Beijing, China
24 A.B.H. (After Battle of Hogwarts)

Axai Khan stood on the balcony, watching the seething crowd below him with a large swelling in his chest - a feeling of triumph. It had been a few months ago that the National People's Congress had proclaimed him Chairman of the Communist Party of China. It was…intriguing, Khan thought, to hold so much power. And also a bit ironic. His ancestor, Genghis Khan, had once ruled an empire that stretched across the world. Now Khan had finally begun his own path to power. Starting here, in the land his other ancestor, Kublai Khan, had ruled so famously. Axai smiled inwardly, though his face could have been carved from stone. It had been a long time getting here. But it was going to be worth it.

He raised a hand. The crowd quieted at once. Khan had based his rise to power, his influence in the Congress, on his reputation as a tough and brutal man. "Just the kind of man China needs," his supporters had said. China was crumbling, falling apart before he came along, from the influence of the Western democracies' Internet, the corruption of the government, the gigantic population problem, the scourge of pollution…so many problems. So many reasons to have a strong leader, someone who could take charge - someone like him.

And with such a massive nation to finally meet his needs, Axai Khan could finally realize his forefathers' dreams of conquest.

But there were many things that made Axai Khan more than just a normal dictator. He smiled inwardly again as his left hand touched on one: the wand in his back pocket.

Khan spoke. "People and workers of China, today is a new day. For I have come to bring you victory over those who would hand you hardship and misery. Your previous leaders have failed you, they have besmirched this noble land, and they have done little but cater to the pathetic Westerners.

"Mao Zedong once founded a great nation without petty regard for such abominations as 'private ownership' and 'human freedoms', which are code words for destruction and oppression." At this point he used a gift he had, the embellishment of anger and furor to get the crowd so riled up that they hardly noticed what he was saying. He sneered, knowing the malicious look would be on millions of television screens across China, and slammed the railing of the balcony with his fist. "I will NOT see my people bent to the will of petty bureaucrats and Western capitalists! By the blood in my veins, I will see the world avenged for what it has done to each and every one of you! The great robber-barons of the weak Asian puppet states propped up by imperialist powers have denied China her true fruits of victory! And you will not stand for it! And I will not stand for it! Together, we will lead China to great victories, and destroy the enslavers and thieves, and claim our rightful ownership over the world!"

The crowd was incited. Khan could feel it. Had he used the Imperius Curse on the entire crowd, he could not have done better. He could see raw emotion on their faces, love of their new righteous leader who would stand up for them, hate for the Westerners, anger, malice, vengefulness…

Khan smiled on his face now. It was almost a twisted parody of a smile more than anything else. "Good evening to you all, and remember - we shall prevail."

To roaring cheers, he left the balcony.

* * * * *

One hour later, Khan was reliving this moment in his office, drinking some liquid - he didn't know what it was and wasn't particularly concerned right now - when another man entered through the door. While Khan was clean-shaven, as he knew the people of China respected, this man was not. He looked barbaric. His scraggly beard came down over his chest, long wisps of hair stuck out from underneath a hat he wore, and two small mustaches ran down his cheek. There was also a fierce glint in his eyes that normally struck fear into most people. But Khan was not most people.

"My Lord Warmaster."

Khan chuckled deeply. "Call me President now, Marshal Choibalsan."

"But you are the Warmaster of the Golden Horde." Yumjaagiin Choibalsan cocked his head. "Surely that must supersede all Muggle titles."

"But what wizard has ever held this much power?" Khan laughed in delight. "Even that English upstart, Vel-something…oh, I can't quite remember, it was so long ago…could not order the death of thousands of people with a few keys typed into a computer. But I can. I have the power to create, change, destroy, all at whim. Because the people of China love me and trust me."

"Yes, but where would you be without us?" Choibalsan looked at a gigantic portrait framed over one of the plush armchairs in the office. "Your ancestor Genghis would be proud of you. But as you well remember, he was a very powerful wizard. You cannot abandon your magical side."

"Make no mistake, Marshal. The cult of the Golden Horde means much to me. I intend to use you."

Yumjaagiin Choibalsan was no fool. He had been alive longer than Axai had, and Axai had survived for over three hundred years. Choibalsan had served under various aliases many times before, as officers in the Czarist Russian Army, the Soviet Army, the Chinese People's Liberation Army, the British Navy - the list was endless. He knew all the tricks, all the technology that Muggles used to make their weapons of war. He had told Axai of all this when he was training Axai to be the man who would bring the Golden Horde to victory once again. But Axai, rather than becoming amused at the silly ways Muggles got on, had been fascinated. Such power! What wizard could destroy a city with a single weapon?

But Choibalsan still counseled Axai to rely on magic, his lineage in the arcane arts, as his inner strength. And Axai did. But the Muggles held power too…and Axai wanted both. He would have both. As the (relatively) young leader of the ancient and powerful cult of Mongolian wizards known as the Golden Horde, and now the President of the People's Republic of China and wielder of its vast Muggle army, Axai Khan now held more raw power in his hands than anybody who had ever lived.

"How many wizards does China hold? Millions, hiding in secret among the populace. And our Golden Horde? Hundreds of battle-trained wizards, prepared to fight for ascendancy. The Golden Horde will rise again, old friend. But we will need help. I intend to start a war."

Choibalsan's look was flat. "A war. Really. Young one, is this a wise choice?"

"Think, Marshal. The Muggles are strong. We are strong. What if we joined? Imagine the possibilities! I have been working in secret on several programs that will secure us complete victory over all enemies - and I know just the man to implement them. You. I am asking you to take over the role of Chairman of the State Central Military Commission."

Marshal Choibalsan looked at Axai for a while. "You wish me to take over a Muggle government office? But what will they think? This could destroy the secrecy that wizards have maintained for centuries…"

Axai laughed. "That is the point, old friend. How am I going to whip Muggles and wizards into a cooperative, efficient fighting force if I do not reveal our presence? We already so heavy in power that nobody can remove us. And I believe my people my take it in stride."

"You intend to reveal to the entire world our secrets?" Choibalsan looked shocked. "Have you gone mad, man?"

"Of course not. Many people already know it. I told the National People's Congress in a closed session the other day. And the heads of the People's Liberation Army have known for a long time. Believe me, the secret is already out. And our people have had time to become accustomed to it. But the other nations…they will regard wizards with suspicion and hatred, because of our use of wizards in war. They will turn on them, and persecute them. There will be nowhere for the wizards and witches of the enemy countries to run, and they will be hunted down and killed, and thus our opponents will not have any idea of what magic can do…until it hits them." Axai Khan waved a hand. "We will win this war in years. Several years, yes, but by then the People's Republic, steered by the invisible hand of the Golden Horde, will hold the world at its feet, and the only wizards left will be ours. It is an unbeatable plan."

The old Marshal looked at his protégé with a distinct gleam in his eyes. "You are right. As astounding as it is…you have come up with a brilliant plan." Suddenly he croaked a laugh. "By the eternal blue Sky of Tengri, you will rule!"

Axai stood and looked out the window. "The world will fall to its knees. And we will be there to put the chain around its neck, as our ancestors would have wanted." He raised his hands. "By the power of our ancestors, the Golden Horde will reign supreme!" He pulled out his wand, lifted it to his forehead, and said by rote, "I swear by Blood Oath on pain of death that I will force the lands to bow to the name of the Golden Horde, or I will die in the attempt." As he finished these words, there was a loud clap, and a thin cut spread in his forehead. A drop of blood oozed out, landed on the end of the wand, and then a bright light emitted from the tip of the wand. The light was accompanied by a throaty, cruel laughter.

At that moment, on the other side of the world, a man named Harry Potter woke with a start, rubbing his scar as if it were on fire.

Harry tumbled out of bed, clutching his forehead and wondering whether he was going mad. Was this a dream?

No, the pain was too strong and too real. Ok…a hangover?

No, he never had anything larger than a butterbeer except on New Year’s and when Ginny was feeling particularly party-like. And last night hadn’t been one of those nights.

He looked at the sleeping redhead on the other side of the bed and shook his head. They had stopped aging a while ago, and still looked as if they were in their early thirties, but Ginny had wild nights less and less nowadays. Between trying to write a book on dueling and working on Order business, Ginny hardly had time for anything.


Harry pressed the scar on his forehead and pondered the problem, even as he fumbled around their room for a potion, a Benadryl, anything. Was Voldemort still alive? He’d seen the body. He’d killed him, and made sure he had destroyed all the Horcruxes �“ what, twenty-five years ago? So what would make the scar hurt now?


Then, as quickly as it had come, the pain was gone. It was almost as if it had never been there. Harry took his hand down and stood for a while, thinking. He looked over at Ginny.


It was probably nothing. Between the curtains, he could still see the darkness of the summer night. It might be just another ache or pain �“ at his age, he seemed to feel those all the time. It was just a headache. Nothing worth worrying himself about. Certainly nothing worth waking Ginny up over.


Shaking his head, Harry climbed back between the sheets next to his wife. Within minutes, he was sound asleep. When he woke up that morning to find Ginny already gone to the Ministry, his three older children �“ including James, who now worked at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes �“ eating breakfast, and four-year-old twins Remus and Rachel running in mad circles around the kitchen, he sighed and never remembered that he had woken up in the middle of the night.


* * * * *


Three Months Later


Hermione ran fingers through her hair. “OK, let’s try it again,” she said firmly, gripping her wand in her right hand.


Her partner, a younger man named Charlie, waved a hand. “Come on, Professor Weasley. It just doesn’t work.” They were in a small training room in the basement of Hermione’s house.


“You just aren’t doing the motion right,” she insisted, gesturing with her wand. It showered out a few sparks in her annoyance. “It’s like a slingshot. As soon as my spell closes with you, you swerve your wand to meet it, pull back against the force of the blast, and send it back at me. Think of a slingshot bending back, go on.”


“You see, this is the danger of making up spells. I understand, Professor, that you are the expert in Theoretical Magic, but this just won’t happen. I’ve never heard of reflecting spell power, just stopping it with a Shield Charm.”


“I have been trying to find a true return to Avada Kedavra for years, one where it is clearly self-defense. This is it. One more time.”


Charles sighed and lifted his wand. “If you insist…Expelliarmus!”


A red jet of light shot from his wand and streaked toward Hermione. Hermione pointed her wand to where the path of the spell seemed to be going and shouted, “Devolvo!” The spell impacted her wand tip, and Hermione drew her wand back almost to her armpit. A red ball of some sort of plasma �“ they were still trying to figure out what type �“ was forming in midair at the tip. Hermione thrust her wand forward, and red light seemed to draw out of her arm, propelling the ball of spell energy forward at twice the speed it had come at her. It struck Charles right in the head, throwing him onto the pads behind him and sending his wand careening across the room.


“Omigod! Are you okay?”


Charles rose, looking frazzled but excited. “It worked! I don’t believe it! Professor…that felt like a damn Mack truck!”


Hermione grinned, even as she rushed forward to see if Charles was hurt. “It did, didn’t it? Oh, dear, Charlie, you’re bleeding on the elbow there.”


There was a swift knock on the door, and Hermione’s husband entered without waiting for a response. He looked at Charles knocked on the floor and the pair’s gleeful expressions. “I take it the spell worked?”


“Yes, Ron! We have a breakthrough into Plasma Energy Magic! My God, the possibilities! We could combine spell power into a single powerful spell…I’ll bet we could even split spells for area effect!”


Charles rose up, brushing dust off his jumper. “Since that discovery Professor Weasley made nineteen years ago, that all magic is basically plasmatic substance, we’ve been wondering what we could do with it. Now we know!”


“That’s enough for today, anyway, Charlie,” said Hermione. “Go get those injuries fixed, and the Council on Theoretical Magic will be having its weekly meeting tomorrow. Will you be there?”


“You know I don’t miss a meeting, Professor. See you later!” Charlie rushed out the door, likely to tell Jenny at home what had happened.


“For a Professor who only actually taught for a few years, you’ve certainly made a mark on the young people,” said Ron as he walked over and put an arm around her.


“I’ve got to go up to my study, Ron.” She was practically dancing with excitement. “I’ve got to do some math, write up some stuff about this, figure out…”


“You have to do nothing, darling.”


“But the Wizarding world has to know…”


“The Wizarding world can wait. Or did you forget that we’re eating dinner as a family tonight?”


Hermione stopped. She hated not spending time with her family, but this work was so important…but then again, she had been the one who insisted on them eating dinner together every night.


“Very well then,” she said primly.


“I’m sure the kids will be delighted to hear about your breakthrough. Come on, let’s go eat.”


* * * * *


Harry sipped his butterbeer thoughtfully as he surveyed the patrons of The Hog’s Head. Aside from a few old witches and wizards carefully husbanding flasks of firewhisky, the place was dreadfully empty. It made Harry wonder why he even bothered anymore.


Even though there hasn’t been a true Dark wizard in ten years, the Order has to stay informed. You know that.


Even though he and Ginny saw too little of each other these days…it pained Harry to see how much time they kept apart. After twenty-four years of marriage, they both had things to do now. Ginny kept out in the limelight, an accomplished Auror, bestselling author of books on defensive magic, renowned sorceress the world over…but few remembered her faded husband, the Boy Who Lived, who had held such great promise. The Order of the Phoenix still attracted its fair share of recruits seeking to serve beside the great Harry Potter, but after a while they usually moved on to bigger and better things. Everybody had moved on, it seemed. Everybody except Harry.


Why do I sit here, acting like I’m still undercover? Am I seeking a new version of my glory days, when the whole world knew who I was because of who wanted to kill me? Perhaps I should truly move on.


No. Not while there was the tiniest hint of Dark Magic in the world.


Was this why Ginny and he were so far apart? This obsession?


Was Harry Potter useless without a Voldemort to fight?


A figure came striding through the door, and Harry shook off these thoughts. Short, stooped, the figure wavered for a second, then seated himself next to Harry and pulled a flask out from his robes.


“Evening, Mundungus,” Harry said quietly. He had kept Mundungus Fletcher out of jail, and the man would never stop owing him for that, that and the other things he had done.


“Evening, Harry. Haven’t got much to report today. There was a Dark uprising in the States…”


“There was?” Harry asked, beginning to get excited. This could be it, the thing that brought him back…


“American Aurors �“ they call themselves Rangers for some reason �“ nipped it in the bud. There’re rumors of something going on in Mexico, but rumor’s all I can find. And there’s something else might interest you.”


“What?”


“Something weird’s going on in China. You know how a month ago, their Minister booted every foreign wizard out.”


“Yes.”


“Well, all communications have ceased inter and outer the country. ‘N if that wasn’t odd enough, same things ‘re happening on the Muggle side. Foreigners being booted out, borders closed. They’re hidin’ something.”


“They’ve probably had an outbreak of gnomes or something. It’s nothing.”


“It’s odd, though, innit? I mean, there’s all sorts of kooky rumors bout their new Muggle leader, and…”


“IT’S NOTHING, MUNDUNGUS!”


Fletcher recoiled, aghast look on his face. Harry rose, all the resentment he had been feeling tonight billowing out.


“NOTHING! I’m nobody anymore, do you hear me! There’s nothing left for me to do anymore, no challenges for The Boy Who Lived! Nobody even wants to hear that I’m alive anymore! ‘You’ve done your part, Potter, now go away and leave us alone!’”


Harry stood for a while, breathing hard, and noticed the stunned look on Mundungus’s face. “I’m sorry, Dung. I guess that American general was right. Old soldiers never die, they only fade away.


“And it looks like I have.”


Harry left the bar.

James Potter was a playboy. His father hated it, but there you had it. If your parents hated the way you were, you had to be onto something.

Like right now. Here he was, in his parents’ house, with some pretty little thing just graduated from Hogwarts. They were making out, and he was carefully working his hand around to her voluptuous bottom.

“James…”

“Mmm.” He was kissing on her neck now.

“Do you think we need to talk about…you know, our relationship?”

“What better way is there to talk about it?”

She giggled. “Good point.” She took off her blouse.

Then the door banged open. The girl squealed and nudged closer to James. James shrank back. There was the old man himself, back from a night at the Cauldron. He didn’t smell like butterbeer, oddly enough.

“Cover up, you two. I’m getting my broomstick out of the cupboard.” Agape, James watched his father walk over to the cupboard, pull out the new model Shooting Star he used instead of the now-antiquated Firebolt, and walk back out the door �“ without ever looking at either of them.

That wasn’t his father’s way of anger. His dad would usually explode when he found James with a girl like he was, but tonight he hadn’t said a thing. Something was on his mind.

James looked at the girl. “Shall we continue?”

She pulled her blouse back on in a flash. “I’ve…got to go.” And she went.

Damn. He knew he’d never see her again. What had just happened, with such bad timing, was enough to freak anybody out.

* * * * *

Harry Potter flew alone over the lands of Britain, his thoughts far away. Maybe he should go see Ginny, tell her why he was acting the way he was and try to repair what they had lost. Maybe he should go talk to Ron �“ but no, they’d probably get drunk together and the problems wouldn’t go away. Maybe he should talk to Hermione instead and listen to her cool logic �“ but it was too logical, and the last thing Harry needed right now was a logical course of action. He was on his own.

He descended in the heart of London, and just walked around in the streets, kicking stones out of his way and just thinking. Ginny was in the Ministry, working late tonight. He could go see her right now…maybe that was the best thing to do, after all.

Speeding up his steps, Harry rounded a corner �“ and saw a crowd of people in front of an electronics store.

How odd. It’s the middle of the night. There were cars parked by the curbs of the street and people pouring out of them, hurrying over to the shop.

Early morning sale? But Harry knew that wasn’t it. Somehow, he just knew. He hurried up enough to shove his way through the crowd and see what they were looking at: several large-screen televisions, each showing the same picture �“ a cold face in a black suit glaring out from in front of a red flag with a yellow star on it. The caption beneath him read, “Chairman Axai Khan of the People’s Republic of China.”

“ �“ the western imperialists. They have held our people in hostage long enough, controlling our centers of commerce as they controlled our cities at the turn of the 20th century. Western-owned companies hold too much of our industry. Today, we reclaim it!”

Harry took in a sharp breath. He didn’t know how, but he knew all of a sudden �“ this was the man he had seen in that dream, months ago. That dream he could barely remember, even now. What was going on?

“By my executive order, all foreign industries and investments in China are being seized indefinitely, and the perpetrators of slavery with them. We will finally control our own destiny, and free our nation from the chains it has been bound in. These are our words; take heed.”

A female newscaster popped up as soon as the film clip ended. Harry noticed the caption at the bottom. The BBC? Not some crackpot show, then. This means trouble in the Muggle world, you can be sure of that.

“That was President Axai Khan last evening. At eight o’ clock this morning, several factories owned by Hasbro and Chevrolet were seized by Chinese troops, along with all the workers. This appears to be only the beginning of the mass takeover of foreign industry by China.”

Harry had heard enough. He walked away quickly, all thought of Ginny gone from his mind, to the place he had hidden his broomstick. It seemed like just a Muggle political thing, troubling to be sure, but he wouldn’t worry about it �“ except for the fact that his scar was tinging again. It hadn’t felt like this since Voldemort, and this was no early-morning haze.

Something was very wrong.
* * * * *

William Finnigan sat in his office on an oil rig in the South China Sea, eating his sandwich. Here, it was afternoon, and it seemed as if nothing was going to happen today. Despite that kook Chinese President or whatever making those statements, he didn’t seem to care about a small British-owned oil rig out in what was almost international waters.

One of his coworkers walked in. “Oy, Bill.”

“What’s happening, Stanley?”

“The government’s telling us to evacuate. The boss says we’re leaving tonight, under cover of darkness.”

“We’d better start…” Then William became aware of a low drone coming in from the north. “What’s that sound?”

Stanley walked out of the tiny room and looked out the window. “Holy Jesus, Bill, come take a look at this!”

William jumped up and peeked out the doorway. Sure enough, there were several large airplanes flying directly toward the oil rig.

“We aren’t supposed to be evacuated until tonight,” protested Stanley.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this, man.”

The planes finally drew over the oil rig �“ and from each one blossomed twenty parachutes.

“Oh bloody hell.”

Men were yelling and running all across the rig, and alarms were blaring. Some men grabbed shotguns from a small locker and ran out with them, but as soon as the paratroops landed, machine guns began crackling, and anybody oil worker that held a firearm died on the spot.

But there were not only bullets to be worried about. Besides the fifty or so Chinese Commandos in camouflage, there were a few others �“ men and women �“ in flowing robes, brandishing small sticks that apparently shot lasers.

Or that was how it would have seemed to anyone that was not the brother of a wizard.

William ran back into his office and pulled out a cell phone. No service. He reached for a wall phone. No dial tone.

Only one other way to get a message out.

Frantically unlocking his personal file drawer, William yanked out a small looking glass. Rubbing it frantically, he called his brother’s name, “Seamus!”

Seamus Finnigan’s face appeared in the mirror. “Hello, Will. What’s…”

“We’re being attacked on the oil rig! Some of them are Chinese troops, and some are your kind! We need help!”

“My kind! Do you mean…”

But a Stunning Spell soon smashed into William’s back, and he knew no more.