July 31st 2002

Harry Potter downed another shot of firewhiskey, running his hands through his wild and messy jet black hair for the umpteenth time that day. The amber liquid burned as it went down his throat, making him cough and splutter.

He wasn't usually one to get drunk. In fact, Harry Potter pretty much never got drunk. It just wouldn't do for people to see the great Harry Potter anything other than perfectly composed. Or at least, that was what Ginny would say.

Today Harry didn't care what Ginny would say. He also didn't care what Minister Hermione or Captain Ron, as they preferred to be called nowadays, would say either. And he certainly didn't care what the damn papers would think. He just plain didn't care anymore. Because what was the point? Everyone Harry had thought was a friend, everyone that he had thought he had known, they had all lied. Every. Last. One.

There was a knock at his door, but he ignored it. It seemed there was a never ending stream of people who wanted to speak with the vaunted Director of the DMLE. The job had been thrust upon him as soon as he had graduated from the Auror Academy. Lack of manpower, they had said. He snorted again, coughing up some firewhiskey.

What utter rubbish. Harry had never been able to prove it, but he had always had the sneaking suspicion it was more that they needed him as a poster boy to retain any legitimacy. After the war had ended, people had been rightly wary of having anything to do with the ministry. If it wasn't for Harry's presence, well, he was sure none of this would have happened. He had been so naive.

The knocking continued, now turning into more of an urgent pounding, but Harry tuned it out. He finished off the last of the bottle, dumping it all into his tall coffee mug, and tossing the bottle into his fireplace, watching dispassionately as the orange flames turned bright red for a few moments. The door finally burst open.

"Director Potter!" someone called out. Harry swiveled his chair back to the front of the room, surveying the intruders. A whole platoon of aurors had burst into his office, wands drawn and smiles of triumph on their ugly faces. It looked like his time was up.

Harry grimaced, he hadn't expected Hermione to act so soon. No matter what anybody said, he had always thought Hermione belonged more in Ravenclaw than in the house of the bold. Hermione would have preferred to fight him in the Wizengamot, as she had been doing for the last few months. She would never make such a daring move. This had Ron spelled all over it.

"How can I help you gentleman?" he asked politely, taking a sip from his coffee mug and pretending like he didn't know exactly what was going on. Discreetly, he pushed a button under his desk, starting a silent countdown. He might not have expected it right now, but he was more than prepared for this eventuality.

The man who seemed to be the leader of the rogue group of aurors, a short, pug-faced young man who seemed familiar to Harry, sneered at him.

"Director Potter, we have evidence that you are the one behind the Buckingham Palace bombings. You're under arrest, surrender your wand at once. We won't ask again," the uppity youngster who looked fresh out of the academy threatened.

Outside Harry's face didn't change at all, looking down at them irritably as if they had interrupted his morning coffee and nothing more. But inside, Harry was panicking. If they had captured someone high enough up to leak his involvement, then it was all over. Hermione had finally backed him into a corner.

Minister Granger had all but surrendered the Ministry of Magic to the muggles. She had been smart about it too, not that Harry would have expected anything else from someone of her intellect.

Her status as a war hero, and perhaps more importantly, being known as the best friend of Harry Potter, had given her immense popularity that she had ridden all the way to the position of Minister of Magic. Harry had been happy for her at the time, but looking back on it, his personal relationship with her had blinded him to the danger.

She had started off getting rid of the old laws that nobody really cared about. Silly stuff like the prohibition of publicly carrying bloody axes in the ministry, or pumpkin juice being the only drink allowed in wizengamot meetings. For a time, Harry thought she was trying to make things more fair, more modern. But it quickly became apparent that Hermione had an agenda. A sinister agenda.

Anything law, or custom that was even remotely ancient, Minister Granger gutted it. And she didn't stop there. Her proposals for reform became more and more radical. Any one who opposed her, any traditionalist who balked at her running roughshod over millenia worth of precedent, they were quickly ousted from the Ministry, never to be heard from again.

Whether it was conveniently finding a stash of "dark artifacts," during an unannounced no-knock pre-dawn raid, or catching them practicing "forbidden magic," with invasive surveillance. All her opponents disappeared. It was surely only a coincidence that they were replaced by her allies.

The aurors inched forward when he didn't react, and Harry knew the clock was ticking. He had to play for time. "On whose authority?" he blustered. "I am Director of the DMLE. And as an auror, you report to me. I don't know what this nonsense about a bombing is about, but I'm still the head of this department, and therefore your boss. You will show me respect," Harry demanded. "Now stand down before I have you arrested for treason!" He instilled some magic into his voice, and was pleased when his would-be captor hesitated.

It worked for about two seconds, that was, until the masked man next to him elbowed him hard in the gut, disengaging the man from the brief trance Harry had sent him into. Harry scowled at the masked man.

That was another of Hermione's "innovations." Determined to prove the equality of muggles once and for all, she had ordered the Department of Mysteries to work with the muggle scientists, trying to create a supersoldier immune to magic. They had succeeded, partially.

The "Faceless Ones," as they would infamously become known, had faster reflexes, higher stamina, and more magical resistance than any muggle. But they paid a high price for their gifts.

Put simply, the faceless ones were a genetic abomination. They were something that would never come about naturally. They were only possible as a result of unspeakable human experimentation, and tampering with things that should never have been tampered with.

Contrary to what Hermione wanted everyone to think, magic wasn't just a recessive gene in human DNA. It was a sentient life force that flowed through all living beings. And when you messed around with it, you always lost. Voldemort had taught Harry that much.

And so when Hermione had tried to play god creating something that went against the natural order of magic, well, magic lashed out. The result was the faceless ones weren't just called that for their masks. They were literally faceless.

And they weren't completely immune to magic either, only resistant. That was why they couldn't completely replace the normal human aurors, and had to be dispersed into regular units. The only thing they could completely shake off was mind magic. Nobody knew why, or how, but Harry suspected it had something to do with their faces. Most mind magic worked by entering through the eyes, but if you had none, it was like trying to open a door that had no handle.

"Minister Granger has personally given me the authority to make this arrest. You will now be escorted back to the atrium, where you will be formally charged, then sent to Azkaban to await trial!" the pug nosed man said, advancing even closer.

Suddenly Harry was overcome with a sense of deja vu. He remembered a time not so long ago, in his fifth year, when this exact scenario had played out before. Only then Harry had been on the other side of the desk that time. And it had been Dumbledore, not him, facing imminent arrest.

Harry burst out laughing, stopping the aurors in their tracks once more. Maybe it was the firewhiskey, or maybe it was just the irony of it all, but Harry just couldn't help but follow in Dumbledore footsteps one last time. He was sure the great manipulator would get a kick out of it from wherever he was rotting in hell.

"Ah," said Harry gently, repeating those words from his youth, "I thought we might hit this snag."

The smiles of triumph flickered nervously for a second. "Snag? Director Potter?" the man whose name Harry just remembered asked.

"Yes, Lieutenant Parkinson," said Harry apologetically, kicking himself for not seeing the resemblance before. The Slytherin sneer was an identical match to his almost certain sister. "You seem to be laboring under the delusion that I'll - what is the phrase? - come quietly. I have no intention of being sent to Azkaban," Harry recited from memory.

Dumbledore's little speech worked like a trick, as the temperature dropped several degrees. They were watching him like a hawk, waiting for him to make the next move, and Harry was only too happy to oblige. Just then, he felt the silent countdown near its finish, and he ducked down beneath the desk, pushing it over in the aurors direction.

KABOOM! The desktop that he had loaded with explosives two weeks prior exploded outwards, sending deadly shrapnel cleaving through the aurors. With feet swaying and ears ringing, Harry slowly got to his feet. He then promptly emptied the contents of his stomach.

There was blood everywhere. The bomb had worked a little too well. There was nothing but bits and pieces of the aurors left, with body parts flung haphazardly all over what had formerly been his office. Distantly, he heard an alarm blaring, and he knew he had to get out of there.

Harry stumbled from the room gripping his wand, trying to clear the alcohol induced haze from his mind. Why did he have to drink today? "Stupid Harry, stupid, stupid, Harry," he cursed himself as raced down the halls, trying to get to the atrium before they sealed the whole place off.

He ran around a corner and almost fell over the railing in his rush before he balanced himself back. He quickly ducked down and surveyed the atrium from his vantage point before he could be spotted. What he saw made his stomach sink.

The place was absolutely swarming with aurors and faceless ones, but that wasn't even the worst of it. It looked like the muggles had finally made their move. Muggle soldiers with muggle weapons were pouring in from a hole in the ceiling. And Hermione was right there at the front, smiling gleefully as members of the wizengamot were rounded up and arrested.

This presented Harry with a dilemma. By some stroke of miraculous luck that could only happen to a Potter, it looked like the muggles had blasted a hole in the ministry at the exact same time as his bomb went off. They weren't even looking for him yet. Harry was sure that if he got his invisibility cloak out, he could sneak past them and escape easily.

But Harry discarded that option almost immediately. What would be the point? To form an underground resistance? He tried to laugh, but it came out as a hiccup. He had already tried that. If taking out their leaders and rulers didn't work, nothing would. There were just too many of them.

Wizardkind really should have taken care of the muggle problem a long time ago. Long before they developed bombs that could destroy cities, and guns that could shoot bullets faster than the eye could blink. Surely someone must have seen this coming, right?

Apparently not. The cowardly ministries had preferred to hide, supremely sure that the muggles had posed no threat. Anyone who suggested otherwise was instantly labeled as "dark." Now instead of wizards subjugating muggles, the muggles will subjugate us, Harry thought darkly.

If only he could go back and stop it all… go back and… wait, why couldn't he go back? He glared down at Hermione as her now hated voice sounded in his mind.

"McGonagall told me what awful things have happened when wizards have meddled with time..." she had said that night when they saved Sirius. Just then Hermione looked up in his direction, and Harry only just managed to duck beneath the railing in time.

"Okay, Harry, think, think goddamnit!" he muttered furiously. McGonagall was a professor, and the professors had every incentive to discourage Hermione from messing with time, whether or not it was actually dangerous. They wouldn't want her going back in time to cheat would they? For all he knew magic itself might physically prevent anyone from causing a paradox. In any event, he couldn't trust what McGonagall said.

Plus, Harry had always found it suspicious how smooth that night went. How Dumbledore instantly came up with a plan, how Hermione had a bloody time machine just when they needed one. It was all too convenient.

It was lucky that they kept time-turners here in the Ministry. He would have to get to them before the muggles did. But just as he was about to sneak off to the lift, a scream sounded out from below, so he peaked back over the edge.

A familiar blonde girl was being roughly body searched. Harry instantly recognized her. It was Daphne Greengrass. After the war, they sorta had an on and off again relationship. It never went far, especially not after Ginny had made him propose. But she had always been kind, and he considered her a friend for that. When the muggle soldier got a little too into searching her chest for hidden weapons, he knew he had to act. Curse his noble saving people thing.

With the elegance of a trained acrobat, he vaulted over the ledge and jumped down onto the assaulting soldier. The man never saw it coming. He crumpled into a heap under the sudden attack from above. Harry finished him off with a stunner. He helped Daphne to her feet with a flourish.

"Probably not the best time to say this, but you're looking well Daphne," he told her with his best roguish smile.

The girl slapped a hand to her forehead. "Potter. I should have known. No one else would be that noble, yet stupid. Did you even look where I was before leaping to my rescue?" she asked.

"You wound me milady," said Harry dramatically. "Your safety is my first priority, above all other petty concerns."

Daphne was not impressed. "Perhaps you should take a look now then, O dashing chivalrous knight?" she pointed behind him.

He glanced behind him and saw fifty muggle soldiers, all pointing dangerous looking guns at them. "Uh oh.." he said.

"Uh oh is right.." Daphne sidled up to him, whispering in his ear, and sending shivers down his spine. "What's the plan now, Romeo?" she continued in a normal voice, pulling away.

Harry stared at her, trying to figure out what her game was, but he shook his head and refocused. "I'll figure out something," he said defensively. He thought he might have heard her mutter something about gryffindors and men, but he had other things on his mind now.

"Better figure it out fast, looks like we're about to be gunned down," she said, once again whispering in his ear. Indeed, the muggles had raised their guns and looked ready to kill.

Harry nodded. This was bad. Also, Daphne smelled like lilacs. Where had that thought come from? He pushed her away. "Have you got a wand?" he asked in a whisper.

She shook her head. "I did until that idiot you landed on took it from me," she said.

"Right," Harry whispered back. "In my right boot, I have a spare wand. Take it, and when I say three, throw your strongest exploding charm."

Maybe it was his imagination, but Daphne lingered a long time brushing down his leg to get his spare wand.

She gasped. "Isn't this.."

"Nevermind that now," said Harry. "One, two.."

But before he could reach three, the soldiers parted, and in between their ranks walked one Minister Granger.

She was only twenty-two years old, but she looked twice her age. Her old brown frizzy hair was wilted and gray now. She had lines and wrinkles going all over her face. But the worst part was the savage smile she was wearing proudly.

"Harry, Harry, Harry.." said Hermione in a supremely disappointed voice. Harry idly wondered if she had taken lessons from their old headmaster. "How did it come to this? What happened to the boy I used to know? The boy who loved muggles?"

Her self-righteous voice made his blood boil. "He is dead!" Harry spat. "And you have killed him! Why Hermione? Why do you betray me?" Harry thought he knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from her, make her admit it.

"Oh Harry," she sighed in a put upon voice. "This again? I told you. You had to die. We had to make sure that Voldemort was really gone. We only did what was necessary for the greater good."

Harry grit his teeth. Her dismissive justification made his blood boil. "So all this then," he said, gesturing around. "Surrendering the Ministry of Magic to muggles? Lying to me? All for the greater good?"

Hermione smiled smugly. "Of course. I know you're smarter than this, Harry. It should be obvious, even to someone who got a Dreadful in history of magic," she said, sneering condescendingly. "All I've done is get rid of an outdated, archaic, bigoted system!" she angrily spat.

"If you think the muggles will treat you fairly, Hermione, then you're a fool!" Harry replied seethingly. "Once they finish using you to take us down, they'll turn on you! Don't you see Hermione? You're a rare case! The muggles will never accept you! I would know! Just ask the Durselys what they think of magic. At best, they'll treat you as a freak to be sent off to an institution for the "gifted." At worst they'll lock you up in a lab, never to see the light of day again!"

But Hermione refused to see reason. "Lies! My parents are muggles, and they never treated me with anything but respect!" she insisted.

"And where are they now, Hermione? You obliviated them and sent them off to Australia! Was that also for the greater good?" Harry asked.

Hermione glared at him, but didn't answer his question. Instead saying, "This was inevitable. I've just helped usher in a new age. A more fair, equal age!"

Harry gripped his wand tightly. "And all it cost us was our freedom.." he whispered seethingly, glaring right back at her.

She turned her nose up at him. "We'll see. Get rid of them," she said, turning to the soldiers, before walking away.

Once she was out of sight, Harry nodded at Daphne, who had watched the whole exchange silently.

"Three!"

"Bombarda!" they shouted at the same time.

The soldiers were blown off their feet, completely off guard by the surprise attack. Unfortunately, a few of them recovered in time to open fire on them. Harry felt a painful burning sensation in his shoulder before he gathered enough of his wits to put a shield charm up. He switched his wand to his left hand, and grabbed Daphne's hand with his other, pulling her away from the fire fight.

"C'mon!" he shouted, shaking her from the sudden shock she had entered. Together they ran to the nearest lift, ducking under bullets and weaving away from spells that the alerted aurors were now sending their way. They made it into a lift in one piece, and Harry slammed the door closed and pressed the button for level nine, his heart pounding as bullets bounced off the lift doors. Harry finally breathed a sigh of relief when the carriage started descending. They were safe... for now.

"You're hurt," Daphne exclaimed.

Harry looked at his shoulder, with the adrenaline now gone, it felt quite painful.

He gave her a strained smile. "I've had worse," he said, trying to play it off as nothing.

"I'm sure you have.." Daphne whispered, getting in close. "Ferula!"

Bandages sprung up around his shoulder tightly, and Harry hissed in pain. When he opened his eyes, his breath caught when he realized how close she was now. "Daphne, I.." he began, only to cut himself off when she pressed him up against the walls.

"My hero," she said, before her lips smashed into his. His head swam from the luscious feel of her body pressed up against his, making him groan with pleasure.

It ended much too soon however, when the lift dinged open, revealing a long and dark hallway. "Department of Mysteries," said the cool female voice. Harry threw a nervous smile at Daphne before walking out of the elevator, a murmured "Lumos!" lighting the way.

Their footsteps echoed loudly off the dark stone tiles, and their breath was visible in the cold damp air. Daphne was only a step behind him.

"Harry.." she whispered quietly, every small noise seemingly amplified. "Why have we come down here? Only unspeakables can enter the Department on mysteries. Unless.." she trailed off, but her implication was clear.

Harry glanced warily at her, debating how much to tell her. Ah hell, not like it mattered anyway. "I'm not an unspeakable, if that's what you're thinking.. But I do have, shall we say, prior experience with the Department of Mysteries.. " Harry chuckled at her wide eyed look.

He wasn't just talking about that time in fifth year either. After the war, the department had been very interested in recruiting Harry for a multitude of reasons. His unparalleled magical power, his popularity, and his leadership experience made him an ideal candidate.

The department recognized the danger of what Hermione was doing, and it was his job to try to undermine her capitulation. It had worked, for a while.

With highly trained operatives at his command, Harry had tried to lead an insurgency against the encroaching muggle menace. With a sympathetic Minister of Magic ready to bend the knee, it was clear that it was only a matter of time until their hidden world would come crashing down. But Harry refused to go down without a fight.

He used every tool at his disposal. Blackmail, kidnappings, and even assassinations, nothing was out of bounds when they were fighting for their world. They succeeded at first. Their campaign brought the muggles to their knees, and ground the country to a halt. It looked like they were going to back off. Then, the researchers turned on them.

He still didn't know how Hermione convinced them. Maybe they sympathized with her. Maybe they wanted a piece of the action that the operatives got all the time. Or maybe they simply felt underappreciated. It didn't matter at this point, he'd never know now. But when the researchers turned against them, their underground campaign was halted.

Every target of value, every person of interest, they warded and protected so thoroughly that even Croaker himself couldn't get past them. Eventually, out of desperation, they had resorted to bombing campaigns. They were determined to take as many as their enemies down with them as could, but by that time it was too late. The tides of war had turned.

With the department compromised, they had to meet in secret. But now the secrecy worked against them. Nobody knew who was loyal, and who was a ministry spy. Their final act had been to take down the muggle leadership when they were all gathered together at Buckingham Palace.

They finally made it to the end of the hallway. Harry glanced at Daphne and motioned her to turn around. Once she complied, Harry put his hand on the blank space of wall that seemingly formed a deadend in the hallway. They had updated the security since a bunch of fifth year students broke in. A moment later the wall glowed blue, and a black door that hadn't been there before appeared. It creaked open ominously.

Harry grabbed Daphne's hand and pulled her inside, and not a moment too soon as Harry heard the lift at the other end of the hall ding open. He slammed the door shut behind him and put his wand to the handle. "Initiate lockdown procedures, set charges for detonation," Harry ordered.

Immediately the door disappeared, and dozens of boxes filled with explosives appeared in its place.

Harry lit the fuse, and pulled Daphne along further in the department. He could feel her gaping at him, so he answered her question before she could ask it. "Croaker gave me control of the security grid if there was no one trustworthy left. I didn't know if that would work… this doesn't bode well," Harry said.

They raced down the corridor and exited into a large, circular room. It was a very familiar room to Harry, and he immediately went for one of the doors to their left. He held the door open for Daphne. "Ladies fir.." A muffled explosion in the distance cut him off. He glanced back to Daphne who was looking at him worriedly.

"That should hold them off for a while. There was enough C-4 there to collapse the whole hallway," he said reassuringly. But he could tell that she was beginning to understand how dire their situation was. As they walked into the room, he hoped this would be the last time he would need to buy time so desperately like this.

He had to shield his eyes as the door closed behind him. Diamond-sparkling light was pouring off of every surface. Clocks of every shape and size filled the room from floor to ceiling. And nonstop, relentless ticking filled the room to an almost deafening pitch. But none of that interested Harry. He rushed over to one of the desks covered in clocks and pulled open a drawer. "Jackpot," he said.

They hadn't destroyed them all. Sitting before Harry's eyes was an entire drawer full of time-turners. But just as he reached a hand in to grab some, Daphne cleared her throat.

"Ahem Potter, perhaps you could tell me what exactly is going on here. I think I deserve an explanation after everything we just went through after all," she said, giving him an expectant stare.

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Uh… you see Daphne… I was... kind of… sort of… thinking about going back in time?" Harry half answered, half asked. Mount Daphne promptly erupted.

"What do you mean you're sort of thinking about going back in time?" she yelled, in what was probably the first those words had ever been shouted.

Harry winced. "Well, I thought if I got some sort of runic array, combined together with enough time tuners, I could override their inbuilt limiters. I was kind of, sort of, hoping you could help me with that, since I'm rubbish at runes," he admitted.

Daphne gaped at him for a few seconds, her jaw opening and closing in a good impression of a goldfish. "I don't know if I should be impressed with your gall, Potter, or horrified by your blatant idiocy," she eventually said. She looked at him seriously. "You know the ministry line about what happens to wizards who mess with time, right?" she checked.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, horrible things, paradoxes, murdering yourself. Bah humbug. All bloody lies, I say," Harry said, before switching tactics when he saw she remained unconvinced. He tried for a charming smile. "So you'll help me?" he asked, pulling her into a tight hug. "I can't do this without you," he whispered in her ear, delighted by the shivers he felt travel up her spine.

"Alright, alright, get off me," she said, pushing away. "Not like I have anything better to do," she said. She only had time to squeak out a brief "Eeek!" when Harry tackled her to the ground for a quick snogging session.

Twenty minutes later, the thoroughly ruffled couple were slaving away at a huge runic array covering the whole room, the whole drawer full of timeturners set down in the middle of it all. Strange symbols in languages Harry had never seen before crisscrossed in ever increasingly complex patterns, overlapping each other to form an upside down triangle that spanned the width of the room. Harry was glad he had picked a runes master to rescue.

Just then the door to their room buckled under an assault, and Harry glanced back nervously at Daphne. "How much longer till that array is ready, do you think Daph?" he called out, standing nervously in front of the creaking door.

"About five minutes!" she called back.

"We don't have five minutes! The blasted muggles are about to bust the door down right now!" he yelled over the increasingly loud cacophony.

"You'll just have to hold them off, this is a delicate process, it can't be rushed! Maybe if you hadn't been so frisky..." she trailed off.

"Hey!" Harry objected, getting his wand out casting his strongest reparo on the door, buying them a few precious seconds. "You weren't exactly averse to our little session. If I recall correctly, you said something along the lines of… what was it? Oh, right, 'Harry Potter if you don't stop teasing me right now, and take out your…" Daphne cut him off.

"That's enough out of you!" she shrieked, though her cheeks were blushing a shade of red that really complimented her… personality.

Just as Harry burst into laughter, the door finally collapsed, and Harry was forced to throw up a shield charm to protect them from the incoming hail of bullets. "Daphne!" he called out.

"Almost there!" she answered.

A grenade landed next to his leg, and Harry only just noticed in time to send it hurling back to their besiegers before he was blown to kingdom come. "DAPHNE!" he yelled more urgently.

"Got it!" she finally said. The entire room suddenly glowed a luminescent green, and a tear in what seemed to be the fabric of space opened up, and started sucking everything in, including the bullets that Harry had forgot to shield against in his awe.

"Right," Daphne yelled, over the now deafening roar of the portal. "If my calculations are correct, we have to jump in in twenty seconds," she yelled.

"And if your calculations aren't correct?" Harry yelled back in question, though he knew it was a useless question at this point.

Daphne grabbed his hand and together they started walking toward the unknown. "Well, I guess that'll be it then," she answered, and for some reason, all Harry could think about was how there were worse ways to go out.

Just before they reached the point of no return, Harry turned to Daphne once more. "Daph?" he yelled out, not sure he was heard. She looked back to him, and mouthed something, but he could barely make it out. He assumed she said yeah.

He looked into her sparkling blue eyes, her pretty face drawing him into those entrancing sapphires, and he thought, 'Ah, what the hell,' before he mouthed something that there could be no mistaking for, smiling widely when mouthed the same thing back. The last thing they knew was the feel of each other's lips as they were whirled away, never seeing the building collapsing around them.

A/N: Hello! Wow, this came out way more goofy and cheesy romantic than I had initially planned. I'm not sure if I will bother continuing this, but if enough people want it, I will consider it. The whole theme is supposed to be anti-muggle, sort of a political idealist kind of thing, if you catch my drift. Basically, Grindelwald was right. Let me know if that interests people.