Smoke curled around the air, as a man circles the stones at the center of a circle older than many of the countries in the world. His hands waving through the air as herbs, blood, and sparks fall all around. Lights in shapes of writings from empires lost to time circle around him.
Slowly he stops his movements as energy fills the air. He lifts his head, bright almost glowing green eyes sweep across the horizon as creatures of untold horror are held back by a glowing shield.
Sighing he flicks out his fingers as the center of the circle he is standing in, lighting the last of the symbols. "I hope this works." Light explodes around him, sweeping away everything from his vision. Stars and celestial bodies fly around him as pressure builds on his body and mind.
A pained scream rips itself from his mouth, tears in his dragon hide armor gush fresh blood. Teeth clenched in obvious pain, blood leaking from his gums, gashes line his body, and then almost as if nothing happened it stops. The world around him stills unnaturally, the creatures and rune-words gone. All signs of the ritual are erased as he stands for only a few moments, strength leaves his taut frame as the pain disperses. Moonlight framing him bloodied and gaunt. Years of fighting and famine taking it's due.
The quiet of the area allows him to let his mind wander back to the reason he's here in the first place. Slit red eyes, attached to an inhuman frame. A monster who took his parents, a monster who killed his friends, the monster who destroyed the world. As the quiet surrounds him, the air fresh and clean, lacking the burning scent of death and evil that had tainted his world for so many years. He thinks back on the life he had known up until this moment, the years of adventure, death defying or not, at Hogwarts. His friends who supported him and fought with him against the forces of evil. Moments of such short triumph after the 'final battle', where he believed his foe defeated, and his future limitless.
It only took a few days for the satisfaction of victory to wash away into horror as once again his life was plagued by Voldemort. Not surrounded by his sycophants, but by monsters, creatures not of his world, grotesque and ugly, limbs unlike anything he'd seen, with too few appendages or too many eyes. Many lacking even forms giving a semblance of normality. They had fought again, but slowly the battles turned into retreats, armies summoned from places beyond human knowledge. The non-magical noticed quickly, attacking and defending, making progress at first but slowly losing ground. The creatures were limitless in number, growing ever more plentiful while the people of Earth could not increase their numbers fast enough.
It wasn't just the numbers, the creatures, demons, monsters, they plagued the land, corrupting and defiling anything they laid their hands on. Waters turned stagnant, lands ran fallow. Eventually the world died a slow and insidious death. Humans marshaled to the farthest reaches. The wizarding world and non-magical world join together hoping and praying they could over come it together. It had been pointless.
Fire, blood, and death.
Now here he stood, commander of the anti-demon army, leader of the wizarding world, chosen of fate to destroy the darkest lord in all of human history. Harry shook his head removing the thoughts of his failures. His mind arts reinforcing his will and suffocating the pressure of his loss.
His current mission is to fix what would be broken and hope he could stop Voldemort in time. He took a step forward and instead of Stonehenge, he found himself near Charing Cross. People bustling about, even so late in the evening. His eyes soaked in the foreign yet oh so familiar landscapes. His form hidden from the non-magical people. Slowly his steps brought him to the Leaky Cauldron or where it should be, but as his eyes scanned the buildings ahead no sign of the Leaky Cauldron anywhere.
"Whe-" words tumbled from his mouth turning into a major coughing fit, as his scratchy and dry throat protested the usage. He quickly conjured a glass of water to get his cough under control. After vanishing his glass he waved his hand again. 8:37 P.M. March 9th 2007 appeared in orange lights. Confused by the year, 2007 was years after the fall of the United Kingdom, he sent out his senses, searching for anything magical. At first there was nothing, but as his awareness spread he found a link to something old, something powerful that connected to more further than his senses could reach. He stepped forward again, finding himself facing a large building, wards of such power he was gob-smacked.
As he stood there, the door, and thus the wards, opened allowing him to see a man in monk robes wave him inside. Cautiously he steps into the building, a large double staircase dominates the foyer, entirely lit by magical flames in candelabras and chandeliers. The man who let him in walks off through a side hall as two people appear at the top of the stairs. A man, old in age missing an arm carries himself with dignity, and a young yet old feeling woman walks beside him. Harry can feel the power rolling off the woman, light and airy but tainted with stagnation. His eyes narrow at her as they get to the ground floor.
He watches through the side of his vision as the old man wanders down the same hallway, his eyes never leaving the woman in front of him. "You know, you are one of the few people I will ever meet that dismiss Master Hamir as the one in charge."
"Yes, well I doubt there are many who can feel the power flowing through you like I do. Feel the stagnation" His eyes never leaving hers.
Her eyebrows raise in surprise only for acknowledgment to seep through the expression on her face. "Well I know you came searching for answers, but why stand in the foyer? Let us go and have some tea." She walks off to a side room without waiting to see if he would follow.