This is just an idea. Tell me if it's stupid. I didn't give it that much thought.
So far away we wait for the day
For the light source so wasted and gone
We feel the pain of a lifetime lost in a thousand days
Through the fire and the flames we carry on
Hermione ran down the hallways, dodging spells, Fred on her tail. She reached the Gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office, the last safe place in the castle. She stopped, panting, clinging to the statue for support.
Ginny's body, sprawled across the floor, her hair so blood-soaked that Hermione couldn't tell what was her real hair color. For the first time in a long time, Harry cried.
"L-lemon drops?" She asked, trying to control her sobbing. Fred stood with his back against hers, firing spells down the hall. The Death Eaters were closing in, and the maniacal laughter of Bellatrix Lestrange could be heard.
Ron was next, grief washing over him. He went after his sister's killer, too many tears in his eyes for him to see clearly. He fell to the ground. Hermione puked in the corner, tears pouring freely from her eyes. Harry had disappeared.
The gargoyle took one look at the scene and said, gruffly, "Close enough." Without hesitation, Hermione grabbed the red-haired boy's hand, pulling him up the stairs. They ran, though their legs were about to give out, until they were safely barricaded in Dumbledore's office. He slumped against the desk, weary, as she rummaged through the drawers, frantically searching.
Neville and Luna went down fighting together, as smoothly as clockwork. It had been Bellatrix; Hermione was still plagued by her cackling face as she stepped over their bodies.
"What are you doing, Hermione? What could help us now?" Fred gazed at her without emotion, dark circles rimming his red, puffy eyes. The bushy-haired girl said nothing, deep in her search.
George. Oh, George. A nameless Deatheater, wandless, had attacked him from behind, peircing him through with a spear from one of the suits of armor. Fred watched, too busy saving Hermione to come to his rescue.
"I found it!" She shrieked, holding up what seemed to be a Time Turner. Fred gave her a weird look.
"What? We're going back a few hours to stop Voldemort?" She shook her head, smiling maniacally.
"No! There were elements of this war that we never knew, horcruxes that weren't destroyed." She was close to sobbing at this point.
Harry. "The Boy Who Lived". Her best friend. Their one hope. Voldemort killed him as two deatheaters held him down. After that, it was chaos, one bloody massacre. Fred and Hermione escaped, hearing the screams of Mrs. Weasley and Professor Sprout behind them.
"So…I don't understand." The gargoyle downstairs screamed, the sounds of slicing and crunching metal following. Without hesitation, Hermione threw the time turner around Fred's neck, spinning the little hourglass.
She felt as if she had been sucked through a tiny hole, like apparition and floo powder at the same time. She held on to Fred, who gripped her shoulders tightly. They fell backwards as the spinning slowed down, landing on the floor of Dumbledore's office.
"It worked." Hermione knew the differences when she saw them. Fawkes sat in the corner, sleeping. There was no portrait of Dumbledore on the wall, and the sounds of DeathEaters were gone. The moon was bright outside the window, the only light in the room. The Headmaster was not in sight.
"Where…er, when are we?" Fred asked, releasing his vice-grip on the small girl. She shrugged, wobbling a bit. The young man grabbed her elbow to steady her, and it was silently decided that they needed to find a place to sleep.
"Room of Requirement?" She asked, eyes drooping. He nodded, and the two walked silently down the stairs and into the hall. They were too tired to care about running into Peeves or Filch, too tired for anything. Too tired to talk, too tired to walk, too tired to live.
But they had to. For Harry's sake. For George's sake. For Ron and Ginny and Neville and Luna and everyone they had watched be murdered.
For the world's sake.
As they trudged past the familiar bare wall for the third time, a small door appeared, and they walked through it gratefully. Without a further word, they slumped on the beds that had been provided for them, and let the grief of the world wash over them.
In the morning, they would set out to change the course of the future.
I know it's short. It's a pilot. PLEASE PLEASE tell me what you think! I need to know if I should continue!