Disclaimer: The rights of Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling and Warner Bros. Iam making no financial gain from this story whatsoever.

Summary: Harry's sent to the future. Wait, don't run off. This is different from the other time-travel stories. One, it's to the future, which I haven't seen too much of. Two, Harry won't be going back to the past in this tale. He finds himself in the middle of a war opening up between the wizards and muggles, and between the wizards themselves. The Ministry has become a totalitarian regime, causing the people a lot of strife. Voldemort may be gone, but there's always trouble to contend with for Harry.

Author notes: I value criticism and praise. Please take a couple of minutes to actually tell me what you like and/or dislike. Is the story going too fast or slow? Are the characters interesting? Would you prefer longer chapters, which would mean longer times between updates? Or shorter chapters with quicker updates?

This story will be finished and updated as frequently as possible. I'll try to keep a chapter per two weeks. Worse comes to worse, at least a chapter a month. But that wouldn't be usual, hopefully. I dislike long delays, and hate unfinished stories.


Prologue

Voldemort fell to the ground, his eyes expressionless. He died with no fanfare, no crowd to watch him fall. He died as ignobly as his many victims. His quest for immortality had ended just as violently as it had begun.

Harry staggered, unable to stand properly after the fight. They were alone, aside from Pettigrew's seemingly dead body nearby. Hogwarts loomed over them, devoid of people.

Oh bugger, thought Harry, that didn't go as he had planned. Actually killing Voldemort was far more difficult than finding the horcruxes. Thankfully, it was all over.

Unfortunately for poor Harry, trouble seems to find him, even when he was in the most hidden of places.

A groan came from Harry's side. Displaying his highly trained abilities, he had his wand out in the direction of the sound within a second.

"Master," moaned a pitiful, bloody heap.

Once again disproving the evolutionary fact of the strongest surviving, Pettigrew was still alive. Harry lowered his wand. Pettigrew couldn't even hurt himself in this state. He deserved to die, left on his own. To watch what he had betrayed everyone for destroyed, while dying slowly in the process.

Or did he? Harry thought. For the second time in his life, Harry Potter was contemplating sparing the life of his parents' betrayer, the reason why his life had love missing.

That hesitation allowed Pettigrew time to raise a wand Harry hadn't seen. Before Harry could move, the dreaded Latin words were spat.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The green light hit him while he was still bending his legs for the jump. Pain engulfed him in the centre of his body. The pain was just as unphysical as the Cruciatus. Hot coals seemed to have been pressed on his chest. The pain spread across his body, until he was engulfed by it.

Harry screamed, wishing it would end. Let death claim him; the pain was too much to bear.

And as one of the ultimate clich├ęs goes, then it all went black.