Love this idea - the whole story sounds like it could be awesome.

There is one thing however which really grabbed my imagination - someone's already mentioned a Q like character being played by Aberforth or Flitwick but for some comedic relief I, for some reason, am envisioning Arthur Weasley in the role.

Think about it -

Arthur secretly has a lab underneath the garage in which he's been tinkering with loads of muggle/magic hybrids, he merely affects being a complete idiot with these things as he works exclusively for Dumbledore. The Ford Anglia could have been an early attempt at a stealth method of transport (it turns invisible don't forget) You could perhaps also tie in the idea that he apprenticed Fred and George and that WWW is really just the front for a Dumbledore sponsored spy lab.

Also in terms of information gatherers you could bring in Xenophilus Lovegood and have Luna as an apprentice to him. Think about it, he moves between countries easily due to his journalistic role and as such gets exposure to alot of foreign governments and magical societies.

Again just two ideas for how to bring cannon characters in.

Love the idea

 

rather attracted to the idea of a competent Arthur Weasley as the Q character. It's a rather cliche fanon thing to have him secretly be a member of the aurors/dom/unspeakables, but not many people have him be dumbles personal techie.

 

That usually falls to the twins, and with good reasons: It's logical, and, to a degree, it's canon (for the Ministry).

 

Well, the idea of a competent Arthur Weasley is at least, IMO, somewhat canon. Reading between the lines, I always felt like he was definitely doing some interesting things with enchantment in his tool shed, especially as I got older, and his interest in Muggle objects could easily be interpreted as the natural curiosity of any creative mind, never mind a wizard's. The Ford Anglia, until two prepubescent wizards crashed it into what may have been the most violent tree in Britain, was perhaps only an order or two below the level of awesomeness of some of Dumbledore's inventions and devices. And that it survived the crash, and (still?) survives in the Forbidden Forest of all places, is perhaps the most amazing part of all.

 

(Skimmed through 4+ pages of comments, so I apologize if some of this has already been discussed).
I have to wonder why Dumbledore didn't go back to the Order to make this happen, or at least, involve the Order. Of course, the more I think about it, a slow developing "There was a spy in the Order again" reveal that ratchets up the questions and issues surrounding Fleur would work (or the twist, that Fleur wasn't the spy in the Order).

That also helps put a background to the story in why he goes outside of the Order for some people, and stays within it for others - giving Dumbledore the fatal flaw of trusting a spy.
___

For characters, though most of them have been chosen, I'd push for a hard-charging smartass Seamus. He could almost fill the anti-hero but still good role. There's enough tension in canon between him and Harry to build things up between them, and yet his character is still unwritten enough that you have almost a blank slate with him.

Just please - don't go with the Dumbledore saying it's 'For the greater good' crap (someone else mentioned it). I swear it shows up in almost every other fic I read that has Dumbledore in it.

 

Well, it's been a while and I've been an avid fan of Harry/Fleur. Considering the lack of activity on the thread, I'm going throw a couple ideas into the thread for review to see if their valid for further pursuit. If I necroed the thread and that's a big no-no, then I apologize. If this is my first post on DLP and I forgot to introduce myself here on DLP, then my apologies.

Brief Summary: A chance encounter with something beyond his comprehension changes Harry. And maybe not for the better. After all, you're only supposed to have one soul

So basically, this story would start on the Black Lake when Sirius is getting his soul kissed by the Dementors. Harry is unable to form his Super Patronus and there is nothing he can do to stop his Godfather's death.

So in a fit of Gryffindor Bravery, he physically tries to intervene. When he does, he makes physical contact with Siruis's soul.

This leads to some complications. As Sirius' soul is being Kissed, it is in a state of flux, in a state between existence and destruction. Harry's interference breaks that fragile equilibrium and gets hit with the full backlash of a disrupted soul, which scares the Dementors off

This leads to the very essence of Sirius; his power, memories, personalities, outlook, experiences, everything flowing and combining with Harry's soul. However, since Sirius' soul was in the process of being kissed, Harry is still the dominant personality. [BTW, Sirius doesn't survive from his soul shattering]

But his character changes over the course of the summer. No longer is he the wimpy canon kid he is who refuses to stand up and actually study. He'll be more confident, darker, more in line of what we would want Harry to be.

As he enters into his fourth year, he'll have to deal with the school body who isn't accustomed to a now jaded Harry, now holding a part of Sirius within him. Que deteriorating relationships with Ron, Hermione, and the rest of the school body simply because they can no longer relate to him.

Dumbledore would try and help Harry through this personality change, but I have the idea of Sirius' seemingly abandonment in Azkaban along with coincidences in Harry's life has the BWL push him away and believe him to be a manipulative old coot.

Then the foreign students arrive and Harry meets with Fleur. Fleur would be middle class; her mother being one of the teachers brought along for the trip to Hogwarts while her father would be ... say, the Head of the French Department of International Cooperation who would come along on the trip to make sure no incidents happen between Britain and France.

I'm unsure how to really work the relationship, but I suppose that Harry, considering his new personality gained from Sirius' soul, would not be a 'leetle boy' and thus would interest Fleur, who is accustomed to simply dominating any boy who walks in front of her.

While their relationship develops, the Tournament becomes a much bigger deal for Voldemort as now not only can he resurrect himself, he cause a diplomatic incident between Britain and France and potentially start a war. This causes the Tournament and the year itself to be much more chaotic as Voldemort prepares to rise.

And that is what I've got down so far. Thoughts? Criticisms? Suggestions? I'm open for it.

I'm also tempted to write a story like "Dark Emperor the Immortal" but where both a Dark Harry and a Dark Fleur travel back in time to regain their fallen Empire.

As a third idea, I thought why not have Harry's parent's never die? Like go through the canon books, with Voldemort trying to rise and everything, but have Harry had the love and support he needed to properly develop to his full potential. He would then be on a more equal basis with Fleur which would allow the relationship to develop. Also, the chance to start playing with the characters of Harry's parents and potential siblings is enticing to think about.

Thoughts?

Thanks!

BTW, someone posted on FFN "The 100,000 Sons of Maréchal Potter" on 5/1/13 by some one named loveyouRon. [Shudders at the name] Either way, it's definitely not Methene. I'm thinking plagerism is going on here. Here's the link. [Link]

 

Welcome! I hope you enjoy your stay here!

I know what you mean, but I still really dislike it. 'Super' doesn't really cut it, in my opinion, and I think you should really think about ways of describing why that event which could have been was special or whatever, rather than calling it a "super" patronus and running with it.

Of course, that would mean a bit of backstory about the various differences and the changes which lead up to this moment of AU. I don't dislike it - Harry failing to form his patronus in one of the defining moments of the series could potentially be a grew jumping point for a bunch of awesome things.

But I'd like to know the whys of the situation - how is your Harry different from canon.

Just a personal pet peeve. Harry is in Gryffindor because he's brave, he's not brave because he's in Gryffindor. I dislike [hogwart's house] as a modifier for any sort of traits. Goodness knows the less said about 'slytherinz cunning' or 'huffleufflesnufflepufflagus loyalty' the better. :\

Sounds good. Explain flux. I'm not going to be pedantic, but every little explanation of the magic and the way your universe ticks makes the story a little better in my opinion. This is, of course, not to say that worldbuilding can take the place of plot.

My first reaction to this is: oh dear, a convict of 13 years who's spent half his life getting his emotions sucked out is about to merge with the already-shaky adolescent psyche of someone who has far too much owed to the world...

But then... I was disappointed.

Stop. Here you make an error which far, far, far too many authors make. Jaded is NOT the same as dark. I'd argue that Dumbledore is a hell of a jaded character, yet unless you go by terrible fanon characterizations, he's _the_ light mage - Harry Potter's version of Gandalf and every other bearded sage-like trope which has ever existed for the side of the good, the light, etc etc.

Aside from this, I'd argue that such an experience would probably shatter his confidence rather than improving it. Look at it like this - you've just lost your godfather who you've very recently found out did NOT murder your parents, only to have all the memories of his stay in the worst place imaginable AND, if a human being's memory is fairly represented, has forgotten the majority of useful shit that you learn in school.

The only positive (if we're going for having a more perfect [paraphasing a certain document a little sarcastically here] Harry) probably resides in the little bits of dark knowledge from Bellatrix's mad ravings, the most disgusting and brutal anecdotal pieces of dark magic from his childhood which he can't perform, and his select list of spells which are part of his very best memories - so his days with the Marauders, probably the victories in the battles which the Order of the Phoenix did with the Death Eaters, as well as those from his worst memories - battles lost in which his friends died and stuff.

I think how much the student body interacts with Harry Potter or, indeed, each other is a bit exaggerated both by Rowling's earlier work and by fanfiction. If there was a celebrity who went to your school - sure enough, if you were a fan, you'd probably go and introduce yourself to him or her at some point. If you don't become with friends with people who don't have an extremely loud personality to begin with - chances are they'll fade into the furniture and the stairs and you'll have other things to worry about.

His relationship with Ron and Hermione, however, that's a huge, huge moment for you to shine as a writer! Here, you have so, so much room to interpret how their characters would treat the incident and change from their interactions with their best friend. Would they even know?

Even if you're using it in jest, please don't call Dumbledore a coot. You're not Rita Skeeter. You are not Generic Death Eater #48 who says things like "Curse you, you manipulative old coot, foiled again!" Even in the latter case, this is Harry Potter, not Scooby Doo. His go-to response to Dumbledore in most of their interactions is probably the Killing Curse.

I do, however, see the opportunity for Dumbledore and Harry's relationship to deteriorate. Of course, you should keep in mind that Sirius forgave Dumbledore for his imprisonment from what we know of canon. Harry, depending on how much maturity he picks up, might be more or less inclined to do the same.

Why must Fleur's family be important and well connected and with their fingers in the cookie jar already? Why can't their family be the French equivalent of the Weasleys? Not super critical of this cliche, but I'd prefer to read a story in which Fleur's motivations are shaped by her peers rather than "Veela culture" or the importance of her family or some garbage. Needless to say, my conception of Fleur in this case would find it much, much easier to connect to Harry.

Fleur is not a gallivanting veela dominatrix. It's clear that she's a girl of 17 years, with probably a set of very similar expectations, fears and hopes that you had at 17. Sure, she's probably the most beautiful girl anyone's seen, but the whole "women, especially beautiful women, are people too!" is a Thing in good writing.

That's not to say that I don't agree with the sentiment. Sirius's imprisonment and his already-immature self would probably not add too many years to Harry's psyche. At the same time, the traumatized pseudo-old self should never be confused for that of a person who's actually aged.

I think you're overestimating how much Voldemort cares about anything but the personal pursuit of power and offing the people on his "hit list". Of course, you can make Voldemort smarter. This would make Sirius's experiences that much more poignant, I think.

No.

This is not a new idea by any means, but it's one of those that everyone wishes were done well, I think. By all means, if you can do it well, go ahead.

If you write a decently sized chapter the idea I ran through, I'll beta it. (Meaning 3000+ ish in length). Time permitting (meaning ~1-2 days), I'll give you comments. If I like it, and you like my comments, I guess I'll beta more.

I think that we're beyond witchhunts on plagiarism. Either the admins will deal with it, or they won't. Whatever. :\

As I said, welcome to DLP and stuff!

 

I think its already done though with Harry getting James memories. James and Sirius are pretty much alike.

 

Yeah, this sounds a lot like The Lie I've Lived.

 

Now that you put it that way, it really does. O.O

That's not to say it's not workable, by any means. TLIL was fun to read, but a large portion of it really didn't stand the test of time, in my opinion at least.

Ugh.

I'm still sitting on my Bond!Harry/BondGirl!Fleur fic and also Before They Burn, which was my whole Grindelwald-won-the-war thing, if anyone remembers at all.

If someone wants to write more of it or something, go right ahead. Doubt I'll ever get back to Before They Burn, even if CrackedMind has rights over Bond!fic.

Oh fuck it. I might as well post everything I have. Consider this a treat for those who like my writing and maybe a starting point for something bigger.

A wild Lungs!bunny appears.

Before They Burn

Not (even close to being) a songfic, but certainly inspired by the following lyrics:

"You'd better run for the hills before they burn,
listen to the sound of the world and watch it turn.
I just want to show you what I know
and catch you when the currents let you go.
Or should I just get along with myself
I never did get along with everybody else
I've been trying hard to do what's right
But you know I could stay here all night
And watch the clouds fall from the sky..."

(This River is Wild, off of the Killer's Sam's Town)

Managed to (semi-creatively) utilize some of those in crafting a very specific way Harry looks at magic - more on that later. If any of you read Fractal, this Harry's magic is what Astrid's is based off of.


this fic is.. Up for Adoption!
unless someone really, really
really
really
motivates me to continue this.
​

I apologize for any cringeworthy writing. Especially in scenes of conflict. I think I've gotten good enough to realize which bits were good and which aren't.

And that's not all. I had written a bunch of stuff too! Or something:

Prologue

note: it doesn't quite follow the plot bunny - in this case, Harry tries out his magic even before meeting Snape, and that only confirms it for him.

One Evening...

Lord Delacour’s accent was a crisp Parisian, refined and to the point. He never used more words than necessary and there was a stoicism to his manner of speech. Of course, this was the image he wished to put forth when there were guests around. There were little things that gave away the reality of his upbringing - that of a young, handsome German factory worker who had caught the eye of Lady Apolline.

“Show Mr. Snape to the guest room, Harry.”

“Yes, sir.”

The visitor and the servant sized one another up. Severus Snape’s coal black eyes seemed to mirror Harry’s lustrous green in depth. This was a learned man, Harry realized and without a pause, he bowed slowly. He led the taller figure through the halls of Delacour manor, glancing back at times.

Harry spoke first. “If you do not mind, what is your business here, sir?”

Snape didn’t seem to mind much. “I am in the interest of procuring more funding for supplies from the Lord.” His cloak billowed behind him like a cape and a proud lapel pin flashed “Support the King!” in black and gold and German.

“Do you work for my Lord?” Harry asked, spurred on by curiosity.

“Yes. I am one of the three Master Stirrers of Delacour Potions.”

They walked in silence as Harry frowned, staring forward firmly. Delacour Potions sold all manner of unpleasant concoctions that Lord Delacour told Fleur about in secret. They ranged from the mostly harmless Essence of Janus, which kept the Night Guard awake for weeks on end, to the nameless Delacour-brand opioid that sold in huge quantities to the poor of Paris…

“What do you brew?”

“This and that.” Severus Snape was a curt man. Or perhaps he had sensed Harry’s discomfort.

There was a loud crash in the background and Snape immediately dropped to the ground besides the wall, pulling out a long, wooden utensil.

Harry stared at it, dumbstruck. “Is that a wand?”

“I’m okay!” someone shouted from several rooms over, alerting the general public to the fact that nothing serious had occurred.

Snape drew the utensil back into a hidden cloak pocket. “No.” Harry couldn’t keep the frown off of his face, so Snape continued. “It is a Stirrer’s Rod, boy.”

“What can it do?” Harry asked, even though he knew the answer already.

“Magic.”

Harry nodded sedately and opened the heavy oak door, waving Snape in. The midnight black cloak, stained dull with solutions and grime, whipped past Harry.

“Come in here, boy.”

Harry complied.

Snape looked at him truly, for a moment. “You have… rather unique eyes. Tell me, are you an Englishman?”

Harry nodded.

“Could you possibly be from the town of Cokeworth?”

Harry’s eyes narrowed slightly. His birth was a sore point. “I must confess to not knowing where I hail from, sir.”

“Never mind then. Is there anything I should know?” Snape stared into his eyes more intently, somehow.

“I do not believe so. Dinner is at Seven.”

Harry closed the door gently and picked up his pace towards Lord Delacour’s study.

“Harry!” came the voice of one of the maids that had learned how to clean with him, in the years long past.

“Hello, Katie. I’m just going back to the master’s study now.”

“Well, don’t mind me then,” she said quickly. “Go see to the Lord.”

Harry stared at her nonplussed for a moment. “You broke the plates, didn’t you?”

Katie looked downwards, color rising to her cheeks. “It wasn’t my fault. Young Miss used magic on me.” She said the word with loathing and no small amount of fear.

Harry’s voice turned cold. “Gabrielle is the last person you should blame, Katie.” His anger was misplaced. What he had wanted to do was grab her by the shoulders and tell her how wonderful magic was.

In the same vein, her eyes had turned hard. “It’s easy for you to say. It’s always Fleur this and Gabrielle that. Not everyone has it as easy as you do, Harry Potter.” She switched to English, a sharp Irish accent. “We can’t all be favorites.” She grabbed him by the arm suddenly and there was a wistful longing in her eyes now. “Do you want to stay here forever, Harry Potter?”

He was truly angry now, his face slightly red. “Don’t touch me, Katie.” He pushed her hand off of his arm and stalked off towards Lord Delacour’s room.

Katie stared at his retreating back. “Don’t touch me, he says. Don’t touch me.” She pushed her honey-colored hair, more brown than blonde and not nearly good enough, out of her tear-streaked eyes and stared into a mirror across the hall.

“Harry, Harry!” shouted Gabrielle, who had appeared out of nowhere, seemingly. She dashed past Katie and ran after the retreating boy.

Harry turned around and swept Gabrielle up into a twirl. The girl giggled like mad and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Did you hear the plates?” she queried rapidly.

“Yes, I heard the plates,” Harry said with a bit of strain. Gabrielle noticed.

“Are you upset?” She pouted up at him.

“A little bit. You shouldn’t pick on Katie, Miss.”

Gabrielle’s face adopted a slightly twisted, yet obscenely cute, expression. “But it’s fun. Why do you care anyway?” she whined.

“I’m just giving an opinion, Miss. Just giving an opinion.”

Gabrielle pushed herself against him and looked up, her face right below his chest and pouted even harder. Harry smiled again and slowly untangled himself from the girl and knocked on the study.

“Come in.” This voice was cultured, something feminine and beautiful.

Harry did. “My Lady,” he said, bowing to Apolline Delacour. He turned to the figure seated at the desk and reported that Snape had been quartered properly, then withdrew to a corner.

The study was a strange clash of ideas and ideals which always hurt Harry’s eyes. There was the Lord’s chair, a huge silver and gold trimmed thing that was made of hollow wood - it was only sale in a small furniture store in Paris - sitting on a carpet from Persia which had cost more than he had. To the naked eye, the chair looked to be a cultured, sophisticated piece, but Harry knew otherwise. He had nearly broken it multiple times while dusting it. A chandelier of crystal - bought from a German manufacturer - hung over the smart mahogany desk which had been a Delacour family heirloom.

Lord Delacour never spoke refined French around Apolline - he preferred to speak in German, despite the fact that she hated it. Harry did as well.

“… And the quarterly profits have exceeded thirteen million Marks, so we’ll be able to afford that new fur coat you’ve been going on about…”

Harry loved it when Apolline rolled her eyes - they were such a beautiful blue.

“Harry, go entertain yourself.” Harry snapped back to attention and quickly walked out of the room. As he turned into a corridor he knew was empty, his feet began to move with a rhythm - a sort of march. It was a silly little thing from a time long ago, but there was something special about it that he didn’t seem to remember. One, two, three-four. One, two, three-four.

“That is a rather strange walk, servant.”

He looked up quickly. It was the man dressed in black - Severus Snape. Harry was mortified.

“If I were a less learned man, I would have believed that you were an imbecile of some sort…” Harry stared back defiantly, “but I do know some things about magic,” Snape finished. “It is manifested in strange ways. Tell me, boy,” he had switched to English, “are you familiar with the phrase ‘Idle hands do the devil’s work’?”

Harry shook his head.

Snape drew his Stirrer’s Rod at held it up to the light. “This is not a wand, boy, but a symbol of my knowledge, a symbol of my shame. It gives me the right to magic. A Stirrer’s Rod is more precious to a potionmaker than anything in the world.” He held it out to Harry, his eyes unreadable.
Harry stared at it for a moment, then received it.

“Give it a wave.”

And then, the world was brighter, a thousand points of light resonated with him, the operation of the world had changed. He was Harry Potter and if the golden sparks were any indication-

“You’re a wizard... Harry,” said the voice, surly and begrudging but wondrous all the same.

Later

During the day, Delacour Manor was a world of maids running about and cleaning, of house guests and precocious children.

During the night, there was silence.

Fleur didn’t like the silence - she was a vibrant girl, full of life and light and sun - so Harry always slept in a small cot in her room to chase the monsters away. Even as she grew older, Harry was never removed from her room.

Harry didn’t like Fleur’s room. Everything was white and bright and the night lights, cleverly enchanted faux-fireflies, lit everything starkly. But tonight, they were overshadowed by the soft brilliance of the moon. He walked over to the window, at the foot of Fleur’s bed, and stared at it. In his left hand was an old, dog eared copy of Grundlagen der Magie, 1. It had been in the exact spot he’d placed it in the old oak bookshelf all those years ago. He loved how organized he was for Fleur.

In his other hand was a stick. He laughed a bit, not too loudly because he hated waking Fleur and because no one could know of what he was doing. He flipped through the book slowly, torn between trying to learn as much as possible and getting through the entirety of the text.
His toes began tapping the thick carpet ever so gently. One, two, three-four.

“W-wingardium Leviosa!” he said a tad too loudly as he pointed the stick at a quill on Fleur’s desk. Nothing happened. Not even a wobble.

Fleur stirred, so Harry quickly put the book back into Fleur’s shelf and threw the stick out the window.

“What were you doing over there, Harry?”

“N-nothing, Miss.”

Fleur slid out of bed and glided over to him, putting her hands on his shoulders. “Hey, if there’s something wrong, you can tell me, Harry.”

Harry shook his head a tad too emphatically. “Nothing’s wrong, Miss.”

Fleur laughed delicately, her eyes twinkling in the moonlight. “You shouldn’t lie to me, Harry.” Her tone became serious and Harry looked away in slight shame.

“I’m not, Fleur.”

Fleur seemed a little frustrated now. “Harry, look me in the eye and tell me that you really don’t have any concerns.”

Harry continued to look downwards. Fleur took a deep breath and drew him into a deep hug.

“Read to me.”

“What should I read, miss?”

Fleur chuckled, her left cheek still against his right shoulder. “You know what you should read, Harry.”

He nodded dutifully and sat her down on the bed, then rose with no small amount of trepidation to the bookshelf. What if she noticed that her old schoolbooks were less dusty than- He nearly slapped himself. He was being far too paranoid. He withdrew the Ninety Thirty Two edition of Contes du Chaudron de la Sorcière Vieille and flipped to the story of the Four Founders.

“Once upon a time, there four very good friends who were skilled in all manners of magic arcane and mighty.” Fleur leaned back and closed her eyes, smiling. Harry took this as a good sign.

“First among them was Fortune-Favored Gryffindor, brave and bold to no end. Then, there was the kind-hearted Hufflepuff who was good to all. The third was the beautiful and brilliant Ravenclaw, gifted with foresight beyond any man. And lastly, there was the sly Slytherin, the Patron Mage of Serpents everywhere.”

Harry quickly glanced up. Fleur’s eyes had remained closed, but her breathing had not evened out yet.

“The four came together to found a school, and decided to name it something silly. Toadbits? Muledroppings? No, Hogwarts! Brick by brick, stone by stone, they built a castle most magnificent and grand to house the greatest magic of them all - learning.”

“Every year, there would be people who came by horse, by floo and by portal to learn. But Slytherin didn’t want to teach them all. ‘Only the purest of blood shall I take!’ he proclaimed as he wrote a thousand equations of arithmancy and looked upon the true nature of the world with his alchemy. ‘If Salazar shall have a choice, then I shall too,’ proclaimed Ravenclaw. ‘I will only teach those with the mental strength to withstand my knowledge of Runes and Divination.’ Gryffindor shook his head in dismay, ‘We are too divided, my friends. I propose that we teach only the brave to brew potions and tangle with magical creatures!’”

Fleur’s eyes were open now. Harry sighed, realizing that he had to finish the rest of the story.

“‘And I shall teach everyone you won’t,’ said Hufflepuff, ‘I shall teach them to charm a thousand things and transfigure a thousand more. I shall teach them to duel.’ And then, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor were ashamed, acquiescing to Hufflepuff’s declaration and pledging to take all students as their own. But Slytherin held firm for many days and nights.”

Harry quickly looked up yet again and Fleur smiled at him, looking almost anticipatory?

“‘I will look into the eyes of every student and, if they tell me the truth of their parentage, I shall teach them,’ Slytherin said reluctantly. And thus, the school of Hogwarts was formed.”

Harry closed the book with a snap. Fleur frowned. “You were supposed to read the rest of it,” she complained.

“It’s beyond your bedtime, Miss.”

“I’m seventeen,” she snapped, looking irritated. “I can decide when I want to sleep or not.”

Harry took an involuntary step backward. “Miss, then, please accept that I’m too tired to read aloud? It is far beyond my bedtime,” he quickly amended.

“Oh, Harry, I’m not actually angry at you.” She closed her eyes and turned over. Harry smiled despite himself.

He watched her fall asleep before he began muttering to himself once more.

“The most important charm for a beginner is a shield charm,” Harry recited. “The incantation is Protego and a sharp circular wave.” He sighed somewhat deeply. “It represents a marked increase in the wizard’s ability to survive, stopping all manner of projectiles and spells,” he continued to whisper, his hand swirling about awkwardly.

“Protego!”

Nothing.

Always nothing.

He felt this inexorable force building in him, traveling from all over him, his skin, his muscles, his organs, his very bones, move toward his hand, then… nothing.

He threw the fake wand out the window.

His ears had become long accustomed to the breathing patterns of Fleur’s sleep, and it seemed that she was about to wake suddenly, so he quickly dashed the three hundred meters to the kitchen over the soft carpet.

“Hi Katie. A glass of juice please, something Miss Fleur would enjoy.” Harry puffed.

Katie nodded and poured a large measure of juice into a cup, then told the icemaker very firmly that three pieces of ice ‘would be nice’. The magical utensil belched once and three ice cubes appeared, suspended in midair. Katie scooped them up from the bottom with the cup and dragged it out of the magical field that would have held it in place.

Harry took the cup from her and turned to leave.

“Don’t go yet, Harry,” Katie said. She reached into the cupboard and pulled out a small, oblong fruit that was red and green in shade. “Happy seventeenth birthday,” she said in English. She smiled.

Harry stared for a moment. “Is that a mangue?”

“Yes. Imported from the Brazilian Empire. The vendor told me that you should peel off the skin before you eat it.”

“Thank you, Katie,” Harry said, as he quickly pulled a knife from the cutlery block and sliced it delicately, pulling back the skin. He gave the yellow-orange flesh a tentative bite and then grinned in surprise as he quickly finished it, dripping everywhere.

Katie chuckled. “Now, you best take the cup of juice to Miss Fleur.”

Harry nodded once and pounded down the hall in a slow lope, always ready to serve but never really a servant.

Chapter 1 (but only the quarter or third I'd written)

The Next Morning

“Did you break the vase?”

“N-no sir,” she cried, almost pitifully as Lord Delacour’s wand snapped out a rapid staccato. A series of huge red welts appeared over Katie’s arms.

Harry was standing by the door of the Delacour study, the taste of mangoes in his mouth, a previously unseen frown upon his face.

“Lacero!” Lord Delacour cried, and Katie’s arm burst open. “Do you know what that vase was?”

Katie shook her head despite herself, even as she screamed in pain, writhing on the floor, blood spraying everywhere.

Gabrielle sat in her father’s desk, a satisfied smirk upon her face.

It was almost ironic how angelic she looked, Harry decided.

“Lacero! That was a gift for my services to the Reich from the First Minister of the King! Lacero!” Katie was now bleeding profusely.

“I should end your life right now.”

The door to the study burst open, with Fleur completely out of breath, her wand in her hand.

“Is Harry being-“ She looked down at the ground and saw Katie. “Oh.”

Her wand dropped to her side.

Harry swallowed, unable to feel anything. The world slowed to a stop. His hand shot out.

His hand closed around Fleur’s wand.

Elbow pointed at opponent, bent at ninety degrees, wrist pointed at opponent, bent at ninety degrees.

His hand shook.

Feet a shoulder width apart, knees slightly bent.

“Stop that, my Lord.”

Fleur didn’t even make a grab for her wand. “Whatever are you doing, Harry?” she exclaimed, looking ready to laugh. He looked almost like her dueling instructor, the fifty five year old Meurseault, standing like that.

Lord Delacour turned and stared at the servant boy incredulously. “Put the fucking wand down.”

“No. You put your wand down. Stop torturing her.”

“You presume to command me?” Lord Delacour asked, confusion on his face apparent. “You damn English dogs are all the same. When I thought I’d bought a good specimen- Lacero!” His wand slashed suddenly.

A sharp circular wave.

“Protego!” A warmth grew within him as his body recognized the presence of a conduit in his right hand. Every pore sang as they seemed to push out magic at once. A glowing blue shield rested in the air between Lord Delacour and Harry.

Harry dropped the shield.

After the shield charm, the correct position to assume is that of a perfectly straight arm, wand pointed again at your opponent. Take half a step back and stand tall.

“Heal her.” His voice shook. Lord Delacour growled.

“Tanzen Blitzen!”

If Lightning is ever summoned in a battle, touching your wand to the floor will generally diffuse it before the devastating bolts could be fired.

Harry dropped to the floor quickly, tapping it with his wand and the environment sucked the power out of the spell.

If you are caught in a position that will do you no good in the long run, fire a spell that allows you to move into a better location. Every second in a duel counts.

Harry snapped his wand upwards and dragged it back. “Pichi Pietre!” A trio of long spikes of earth floated in front of him as he stepped back, his head hitting the closed door gently. He ground his teeth - a perfect incarnation of the spell would have created slabs of marble and not clods of dirt. He waved his arm in yet another circle and the dirt was Banished at Lord Delacour.

“What are you doing, Harry?” Fleur shrieked as she narrowly dodged his violent swing.

“Stupefy!” Harry shouted, pointing his wand at her. Lord Delacour batted the last of the earth out of the way even as Fleur crumpled to the ground, unmoving. Gabrielle screamed.

“Interitum Propter Leti!” Lord Delacour’s wand flashed yellow, then gold, throwing the room into a sharp negative.

The words of a text written by the King himself on the Dueling Arts came to mind. Feel the magic upon the breeze, whether you have cast it or if it has been leveled against you.

He closed his eyes, feeling for the magic, his eighteen years of experience condensed into a singular sensation. The wand of Veela hair collided with the dark yellow spell, sending it careening into a vase. The shocked look on Lord Delacour’s face filled his mind.

The incredulous expression gave away into confusion and anger. "Where did you learn to duel, boy?" came the harsh whisper.

“From Fleur, sir.” The inflection was no different, but Lord Delacour heard the sheer mocking now.

He could not help but scoff in response. “My daughter cannot duel. She can’t even cook.” Harry stared at him indignantly.

“But she has schoolbooks.” Harry brought his wand up again, but Gabrielle cut him off.

“What brought this on?” It seemed to be the question that everyone wanted to know - even Katie, who was quietly moaning on the ground, the flow of blood stilled as Lord Delacour’s wand healed her slowly.

Harry did not speak, for everyone in the room knew. He had always been more noble than the others.

Harry however, did contribute to fill the gloomy silence after another unbearable minute. "I'm an Englishman by birth, of black hair and green eyes. A citizen-slave of the third, bought and sold as chattel."

Lord Delacour’s eyes hardened. “Did we not treat you well? As family, even? I’ve beaten you just as much as I would have beaten my children had they been boys. I’ve allowed you to sleep in the room of my daughter for close to two decades. Who are you to complain? You have been treated better than any slave I’ve ever seen.”

“But I’m not free.”

Lord Delacour’s lips pursed. “I’m not freeing you. Do you realize how much you’re worth? I paid a fortune for you when you were a child.”

“But I’ll be going anyway. Let me leave or…” Harry looked down at his wand, his face resolute and his eyes angry. “Or I’ll kill Fleur.”

There was another silence.

Lord Delacour slowly lowered his wand even as Harry raised his. “Stupefy!” The jet of red light caught Lord Delacour in the chest even as Harry scooped the still-Stunned Fleur off the ground gently and pulled the door open.

I Found a goddamned Lime. LMFAO

Spoiler

Harry pointed the wand at a pile of wood and gave a textbook twist. "Incendio," he decided, his pronunciation perfect from long hours of practicing deep into the night.

A jet of flame, golden, orange and full of hope washed over the dry branches and Harry stared at the fire, mesmerized.

Fleur scooted closer to him, bringing her arms around him as they sat in silence.

Abruptly, Harry began to weep silently, trails of salty tears glinting in the light of the embers.

"Go home, Fleur."

Fleur took a deep breath. "No."

"Why the hell not?" Harry whispered loudly, his green eyes narrowing slightly and his fist clenching over the wand with more force than he intended.

"You're alone," she said, as if it explained everything.

Harry waited for Fleur to continue, but she didn't, choosing instead to hum a little tune.

Harry opened his mouth to ask her to clarify, but suddenly, Fleur was upon him, her delicate, coral pink lips pressed against his rougher mouth.

The world exploded in a shower of blinding lights as their tongues wrestled and they moved in time with the oldest rhythm of them all.

The shadows cast by the campfire danced as Fleur ran her hands over Harry's chest, inviting him to reciprocate the motion.

He did, responding with a certain sort of animalistic fury that railed against his place in the world, against the hand dealt to him by fate. He grabbed her shoulder roughly, but Fleur was reminded of how gentle and kind Harry truly was when he cupped her breasts almost reverently.

Fleur shed her summer dress with a sort of grace that girls at the age of seventeen simply weren't supposed to possess, and Harry's mouth opened in awe at the cascade of the blonde hair, tracing the outline of her pert pink nipples. His eyes wandered down her abdomen and navel to her-

He blushed.

"Oh Harry, you're so sweet," Fleur said softly, removing Harry's shirt deftly. Harry's blush deepened, but he followed her lead, pushing his pants down past his knees and kicking them off.

In an instant, Fleur was upon him, claiming his lips yet again and running her hands about his body.

Harry growled in a way that he didn't know he was capable of, turning Fleur over.

"Take me, Harry," Fleur challenged him, her face alight with a blend of mischievousness and anticipation.

"Fleur," Harry moaned, his eyelids shutting forcefully as he complied. Fleur gave a long, drawn out mewl as Harry lost control, speeding up.

Fleur bit into Harry's shoulder even as his lips found the crook of her neck. Harry gasped involuntarily at the blend of pain and pleasure and came, grunting.

Harry rolled off of her, his eyes still closed, his heart hammering a heavy march.

"I'm not leaving you, Harry," Fleur said, as she began to cast a layer of protective wards over their campsite.

Harry nodded, completely spent.

Character Piece on Tom Riddle

He moved like a man four times younger than he was, with a sort of handsomeness and maturity not of the present day and age.

For the first time she could remember, she realized that she was hopelessly outmatched by the pale knight in front of her.

A thorny whip transfigured out of her rope of fire snapped at her wand hand and she gave a bloodcurdling shriek.

"I'll kill you yet, Tom Riddle!" she promised, a sort of wildness entering her eyes to mask the fear she felt.

Tom blinked stoically, choosing not to respond as his wand of the whitest yew flashed again, drawing shapes and symbols known to scholars and ancients.

A crackling bolt of lightning zipped into her other arm, sending a jolt of electricity through her so strong that she immediately fell to the ground, twitching.

She screamed again. The world became hyperreal to her as her nerves took in everything and anything.

The slow throbbing gush of blood in her wand hand magnified a hundred fold and she was paralyzed by simple sensation.

"Wh- Wh- what-"

She was unable to continue.

At last, an emotion came upon Tom's face.

It was monstrous, a sort if psychopathic glee that she had always claimed to have felt, but could not even dream of.

She wanted to curse, but the merest motion of her lips caused a burst of pain as if she had been bit by a blunt object and a burst of pleasure as if she had been kissed, so she didn't say a word.

"Fantastic."

A tear rolled down her cheek, of shame and pain and-

He abruptly struck her, hard, and she felt herself moaning in the worst hurt she had ever felt.

In a smooth motion, the strike turned into a mocking caress. Her eyes widened in horror, but Tom only laughed at her.

She didn't know if the emotion running through her was relief or righteous anger.

"Tell me, who is supplying the Reich with information about our cause?"

She didn't know entirely, but she also didn't want to let him down - she wanted to live! She wanted to see her family before she inevitably died, she wanted to-

She opened her mouth to provide a fabrication, but the expression on Tom's face was not encouraging.

Was she that transparent, or did all of the man's victims think as she did?

She was under no doubt that this wasn't the first time Tom was doing this. Tom Riddle had a reputation among the folks on the Squad and even among the most notorious legion of them all...

The spell let up for a moment, and she was surpassed at how disappointed she was. There was a certain dullness to her motions and thoughts, though she had forgotten nothing.

"Kill me," she ventured.

"Not until you tell me who has been working against us, Bella."

She gasped. She couldn't have been known to him by name. She came from an important family, but a minor branch... She-

"You have thirty seconds."

"I don't know anything!" she cried out in panic.

Tom's face twisted in disgust and he applied the curse again. This time, he followed his magical work with a heavy punch.

The impact was impossibly painful, but then, it was gone forever.

"Avada Kedavra."

Tom looked down at the corpse. "I usually play with my food, but your dignity is already somewhat nonexistent. Good luck on your next great adventure!" he said cheerfully, and vanished.

Bella's blank eyes stared at the starry, starry night.

Harry Repairs a Broom

this is a big deal because the use of broom sticks was a hallmark of the Allied defense and when they lost, Grindelwald flipped a shit and banned them and burned all of them. This scene is special to me because it's the first time I wrote a Harry doing something which I consider awesome which didn't read like pick-any-trashy-super!Harry-fic. Edited slightly.

Harry’s hands ran along the old object with reverence, his eyes alight. It was a Shooting Star from 1945, a relic of the last Valkyrie Squadron. He paused to think of the name, seeing a strange irony.

His companion frowned meaningfully, her eyes reaching into the storybooks and fairy tales as though in a trance.

“And he, he was the God of Lightning,” Fleur said softly, her cultured Parisian lilt taking a melodic nostalgia.

“Thor and his many Valkyrie,” Harry muttered. “Of course, this bears no real connection to it…”

Fleur smiled, her expression encouraging. “It's about what you believe Harry. You’ve always known this. You can do it. You’ve studied everything you could find about brooms.”

Harry pointed her wand at the broken Shooting Star, a thousand unsaid words upon his lips.

“You can do it,” Fleur repeated, a slight urgency leaking into her tone.

“Reparo.” A slight jet of blue light left his wand.

Nothing happened. Harry put the wand down and Fleur bit her lip.

“I didn’t expect anything to happen,” Harry said heavily, but undeterred.

Fleur opened her mouth to speak, but Harry held a forefinger to his lips. She closed it with a slight click, an almost erotic sound permeating the old mill.

For a moment, the sound of the soft breeze over the English cornfields surrounding them was echoed by the rotten and decaying wood around them as though someone had to respond to Fleur.

Harry stared at the broom unblinkingly, then traced his wand in a slow figure eight, relishing in the residual magic left in the broom. It was well made. A very powerful wizard, or a great many of them, had designed this. Despite being snapped in half and left to rot with the mill, the ambient energies which the broom had gathered once manifested.

“Reparo,” he repeated, with more certainty.

Nothing happened.

Fleur let out a sigh of disappointment, but her expression quickly changed to that of curiosity as Harry began to breathe in a slow, rhythmic pace.

At first, Harry’s eyes snapped around to various objects surrounding him in horror. He couldn't ever get used to the explosion of color which connecting with the magic of the environment granted his sight. It was horrific in the way that a bare truth was horrific - so stark and bland that it triggered some existential impulses within him. Then he calmed, coming to grips with a world of green and gold. Magic was beautiful, if a little too honest at times.

He was the broom, a part of the broom, he reminded himself.

A part of the broom.

He never became the broom. He always was the broom. From the moment it was created, as each... spell... was... cast...

His heart rate dropped dangerously, then surged as his body fought against his magic while his mind reveled in the images and histories suddenly clear to him.

He took quick breathes, hyperventilating. High as a kite. No, much higher than a kite! He was a broom.

“Braking charms,” he whispered, as he felt himself for how he stopped. The world stilled.

“Acceleration charms,” he quickly spat, “Weather charms.”

There was the curious sensation of being able to perceive the effects of these spells as though they were cast on his body to begin with.

His mind was a jumble of Arithmantic equations, he was an engineer now, he was an inventor - he solved problems and created spells. He withdrew from the paradoxical pretense of being a broom and began to do what he loved best.

“Flammata,” he whispered. His wandtip shimmered blood orange. He began to draw on the air, burning words illuminating the inside of the long-abandoned mill. Fleur stared at the crossbeam above them which looked ready to collapse with some trepidation.

He quickly worked out that which he understood, and conjured a pencil and paper to write down what he couldn’t solve immediately.

He could do it. He could rebuild the Shooting Star. After all, he’d done things which cost his magic a lot more than just a little bit of enchantment on the side.

That's all I have, folks.

Uhh, if anyone's serious about writing it, they can probably message me with questions. I probably remember a lot more about this than just the shit in my notes and all.

Likewise, if there's enough discussion here about the awesome choices I could potentially make, I might just screw it all and go ahead and write it. lol.
​

 

I did not realize that this idea was so similar to TLIL. :\

Well, thank you for the reply and I'll address all your points below. I haven't written for Harry Potter at all so it's a learning experience.

1) I came up with this idea right before I went to bed last night and when I was tired. I didn't have time to flesh it out. I would definitely expand on the what's and why's on Harry's Patronous.

2) Here's a better way to explain it. Sirius is the only true family Harry has left. He wouldn't just sit back and watch him get kissed.

3) Flux is the transition of magic from one state of existence to another, normally defined as a person's inner magic transforming into actual magic. Flux is something that is neer impossible to control as it is chaotic, undefined. Very few people can control flux without a controlling object, thus why there are few users of wandless magic.

Through the use of a wand, far weaker wizards could control flux, allowing them to use magic which then explains the mass prevalence of wands in the Wizarding World.

4) What made you disappointed? I'm trying to figure out the weak points and strengthen them.

5) When I meant jaded, I meant older, darker, less sure of his identity, but yeah, I see what you mean.

I would also agree that this would shatter his confidence. Didn't think about Sirius forgetting almost everything... is that canon or an interpretation of fact? Because I could simply say once a soul learns something, it is never forgotten even if it disappears from conscious memory.

6-7) I'm sorry about the jestful comment about Dumbledore and that would definitely not appear in the story. Thanks over your comments about Dumbeldore and Ron/Hermione. When I meant student body, I meant the people who associate with Harry, not the body as a whole.

8 ) I admit, that was not terribly smart of me by brining the Delacours there. My sleep deprived brain probably wanted to have Fleur's parents watch as the relationship came into being. I'll change that.

9) I didn't mean it like that. Fleur is a Veela who is accustomed to boys drooling at her. Why wouldn't she embrace the gift? All I'm saying is that she would be interested to see a boy not drool at the sight of her. It's something that she's not expecting and that makes her curious.

And I must admit I'm a little confused over your last sentence in this section.

10) I probably would make Voldemort a bit smarter and have him realize that this is a golden opportunity to cause chaos and make the British too preoccupied to deal with him.

11) Okay. Just throwing it out there.

12) I would have to do some research (a lot of research), but I'm really tempted to actually try the living James/Lily with Harry/Fleur. Could you direct to such a site where I could make sure the story was as close to canon as possible?

And do you think I should start in fourth year with Fleur and have conversations and such reveal the changes in the universe? Or should I simply start just before Year 1?

Before I get too far into it, which idea do you think I should pursue? The Sirius/soul one or the living James/Lily one? I'm leaning towards the third one simply because I now know that TLIL is really similar to the Sirius/soul idea...

13) Thank you for the offer! I'll keep it in mind. I have finals and other non HP stories so this is not 1st on my priority list. Although, if I could get enough information and inspiration and suggestions, I'd probably start writing this. Always wanted to add to the Harry/Fleur community...

Just wondering, is there any news about possible updates for any good Harry/Fleur stories?

EDIT: BTW, interesting story. Very interesting.

 

Great plot Lungs. I have a few things to point out.

1) I didnt see any reason why Fleur or Garbielle would like Harry while indifferent to Katie. Both are slaves.

2) Harry snapping seemed a bit forced. The lime scene between Harry and Fleur too.

Something non-related to your writing but related to the plot. Wasn't Grindelwald all about magical superiority? I dont see the Potters being 3rd class citizens even if they are English.

EDIT: Harry has been treated almost as his own child by Lord Delacour, so unless he has serious issues with not practicing magic or seeing other slaves treated very very badly, It doesnt even make sense that he snaps.

 

I believe that this is all Lungs has written and are not meant to be combined. Like the Lime would be seperate, the broom scene would be seperate, etc.

That said, I agree with sunkarapk. Wouldn't the Potters not be third class citizens due to magical power? Unless Harry never showed any aptitude for it of course...

 

Has it actually been confirmed in canon that Grindelwald was a proponent of "Magical power > blood"? If not, I think Lungs' Hitler-esque ideology is perfectly valid for Grindelwald. More so due to the fact many associate Grindelwald's war with WW2.

Also, we really need to work on that Bond!fic, Lungs.

 

I'm quite sure Grindelwald and Dumbledore wanted to create a world where muggle wouldn't be dangerous to wizards (because of Ariana). Now, if Grindelwald actually wanted that or simply used the excuse to bring Dumbledore into it.

"For the Greater Good."

 

Loved Lungs story, definitely great potential there, except he Riddle part, didn't like as whole there. And Aryanesque part of the regime. Answering sunkarapk 1) everyone has favorites, even parents have them (they die before admitting, but they still have) and Harry being a male must be a big reason why they like him, is easy to see Fleur and Gabrielle jealous of Katie, even if is subconciously. 2) Harry snapping look forced to us because we know barely next to nothing about his life there and his relationship with everyone, be it the Delacours or Katie. But I agree with the about the lime part, it did seemed forced.
Now to Lungs, a few questions. Is Tom Riddle inspired in V in what way? His methods, his cause or his psychotic determination? And will be the V from the movie? That is all about freedom and very little about Anarchy, unlike the comics. The V in the comics is more cruel, much more insane and even more set on his crusade against the "system". And do bear in mind, when I say Anarchy, I say true anarchy, not the all around chaos that americans thing that Anarchy means. And more, what is the relation between Hitler and Grindelwald ? About Grindelwald, we only know he wanted wizards in the top, so we don't really know his views in magical purity and etc. And lastly, when I read about the Secon Class citizens, and such, it reminded greatly 1984, any similarities? Brave New World would be a nice inspirational work together with V about what freedom is and how we need it. I am huge Harry/Fleur fan, the potential is huge, but I dislike soul bond, mind read and shit like that, and that's almost all fics out there. I will suggest a plot too, but only after serious thought on my part, so I wont be roasted here.
Samus 530, at first I thought your story was idiotic and cliche, but after seeing your answer to Lungs great analysis, I see that was unfair. It has potential, although it is a little cliche, but my main problem is the similarity with Lies I've Lived, a fic that I loved. So I suggest abandoning that plot, because is bound to be seen as a copy.
Finally just something I want to add, I always thought that a Gay!Sirius would be very interesting, and wouldn't just throw cannon in the trash, I hate Harry Slash because is nothing like Harry from any book, and I must admit I really dislike a work where the main character is gay, is not my cup of tea. But a secondary character? I think it adds to the history. Iimagine Sirius like Wallace from Scott Pilgrim. Wallace is awesome, insanely cool and the ultimate man whore, all things that remind me of Sirius. But if you disagree, please, please use good arguments, I will read them and if I think you are right, I will say so.

 

That is a fucking massive wall of text. Put in some damn paragraphs or no one will read it.

Also, from what I read it wasn't very coherent anyway. If English isn't your first language I don't mean to be rude, but seriously that whole post could use some work.

OT: Lungs that was pretty awesome. I don't care what you do (that or Bond!Harry) just please write some Harry/Fleur soon? I can't remember the last time I read a good story with the pairing.

Edit: You edited while I was posting, so now I kind of look like an asshole. Still could use some more spacing TBH.

 

This is what we know from canon.

Albus and Gellert made plans to find the Deathly Hallows and create a world in which Muggles would be subservient to wizards and witches. Grindelwald merely wanted to dominate and rule Muggles, whereas Voldemort wished to kill them outright, along with anyone he considered not of pure blood. An army of wizards and witches followed the Dark Wizard Gellert Grindelwald in the early twentieth century. They sought to create a worldwide wizarding empire, which would overturn the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy and force the Muggle population into slavery. Global Wizarding War was started by the Dark Wizard Gellert Grindelwald and his followers with the intentions of toppling the European Ministries of Magic, replacing them with a Wizarding Empire that would control the entire wizarding population of Earth and enslave the Muggles.

There was no connection to Hitler or Aryans or Germans other than JKR hinting about 1945 at a later date interview.

 

You're missing something quite important. Dumbledore and Grindelwald didn't want to dominate the Muggles out of some desire for power over them (or at least, that wasn't their philosophy - the desire for power no doubt played a psychological part in the development of that philosophy). The philosophy wasn't one of superiority but rather was essentially paternalistic: they believed that they could rule the Muggles better than the Muggles could rule themselves. That they could make the world a better place if they were in charge of the Muggles. Reduce their suffering. Thus "for the greater good". It's for the Muggles own good to be ruled by wizards, who can use magic to reduce crime, disease, etc.

 

That's a pretty interesting philosophy, and not entirely untrue. The world probably would be a better place if wizards used magic to reduce crime, war and poverty. The only problem is whether for that outcome wizards really need to rule over muggles, and whether that would lead to the wizards abusing their power. You could make the argument that wizards couldn't safely or realistically improve the global state of affairs unless they were ruling however - otherwise the muggles would be quite likely to resist and attack the wizards.

It could be interesting to see a world where Arianna Dumbledore never died, and Grindlewald and Dumbledore went on to create some sort of near-utopia where they ruled an empire of wizards ruling muggles, and actually improved quality of life for everyone. I'm not quite sure where the conflict would come in exactly - maybe Dumbledore and Grindlewald are getting too old, and looking to pass over leadership to someone. In comes Tom Riddle, etc.