rear of the crowd, Harry knowing exactly who it was, he could see the red hair from here. The last of the Weasleys stood tall calling Harry every belligerent name in his albeit limited vocabulary.
"I call for a vote!" Ron called out over the crowd and was met with nearly unanimous approval.
"Fine." Harry replied, "all in favor, say aye!"
There were maybe three or four people on top of Harry and Neville themselves, all of whom Harry wasn't overly familiar with.
"And the nays?" Harry asked, already knowing the answer as the entire rest of the gathered crowd voiced their opinion. Dejected, Harry retreated to wear he had been sleeping so that he could ponder this development. He had set his glasses aside and was nearly ready to fall asleep when he heard footsteps headed his direction, ever ready and ever paranoid, Harry found his wand and gripped it tight mentally preparing for an assassin of some kind, when he heard Neville's voice.
"Harry, I would really like to talk to you if I could." Harry sat up relaxing greatly, one does not survive the genocide of your own people down to 75 individuals without becoming a bit paranoid. 'Paranoia can keep you alive.' Harry thought to himself as he gestured for Neville to sit and speak his mind. Neville sat down and studied harry for a moment before saying
"If they do not want to try then that is their choice, I think you and I should still continue on with the plan." Harry sat for a moment considering Neville's words.
"You cannot blame them for being scared. But I am inclined to agree with you, they are making their own choices. If they want to die cowering in a hole then let them. At least if we die it will be on our own time. Then there's always the chance that the chap that wrote this book wasn't a crackpot and it actually works." Harry said with a wry grin.
And so it was with this conversation that Harry and Neville packed what meager belongings they hadn't already put away, and started off into the goblin tunnels. They had done an incredible amount of scouting and research leading up to this point, when the muggles dropped bunker busters on the ministry they completely demolished the top seven levels of the ministry leaving only the department of mysteries and the floor above it, that if Harry was not mistaken was where the offices of control of magical creatures were, though it mattered little now as all that was left were a few paper airplanes trying to get through the rubble and rotting corpses from those that died due to the shockwave.
On one of their small scouting missions Harry and Neville discovered that one of the tunnels they were walking in was actually a drainage tunnel for the department of mysteries that fed into a deep underground aquifer that the goblins made use of. Harry and Neville found the access hatch that, while plainly visible to them from beneath the floor, was actually hidden above by a false floor tile. Climbing up first Harry cracked the hatch to make sure that nothing less than desirable caught them off guard as they made their way from the dank tunnel into what remained of the department of mysteries.
The once polished stone that Harry remembered from his fifth year was now dull, light only coming from their wands and the occasional wall sconce that hadn't been completely drained when the ministry collapsed. The place smelled of mildew and the floor was damp in several places. Clearly the magic that had kept the moisture at bay had faded 'probably a split wardstone' concluded Harry.
The duo carried on towards their destination, the persistent dripping of water keeping them company on their trek, along with the occasional wafting smell of rot, be it from animals or what remains of ministry workers from this level having succumbed to sickness, thirst or hunger. They did their best to keep their minds off of the subject, pressing ever onward towards the death chamber.
After what seemed like hours of creeping through the ruins of the ministry, Harry and Neville beheld the veil of death in all its ominous glory. Both of them paused to look around and take in the spectacle that lay before them.
"Well there's no time like the present," Harry said wryly, drawing a silvery dagger from his waist as a potion flask to hold the blood they were about to let from themselves. Harry drug the blade across his right palm squeezing a vertical fist above the vessel to make an impromptu funnel. Neville quickly followed suit, they healed their wounds, capped the flask and began to shake. After nearly a minute of vigorous shaking Harry spoke,
"That should be enough. Are we still in agreement with what we want to say when the veil takes us?"
"A place to prosper and find peace." Confirmed Harry, they figured this statement was vague enough but optimistic enough to set them some place that at the very least wouldn't try to kill them immediately.
Harry levitated the flask to the apex of the arch and twisted his wand hand to dump the blood on the stone. As it began to make contact the runes set into the stones began to flare a bright blue, slowly the blue bled from the runes into the swirling vortex that was the veil itself. When the brilliant blue snuffed out the last of the white wisps that had originally been the veil Harry and Neville felt a blast of magical power that hit them full force knocking them several steps back. Harry looked at Neville and spoke their agreed upon phrase and Neville responded back to Harry. The portal shimmered upon the completion of their declaration. They then wrapped their arms around each other's shoulders in a brotherly fashion and stepped through…
…Into complete chaos. The world around them was on fire, strange creatures and people ran around them in a great panic, giant sentient trees ran about their canopies in flames accidentally destroying buildings, women held screaming children and man channeled some kind of magic to calm the flames. Harry and Neville didn't have time to sit and ponder the strange looking people and creatures, both of their battle instincts kicked in and after a nanosecond wordless conversation between the two they immediately started putting fires out with fire extinguishing and water spells. Harry looked around and saw a tall building that people were fleeing from as well as another district that was burning and accelerating fast.
"You go that way! I'll go towards that tall building and see if there's anything I can do to help!" Shouted Harry over the roar of the flames.
"Alright stay safe!" Shouted Neville back as he took off spraying flames back with an aguamenti maxima spell like it was a fire hose. Harry charged forward toward the tall building in the center and saw what his mind would register later as an obscure sight, a woman in a flowing white gown and a metal half corset, and a tall man with the antlers of a stag and feathers like a bird were charging down the steps of the building.
The man bellowed out "FLEE THE TEMPLE IS EMPTY GET OUT OF THE CITY!" As they hit the bottom of the stairs a stone building to the man's side exploded into flames and green smoke sending chunks of stonework and masonry in all directions. After recovering from the shockwave, he saw that the woman was partially pinned, and the man had been completely crushed by a stone block the size of a garbage can. Immediately Harry's instincts took over he began blasting flames with water pushing the incredible heat back towards the building that had just exploded, the woman was screaming in agony, as her leg had been crushed from the knee down by another smaller stone from the same building.
Harry sprinted towards her sliding on the ground from top speed beside her and immediately began casting charms to keep the heat away, and then another building blew rubble and fire flew every direction, he casted several layered shield charms to keep the shrapnel from hitting them but the heat was another story as the hair on his left arm curled and beaded from the heat. Once he beat the fire back with water charms again she grabbed him in a vice-like grip locking eyes with her, hers begging him for something. Harry couldn't understand a single thing she said but was able to make assumptions. He cast a slew of painkiller and calming charms on her which seemed to steady her out. He looked at her again with an apologetic expression,
"I'm so sorry for this." He said as he cast wingardium leviosa on the stone to free her. He grabbed her under her arms and dragged her out from under the stone before letting it fall, she screamed in agony as the pain she felt from her leg being jostled broke through the painkilling charm Harry had cast on her.
Harry had no idea what to do, he didn't know the city, he didn't know anything about these people or the world he was in so he did the best thing he could think of, he picked the woman up over his shoulder like a firefighter and started waving his wand at the ground using magic to dig a hole as deep as a root cellar and transfiguring steel walls and a 3 inch thick fire door. He then carried her down, sealed the door and conjured a gurney for her to lay on, all whilst she continued to wail in agony begging him something in a foreign language. Harry laid her down on the gurney, looked her in the eyes and apologized as he knocked her out with magic.
The mini bunker was a method devised by Harry and his group on earth to be used in the event of a napalm strike on a wizarding community, a favorite method amongst muggles. It was fast and effective while allowing wizards and witches to shelter from the incredible heat above while tending their wounded. He had faith that Neville would conjure similar accommodations for himself and any he was rescuing
Harry straightened her out on the gurney after casting magelight and sticking it to the roof of their miniature shelter. He didn't want to knock her out, especially since she had no idea what was going on and was as of a few minutes ago incapable of communicating with him properly. He began looking at the injury she was suffering from and cringed a bit. It wasn't pretty but it was something he could fix, it was at this time Harry realized that the woman he was healing wasn't in fact human. He had been so focused on keeping them alive that he hadn't realized the purple skin, pointed ears and glowing eyes.
That wasn't important now though, he cast a spell to rebuild the bones in her shin and set them in the proper position. She would be lame on it for a day or so but it was better than an amputation and it would probably take that long for the inferno outside to die down. Now he focused on the lacerations from her knee down to her foot focusing on the ones weeping the most blood first and working backward from there, when he was finished he had her patched up and it was Harry's belief that she would avoid most of the scarring that would have came from traditional stitches or staples.
Harry conjured a proper pillow for her as well as a thin blanket, he then hit her with a few more calming charms so that she would rest without irritating the work he had just done on her leg. Harry then conjured himself a relatively comfortable chair against the wall and slumped into it. He had done an astronomical amount of powerful magic today pumping as much as he could into the water spells and healing this woman. He allowed his eyes to close momentarily only opening them again several hours later when he heard the gurney creak. He looked up ready for a fight only to see the woman feeling and looking intently at her leg that had been shattered, testing the movement of her ankle and wincing when she moved it too far.
She then caught him watching her. She spoke to him in a language he still had yet to understand. He held up one finger, pointed to his wand, then his throat, making a talking gesture with his fingers. She eyed him skeptically and eventually nodded her head slowly. Harry quickly cast a translation charm on the both of them. She stiffened as the magic washed over her then relaxed after she realized that no harm had been done.
"My name is Harry Potter, how do you feel?"
"I am Tyrande Whisperwind, who are you and where is Malfurion?"