When the Dark Lord triumphed over Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix in 1998, the world was changed irrevocably. Over a century afterwards, life does not remotely resemble what it used to.

At the turn of the century, all hell broke loose when The British Resistance attempted to finally end The Dark Lord’s reign, to achieve the impossible dream. Their plan, though brilliant and seemingly the only option, sent members of The Resistance sailing back through time to murder The Dark Lord before he could create the desolate world they all knew so well. They however, never could have imagined the consequences of their actions. In killing Tom Riddle as a child, they damaged time itself, and two possible universes collapsed, sending into the world three children from another place and time: Jackson and Ransom Potter and Sophia Weasley, the children who, quite literally, would have been.

Meanwhile, time itself seemed to rebel against the changes, wreaking its revenge on those living now. Time is no longer stable; it is no longer the constant. No one knows exactly what happened to time that night, at the turn of the century. Everyone knows though, time is no longer on their side. The damned Volderian Society is in for a wake up call of epic proportions.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is now unrecognizable. Not only are parts of the curriculum gone, but the fundamentals of the ancient academy have been all but destroyed. In the place of the proud Houses of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff is the House of Archinin, an all-male section of the school which is composed of nothing but the best, the future Voldemorts in the making.

At Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in 2100 you’ll find The Dark Lord himself acting as Headmaster with Bellatrix Lestrange working as Deputy Headmistress, corruption beyond comprehension, spies, ghosts, thieves, and the conniving, people who were supposed to have died long ago, Muggle prisoners kept for the sadistic amusement of the students, vendettas, death parties, pureblood balls, a rising death toll, betrayal, and…

A small Resistance, composed of young intellectuals, idealists, and those who are simply fed up with Archinin-favoritism. True, they are young, and true, they are naïve, but perhaps they will be the ones who will try to fix their broken world.

Paris, the city of lovers, has been reduced to rubble. It seems that Lord Voldemort stopped at nothing, gave no mercy, to this once proud capital, to one of the most beautiful places in the world. Buildings no longer exist in entirety, but in crumbled ruins, only fractions of their formerly glorious selves. A place that was once devoted to beauty and light is now a ghost town, a place where life is not is not so much in equilibrium between two opposing forces, but rather in limbo, hanging over the precipice.

That is, if it hasn’t passed the point of no return already.

The French are fighting their war, standing up against the evils in their society, no matter what the cost. For their valor alone, they are admired, even if it appears that their war will never end.

Life here, more than anywhere else, is a constant battle. A war between the Death Eaters and the French Resistance is being waged deep beneath the city streets—in the catacombs. Members of le resistance flit in the shadows of the old boutiques, patisseries, the Louvre, and of Notre Dame, attempting to hide from the Death Eaters, whose headquarters is in the heart of the city. Rather like the Muggle war more than a hundred and fifty years previously, every foot of ground counts. No one is safe, no one is an exception.

Including, it seems, the school of Beauxbatons.

It once stood in all of its gothic glory and decadence, in dramatic contrast to the blackened ruins and ashes. Within its luxurious hallways were girls of privilege, girls who were being trained up to be obedient little pure-blood girls, girls desperate to rebel and taste the world. Some sneak out to places like Entropine and common London in search of a good time. Other girls prepare themselves for fighting with the French Resistance after escaping their golden cage of a school. Others? Others plot secretly, watching their classmates closely, willing to betray them in a heartbeat if it means getting another future, one by the Dark Lord’s side.

Durmstrang’s Institute for Boys is the center of Sofia, Bulgaria, if not the entire country. The boys at this school are the champions of the years, they’re praised higher than anyone else, and the entire city literally revolves around them. Everyone knows that these are the ones who will become the servants of the Dark Lord, the bulk and muscle of his fighting forces. However, like everything in this world, there is something ugly beneath the surface.

Behind the formidable stone walls of their prized school is anarchy, a place where social Darwinism rules supreme. You don’t survive at Durmstrang unless you’re anything less than the best. These boys are taught that strength means everything, and weakness is to be routed out. Barbarians, blood-thirsty, untrained, uncultured brutes, are in the making.

After training and classes, the students retreat to the Chambers, a web of corridors in the dungeons of the school, where life is a cross between dog eat dog and an endless frat party. Check your morals and values at the door. And if that doesn’t suit you then the city limits of Central Bulgaria will surely not fail to entice.

The outermost edges of Central Bulgaria aren’t a place to be caught alone. Drug dealers, radicals, sex exploiters, and cheap drinks are on every corner. In the city limits the rule is to look but not touch because one never knows what may bite back.

The degeneration of this area is far beyond that witnessed in other parts of Volderian society. Morals have never been an issue for followers of the cause, but dedication, commitment, and raw desire are a must. The boys of Durmstrang are too drunk on vodka and their egos to notice that they may soon become quite undesirable, despite the attempts of their Headmaster. May they be warned, however: if they do not shape up, the Dark Lord will have no choice but to take matter into his own hands.

In place of the old Italian Ministry of Magic a school was built; Maltalvia Academy, a school for the brightest in the society, those who will surely help to run The Dark Lord’s administration. The Matter of Italy and this fine Academy however is tainted by the fact that here lies the heart of the greatest Resistance he has ever faced, and though Lord Voldemort loves a challenge, he does not love being challenged.

And people said that The Resistance was getting no where.

For deep within Italy, in a country-city named Vatican City, some progress, slow, agonizing, steady progress, had been made. Within these stone walls was the only land that the Dark Lord had yet to touch. There, witches and wizards from across the world worked tirelessly against the Volderian Reign.

Why the past tense? Because on one fateful night in February, he did touch it. On February 9th, in the dead of the night, Lord Voldemort sent his most trained Death Eaters to torch the place, and the world was sent reeling. Both the French and Italian Resistances were sent into a scramble at the attacks, and faithful students from all over the world apparated in moments to aid their comrades. It was the first real war Volderian Society had seen in a very long time.

But la resistenza vive.

It is your favorite dream. It is your very worst nightmare. It is Infamy and Entropy.