Disclaimer: I, unlike the amazing woman J K Rowling, do not own the beautiful legacy which has become an inextricable part of my somewhat deprived childhood otherwise known as Harry Potter.
A Dark Era;
Prologue
She is
Lonely.
Broken.
Dead.
She had given her all to the war, and what she did not, it took.
No longer a girl. The war had served as a cruel catalyst of her maturation by wrenching the lives of everyone she loved from her with frosty fingers.
She imagines sad quiet tombs encapsulating the memories of her loved ones with stony inscriptions...evidence that the still pale, too stiff corpses had once graced this earth and her life, making her who she was. She has to imagine. Because their bodies were not allowed any ounce of respect.
Harry. Died in war. Killed by Voldemort. No longer the boy who lived. Brought out of his miserable hell in Privet Drive by Dumbledore into a world full of magic and miracles, only to realize he had willingly traded one hell for another when the vast, vast sky above Hogwarts grew darker and ominous.
Ron. Died in war. Killed by Lucius Malfoy. Her first crush. And he hadn't even stayed long enough to know. He never did have the patience did he. Or the perceptiveness.
Ginny. Crucioed to death by Bellatrix while they were escaping. No more wide-eyed girl who had looked up to her in respect. No more source of comfort and inspiration to her when she was thoroughly hurt by Harry and Ron's insensitivity. She'd watched the blinding green light strike her back as they were running and steal the light from her eyes. She'd watched as she lay crumpled in a heap. Unresponsive to the world and everything else.
George. Avadaed himself when Fred died. Masters of Pranks gone. Founders of Wizarding Wheezing Weasleys perished. Without even passing her two packets of Nosebleed Nougats and torturing Umbridge more for her.
Luna. Such a dreamy, kind girl. At least her end was swift. She hoped it had been painless for the girl.
Collin Crevey. Harry Potter Number One fan. 'Will it be painful?' He had asked the hooded death eater as he stared at the pointed wand, pointed not to heal the scars it had created but to inflict more scars, and the chance to touch them.
All perished.
Amongst others. Remus. Tonks. Sirius. Kingsley. Madeye. Minerva. She had seen them fall. Paragons of the Light. Order of the Phoenix. Crumbling into dust and falling into the inviting embrace of sweet, vicious Death.
Poor Molly, crouching over her family's corpses and crying for their absence of life. Before getting avadaed by Bellatrix.
She blinked forcefully.
But the memories persisted in their assault of her mind, demanding to have a portion of her grieving heart which had already been hollowed by pain and only more pain.
Aren't you two ever going to read Hogwarts: A History?'
'What's the point? You know it all by heart, we can just ask you." Ron had simply stated.
But now-
Darkness had swallowed up all of the good there was left, corrupting, consuming. She had seen it. Touched their pale blue skins. Felt their lack of pulses.
The war had slowly dissected her. Analyzed her weaknesses for people expertly like a gourmet critiquing a certain tray of cuisine. Like a proficient literary critic dissecting a Shakespearean play with a violent and unholy passion. Before laying hands on her loved ones and ripping her asunder from within and watching in delight as her pale exterior meekly complied like paper.
And all this while she had been hiding in the Hogwarts Library as the new regime was implemented in place and ludicrous muggle concentration camps around the world started. Watching the ghosts of Hogwarts come alive and dying over and over again. Incapable of seeking eternal rest.
She curls up and cries silently.
They were all but children robbed of everything they didn't have.
Instead of worrying about adolescent affairs like any other average teenager, they were shoved with the burden of killing the world's Darkest Wizard—Harry was the Chosen One, they echoed, and as his friends they both pledged their unwavering loyalty to the righteous mission in a spur of youthful idealism.
It's all for the greater good, everyone reasoned simply.
And we have absolute faith in you, their eyes shined with hope they were too powerless to fulfill.
How naïve they were, the thought is painful.
She wishes she hadn't met them on that train. Perhaps she would have grown up like any normal Muggle girl, with her head in the clouds and reading any book she could have gotten her hands on, graduating from University with a degree and getting married… … have curly haired kids running around in the backyard and then dying in the company of her loved ones…She wishes some alley cat had gotten the darned owl when she was eleven.
Then again getting her acceptance letter from Hogwarts was the best thing which ever happened. She felt important, and special. She knew she was, despite the condescending and annoyed glances flung her way by the cooler and more popular kids back in elementary school. She knew she was.
And she felt wanted for the first time in her life when Harry and Ron agreed to be friends with her. It certainly didn't matter that she felt extra and awkward around them occasionally or tuned out instantly the minute they decided they wanted to talk about Quidditch. They were probably the only people who were willing to be her friends despite her buckteeth and every single flaw she had, and that made her more than willing to join in their important mission that had the future of the entire world on stake.
But now it doesn't matter anymore.
Because Ron is dead. And so is Harry.
And the three legged chair will remain crippled on its single leg, aching forever for the loss of the other two.
Author's Note: This is my first ever fanfiction for my favorite pairing ever. Reviews will be appreciated and comments for the plot (which is still in its developing fetal stages) will be taken into serious consideration. Thank you! (: REVIEW AND I'LL CARRY ON. :D