Shattered
BEGIN A/N: I know I should be working on "An Early Snow", but I couldn't help myself! Yes, very depressing. I wanted to write something that would really get to people's hearts. I know this is kinda short, but I had to stop writing. It was really hurting me, emotionally. Please read. This is from a main character's POV, and I'm sorry, if you don't figure out who it is by the end of the story, you have a weird problem. ^_^ Wait, this is sad! >_< Never mind. Right then. I seriously did not think that this fic would turn out so -- dramatic! And I seriously did not know I could write this well, but that may be just a matter of opinion . . . And I seriously think I should stop repeating words over and over in consecutive sentences . . .
END A/N.
No one was ever quite the same again. Not after it happened. And no one was quite sure why. It had been so sudden. Nobody suspected that he would do it. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, that is. Not one person guessed that Hogwarts would be attacked. Not then. Not ever.
It all happened so quickly. The castle was bustling with activity, same as always. Students learning, teachers teaching, same as always. Spells cast, potions mixed, books read, same as always. But the normality was soon shattered. Broken like a mirror by a gun. Burst on the seams. Torn apart like paper. Never to return again.
Not even the sun heard the Dark Army coming. At first they were not there. And suddenly they were. They were, and that's what was unlucky to begin with. Just being. Existing in the universe. Dwelling within the totality. The cosmos. Being. To be. And when an evil person exists, it throws everything out of whack. Much less 1000 evil persons.
The Army was strong. Super-strong. Their spells shook the school. They managed to enter the aged fortress. Shooting spells everywhere, killing every person in sight. They ravaged the castle, destroying it. This attack was so unexpected. Hundreds of unfortunate people died. No one really had a chance. The survivors had luck, and only luck, on their side.
After a while, the army left. No one knows why, or how, but they departed. Leaving Hogwarts in ruins. After a millennium of being, it wasn't. And neither were the hundreds of people who lay, perished, among the rubble. The remaining wept. Cried for the young lives lost. Cried for the good souls who deserved a chance. Cried for their friends, their professors, their world. And while they cried, the world cried too. For everything in the universe is connected. Great sorrow always leaves great scars.
It took a while for the Ministry to get everything sorted out. At the beginning of the year, Hogwarts housed 1037 beings. 196 survived. The lucky included Professor Minerva McGonagall, who quickly escaped in the body of a cat after the first explosion. Included Rubeus Hagrid, who was positioned in the safe shelter of his home while Hogwarts was being destroyed. Included all students who were studying Herbology at the time in the greenhouses. Included me. Yes, I was in that tragic accident. But I think I would rather have died that to have seen that terrible event.
A vast majority of the Hogwarts population was not so fortunate; or should it be that they were? The spirits lost were mourned for. The world grieved for Albus Dumbledore, distinguished headmaster of Hogwarts. For Ronald Weasley, a frolicsome 14 year old boy, and one of my closest friends. For the whole houses of Hufflepuff and Slytherin. And for my best friend, whom I will never forget. Whom the entire earth will never forget.
Until someone restrains You-Know-Who, he cannot, will not, be stopped. He will continue to destroy lives, dreams, hopes, wishes, desires, and love. Every day I pray that somebody will decide to take charge -- to risk his own life for the benefit of millions of others. My prayers have not been answered yet. I hear of more catastrophes: Beauxbaton's Academy of Magic . . . St. Josephines's School for American Witches . . . Gedelva Ministry Prepatory School . . . and countless others. Will the evil ever be defeated?. Will the numerous victims of the attacks ever be avenged? Will someone . . . someday ever take a stand?
Perhaps it's a boy.
Perhaps it's a girl.
Perhaps it's you.
But until then, we can only sit and watch, as our realm crumbles away like dust. My life will never be the same. All those people lost and nothing to stop the dark forces from killing more . . . and oh, Harry, I miss you so.
How did you like it? Too depressing? Too weird? Too short? Tell me, please!