She was dead.

He was alone.

She was gone.

She was dead.

He was alone.

Harry James Potter gazed down at the grave of his beloved wife, beyond tears. His Hermione, was gone, taken from him, murdered by Draco Malfoy as a last spiteful gesture at his sentencing. A smuggled wand, by a corrupt guard, and now his sunshine was gone.

Harry was beyond wanting revenge on all those who had had brought about all the pain in his life, Malfoy, Voldemort, Dumbledore, The Dursleys, his hate was more all encompassing, he was mad at the very universe. God had done this, The Almighty, had fated him to suffer all his life, to lose his one true love, just when he thought he was at the end of his struggles.

No.

Hell No.

Revenge would be sought. The pain would be reversed and multipled ten fold.

The Elder Wand crackled with electricity in his hand, the stone within the ring on his finger let out a wave of energy and glowed with a corpse light. The cloak which he wore constantly, to hide from the world, blew in a non existant breeze.

Harry Potter disappeared with a crack like lightening, the only sign he had ever been there was the fresh wreath of flowers upon her grave.

It had begun, war was coming, a war no Oracle could have predicted, one which would shake the very foundations of the earth.