My Dear Readers,

I am extremely determined to make this story as beautifully and elegantly dark and entrancing as I am able to. It will be a story with adventure, loss, war, friendship, and romance (I am a Dramione fan, so deal with it).

This is primarily based off of the books, though some elements of the movie are incorporated. It begins right after Harry has revealed himself to Voldemort in the Great Hall during the 'final battle.' However, instead of killing the Dark Lord, Voldemort escapes in his weakened state, thus prolonging the war.

Also, in my version, Fred hasn't died. I couldn't bear to leave him.

PLEASE comment, constructive criticism makes me very happy and helps me write faster.

Thank you my lovelies,

Kat

**Disclaimer: All the characters in this fanfiction belong to JK Rowling and the Harry Potter series. I am just borrowing them and playing pretend ;)

Prologue

It came down like snow, pale little flakes flitting about upon the breeze, softly coating the ground beneath their feet. But the wind carried the chilling cold of an early day, and the scent of fire and ash was thick in the air. The salt of blood and tears mixed fluidly upon the ancient, broken stones; flowing freely from the bodies that littered the grounds. Everything was in ruins. Everything had failed. All that remained was bitter grief and suffocating fear. But they were all helpless to do anything, just as forlorn and clueless as when they'd started.

The battle of Hogwarts had not ended well for the side of the Light. The Dark Lord and his followers had devastated the castle and everyone protecting it. Both sides had sustained heavy losses, and everything was coated in layers of dripping scarlet. The cowards and their master had vanished during the final battle when Harry had revealed himself. Once the snake had been killed, its owner had felt the searing pain of his soul being destroyed. He'd become weaker with every horcrux the boy had defeated, and towards the end, his anger and agony had coupled into seething fury. But enraged as he was, Tom Riddle had never been foolish. With the last horcrux gone, and Harry being very much alive, he knew that there was a chance of defeat. And so, he withdrew himself before his inevitable demise. It was a small blessing of relief for the fighters of the Light, but a heavy dread still lingered; Voldemort had survived. Now, though, was not the time to think of such things. Now was time to mourn.

Hermione sat with Ron upon one of the remaining tables, looking despairingly at her friend. Harry still stood motionless in the Great Hall, staring at the place where he had revealed himself to the dark wizard not an hour ago. She could see from his stance and the dull look of his emerald eyes that he blamed himself for not acting soon enough, and she longed to tell him otherwise. They had been so damnably close. But in the end, the Dark Ones had fled with their leader. Tears of anger pricked her eyes as she looked at the broken boy and all of the others who had gathered in the hall. So much pain in so little time had been thrust upon their young shoulders, but they bore it with gritted teeth for the sake of the world. However, this had only been a mere taste of the ash that was to fall…