A/N- Hello everyone,

This is my first Harry Potter fic that I've decided to post. It will be a Harmony/time travel fic, and it is rated M for the obvious reasons. Violence, death, mentions of rape and torture, as well as sexual content will appear in this story (although I will try to keep the smut to a minimum compared to other fics I've written). There will also be character bashing and characters that are evil/good when normally they are the opposite. There will also be some slight crossover content, but no direct crossover between worlds. It will be more powers and abilities than anything else. You'll be able to tell.

The general disclaimer applies, and applies to all chapters. I own none of the characters in this fic, so on, so forth. Reviews are always appreciated.

Enjoy.

Prologue to The Return

Chapter 1: For me, there is only victory

May 20th, 1998

It was an unseasonably cold day in the city of London. Normally the month of May brought moderate temperatures, spring blooms, and the end of the bleak winter months. It was supposed to be the wonderful time when warmth begins to return, and the beginnings of summer can be felt, but not this day. This day the citizens of London were forced to endure gray skies and cool winds biting into them as they went about their bustling lives. An occasional rumble of thunder in the distance made them turn up their collars and scurry indoors to avoid getting caught in a storm.

The few that were out on the streets looked about themselves almost furtively, their postures rigid and nervous. And why shouldn't they be? For nearly a year the whole country had been plagued with strange disappearances and deaths, with no sign of slowing down. It was almost a daily occurrence to read a missing persons report or a column detailing the mysterious death of some poor bloke or another. And the people still hadn't forgotten incident with the Brockdale Bridge, and the twelve poor souls that lost their lives just a few short years prior. It seemed that things had taken a turn for the grisly ever since.

The worst of it was that nobody seemed to know what the cause of it all was. There were weekly press conferences from London's finest advising everyone on the latest safety measures: lock your doors, travel in pairs, stay in well lit places. It all sounded very comforting, until one of the reporters would inevitably ask what the cause of it all was. The effect would be instantaneous. The man at the microphone, almost always someone different now due to public backlash, would pale and stutter something about disturbing trends, crime waves, things of that nature. It also almost always meant the end of the segment as the speaker would practically sprint from the stage.

Yes, it was a strange, dreadful time. And on this unseasonably cold day, the latest image on the front page of the papers echoed the sentiments of the city's inhabitants, the dreadful feeling that had been building in the guts of them all. It was an image of words on a brick wall. Not simply painted, as normal graffiti would be. No, this act defied logic and baffled the policeman sent out to it. The words were burned on and burned deep. Deep into the bricks as if it had been made with a gigantic brand. The chilling message read as such: THIS IS ONLY THE BEGINNING. This was bad enough, but below the message had been another line, one erased by police before reports could arrive. It added to their complete befuddlement, as the words made little sense. Written in what could only have been blood, it said:

MUGGLES AND MUDBLOODS, YOU'RE ALL GOING TO DIE

Deep beneath the streets of London, in a building that was hidden from all that was mundane, the source of it all could be found.

The once proud halls of what had been the Ministry of Magic were now empty and cold, despite once being the thriving center of wizarding society. Many of the lanterns lining the halls, suspended there and perpetually lit by means of magic had long since gone out. They were no longer needed of course, as the greater part of the ministry had quite recently been dismissed. Departments were shut down, and many of the witches and wizards that ran them had been fired, quit, or simply (and most commonly) disappeared.

Now it was a deserted, hollow place that felt every bit a mortuary as opposed to the metropolis it had been. Where once one could not hear anything from one side of the hall to another due to the sheer noise of the place, now the drop of a coin would echo. Yes, the only noise that regularly permeated the former Ministry now was the scant sound of dripping water, coming down from the London streets high above and leaking out through age old cracks in the structure.

It was unusual then, to say the least, when one of the supposedly dormant floos roared to life, cutting through the silence like a cannon blast and then gone once again barely a few seconds later. Soon enough the sounds of footfalls began to echo in the main chamber once more. It was the sound of only a single person walking, but it echoed down the halls and back, giving the faint impression that there could have been more.

The slap of his bare feet echoed as this mysterious visitor walked curtly across the main chamber. He was dressed in flowing robes as black as midnight, and despite the slight smirk on his face there was an urgency in his piercing eyes. He had come there with a purpose this time, unlike the rare evening when he would walk the halls at his leisure. He paused only for one, brief moment as he passed what had once been the central fountain in the middle of the atrium. Now it was a statue of himself, erected in his honor and meant to commemorate his victory.

Ah, victory. The thought caused the smirk on his face to twist into a feral grin. Yes, he had succeeded at last. The ministry was no more, having finally submitted themselves to his rule and his whim. It had been easy enough to topple the failed government of magical Britain. He had already had control of it for some time, and once the events at Hogwarts just a few weeks prior had come to a close, they had welcomed him. Mere days after the battle he'd had his puppets in the Wizengamot call for a vote, and by the end of the week he was named to the newly minted position of Supreme Chancellor. His was now the final word in all of Britain, his new position granting him power to overrule all else.

His word was literally law now, he thought almost gleefully as he resumed his path. All of it had come together so perfectly he almost didn't believe it himself. Within hours of being named to his new post the Dark Lord began shutting down most of the ministry. The departments created during the rule of his puppets were left intact, but the majority of it he had disbanded. It had been a long few weeks weeding out those that were loyal to him and those that were not, but as of now his government was solid and controlled all.

Broken from his reverie by a locked door, the Dark Lord wasted no time on it. Drawing a long stick of elder from within his robes, he simply blasted the offending barrier from existence. He took a moment to admire the damage he had done. The door had been completely disintegrated, a charred and smoking hole in the wood and stone left in its wake. A bit more to the wanton side than he had meant it to be, he made a mental note that perhaps he needed to divert a bit more time into learning the exact limitations of his new body, at least when coupled with his wand.

He continued on, twirling the elder wand, the most powerful wand of all in his fingers as he walked. Indeed, it was HIS wand, he thought. It was HIS wand, just as this was HIS world now. In truth he knew they had always been his, it had simply taken time and planning for it all to come to fruition. Now here he was, able to walk freely among the former Ministry of Magic with no attempt at hiding himself or his true nature.

The second step in his conquest had been to relocate his new government. There had only been one suitable place for it of course. He had allocated much of his new resources to rebuilding the hallowed halls of Hogwarts. He had always coveted the school, and it was within his grasp once more. He had taken up the Great Hall as his Grand Chamber, where his throne was located. The Dark Lord had made of point of putting his Throne exactly where the headmasters chair had been placed at faculty table.

It was after all, only fitting.

Now that he had the absolute control he had always desired, he could begin to truly focus on the next stage of reaching his TRUE objective. The first steps to which laid deep within, in the Department of Mysteries. He was only missing a few pieces now, and soon he would be able to implement the plan he had been forming since his youth.

As thing were now, even the boy having escaped after the final battle at Hogwarts wasn't very troubling. He had to admit, the boy's pluck had surprised him in the final moments, so much so that he'd been too shocked to stop his escape. But it had mattered little. His loyalists would find him soon enough, and the Dark Lord would make him PAY for defying him. The pain that Potter would feel would be endless, and only when the boy was completely and utterly broken would he allow him to perish.

It had taken decades for him to reach where he was now. Decades of careful planning and manipulations on his part, both to the followers of the dark and the light. But now, now he was free to find the final pieces to the puzzle and rid the world of those disgusting muggles once and for all. Nothing would stand in his way now. Not the boy, whom he had already ruined in the public eye. Not the government, he now controlled it. Not that pathetic fool who he had ALLOWED to call himself a dark lord for all these years, he was now dealt with for good. No, not even fate itself could stop him, for with his new body combined with the elder wands power, none could challenge him.

A feral grin once again spread on his face as he continued onward. He was the true dark lord of this world. Even Gellert was nothing compared to him. He had won.

Albus Dumbledore.