-8-

Harry glanced at the tanks with a smirk on his face. The tanks were like something out of a horror movie, if one envisioned Peter Cushing's Frankenstein working with modern medical technology, with three large tanks filled with a bubbling liquid that was green but had traces of red and blue inside.

All of the tanks had a growing body within. They were infants, curled into the fetal position, with a white cable hooked up to them through the belly button like an artificial umbilical cord. Diligently Harry examined each one of them, waving his wand to scan their bodies, checking the temperatures and the rates of their growth. The bodies were young now but that meant nothing to Harry.

They were his clones.

Two of them were boys, but in a desire to experiment he had changed one of them, tweaking its chromosomes around so it came out as a female. When Harry was at Hogwarts, he was fascinated with the concept of immortality, and when he found the Room of Requirement he found dozens of methods, but his favourite method and also the most practical seeming, as it allowed the soul of the wizard or witch to switch bodies which would make everyone out to get them to think they were dead, was essence transfer.

Essence transfer allowed witches and wizards to transfer their souls and their powers to a different body. Immediately labelled a dark art when it first appeared, because radical and powerful witches and wizards had used it to steal the bodies of their victims and enemies as an act of spite, the art was considered lost.

But Harry knew it wasn't lost. The Flamels used essence transfer; the Philosopher's Stone was a con trick and had been for centuries now. The Flamels were alchemists, and they had the ambition to become immortal and rich and famous. They were young and untempered by wisdom, but they were practical. It became clear to them that over the years they'd experimented with different potions which could grant someone a few extra years, heal different injuries, and turn metals into gold, but they couldn't connect them.

Once they realised that, it was almost too late. The Flamels had spent so long trying to become immortal through an elixir of life they nearly died, and they were close to death. In those days, essence transfer was an almost widely known method of immortality before the magical authorities shut it down, but they used clones, derived from their bodies. It worked. In the end, they just merely used a Philosopher's Stone to turn metals into gold, and that was it.

Harry was the only other person who not only used the essence transfer method but knew of the secret of the Flamel's deception. Why would they have parted with something so important? He'd been thinking about that for a long time before he discovered the truth in his second year.

As for him…

Well, he planned to get the life he wanted, by any means necessary. He was going to gain his freedom, by transferring his soul into one of the clones, and live out his life in a new, although he was unsure if he was going to erase his memories or keep them so he could be truly free or if he would remember forever. He just was not sure.

He wasn't sure if he was going to go through with this now.

He didn't know if he was going to do it in a few years, but he would keep the clones on hand if he needed to, and he would maintain a link with them if he went down that path, but if he did then he would be pleased to just travel the world before he came back and he'd decide there and then if it was worth it or not, or if he should just keep them for another few decades in a kind of perpetual suspended animation.

Once he was finished checking the status of the clones in the tanks, he checked on the golems he was creating. There were twelve of them, they would be used for the next stage of his plan. In this case, however, Harry was not hesitant.

He was going to make the magical world pay.

-8-

Dolores Umbridge was seething even as she returned to her home. "Elf," she yelled in her simpering voice, smirking to herself even as she shrieked through her house the pathetic little beast shaking with terror at the sound of her voice. But he never came. "ELF!"

Again, there was no sound or sight of the little creature, but there was a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye. Umbridge turned, and in a split second she saw glassy green eyes, followed by a flash of pain and then it all went dark.

Dolores Umbridge knew no more.

-8-

Remus Lupin paced up and down in his cabin, looking around the devastated room, clenching and unclenching his fists so hard until the skin split. Harry…

Harry was innocent, the whole time.

While the werewolf was a self-pitying pity party on legs, he had spent years obeying Dumbledore, while warring with the beast within about abandoning the boy; while the human side of him obeyed and listened to Albus Dumbledore, the werewolf was inwardly tearing to pieces for his cowardice for abandoning his pack.

It had changed when Dumbledore had offered him the DADA position for Harry's third year, the werewolf was sated; at long last, he would be with his cub, but the pathetic bastard he was forced to share his existence with had continued to obey Dumbledore and looked for signs of the boy going dark even if the werewolf wanted nothing more than to grab Harry and make sure he was safe.

And now…

The werewolf wished fervently he could tear through the pathetic, weak-willed, weakling that was Remus Lupin, and tear the pathetic piece of cowardly shit to pieces for not even trying to help or protect Harry, not once. He had not torn the slimy bastard Snape apart despite having two separate opportunities to do it, never mind help Harry when he was on trial.

The werewolf perked up when he smelt something while his human weakling half was just too distracted to pay even the slightest shred of notice, but he was puzzled. The scent was Harry, but it wasn't. It was a fake, but then the wolf caught the scent of something dangerous….

The werewolf barely had time to react before he smelt not just his former cub, but a trace of silver before everything went black.

-8-

Cornelius Fudge was working feverishly as he tried to think of a way he could save his career from the whole mess caused by the blunder he'd caused by sending that blasted Potter brat into prison. Bones was already coming down hard on him, and so many of his political allies and friends (bribers) had been revealed to be Death Eaters who had not repented in the least, but many more had been killed in waves, and Dolores was now one of the dead.

So many people were dying, the deaths were seemingly random, but they were occurring so often that there were now a handful of people dying each day.

Fudge perked up, wondering if he could save himself by convincing everyone this was Potter's fault, but as if someone else was looking into his brain, he felt two strong arms wrap themselves around his throat so quickly before he could even shout, scream, or even grab his wand, he felt his neck being twisted around….

-8-

Harry stared at the burning remains of the Burrow, watching as the whole thing was lit up in flames like the Wicker Man from that movie of the same name. Like many other houses and manors in the magical world, the Burrow was protected by wards, which included a ward which prevented fires from breaking out.

The Weasleys were a family he had taken care of by himself. The magical world was simply too vast and there were just too many enemies out there to deal with by himself, so he had created the golems he had kept in touch with via a mental window. He had watched in glee as he had killed Lupin, Umbridge, Fudge, and half of the survivors of the wizengamot, but with the Weasleys it was personal. He had saved them for himself alone; he had arrived close to the Burrow, transformed into a raven and he'd flown in. The Weasleys hadn't stood a chance when he'd summoned their wands to him and destroyed them. He had killed Arthur, Molly, Fred, George, Charlie and Ginny, and he'd gotten lucky; he knew of the Order of the Phoenix thanks to reading his mother's diaries, and he had gotten lucky today, and he'd killed Sturgis Podmore and Daedalus Diggle (he remembered the latter, he'd shaken his hand when he was young…and it resulted in a brutal beating), though why the two members of the Order were here, Harry neither knew nor did he care. The good news was he had killed them all, but his revenge was far from complete.

-8-

Hermione Granger was scared out of her wits. Not only were people being killed in the magical world, but the Weasleys had just been killed as well. The Burrow had been set ablaze, and by the time anyone had got there, it was too late. Bill and Percy were the only surviving members of the family, having been at Gringotts at the time of the murder.

As she paced up and down her bedroom, ignoring the fact she was terrifying her parents, who were scared already - her discovery that Harry was innocent the whole time had resulted in her screaming in anguish; it was bad enough she had betrayed her first and only real friend when Dumbledore persuaded her to spy on him, telling her he needed to know Harry's every single move, because he was potentially dangerous and she needed to help him.

Looking back on it, especially now he was found to be innocent and You-Know-Who and his followers were dead with their magic extracted - there was no doubt in her mind at all that Harry had something to do with it - Hermione knew she had made a massive mistake, but she had wanted to protect Harry so badly, and her greed for knowledge which Dumbledore had played on, had won out.

Things had just gone so badly for her last year, with Harry just walking away from her and Ron because Dumbledore had told them Harry needed to know he had to depend on them, but there had been signs of Harry being more than aware of them spying on him for a long time.

And now, Fudge was dead. Umbridge was dead. The Weasleys and two members of Dumbledore's Order were dead, and so many more people had died since.

As much as she hated to even think about it, Hermione knew Harry was the one behind the murders. It made so much sense, and Harry had many reasons to kill them all. She just never imagined he would do it, and she started to think Dumbledore might be right.

No.

Hermione closed her eyes, ashamed. Dumbledore was not right; Harry, if he was the one committing the murders, was justified by what he'd gone through. There was no way he was going to walk away without making people pay. Hermione had seen a dark side to Harry, it came from the years he had been abandoned, alone.

"Hello, Hermione," a familiar voice said.

Hermione swung around, stifling a scream of fright when she saw Harry standing in her window. "H-Harry, how did you get in here?"

"I just arrived," Harry stepped into the room, folding his arms.

Hermione swallowed in terror. "Please, don't kill me," she begged.

"Why shouldn't I? You spied on me. You betrayed me. I thought you were my friend, but we weren't, since you used me," Harry snarled.

Hermione closed her eyes, accepting her fate. But then her fire returned. "I did it because I didn't want to lose you," she said, her eyes filling with so much water he appeared blurred to her vision. "Dumbledore told me you had a dangerous destiny ahead, and I wanted desperately to keep you safe. You were the first and only friend I ever had."

"And what about the Triwizard? Why did you….turn on me like that?" Harry snapped, inwardly torn. He hadn't had any scruples killing the Weasleys, Lupin, Fudge, and the others. They meant nothing to him. But Hermione was different; unlike the Weasels, they'd shared a deep connection. It had truly hurt him when he learnt she was spying on him behind his back.

"I've been kicking myself ever since," Hermione was sobbing now as she shook with pain and terror. "Dumbledore wanted us to show you that you needed us. When you were accused of murder….I didn't believe it, but Dumbledore pressured me into saying all of those things, and after seeing so many people dead, it was easy to believe you had become a murderer."

"I never wanted to be a killer, Hermione. But I could not let people like Voldemort, Malfoy, Fudge, Umbridge and the other Death Eaters live."

"And the Weasleys, did they deserve to die?"

"Yes, they did. I found out Molly Weasley planned to give me love potions while she and her daughter got me killed, so they could steal my inheritance. That was all the Weasleys cared about, my family fortune. It never occurred to them to do an honest day's work in their life."

Hermione licked her lips. "If you're going to do it…get on with it, just do it quickly," she whispered.

Harry narrowed his eyes, "Sorry?"

Hermione huffed. "I said, if you're going to do it, then just get on with it, quickly."

Harry was silent, and Hermione began to get even more scared, not just for herself, but for her parents. She only hoped, if he was here to just kill her, he would leave them alone.

Actually, what was happening with her parents?

"No,. I'm not going to kill you," he said at last after a long silence. "Nor your parents. I want you to leave Hogwarts and Britain, and never try looking for me ever again. When you do go, then think about the poor decisions you've made, and learn from them," he told her.

Hermione gaped at him. "You're not going to kill me?" She pressed.

"No."

"But why not? After all, I've done to you? I betrayed you-."

"Yeah, you did. But unlike Black and Lupin, you did it with pure intentions. I'm not going to forget it, but in time, I might forgive you. Now get out of this country, for good, or I might change my mind."

Hermione gasped in shock when she watched Harry transform into a raven, and then fly out of the room with a caw.