Prologue - I'm back, bitch.
Harry Potter had defeated the dark lord. His friends had abandoned him, and now he was living in a small apartment in Muggle London working at a dead end job. He had little to no money, and he was sick of it. He was sick of his hell of a life, and he wanted a change.
"You must be the change you wish to see in the world." Ghandi had said, and Harry slowly repeated these words.
An evil grin formed his face. He was going to be the change. He was going to do it. He dressed in his battle robes and apparated into the darkest place he could think off: Knockturne Alley.
Knockturne Alley had lost much of it's gloom and shady businesses with the defeat of Voldemort. But there was always something shady in there for everyone and anyone who had the right amount of funds. Knocturne Alley operated like how a gang would, the leader being the one who was the meanest, roughest, and generally the biggest prick. The Alley had a leader, it always had, and that leader's name was Fenrir Greyback. The citizens who populated the area long ago accepted Greyback's rules and unfair illegal taxes; nobody challenged the feared Werewolf. All who did ended up being mysteriously killed. But Harry thought differently. Harry thought it was time for change.
Harry Potter, hero or would be dark lord? That was a question that had plagued many minds of The Wizarding world. They debated over such a petty issue, but Harry thought it trivial that such fuss was made just because he used a whole lot of dark magic to defeat Voldemort. His goody goody friends had shunned him after his victory, and with his fortunes squandered over searching for Horocruxes, he was left a bum. Only bums did not have such bad reputation among the common folk of Wizarding Britain.
He had found it disgusting how his friends abandoned him when he showed the slightest hints of insanity. But his thoughts were a little biased and exaggerated. Harry's friends, Ron and Hermoine had really left him because they felt creeped out by Harry's crimson eyes, and his terrible mood swings. Also using the crucatious curse on the order members when they failed might have had something to do with it.
After the death of Dumbledore, Harry's last thread of innocence was destroyed and he took control of the order, using brutal methods to fight anyone who stood in his way. The minister of magic posing problems for Potter? Kill him. Death eaters holding the a hundred muggle children hostage? Harry's orders would be to kill them all. His status as the legendary hero had brought him some limited time of freedom, as in nobody was brave enough to try to arrest Potter, but the aurors and the Minister of Magic, Fudge, had promised to take action if he did anything illegal.
With no friends, no fortune, and nobody to hire him in the wizarding world he had been forced to flee to the muggle world, working in jobs that he thought of as "dirty." That lasted for hardly a few months, before Harry was itching for a fight. And where better to pick a fight than in Knocturne Alley? Harry had been thinking about doing this for a while now. He had been thinking of making a comeback to the Wizarding world, only not as a hero, rather as a man who tolerated nothing. As a general who's only ambition was winning without care of the costs. Most of all, as a Leader for the dark side.
Harry strutted arrogantly down the stinky path to a cafe where he knew that most of the alley slums hung out. He had done some espionage work back in his day over there, he knew how things worked around here. He was ready to change them. The lone figure lumbered his way into the cafe, looking around in the dim lighted and dirty room, he caugght sight of Greyback in the midst of the crowd.
Greyback was easy to spot, he was the most ferocious creature in the cafe and everybody was crowding around him. He was having a drinking contest with a few of his werewolf buddies, and was drunk as hell. Perfect, Harry thought. This will make it easier for me. Sneering in the direction of the alpha wolf, he sat in a corner and ordered a beer from the passing waiter.
"Bring me a firewhiskey, sir." He slurred in the face of the waiter. "And make it quick!" Sneering at the big belly of the waiter, he waved his hand in a dismissal way. "Yes sir," The waitor replied. "Right away."
As Harry waited for his drink he carefully watched Greyback and his pack of cheering hooligans. He would need to wait for the right time to challenge Greyback, the time when he was rioting or fighting with his pack. Harry could not afford to be killed because of foolish loyalty from his enemies. He was far too cunning for that.
"Here you go," The waiter growled, giving Harry a cold bottle of firewhiskey. "Would you like anything else?" Harry shook his head, and went back to watching his would be enemy. Harry tried to analyze the werewolf's weaknesses. Discreetly he conjured a silver rod under the table with his wand, and used a sticking charm to attach it under the table. He could use it if he needed to, a bit unfair but Harry didn't give a shit. He was ruthless.
Finishing his drink, he walked over to Greyback, and conjuring a chair he sat down next to him. Fenrir Greyback simply sneered at the man beside him. "You up for a challenge, boy?" He asked.
"What kind of challenge?" Harry wearily questioned. "Does it involve anything... illegal?"
"Haha, oh boys did you hear that?" Greyback chuckled evilly, nudging his fellows with his elbows. His pack started laughing along with him, somewhat reluctantly.
"The challenge is simple, boy. We are having a drinking contest, wanna join?" Greyback sneered at Harry thinking his hesitation showed weakness.
"Alright, why not?" Harry asked before grabbing an unopened bottle of gin and chugging it down. Laughing Greyback joined him. Together they started drinking away the night, and while Greyback started getting sloppy in his movements and speech Harry remained exact, graceful, and observant. His sharp eyes judged the right moment for him to start a riot.