A/N: So, new story... This post war world just popped into my head and I HAD to write it down. Just like with To Love a Hero, I got this complete rough cut for a storyline in my head when I figured out the universe...
Disclaimer: I do not own anything of Harry Potter or its characters. That honor befalls the great J.K. Rowling, creator of Potter and everything around it
Beta: The amazing Frida, on known as the wonderful writer Kefalion.
Summary: Voldemort attacked the Potters in '81, and actually died. James and Harry survived the attack to live on. However the world has changed. No longer is it easy to parallel light with good, and dark with evil. In this post-war society creatures and dark oriented people struggle to survive the oppression of both the Ministry and the Light. But now, the time has come to rise against this oppression and revolt to claim the rights that inherently belong to every person.
6:30 PM August 31st, 1996
Darkness was slowly falling over the narrow streets and alleyways that made up this rundown part of the city; a neighborhood in the outskirts of London hidden from the mundane population and avoided by the magical as if its inhabitants carried the plague and to them they did.
To them these streets were the setting of horror stories told in whispers late at night as friends lay together in their dormitories, safe and far away from the bitter reality.
For others these streets were hunting grounds; a place to go for a good bit of sport, a place where they could express their longing for violence.
But for those who lived here it simply was home. The only place where there was as much as an ounce of security and safety to be found.
A whistle pierced through the falling night, its tone unmistakable; the message clear for all who heard it. Once this whistle had been the signal of joy and laughter, the signal of a sneaky prank that had been played on unsuspecting wizards. Nowadays it was the warning cry of the Dark Alleys.
The effect the tune had was staggering. The street had despite the hour been bustling with life, now all the people froze as one and everyone hurried along as they tried to make it inside a building where they would find shelter. Once a room was full, the doors were closed, leaving anyone still outside to find for themselves. Mothers cried out of children as they had been separated in the chaos that was the emptying of the streets.
Within a minute the streets were empty, looking depressing in their desolate state. Litter on the ground and dark shadows growing deeper. Nobody was walking down the road anymore, except for a group of three girls. Before the sounding of the whistle the girls had been doing tricks, doing handstands and assorted acrobatic to the cheering of a small audience. They had not managed to get inside and now it was too late.
The threatening torches that were lighting up the white robes of those who carried them had already arrived.
Frightened and desperate the girls clasped each other's hands, trying to find a bit of courage and comfort, but they knew what would happen and that there was no escape for them. They could only pray that it would be over swiftly. They knew that their hopes and prayers were in vain. Those who were captured by the white robes were never granted mercy.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" An amused voice came out from under a white hood.
"I don't know, old friend. But it seems like there are little beasts fouling the streets," another voice answered the first.
"What is the policy nowadays for stray rabid beasts?" The first one continued.
One of the girls let out a small whimper, tears trickling down her face. It only caused the group in white robes to chuckle.
"Eradication," a third voice whispered ominously.
As one, the group pulled out thin, polished, sticks of various woods. The girls tried to back away, the sight of the wands sealing their fates.
It took three hours before the people in the houses couldn't hear them scream anymore.
Dawn brought the people out of their hiding places. The tortured scream of a woman pierced the air. Aletta, one of the beta bitches of the werewolf pack, sank to her knees in front of the blood pools and ripped pieces that once were here beautiful cubs. None of the three had even seen their sixteenth birthday.
Aletta's screams and crying were caught by her alpha. Fenrir Greyback, tall, wide shouldered, with an impressive mane of graying dark blonde hair, made his way to the front of the crowd of onlookers and mourners. He cursed loudly when he saw Aletta screaming in front of the corpses of her children. His highest beta stood next to him with a grim face. The once gentle intelligent man would not be recognized by his former friends. His face had broadened and hardened and the gentle golden eyes were now like stones. Scars littered the once smiling face. He turned to him.
"Get Sotiria," he growled to him. "She is the only one who can snap her out of this state."
The man, wolf, nodded and ran back to where they had come from. He knew he had to hurry if he wanted to catch her before her she went to work. After a confusing route through the back alleys, he came to the small, dingy door. Without knocking he threw it open.
"Sotiria!" He yelled through the one-room flat.
"Remus?" A woman stepped out of the bathroom. It was clear she was about to leave for work. In her free time, she wouldn't be found dead in the white and red provocative outfit. But she was forced to wear the revealing skirt and blouse to work. Her dark red locks fell in waves over her back. Her eyes, the color of blue tourmalines, looked at him inquisitively.
It's Aletta," Remus said heartbroken. Aletta's cubs were the pride and joy of the pack. They had been highly intelligent, and the oldest was only a moon away from her first breeding choice.
Sotiria paled. "The girls?" her voice shook. Remus nodded.
Without another word, Sotiria threw on a heavy coat, concealing her 'uniform'. Together they made their way back to the spot in the main street. The crowd had thickened in the ten minutes it had taken Remus to get her.
Wordlessly the people made way for the duo. The silence the crowd exuded was a harsh contrast with the desperation that could be heard in Aletta's screams and pleas.
Sotiria sank to her knees next to the desolate mother.
"Let," she whispered, grabbing one of the mother's arm with two surprising strong hands. At the contact, the woman turned and buried herself in Sotiria's embrace.
"They killed them, there's nothing left of them. They're gone! I don't even have bodies to bury," were some of the sentences intelligible between her cries and sobs.
Sotiria stared at the pools of blood with a stony mask. Her eyes, the color of the deep ocean, were glittering with fierce anger and the bile of injustice rose in her throat. She closed her eyes to the sight that was so familiar in its horror.
"Let, come on. Let's go to Greyback, okay? Let your pack take care of you," Sotiria mumbled at some point. She was late, very late for work and knew it was going to cost her. The death of the children would be laughed at by her employer, not mourned for.
With some effort she managed to hoist Aletta back on her feet. Slowly they stumbled to the imposing figure that Greyback struck. Remus softly took Aletta in his arms, taking over consoling the bereft bitch of the pack.
Sotiria and Greyback stared at each other for a long time. Greyback seemed reluctant, where Sotiria stood regal and tall. Her heritage was unique, even in a place like this. It gave her authority, not just because of its rarity, but the High Elves were thought to be eradicated centuries ago. The ethereal features of her kind which had been praised in poetry in the days of old, were now the reason for her bringing in gold to the families that desperately needed it.
"This needs to end, alpha," she spoke slowly. Greyback shook his head in frustration. Did she think he didn't think the exact same thing?
"And how do you suppose we do that, Sotiria? We are wandless, defenseless! The wards around this place make it impossible to leave, except if you have a job on the outside like yourself. We are trapped like rats on ship! We must survive, as best we can. There's nothing more to it." Greyback slumped his shoulders in defeat.
A small hand rested on his lower arm. He looked into the face in front of him. The rage and hate that shone through her eyes were awe-inspiring.
"This will end," Sotiria spoke with such conviction, fuelled by anger that for a second Fenrir was swayed to believe her. But the blood still wet and red on the cobblestones forced reality back in his mind.
"No, it won't," the alpha spoke wistfully, slowly turning around and walking to where his pack tried to offer some comfort.
Sotiria looked as he walked away, the once proud werewolf a symbol of their feelings of hopelessness and defeat. With a sigh, she turned the other way to start on her way to work. She snorted to herself, Sotiria last of the regals of the High Elves, working in the dark place called Lustful Beasts. Yes, really she needed to make her way to work.
Fifteen years, fifteen years of fear and horror and exile. It had been rough. Everyone had been ecstatic, or angry, at the death of Voldemort by the hands of a toddler. Harry Potter lost his mother in the attack, but gained the wizarding world their freedom.
If only it had stayed that way. It hadn't been long before the Ministry had started to pass laws and decrees, isolating everything and everyone with dark or creature heritage. It started with small things; they weren't allowed to use the Floo network at certain times, not allowed to apparate at certain places. They had to register with the Ministry – not that Sotiria ever had done so – and they had to register their wands as well.
Then came the harsher laws. They weren't allowed in certain employments, only the lowly jobs were still available to them. They weren't allowed in Gringotts (the goblins immediately began to make house visits and created vaults elsewhere), their vaults were seized. In the end, they were denied the rights of legal representation, carrying wands, and living in places of their own choosing.
Thus Dark Alleys was created. Well, not created, just inhabited. They were dark, rotting, and falling apart. There had been no sewer system there at the time, no plumbing, no market for food, simply nothing. They were herded together and the borders were warded, making it impossible for them to escape.
Of course there was resistance. Sotiria had been a part of it. The vampire clans still evaded the Ministry, but they were hunted down fiercely by the Aurors and by vigilantes. Bringing in fangs to the Ministry gave you a galleon per fang. Of course the lower clans were eradicated, the remnants of them living in the Alleys. In exchange for blood, willingly given, they did their best to protect the inhabitants of the Alleys at night.
The last to be thrown in the Alleys, were the werewolf pack of Greyback and Lupin. There were rumors of another wild pack, living in the woods of Wales, but no names were ever attached to those rumors and the best known wolfs were in Greyback's pack.
Lupin had been a curious wolf back when the ostracizing first began. Now he was one of the fiercest protectors of both the pack and the Alley, a strong wolf ready to defend his claim and position (and never losing such a challenge). But back then he had been a broken-hearted wizard with lycantrophy. He had lost one of his best friends, Lily (Harry's mother), and was betrayed by one of his other close friends all in one night. On top of that, Lily's husband, his good friend James had known that he was a werewolf and despite his position in the Ministry as Lord Potter, father of the Boy-Who-Lived and high-ranking Auror, he did nothing to stop the persecution of creatures and dark wizards, the death of his wife having closed his heart and mind to tolerance and forgiveness.
She could admit that it had been a difficult time for the Potter Lord. He had put his trust in one of his close friends, Peter Pettigrew, only to have him run to Voldemort at the first opportunity. James had been lucky. The Killing Curse had hit not his body, but the ground in front of him. The impact had thrown him into a wall, knocking him unconscious.
Remus and James' other best friend, Sirius Black, had found them. He had been the one to propose Peter as Secret Keeper, offering himself as a diversion. The sight of James lying in the middle of the hallway turned Black's heart into ice. He had woken his friend up and together they had searched the house for James' wife and child. They had found them both in the nursery.
James had broken down upon seeing the corpse of his wife. Sirius couldn't bear to look at her, and searched the room for his godson. He had found him, unconscious. But that was not the only thing he found. Next to the infant lay the body of the Dark Lord. He was dead, killed by his own rebounding curse.
Sirius looked at the boy in his arms. It was his fault that he had lost his mother. He was the one to come up with the brilliant plan to use Pettigrew as the true Secret Keeper. If he hadn't proposed it, he would be the Keeper himself. And he would have died before giving up the Potter's location.
"I'm sorry, pup. I'm so sorry, I'm sorry!" Sirius murmured desperately in the boy's hair, blocking out the heart-wrenching screams that his best friend, his brother, let loose upon his loss.
After a while Harry had woken up, bringing Sirius out of his trance of guilt. Looking into those green eyes, Sirius made an Unbreakable Vow to magic herself to always be there for Harry, no matter what happened.
An hour later, the Aurors appeared and Pettigrew became the most wanted man in magical Britain.
During the period after the fall of Voldemort, James had taken his hereditary seat in the Wizengamot. Sirius had stayed in the Auror office, wanting to be as far away as possible form politics. He would later come to regret that decision.
James had turned cold after Lily's funeral, closed off from emotional bonds with anyone, including his own son. Slowly, James began to turn away from his friends. He made small derogatory remarks about Moony, sneered about the Black family. He helped pass the laws through the Wizengamot that made it impossible to live for Remus. Sirius had tried to persuade his friend to look at things the way he used to, to no avail.
Even though the Dark Lord had fallen, the dark families were too powerful still to become the wizarding world's scapegoat, so, in a masterly political maneuver, Bartemius Crouch Sr. had started to proclaim how vampires and werewolves had aligned themselves with Voldemort. From there it spread to everyone with a creature inheritance in them.
Most of the werewolves were either poor, or lived outside of society, and the vampires looked in disdain at the wizarding world. It was the perfect ploy to keep those with power in place.
It had been James himself who issued the arrest warrant for Remus, because he hadn't registered as a werewolf with the Ministry. It had been pure luck that the warrant had crosses Sirius' desk. He had flooed to Remus' house, explaining with trembling knees what was about to happen. Sirius saw no other way; Remus had to flee the world he always had been a part of.
Knowing Remus would need the best protection, he had begged his friend to seek out his sire's pack. The two had made a blood promise; Sirius swore he'd do his all to protect Harry from the cold and cruel man James had become. Remus swore he would not roll over on his belly. He'd fight the Ministry tooth and nail.
It had taken everything for Remus not to break down. He'd never see his cub again, would never have his best friends with him again during a full moon.
His sire, Greyback, welcomed him back in his ranks. Remus had saved his alpha on numerous occasions, solidly winning his place in the pack. The scars that ran vertically over his face were caused by James Potter, as he tried to slice his alpha with a silver sable. Remus had jumped in between, saving Fenrir's neck from being sliced through clean. Though if Remus was honest, it had more to do with the betrayal from his former friend.
But not the entire wizard community had been against them. The Dark families had stood by them, and stood by them still. Having found small holes in the wards that helped them pass in and out of Dark Alleys, they provided as much food and healing as they could. Many of their children had grown up coming in and out of the Alleys.
There was a Light supporter as well; Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts school of Wizardry and Witchcraft. It was the only title he still had. He had, had to step down as both Supreme Mugwump in the International Confederation of Wizards and as Chief Warlock in the Wizengamot. His last vestige was Hogwarts, the school for those who were allowed to carry wands.
The reason he had been so marginalized was that Albus didn't agree with the course the Ministry was taking. He feared for the souls that were eradicated and ostracized. He had tried to persuade both public and politicians not to go through with this line of policy. But it had been in vain. Instead of listening to the once 'leader of the light', he had lost his positions of influence because of it. The Hogwarts curriculum was not established by him but the committee of examiners and the board of governors. He had therefore no say in what the youngster learned in his school.
This was the world Sotiria lived in these days. She was young, especially for her kind. But her mother had died at the hands of Voldemort and her father, former leader of the Elves, had been cut to pieces by the Ministry's executioner after he had killed the head of the Aurors in a fierce duel. The Ministry had no idea that it was the Regal High Elf they executed. Therefore they had no idea of the curse they had cast over wizard society. Sotiria's revenge would come upon them one of these days.
With only forty summers behind her, she still had a long life ahead of her. And her father had taught her one of the most important things; patience, to wait until the times were right to stand up and reclaim your weapons and fight. The wind spirits were telling her that this time was nearly here, nearly.
So it is in these dark and constricted times that we turn to Hogwarts, where the students have just arrived for the Opening Feast. It is on this day that Dean Thomas, formally thought a half-blood wizard, drank the mandatory Revealing Draught in front of the rest of Gryffindor House and the staff. And it is at this feast that for the first time in his life, Harry Potter starts to doubt all that he had been taught in his life.