Harry Potter had finally defeated Lord Voldemort. He had not gone with a quick disarming. Even with the seven years of battle training in the martial arts, along with learning curses, hexes, charms, wards and transfiguration. Even in those seven years getting experience in fighting during the hunt for the horcruxes. Even with the experience in that one year protecting the muggles, those three years fighting with the muggles and those final three years killing the muggles. Even being the master of death, with the unbeatable Elder Wand. Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort stood on the field dueling mostly only themselves for nine hours, before Lord Voldemort body finally fell to the ground lifeless. Harry Potter finally disarming Tom Marvolo Riddle of his head, held the head of the greatest dark lord up with one hand and shouted with an extremely loud voice, amplified by a sonorous charm, the defeat of the dark lord. The magical civil war over. Unfortunately, the magical civil war had destroyed the Statute of Secrecy, and the 3rd World War had begun just over four years ago. And in that war, there was no end in sight.
Thus, Harry Potter threw Voldemort's head away, slipped his wand into his wand sheath, drew the Sword of Gryffindor and stabbed the ground. Harry Potter with his entire weight on the Sword of Gryffindor, then waited until he was absolutely certain his allies were rushing toward him. Only then, did Harry Potter with his two hands, let go of the precious Sword of Gryffindor embedded in the Earth. Only then, did he allow darkness to claim him. What a mistake that was, a mistake he would regret for years to come.
Harry Potter stirred, and realized the end of Voldemort had finally come. The only outward sign of his enthusiasm was a brilliant smile. This smile was greater than any of the other five that he had smiled for the last six years. After all with this decisive victory, and the Death Eaters fighting for Voldemort's tightly controlled power, the war was definitely over. This smile celebrated all the other five smiles at the same time, and almost got Harry Potter laughing manically. This was better than when he had Antonin Dolohov bleed to death after he chopped off all his limbs for the death of Ronald Weasely back in 1998. This was far better than when he had saw Bellatrix Lestrange, killer of Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasely, dead after being tackled down the stairs by a mere muggle in 1999. This was far better than, the complete collapse of the neutral French governments in 2001. This was far better than the capture and eventual death of Draco Malfoy, after Hannah Abbott had brought him back to be executed as a fluffy white ferret in 2002. This was even better than the killing of Lucius Malfoy and the finding of Hermione Granger in a manor later in 2002. This was a final, absolute victory. That was until, Harry Potter was asked who he was.
Alarmed, Harry Potter eyes snapped open and saw the face of a middle aged woman. Her face and clothes were blackened with some dirt. Like the woman, the middle aged man in the background was wearing a toga like piece of clothing. Harry inwardly groaned, 'You kill a dark lord, the closest one to ever ruling the world, and the wizarding sheep abandon you to a group of muggles.'
The only up point Harry saw was the fact that obviously, these muggles had no idea who he was. Harry Potter was already planning escape routes when the woman stepped forward with a piece of bread and spoke, gibberish. Realizing he was in some odd country, Harry quickly with a wave of the hand cast a bulk translation charm, hoping the language would be recognized, thankfully it did. Harry politely asked "I'm sorry but could you repeat that?"
The woman smiled and said "You must be hungry, we found you collapsed in the middle of Londonium, right by Gaius' butchery, smell draws tons of strays don't you know? Don't be ashamed take it."
With a wave to her side she said "You can work it off by helping my husband Fabron in the shop. I'm Licinia by the way. Now what's your name friend?"
With a quick thank you to the woman, spitting out the name Hadrian Black, Harry took the piece of bread and began looking for escape routes form the home. Only then however, did he begin to notice what an odd place this was. It was a wooden hut, shabby as hell and yet there were no tell tale signs of the use of magic. This was odd because the only time Harry had seen the dirty floors of a building was inside Tom's Leaky Cauldron, and that only because magicals don't care. No muggle place would ever have a dirt floor. With a bit of curiosity and probing Harry asked "Fabron, getting ready for a toga party? It seems a bit dangerous in to be doing so but I suppose everyone needs to forget sometimes."
The question was rewarded with a paused silence and then a laugh, "You must be from up north, I've heard the violence up there is unreal. The Roman legions acting absolutely barbaric as the barbarians themselves! Can't really blame them though, Rome has stopped paying their wages. Can you believe that? Don't worry though, the legions would get in a mighty bit of trouble if they sacked the Empire's own jewel of the isles. You are in Londonium after all!"
Harry was taken back for a moment. Wondering on what island in the Mediterranean he was on, as he knew the Italians were doing their best to conquer it, Harry was then interrupted by an expectant look from Fabron, Harry responded, "Ah, of course, I just didn't expect those mainlanders to think the city was so important. Please just excuse me for a moment, natures calling you understand."
"The limits of men, of course, you had been out for two days! The pots are just in that closest over there. Though if you want to use the loo, it's only a few blocks. Just out of the house, turn right, and then when you see the cabbage seller, turn left, you'll see it."
Fabron smiled, turned away from me and then quickly whipped back around, "And don't bother with payment. Licinia, she's a good woman, but a right vixen, I'm an honorable man and I don't need compensation for this good deed. Let the world take you where you need to go friend. Mercury will no doubt continue your good fortune."
Thinking it was an absolutely ridiculous tirade, Harry still thanked him politely. Harry got out of the bed, stretching his extremely sore body. He watched Fabron leave the house, thankful that no one else was in it any longer, and then immediately began testing his body. He had just fought Lord Voldemort! After most big battles he had been out weeks! And he remembers that he had been in and out of consciousness for the last few days. Thus, he began stretching his body out, pumping his arms back and forth, and twirling them around and finally touching his toes. Then, he began carefully stretching his legs out by putting his weight on one knee and then the other, and finally by jogging in place. Everything seemed to work fine. Albeit sorely. Just no sudden movements and he would be fine he thought. It was obvious to him now, that a healer definitely got to him. Though the work wasn't completely fixed as of yet.
Then, Harry checked for his possessions. The greatest outrage was of course the fact his scabbard was empty. That pissed him off more than anything. Anything. However, Harry still had his vault and fortune that was shrunken down and hidden on his person inside a pocket of his cloak. Harry Potter truly still had a lot. He also still had his invincible, invisibility cloak of death that was currently invisible and the extremely ripped charmed black silk he was wearing. Ruined in fact. Basically, Harry had everything that he had at the last battle accept Godric Gryffindor's sword. Searching to make sure, Harry found everything was in order except, Ginny's ring. Drawing his wand he repaired the clothe. Thinking quickly, Harry realized that whoever had him deported from Britain, left him everything else, not even trying to find his vault that was hidden on his person. Why would they take his only non-hidden ring, symbolizing he was still mourning his love? Finally Harry thought of answer. A quick accio, knocked over a chest of drawers. Opening all the drawers cabinets, another quick accio brought his beloved's ring back to him. 'What a bastard of a muggle, no wonder he didn't want me to come back.' Harry thought.
Harry than pictured a spot in the Italian equivalent of Diagon alley near the Roman Coliseum and tried to apparate. Key word, try. As the power built up that was necessary, there wasn't enough, and feeling that voidish feeling, Harry Potter stopped and redrew his power back into himself. That in itself was ridiculous. Harry Potter in the course of protecting Paris after the fall of the incompetent French ministry and muggle government had apparated from Dublin. That's almost 500 miles away. If he was in the Mediterranean, he should be able to reach Rome regardless.
Sitting back down on the bed, Harry realized the man had said Londonium. Though, Harry didn't think the Italians had actually attacked England, as they had Germany to deal with, perhaps Fabron had misspoke and meant London. Harry shrugged, wondering how the Italians had conquered London already and simply tried to apparate to Surrey, it was worth a try. And anyone who had read Harry Potter and the Six Years in the Defense of Hogwarts would realize that he hated the Dursleys. No one would expect him to go there. Picturing the area, he immediately apparated…. To find himself in a forest. Bloody Brilliant.
Wondering if he was in the right place, he apparated again, to where he pictured the Dusley's front door was. This time, Harry felt that there was an object incoming when he was apparating, and thus had magic slide him into free space. Again, looking around, forest. Harry was annoyed. Very annoyed.
Picturing Fabron's house, Harry apparated back. Happy that no one was in the house, Harry opened the door to the house. To reveal an entire town of toga wearing people walking the extremely muddy streets. Harry finally cast an identifying spell on the language they were speaking, it was Latin. All of it was Latin. The buildings weren't even at the quality of the wizarding world, they were flat out shacks.
Quickly running out of options, Harry asked where he was to a vender across the street. The man started responding, but Harry quickly cut him off, "Please sir, can you just tell me what city, area, state, province am I in?"
Bewildered and surprised, the vendor looked at the oddly dressed younger man, cloaked in black in an unfamiliar outfit but with the finest materials. Finally looking into the younger man's face, the vender feels intimidated. This younger man had the look of death on his face. He was a cornered man, a desperate one, like a mad dog. Though that wasn't quite right. The politer face he had seen earlier while being a mask, was also there, a layer perhaps. There was restraint, but it was more like tension before an arrow released by the bow. This man was a storm. And nothing ever stood in his way. If their was, it must have a sand castle before the tide. He no longer was a young man, but an old one. Seeing thousands of deaths, and thousands of his kills. There was a slightly panicked look in his face. As if God has swept the world from right under his feet. And God was going to pay for doing that! He no longer was an old man stalling death but waiting for death, so that he could ambush it! He had no idea what this younger man had seen, but the tension that the atmosphere created pushed the vender to answer without questions, or even think of a question of why this man needed to know where he was. He answered "Londonium, in the territory of Britannia, under the Roman Empire."