Warning: There are mentions of domestic violence in this chapter. I tried to not make it graphic. Also, if you have suffered from it, I am sorry for you. I will be honest, I am not sure how realistic it is, and honestly, I would hope something like what I wrote is not realistic, but I am not that naive.

It was shortly after the Second Wizarding War that Harry Potter, now dubbed The Man Who Conquered, found out all the machinations of one Albus Dumbledore. Dumbledore did not care a wit about the welfare of Harry, not even in the slightest. All of the situations that the boy was connected to, were all attempts for murder by proxy.

Dumbledore had long known of Voldemort having horcruxes, including during the First Wizarding War. He had been hunting for them for a long period of time, but prior to having heard the prophecy, he had yet to find one. That was the reason why Dumbledore had never truly put in an effort to defeat Voldemort. If he had actually attempted to end the war early, Dumbledore could have prevented countless number of lives lost, including those of his own soldiers.

It was not until after the fateful night where Harry Potter had defeated Voldemort that he had found one of the horcruxes. Dumbledore could have ended the life of Voldemort by then, as he had found a very simple ritual created to destroy all of the soul pieces at the same time. But no, no Dumbledore could not just simply let the essence of Voldemort disappear. No, he would let Harry fall at the hands of Voldemort, and then He, the defeater of Grindelwald, would swoop in and finally defeat the Dark Lord, in a seemingly exhaustive battle. His fading star would once again rise to pinnacle of fame.

The start of Dumbledore's machinations started on October 31st, 1981. Voldemort never killed either of the Potter adults, merely stunning them. He convinced the elder Potter's, with his silver tongue, that the only way for them to be safe, was to separate their child from them, and for them to go into hiding. He did that without even the most minor of Compulsion Charms to convince them. It did not help the Potter's that it was their glorious leader, Albus Dumbledore, who could do no wrong, that was the one that suggested that.

From their, sending young Harry Potter to the Dursley's, who Dumbledore knew for a fact would brutally abuse the boy, would allow him to mold him into an ignorant, self-sacrificing martyr. Dumbledore first manipulated the Weasley family into being minders to limit they boy's inquisitiveness, which was not a difficult task in the slightest. As for Harry's second minder, one Hermione Jean Granger, who the boy saved from a troll, it was even easier. Due to the girl's authority loving nature, and love for any extra knowledge, it was even easier to gain one more follower. Between the bigoted Ron Weasley, and the annoying Hermione Granger, it was simple to push away any other person that would want to develop a friendship with Harry, the weak-willed boy.

Having kept the boy friendless and ignorant, Dumbledore's two puppets constantly led the boy into dangerous situations, which he frustratingly, to Dumbledore, kept surviving. Unknown to Dumbledore, the prophecy kept Harry Potter alive, as it would have been Dumbledore's hand that would have killed the boy. In fact, due to the manipulations of Dumbledore, Harry Potter could not be killed by Voldemort. If it were not for the prophecy being true, and active, there would have been no way for Harry to kill Voldemort.

It was not until nearly a month after the defeat of Voldemort that James and Lily Potter, along with their heir, seven year old Williams Stanley Potter, climbed out of the wood work. Of course they claimed that their disappearance was solely due to Dumbledore needing to train up Harry so that he could finally defeat Voldemort. Somehow the Wizarding World lapped it up, and believed everything they said.

"Mom, Dad, you… you're alive?" The words barely came through Harry's mouth. "But, but, you're dead."

James sneered at the boy, no the man, and said, "Obviously we're not."

"Can't you see that? Idiot," came from his mother's mouth.

As Harry had still been suffering from the effects of the war, he was still not in the right frame of mind to analyze the situation. "O...okay. So, what now?"

"Incacerta." Shouted James Potter. "We bind you from your magic and then send you to Azkaban for the rest of your life. We'll just tell the media that you are going into seclusion, because, of course, you are going to be recovering from your time in the war. Some time in the future, we'll tell them that you couldn't deal with what had happened, and committed suicide."

"We'll, of course, act depressed, and all that. But, we'll push through it all, and do everything to honor your legacy." The words that Lily were speaking came sweetly through her mouth. "We wouldn't have had to do this if you had just died like you were supposed to."

"All the things you lived through, Albus kept us apprised." James smirked with those words. "All because you failed to die, we had to suffer being hidden away for all this time. Now, now we'll be free. You can suffer in Azkaban like we had to suffer all those years."

Harry Potter, the Man Who Conquered, stripped of his magic, woke up in the dismal accommodations of Azkaban, sealed away from his magic. Of course anger at the injustice of his situation was the only thing that he was feeling at this time. More than any other time in his life, anger flowed throughout the body of the young man. A chink in the bind, that the Potters' incorrectly cast on the man, allowed Harry's magic to start pushing through, the anger fueling his magic's power.

Slowly, more and more magic seeped through the bind. Finally, with a sharp crack, the bind broke. While Harry knew that he had the one bind on his magic, he was ignorant that their was more than just that one. A cascade of magic swept through his core, destroying other binds on his magic, and all the other abilities he possessed.

Even with the initial binds on his magic, Harry was nearly equal in power to what Voldemort was at when he died. With the binds removed, his magic dwarfed that of Albus Dumbledore. Though Harry had never practiced wandless magic, with the power of his magic core now unlocked, difficult that it may be, was unlock his cell door.

Without the binds on his abilities, and without the soul shard in his head, Harry's thinking was much analytical than it had ever been. He realized that though he was powerful, he did not have the knowledge to properly punish his traitors. No, he was not ready yet to dole out his justice. Harry would bide his time in hiding.

Ten years ago, Harry 'died', nearly a year after having been imprisoned.. Or, at least that is what the Potter family believed. Harry had, in reality successfully transfigured a simulacrum or his corpse.

With his now unlocked metamorphagus abilities, Harry created a new identity, with a very generous donation to the goblins. With a nod to his innocent and ignorant godfather, and his ode of vengance, Harry's new identity became Morgan Hala. Morgan, being a diminutive of Morrigan, a shape shifter that liked to take the form of a canine. And Hala, Arabic for vengeful person.

Morgan had kept tabs of the British Wizarding World during this time. The Potters' had seemed to become royalty in their society, with the Weasley family becoming their handmaidens. While to those outside of the know, it was an idealistic scene. To Morgan, he only felt more and more disgusted at their actions.

The Potters', in their position of power, reformed the British Wizarding society into a utopia for muggleborns, stripping away the power of the ancient families, of course excluding those of their allies. Within the decade that the Potter family accrued their power, they destroyed generations of traditions that they seemed to find offensive.

Those who had their powers stripped from them, especially with them being ancient families, saw the writing on the wall, and started to escape from Britain. With their persons leaving, they started to divest from their businesses, businesses that had been monopolistic staples of their society for centuries. While it was financially painful for those families that left, it seemed to be the only way for them to not to have their fortunes and investments from being stripped by them. For the rest of Wizarding Britain, though not seen initially, it started to initiate an economic downturn.

It was around nineteen years after the defeat of Voldemort that Morgan came into contact with someone that had been part of his previous life. In a darkened part of Knockturn Alley, a once beautiful and vivacious Fleur Weasley nee Delacour was lying in a pool of blood, broke, bruised, and beaten. Though she was a Weasley by marriage, she had been a reliable and trustworthy friend. A sort of fear of being in contact someone he once knew, Morgan apparated with Fleur to his current residence.

Though he was not an actual healer, Morgan had basic skills that he had learned during the war, and some books that he had acquired since then. It was a close call for Fleur. If Morgan had not found and started to heal Fleur, she would have died within minutes. Still, she was not out of the woods.

Due to the state of damage that Morgan found her in, and then aggravated with the apparition, their was limited number of options that Morgan, or any healer, could do to help the woman out. The wounds she had suffered, spells to heal, and the apparition had caused her magic core to become volatile. If it were not for it being an emergency, Morgan would have sent her to St. Mungo's to be healed, instead of using his measley skills. At this point in time, with her core in a dangerous state, she would have to heal without any magic. With the wounds that still had not been healed, transporting with muggle methods could still be fatal. She would have to remain where Morgan brought her, until she was fully stabilized.

For the past two weeks, Fleur remained in a coma due to the trauma she had suffered. Morgan had continually cared for during this time period. Without knowing what caused her to be in this state, he had not dared to contact anyone about her state that he found her in. And during those two weeks, not a single person had sent an owl to contact her, including her husband. It was worrying.

"W… where," came a whimper for Fleur.

"Fleur, I found you injured. I brought you here and healed you." Morgan said to her.

With barely any volume Fleur attempted to ask the mysterious person a question. "Who…?"

"My name's Morgan Hala. Though I'm not a qualified healer, I did what I could. I didn't have time to take you to St. Mungo's." Morgan calmly explained to Fleur. "Is there anyone I can owl for you? Your husband? It's William Weasley, correct?"

Though weak, the horror at hearing that name was seen on her face, further paling her already pallid skin. "NO."

He grasped her hand and relaxing stroked it. "You're safe here. If you don't want me to contact him, I won't. Is that fine with you?"

Weakly Fleur nodded to the question, exhausting the remaining energy she had. Morpheus claimed her.

Though she had healed enough that she could be moved by mundane means, with her core still being in flux, Fleur was continuously gave off strong waves of the veela allure. This would mean, that if she was around muggles in a hospital, the allure would be dangerous to her safety and continued healing. With that, and no choice, Morgan unfaltering remained caring Fleur through her convalescence.

Through the days that Morgan cared for Fleur, she slowly awakened more often and for longer amounts of time. Even though that Morgan was curious on what had caused her to be in the state that he had found her in, he never pressed her for answer. The only thing that he did was let her know what her state that she was currently in and reassure her that she was healing, slowly though that it may be. Ever so slowly her bouts of wakefulness increased in both how often and on how long.

Since she incurred her injuries, it had been over two months. Two painful months. Though, finally, even with all the injuries that she still had, her magic, though still in flux, had finally started to help to heal her quicker.

"If I haven't said it yet, thank you. You've been really kind to me. But why? Why would someone do all this for someone they don't even know?" Fleur questioned her savior.

Morgan did not answer right away. Though neither of them had delved into their pasts, they had become to a have a fairly amicable relationship. The friendship that he had with her as Harry, was now there with Morgan. In all truth, he had been with her longer as Morgan than he had been with as Harry, at least if you only considered speaking to each other.

Hesitantly at first, and then increasing tempo, he finally responded to her. "I wish I could say that anyone would do this for a stranger. But I'm not a naive child, and neither are you. I am going to give you a calming draught before I share more." As calmly as he could, he started to explain. "You're still injured. What I will say, I'm sure of, but it will probably distress you. It will slow down your healing a bit, but if you are willing I will give you my answer. Is that what you want?"

Fleur chewed on her bottom lip for a few seconds before responding. "Is it that bad?"

Morgan carefully thought out his answer before finally responding. "I don't think it's bad. But… I hope you would see it as a good thing."

In response, Fleur gave a reluctant nod. "Please."

After having given a dose of calming draught, he asked a simple question. "Do you remember Nymphadora Tonks?"

"Vaguely. I know her son better, slightly."

Morgan started to tell his story by bringing up one of his abilities that had been bound. "Do you know that she had a rare skill? From what I know, she passed it on to her son."

"Metamorphagus." She whispered to no one. With what Morgan had stated, she realized what he was hinting. "This… this is not your real appearance?"

"That is correct. You knew me." He started to explain. "I have not lived as my original self in nearly twenty years."

"Did I know you?" Though Fleur presumed she knew the answer to her question, she still asked it.

Morgan nodded his head, and then verbally responded. "You did. I was even at your wedding. Other than a handful of goblins, my original identity is considered dead. This is why I'm explaining everything slowly."

"You're British? Yes?" It was a simple question, but it would help to narrow down who this person was.

"Yes, Fleur, I am British."

Fleur thought through all the people that she knew that had died two decades in the past. "The only people at the wedding that were British, were either Death Eaters or were part of The Order."

"I am not a Death Eater, and never has been." Morgan reassured her that he had not been an enemy during the war. "While I was never an official member of The Order, I was still a part of it."

It had been a long time since the war, even then she had still thought about it from time to time. "There are only a few people that I can think that fulfill those parameters."

Instead of ripping off the proverbial bandage, Morgan decided to let her slowly come to her conclusion. "I will give you one last hint. Everyone commented about the color of my eyes."

For most guys, most people do not consider their eyes at a prominent feature. For Morgan to bring this up, this had to be a big clue on who Morgan actually was. While she could not remember every single person in The Order, the only person that she could think of… "No. It can't be. 'arry?"

Morgan had been very self-assured the whole time that Fleur had been healing, she saw a sense of dread in his face. "...yes."

This was beyond anything that Fleur could believe. Everyone knew that Harry Potter had committed suicide. He was dead. "'arry Potter?"

"Yes. That is what my name was for the first half of my life." Harry gave Fleur a simplistic answer. "I have been Morgan Hala for longer than I was Harry Potter."

Fleur thought of everything she knew about Harry Potter, and she realized that she really did not know that much about who Harry Potter actually was. She did not know, but she wanted answers. "Explain."

"You are still healing, and even with the calming draught, I don't wish to over stress you." The few words were the preamble to a very basic answer. "The people that claimed that I died because I committed suicide know the falsity of that fact. That's all I'm going to say about that today. I know you want more answer, but I want you to think over what I said. I will give you my story in small amounts, if that is what you want."

Instead of bringing up Morgan's past the next day, Fleur started her history. "It was William that hurt me."

Though her voice was steady, Fleur started to tear up. Seeing this Morgan calmly, like always, replied to what she said. "It's not your fault. I know that it doesn't help, at least not now. But, just know, it's not your fault."

"I hear what you are saying, Morgan." Even though Fleur now knew that Morgan was Harry Potter, she was only thinking of him as Morgan. "But…"

Seeing that she was unsure of what she thought, Morgan added a finish on what she was thinking. "But you don't see it that way. You are thinking that, at least in some small part, that it is something you did wrong. If you did something differently…"

Fleur felt ashamed, and barely whispered, "Yes."

"He wanted an heir. I could never give him one." She then started to continue on about what she was saying. "If only I wasn't a veela, I could have given him his heir."

Hearing what Fleur was saying, Morgan felt anger for Fleur. "And Bill knew you were a veela when you married him. Knowing you, I'm sure that you told him that you would have a smaller chance of having a male child. It is his fault."

Though Fleur knew that Morgan's words were the truth, she had lived in with her thoughts for too long. "I carried Victorie to term. One girl was plenty for him. After that…" Though she had been tearing up for a while, the sadness finally overwhelmed her.

"I'm sorry for what I'm going to do, Fleur. I don't want you to hurt yourself." Saying that, Morgan transfigured the sheet that covered her into form-fitting, unmovable restraints. The only single he could safely do for her, was to gently brush his fingers through her and give a chaste kiss to her forehead.

It took her a few minutes for her to calm down enough so that she calmed she could continue on. "Thank you. I don't deserve what you are doing for me."

"Yes you do, Fleur."

"It was the wolf in William. That's why he is the way he is." Fleur tried to defend he husband's actions.

"Fleur, I shouldn't tell you this, but the Weasley's, all of them, they all let their emotions control their actions."

"You're wrong!"

Morgan knew that she knew that he was speaking the truth. But she was lying to herself. "The passion that you fell in love with, it was just one side of him. While he was courting you, he didn't let you see his negative side. I'm sorry to say, you married while you were still to immature. And you know, at least in your head, that I am right."

Abuse victims often try to find fault in their own self to explain to actions of their abusers. And Fleur, she was abused. Like in a lot of case of abuse, Bill Weasley started off small. There were arguments, and he started yelling. At first, she fought back. Eventually, too exhausted to argue back, she just took it. Unconsciously, Bill being a STRONG man, started seeing Fleur as weak.

From verbal abuse, it went into emotional abuse. Bill prohibited her from forming friendships, and made her break existing friendships. Eventually it went into preventing her from contacting her family.

Bill enforced his wants by getting physical. Grabbing her wrist with the totality of his strength, leading to him forcefully dragging her behind him. From there, physically forcing her to follow commands led to slaps, into eventually punching and kicking her.

Of course, he always apologized. It was just the wolf, even though he was not even a werewolf. He did not have control over his actions. He was the victim. It was the wolf that caused him to be fired from Gringotts. The wolf prevented him from getting another job, it was not his fault.

It was the wolf in him that lusted after women. Of course, if it were not for the wolf, he would have never considered another woman. A veela was not worthy enough for the wolf.

And Fleur, she just took it all. It just became a way of life. And her precious daughter, just saw all this and turned away from her weak mother, turning to see strong women like her Aunt Hermione and Grandma Molly.

Months came and went, until just slightly under seven months when Fleur's core was finally healed enough that she could be properly healed by means of magic. During this time the story of what had happened as Harry Potter had been told in truth. He shared all the pain and suffering that he went through, along with all the joys. The revelation of the betrayals in his life had physically sickened Fleur. From there, he had explained the meaning of his name, which she agreed was fitting.

Due to the nature of the wedding ceremony that Fleur went through, other than death, there was no way out of it. Morgan did honestly offer his services in ending the marriage. For some reason, unknown to either of them, Fleur rejected Morgan's offer.

After another month of healing, with the aid of outside magic, Fleur was as healed as could be. In all that Fleur had been healing, not a single attempt to contact her had arrived. Not her parents, not her daughter, not her husband, nor any of the other Weasley's. There were too many broken bridges too reestablish her former relationships. For all intent of purpose, she was dead.

As Fleur had no connections that she wished to continue, and with an offer from Morgan, they began their travels, with the intent to eventually enact revenge against those that harmed them. With some of the arcane knowledge that Morgan had accrued and the rusty curse breaking skills of, they found various troves of lost and forgotten knowledge. Most was utterly worthless. It was maybe 1% of what they had found that had any type of value, be it in knowledge or in wealth.

For the next forty years Morgan and Thetis, the nom de guerre the Fleur called herself, continued their journey and studies. The friendship between the two grew into true romance throughout the years. Though they had never married, in the sense of magic, or even in the legal sense of the muggle world, they lived as if they were married. Anyone that knew them had just assumed that they were married.

During all this time, they had found numerous options that would have been useful at the times they were betrayed, but would not be fitting so far removed from when the punishments would be effective. With how far the Potters' and their allies had debased a once glorious society, they had seemed to become so entrenched in being righteous that society refused to believe any negative thoughts against them. Somehow they had survived throughout the economic depression that they themselves were the cause of. They had simply just blamed it on the families that were driven out by their crusade.

At the time at which Thetis and Morgan neared one hundred years of age, they had for the most part on their quest on getting revenge against those that had betrayed them, long in the past. It was a saying that time healed all wounds. And to a certain extent that was the truth. Though they had lived hard lives in the beginning, the ones they forged for themselves, they had become a fulfilling ones.

Even though they had resigned themselves that in their lifetime they would never complete their goal of revenge, they still went spelunking into long forgotten sanctuaries of knowledge. Tomes and scrolls rich in practices fallen to the wayside due to being too arduous for the common witch or wizard.

There was information on how to train magic, prior to a person's magical core becoming stabilized, which happened towards the end of adolescence. A person properly trained, incantations, movements, and even spells became superfluous. Also in the pair's accumulated collections, were exercise to train a person's mind into becoming more adept at being flexible in sorting through and acquiring information. Like with the forgotten training with magic, the training needed to be done at an early age, while it still had some plasticity.

Though, neither Morgan nor Thetis had participated in any ritualistic magic, as the costs of most rituals had a cost that they did not find worthwhile paying, they still perused through them whenever they were bored. Like with ritualistic magics, all other types of magic had some type of cost associated with them. With spells considered light, the costs were mainly exerted on the physical body of the caster, primarily costing them weariness. As for darker magics, the costs were based on the mentality of the caster, making them temporarily more susceptible towards negative emotions. Properly trained, and not over using darker magics, their were no long term negatives to using those darker magics.

"Morgan, stop what you are doing and look at this." Fleur had been perusing through one grisly tome, the cover being made from human skin, when she noticed a ritual, while not particularly dark, would be considered illegal by all Wizarding societies. Translated roughly, it was called The Gate of Cronus. If what she was translating was correct, it was a form of time travel. Instead of sending a corporeal body back in time, it sent the memories of the participants back.

In Greek, the language of the country they had resided in for most of their lives, Morgan responded back. "Yes, love? What did you find this time? Another form of sex magic?" Though not married, the two had often been intimate with each other. Yes, they did use magic to enhance their mutual pleasure. Thetis, for her sake, was excited whenever she found another new form of sex magic.

He had called her out for her lustful ways, which always drew a blush to Thetis's face. "Yes I did, but that's not what I'm excited about. Come over here and look for yourself."

When Morgan paced over towards Thetis, she shifted the tome towards him and pointing out the specific ritual she found. Morgan's eyes drew wide as he slowly translated the words in his head. Understanding dawned upon his face as he understood what made her so energetic. "Thetis, you are getting lucky tonight."

A giant grin graced the face of Thetis, wiping away the years that she had earned. Though they had passed their prime, Thetis still contained the beauty of her heritage. Along with the beauty of Veela, she possessed the insatiable lust that made them a target of obsession. "Don't you mean you are getting lucky?"

"Not this time. I will worship your body, in every… way… possible…" Morgan's voice came out huskier and huskier as each word was spoken, speaking in Thetis's ear.

With a shiver throughout her body, her breath started came in small gasps. "I… I should never shown you how to put magic into your words."

"But… you… love… it…"

"Damn you, but I do." Thetis paused for a minute, to control herself, before she continued to speak. "Do you think we should try this ritual? I know we both have given up on revenge, except to waste away our breaths, but…"

"But, only because it is out of reach. I've been Morgan Hala for so long, but… but I still regret not being able to be a Potter. And I know you." Morgan looked at Thetis's face. The longing to not be forsaken from her family.

"I miss them." A tear slid down Thetis's face as she thought about her family that she had thrown away because of her marriage. "I want, no, I need to do this."

Morgan gave Thetis a small nod, in agreement. "Then we have work to do. But first, I have something else to do."

The lust that Thetis had willed away a few minutes early, came back with full force. "Yes you do. Now, worship your goddess!"

One hundred and five years is what the pair calculated that the ritual when send their memories back to the past. This was based on the prime numbers of three, five, and seven, and also being the closest to their current age. Even though they had made a small fortune due their forays into ruins, the cost of the ingredients, illicit or otherwise, would nearly wipe out all they had earned, that is with selling antiques that they had previously wished to keep.

Along with wasting all their wealth, Morgan and Thetis made plans into when they would go back to, and what they would do when they came back. Thetis's biggest thing that she did not want to change was the birth of her sister, Gabrielle, who was six years younger than her. Three years younger than Morgan. It would still give her five years to train her skills prior to going to Beauxbaton.

While Thetis initially wanted to wait till Morgan would be closer to eleven, so that he would not have to relive the abusive life of the Dursley's, the earlier they started their training, the more benefit it would have in their lives. They had the knowledge and maturity of age, but they would have the body and magical cores of a youth.

Morgan, as Harry, would have around eight years of life to train, prior to going to Hogwarts. Luckily, it was not until he was a year shy of going to primary school, that he had started to suffer the physical abuse of Vernon. Add on to that, the worst of the abuses he suffered, was due to accidental magic, something that he would be able control. While it would not be a good life, he knew that he would be able to live with it. And he would become stronger for it, in the long run.

At the age of one hundred and eight, for Morgan, and one hundred and eleven for Thetis, all things were set for the two to finally send their memories back to their younger selves. On the ice shelves of the Arctic, at the convergence of three major ley lines, the ritual site was set up. They had decide, as a pair, that performing the ritual would be best if they as far away from humanity as they could. There was a lesser chance of someone noticing the gathering of magic

During the apex of a new moon, the pair initiated the ceremony. With the desert like conditions of the Arctic, though cold, outside interference would be mostly negated. The circle had been completed earlier in the day, all that was left was to draw the runes, that the ceremony needed, on each other's nude bodies. ...and to synchronously chant a long incantation.

While the moon starting to set, the effects of the ritual started to show. The amount of magic infused throughout the area started to give of illumination with an essence of electricity. Magic constantly sparked circuitously throughout a pattern, if seen from above, that drew a lemniscate. Faster and faster the magic sparked along the route, with the pair being at the center most point.

Though the magic was becoming blindingly bright, Morgan and Thetis determinedly and unceasingly remained steadfast. Straining, as their magical cores were bombarded with the foreign magic, they remained strong in their pursuit. Too live their lives back in the past, or to die, they were not distracted.

At the penultimate moment, all the magic the pair channeled throughout the ritual collapsed towards the pair. Magic, a normally silent force, screamed at the effort that the two had been putting into it. And then… silence.

To the cosmos, there was no longer a Harry Potter, nor was there Fleur Delacour. They were no more.