The Eternal Soul
A R/Hr Fic. Somewhat Dark. May contain Spoilers for HBP in later chapters.
This is the translation of my german FanFic "Die Unendliche Seele". Hope you like it. ;)
Summary:
Death is not always the end... The battle is over , but the sacrifice for their victory is just too big for Harry, and especially for Ron. With the help of a mysterious book, he sets out to discover an age-old secret that could help him bring back what he thought he had lost forever... A story about lost chances and the sacrifices you are willing to make to see a loved one again... R/Hr. Post-Hogwarts.
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me - except this little idea.
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"There is a land of the living and a land of the dead and the bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning. "
-Thornton Wilder -
The battleground looked like what must be a first glimpse of hell.
Debris and dust were the only things that were left from the magnificent shops and buildings that had once occupied Diagon Alley. Wads of dark smoke and heavy fog, breaking through the weak light of dusk that seemed barely visible against the clouds, enwrapped everything in a haze of black and gray.
An unmistakable smell of brimstone, mixed with the stench of almost dried blood and burned flesh, hung in the air.
Lifeless bodies, distorted and disfigured, lay in the damp soil, surrounded by cobblestones that had been ripped out of the ground in the process of the battle by sheer force of evil magic.
Here and there, there were movements; brief flickers of survival and life, struggling to break free, determined not to give up on existance.
A hand, suddenly stirring; moving weakly, the body it belonged to buried under rubble...
A head, with a face bloody and unrecognizable with scars; lifting carefully, almost hesitantingly, with wondrous eyes, only to sink back onto the ground after a moment, eventually defeated...
Many pairs of blank, empty eyes, staring up into the overcast sky, some still bearing the look of muted suprise when faced with their sudden death.
The faded morning sun fell on the shattered glass of destroyed shop windows, making thousands specks of tiny light particles rise into the misty air, a beautiful and terrible sight at the same time.
A hollow, ghostly silence had taken possession of the place that only a few hours ago had been echoing with bloodcurdling screams, shrill voices and the buzzing of randomly thrown hexes and curses, flying through the air, destroying everything they hit.
Chaos and death had come upon every living being in this place, consuming every little fragment of hope, only leaving shadows in its wake.
A noise suddenly interrupted the silence. Sluggish steps, like those of a person having much difficulties keeping themself on their feet, could be heard as a tall, lanky figure was making his way through the hazy, smoke-filled air. He was holding his arm, twisted in a strange angle, while stepping over heaps of rubble and broken, no longer recognizable objects, his exhausted legs trembling with the effort of walking.
"Harry?" he called, his voice suffocated with fear and despair.
A figure was crouching in front of the dirt-covered remains of what seemed to be a pillar from the entrance of the almost completely destroyed Gringotts building. As he stepped closer, he recognized black, unruly hair, that looked almost gray from the dust in which it was covered, and made the small trickle of blood that was dripping onto his torn black robes look a shocking bright red.
He was cowering in front of the pillar, his back turned to him, completely still, like a picture frozen in time.
"Harry?" he said again, and now there was a hint of hope in his voice as he spoke the name of his best friend.
Silence.
"Is that you, Harry?" he asked, now more boldly, his eyes firmly fixed on the back of his head, as if trying to look through it and see his face.
"Yes, Ron." Harry finally said after another long silence.
His voice did not reveal what was raging inside of him.
Ron flinched. He had almost thought that this strange, rigid figure was yet another product of his imagination, concocted in his brain to push away the memories of death and misery he had witnessed in the past few days. Hearing that it was real, that it was Harry he was talking to and not an illusion of his tired mind, he felt relief flow through his body, enveloping him like a warm, comfortable blanket.
But something was wrong with the picture - something was wrong with... Harry.
"Wh - where, where is Voldemort?" he asked. He had stopped calling him "You-know-Who" a long time ago. Auror training had taught him not be afraid of anything, the least of all names. He found it silly now that it had taken him so long to say Voldemort's name out loud in the first place.
Harry still didn't move from his postion on the ground, and just as Ron took another step into his direction, Harry raised his bruised hand and pointed to a heap of ashes and a few smoking rags of clothing, lying on the ground a little farther away from them.
His hand was still clutching his wand, his knuckles standing out in a starkly white colour.
Ron stared at the heap of ashes, noticing that all debris and glass splinters had been blown away in the close vicinity of it, as if there had been a huge impact at this spot. His mind began to grasp the reality of the situation, and he found himself to be speechless for a few moments. Was this really the only remains of the once so much feared and powerful dark wizard that was Voldemort?
When he founds his voice again, he cried, awed and incredulous, " You - you destroyed him?".
Harry said nothing, but Ron did not need his confirmation - he somehow knew that the Dark Lord had been defeated; felt that his sinister presence had vanished from the face of the earth, and he suddenly felt as elated and happy as he hadn't had in a long time.
"You did it, Harry! You destroyed Voldemort!" he half-laughed, half-shouted. Harry remained silent.
But suddenly Ron felt like someone had kicked him into the stomach as he remembered something.
"Harry, where's Hermione?"
Harry did not move from his spot.
Suddenly Ron felt a wave of nausea rush through his body, making his stomach clench even harder.
"Harry, we have to tell Hermione! Where is she?"
There was a terrible silence once again as Harry did not react.
Harry, please... answer me..." he pleaded with a trembling voice.
Ron took another step toward Harry, so that he was now towering above him, looking past his still crouching figure.
And just then, as if the universe had only just now decided to reveal the whole truth to him, the last layer of fog cleared before his eyes.
What he saw, made his heart stop for what seemed like an eternity. He felt the horrible sinking feeling in his stomach, as he looked at the scene in front of him.
There, splayed on the ground, with her head resting against the remains of the pillar and her eyes lifeless and wide open, lay...
Hermione.
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A/N: Weeeeell, what do you think? Good, bad, so-so? Please review and let me know. Even if it's just one line... I really would appreciate honest reviews and constructive criticism. Sorry if there should be any bigger grammar mistakes, I am beta-ing everything myself, since I don't have anybody to do that for me at the moment... Anyways, read and review, people:)