AN: Unlike my earlier rewrite, this is more an editing than a rewriting as there as some inconsistences that need to be sorted out. This story will also no longer be a multicrossover as when I got to seventeen chapters and not yet at the War of the Ring I thought it was getting a bit long and so now this is a stand alone story.
I will be redoing chapters two at a time and as it is not a full rewrite hope to have each batch of chapters out every couple of days but we will have to see. For me this is the start of a reintroduction into the Traveller, this inconsistences are ones I need to sort out before I continue. The first couple of chapters will have very few changes but there will be some, and a lot more in later ones.
From the earliest times of the awakening of men there was a legend. A prophecy that foretold the coming of a man who would free man from the shackles that it bore and set it free. One who would sweep away the old order and replace it with something infinitely better.
It was from this foretelling that the prophecy received it names; the Foretelling of the Flood. For he who was coming would be like a flood, impossible to control and sweeping away all in its wake. And now he was coming.
Chronicle of the Coming of the Flood
"Harry James Potter, you are hereby found guilty by this court on the charges of breaking into Ministry property, the murder of several upstanding members of our community and the use of a Grade 1 banned spell, the Cruciatus Curse. This court sentences you to death by the use of the Veil of Death in the very department into which you broke."
Harry was not surprised by the verdict, he knew it would go against him. Seconds, seconds were what had made the difference. Had Fudge and the rest of the Ministry arrived a couple of seconds earlier they would have seen Voldemort face to face but they hadn't and nobody believed Harry when he had said that he was there.
His friends had all been forced to testify against him, they were given a choice; do so or suffer the same fate. Harry was unsurprised that they did, not after Dumbledore chose the same option. In his apology to Harry, which wasn't much of an apology, he said that there had to be someone there to fight Voldemort and if they were both executed by the Ministry then there was no hope. Harry agreed but couldn't help thinking that he would have preferred it for Dumbledore to take the punishment rather than himself.
He didn't even try to fight as he was lead out of the courtroom and down into bowels of the Department of Mysteries. He didn't even try to fight when they took his wand and broke it, hanging to broken pieces around his neck with a piece of string, laughing as they did so. Fighting would only help people to believe in the cock-and-bull story that Fudge had come up with. It amused Harry that although the Fudge administration was incompetence at governing the country, they were most certainly competent politicians able to spin the story any way they chose, unfortunately for Harry it was against him.
Now because of this it would be known throughout the wizarding world that Harry Potter had tried to break into the Ministry to steal something from the Department of Mysteries and in so doing killing a couple of notable purebloods in society who had happened to come upon him. In reality of course he hadn't killed them, one had been killed by a collapsing ceiling that had been hit by a curse, the other had taken another Death Eater's slicing curse to his face. But to the rest of the wizarding world it would look like Harry had killed them, exactly as the Minister wanted.
As they entered the veil room and Harry looked upon the heinous monstrosity that had taken his godfather from him, he saw the scene of Sirius falling replaying itself again and again in his mind. Once he was positioned within touching distance of the Veil, the charges and verdict against him were read out once more. When they had finished the two aurors who were holding him moved into position and with one last push he was thrown through.
Harry landed with a thump, striking a hard rock floor with such force that his bones and muscles ached from the impact. After lying on the ground for a couple of seconds to allow the ache from the new up and coming bruises on his body to lessen, Harry tried to drag himself up into a sitting position.
Then a foot came down hard on his back, pushing him back down onto the floor.
"What do we have here, if it isn't a little runt," a harsh voice spoke, "he will do well for the mines."
A hand grasped him by the back of the neck, hauling him up. Harry saw where he was now, he was in a city or a town of some sort and it was burning, there were bodies all over the ground and he could see a great cloud of smoke stretching out into the skies above. The stench of burning corpses was overpowered by the smell of whatever was holding him. The person who was holding him turned him so as to look at his face.
The first thing Harry saw was an incredibly ugly and scarred face, vaguely resembled of the goblins that Harry knew and well, not quite loved, but accepted anyway. Whatever this thing was it was bigger, almost human size with a lot more muscles. Its dress was made up of scraps and what looked like whatever it could find. In the background behind they could see another whole host of them assembled behind checking some humans and searching the bodies of the dead. Harry watched in horror as one ripped open the skull of the bodies, raising a handful of grey matter to his mouth. His attention was brought back to his captor by a hand that forcibly grabbed his chin, forcing him to look back into that ugly face.
"You're a proper runt," the ugly face sneered, "perhaps you won't serve in the mines after all, we might be allowed a little snack after all our hard work. What's that?"
The creature had noticed the remains of Harry's wand hanging round his neck. In a moment of inspiration Harry remembered Hagrid and his wand, broken although possible to use. He really did not want to be eaten.
The creature flew back, crashing into a couple of the other creatures sending them down to the ground. Harry used the confusion that followed to quickly get a better grip of his wand and to look for a way out but there was none that he could see. The confusion and noise of fighting had drawn more of them and they were pouring out of the side streets and soon he was totally surrounded by a tight ring of them.
They stood for a moment in hesitation before one of the bolder ones took the initiative and charged at Harry, waving a rusty sword above his head.
The blasting curse turned the creature's insides to mush and he toppled over, black blood leaking from his wounds onto the stone cobbled ground.
Silence reigned over the street in which they were standing, the creatures shifting uneasily. Finally another of them pushed his way to the front. This was one was different from all the others who surrounded him, it wore a robe covered in patterns depicting a red eye wreathed in flame and held in his hand a staff, a staff with what looked like human bones and skulls attached to it.
It paused for a moment before shaking his staff and pointing it at Harry, uttering some words that Harry really did not understand. He did understand what happened next though as a fireball left the staff and drove at Harry, who had to throw himself to the ground to avoid it.
The fireball, having passed by Harry, hit the ranks of the assembled creatures behind him , causing many of them to be consumed in flame and quickly burnt to a cinder. The magic wielding creature really didn't seem to care about the havoc it was wrecking upon its own side but just continued throwing fireballs at Harry, cackling madly as it did so.
Diving out the way of the whirling balls of death Harry started to respond with his own curses, cutting and blasting ones in particular; the scenes of death around him were enough that an already pissed Harry was ready to go to the next level.
Harry soon realised that he would be overcome very quickly, for though from the looks of it the creature sorcerer had very little spells to use, he unlike Harry was fresh and not wielding a broken wand. The sorcerer was just blocking many of Harry's curses, which weak as they were already was easy to do and those that hit were having little effect. He needed to do something drastic.
Looking around at the savaged corpses of men, woman and children and imagining the pain he would be in as these creatures ate him, he mustered all his hatred into a single spell. The bright green of the Killing Curse crossed the gap between them, broke through the weak shield that the creature brought to bear and smacked into it. With a slight wobble, the creature slowly toppled and hit the deck.
At once the creatures began a fearsome frenzy of noise, until something said a word. Harry turned around.
There before him was a cloaked figure which had the same feel as the Dementors, cold and fear inspiring but where the Dementor floated this rode for it was mounted on a huge black steed and Harry could see the glimmerings of armour underneath its robes. There was little doubt the thing was not human.
"What's your name, human?" it said in a rattle of a voice.
"Potter," Harry said, doing his best James Bond impression, "Harry Potter!"
One of the creatures sniggered at the name, and Harry's slicing hex took his head clean from his shoulders.
"Potter," it seemed to muse, "an unusual name, where are you from Potter."
"Not here," Harry said humorously, looking around, "I got banished here by another wizard that I didn't quite get along with."
The thing seemed to lose patience, "where in Middle Earth are you from, mortal! Rohan? Gondor?"
Now Harry was confused, the Arch was obviously a portal but a portal from where to where? The only possibility he could think of was he had been thrown to another dimension.
"None of those places," Harry said, raising his voice, "I know not of them either, nor this Middle Earth of which you speak."
One of the creatures burst through the ring, a club of some sort raised "the maggot lies, my lord, let me teach him some manners!"
The cloaked figure just looked at him and raised a mailed hand and said something Harry didn't understand and the creature was totally and utterly disintegrated. Harry was fucked now, he saw that. He had killed some of their men and now they had a wizard on their side who would have dwarfed Harry when he was fresh and with a fixed wand.
"I will give you a choice, wizard," the cloaked figure spoke, "serve my master or be my servants' reward for their work."
Hard choice Harry thought to himself, not. Be alive or be creature food, I think I will go with the alive bit. It's not like I can escape at this moment, not with whatever it was there ready to destroy him in a moment's notice, and besides even if this lord of his turns out to be this world's version of Voldemort, he could just escape at a later point.
"I'll take the first option," Harry said.
If anything the creatures looked slightly disappointed, although Harry wasn't regretting not giving them a feast, he rather liked his body as it was certainly better than being torn into hundreds of different pieces and eaten.
The cloaked figure spoke again in its spooky voice, "Murad, he's yours!"
A figure standing beside the black spectre raised his hand and Harry felt dizzy. Seconds later he was crashing to the ground and soon all he knew was blackness.