Okay, in this Dumbledore isn't dead, Snape is still teaching at Hogwarts, and… um… yeah, that's it.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter!
There was fire everywhere. My heart was racing. People were attacking one another with curses. There were screams and explosions all over the place. Tears were streaming down my face. I was running and dodging everything that was coming my way. I was calling for my parents. I needed to find them. I was scared. I tried to jump over a dead body but tripped over it and fell into a pool of blood. I looked at who it was I had tripped over and screamed.
It was my mother.
"Mummy! Mummy wake up!" I yelped as I shook her, trying to make her come back to life.
It was useless. She was dead. Her flaming red hair looked even redder because of the blood. Her blood was all over me. I was covered head to toe with all of the sticky stuff. Her usually sparkling blue eyes were glazed over. Lifeless. More silent tears streamed down my face. As much as I didn't want to leave her I knew I had to find my father.
I got to my feet and ran away from my poor, dead mother. I couldn't find my father anywhere. I saw my Uncle Bill fighting a death eater, and he looked whipped out. He could barely block any of the attacks. I looked away as I saw the blinding green light come out of the death eater's wand, not wanting to see the result.
I was just loosing hope of ever finding my father when I saw him, battling the scariest man I had ever seen. Voldemort. He looked like a snake, with only slits for a nose, beady red eyes, and pail skin. He was too horrible to describe, and I couldn't see how my father could stand fighting him, much less looking at him. I called out to my father and he glanced over anxiously, and then looked back at Voldemort, who was now looking at me, his evil eyes locked on mine.
"Don't you touch her." My father snapped, his fingers clutching her wand so hard his knuckles were white.
An evil smirk spread over Voldemort's lips as he raised his wand and pointed it at me before yelling the killing curse. My father yelled out, jumping in front of me before the curse could hit me, and instead it hit him. He fell to the ground, almost dead, and looked at me.
"Be brave, Maxine." He said before looking at Voldemort and with the last of his power shouted the killing curse, which caught Voldemort off guard, hitting him square in the chest he froze, then fell down. Dead.
I looked back down at my father and gasped when I saw that his eyes were now glazed over. I balled openly, letting the tears fall onto his frozen face. He had died saving me, and I knew I would always blame myself for his death, because if I hadn't called out to him Voldemort's killing curse that was meant for me wouldn't have hit him. I cried into him until I felt somebody pull me away from him. I started to scream, trying to break away. I couldn't leave him, I just couldn't. An officer from the ministry drug me away, kicking and screaming.
My whole family is dead, my mother, my father, my aunts and uncles, my grandparents, my cousins, everyone. I'm going to funeral after funeral, and every single one a new set of tears come. The funeral that hurt me the most, however, is my father's, because I know he would still be alive if it hadn't been for me. The last thing I see of him is he is in a coffin wearing his good dress robes with his hair combed neatly, covering his lightning built scar, and his arms are crossed, holding his wand with his fingers. I can't help but think how wrong they had made him. He never wore his good dress robes unless he was going to a wedding, not even to church, and his hair was always in a constant mess, showing of his lightning built scar perfectly, and he never held his wand with just his fingers, it was always in his fist.
He wasn't my father anymore; he was some kind of clone. I kept thinking that he was just playing a game, trying to see how I'd react if he died, and that any minute he would come out from behind a bush and hold his arms out for me, and I would run to him and hug him with all my strength, and he'd tell me how strong I was, like he always did. Then he'd bring me home and read to me before tucking me into bed and kissing me goodnight. But he never came out from behind a bush, never held out his arms for me to hug, never told me how strong I was, and never read to me before tucking me in, and never kissed me goodnight.
I didn't have my mother either. The one who I always made cookies with, and brought me to Diagon Alley to buy things from Wesley's Wheezing Weasels. Who always comforted me when I was scared or sad, and always reassured me that Daddy would come home if he was late, even if she herself was worried. She was wonderful, both my parents were, and yet they had been snatched away from me. I remembered something Daddy had told me when my puppy got killed. "Only the good die young," he had said. Both he and Mummy were good, so was that why they died? Why hadn't I died then? Was I bad?
About a month after the war, when all the funerals were over, an officer in the ministry brought me to a wizard orphanage. It was filled with children, but none of them had been in the middle of the war. Some had lived in their all their lives, others had just recently come because their parents died in the war, but they had been hiding when the battle had been going on. I was the only one who had seen everything. The only one who had been bloody with a mother's blood, and the only one to see people die before my very eyes.
I didn't tell anybody that I was Harry Potter's daughter, and I requested that none of the adults tell anybody either. I didn't think I'd be able to handle people talking about him yet, asking what he had been like. I wouldn't be able to handle people talking about him in past tense, because it still didn't seem real to me.
But just because I didn't tell anybody that he was my father didn't help me escape talking about him. Everyone in the orphanage was talking about how he had died. Some were happy, others were sad, and some were even confused. "How did he and You-Know-Who both die?" they asked sometimes, and even though I knew the answer I couldn't tell them. I just couldn't.