March 26, 2011
Repost: October 24, 2012
Not Proofread
By RahXephon [847246]

Author's Notes: This entry is a repost and continuation of a previous upload where some explicit content is scrubbed. I had to delete my previous story when the infamous fanfiction purge on July 2012 began due to very dark and sexual content, making me lose most of my reviews, favorites and alerts. Do note that none of my chapters are properly proofread, and many errors may still remain. I'm not changing much so those who have read this fic before do not need to do so again.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its associated terms and trademarks are authored by J.K. Rowling, the copyright holder of the novel series. I do not in any shape or form claim to have authorization to write a derivative work based on the Harry Potter franchise.

WARNING: This fic will contain descriptions or references to questionable and distasteful material, such as murder, child abuse, slavery, exploitation and probably a lot of other nasty things that are perpetrated by either Harry or someone else.

The Star Empire

PART I: The Degeneration

The Boy-Who-Left

Rape and pillage. That was her calling. It seemed such a distasteful occupation for a rising woman such as Claris. Heck, the way her uniform snuggly hugged her figure, the rowdy crew of the ship should have jumped her already. Nevertheless, no one dared to touch her desirable body. As it should be.

'Thank the multiverse that men are still able to use their brains in this age.'

Lust was a weapon, and the pirate officer wielded it like a finely honed edge. Manipulating those around her in was trivial task. A simple brush of the hand along the cheek. An opportune stretch that happened to accentuate her modest assets. A dazzling smile while maintaining eye contact seconds longer than was the custom. All of these actions and more provoked and excited the dimwitted pirates around her like wild animals. She was a prize that they could not conquer, a fruit they could not taste. Simply dangling her carefully chosen fragrance in front of their noses was enough to ensure their loyalty, if not their compliance.

'Enough to make them do everything I want.' She thought with a smile.

Oh, she wasn't deluded enough to make an attempt on the ship. For one, captaining a pirate ship effectively asked for brutality, not subtlety. Two, the captain himself was quite a formidable individual. He possessed enough experience resist her charms. Someone with his vast experience had probably beaten back a dozen mutinies.

Besides, she did not even want to take over the ship.

Acting as the captain's unofficial second allowed her to garner most of the benefits of being in command but without exposing herself to the risks. All the bounties and arrest warrants were usually aimed towards the captain. As far as the authorities were concerned, the rest of the crew were beneath their notice. If the captain ever ran into trouble he couldn't escape from, Claris and the rest of the crew would sooner as not bug out and leave him out to dry.

Until that happened, she planned to live out comfortably with her officer's share of the earnings along with a smattering of stolen luxuries. New Cuban cigars, fine Malagarian rugs, the most enchanting non-Earth jewels – nothing of want was far from her grasp. She lived like a prince.

That was not to say she was without talent. Everyone on the ship had to contribute. No one tolerated freeloaders. The captain was an experienced veteran in the trade, and his solid if unspectacular success had drawn a score of dependable scoundrels, with Claris herself as the crown jewel. While her ability to command wasn't exceptional, her ingenuity with sensors and information management made her a valuable part of the crew.

As a veritable sensor and information specialist (with highly expensive and illicit implants to boot), she contributed immensely to the captain's success. She could penetrate through the thickest of interference, identify vulnerabilities and spot cloaked positions within a heartbeat. Her connections within the mercenary underground allowed her to receive word of juicy but little known targets of opportunity earlier than her rivals. All this and more had earned her the gratitude of the captain. If he didn't like her occasional machinations on his men, well, at least he didn't complain.

Normally speaking, female lieutenants such as Claris often had to sacrifice a little dignity. Some captains were more forceful than others. Fortunately for her, she had chosen her posting carefully after scoping out the best of unsavory captains. Most men would have taken her as a concubine – or worse, a whore. Female captains were little better, usually growing jealous and wrathful at her beauty. They would eventually seek ways to humiliate her, or get rid of her pretty ass entirely.

Captain Hargrave was the best of the bunch. He was experienced, if a bit cautious, but proved solid in the face of adversity. Oh, he had his vicious anger bursts like any other big-time pirate, but he only revealed that side if the shit really hit the fan. He also wasn't above becoming physical in his frustrations, but he never resorted to crippling wounds. Many other pirate captains wouldn't hesitate to poke out an eye or cut off a few fingers. Hargrave was a man who adhered to both the stick and carrot. His leadership kept his mobile carrier at peak efficiency, or as much as possible with a crew of undisciplined outlaws.

As for his preferences, well, what could she say? He left the dames alone, letting the men under him have their violent way with them. The little boys however... the younger, the better. No one, not even the hardest criminals among the crew wanted to learn what happened to in the confines of his cabin. It didn't matter much to Claris. Those saucy young virgins were pretty much dead anyway. Hargrave didn't involve himself in the hostage or slave trading business. Keeping prisoners alive was too risky and was bound to raise emotions among the families of the hostages. Some of them might even commission rescue parties. He decided it was better to keep only material goods, and throw everything else out of the airlock. After having your way with them of course.

'The captain always keeps the best lads for himself. He could have passed a few of those yummy treats to me.'

A firm, wrinkled hand landed on Claris' shoulder. The command ring that mastered all of the ship's ultimate controls gleamed dully in the overhead omnilighting. The fingers dug into her flesh, drawing her attention back to the present. She suppressed the urge to slap the hand away and instead turned her head to face her captain.

"Aye, sir?"

"It's almost time. I want you to suit up and lead the secondary boarding party."

'WHAT? Participate in a boarding action? Is he crazy!'

"But sir! I'm a bridge officer! I'm not even trained in boarding combat!"

The hand gripped the muscles of her shoulder even tighter. "No time like the present, Claris. You've been cooped up the bridge for so many hours that it's a wonder you can even walk under gravity. A little grit in your stomach will shape you up nicely."

It was no use arguing any further with Hargrave. The captain could be whimsical sometimes, making the oddest and most banal orders, either for the fun of it, or to deliver some undue punishment. Claris wasn't sure which applied to her current situation.

"Besides," The captain continued. "You were the one that scoped out this target. If there's anyone who deserves a shot at this mark, it's you."

'Gee, thanks.' Claris thought as she released the straps that held her to her seat at the sensors station. Another specialist left his own seat to take up her station in return.

Throwing a sloppy salute to her superior, she turned and left for her quarters. She entered the luxuriously carpeted room that she called her home and opened her oversized closets. Amongst all the dresses, uniforms, shawls and other fashions rested a box that contained her valuable boarding armor. With ruthless efficiency she discarded her scarlet uniform and began the patient task of strapping on the modular components of her powered armor.

Her boarding armor was a welcome prize. She received it after Hargrave ambushed an unsuspecting military courier roughly a standard year ago. Though he struck the ship mainly to raid its protected databanks, the VIP on board was an added bonus. The naval officer had the same size and build as Claris, which proved to be a delight to the crew who wanted to ravage their sensor officer's lookalike.

Claris didn't mind. The HyperCyst Naval Combat Armor Version 3.2 that used to belong to the officer was fully vacuum capable and could withstand up to Class II weapon impacts. That was better than most of armors the rest of the boarding crew had available. Most standard suits could withstand only a handful Class II impacts and only if they were properly maintained.

As she finished suiting up the refurbished scarlet armor, she picked up her decorated helmet and left for the docking bay, passing a few crew members along the way. They nodded respectfully at her, even more so since she looked more imposing than usual. A few of the ex-military washouts even threw a hasty salute, not that she cared. 'Leave the etiquette to the civilized. No need to salute amongst animals.'

The usual dozen that comprised the boarding crew looked up in surprise at her presence. As they prepared their equipment and the boarding capsules they would be riding in, the squad of twelve had been clearly in their element. Claris' arrival obviously disrupted their routine.

The woman calmly stepped forward to relay her orders to the assembled boarders. She did her best to hide her doubts and fears.

The leading boarding officer, Gerchev, grimaced at the news. 'Fucking captain, what the hell am I suppose to do with an amateur? It doesn't matter how pretty her armor is if she just gets in our way.'

He spat out some of the leafy gunk he was chewing on and regarded her disgust. "So the cap's doing another one of his hair-brained schemes? Figures."

When Claris didn't respond, he shrugged and faced his secondary squad. "Rainer, you heard the news. It's back to second fiddle on this job."

Turning back to Claris, Gerchev laid a withering stare to the woman who would act as his second on this mission. "You might lead six of my men, but they're mine, not yours. The moment you act up Rainer won't hesitate to take over, you hear?"

Nodding, Claris left the bunch alone and decided to supervise the preparation of her boarding capsule instead. There was nothing to gain by saying anything more. The boarding crew was a close bunch. They did everything together and never allowed any outsiders to join their circle of friends. She could depend on their word, though not their affection. They wouldn't throw out a limb to save her from a difficult fix but she could manage by herself. As long as she kept her head low and let the crew do their own thing, none of them had to suffer.

Claris could work with that. All she cared about was rape and pillage. The latter more than the former, of course. It was hard for outsiders to imagine she was even capable of raping men, but piracy was a gender-neutral occupation, and others soon learned what torture she could unleash. Sex with her was the only pleasure she could grant her victims before they met their demise in space.

The intern clumsily bumped the overhanging scanner tool against the large crystal, eliciting a loud thunk that rung throughout the entire lab.

"JOHNSON!" The professor roared, ripping his grey-haired head towards the unfortunate assistant. Dropping his holopad, he stomped over to the source of the incident and ripped the frightened assistant from the sample. "Get out!"

"But professor—"

"OUT!" The old man roared.

The young man could do nothing else but scamper away. The professor sighed and brushed his sweaty hands against the fabric of his clean white lab coat. With a steady hand the professor took over control of the scanning implement and finished the menial job of mapping out the crystal's interior himself. The other researchers weren't stupid enough to offer a hand. They were well aware of his obsessive need to do things right.

The overhead screen updated the results of the radiological scans. A myriad of radiation and particles – all safe and non-lethal, of course – penetrated through the unknown crystal's surface only to encounter further interference. From what, nobody knew, but that was what they were all itching to find out. Not even the hardiest of high-grade hull armor proved to be this resistant to high-powered precision scans. If they could crack the secrets of their crystal's remarkable secrets, they could develop a new class of scan-resistant coating that might earn them billions of credits in royalties alone.

Not that Professor Zhang held any interest in such base pursuits.

If one shone a bright light through the blue-ish surface, that person would be able to observe a murky silhouette in the center of the horse-sized crystal. The profile was too indistinguishable to identify what lay buried beneath, but it provided enough hints for Zhang to extrapolate that it probably contained a great treasure.

After all, a crystal tougher than diamond by an unimaginable factor and composed of unknown materials had to carry many secrets. Its discovery alone was unprecedented in human history and would outshine all previous discoveries of extrasolar material. Zhang could conceive no natural process that could form such a resilient and uniformly shaped object. The construct might even be artificial in nature.

It was a long shot, a ridiculous thought really, but if he could somehow divine the secrets of this giant crystal, he might find clues to the intelligence that might have shaped it. An intelligence that may very well be alien, for no human knowledge could shape such a magnificent creation.

His fellow researchers and subordinates had no idea of the profoundness of this singular work of art. They were ignorant to its implications, blind to the suggestions that lay underneath. They thought only of the payout this discovery would deliver, not knowing the potential the crystal could grant something greater. This discovery could grant them praise, acknowledgement and a permanent record in the long list of human achievement. In short, immortality.

Zhang was determined to be remembered in the likes of Einstein or Alexander the Great.

Sadly, the scans showed nothing except what he already had in abundance: interference.

"What in the blasted hells is WRONG with this machine!"

The foul-tempered professor kicked at the terminal in frustration. The machine, well hardened in case of such occurrences, hardly made a beep in response.

Dr. Selner was the only researcher present with the seniority to reply. Relishing the opportunity to be away from her husband's shadow, she brought valuable connections to the expedition. "This only proves the material's value. I thought you would be more excited by this outcome. Perhaps no ship-borne scanner is capable of penetrating the crystal. We're only a week away from Gellard-15. I'm sure their more powerful terrestrial scanners would be able to tell us more of the sample."

While Zhang wanted to retort that he couldn't wait a week, he knew intellectually that there was no other option. They had spent days throwing every diagnostic tool they had on hand onboard the research vessel at the object to no avail. For better or worse, they needed better facilities.

Letting out one last kick, Zhang stormed out of the lab, leaving the remaining researchers without any further guidance.

Selner just shrugged her shoulders. "Back to work people, we might not be able to do much, but at least we can lay the groundwork for the boys at Gellard-15."

The silhouette continued to rest inside the crystalline coffin, oblivious to the excitement it was generating amongst the crew of the vessel.

The prowl had taken up a standard day. The Eviscerator had stalked the Helical Visage for many hours within the shadows of the massive Jupiter belt. It was child's play to keep herself hidden from the research vessel's civilian-grade sensors, especially with the abundance of asteroids and space dust. The captain and his command had extensively studied the specifications of their prey's class and had drawn up the most optimal plan to approach and attack the valuable ship.

As long as the Visage kept her powerful spectral telescopes and resource scanners idle, there was little chance she could spot the approaching little pirate carrier. Even if she somehow detected the Eviscerator, there was little hope for escape. Still, detection would give their victims time to prepare, something Captain Hargrave was loath to grant. Their prey might have it in their heads to destroy whatever bountiful treasure they were rumored to possess.

With patience born out of habit, the compact bulldog-shape of the mobile carrier crept ever closer to the bulkier but defenseless shape of her mark. Using the tumbling asteroids and the debilitating effects of Jupiter's mass, the pirates leapfrogged their way until they overtook the Visage's predicted course.

Then, the subtlety of a sledgehammer, the pirates jumped into the path of their mark and launched their two sole boarding capsules from the Eviscerator's oversized torpedo tube. Potent fuel charges burst from the back of the capsules, propelling them swiftly towards the dumbstruck science ship. Only halfway on their short journey did the Visage finally make an attempt to dodge.

Hargrave had expected this, and pushed his mobile carrier quickly into combat range to put a stop to the Visage's antics. The old but reliable Reaper heavy varilaser cannon burst its electromagnetic beams with pinpoint accuracy. The Reaper was set to a deliberately underpowered setting to avoid causing structural damage while simultaneously allowing for a higher cycle time and a much lower heat buildup. The gunners operating the varilaser cannon were hitting all the preselected subsystems, disabling sensors, communication towers and other miscellaneous exterior systems.

The Eviscerator's secondary weapons finally came into range as well. Hargrave opened fire with all of his forward facing armaments. The pulsed particle turrets aided the main cannon in eliminating anything that their prey could use to escape or fight with a barrage of miniature energy projectiles. The carrier's sole torpedo launcher opened up with a canister that soon burst into short-range guided cluster rockets that quickly circled round their prey to strike at the research vessel's vulnerable engines.

The pirate ship's final arsenal emerged from the rear of the pirate ship. A hangar bay retracted, letting out the ship's most versatile weapons, her two heavy interceptors. They launched from the belly of the pirate carrier and patrolled the battlescape. Hargrave had no need for their firepower, but their presence would help intimidate the crew of the Helical Visage into surrender.

Not that they stood a chance in the first place.

The Asian professor slammed his fist against the schematic table. Years of scouring Jupiter's orbit and months of excavating the enigmatic crystal from a radioactive asteroid had all been for nothing. Of all that Murphy's fucking Law could throw at him, it had to be fucking pirates.

Red lights continued to blink while sirens were busy blowing everyone's eardrums off. Zhang flicked his fingers against the surface of the command table and manually cut the power to the annoying alarms. By now everyone knew of the impending threat. No need to destroy all their sensory organs.

'Still, pirates! How did they even come across the Helical Visage?'

The solar system stretched billions of cubic kilometers of space. The section of the Jupiter belt they were in was nowhere near civilized space. The Visage kept its emissions profile low and locked down any external communication signals. By all rights, no one but the crew and the Exploration Society should have known their location.


'Jealous brats! We've been ratted out!'

The intercom bleared a ship-wide announcement just as the first attacked impacted on the ship. "This is Captain Jorne! Our ship is under heavy assault by pirates. They have a single mobile carrier and two heavy fighters. We do not stand a chance against them. Our sensors and communications systems have already been taken out and the engines will follow soon no doubt. I have offered our unconditional surrender but they are unwilling to respond. For the moment, we will likely be boarded at any moment. Considering that this is Captain Hargrave's ship, I can only surmise we cannot expect any mercy. Make peace with yourselves. I intend to fight this to the end. Captain out."

While every lab researcher looked around with panic or despair, Zhang felt nothing but utter rage. "NO! I will not have my work taken away like this! Not like this!"

He rounded towards the nearest person and lifted the doctor by his shirt. "You! Tell me what defenses does this ship have?"

"None! We're strictly civilian and neutral! All Exploration Society ships are prohibited from carrying any ship-board weapons in order to maintain neutrality."

"Fucking idiots!"

Though Zhang should have considered more carefully before accepting a post on an unescorted ship, he had been too enamored by the prospect of great discoveries to care. Now it all came back to bite him in the ass. Grunting in helpless fury, he threw down the unfortunate scientist and went back to his command table. Instantly he opened up a multitude of tabs and input boxes, reconfiguring the modules in his lab. A short moment later, the blast doors shut into place, locking out the entrance. A minute later, a handful of scanners and analyzers began to orient themselves towards the doors.

"What are you doing professor?" Dr. Selner cried out as she rushed forward, only to be rudely shoved to the floor. "If we show resistance the pirates might kill us! We don't have any chance!"

But Zhang ignored his colleague. "Don't you know anything? Captain Hargrave is that notorious pedophile pirate. Do you really think he will show us mercy when you know what he does to children?"

His words only compounded the hopelessness of their situation.

"I don't know about you cowards, but I'm not going down without a fight!" The professor went back to reprogramming the scanning equipment, feeding it massive amounts of power. "The lab is rated to withstand a small nuclear explosion. Granted, it is meant to contain such an explosion from within, but the armor is enough to force the bastards to come through the doors instead of the walls. And while our scanning equipment isn't meant to be used as weapons, they have the potential to give those pirates a nasty surprise."

The senior scientist paused in his work and glanced towards his co-workers. "So are you going to let them kill you, or are you going to fight back and take a few of those bastards down with you?"

Somehow, his vindictive tone snapped most of them out of their daze. They helped Zhang reconfigure everything that could be used as a deadly tool into a weapon. A handful of interns and assistants barricaded the entrance and stacked tables and chairs for cover. The machine operators repurposed surgery lasers into cutting beams and the radiological scanners into makeshift gamma emitters. Even the X-Ray emitter was taken from its overhead fixture in order to act as a giant radiation gun. It would short out fast with the amount of energy pumped through its circuits, but even a few seconds would help. The overwhelming sense of desperation urged them to fight back in one, last moment of defiance.

'We might not get out alive, but I'm sure as hell not going to let my buddies in the Exploration Society have the last laugh.' Zhang thought as he moved the crystal he had been studying towards the center of the room to act as an anchor.

Lieutenant Claris barely had time to blink before the capsule crashed through the flimsy hull of their target. The impact jarred everyone inside the capsule. Fortunately for everyone, its oversized inertial dampeners helped prevent much potential injury. Claris barely had time to stretch out her kinks before one of her subordinates undid her straps and shoved her out the capsule. The sudden motion almost caused her to vomit out her lunch.

"Fuck.." She muttered to herself as her visor adjusted itself to the interior of the ship. Maps, schematics, and other details flowed through her HUD, most of it irrelevant to her immediate needs. "Shit."

"Get yourself together, lieutenant." Rainer murmered gruffly as he took hold of her shoulders and slammed her back against the bulkhead. "Are you ready to lead your squad or do we have to leave you behind?"

Claris punched Rainer's helmet in order to create some space. "Don't fuck with me Rainer. Now get out of my way and secure our objective."

"Aye aye." The men and women grumbled. The seven intruders marched purposely through the corridors on their way to their first target, the engine room. They arrived fast enough to prevent any sabotage like self-destructing the reactor core. Their pulse rifles cut down anyone within with ease as none of the engineers even bothered to wear hardened suits. If they did, then Claris' squad would have been forced to bring out their heavier arsenal, potentially damaging their sensitive surroundings. A stray grenade might damage the main reactor and cause it to blow up. Even if that wouldn't occur, they didn't want to scratch the ship. A working vessel of any kind fetched a good price on the black market and they intended to milk out the Helical Visage for all her worth.

"Engine room secure."

The captain's voice quickly appeared over the private commandnet. "Leave a guard behind and move on to the next objective."

Claris did as she was told and resumed their hunt with five of her men. They headed towards the environmental section. The men inside were harder to eliminate, courtesy of their armored biohazard suits and whatever makeshift pistols they managed to smuggle in. One of her men decided to throw a pulse grenade, which flash-burned an unfortunate crewman while blinding the rest momentarily. Not long, but enough to take the opportunity to storm their position and take them out without any further fuss.

"Environmentals secure."

Gerchev sounded in as well. "Bridge secure. Put up a nasty fight, some injured, no dead."

"Right." Hargrave replied, before continuing, "Excellent work. Gerchev, sweep up the corridors and bunks. No prisoners. Claris, storm the lab and take out whoever's left. This should be easy. Out."

For a moment, Claris felt surprised that her team was chosen to take out the eggheads. Storming a lab required a delicate and experienced touch, because most of the sensitive materials within fetched quite a prize on the open market. She realized that this might as well be a test. She couldn't afford to disappoint her captain.

They moved carefully up the ship. The corridors and other small enclosures were prone to ambushes. Checking all those compartments was probably more dangerous than clearing out a lab full of defenseless dorks. Not that she tried to underestimate academics, but it was hard to imagine they could do anything lethal, like aiming a pistol in the right direction.

'They probably need to calculate their firing angle before they even begin to pull the trigger.'

As they finally arrived at the entrance of the science room, they positioned themselves on either sides and prepared to barge inside. Rainer pressed the command to open, but the hatch refused to budge.

"Damn geeks, they hacked the door controls. Looks like we have to do this the hard way."

"Right." Claris said, and considered her options. "Doesn't matter if we make a hard entry. The lab is big enough that a single explosion wouldn't damage all their equipment. Place the explosive charges and back off. We go in as soon as they go off."

Two of the boarders placed their doorbusters and backed off to a good distance. They handed over control for the triggers to Claris. After a short countdown, she initiated the charges.


Heat, dust, smoke and other particles filled up the corridor. Unfazed by all the dust and confident in their armor, the boarding crew stormed forward to enter the lab, firing as they went. All of them were ready to eliminate anyone within. Still, the outcome wasn't guaranteed.

For unknown to all of them, a certain blue crystal began to glow in ominous pulses.

Once, there was a boy. There was nothing special about this boy if you discounted his parentage. He was just a happy little boy that did just what every little boy his age did, sleep and eat.

Then a certain prophecy came into being, spoken by a diviner of uncertain talents and results. This prophecy was spoken to one of the wisest and most powerful wizards of this age. It was also spoken in the presence of a betrayer.

The betrayer relayed a portion of this prophecy to his master, a rather dark and vile Lord with a capacity of unrestrained malice. It spoke of this Lord's defeat.

The Lord decided that this prophecy could not come to pass.

Thus the Lord worked to act against the terms. There were two potential targets. Both were attacked, including the household of the little boy.

During the massacre of its parents, the boy miraculously repelled a being far more powerful and dangerous. It would have been simpler to just drop a rock on the kid.

The defeat of the dark Lord brought jubilation to the world, the Wizarding kind at least. The boy was hailed as a hero, and became hence-known as the Boy-Who-Lived.

One would expect that the Boy-Who-Lived would live the rest of his life in splendor, and many wizards thought this to be the case. None of it was any further from the truth.

In actuality, the Boy-Who-Lived lived in a very oppressive household. The Boy-Who-Lived barely smiled, if at all, and was treated more akin to a slave than a human being. You could say the boy barely lived at all.

So, when this Boy-Who-Lived was introduced to Hogwarts and the rest the Wizarding World, he was wholly unprepared, let alone ready to face the challenges he would face in the seven years of his attendance. He faced insurmountable dangers, suffered unavoidable tragedies and overcame impossible challenges until finally the truth came out. He was shoved forward to take care of the Dark Lord once and for all.

Through the use of the dreaded instruments known as the Hallows, the Boy-Who-Lived persevered. Having rid the world of the dark lord's unholy soul fragments, the boy known as the Boy-Who-Lived was finally able to fulfill the largest purpose of his life. He vanquished over his greatest enemy. The Wizarding World celebrated for a second time, this time more jubilantly. The Boy-Who-Lived received much gratitude and quickly became known as the Boy-Who-Vanquished, the Boy-Who-Turned-Victorious or simply the Boy-Who-Won.

Now normally, such a simple tale would end as a happy ending where the hero gets the girl, become married, have children and see them attend the same school as their parents.

This is not that tale.

You see, the Boy-Who-Won, now a man, but still very much a boy, became a little too famous, or shall we say, notorious. He could not rid himself of the powerful instruments he had used in his struggle. They were drawing much attention. The Hallows, once regarded as a simple tale of morality, were now very much real, and blinding in their ability to attract the greedy.

Duels, ambushes and assassinations became the norm. The Boy-Who-Won would continually test his hard-won title, racking up tallies as he defeated more and more of those who conspired to take away his instruments. Seeing as there was no realistic possibility of defeating a boy who had rightfully earned the title Boy-Who-Won, his enemies began to plot a way of defeating an undefeatable opponent.

They worked to kidnap and threaten those the Boy-Who-Won cared about. Thus followed a series of gruesome events that would define the rest of the boy's life. The murder of his wife, the slaughter of the family of redheads, and the massacre of his few remaining cousins and aunts were all intentional attacks meant to crack the boy's resolve. Even the one family he did not care about at all had been eliminated.

The atrocities enraged the Boy-Who-Won, and drove him to retaliate in a manner unbecoming of a hero. The Wizarding World was shocked, but sympathized with their savior and pledged their unilateral support to see the villains brought to justice.

Yet the Boy-Who-Won wasn't interested in justice. He slew ten times more than what his opponents had dealt in return. He slew those with only tenuous connections to the perpetrators. He roughed up those who possessed only the tiniest inkling of useful information.

The Boy-Who-Won did not seem much of a winner anymore.

His enemies were many, and not all of them were outlaws. Many still enjoyed positions within the body of government. They avoided suspicion by keeping their heads below the radar. These administrators and decision-makers did all they could to shift opinion. As the years went by, less reverence needed to be paid to the achievements of the Boy-Who-Won. More and more, newspapers and other opinion makers began to voice their doubt of the sanity of Boy-Who-Won. How could one be a hero when he acted in the same way of the dark lord he defeated himself?

Perhaps the Dark Lord lived on within him. Perhaps the fame and power corrupted him. Perhaps the Hallows themselves worked their nefarious purposes within his will.

Practically no one spoke up against these rumors, for all of those who wished to do so were massacred already. With no friends or relatives and no other allies to depend upon, the Boy-Who-Won was in actuality a very lonely boy.

Suddenly people didn't think fondly of the Boy-Who-Won anyomre. They didn't comprehend his achievements. They did not see what they were supposed to be grateful about. The Boy-Who-Won didn't look like he was winning against anything. Instead, he became resentful and bloodthirsty. He became morose and ill tempered. He became consumed in his mad crusade against evil. In short, the Boy-Who-Won became the Boy-Who-Became.

The Boy-Who-Became did not very much like this new title of his. Yet there was nothing he could do about it. He held no influence amongst higher channels and had no supporters left who could fight in his name. In short, the boy had no power to change public opinion. The Boy-Who-Became soon grew into a dreaded figure in Wizarding history. It did not help that he did not look older than the day he became the Boy-Who-Won. How could he not age in the decades beyond his teenage years? Was it the corrupting influence of the Hallows? Or was it due to some unspeakable ritual that required gallons of baby blood to maintain? Sadly for the Boy-Who-Became, a significant portion of the public did not discount the latter rumor.

It became inevitable that the Wizarding World would turn against the Boy-Who-Became.

The Boy-Who-Became was the new dark lord. The Boy-Who-Became would kill everyone. The Boy-Who-Became was planning to topple the entirety of the Wizarding World.

Of course, this could not be. So the Wizarding World moved to eliminate this newfound threat.

The results were utterly predictable. The Wizarding World was rather rudely reminded why the Boy-Who-Became used to be called the Boy-Who-Won. All attempts of defeating the Boy-Who-Became in open combat met with failure. Add to that his wealth of experience in dealing with ruthless warlocks, the Boy-Who-Became might as well be nigh invincible.

How could you defeat an opponent who was formidable, experienced, and (reputably) immortal? The world's greatest Wizards shut themselves in a hidden location to ponder upon the question for days upon days.

Eventually the elders decided to imprison the Boy-Who-Became.

Fashioning an elaborate trap requiring countless magical materials and a humongous amount of magical energies, the wizards and witches finally completed the ultimate prison after a modest period of ten years.

A decade had been enough for the Boy-Who-Became to demolish the Wizarding World. Banks, shops, infrastructure, even Hogwarts itself suffered from obliterating attacks. Whole species such as dragons and even the innocent kneazels were pushed to extinction. If the war raged just ten years more, the Boy-Who-Became would have likely become the Boy-Who-Won once more. There would of course be no room for the loser to exist. The very future of the Wizarding World was at stake.

Thus, to provide the ultimate lure for their bloodthirsty opponent, they gathered their most powerful wizards and witches to the ruins of Hogwarts, and waited.

The Boy-Who-Became couldn't resist. He came all right, spells blazing and killing a third of those present in the first few seconds. The angry and hateful Boy-Who-Became killed indiscriminately. Young or old, rich or poor, it mattered none. All he saw was magic, and all he wanted was to kill magic. For that tense short battle, the Boy-Who-Became truly lived up to his other title, the Master of Death.

Unfortunately, there were ways to defeat someone without resorting to death. Utilizing the power of time and the permanence of reality, the remaining magicians cast a brief but powerful net that ensnared their chosen prey, and launched him into the prison that they fashioned only for him. The Boy-Who-Became became entrapped in a prison that he could never have conceived in his life. The menace that had forced the Wizarding World to its knees finally met his own end.

The Boy-Who-Became became the Boy-Who-Lost.

For a third time, the Wizarding World rejoiced, only with much less voices and much less enthusiasm. Fatigued and demoralized, the ruined survivors could only look on as the crystalline prison continued to mock their weary eyes.

They had to get rid of the Boy-Who-Lost.

Much debate ensued how to accomplish such a goal without leaving open the possibility of an eventual return. After all, the boy-who-lost was the most dangerous and powerful enemy to ever threaten their society. Who ensured he could not return to deal the coup-the-grace to the already fragile world of wizards and witches?

Send him out to the void of stars. At least, that was one of the suggestions. Yet as the muggleborns became more aware of the advances in technology, in particular the growing forays into space, they began to reason more loudly for this option. How could the dreaded Boy-Who-Lost ever become a threat in the coldness of vacuum, the void where air itself was but a distant fantasy? How could he maintain his existence in an environment that was subjected to lethal doses of radiation and extreme fluctuations in temperature? Send him away, to the distant void, to never return.

Thus it came to be that they moved his prison. Sneaking into one of the many launch sites that the muggles used to throw oversized rockets into space was trivial. The most worldly wizards and witches carefully selected the most appropriate mission into space. They eventually chose a mission meant to explore the dwarf planet known as Pluto, a celestial body many light-hours away from Earth. Not that many wizards even knew what light-hours represented.

"It takes time for light to arrive to its destination? Why the bloody hell don't we just invent a spell to speed it up! "

Unconcerned, most of the survivors went along with the plan, attaching the crystal to the body of the satellite and making it undetectable to even the most rigorous inspections. Notice-me-nots and many other minor enchantments ensured that none would care to remove the magical contraption. To be absolutely certain the prison of the boy-who-lost would not be tampered with, a permanent presence of seven wizards stood vigil over the satellite every night and day until the launch date approached.

When the day arrived and the satellite eventually launched from the surface of their meager world, the Wizarding World rejoiced for one, final time. The Boy-Who-Lost eventually became the Boy-Who-Left.

There was only one problem. The Boy-Who-Left took something with him in his journey. Something important.

It started when the unicorns and other magical creatures grew weak and sick. The survivors noticed that their spells began to fail or lose their potency. Crucial wards expired, prompting a mad scramble to recast them only to see them fail again. Whole sections of the Wizarding World became exposed to the other world. The panicking wizard and witches moved quickly to eliminate whatever magical oddities the wards had hid, whether they were magical forests or the recently rebuilt goblin banks. The goblins themselves did not take kindly to this, but they were so few in number that exterminating this greedy race was only a footnote in history.

However, all the wizards were accomplishing was putting out fires. It was eventually discovered that magic itself was failing. The mystical force grew strained and disconnected, withdrawing from the mortal plane in a worrying pace.

How? Why? Many have taken the time to ponder this question, only to come up with one rather implausible conclusion. This whole incident began when the boy-who-left had left the domain of the Earth. Was his very existence tied to the survival of magic? Madness! Blasphemy!

More research yielded a more plausible, if less reassuring theory. It was noted in the most ancient annals that the race of dragons had gifted life the power to wield magic. The researchers surmised that perhaps the dragons acted as the source of magic. With the extinction of their entire race in the long conflict to defeat the Boy-Who-Left, the wellspring of magic ceased to be, leaving no other source to replenish the ambient magic that continued to be used up by the remaining wizards and witches.

This theory did not hold entirely up. Dragons became extinct fifteen years before the Boy-Who-Left was sent away from their planet. Did it take that much time for the ambient magic to be noticeably used up? Implausible.

Whatever the truth, the Wizarding World somehow believed that the departure of the Boy-Who-Left caused the impending doom of magic. It was certainly a fitting revenge to the society that had scorned the Boy-Who-Left. Nothing less than they deserved, some believed. Others, well, they were not as accepting of their eventual fate.

A few remaining magicians strove to retrieve the satellite bearing the crystalline prison that held their potential savior. Of course, these remaining old coots and wrinkled hags did not know the first thing about projecting their weakened magic to a space that that measured in trillions of kilometers. They could not conceive in their brilliant but feeble minds to overcome the gulf that separated them from their target. After many tries and sacrifices, they eventually perished when their latest attempt ended when they had apparated an asteroid above their heads. The Boy-Who-Left had won in the end.

Thus, this simple tale ends here, chronicling the decline and fall of the great civilization that was known as the Wizarding World. Amongst the ruins of our once marvelous society, I, a humble scribe and a squib possessing only the most modest amount of magic, cannot do anything else but concede to our savior-turned-villain that we were wrong.

Let me, as a final ode to the Boy-Who-Lved-Who-Won-Who-Became-Who-lost-And-Who-L eft, inscribe our epitaph and apology on the ruins of this once great and famous school.

We existed

We protected

We made a mistake

Please forgive us

—Professor Draco Malfoy, 2108.

End Notes: This chapter remains unchanged due to the lack of explicit content. Remember that this is a repost, not a rewrite, so I am trying to conserve as much original material as possible to lessen the workload. If you question why I am reposting this fic without committing to continue it, then you must know that I am posting this mainly for the benefit of new readers who have not read this fic before. Even if it stays at 49 chapters, this story will have a place on this site.