It felt a little like chaos – a nice way to depict it – with so much blood shed the ground had been stained crimson, chaos seemed to be the only way to describe it.
All the product of war. Redundant, pointless, preventable war.
Unnecessary cries of vengeance filled the air turning light into dusk, fire illuminating every ruined building.
Yes, chaos was a fine way to describe it.
Hermione's biggest mistake was thinking that she was safe. That maybe if she tried a little harder her blood stained hands, and uncertain future wouldn't be able to catch up with her. Maybe if she'd went back just a little farther she could salvage memories of the before.
No matter how far back Hermione went, there would always be war. Always someone to greedy, somebody who wanted more than they deserved. That wouldn't change. That would never change.
She didn't mean to do it – yes she did.
How could she not?
When it was sitting there, so perfectly still and untouched.
Yes, she definitely meant to do it. She just didn't mean to do it so correctly.
She hadn't meant to go that far back.
She was never supposed to.