Chapitre 1: Chapter - 1 : The Beginning
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Harry's life consisted of a series of unlikely events. Faced with basilisks, Dark Lords, and killing curses, the only certainty to be had was that he would never be normal. So while Harry had dared to hope that once Voldemort was defeated, peace would follow, it was inevitable that the opposite turned out to be the case.
The idea of Pureblood Superiority did not die alongside Voldemort. The Death Eaters remained in control of the Ministry and, in the chaos following the Dark Lord's defeat, managed to free those who had been captured during the battle at Hogwarts. They quickly made their power felt, passing dozens of laws supporting purebloods and suppressing Muggle rights. The Death Eater regime met with little resistance from the public; their bigoted beliefs were popular and had gained legitimacy over the previous year. Those who would have protested had already been silenced. Only a handful of witches and wizards joined the Order in fighting back, but those who did were vilified, hunted down and even killed by the Ministry.
Harry, his friends, the DA, and the Order found themselves alone in their fight against an entire society. There was simply no way for them to win; for three years after Voldemort's death they continued their futile struggle, losing too many good people with nothing to show for it. The Death Eaters' control over the Ministry was unshakeable, Hogwarts was a school for the Dark Arts, and there were only a handful of Muggleborns in Britain left alive.
After the capture and execution of eleven Order members, among them Neville Longbottom and George Weasley, the small group of survivors finally admitted to themselves what had been obvious for years - they had lost the war. The remaining Order and DA members, along with their families, decided to leave Britain and restart their lives far away from the memories of death and bloodshed. They scattered across the globe, no more than a handful going to any one place as a precaution against their locations being discovered. Seamus, Dean and Ginny picked Canada; Andromeda took Teddy and moved to Romania with Charlie Weasley (a pairing which raised a few eyebrows); and Arthur and Molly decided to travel to Brazil for a second honeymoon and to recover from losing yet another of their sons. Eventually Harry, Hermione and Ron were the only ones left on British soil.
"Sure you don't want to come with us, mate?" Ron asked again. "Maybe you and Ginny could-"
"No, Ron." Harry shook his head. His relationship with Ginny was over for good and while he would miss Ron and Hermione, he was firm on not going to Australia with them to join the search for Hermione's parents.
"I just don't get why not," Ron said.
"It's not too late to change your mind, you know," Hermione added.
Harry sighed. "I told you. The Death Eaters won't stop hunting me and I don't want my presence putting you two in danger." That wasn't his only reason, but it was the one he thought they'd accept.
"Oh Harry!" Hermione lunged forward and smothered him in a hug. "You never change, do you?"
"Well, I'm taller than when we first met," Harry joked as he hugged her back.
Ron snorted. "Not by much. You're still a midget compared to me."
The three friends grinned at each other. The nature of their friendship may have changed over the years - an inevitable result of fighting a war and Ron and Hermione starting a relationship - but some things stayed the same.
"Take care of yourself, Harry," Hermione said fretfully, no doubt picturing all the trouble Harry could get into if left to his own devices. "Oh dear, maybe we should stay…"
Ron groaned and rolled his eyes. "Here we go again."
"I'll be fine," Harry said. "You should go, Hermione. Find your parents, settle down, marry Ron and have a dozen red-haired children."
"Well if you insist…" Hermione gave him a wobbly smile and dried her eyes. "I'll miss you."
"I'll miss you, too," Harry said. "Good luck, both of you. Name your first son after me, yeah?"
Ron clapped Harry on the shoulder. "That's a promise, mate."
Moments later Ron and Hermione disapparated, leaving Harry standing alone in the entrance hall of the Order headquarters.
If he were brutally honest with himself, Harry knew there was nothing left for him here in Britain. Yet he couldn't bring himself to leave it all behind. How had it come to this? How had everything gone wrong? How had he fulfilled the Prophecy, but lost the war? He obsessed over every wrong decision and missed opportunity, trying to find answers.
Surely he or Dumbledore or someone could have chosen a different path and prevented such a terrible outcome. Surely there was something he could still do, some way to keep fighting, some strategy he'd overlooked. That was the real reason Harry had decided not to join his friends - for him the war wasn't over yet. He simply couldn't imagine happily living his life somewhere far away, complete with a wife, children and a white picket fence, while Voldemort's followers ruled Britain.
Instead he had decided to stay in Grimmauld Place and to wait for any chance of bringing down the Ministry. His self-imposed isolation was mostly spent practicing spells he found in the Black library and drinking too much – while always hearing Hermione's voice in his head nagging him to put down the firewhisky and sober up. The loneliness and sheer tedium were almost too much to take, but forays into the muggle world kept him sane and gave him a sense of purpose. That was one thing he could still do – save as many Muggleborns as possible.
He kept watch for any rumours of magic and occasionally managed to find young children who had yet to be identified and arrested by Snatchers for the ludicrous crime of 'stealing magic'. Harry visited the families and got them out of the country, either through honest persuasion or the use of compulsion spells. Each life saved renewed his determination to stay.
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