A/N: UPDATE: Please see the A/N at the bottom of the page. Thanks!

Lucius Malfoy made his way slowly through the halls of the house in Little Hangleton. He'd requested a meeting with the Dark Lord, because these days, if you weren't one of his favorites, you didn't get to see him. And unfortunately for Lucius, he was not a favorite anymore. Not since he'd lost all his money. Luckily, he was slowly but surely making some of it back, and he had told his son that they would soon be returned to glory.

On top of that, some of the most fortuitous news had been relayed to the world today, and the Death Eaters had been partying ever since. Harry Potter was dead. Apparently, the boy had died from wounds inflicted by a goblin, and the centaurs had buried him deep in the forest. There was something strange about that story for anyone who really thought about it, but most people were preoccupied. Half the Wizarding world mourned the loss of the boy, but the other half had turned their backs on him in the wake of the goblin attack and the deaths of their children. Many of them blamed him for bringing this upon the Wizarding world, and were glad that he was dead.

Lucius, of course, being the sly man he was, saw this as an amazing opportunity to unite wizards everywhere against the common enemy. Under Voldemort, of course. Things had turned bad for people lately, because, with the lack of funds, the economy was tanking. Most business was done on credit, and the value of gold was plummeting, inflation running amok.

Despite the blond man's personal beliefs about muggles and muggleborns, he was not without education. He studied the past across a vast swath of categories and subjects, and had seen how people flock to a leader in times of hardship if said leader can guide them in the right direction, against the right people.

Reaching the door, he saw flickering light coming from under the door, fire likely lit inside on this cold autumn night. His hand knocked lightly on the door, and the shuffle of feet could be heard, before the door was pulled open by Bellatrix Lestrange, who gave him a cutesy smile. Behind the smile though, he could see her disgust and disdain. Had he his power still, he might have cursed her for it. Now, however, because of his position, that would be seen as a direct attack on the Dark Lord, and he would likely be killed for it.

"Well, Luciussss?" came the raspy, serpentine voice of the Dark Lord from his chair in front of the fire. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

Lucius quickly walked over to Voldemort and knelt down to kiss the man's feet, showing full submission in order to make the best impression possible. "Thank you for taking time to see me, my lord. It is greatly appreciated it," he said, keeping his eyes on the floor.

"Lord Voldemort is not unkind, Lucius. Stand, and tell me what you have to say." Voldemort waved his hand and Lucius came to his feet, looking at his lord. The man seemed to glow with some unimaginable force, as if magic itself were in cahoots with him.

"Well, my lord, I've been studying the current political climate, and I think I may have a way to speed up your plans." Voldemort raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, waiting for the blond man to continue. "There would be certain facets of your overall goal that would have to be put on hold for the time being, but I personally feel that the pay off for this would be massive."

The Dark Lord looked none too happy with such a prospect, but with his eyes squinted, he told the man in front of him, "I'm listening."

So Lucius laid it out. "Well, my lord, what do you know of Adolf Hitler?"

In a moment, Voldemort's face was like a lit Christmas tree, jagged and sharp teeth shining in the firelight, ruby orbs glowing in their sockets.

The senior Malfoy couldn't be sure, but he suspected that he had just witnessed the moment his luck turned.

A week had passed in the forest for Harry Potter, and a myriad of things had happened. To begin with, the school and the government had sent numerous search parties into the forest, all of them looking for the boy. None of them ever reached the centaur village, because they had no idea where it was, but they were told that he was dead by the centaurs anyways.

The humans didn't believe them at first, and came back a three times within a week, before they finally gave up. The paper that came out the next day explained why the search might have ended. Lorien brought Harry the Daily Prophet after breakfast on a Monday, in the middle of November. The centaurs had long ago set up a delivery of the newspaper to the forest via owl so that they could keep abreast of the specifics. Divination was for grand events and general ideas.

When Harry was given the paper, he read it. And he was horrified. It vilified him. It made him look like the entire war had been his fault, completely disregarding the transgressions of the goblins against him. The public opinion had turned sour, and apparently, Harry Potter was no longer everyone's favorite wizard.

It was worse. The man they looked to for leadership now was none other than old lizard-lips himself, Voldemort. It appeared that he had toned down the anti-muggle and muggleborn rhetoric, and turned it on the goblins, who were now the common enemy of all. Voldemort also seemed to make conflicting statements about Harry, telling crowds in one sentence that Harry had valiantly fought to fight off the goblin foe, giving up his life for the continuation of the Wizarding world, while in the next, claiming that it was people like him and Dumbledore who were to blame for all the deaths.

Dumbledore was losing steam quickly as well, due to the fact that he had not stopped Harry in his actions, even if he had never openly endorsed what the boy was doing.

The Boy-Who-Lived was not exactly sure what was happening, or why, but he was dead now. At least, that's what everyone thought. And so because of that, he could do nothing. In truth, though, he didn't really want to do anything. He was missing Luna, and he was heart-broken over the deaths from the battle. Deep down inside of him, there were the beginnings of a feeling, the idea that despite how much he hated being blamed for all the deaths and the trouble with the goblins, it might be true. Of course, he could make the claim that the moment the goblins had allowed thievery they had broken the treaty of old and essentially declared war. It didn't change the fact that there were ways to handle the situation better.

He tried to figure out how he had gotten swept up in the winds of revenge that had clouded his mind. There were ways to have vengeance against one's foes, without being blind, and diving in like a maniac. That's what he needed to do. He needed to clear his head. Discover exactly what his goals were, and then figure out how to achieve them.

But in the mean time, he had to earn his keep in the centaur camp, and he had been. On his second morning there, since he was given the first to rest, he got up, face still covered in bandages, and went to Lorien to ask what needed to be done. What could he help with? The young stallion pointed him in the direction of a mother and foal who were hauling wood from just inside the tree line to the far end of the village. "Go ahead and give them a hand," he told Harry. "Let them know that I sent you over, and that you're there to help them."

Harry nodded and started heading over, but his new found acquaintance called out to him, and he stopped.

"Remember, Harry! Not only are you still weak from being injured, but you're also a human. You're nowhere near as physically powerful as a centaur, even a foal. That may change with time, but for right now, take it easy. Only lift what you can, and don't try for any more." When Harry nodded in acknowledgement, Lorien gave a last wave, and trotted off toward the meeting hall.

And so Harry helped the mother and foal haul chopped logs from inside the thick trees, to a wide open space on the opposite side of the living area. He was only able to carry one log at a time, while the mother could carry four, and the foal could carry two. Each log was about thirty pounds, very dense. He spent the mornings doing this activity, although it was not always the mother and foal. He often made small talk with the whoever was lugging the wood, asking about things ranging in importance from what they had eaten, to what the stars showed for the future, or how exactly the centaur magic worked. He was becoming increasingly interested in this, because he was now realizing that without his wand, he was severely limited.

The afternoons consisted of exercise and meditation. He ran around the village for a half an hour, and then he would sit and meditate. One day, a younger female centaur, brown with white splotches, and beautiful flowing blond hair stood before him and asked, "What are you doing, human?" They tended to call him human, rather than Harry, but he couldn't figure out why. Maybe it was just the sort of thing they did.

"I'm practicing Occlumency. It helps me keep my mind clear and focused, and it helps me block Voldemort from getting in my mind," he explained, tapping his temple.

Her eyes widened slightly in alarm, and her voice came out in a whisper. "The Dark One can enter your mind?"

He laughed nervously, understanding what it sounded like. "No, no," he assured her, waving his hands back and forth. "It's more like I can feel his emotions, and sometimes I get visions of what he's doing, but it hurts my scar," he told her, touching his forehead. "Seeing people get tortured and die is not exactly fun when you're trying to get a good night's sleep."

Her fear was gone, and it was replaced by a familiar look. One he had come to severely dislike.

"Don't pity me," Harry commanded her, shaking his head. "Yeah, my life sucks sometimes, but I'm also rich. And sure, that doesn't make for a happy life, since I've got a madman after my head, and the entire Wizarding world turning on me, but when this is all over, I can afford to disappear if I want. That's what it means." He was looking solemnly at the ground, playing with a handful of snow from what had fallen in the night. "I can leave this country, and never come back. I'm a very capable wizard, and all I've got to do now is figure out a way to fix my wand problem, and that's that." He looked up at her and gave her a big smile, to which she responded with a soft laugh and a promise.

"Well, if you ever need something," she offered, "and I can give it, I promise to do my best to help you." She held a hand down to him. "Deal?"

Harry took the proffered hand, and shook. "Deal."

His evenings were spent helping the centaurs make dinner in any way possible. If they needed something gathered from the gardens, he did it. If they wanted him to chop herbs or carrots or some other ingredient, he did it. If they wanted him to stand at a pot and stir non-stop for ten minutes, he did that too. His arm was sore by the end of that, of course, but one, it built muscle, and two it was the least he could do.

He helped serve the centaurs when it was time for dinner, and he was served last, being human. However, he always had more than enough to fill himself. The food was usually some sort of animal meat, whether it was deer, bird, or some other creature that Harry had no interest learning existed in the forest. Often times it was made in a stew, allowing a medium amount of meat for the number of bodies, to go a long way. There was also a salad of nuts and berries, as well as leafy greens. In the forest, between the two villages, was a vast expanse of land that held a garden. It served a couple of purposes. The first, and most important, was that if provided food for the two villages.

It was sectioned off into different sections, one holding root vegetables, another holding things like lettuce and broccoli, a third with trees for fruit, and so on. Harry learned one day, when he was sent to gather food there, that a sort of invisible line had been agreed upon, which split the garden in half between the villages. It wasn't a strictly enforced line, and if one side had a shortage for some reason, they could take from the other side. However, in the interest of keeping things fair and balanced, each village respected this boundary.

Harry had been walking through the garden, looking for some broccoli, and while he had seen some good plants to pick from so far, he wanted to find the perfect on to prove his worth. His eyes on the ground, he didn't see the centaur watching him from the other side. Harry did, however, hear him.

"Hey!" came the shout. It was a calm call, but it had the undertone of 'Listen to me.' Harry looked up and the centaur nodded his head to the side, saying "Look to your left."

Harry looked, and saw the garden. He heard, "Now look to your right."

He looked a second time, and again, he saw more of the garden. The centaur answered his question before he could ask. "Everything behind you, following the line you just saw, is for your village." And with that, the centaur turned, hands full of beets, and walked away.

The boy with the healing facial scars asked about the situation at dinner, and it was explained to him. It made sense, of course, but it also surprised him a bit. Out in the forest, the centaurs seemed to act as one, but here in the villages, it was like they were two groups completely. It was yet another thing that Harry couldn't quite figure out, and put down as 'the way things are.'

The second benefit for the garden was that it gave the two villages a way to access each other without having to travel through the forest. This was especially important for the young ones, who might have friends in the other village. An adult centaur could travel through the forest no problem, but a foal was easy prey for some of the beasts in the darkness. And oftentimes, there were no adults who had the time to accompany them to go and play.

At Hogwarts, Severus Snape had been speaking with Minerva McGonagall quite often. The two of them felt, much to their own chagrin, that Dumbledore may be losing sight of what was important. He had allowed Harry to run free, and despite the fact that they liked the boy (for Severus, it was more that he didn't dislike him), the Boy-Who-Lived had run too far, too fast. It was because of the boy's sudden freedom and lack of understanding about how this world works, that the goblins had attacked, the Wizarding world found itself at war again and Voldemort was gaining power.

The two professors, along with the help of other staff, had organized an extra-curricular defense program that Dumbledore had wanted, and that was similar to the one Harry had started, in order to prepare the students for the possibility of war at the schools gates. Within 24 hours of the first meeting of this group, which all students had to attend, the ministry was making official inquiries.

They wanted to know who was running it, what was being taught, and more importantly why it was being taught. Dumbledore, proving he still had some semblance of trickery and clear headedness left in him, told the ministry that it was to fight the goblins. The students were being trained in strategy and magic, coming to understand the best way to turn a difficult situation to your favor. For example, if they should ever find themselves in a tunnel facing a goblin, they would know how to utilize their surroundings to defeat their enemies, while making sure they didn't die from a giant rock dropping on their heads.

Granted, there would be far more than that being taught in this group, but it was enough to placate the Ministry for the time being.

The Ministry was another issue that was a major problem for men like Dumbledore. It was turning more and more to supporting the PWP, or the People's Wizarding Party, as Voldemort had taken to calling his group. His cause.

Lucius Malfoy was almost back to his position of prestige that he had been at before his money was stolen away. For one thing, his plan for Voldemort's rise to power and popularity had been a major success. The man now had followers from all walks of Wizarding life. Dumbledore and his ilk were proving a bit of an obstacle, but the man's long-time support of the Boy-Who-Lived was proving to be a problem for the light side. Many of the citizens who had suffered losses at the hands of goblins were angry that the Headmaster had given Harry the freedom to do what he wished, and as such, had turned to the person who would grant them the vengeance they desired.

It was an amazingly quick gathering of power, for within a single week, people seemed to have forgotten the fact that this was once the man who had terrorized them and killed their families. It was almost unreal. Had the conundrum been put forth to one of these people, they would likely have said, "Yes, I know. But there are times when one must let bygones be bygones in order to fight the real threat."

Most people didn't know why they were so willing to support this megalomaniac, but they seemed to enjoy his public speeches. He gave four of them within the first week after the Battle of Hogsmeade, as it had been named. Voldemort had also managed to make it look like his Death Eaters had been in Hogsmeade with the purpose of a pre-emptive counter attack on the goblins, rather than an attack of their own.

It was also a real problem for Amelia Bones. Her political opponent for the coming election was a staunch supporter of Voldemort, and where he had originally been keeping quiet about that association, he was now being more vocal in his ideology, and the Dark Lord was backing him, essentially guaranteeing him the position of Minister of Magic.

Lucius was stunned at the speed with which this all happened, but he was also aware of the fact that his Lord was a great tactician, and he was confident that there was a perfectly good reason for what was happening. Now, however, Lucius was to meet with the Dark Lord, but for what, he was unsure.

With a knock, he opened the door to find Lord Voldemort sitting at a table with Bellatrix on his right, and Pettigrew on his left.

"Lucius, how nice of you to join us. Have a seat," said Voldemort.

Lucius sat, after bowing first, and glanced at Bellatrix, who seemed more somber than usual, but had a smirk on her face never the less. Pettigrew was still shaking in his boots, but that seems to be modus operandi for him. "My lord, how may I serve you?"

"Harry Potter is still alive." Lord Voldemort had his hands touching at the fingers in a gesture eerily similar to that of Dumbledore, but the blond certainly didn't notice, because his brain had stopped. Just for a moment though.

He started laughing, and said, "I'm sorry my lord… haha… I thought you said," he gasped for air, "that Harry potter was still alive!"

"CRUCIO!"

The floor echoed with a thud as the elder Malfoy fell out of his chair and rolled around, screaming in agony under the curse of his master. After a moment, the curse was lifted, and he remained on the floor, unable to move. The words of his master reached his ears anyways.

"If you ever laugh at me again, it will be your life, rather than your comfort, that is forfeit. Now get up!" The Dark Lord was fuming. If there was one thing he hated, it was being laughed at. And while he knew that Malfoy hadn't intended it to be disrespectful or even directed at him, it didn't matter. This was serious. He watched as the man crawled back in his seat, trying to look dignified in front of Bella. "Now, let me try this again. Harry Potter is alive. I know this, because I have an informant inside the Forbidden Forest near Hogwarts, and said informant has seen the boy."

"What are we going to do then my Lord?" asked the blond, after taking a moment to process the new information.

"For now? Nothing. My informant is working on a plan that he believes will effectively neutralize Potter when the time comes, but until then, I want you to prepare a force of the finest Death Eaters that will be able to march into the forest and kill the boy if the plan fails." He was purposely leaving out the fact that he was the only one that could kill the boy, afraid of what sort of questions that would lead to and what it might mean. "Are we understood?"

Lucius nodded, and with that, he was dismissed. He went home and headed immediately for his office to spend time figuring out who would be best suited for an excursion into the forest. The first and only name that came to mind at the moment was Fenrir, the werewolf, so he wrote to the beast, and then started working on a list of potentials. He had no idea about the time restraints and knowing the Dark Lord, he could be asked tomorrow for that group to be prepared. With no time to lose, Lucius got to work.

UPDATE:

A/N: This story is officially abandoned. I haven't even thought about writing fanfiction for like 9 years, but I think I may start another story, for funsies.
Keep an eye out for that, and thank you to everyone who has ever read, commented, favorited, followed, etc. It is very kind.