Title: Revolution: A Hidden Agenda
Author: Amelie Lorent
Summary: Absolute power corrupts absolutely. Hidden agendas lead to demise. Revolution is vastly overrated. Oneshot. PostHogwarts. AU.
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine.
Part I: The Beginning of the End
Blood.
It pours from the heavens, pooling on the damp grass.
Blood, so much blood, it stinks with the stench of mortality.
Death, in the end, will always be the winner, for it can never be altered.
War is a bitter affair, victory, only semi sweet.
How can we learn to love again when all that was pure is now infected?
It is tainted crimson with the blood of innocent lives lost.
Voldemort fell but few remain to rejoice at the conquest.
Harry succumbed and no heart is left unbroken.
Loyalties that predated time have been exterminated.
No one is faithful, all are betrayed.
Tears cannot be shed amidst such destruction, for all sense of feeling has melted away.
From the ashes of generations destroyed must rise a new leader, but the phoenix has sung its last song.
Rebirth is impossible, the doom of humanity, inevitable.
We will never rebuild what was lost.
Our fate is carved deep into stone and thereby made irreversible.
The battle is over, but the war just beginning.
A power struggle that will never end.
Part II: The New Ministry
Stupidity seizes the world in its clutches.
Its grip is strong and vindictive.
The curse of humanity becomes ever clearer.
We will never learn from past mistakes, therefore we are doomed to repeat them.
Absolute power corrupts absolutely but will never be fully understood.
The ministry has become an absolute power, now corruption taints the world.
It's like an infection spreading slowly, going unnoticed until it's too late.
There is no antibiotic for the disease of power so the death toll rises ever higher.
Desperation for order and normality brought it on, now it in turn slays all hope of familiarity.
People suck blood like leeches and bend others to their will like demons.
The magical world is ruled by the devil in all his scarlet horned glory.
Secret police take down resistors in the dead of the night when they think nobody is watching.
But they all see from under the covers as they suffer another sleepless night.
The world is flooded in trepidation, oppressed by fear, and plagued with insomnia.
Hogwarts once educated proudly, now it shrinks into the shadows, a prison of those who speak the truth.
Truth is a mortal sin when the world is governed by propaganda and lies.
Torture is the method of punishment for those who speak their minds.
Truth has become taboo, thought has become forbidden.
Minds are wiped to conform to ideals and returned to civilization as puppets.
Yet, resistance, however weak, still prevails.
Part III: Prison
It is a separate universe in and of itself.
A universe where torture is the common language and pain is the callous ruler.
From the depths of a cell a plan of resistance forms.
Two souls imprisoned long ago and overlooked plot mercilessly.
Together they can do great things, apart each one stands just behind someone else.
Leadership is a task they both shy from, shadows are the protection they seek.
Control through others is the way they make their ideas known, but others are vulnerable.
Others led to their demise and capture, dooming them to be tortured in prison.
But, even advanced spells cannot break iron resolve, so torturers eventually stop trying.
Two brilliant minds left unsupervised till the end of time, a recipe for disaster.
A passionate relationship once existed between them, back in their innocent school days.
They met in secret to explore the inner reaches of the other's body.
They discovered the inner reaches of the other's mind.
Nobody knew who they were behind their masks of indifference, save for each other.
Hiding was always their way of life, secrets the sustenance that nourished their souls.
Each was the others closest friend and at the same time, most dangerous enemy.
Friends because of the unity they shared.
Dangerous, because only they know the other's weaknesses.
In public they show no signs of recognition, privately they became one.
Time separated them and left them defenseless.
Circumstance thrusts them together once more.
Passion was wiped from the world long ago, but they cling to its strands as they cling to each other.
A new and dangerous power is forming; a revolution is soon to come.
Part IV: Revolution
Whispers of a jailbreak ring through the magical world
Government cover-up has failed to prevent word from spreading.
That is stage one of their plan.
A seed of doubt is planted in every person's mind.
A small group of followers sneaks stealthily into the room where the minister hides.
A knife in the dark quickly does its deed.
Crimson blood again splashes, a face etched with surprise rolls across the floor.
Always be the unexpected, people never anticipate you.
A bloody pattern dries in the wake of the head as it comes to a stop.
With the body of the minister still warm with fading life, everyone surrenders.
Life is a constant struggle to remain on the side of power.
Democracy is no longer understood.
A tall man stands proud as he swears himself into office, his lover breaths a sigh of relief.
There is still a glimmer of hope beneath the suffocating obscurity.
He plans to fan it into a full fire.
Again she stands just to the right, but he takes up leadership as his new face.
Promise of a better future radiates through the wizarding world.
But absolute power still corrupts absolutely and promises turn into meaningless words.
Despite the ideals they so carefully planned, he becomes no different than the man he came to replace.
That is the way of revolutions.
His lover is forgotten and left to wallow in her misery.
He knew her weaknesses, she was defenseless.
Betrayal hangs thick in the air amidst pieces of a broken heart.
The last bit of love in the world has abandoned her and the embers of passion finally die.
Part V: The Aftermath
Alone in the dark, the shadows around her, a metal blade dulled by the absence of light.
A pale strip of flesh is crossed with age old scars, gray in the endless obscurity.
Stillness around her, silence within her, broken by only the faintest gasp.
Red drips of blood falling to the ground in an elegant spatter scream hate.
Eyes void of tears echo her heart, blackened by the smoke of humanity.
Pain and numbness are one and the same, emotionless and cold.
Alone, so alone, she is haunted by dreams and reality.
Hallucinogens can only do so much when all around you is empty.
Pain killers are useless when the world is too blunt to cause pain.
Depression, betrayal, and abandonment are disregarded ailments of society.
Time teaches lessons, always forgotten as the next second ticks by.
Everything is nothing and it will never amount to anything.
Daylight corrupts, nighttime kills and the scars forever remain.
Past, present and future are always colliding in a mess of anonymity.
She wants to forget, erase the past, but it grows ever clearer.
Love is hollow, insincere, and insignificant, its meaning has disappeared over time.
There can never be compassion in a world distorted by detachment.
An arm slithers around her back like a snake with twisted intentions.
Its calloused hand grabs her wrist, stained with the blood of self affliction.
No words need be exchanged; the meaning is simple and clear.
Hazel orbs narrow and glare at the unwelcome presence, invader of her mind.
"I did this to you," he finally says, his voice cracks from pain.
"Its called 'self harm', the term is self explanatory." Her voice is sharp and biting.
She draws back her arm but he has seen all, the image burned into his memory.
"I said I was sorry." His voice is now hushed, tears pool in his eyes.
"That can't change the past." Her tone is unforgiving.
"I loved you, you know," he offers consolingly, but the meaning is lost on her.
"But what is love? A meaningless word created to destroy."
"Surely the most intelligent witch of her time would know better than this."
Thin lips curl into a malicious grin.
"That witch was lost long ago to the knowledge that intelligence is worthless."
"I did this to you." He says again, the tears drip down his face.
"You hurt me more than you'll ever be able to comprehend, you, with your hidden agendas."
The confession lingers in the air like wisps of breath on a winter morning.
"You were my beloved, I want you back."
"The girl you loved is already too far gone, a prisoner of her mind, slowly driven insane by neglect."
She begins to laugh madly, her eyes taking on a feverish tint.
The blade reappears, shimmering red with blood.
"Hermione." He says as if stating a fact.
Understanding settles in the pit of his stomach.
She brings the knife to his throat.
He makes no move to stop her.
Without her love he'd rather die.
He has become the monster he spent his life trying to destroy.
"I broke your heart." He admits, his eyes pleading for forgiveness.
She is long past sympathy.
"Indeed you did, and now you are going to Die."
The last word is merely a hiss, but it echoes repeatedly in his head.
Die. Die. Die. And now you are going to die. Diiiiiiie.
His eyes close as if to block out the sound, but it cannot be stifled.
He spent his whole life fearing what tomorrow would bring.
Now with death rapidly approaching, he has no anxiety.
Like a vampire stalking her pray, she closes in.
Her warm breath brushes his cheek.
He leans in for one last kiss, relishing the taste of his beloved, cherishing the feel of her skin as he caresses it.
"Goodbye Blaise," she whispers and draws the knife across his throat.
Blood spurts from the open wound and she washes her hands in it.
He watches on until consciousness fades, she is the last thing he sees.
LSD is her drug of choice, but tonight she selects heroine.
An overdose is her cause of death as she rapidly succumbs to its fatal effects.
Suicide is painless.
Homicide doubly so.
Absolute power corrupts absolutely.
Hidden agendas lead to demise.
Revolution is vastly overrated.
Life is naught but a dream for the dead.
-Ginerva Weasley 7/13/2020
a/n: English is not my first language, so if you notice that I misused any words, please let me know so that I can fix it.