As it turns out, they were all wrong, and the world will end in butterflies.
It was almost calming, something like a lullaby, every colour a death, every wing a soul.It had gone so well, for so long. Magic and technology fused in incredible ways, advancing the world beyond all recognition.
War was a thing of the past, horror stories told to children who would never experience want, hunger or pain.
And yet, those who had lived through that final, terrible conflict bore their scars, driven beyond all reason. Driven by loss, grief and anguish, there were those who did not rest, could not rest, until they achieved all they could achieve.
Lurid reds and yellows tessellate with dazzling turquoise, the seething bright wings of millions soaring and falling and soaring again.
His intuitive grasp of magics, both new and arcane, had found the most perfect mate in her research, her technology, her ability to fuse and twist what was, into what could be. They had changed the world, driven Darkness out by shining a light so bright it blinded those around. They were seen as gods, as saviours, more powerful than anything the planet had ever experienced before. They were unassailable, unquestionable, unfathomable.
It had been their downfall.
A day that is not a day, but boundless smaller days, a day where points become planes and all the finite moments stretch into paper thin filaments of time. And now you know, you know that this is how it always was, how it will be forever. If only your time had come sooner.
He should have known. He should have listened. But he never did. He had trusted her beyond all others, and now they were the only ones left.
Every person, every soul, was gone. A million different wings, a fluttering, heaving mass of billions, was all there was left of the once incredible world.
Their life's work, their crowning achievement, their final triumph over evil. How could they not have foreseen this?
I tilt my head to the sky, and see through blurry eyes; a myriad of hues, the colours of a rainbow.
He turned, and embraced the one who had always loved him, whom he had always loved. There were no words, for Hermione and Harry knew each other more than they knew themselves.
They lifted their arms, and stepped into the soft and beautiful, yet deadly, touch of the butterflies.
And in that second was a kaleidoscope, new light erupting onto their faces, and they knew all the colours.