Disclaimer: All characters and items of the magical world belong to the talented Mrs. J. K. Rowling

I only own parts of the plot of the story

Title: Harry Potter and the Apocalypse

Author: stormyabyss

Rating: T

Genre: Romance/Adventure/Action

Setting: Post-Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

Summary: Harry Potter travels to the ends of the world to finally fulfill his destiny. Along his journey, he breaks and makes new relationships as his feelings for Hermione deepen.

A/N: This is a romance fanfic, but there is also a lot of action and adventure included. I warn you now, if you don't like the whole Hermione and Harry pairing, then don't even bother reading. I don't want to be flamed. Enjoy.

Constructive criticism is always welcomed.


Chapter I: The Scene before Them

"Life is the art of being well deceived; and in order that the deception may succeed it must be habitual and uninterrupted. "
-William Hazlitt


A haunted breeze swept by, ruffling the withering leaves nearby. Streetlights flicked intermittently on and off, attracting a swarm of miniscule mosquitoes and fireflies. Besides the soft hooting of the night birds, the night seemed dead itself. Only a slight sliver of light escaped from a lamppost near the end of the street, but its resilience was quickly squashed by shadows emerging from the ragged bushes.

"I know it's here. I can feel it," a hoarse voice quaked through the gaps of the hood. "We have to be careful. If anything, I will feel much better if you two stay here while I go inside and search for any clues." This stranger muttered further sounds, although they sounded like gibberish.

"Harry, if you ever suggest that again, I will hex you into next week…" murmured a dangerously tense, feminine voice.

"Ya mate, you can't get away from us that easily. Like Hermione said, she'll hex you into next week if you have those thoughts ever again," whispered a rough voice.

Harry glared under his hood, just about ready to whirl on his friends for being so insistent. Right then, a low, yet distinct crack echoed across the road as the darkness opened to reveal two figures. They were both equally clad in dark robes; one figure had a curvy hunchback, while the other stood in such a manner that would convey nothing but arrogance.

The shorter of the two broke out in a whimper, "Why are we here? I don't want any aurors on our tails."

"Shut up or I will make sure you won't have a tail for the aurors to follow," hissed the tall, shrouded figure. "If you even think of running away, which of course I doubt you're competent enough to, I will make sure the dark lord saves you a few curses."

"I…," the puny figure spluttered pathetically, "but…I…," the figure spilt a string of incoherent whimpers, "of course I wouldn't run away. Severus, I am the dark lord's most loyal servant."

Severus, the companion, jeered at the latter comment, "Wormtail, you're as pathetic as you look. The day you become the dark lord's most loyal servant will be the day all his other servants have been killed. And even then, I doubt you will still be alive. Even if you're as dense as Potter, you should still know that master has only kept you so he can dispose of your pitiable life later."

Wormtail shrunk significantly at this comment, but to Harry, it seemed hardly possible for the man's back was already so hunched. Harry crouched further into the shadows of the bushes, which in turn pushed Ron slightly towards the left. He deftly maneuvered his head towards one side to obtain a better view of the scene before him.

"Mate…I don't think it's such a good idea to…" Ron was cut off with a swift glare from the corner of Harry's eyes.

"Shush, Ron. I want to hear what they're saying," muttered a near to inaudible Harry.

Harry craned his head slightly upwards, gaining better access in his espionage. He could see Wormtail crouching over something on the ground, while Snape was holding his wand over the place Wormtail was looking at. Snape lowered his wand a bit as he dug his hands into the pockets of his robes, pulling out two small vials with a glutinous, foul-looking liquid. He thrust one of the vials into Wormtail's outstretched hands and he kept the other to himself.

"Now, remember what you are supposed to do. We will pose as two stray wizards who just happened to stumble upon the ruins of the cottage while searching for news on the Potter kid. The Knight bus will come and we'll continue from there. Must I remind you that if you so much as slip a word of our true identities to anyone, I will murder you on the spot."

"I won't Severus…I won't, I promise."

"Your promise is as empty as your life. Now drink that potion so we can start."

Wormtail uncorked his vial and with slight repugnance and fear, he finally downed its contents after a menacing look from Snape.

As the contents of the potion traveled down and took its effect, Wormtail fell violently to the ground, holding his stomach and gasping for breath as if his life depended on it. His face turned a sickeningly livid, white hue as his back arched violently backwards. The wispy, gray hairs on his head stood slowly upwards as his body started to contort in ghastly gruesome proportions. The black robe clinging to his skin violently ripped as his back became straighter and straighter. His chubby legs grew thinner and the plump figure he was before had completely vanished, only to be replaced by a middle-aged male. Instead of the watery eyes that fit the old Wormtail, this new male had beads of hawk-like yellow embedded in his gaunt features.

"You look as absolutely ridiculous as you were before. Although I am grateful for being spared the urge to gag every time I am forced to look at you, even if it's only temporary. Now, we will start after I take the potion too."

With that, Snape unsealed his vial and after flashing a narcissistic smirk, he poured the content of the vial into his opened mouth. As the potion slithered its way down his throat, Snape drew his face into an inscrutable expression of pain and resistance. His black hair, even greasier than usual, shortened slightly into little brown spikes on his head while his extremities grew even lengthier. The crooked nose attached to his face now stood up straighter as his beady, black eyes turned into specks of pale vulture-like yellow. The robe that covered his body slowly expanded as Snape grew in length and width. Only minutes afterwards, on the very spot that Severus Snape had positioned himself, there stood a tall, and equally smug man of great proportion.

Snape turned and reflected his new appearance, indulging it with his vulture eyes. "I must say, the pathetic wizard I stole the piece of hair from doesn't compare to my old self at all. Still, I look centuries better than you, Wormtail."

"Let's start now. I don't want to be on this street any longer."

"Dear, dear…Wormtail, are you afraid of this street, or are you really afraid of the memories it holds? Do you think the ghosts of late Potter and his mudblood of a wife will come back to avenge themselves? I do not think they would waste their time coming back to kill you, even if you did betray their trivial friendship. As you well know, your once living friend, James Potter, was nothing more than empty trash. I am surprised that even his overly-inflated head stood properly on his neck. Only you would associate yourself with dirty bloods in the likes of Potter and his mudblood-loving clan. To say the least, I will be amazed if Potter's son does not run off with that bucktooth mudblood."

"Hermione Granger, you mean."

"Be it who it is. I could care less if it were some muggle tramp. Now quiet down so we can begin."

Upon hearing this, Harry's already simmering blood practically burst his head open and he was about to jump forth from the bush just to wipe that stupid grin off of Snape's face. He absolutely despised Snape for insulting his parents like that, but it was the last straw for him when that egotistic bloke called Hermione a mudblood.

"How dare he…" venom laced every single one of Harry's syllables.

"No, Harry. Don't blow our cover. You know he's not worth it." Hermione tried to soothe his hot temper by whispering softly in his ears, all the while rubbing his arms slightly. Ever since Dumbledore's death, Harry's temper had been flaring even with the slightest provocation. No one dared to approach him without a viable cause unless they were willing to risk their well-being.

Harry shivered under Hermione's touch, even if it was but a slight rub. He could still feel her hot breath stinging his ears, making even his insides shiver with a burning emotion—whatever it was, he had not the slightest idea. What am I doing? What is she doing? He panicked to himself.

He recalled that since Dumbledore's death, he had been growing distant from everyone. He neither talked nor looked at anyone in the slightest, not even Ginny. Ginny…he thought…he did miss her, but then he didn't. What is happening here? Ron would often mention how Ginny had been missing him a lot, but Harry neither listened nor cared in the least bit. Why…?

No one dared annoy him over the summer, but there was a particular someone who didn't fit into this category of "no one." Hermione Granger. Hermione Granger. Hermione Granger. She was the only person who dared approach him at all this summer; even Ron with his oblivious nature knew to leave Harry alone. At the beginning of summer, Hermione would sometimes walk up to him and attempt to make conversation. She even tried to hug him…anyways, to say the least, he pushed her away and once, he even told her to sod off.

Harry tried to focus on the mission before him, but neither his mental willingness nor his attempts to pinch himself to reality surpassed. "Bloody…"

His rude comments and cold demeanor were to no avail as they only made her more persistent. In the end, either out of annoyance or other obscure reasons even he didn't know, Harry finally didn't mind having her around to talk with. They would often just sit around, lounging on the edge of grassy meadows behind the Burrow, or they would sit across from each other in the woods, covered under the veils of the trees surrounding them.

Once, when they were sprawled on the grass of the fields behind the Burrow, Hermione stirred and turned towards him with a burning look—a look of victory almost. Harry recalled how she sat up and stared off awhile before turning back to him. He could remember that day as if it were in front of him…