Chapter one: It's not over yet.

I once had a life worth living. I once had a life full of friendship, family and love. I once had a life in general.

But the lord giveth and the lord can taketh away, though it is not god that I speak of.

He is a man, no, he is a monster, and that monster took everything, and everyone that was ever worth living for.

Since the rise of the Dark Lord, all I have ever known is hurt and torture.

I knew it was a mistake for Harry to go into that forest alone, but he wouldn't let me go with him. He wouldn't let us help him anymore.

"It's got to be me," he told us.

Ron and I stood there just staring at him for a moment, until the onslaught of objections flowed from our minds to our mouths.

He was right. It did have to be him. But it didn't have to be only him.

I argued, I cried, I yelled, I screamed and none of it made a difference. He had already made up his mind.

I could have cursed Dumbledore right then and there for putting him in this hell, but my love for the old man stopped me. I didn't even understand why I still held respect for him when he was sending my best friend to sacrifice himself, but I did.

Harry hugged me tightly, one last time. I suppose it was supposed to calm me down, but it only made me angrier. How could this have happened? Why did it have to be him? He didn't ask for it and he sure as hell didn't want it either.

"It's up to you now," he whispered to me softly "Hit him a good few times for me 'Mione."

My tears continued as I watched him embrace Ron for the last time as well. They were brothers, even if their blood was different, they were brothers, just as it should have been, but that only made it harder to let Harry go.

We waited for all of half an hour before his cold, cruel voice shattered our ear drums once more, and I knew it was over. For the first time in my life, I felt the cold sting of defeat pierce my soul, and it hurt more than anything else.

As Hagrid carried his hollow corpse out into the grounds, all I remember is feeling numb. I couldn't see, I couldn't hear, I couldn't think, I couldn't feel. All I knew was that it was over. The Dark Lord had won.

That blank stare in Harry's eyes, where life had been dancing with glee only minutes before, would stay with me for the rest of my life.

Voldemort burned his body to the ground that very night. He made an example of him to the rest of us who would dare resist his new reign. There was nothing left but cinders and ashes when he was done. I couldn't help but wonder whether his mother had ever told him not to play with his food, but then I remembered that he never had one. The wind carried Harry into the night and scattered him across the home and castle he loved so much. The wind carried him to me too. It danced around me, speaking to me, telling me that he was in a better place, and I knew then, that he was with his parents.

I knew then that this wasn't some horrible nightmare that I would wake up from at any moment. Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, The Chosen One, My best friend, was gone.

Gone, dead and silent forever more.

I remember a pair of hands pulling at me as reality crashed into me, but I didn't want to move. The hands then picked me up and carried me away, to keep me safe from the murderer of my best friend.

Ron carried me to the Headmaster's office, though I didn't know it at the time. He pulled me onto the spiral stair case and held me as his own tears fell for the loss of our honorary brother.

He knew we didn't have much time, we both did. Soon, Voldemort and his cronies would be searching the castle for us.

Harry Potter's best friends and the last feeble threat to his immortality.

Ron placed me in one of the chairs in front of the desk that had once been Albus Dumbledore's, and he began to converse with the old man himself.

"What do we do?" he asked him with tear filled eyes "Harry's gone, what do we do next?"

But all Dumbledore did was stare at him with saddened eyes. They had lost their signature twinkle for the first time in their very long life.

"You run," he told them "There is nothing more you can do here."

"What do you mean 'run'?" Ron asked angrily.

It was then that I heard it. A bang at the end of the hall. They were coming for us.

"Get out of the country you stupid boy!" Snape told him, his portrait having magically appeared out of nowhere "Run, go abroad and take Granger with you!"

There was another bang, though this time it was closer. Soon they would be running up the stairs, and they would apprehend us.

Suddenly, my brain began to work again.

"Harry wouldn't have run," I told them quietly "He would have stayed until the bitter end."

"And that is what got him killed," Phineus Nigellus jumps in, "Be smart. You will do no one any good when you are dead."

Ron looked deep in thought as I heard another bang, now almost at the staircase.

"Alright," he said as he turned to me.

He stood me up from the chair and placed a small pouch in my hand. It was Harry's, the one Hagrid had given him for his seventeenth birthday. I looked at him, confused beyond reason and he spoke to me softly then.

"You'll be able to wait," he told me "You've always been smarter than me and Harry. We wouldn't have gotten this far with out you. You'll plan and wait for the right moment. I'll stuff it up somehow. Take this too," he handed me his wand, "I don't stand a chance and I'd rather you have it than them."

I knew then what he had planned.

"No," I whispered as tears filled my eyes again "I can't lose you too, not tonight."

"You can do it," he said as tears filled his own eyes once more "I know you can."

I didn't know it, but I was letting him guide me into a nearby fire place.

"Ron," I whisper "No."

"It's up to you now," he told me, just before his lips crushed to mine for the very last time, "It was you I wanted. Always you."

It was then that I lost all resolve. My arms flew around him as I willed them to never let go. I cried for what seemed like hours, but was really only minutes, never wanting to leave him, but another bang, this time on the staircase, forced him to throw me into the fire place.

Death Eaters emerged through the door, just as Ron threw the floo powder into the grate and and said "THE BURROW!"

In a whirl of green flame I saw them take him and attempt to catch me, but it was too late.

I stood motionless in the new fire place for the longest time, willing this nightmare to end, but it never did. Only when I felt danger soar through my veins did I remember where I had come from, and who I had left behind.

With my best friend's most treasured possessions, and my boyfriend's wand in my hands, I fled my home away from home. I ran and I ran until I could run no more, and when I stopped, my pain caught up with me.

We had such little time together. Our stubborn pride and stupid sense of embarrassment got in the way of us being together, and when we finally did get our wish, it was taken away in one foul swoop, it was destroyed by one measly wave of a wand. The pain willed me to let it take over, but I couldn't let it win, not yet.

I aparated back to the Forest of Dean, set up the tent and put up my wards and silencing charms. It was then and only then, that I did what my mind, body and soul cried out for since the very beginning.

I screamed.

I poured out my grief through the roar of my voice. For Fred, for Remus, for Tonks, for Moody, for Dobby, for Colin...For Harry and Ron.

I screamed and I cried. I destroyed every object in my path until there was nothing left but me. I took out my wand in my haste, forgetting what Ron and Harry had said to me. I aimed it at my chest, willing for those two words to leave my lips for the first and last time. I tried so hard to let it happen, but I couldn't. The will to live still flowed through my veins, though I didn't know how or why.

I had lost everything, yet I still wanted to go on. I asked myself why over and over and over again, but the answer never came, until their words came crashing down upon me once again.

It's up to you now.

I was the only one left. The only one who knew of the Horcruxs. The only one who knew Tom Riddle's weaknesses and lies. If I died today, there would be no hope left for anyone. Voldemort would not stop until he had the world under his control.

I knew it, and so did he.

That was when anger took over my mind and I screamed once again, though this time it was frustration that caused the outburst. How could they leave me with this impossible task? How could they leave me with this burden on my shoulders? How could they leave me to carry it on my own?

I threw the wand and the pouch across the room and heard it collide with the table on the other side.

I realised then that there was only one thing for it. They had left me no choice.

It had to be me.

I looked at the fallen objects I had carelessly thrown and I sighed as more tears reach my eyes.

I couldn't stay mad at them. They loved me so much, they wouldn't have done this intentionally. They wouldn't have left me unless they had to. And they did, they really did have to.

I walked over to the wand and pouch and pick them up.

Suddenly, there was a small 'crack' within my tent and I came to gaze upon a face I thought I would never see again.


The years passed by and the wizarding world slowly descended into chaos. As it was predicted, Voldemort did not stop at England, he moved further.

In two years, he had the continent of Europe; In three, he had the entire Northern Hemisphere, but the resistance of the south put up a good fight. It took him another seven to conquer them.

In only ten years, Voldemort had the entire world under his control. He had the pure-blood society that he had always dreamed of, all manor of witches and wizards cowered before his feet.

He had everything he had ever wanted right before him.

The stupid Boy-Who-Lived-To-Become-A-Neusence had tried and failed to take away his immortality, for Nagini was still at his side, hissing soft songs of praise for her master. He had tried and failed to destroy a man that was far greater than himself. He had tried and failed to save his friends from the wrath of Lord Voldemort, and Lord Voldemort cherished every scream the boy made when under his spell.

Weasley had been apprehended minutes after Potter himself had fallen. The boy had strength, he had to admit that. It had taken Weasley days to crack under constant torture. If he had not been so much of a bloody Gryffindork, Voldemort may have been able to use him in his inner circle, but he was Potter's man through and through.

Granger had been found dead in a ditch somewhere a month after the final battle. Her skin almost ripped to shreds by some mannor of claws and teeth. Her blood sprayed from half a mile down the road to where she finally layed to rest. Voldemort was pleased that she was out of the way, but he was less than happy that he had not been able to do it himself.

He crucioed every werewolf in his path that day for their insolence.

He had been surprised that she lasted as long as she did, evading his detection with every spell known to wizard kind. She was certainly clever. He had known that she was the brains of the trio, and he knew that the other two would have done what ever necessary to protect her from him.

Too bad they tried and failed.

He was sitting in the Headmaster' office of his favorite school. It had changed a lot since Severus and Dumbledore had been in charge. It no longer had the funny glow of invite or the bitter taste of happiness. In fact the entire castle had lost it's life that day in the final battle, along with the Boy-Who-Lived-And-Finaly-Died.

"So what do you think My Lord?" Avery asked.

He had replaced Severus as Headmaster, the moment that Hogwarts had fallen. The current teachers were less than happy about it, but they knew better than to take a stand after the show he put on concerning Potter's body.

"Do it," he said "She is becoming more and more restless and I would not put it past her to try something when she already knows that she is dying. The mannor in which she goes does not concern her. Once you do, Malfoy will take her place. Aside from myself, he has to be the best candidate for the job, and I have neither the time or patience to deal with childen."

It was true. In the short amount of time that he had been in the castle that day, he had tortured at least three third years and one first year for crossing his path and balling their eyes out at the sight of him, pleading with him not to kill them. It sickened him to hear them cry, so he tortured them until they stopped.

"She is not so close to death as of yet," Avery continued "Perhaps we should wait until-"

"No," he cut him off "She needs to go before she does something rash. The time for execution has long since been over Avery. The time for containment has come."

At those last words, an owl flew to the window of the Headmaster's office and tapped it dutifully, determined to deliver it's package for his master.

Avery stood from his seat and marched to where the owl was perched. He opened the window and took the package from the bird.

It was a small little black box, but it was not addressed to the headmaster.

"My Lord," Avery said, not looking at him "It's for you."

The Dark Lord looked up at his servant and walked over to where he stood. He placed a hand on the package to detect any and all curses placed upon it, but there were none.

He took the box from Avery's hands and placed it upon the desk in front of him. He placed a series of enchantments on the box, just to be safe, just as another owl swooped in through the window of the Headmaster's office.

This one contained a letter, also addressed to the Dark Lord.

Voldemort decided that it would be more prudent to open the letter before the box, seeing as now he knew that there were no curses or feeble attempts to harm him placed on either.

Dearest Tom

He sneered at the use of his muggle name and continued. Something was not right about this.

It has been a long time since I have layed eyes on you, though I expect you are just as much of a monster inside and out as you ever were.

I just thought that it was only fair to warn you that, I know who and what you really are. Harry Potter wasn't the only one who knew your secrets.

Be on your guard.

Sincerely

The Girl That Got Away

Voldemort read the last line of the letter over and over again until he was convinced that he was not seeing things.

No girl had ever gotten away. What is this?

He noticed a post script at the bottom of the page.

P.S I thought you might like to have this. I no longer need it to remind myself that this war is not yet over.

Voldemort looked closely at the tiny box. He realised then that he was meant to open it last. He cast it a dark look before he allowed his fingers to pull the lid upwards.

Inside, were what was left of Hufflepuff's cup. He simply stared at it in shock for a few moments, but then he roared in rage and tipped the desk over, shattering the cup into even smaller pieces than it was in.

Avery cowered in fear behind a pillar, not wishing to be his master's punching bag.

Who could possibly have known about it? Who could possibly still be alive that knew his secrets? He had worked too hard to have it all shattered by some wretched witch with a death wish!

"M-master?" the Headmaster asked feebly "What has happened?"

Voldemort turned on him, his face murderous with rage, but he soon calmed down, realising what he was doing.

"Nothing."