Disclaimer: I do not have any rights of ownership for the characters used except the OC's. All the credit goes to the authors. Only the plot belongs to me.
Chapter 1
"Your parents are dead! You have no family!" Ron's voice cut through the tent like a curse, loud and bitter from where Hermione was struggling to hold him back.
The moment the words left his lips, the entire atmosphere shifted. The rage and tension that had been simmering snapped. It all collapsed into a dense, suffocating silence. Harry didn't move. He didn't need to. The look in his eyes—icy, distant, filled with a fury Hermione had only ever seen aimed at Death Eaters and You-Know-Who — made Ron stumble back.
"Leave the Horcrux," Harry said, his voice low and steady.
Without another word, Ron ripped the chain from around his neck and flung the locket onto the nearest chair. He turned toward Hermione, jaw tight.
"What are you doing?"
"What do you mean?" asked Hermione shakily.
"Are you staying, or what?"
Hermione, still confused, spluttered like a fish out of water. "R-Ron we promised to s-stay, remember? We –"
"I get it," said Ron with an annoyed voice. "You choose him."
"No!" Hermione cried, panicking, as she chased after him. "No – please listen – Ron, come back!"
But Harry stood still, unmoving. Eyes closed. Waiting. Then, the soft crack of Apparition broke the silence—and when he opened his eyes, Hermione's voice had vanished too.
Harry stood alone.
Again.
He stepped outside the tent. The clearing was empty. The forest quiet. No voices, no footsteps, not even an echo.
He raised his wand. "Homenum Revelio."
Nothing.
Both Ron and Hermione had left him. Just like in their fourth year.
He was alone; just as he had always been his entire life.
Harry turned and walked inside with a renewed sense of purpose. He couldn't afford to break down. Not right now. The world was counting on him. Hogwarts was counting on him. His family was counting on him.
He picked up the locket inside of the tent and put it back around his neck. The whispering that accompanied its presence, the slithery voices that taunted and tortured his mind when he wore it, all of it came back with a vengeance, a force stronger than before.
But Harry's mind was too occupied for him to pay any attention to the Horcrux.
He began packing his things with deliberate movements. One last swish of his wand, and the campsite vanished behind him. Then he Apparated, not to somewhere familiar, but far away—remote, quiet, untraceable.
If he was going to be alone, he would damn sure be alone in a place where no one can find him.
Under his trusted Invisibility Cloak, Harry Potter walked around in a large circle as he muttered under his breath, casting the standard protective enchantments around the tent.
The sound of waves hitting the shore filled the air. Unfortunately, the therapeutic sound and peaceful surroundings did not calm the storm that raged inside. Ron's words kept echoing in his mind, piercing every inch of his skin.
"We thought you knew what you were doing! We thought Dumbledore had told you what to do, we thought you had a real plan!"
"Don't lie! You said it too; you said you were disappointed, you said you'd thought he had a bit more to go on than –"
Harry gritted his teeth and clenched his fists in anger. What did the oaf know? Dumbledore had told him nothing on how to find and destroy the Horcruxes. It was the same as usual, a pattern that had emerged from the day he had re-entered the magical world and could be traced to this very moment; the headmaster would set up a test, either by himself or through the situation at hand, to see if Harry would sink or swim.
For the first time, Harry truly admitted it: Dumbledore had failed him.
He hadn't been trained. He hadn't been told where the Horcruxes were or how to destroy them. And now Dumbledore was gone. And Ron and Hermione had left. And Harry had no idea what came next.
He was seventeen, on the run, hunted by the Ministry and the most dangerous Dark Lord in history. People were dying. People he could've saved if he had just known what to do.
The locket around his neck pulsed coldly.
A flicker of doubt crawled in.
No gold, no allies, no direction. Just a wand and a prophecy.
His opinion of the late headmaster had dwindled significantly over the past few months. As usual, he messed it up by showing useless memories throughout the year; memories that could have all been viewed in one night. Memories that did nothing to help him now, when he was on the run from the government and still had multiple Horcruxes to destroy. But at the time, Harry had thought the headmaster was infallible and believed in him, knowing that Dumbledore would always be around to solve his problems.
If only he had known then how short the aged headmaster's life would be, the present situation may not be so dire.
Or would it still be?
Never had he been truly alone in six years, other than during the summer months when he was confined to his bedroom at Number Four, Privet Drive. Even during the Triwizard Tournament, when Ron hadn't believed that Harry had not put his name in the Goblet of Fire, Hermione, at least, had been by his side.
This was the first time that he was without Hermione's support.
Shouldn't he have learnt his lesson by now? Sirius, Dumbledore, and now Ron and Hermione. This journey was always meant to be his alone.
But what was the point? Harry had no idea what to do, and with Voldemort having taken control of the Ministry of Magic. He had legitimate power behind him.
What could a mere seventeen-year-old wizard do when powerhouses like Albus Dumbledore had been unable to destroy the Dark Lord?
Harry had never felt this useless. He hated himself for being in this situation. Tens of thousands of witches and wizards were dying or were already dead because he, the so-called Chosen One, didn't know how to proceed.
The metal locket around his neck pulsed with an icy chill he had become accustomed to.
A flicker of doubt crawled in.
No gold, no allies, no direction. Just a wand and a prophecy.
Harry snorted bitterly. Only now did he realise that money, information and allies were crucial during a time of war. He had no allies. He did not even have any friends left.
Any knowledge of what was going on outside this bubble was non-existent. As for money, Hermione had taken a little Muggle money before she had left her parents' house, but they realised pretty quickly that it was not enough. Harry knew that he had his parents' vault at Gringotts that would have certainly alleviated their financial strain, but how was he supposed to go to the goblin bank when the Order kept making sure that he was at the Dursleys like a good little boy?
Harry snorted at the irony.
His scar began to prickle again, but he paid it no mind. Voldemort's mood swings were not worth dealing with right now.
He needed allies, but who would be willing to help him? The entire wizarding population in Magical Britain was terrified of even uttering a single word against the new regime that had taken control of the Ministry of Magic. Innumerable people had been ripped apart over the past year and a half, with thousands of Muggle-borns held captive. He had to do something, but what?
"Alone again, just like you always were in childhood, right Harry? Uncle Vernon had it right—you're a freak, unworthy of love or joy. But it doesn't have to continue. You could end it right now. Escape it all… end your life… then you'd finally be with your parents and Sirius again. Your wand is right there… you know the spell… just do it!"
A surge of blinding fury erupted inside Harry's skull as the Horcrux's insidious voice slithered back into his mind. Without hesitation, Harry yanked the chain off his neck and flung the locket across the tent. It landed with a hard thud on the ground. How dare that cursed thing bring up his isolation again? How dare it invoke the Dursleys at a moment when he was already so broken?
His entire being burned with rage at the sight of the vile object. Every fiber in him screamed to obliterate it—completely, violently. Voldemort would pay dearly for this.
His lightning scar throbbed painfully, vision clouded by the pounding in his head.
He approached the ornamented locket where it lay, deceptively inert, looking nothing like the malevolent prison for a fragment of a Dark Lord's soul. Harry's vivid green eyes glowed with a strange, unnatural light. His face was twisted in unfiltered fury. The betrayal of Ron and Hermione was the final blow. The weight of it all had become unbearable.
He locked his gaze on the locket, gripping his wand with such force his knuckles went white.
"Open," he hissed in Parseltongue.
The locket gave a faint click as it sprang open. Behind its two tiny glass windows blinked a pair of living eyes—dark and seductive, eerily similar to Tom Riddle's before they transformed into Voldemort's blood-red slits.
A voice slithered out of the artifact, sharp and cold.
"I've seen what lies within your heart… and it belongs to me."
"Is that so?" Harry whispered with a crazed grin, a cold glint in his eyes. His expression was unsettling—wild and frayed. Magical Britain had finally broken him. Ron Weasley's cowardice had been the spark that shattered the last fragments of Harry Potter's innocence.
"I've seen your dreams, Harry Potter, and I've seen what keeps you awake at night. All you crave is within reach… but so are the things you fear the most…"
Harry erupted in laughter—loud, unhinged, almost deranged. His laughter echoed through the tent like the howls of a madman. How typical of Voldemort. The man had been spouting the same empty threats since first year. He really needed some new lines.
"Oh, dear, sweet Tommy," Harry jeered. "Still crying over your Mummy abandoning you? Your Daddy pretending you didn't exist because of what you were? How tragic. And this is what became of the great Slytherin line? What a fucking disgrace."
In response, the locket shimmered and projected three figures—Sirius Black, James Potter, and Lily Potter. They emerged in eerie clarity, towering over Harry with twisted, furious expressions.
"It's your fault I'm dead," spat the image of Sirius, his voice filled with rage. "If your foolish mind had seen through the trap, I'd still be alive. I broke out of Azkaban for you. I lived off rats just to keep you safe. And this is how you repay me? My blood is on your hands!"
"And us?" sneered James' apparition. "It's because of you that we were killed. You made us targets. Lily and I died to protect you, and you squandered everything we gave you. Why were you even born? I should've ended it the moment I heard about the prophecy!"
"You stole my husband from me," hissed the Horcrux's version of Lily, her eyes glowing red. "You shattered my life. You've brought us nothing but anguish. I despise you! I wish you had never existed! If you had even a shred of guilt for what you've done, you'd put your wand to your head and finish it!"
"DO IT," all three phantoms screamed in unison. "END IT! KILL YOURSELF!"
Harry glared at them, eyes blazing. There was no hesitation, no doubt. He knew better. He'd seen through Voldemort's lies before. He wouldn't be deceived again. His blood boiled with righteous fury as the false images kept shrieking for his death.
But instead of lifting his wand to his own head, Harry raised it at the Horcrux.
"You forget something, Tom. I've relived that night countless times. My mother pleaded for my life and sacrificed her own so that I could live. My father stood—unarmed—against the most feared dark wizard in recent history to allow my mother and I, a chance to escape. And Sirius… yes, he died and I am responsible for that, but I know what I meant to him. Whatever this is you've summoned? It mocks them. It tarnishes their memory. And I won't allow it."
For the first time, Harry let the storm of emotion inside him rise. He embraced every injustice, every scar—Voldemort, the Dursleys, Malfoy, Umbridge, Dumbledore, and now even his so-called friends. All of it poured into him.
"Avada Kedavra!"
A blinding jet of green shot from Harry's wand and struck the locket squarely. There was a sharp, metallic screech and a prolonged, tortured scream that seemed to twist the air itself. Harry stood unmoving, chest heaving with effort, then collapsed to the ground as his legs gave out beneath him.
With a silent wave of his wand, the shattered locket flew into his hand. He looked at the destroyed object, a wave of relief washing over him.
"If I'd known that would work," he murmured through ragged breath, "I would've done it a long time ago."
Then everything went black.
~ Narcissa Malfoy ~
Navigating through the manor she had lived in and maintained for now almost two decades, Narcissa highly doubted she had ever felt this chained in her own home. Ever since the Dark Lord had come back into their lives, this place had been overflowing with all kinds of filthy people and criminals.
As a daughter of House Black, she had been raised to be a lady that could manage her house on the tip of her fingers. But the presence of these… people, seemed to throw her house into a complete disarray.
House Malfoy had always had the Dark Lord's favour. But in the last year and a half, their position had taken a serious hit amongst the ranks of the Death Eaters. First, Lucius managed to lose the orb containing the prophecy that their lord had obsessed over for the last 18 years. And then her sweet Draco had been handed an impossible task, just to humiliate them further.
The Dark Lord had lost his faith in the capability of the Malfoy men. And that showed in his regular meetings.
Yaxley, Avery and Snape were the ones he had begun entrusting important tasks to. Lucius meanwhile had been reduced to managing and overseeing the capture of muggleborns. For a man of his stature and birth, it was done to bring nothing except shame to his name and title.
"Look what we have here!" a gruff, scratchy voice interrupted Lady Malfoy's thoughts. And she instantly knew who it was.
Turning around she came face to face with the weasel-looking man. His eyes roamed over her form with unapologetic perversion, making her feel sick to her stomach as she pulled her robe once again over herself, a poor attempt to conceal her curvy figure from the rat bastard in front of her.
"Is there something you needed, Lord Avery?" she questioned with a raised eyebrow. She was not going to let the man in front of her see how much his presence bothered her. Everyone in her generation knew about Avery's crush on her since their days in Hogwarts together. Her marriage to Lucius had done little to deter him from trying his luck with her.
The only thing that stopped him was the presence of the Dark Lord and the fact that Malfoy family held his confidence. But now, things were vastly different.
"You have not replied to my offer yet, Narcissa," Avery's voice grating her nerves. "Your husband has lost his standing. It's only a matter of time before the Malfoy name is worth just as much as the Weasleys. Become my mistress. It's your only way out of this mess. Tell you what, if you do a good job at taking my cock, I might even make you, my wife."
She lashed her hand out to slap the uncouth asshole, but he caught her arm with ease. Narcissa was never much of a fighter, nor was she as skilled with her wand like her sister, Bellatrix.
"I have been patient with you. I will not be for very long," Avery said with a serious tone, dismissing her by letting go of her hand.
"You will be mine, Narcissa. You have to decide whether it shall be with your consent, or not," he declared as he walked away, making Narcissa slump back against the walls of her manor.
As she looked up, she saw her husband standing with Crabbe and Goyle in the distance, discussing something. But his eyes were on her. She knew he had seen Avery cornering her, and yet, had chosen to do nothing about it.
For the first time in 18 years, she felt a visceral hate for the man she married. She never thought he would become… this.
A man in name alone.
She couldn't do this anymore. Their marriage had lost its meaning a long time ago. The Dark Lord's resurrection and now this were the final nails in sealing their marriage into its long-awaited coffin.
She retreated back to her room and began planning her survival in this entire ordeal. She needed to reclaim her heritage as a Black. And for that she needed the support of the goblin nation.
"Tilly," she whispered with a tired sigh as she sat on her bed. The reality of her situation sinking her bones into exhaustion.
With a pop, their house elf appeared, "Yes, Miss Cissy?" the little elf questioned, awaiting her orders.
"Fetch me some parchment and a quill. I have a job for you," Narcissa said as she began planning her escape from this mess.
~ Harry Potter ~
Groaning, Harry woke up in a bed inside his tent. The weight of using the killing curse, coupled with the emotional torture of losing his friends and the backlash from the destruction of the Horcrux had pushed his already exhausted body beyond its limits.
'But how did I get here?' Harry pondered. The last thing he remembered was passing out in front of his tent after getting rid of the soul piece.
With a pop beside his bedside, Harry was startled as a familiar face with the voice to match entered his field of vision.
"Master Harry Potter sir! How does the Great Harry Potter feel now?" Dobby asked with his big doe eyes and the smile he had seen on the elf's face ever since he freed him from the clutches of the Malfoy patriarch.
"Dobby?" Harry sat up groggily. "How did you find me?" Harry was under the impression that the protective charms around his tent would prevent him from being detected by anyone and anything. Was elf magic capable of bypassing that?
Dobby looked down with a nervous tic in his body language as he began stuttering, "Dobby felt the Great Harry Potter's magic. Dobby never told you this but Dobby bound himself to the Great Harry Potter while working at Hogwarts. Elves like Dobby need magic to live, and the Great Harry Potter sir has lots of it!"
Harry looked at him with surprise evident on his face. After seeing how unhappy the elf was with the Malfoy family, Harry doubted he would ever bond with another wizard. Which is why it made sense to Harry that Dobby was working at Hogwarts.
Sitting up straight and turning towards the elf who still looked down, probably feeling a bit of shame about lying to Harry, the wizard asked him a simple question. "Do you wish to be my elf, Dobby?"
The way the little elf's eyes lit up, someone would assume Harry was Merlin himself.
"Yes, Master Harry Potter sir! Dobby would love to the elf of the Great Harry Potter!" the elf said as he began vibrating and bouncing around excitedly.
Chuckling at the scene in front of him, Harry looked at the little elf and said, "Dobby, I need you to do something for me. If your friend Winky is still around, you can bring her here. I'll bond with her too. And I need you to go and check on Kreacher, the Black family elf. If he is fine, bring him here. I need to check if Grimmauld Palace has been compromised."
"Yes, Master Harry Potter sir! Dobby will be back soon!" and with a snap of his fingers, the elf disappeared.
Hermione would frown left and right on what Harry was about to do, but honestly? Harry couldn't give two shits about the two of them right now. He was only focused on what mattered and that was defeating Voldemort and staying alive.
Now that he was alone with his thoughts, Harry noticed a pleasant smell in the air. A smell that he hadn't taken a whiff of since his time at the Weasleys all those months ago.
The smell of fresh, cooked, homemade food.
A few steps later, he came face-to-face with the literal feast that Dobby had prepared for him before his departure. A few slices of bread, some eggs and sausages, bacon and a bowl of pudding.
A wide smile formed on his face as he took his seat.
"I love magic," was the only thing Harry said before he began digging in.
Author's Note
New story. It's my take on an alternate Deathly Hallows. It's going to feature a more powerful Harry fighting Death Eaters, and lot more of him going around getting laid.
Confirmed witches for the harem: Narcissa, Fleur, Daphne.
Advanced chapters and images on the forbidden site.
p@tre*n.com/LuciferFF
Comment below on who else would you guys like to see.