AN: twas a while :) my HKWYA submission that didn't get anywhere so I'm posting it here under miscellaneous bc it really wasn't that bad I think
She opened her eyes, and stared up at the no-longer-blue sky. Since the second world war, she had trouble discerning fantasy from reality. If she rolls over, she'd see a city of white marble in the faraway distance. She cannot stop herself from glaring with hate at the mocking city they called 'The truly new, New York'.
Not that it was ever called New York before.
The city of lights and sounds and hopes and dreams were long gone now.
The only reason she was alive was because she was a bit too prominent in campaigning against them.
Sometimes, the wind would whisper to her, tell her of better times. It kept her going; kept her sane. For a day, the rivers in the city ran red with blood until they burned everything to the ground. Too bad she was there to witness it.
It was a miracle she wasn't mad - or is she?
When people passed by her - in the rare occasion that she'd come to the city, of course - they would smirk, and the whispers of disrelish followed her around like a dog on a leash. If they were brave, they'd yell out insults.
People never assaulted her, but their words were enough to make her turn back.
He opened his eyes, and saw flashes of red and orange. He sat up and batted them away. His examined his surroundings and saw rolling hills, and a dirty grey sky.
In the distance was a majestic city of marble. To the right was an area of charred-black trees, that went on out beyond the horizon.
He looked down at the grey. There was a hole from where he scooped the ash, and a charred black object was poking out. The powder was loose, so he dug it up and blew away the grey.
There were two holes on top and a big one on the bottom.
He recognized it immediately.
He dropped it and closed his eyes as a wave of nausea overcame him, and he started heaving what was left in his stomach, which was nothing.
She goes through her morning routine, and walks over to a small river with pellucid water, sheltered by black trees. It's right next to her right next to the warehouse she lives in. She eats and drinks off it, so she runs to her dwelling for a bucket, and fills it to the brim. All the other streams and rivers were burned away. But not this one.
She still remembers the stream through her eyes of childhood.
It was fuller, back then.
It was also very polluted, so she considers it better off after the war. It healed itself, something that she was amused by. The name was the pearl river delta, though she now calls it the river of hope. It was famous before, and the fact that it stands after the war is hope.
It provides comfort that even they, cannot take away the river. The river was burned too, like everything else, and the result was that it had taken away most of the water.
Most of the wildlife is gone, but this river is special.
Wind blew across the plain, and ashes swirled around, like a disturbing version of snow.
A searing pain rippled through his head, much like being slapped by a brick, and he collapsed into a fetal position. Snow? Ash? How did he know that?
He stayed as still as he could, poised for another memory to strike him.
It never happened.
She nudged open a big plank of metal that served as a door.
The musty interior of the warehouse was dark, but the power still ran, so one single lightbulb lit up the small room she called her home. Most of the warehouse had caved in, so almost all of the space had been taken up by sheets of rusted metal, with a fine layer of ash on top. The only small pocket of space left was inhabited by her, and on top was a piece of metal sheet hanging precariously over the edge of the mess that was the warehouse.
She had scavenged what was left of the products, and so a corner of the space was occupied by an ash covered bed and a tree trunk that she had cut down with her daggers, which served as a table for her and her defence weapons.
She places her bucket next to the table, and covers it with a plastic tarp she found.
The windows are drawn with charcoal and ash, depicting green forests and white wonderlands of the past.
It wasn't much, but it was her only home.
His feet brought him to a miserable looking warehouse. His brain told him to stop, but his body kept moving.
He started walking through a hole in the side, with a metal plank on the floor.
Two people were there and the one facing him was familiar. Suddenly, an excruciating pain ripped out from his body, and he wondered if he had been set on fire.
Bang.
She turned around, startled, and saw the miserable excuse of a door on the ground
She groaned.
"My queen." The general stood with a sadistic smile plastered onto his face. "Hello."
The girl with the bushy hair and dark eyes did not answer him, and stayed staring at the grey window of the ocean. The general of the axis forces made a visit once in a while.
He wanted to keep her alive so he could see her suffer.
"I brought you a gift."
"No gift of yours is welcome." Her response was quick and brisk.
"Well I'm sure you'll appreciate this one."
Footsteps struck the dusty concrete floor, and they were not either of theirs. She hears a gasp and something tumble to the floor.
He relived his stupid memories, and he decided that he liked being an amnesiac much better.
His parents and memories of childhood were not too horrible, the ones after that - not so much.
He killed everyone he knew.
He remembers his close friends, Ron, Ginny. He remembers his parents again, and he remembers his name.
Harry.
He remembers being in the Chinese army against Japan. He was on a failed naval attack mission, and he fell into the ocean. The Japanese saved his body and conducted experiments on him and his comrades. After that, they wiped their memories. That's his logical assumption. He thinks they did it with other soldiers in the allied forces.
They let them go and they'd been celebrated like the fools they were. A while later, he fought Japan, and his country started winning battles.
But Germany surrendered, and Japan got desperate.
That night, the soldiers who'd gone through the experiments killed everyone opposing the axis forces.
He remembers being aware of what he was doing, but unable to stop.
He remembers blood. Too much blood. The rivers were stained red, and bodies were strewn everywhere.
He killed his parents, his friends, everyone, except Hermione.
When he walked over to her house, he looked at her sleeping form, and just walked away to where the other soldiers were. Then he and his comrades were in a building, and they stood while a whirlwind of fire and smoke saw everything burned down. They stood there in an imperturbable tranquility as the image of fire seared their eyes.
Many days passed, and he neither stirred, nor awoke from his slumber.
The only way she was sure he was alive was his heartbeat, and the steady breathing. She was very tempted to kick him out into the ash clogged grass, but she knew what he did was not his fault. The general explained the experiment.
It was not his fault that he killed everything she'd known.
He left for the army, and the last time she saw him was when he stood over her with a knife. He walked away. Later, the general told her he ordered him to stop because she was a queen leading the cause, and he wanted to see the queen dethroned.
Now that the memories are gone, he sees black, and the darkness is suffocating him.
Her family is in heaven, and she yearns to be with them. She is not free on Earth, and staying only causes pain for her.
She's not dying though. She is the only hope.
The general visits again, and he answers her questions for amusement. Luke's alive because they got his body and saved it, to torture her.
Right then, she knows what she has to do.
He waits, and he feels himself slowly waking up.
When daylight penetrates his eyelids, his eyes open.
He focuses on the dagger in front of him, and he smiles.
He looks up at Hermione, and sees a tear on her face.
He mouths: thank you.