Well, at Least the World's Not Ending
by Devilaire M'shadi
Disclaimer: I do not own HP in any way, shape, or form. I am not getting money in any way, shape, or form. Any gratitude that I do get (often, very scarce and far between) should not piss off any legal system, as it is only gratitude and nothing more.
Summary: He wasn't prepared for the war. He couldn't stop it. It was too much, too soon, too complicated. And the only choice left on Hermione's list was to… uncomplicated things. Brilliant.
Author's Note: I don't quite understand this story, and I'm the one writing it. So if you're confused or critical or whatever my writing inspires in you (which may merely be apathy and thus you won't respond to this note or to this story), please leave a review and I'll get back to you via an author's note… or editing of my story, and then an author's note. Whichever.
Chapter One: The End of the World
The world didn't end in a heartbeat. No demons rose out of hell, and no deity-worshipers were granted freedom to peace. No waters flooded cities, and no meteor froze the earth. Ironically, global warming and the magnetosphere changing had nothing to do with it at all. No, the world didn't end in a heartbeat, nor a week, nor a month, nor a year, nor several. It ended with three words: "I love you." It ended with a curse. It ended with no tears shed, but open sobbing, because that's the way of the world, but it never should have had to have been that way. But it was. That was life. But maybe, just maybe, there was a chance after all.
That was, after all, what the end of the world was about. "Maybe" spawned the darkness, and "maybe" would take it back. Gotta love circumstance and possibility; because for everything wrong… well, you get the point.
Harry Potter stood on top of the only mountain that survived the destruction, not understanding anything. He was just a boy, after all. Just a small, malnourished, weak, scared little boy who didn't understand what was happening. The spell that was supposed to destroy the most evil dark Lord instead destroyed the whole world, or what Harry could see of it. Everywhere was darkness. Nothing existed besides the mountain and him, and he figured that he must be blind; but his empathy did not feel a thing, no one in pain, no one grieving, no one happy or blissful or confused… just him. Him, and his emotions. Him, and his memories. Did anything ever exist if, in the end, it was just him? It was just supposed to be Tom… what had happened to…? No, he didn't understand. But then again, neither did Time nor Fate nor Energy nor any other incorporeal being that had spawned out of nothing to create something. Nothing, nor no one understood what had happened, because there was just a twenty-something boy standing on a mountain… and nothing else. For all anyone knew, the mountain was standing on top of nothing, as well.
It was all abit melodramatic, really.
Especially when he started yelling, "I take it back! I take it all back! I didn't mean for… oh Merlin, oh Merlin, I'm so sorry. Please… I take it back…." And there was truly no one that heard him cry that could do a damn thing. The Powers only existed; they couldn't meddle nor control. They wished they could, but that had never been the way of the world. They took, and they gave. It just happened, no one's will. "I take it back… oh Merlin, oh Hermione, please… Tom, please… someone… anyone… please…"
And a bit anticlimactic.
It seems like there ought to have been more to it. After all, how could one boy destroy…? He couldn't. It was impossible. It was… "Please, Bill, Charlie, Severus, Remus, Ginny… someone, anyone! Please!" It was a pause. If just a boy existed, did Time exist? Did Fate? Did Purpose? Did Sustenance? Did Passion? Did Anything or Everything? It was odd, abnormal, and a bit freakish, truly. Just a boy apologizing for inexistence. A bit funny, too. But if Time didn't exist, then how was anyone thinking any thoughts about this, see? Well, that's because something happened. Another little something that no one could ever (nor would ever have the memory to ever) explain.
The boy went home, and the nothing never not-existed. Or whatever. Political correctness doesn't always make sense.
The point being: this twenty-something year old boy who was weak, hadn't eaten in a few days, hadn't slept properly in a few years, who was only surviving because his magic was sustaining his internal organs… this boy Apparated to the past (though neither Time nor Logic would ever be able to explain why, because Magic was just shrugging at them) (norwould anyone ever try and reason if it was Apparating or Time-Traveling)and appeared in front of his best friend still alive, Hermione Granger.
"Well, that didn't work." The girl jumped, yelping, before her wand was aimed directly at the boy. The boy shrugged and then sat down. "Any other suggestions?"
She lowered her wand arm and put a hand to her chest. "Goodness, Harry! You nearly gave me a heart attack!"
He blushed. "Sorry, I kind of… something." He furrowed his eyebrows and then shrugged. "I think I defied magical logic again." He paused. "Huh." Another pause. "Oh well, so what do we have?"
The girl sighed, folding her arms across her chest. "That depends." A raised eyebrow. "Could you define 'that didn't work' or 'defied magical logic?'"
He scratched his head, blushing slightly. "Do I have any other choice?"
She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth before releasing her energy, once again with a sigh. She pinched her nose with her risen arm and sat down. "Alright, I take it that the spell didn't work, and we'll work from there."
"Thanks, 'Mione." He then groaned, as he had just sat down as well, head on his arms and eyes closed. And damn, he was tired.
She glanced over at his slouched form and couldn't help but smile, slightly, and then stop. "Welcome." She shook her head and pulled out her notes. "Well, the only other choice that we haven't already exhausted—"
"Hey!"
"—is that of… oh dear… well, you see Harry…"
Thunk.
Told you that you gotta love circumstance and possibility.