Leaving

Theodor Nott was standing in the Throne Room,his eyes closed in fear.

Morgan was standing in front of him, ready to mutter whatever spell her Grandfather had decided she should.

Harry tensed. What should he do now? He had to do something...

Well, anything would be better than just staring.

Morgan spoke. Her voice was calm, eerie, barely above a whisper.

"Obliviate. Stupefy."

Nott collapsed, while Harry looked on, incredulously, not believing what he had just seen.

Had Voldemort really just ordered her to just wipe Nott's memory and not kill him?

"Bella, take him to the dungeons. Make sure he can't speak. Don't wake him up before you reach his cell."

"Yes, my Lord."

Nott was carried away, still unconscious.

"Well done, Morgan. Harry, I'll have to talk to you."

John Smith really, really hated his name. Why on Earth had his parents thought that "John" was a good first name when the last one already was "Smith"? He'd had an inferiority complex since he could remember.

No matter, he'd made something from himself. He was a primary school principal now, in Whinging's Primary School for Youngsters, and quite proud of his career.

The only problem was that he would need more teachers in the next few years.

The Order meeting was continuing, everyone giving their opinions, what should be done, what the others should think and do, and especially - what should be done with Harry Potter.

"Harry has to have a reason. I mean, he isn't the type of guy who just turns around and sticks a knife into your back. We should listen to him, at least." Ron Weasley.

"You're delusional, Weasley. He's become a cold-blooded killer!" Michael Corner.

"That statement would be more accurate if he actually had killed anybody." Hermione Granger.

"Oh, you're just agreeing with your boyfriend. Face facts, your pretty boy hero won't come back. He's gone. I know I wasn't always the nicest to him, but he's a Death Eater now. He tortures. There's no way he can be just forgiven for some flimsy excuse." Ernie McMillan.

Soon after that, the Order meeting turned less into a meeting and more into a battle of "Harry deserves at least a chance to explain" vs. "Potter's a Death Eater, you nitwits".

Crouching under the table, Albus Dumbledore idly wondered why the Order never achieved anything, and hoped he wouldn't get hit by anything that had been conjured and was now thrown by the feuding parties.

Tom and Harry were sitting in Harry's living room, while Morgan was of the firm opinion there was no better seating are than Harry. He'd made coffee, for both of them.

"So, Harry, I wanted to talk to you."

"What do you want, my Lord?"

"Stop with the 'my Lord'. Both of us know it isn't true. You don't serve me. The only one you'd serve is at the moment trying to drink your coffee."

Morgan looked up.

"Aw, Grampa!"

"Morge. That's my coffee. You're too young for coffee."

"But it tastes good."

"It isn't healthy for you, young lady. No coffee."

"Aw. Please?"

"No. How about you go read a book in the library?"

Morgan stalked away, slamming the library door.

"So, what do you want to talk about?"

"It's... complicated. You do know that Morgan was Made?"

"Yes. And I do know you both heightened her intelligence and her magic levels, as well as... well, I don't quite know how to put it."

Tom sipped at his coffee.

"The cutesy effect. She's likeable, even more than other children her age."

"Exactly. Why?"

Harry tried to think of scenarios that allowed for this conversation.

He couldn't find any.

"Because it didn't influence only you. Have you felt... different since you are in her presence?"

Harry thought.

"I haven't done anything stupidly reckless lately."

"Wormtail made a small mistake when Making her. We didn't think anything of it, but I'm pretty sure she has the gift to, well... to make others think things through. To give out common sense."

"And?"

"My mind... well, I've never been the most stable person, but prolongued influence of her presence, it gave me common sense again. Asking questions such as 'Why the hell am I doing this?', my mind pointing out that I've never really wanted to be a Dark Lord, and now, well, I'll need your help."
He had never wanted to be a Dark Lord?

"Why?"

"I want to go away. Flee. Stop being a damn Dark Lord. I'm not able to fulfill the job requirements anymore, I'm not batshit insane any longer, and frankly, I'm fed up with it."

Harry didn't quite believe it.

Morgan had managed to bring the Dark Lord to a point where he wanted to give up his job?

"What do you need?"

"Call me Thomas, okay? I've always liked it better than just plain 'Tom'. I want to go into the Muggle world, and I want you and Morgan to come with me."

"Why don't you ask anybody else?"

"Because most of them are batshit insane, like I was. I think Bella's getting better, and she could come too, but I'm pretty sure no one would appreciate it."

"So... you want to quit being a Dark Lord and start living as a Muggle."

"Yes."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm not sure yet. You're going to help me?"

It wasn't a difficult decision. It was hell on Earth or safety for Morgan and a halfway-normal life.

"I'm in, Thomas."

Thomas. So now, he and Thomas started plotting. Going undercover - the Muggle world awaited them.

They were looking at the house. It was big, true, but it would need a lot of renovation.

Well, they would have had to put some effort into it, anyway.

Their new address: Evan's Lane 10, Whinging, on the very outskirts of the town right besides Little Whinging, called "Whinging".

They would have to come up with a name for their new home.

"So, have you thought about what you're going to want to do?", Harry asked Tom.

"I thought about redoing some of my education, you know, getting credentials, and then... well, I thought I could try a job, but I'm not sure what yet."

"Well, what did you want to do when you were little?"

"You're gonna laugh."

"Come on."

"I always wanted to be a teacher."

Harry looked at Tom.

"Actually, I'm pretty sure that's a good idea. You're brilliant with Morgan."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

"And what are you going to do?"

"Well, get credentials, as well, and then... I've got no idea."

"You're gonna find something. Hey, maybe, you could teach, too."

"I don't know, maybe."

The ritual was nearly complete.

Three...

Two...

One...

And out stepped a handsome man, in his late forties, maybe.

Thomas Myrrdin Evans, he'd decided on as a name, while Harry kept his, just like Morgan hers.

Their official story was that they'd spent the last few years in a war zone, since Harry had been a child, and yes, Morgan was his daughter and his late love's, who'd been Tom's daughter. Tom's "wife" was dead as well.

They moved into their new house in the dead of the night, having it properly warded in the months before.

No one noticed their disappearance until it was too late to get them back.