October 2000, ten miles down the valley from Caereryr Castle in the Cambrian Mountains of Wales
James Potter, having driven to the edge of the 'wizarding anti-raid defences', wards, of the castle and estate in an open-top estate Land Rover. Stepping out of the car, he twisted on the spot, vanishing as he disapparated. Several miles away, James reappeared with an almost silent swish near where he could feel the powerful magic and spells of two of his sons to be, Robert Bones-Potter and Hadrian Potter. As he re-materialised, James's wand leapt into his hand on instinct as a bolt of magic passed him with a thunderclap.
Rob Bones cursed his half-brother under his breath. Their duelling styles were completely incompatible. He liked holding off at a distance, using transfiguration and charms to control the battle. Harry liked destroying things. Harry fast, too fast to control. He moved in close, wielding a wand and a knife, and the spells issuing from the tip of the former were not combat magic. Harry threw around the more powerful battle magic, for slighting fortresses and enemy armies like duelling spells.
Throwing himself prone under a trebuchet curse which left a fifty foot trench in the loam behind him, Rob gestured with his wand, forcing the ground around him to tip him to his feet, regaining his balance in an instant as his wand weaved back and forth, chaining together a series of nuisance curses, aimed to distract and debilitate. Harry was still moving, closing the distance from the initial engagement distance of a hundred yards. He was barely thirty feet away, swaying through the spells as another bolt of magic raced towards Rob.
Muttering another curse under his breath, he recognised the spell as one known as Haephestus' Hammer, a blunt-impact spell capable of smooshing him and everything in a ten-foot wide, ten-foot tall frame all over Wales. Vanishing seven feet of mud from under his feet, Rob narrowly avoided being pulverised. Smoothly conjuring a waterspout to carry his water resistant-enchanted boots up to ground level, throwing dozens of the only lethal curse he could perform wandlessly, the 'Percutio' piercing curse while he worked a more powerful enchantment with his wand.
That was the moment Rob Bones realised his mistake, splitting his attention between maintaining the waterspout, the wandless casting, the spell he was preparing to cast and his half-brother. Harry swiped his wand at him, a powerful gust of wind destroying the balance of the waterspout holding him up. He plunged into the hole which then collapsed in on him.
Rob gritted his teeth and blasted away the mud, a rapier appearing in his empty hand as he realised Harry had closed the distance and was almost atop him. A skilled swordsman Rob undoubtedly was. He'd recently graduated from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but had resolved more than a few matters of honour and his family's honour by dint of the blade.
However, Harry rarely bothered with a sword. Steel rasped on steel as Harry blocked a lunge with his Fairbairn-Sykes knife, still moving forward until it was difficult for Rob to draw the three-foot blade back to attack again. Rob knew this move had only one way out. He had seen it before under wards which prevented magical travel.
It had been November 1990. Rob Bones had been visiting Hogwarts, attending the first Quidditch match of his half-brother and best friend Edward Potter. When a curse took hold on Edward's broom, Harry had quickly identified the one laying the curse, summoning defence Professor Quirinus Quirrel onto the pitch where the two fought and the Professor died.
It was also the last time he saw his eldest half-brother for nearly three years. In an incredible act of close-mindedness, the Ministry of Magic foisted a permanent suspension on Harry. It had been that very same day that Harry vanished into the non-magical world. Now, ten years later, he was a war veteran, a British Army Major and officer of the 22nd Special Air Service Regiment.
Rob Bones disapparated, only for an anti-apparition jinx to force re-materialisation fifty feet in the air. Cushioning his landing, he conjured powerful roots around Harry, who slashed them apart as they tried to seize him. Rob swiped away three flame-cutting curses that had reached him from the destruction of the roots when a siege mining curse reached him. Shielding himself with the most powerful bunker shield he could manage with a wand, Rob winced as the ground all around him erupted in an ungodly roar of smoke and flame.
Throwing the rapier towards Harry, he smoothly transfigured it into a bundle of ballista quarrels and added a powerful banishing charm, only for a blast of white-hot Warfire to consume them, racing towards him from Harry's direction. Apparating downwards to behind Harry, Rob unleashed a powerful torrent of electricity in the form of a reduced-power lightning bolt which went crashing past both his opponent and his father who appeared without warning.
That wasn't going to stop them as evermore powerful spells were exchanged, Rob eventually abandoning his usual charms, transfiguration and lower tier combat magics for the most powerful combat spells and a selection of the battle spells he was most confident with.
"HALT!" yelled James, creating a loud steam-horn noise with his wand, momentarily causing a halt in the fight; "Lily told me to come and get you for dinner. She will hurt you if you're late. Her words not mine."
The brothers exchanged a glance before silently disapparating, their father following. Annoying Lily Potter was usually a bad idea. Family though got off lightly, people who weren't in her family and annoyed her, if she was in a merciful mood, ended up dead. Less mercifully, she could make somebody's life miserable enough that they wished they were dead.
A day later, October 2000, Caereryr Castle, Ancestral Seat of the House of Potter in the Cambrian Mountains of Wales
The great hall of the mountain fortress of Caereryr was enshrouded in tense silence. For over a thousand years, dominating a mountain plateau in the Cambrian Mountains, the stone monolith had stood as the home and last bastion of an ancient dynasty, one which was reputed to have the ability in any time or location they chose, to mould the world. They were the Potter Family.
A thousand years of wizardry. Artorius Lucius Castus, Arthur the Potter as he became known was the first of a line which lived on in his descendants. Charlus Potter stood at the head of the table, ramrod straight, a shock of white hair and a neatly-trimmed goatee setting himself apart from the darker hair of those sat with him. Every member of the family over the age of eighteen was seated with him. Hadrian and Adrian, the twin twenty-five year-old sons of James and Lily, their younger offspring Edward and Eliza also sat at the table. Rob Bones was the only of-age offspring of James's girlfriend Amelia, who was sat next to Lily.
Sirius Black, Charlus's adopted son and his wife Artemisia, an Greek witch of Siren blood as well as Remus Lupin and Narcissa Lupin joined them, Draco Black sat next to the slumped form of Harry, who was half-asleep on the table next to his adopted sister, Susan Bones. Of the Black family, there were a few more members, Andromeda and Ted Tonks, as well as their offspring Nymphadora and Saul Tonks.
"At dawn this morning, the terrorist and self-proclaimed dark lord known as 'Voldemort' attacked Hogsmeade village with a force of his footsoldiers, burning maybe half of it before being driven off by Aurors and Aberforth Dumbledore." Charlus stated calmly, his voice, a deep baritone, reverberating about the hall; "However, he publicly threatened this family with slavery and death. We can consider ourselves at war with his faction."
"Bughhh grow-..." mumbled Harry into his arms.
"Somebody waken him up." growled Charlus, prompting Draco to poke Harry in the head with one long finger.
A moment later, Draco was tensed, bolt-upright in his chair with a very sharp parkerized knife at his throat.
"Don't fucking-well try waking me up physically." Harry sighed, flicking the knife down his sleeve before calling for a house elf with a flask of coffee.
"You have something to say?" Charlus asked.
"Yeah, I think." Harry yawned after taking a gulp of coffee; "You say they threatened us? Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me. Let's change that a bit. Words will never hurt us but bombs and curses may burn your manors down. Identify the terrorists, kill them. Raze their manors to the ground."
"I suspect that the Ministry would have something to say about that." commented Amelia wryly.
"Raze the political structure of the Ministry to the ground then Aunt Amy." Harry shrugged; "Fudge and his ilk are powerless without certain members of society who are quite high on my list of people to have bumped off."
"Take them out... collapse the Ministry in on itself. We could take control and put in some much-needed changes." James admitted; "What about family though?"
"I could go into Hogwarts... register as an exchange student." said Nymphadora Tonks; "Keep an eye on the kids and if necesarry pull them out."
"Agreed." Charlus said immediately; "Are the defences sufficient here?"
"Harry and I have been working on some significant upgrades in offensive defensive power." Adrian replied cryptically; "Let's just say some really big guns and an automated control system."
"If you need anything, tell me." ordered Charlus; "Harry, after dinner tonight, my study, I want a basic plan on an offensive response."
"Tell Voldemort to fuck off. That's fairly offensive. I'm sure I could add more squaddie language." Harry replied, emptying his coffee flask and calling for another.
October 2000, Study of Lord Charlus Potter Earl of Caereryr
"Harry, do come in." sighed Charlus as his eldest grandson walked in and flung himself in an armchair; "I trust you've had a productive day?"
"Yeah, I picked up a mid-level Death Eater in Knockturn Alley trying to broker dark artefacts." Harry replied; "Needless to say that said artefacts are in my 'dangerous shit' vault under the castle."
"Are we going to interrogate the Death Eater?" Charlus asked.
"Too late, drained him for every drop of information that I could before disposing of him." said Harry; "I don't want to go into history, but I have to at this point. As you are aware, the majority of Europe east of the Low Countries is split into a handful of large nations. Italy and Switzerland being part of the Papal Magical States. Poland, Germany, Austria, Slovenia and the Czech Republic being the Holy Roman Magical Empire, while Montenegro, Albania, Greece, Kosovo, Bulgaria, Macedonia and Turkey make up the Byzantine Magical Empire..."
"Slovakia, Hungary, Romania, Moldova, Bosnia, Croatia, Serbia all making up the Hungarian Magical Empire, I know, I studied this on my father's knee." Charlus interrupted; "What of it?"
"Unfortunately, everything west of Germany, that being the Low Countries, France, Spain and Portugal are all governed by those who at least sympathise with the cause of Voldemort." Harry frowned; "Our family is threatened by the continued purist governance in Europe who are supplying mercenaries, funds and resources to Voldemort, which must end."
"The Caliphate of Al-Andalus still lives on in the Balearics, Ceuta and Melilla, albeit in exile." Charlus stated; "They have always wanted the Iberian Peninsula back."
"We facilitate that, we gain a significant foothold in Europe. It will require force though." Harry commented; "France's current administration can be toppled with a few discrete assassinations."
"You have someone in mind to take control of the country?" asked Charlus.
"Jean-Sebastian Delacour, he's a friend, an ex-SDECE operative. His daughter competed in the Triwizard Tournament in '94 and won it handily." Harry responded; "We have an ally in Al-Andalus and once the purists are gone, France, we can either take the Low Countries by force or pressure the Holy Roman Emperor into making a move on our behalf."
"That leaves a domestic infestation." Charlus said.
"I've been preparing for just such an event. The old manors are rarely as fortified as this and the AGM-88 High-speed Anti-Radiation Missile can be modified to take out ward stones, drop the defences and let the bombers do the job." replied Harry easily, as if not discussing destroying the established structures of several governments; "Phantom fighter-bombers do the job well."
"I'll prepare you a target list." stated Charlus, working in an old, but familiar environment. During World War II, he'd flown ground-attack Typhoons and Tempests for the Royal Air Force.
"Good. Annotate those who have position on the Wizengamot, I want to take them all out in one fell swoop simply to intimidate the grey houses on the Wizengamot into siding with us." commented Harry; "The power, to them at least, of a family who is willing and able to destroy the most powerful political forces... They almost certainly won't risk going against us, while that power makes us attractive to them. The few who would be driven to oppose us, we destroy."
"Young Draco certainly wouldn't mind casting the final curse on his male progenitor." Charlus noted.
"Grandpa, have you ever seen what a flight of Handley-Page Victor strategic bombers can do to a patch of ground?" Harry asked suddenly; "The bomb bay can carry a Grand Slam earthquake bomb, two Tallboy earthquake bombs or forty-eight one-thousand pound general purpose bombs."
"I once saw the result of a Grand Slam operation." admitted Charlus; "Flying Typhoons over occupied France in '43. Otherwise, no, I haven't."
"Neither have I, but I look forward to finding out." Harry grinned wolfishly; "I believe that Lucius Malfoy still occupies a manor in Tollard Royal in Wiltshire. Within the range of a naval bombardment by one of your warships."
"Indeed." Charlus allowed a similar grin to cross his face; "I had been planning something along the lines of that actually. The upstart Riddle wrote me a letter."
"Pray do tell what he said." Harry requested as his grandfather raked about his desk before finding a piece of tattered parchment that he'd been using as a coaster for mugs of tea.
"I, in all my benevolent mercy, despite all right and reason to destroy the House of Potter, do offer the hand of friendship to you, Charlus Potter, in return for swearing your house to my cause, to be sealed with a marriage between the House of Potter and marked servants of my cause. Signed, Voldemort, Lord of the Dark Keep, Prince of Darkness, Heir of Slytherin and rightful overlord of Great Britain." Charlus read out.
"I believe it's impolite to fail to reply to such an offer." Harry commented, summoning a sheet of parchment and a fountain pen.
In a matter of minutes, Charlus was holding a swiftly-sketched reply, the quite elegant, sweeping writing that Harry had learnt from his mother causing him to squint slightly as he read it out.
"Thomas Riddle, bastard-born of the House of Gaunt, accursed and without faith, I, Lord Charlus Potter, decline your offer, and in return make an offer of my own. My offer is for you to withdraw your forces and ambitions to Ailsa Craig and remain there until you are nothing but a skeleton bleached by seagull excrement. In return, the full forces of the House of Potter, all its vassals and armaments will not be brought to bear on you, your forces and your sympathisers. Yours, Lord Charlus Dunstan Potter, Earl of Mindrum and Ravenscroft, Ancestral Praefectus Castrorum of the Sixth Legion, Marcher Lord of Caeryr and sworn brother of the House of Windsor." he stated, projecting his voice with all the power he could muster, even forcing a bit of magic into it.
Harry smirked as his grandfather's voice thundered out, reading the draft reply.
"Tell that to the Wizengamot." said Harry; "And between us, we destroy the purists."
"Take out their homes, ambush them where we can, eventually if we kill enough of them, we'll have effective control over the Wizengamot itself." Charlus commented, pouring himself a glass of whisky; "Do you think Amelia would like to be Minister?"
"I'm fairly certain she'd hate it." Harry replied; "But it doesn't mean that with effective assistants she wouldn't do a good job."
"Good. Maybe it's time to remind the world that we don't take thinly-veiled threats easily." the elder of the two men said; "How long have you got off-duty?"
"A month." Harry replied; "But that's after injury time expires. Got cut up a bit in Sierra Leone and am still officially on medical leave. If you need any longer I'll have to talk to the CO."
"If we move fast, we can destroy the structure of the purist movement in Britain within a fortnight." Charlus stated; "I'm sure Adrian wouldn't mind dealing with France, I believe his demonology studies are good enough that he can summon phantom wraiths and perform assassinations with them."
"Whereas I can summon F-4 Phantoms and blow stuff up with them." Harry smirked.
"Indeed." replied Charlus, raising a glass to Harry, who'd poured his own; "Fire and blood."
"Fire and blood."