Written for the Game of Life Competition; for the Disney Character Challenge.
1998
"Parvati, shh, calm down, dear," Poppy Pomfrey is saying to the younger woman. "It'll all be alright. We'll use the restoration draft on your dear Lavender here, we've got it in our storage sheds, it'll be absolutely fine…"
Similar lines are being used across the Great Hall as hundreds of mourners are assured that their friends and family will happily survive; they'll administer to each of the dead the restoration draft, and everyone, spare the Death Eaters, will be brought back to life.
Already the potion has begun to take effect in those it's been applied to. A beautiful couple is reuniting, the man wrapping his arms around the younger woman and whispering, "He's safe, he's safe, it'll all be okay." A family of redheads crowds around the cot on which their apparent relative has lain, watching as he sits up and asks what they're all staring at with a smile on his face. The girl Poppy Pomfrey has been talking to, Parvati Patil, runs gleefully towards her newly-restored friend and envelopes her in a great hug.
Everything will be alright.
1470
Annora Rees is not only ecstatic but also stunned, and when her small son walks in and asks her what's happened that has caused her to sit in silence, staring at her bubbling cauldron, she doesn't even notice his words until several seconds after he's left the house.
She has found a potion that will reverse death.
1456
"Mum! Mum!"
The source of the voice, a young woman in her late teens, joyously sprints across the fields. The curious glances of the serfs don't concern her as she leaps towards her mother, one of those very peasants who are working the fields. Annora, the girl, has been kept secret from the lord of the manor and is not required to work; in short, she is different. She knows it won't matter anymore, though; she's cured it. "Mum!" she calls as she nears her mother. "Mum, I've cured Swan's disease!"
Annora's mother gapes at her. "You aren't joking, are you, Annora?"
"No, I've actually done it!"
"Oh, my dear girl!" she exclaims, lifting her petite daughter in the air and twirling her around, something that has always embarrassed Annora. "You've done it. I'm so proud of you."
1402
"Excuse me, madam," says a woman from behind her, and Eloise turns, searching for the source of the voice. She finds it immediately – a young but wizened beggar. "Coin for the poor, madam?"
"What ails you?" asks Eloise after a moment of translating the Middle English that she has only learned in the last two years.
"Swan's disease," replies the woman impatiently. "Penny for the poor?"
"Oh, but my dear woman, I know the cure!" says Eloise excitedly.
"Truly?!"
"Yes, of course!"
And so she asks for directions to the poor woman's house, and the woman gives them immediately; Eloise does not know if this is simply the culture of 1402 or if this woman is simply incredibly trusting. She strikes up a conversation with the woman, trying to hide her halted Middle English, but the woman does not seem to notice. In fact, she seems to be enjoying herself.
"I'm Nona," says the woman.
"Elwisia," says Eloise, knowing not to give Nona a name that would suggest she would be born hundreds of years in the future.
When the pair of them reach Nona's house, Eloise whips up the potion that she knows so well and hands it to Nona, watching the other woman's face grow smooth and healthy again. "Thank you kindly, dear Elwisia," Nona says happily.
Eloise is content about this decision to cure Nona of Swan's disease until she sees Nona once again, two days later. Nona is standing upon a pedestal, holding out a bottle of Eloise's magical cure of Swan's disease and proclaiming its wonderfulness for all to hear.
The potion to cure Swan's disease was not supposed to be invented for another fifty years.
1457
"Annora, Annora, believe me, everything will be alright," says her mother in a valiant effort to calm her down.
"No it won't," says Annora in her tears. "I'm the most worthless person to ever exist. I've been trying to create things and I've never made anything new."
"Annora, dear…"
The next day, Annora Rees poisons herself.
1998
"I'm so sorry."
Those are the words whispered with painful strain by every person in the hall. Everyone has lost so many; wizards and witches grieve over their family, their friends, their acquaintances, even their rivals.
There is no dry eye in the building. Everyone is dead, and they'll never be coming back.
Nothing will be okay again.