AN: When I say Harry is not fond of Fate, I'm not entirely wrong.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, no one but, perhaps, the circumstances that happens in this story.
His world ended.
The great Earth devouring itself into nothingness and no matter what pleading and begging the creatures of the Earth were to be no more.
And then they weren't.
Not even a speckle or mote was left.
Well, not only that.
The Earth wasn't the only thing that ceased to be.
The entire bits of reality and their known universe crumbled along with it.
No living being was spared.
Surprisingly, it wasn't really anyone's fault.
The fact of the matter was that: reality simply reached its expiry date.
He… had nothing more of his beginning.
Harry frowned. Admittedly it has been a while since he visited his Earth.
None can blame him though, there was no one left he could visit. He's buried his family and friends. Some of his allies too, from when Hermione decided it was time for them to put their foot down and twist the Ministry's ears like the unruly child it acted as.
Once he had a taste of travel, he was consumed by a kind of wanderlust which made it hard for him to help his friends with their cause. But, they were very understanding and well, they all still had personal lives so really storming the Ministry was just their side project. But then Time had crept up to them and had no qualms smashing Age over them (meanwhile, they refuse to touch him whatsoever).
He still comes back from time to time to visit and care for the graves.
But this death…
This wide and encompassing death…
He was in a mockery of an embrace, none of his limbs would listen, and on his knees, he saw it all.
Fate is more than willing to clamp its cold and bony hands on his jaw and physically twist and force him to watch as the world that gave birth to his all and sorrows shatter itself.
It was deafening.
It was beautiful as it was heartbreaking.
Nonetheless, the death of what he once knew was… staggering.
It was… it hurt. He was crying and it astonished him. Slowly mobility seeped back to his limbs, he let his hand feel the slow, steady, fat dribbles of tears slipping down his cheeks and frowned.
The grip of Fate had on his jaw had yet to lessen, he could feel the sharp bite of its claws digging into the flesh of his poor jaw. The promise of something painful to happen were what those sharp pinpricks meant.
He frowned some more.
He didn't like it, the vile thing. The audacity of it. The arrogance, thinking it can always make him do as it pleased.
His patience was thinning.
Ever so slowly, he forced his hand up and clamped down on the offending appendage that dared touch him.
His world has ended.
It went out roaring. Its final tantrum as it fell apart, mixing the sounds of ground crumbling, buildings crashing and all sorts of living beings gave it latest struggle. Crying out in rage, fear and despair. In indignity.
And amidst the last symphonic roar of what was once his world, an additional scream, high and just do grating, joined in before falling flat, failing when the rest of the deathly performance was only reaching its peak.
"….Harry."
"…"
"I thought you were too old for this?"
"…"
"Please do not ignore me."
"…"
"Please do not look at me like that."
"…"
"…"
"…"
"…"
"…"
"…fine. I never can stay mad at you. But please? No more frowning."
"…"
AN: Just a short prologue as I try and get the rest of the story down. Technically, this little thing is a rewrite of a previous story/chapter I posted. It has more plot now, which is why it's so difficult to write down because dialogues are not my forte, but this requires a lot of speaking not just some sort of introspection I usually do, so for now enjoy.
AN: Is this connected to 'It's a Relative Thing'? In a way, it is. Not exactly a prequel. More of something that happened before it.