Chapter 1 - The Desolation of Britain
Diagon Alley was in shambles. The street, which was once the very embodiment of vibrant life, now lay devoid of any signs of life. There was only death. Corpses could still be seen in corners, evidence of the final cataclysmic battle in which Lord Voldemort became the undisputed Monarch of Britain. The shops were still there, rebuilt, remade. After all, Voldemort had to rule something.
Harry entered a book shop. The owner stiffened and raised his wand at him.
"Only bearers of the Mark are allowed entry unescorted," the old man said. There was a hint of sadness in his voice, no doubt, things would have been different in his ideal world.
Harry shrugged, and bared his left sleeve, clearly displaying the Dark Mark on Marcus Flint's arm. "I am Marcus Flint, old fool."
The man paled and hastily lowered his wand. "Master Flint, sir. Please come in, what a delightful pleasure."
Harry turned his cool gaze upon the man and proceeded inside. He browsed through the section on soul magic, trying to find anything that might hold clues on his new condition. But there was nothing there. Nothing, at all, that would be helpful.
"Can I help you with something, Master Flint?"
Harry frowned, trying to think how a Death Eater would respond to such an offer. Instantly, a picture of Lucius Malfoy swam in his mind.
"Desist, you peasant. Cease this unsightly nattering and leave me be."
Harry's frown deepened. That was not a memory he himself had witnessed before. He managed to hold back his shock on realizing that it was actually Marcus Flint's memory.
"Desist, you peasant. Cease this unsightly nattering and leave me be."
The shopkeeper quailed and rushed away. For a moment, Harry felt guilty, but the feeling passed as quickly as it came. He had been punished for enough undeserved guilt already. He picked up a newspaper and his eyes nearly popped out in disbelief. Only three years had passed since his imprisonment. Three years, for what seemed like an eternity of suffering. Had Voldemort achieved so much in so short a time? The magical world must have capitulated very quickly after Harry Potter supposedly murdered Albus Dumbledore.
But what about the Order of the Phoenix? Surely, they would have fought back. Harry suppressed the sudden onslaught of bitterness he felt at recalling his former friends. Sometimes, he wondered why he didn't simply give up and retreat to a life of seclusion, away from all the pain.
"I wish I wasn't so late… Goodbye, Harry, I never stopped loving you either…"
He knew why, he had to see Ginny Weasley one last time. He had to find out from her what happened after his trial. What had she been so late for?
"I never stopped loving you either…"
Then, why hadn't she voiced it. Why did it take three long years for her to come? A single word of support would have made a world of difference to him. The need to speak to Ginny was becoming more of an addiction than alcohol for him. Harry read the headline.
Hogwarts Rebels Hold Firm.
Harry read the article with interest. The wards of Hogwarts were yet to fall, but it was besieged.
Despite the overwhelming defeat of the Defenders of Hogwarts in the Second Battle of Hogsmeade, which saw the rebel forces being crushed by a horde of giants and trolls, the castle still holds firmly against what they must know is an inevitable certainty. Among the deceased were the rebels' last remaining warriors of renown - Alastor Moody, Charlie Weasley and Rubeus Hagrid. However, the wards of the castle seem to have passed on to yet another traitor to the Monarch.
The new Undesirable Number 1, Ginevra Weasley, has persisted in criminal activities and treason against the Monarch of Great Britain. The last surviving member of the disgraced family, Ginevra is most notorious for the murder of the Monarch's Chief Advisor Severus Snape in a one-on-one duel, shortly after breaking into Azkaban.
Harry froze. He let go of the paper. The Weasleys were all dead, except Ginny. Oddly, despite their eventual treatment of him, Harry felt a sense of loss. They were good people, who were deluded by the most powerful wizard of their times into believing Harry was guilty. After all, they had heard his confession under Veritaserum. Would he himself have been unable to let go of such evidence?
"I never stopped loving you either…"
Harry screamed in frustration. He had to meet Ginny Weasley. But how could he? He was a Death Eater. No, not just any Death Eater. He was the Death Eater who had killed Harry Potter. He couldn't simply barge into Hogwarts and ask the witch what she had meant by those words.
"Are you all right, Master Flint?" the bookstore owner asked, but the concern in his voice seemed rather strained, as if a negative answer would be more well received.
Harry drew himself up and looked at the man. Another fleeting memory surged to the top of his mind.
"I am suspicious of the new proprietor of Flourish and Botts."
"Old Elphias Dodge? You must be truly getting old, Rabastan. Old Elphias is an open book. There is no deceit in him. What do you think, Rodolphus?"
"I am with Rabastan, Avery. But there is no evidence yet. It won't do to take unfounded accusations to the Monarch."
"Indeed not. Flint, you are awfully quiet."
"Dodge used to be thick with the Weasley twins. I do not know if it was simply because they had shops next to each other or something more."
Harry's heart raced. It was undeniable, Flint's memories were accessible to him. Elphias Dodge, wasn't that the name of one of the Order members? The opportunity was too good.
"I am not all right. Nothing is right. But it soon will be," said Harry, grudgingly accepting the destiny placed upon him by Albus Dumbledore. Images of the atrocious deeds committed by Death Eaters were in his mind. They had to be brought to task. "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good."
Dodge balked and took a step back in fear. His face was pale, and he was shaking with anger and fear. "Where - Where did you hear those words?"
But before Harry could respond, he felt a searing pain in his left arm, and gasped. It was the Dark Mark. He was being summoned by the Monarch. Harry turned to the storekeeper, who had raised his wand at him.
"Put that down, you fool. Remember my words," he said ominously. "Dumbledore is not as gone as you all think. He is dead, yes, but he still fights through strange and powerful weapons."
Without another word, Harry swept out of the store. He waited several seconds for memories on where to go to come to his mind. Then, with a distinctly Flint-like sneer, Harry Potter apparated to the Castle of the Monarch, The Serpentine Tower.
His insides squirming, wondering whether he had been detected, or would be detected, Harry gradually walked the long path. He marveled the construction. It was nothing as foul as the name suggested. It was a grand and majestic castle, although it paled in comparison to Hogwarts. But it was located in a more central part of the country, and the weather was much more pleasant.
Harry walked inside and bowed at the entrance. The Monarch was sitting at the far end. Few were allowed to get closer to him. Harry squinted his eyes but couldn't see him very well. Fifty paces, that was the closest anyone was permitted to come to the Monarch.
"Marcus Flint, my faithful servant."
The Monarch's voice was loud, though it wasn't raised. It pierced through Harry almost as sharply as it had about five years ago when he had risen from a cauldron. Not much had changed about the man except the new title he had acquired for himself.
Harry bowed deeper, avoiding eye contact completely.
"You have taken care of a rather irksome affair for me," the Monarch continued. "Despite being locked in Azkaban, Harry Potter was a potential threat. I am most pleased."
Harry pretended to ponder, while trying to force his mind to bring up Flint's memories for an acceptable response.
"I live to serve, My Lord," Harry said, stifling his disgust at the very bottom of his mind.
"Indeed. I have a reward for you." The Monarch raised his hand and snapped his fingers.
Harry nearly jumped, thinking the Monarch was casting a curse on him. But instead, he heard a swooshing sound accompanied by a young girl's screams. He forced himself to remain calm when he recognized the person that had been summoned, not gently, from an inner chamber.
"You foul monster!"
"Silence." The Monarch's very word was laced with magic and Gabrielle Delacour was unable to hear her own voice afterwards. "This is your reward, Flint. A young unbroken maiden of veela descent. You may do as you please with her." He waved his hand in a sign of dismissal.
Harry bowed again. He walked to Gabrielle, hoping he could somehow convey the message that he didn't intend to hurt her. But he knew that was impossible. So, he had no option but to use his magic to move the girl with him. He made for Flint's home, which was as large as any of Voldemort's faithful Death Eaters could expect following his rise to ascension as the Monarch.
Harry observed Gabrielle in length. She was young and spirited. He held back his disgust at the memory of what Flint had done to young and spirited girls in the past. He frowned, trying to recall her age. She was about eight during the Triwizard Tournament. So, she couldn't be more than thirteen at the moment.
Harry turned aside. She was yet another innocent who would have suffered under the tyranny of one madman. He was confused. He had borne the brunt of the world's apathy. Then, why did he still fight for them? Why did he still want to be their Savior, especially when none would thank him for it? To the world, Harry Potter was dead. What did he stand to gain by saving them? Was it even within his ability to do so, with his below average education, despite his uncanny ability to cheat death?
"It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."
"Stop that!" Harry yelled to the ghosts in his own mind. He heard something behind him and saw Gabrielle trembling in fear. He took a deep breath, recalling the events from his fourth year in Hogwarts. He had stayed behind to carry the very girl before his eyes back to the surface from beneath the lake. Was he still the same man? Did he still have the same moral fiber to give up his own task and stay behind for others, at whatever cost?
Harry poured a glass of water for himself and drank it. Then clearly, so Gabrielle could see there was no deceit, he poured another glass of water and placed it near her lips, letting her drink it. He wasn't ready to untie her yet. She would definitely be a fair handful, and he had too much on his mind.
What was the right thing to do? Fight the Monarch? Defend Hogwarts? Protect the innocents?
But why should he, when all he received in return from the world was nothing but derision and pain. The cold of Azkaban memories assaulted him again and he started trembling. No, the world had done nothing to merit his services.
"I wish I had been more courageous and fought for you earlier… I wish I wasn't so late…"
He threw his glass against the wall in frustration, shattering it into pieces. Water was insufficient. He needed more brandy. He noticed the fear in Gabrielle's eyes as he drank a large mouthful of the strong liquor, and repressed the urge to scream at her that she had nothing to fear from him.
Had Ginny really fought for him, despite being late? Why hadn't she been more explicit? Harry grabbed his head in his hands. He was confused. If only there had been one definite indicator that Ginny had been firmly behind him, the choice would be so easy.
"Goodbye, Harry, I never stopped loving you either…"
She had come to Azkaban. She had given him a chance to explain despite his confession under Veritaserum. Then, she accepted his words over the false confession. She had believed him. But even more so, despite her misgivings, she never stopped loving him.
"What should I do? What is the right choice?" he said out loud to himself.
"… if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory."
"Kill the spare."
"Not Harry!"
"Remember Cedric Diggory."
"Not Harry!"
"Severus…"
"Not Harry!"
"… I never stopped loving you either…"
"Remember Cedric Diggory," he whispered, not noticing the surprise in Gabrielle's face.
Harry stood up, a fiery resolve in his heart. He didn't fight for the world. He owed nothing to them. He would fight for himself. Lord Voldemort had crossed his path too many times, had hurt too many people, had killed nearly everyone he loved. Even if he had to face him and his armies all alone, Harry Potter would take the battle to the Monarch.
But was he truly alone? Didn't Ginny still live and control Hogwarts? Didn't she say she never stopped loving him?
Harry turned to Gabrielle, who looked at him with fear. She looked so small and innocent, Harry couldn't help but smile.
"I want you to listen to me carefully," said Harry. "I know you will not believe me at first, but I mean you no harm. I am going to take you to Hogwarts." He broke the silencing charm on her.
"Never!" Gabrielle screeched. "I will never take you to Hogwarts! I will never betray them!"
Harry grinned at her spirit and silenced her again. "Listen kid." Gabrielle drew herself angrily at being called a kid, despite her binds. "I am not asking you to take me anywhere." Why should he? Hogwarts was his home. "We can do this the hard way, but that will inconvenience you more than me. So do you want to walk or be carried with magic?"
Harry broke the silencing charm again.
"I will never betray Hogwarts!"
"Hard way, it is." Harry silenced her again. He grabbed her hand and apparated to just outside the perimeter of Hogwarts. His heart missed a beat when he saw the unmistakable form of Bellatrix Lestrange not more than a hundred feet away, overseeing several goblins. Hogwarts was indeed besieged.
Harry raised a finger to his lips urgently at Gabrielle, forgetting that she was unable to speak anyway. Slowly, he grabbed the girl again and disapparated to a much distant place. It wasn't going to be easy. He needed a real plan. The answer was so simple that Harry was amazed he didn't think of it sooner.
"We're going to the Shrieking Shack," he announced to a still silent and tied up Gabrielle.
Soon, he was climbing up the secret passage, after pressing the knot on the base of the Whomping Willow. He pulled Gabrielle up. Then, he turned around and smiled. He was home.
