Disclaimer: yo yo yo, it's all Jo's.
A/N: So, here I am again. Handed in my last term paper Friday, and participated in a very loud and obnoxious victory dance in the hallway with my friends. And then I found myself loathe to ever touch another keyboard again, but I wrote this anyway because I suddenly have a lot of free time on my hands. It's a nice feeling, to be sure.
And I know you probably don't care. So here is the story, and for everyone out there going what the hell is entropy? right now, read the freakin' story and find out. I got the idea during sceince class when we discussed it. Isn't it sad, that even in science, I connect things to Harry Potter?
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Entropy
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All the world was moving toward chaos. Harry could feel it in the very air he breathed; the air that was now almost suffocating and saturated with a sense of foreboding. The air that was always bitter and uninviting and chilling to the bone. He knew something big was coming, something monumental that would change the course of the universe, and it seemed that Mother Nature knew it too because the flowers had shriveled up and wildlife was scarce and he could not remember the last time the sun had been out.
Voldemort had become an impenetrable fortress of malice and power. He knew no more restraint with the death of the only man he ever feared and the severely crippled Order of the Phoenix. Last month, the Dark Lord had marched into the Ministry of Magic, just sauntered in like it was nobody's business, and announced that he was the one in charge now. People had dared not question him; in fact, most had simply kneeled down in subservience, too bereft of hope to really care. Those who had refused his lordship were tortured and killed, and just like that, magical Britain was without government or form of resistance.
In the past year, ten major British cities had been engulfed in flames and reduced to ashes. The once proud city of London, with its grand buildings and bustling commerce, was no more as of only last week. An all-encompassing fire threatened to overwhelm the entire country soon, and really, how was an eighteen year old boy supposed to stop that?
Harry Potter had long since given up hope in himself, yet he fought on because of the hope he saw in the eyes of others, the longing and optimism on the faces of Ron and Hermione and even Ginny. They waged a guerrilla war on Voldemort's forces, but four against hundreds was no fair fight. They didn't know that he couldn't save them anymore; that the sun was slowly setting over Britain and that Harry wasn't sure if it would ever rise again.
He was standing on a great precipice, he knew, and the edge crept nearer every second. It was so tempting, sometimes, to jump off into the abyss, and he still wondered why he didn't.
War had made Harry a cynical being, a merciless and disparaging warrior, and he despised it. Before, so many secrets had been kept from him; there was so much that he had been protected from and he had hated it and he had raged against it, but not anymore. Now, he knew everything, and it scared him shitless, and he just wished he could be that ignorant twelve year old who had thought Professor Snape was something to be frightened of because he would never have that kind of innocence again.
The world, his world, was shot to hell, and even if by some impossible miracle he defeated Voldemort, it was never going to be the same. Because you can rebuild and restore and pretend everything is okay, but some wounds run too deep. They may scab over and stop stinging but underneath that callous there will always be damage and pain, and those were the kind of wounds that Harry had.
The Chosen One knew it would not be long now until there was mass panic in the streets. Until people ran amok and pillaged and plundered and burned and killed because they were afraid or just trying to survive. Hermione had told him once of a muggle scientific hypothesis. Entropy. The theory that one day, everything, every atom and molecule, would break free of the barriers and forces holding them together and the whole world would be left in utter chaos; the inevitable deterioration of society. Those muggles were definitely on to something, and who was he to argue with science? Harry knew there was no hope, Voldemort grew more powerful each day; the fall of the Wizarding World was inescapable and then all hell would break loose.
But, at least, if things continued on their downward spiral, he and his friends probably would not be around to see that end. And that didn't upset Harry nearly as much as it should have, because he knew that they were meant for a world much better than this one anyway.
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Aww, wasn't that sad? I bet you're weeping uncontrably right now, aren't you? Hmm, maybe not. Well, in any case, you should still review. And then I will love you. Ha. I'm a poet and I don't even know it.