The Price of Betrayal
Chapter One
The wind howled through the ruins of Hogwarts. Ash and dust clung to the shattered stone, the last remnants of a war that had left the Wizarding World forever scarred. Fires still burned in the distance, flickering against the broken walls like dying embers in a hearth long abandoned.
Harry Potter stood at the center of the destruction, his emerald eyes dull, his magic a storm raging beneath his skin. Blood stained his robes—some of it his, most of it not. The Elder Wand felt heavy in his grip, its power thrumming in time with his heartbeat.
Victory had come at a cost.
And now… it meant nothing.
His so-called friends had betrayed him.
Ron, Hermione, the very people he had fought for—had bled for—had turned on him in the aftermath of the war. Jealousy. Fear. Greed. Their reasons were irrelevant. They had whispered behind his back, plotted in secret, and finally made their move.
The Killing Curse had come from Ron's wand. A coward's attack.
But the Master of Death could not be slain so easily.
Harry had felt the spell as it struck him, had felt the magic twist and recoil, as if reality itself refused to let him fall. His power had surged, his very essence unraveling the threads of fate.
And then Death had come.
A voice had whispered to him from the void, an ancient presence that had walked beside him since the moment he had defied it in infancy.
"They have turned against you, my child. This world has nothing left for you."
The rift had appeared before him—a tear in the fabric of existence, pulsing with energy far older than magic itself. It called to him, beckoning him forward, away from a world that no longer deserved him.
"A new beginning. A world untouched by your pain. Walk forward, my chosen, and be free."
Harry had not hesitated.
The last thing he heard before the world shattered around him was Death's whisper.
"They will never find you again."