Harry James Potter was twenty eight when the world ended.
No one knew how it had begun. Maybe it had been a terrorist attack gone wrong. Maybe it had been a lab experiment gone off the leash.
Maybe it was just God and Nature deciding Humanity had ruled too long.
One thing was certain thought, the world ended. Humanity ended, and the Dead rose to claim it for themselves.
Magic is a wonderful power. It can make the impossible, possible. It can hide an entire world, a culture and all it inhabitants, just under the noses of the entire world.
Magic made them strong, it made them unique, and it made them uniquely vulnerable to a muggle born plague.
Harry had started his early twenties training to be an auror. It had been his dream, his calling when he had been a teenager.
After the War, everyone looked to him to be the Warrior, a leader to bring peace and make sure the evil of the world stayed in the shadows.
Harry had applied, and trained, and after he'd finished his training, Harry declined a position on in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
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