A/N

Round 8: Dystopian Future

Beater 2: What would life be like two years after Voldemort rises to power?

Optional Prompts: (word) cruel, (song) 'Centuries' by Fall Out Boy

Word Count: 2996

I would like to inform my readers that this story will be posted in an extended version as multi chapter fic since this was shortened to fit the word count requirement of QLFC.


Beyond Nightmares


Prologue~~~~ oOoooOoooOo ~~~Prologue GeneralPOV ~~ ~~oOoooOoooOoPrologue General POV ~~~ oOoooOoooOo~~ Prologue


Falling Stars

Some legends are told

Some turn to dust or to gold

But you will remember me

Remember me for centuries

The year Harry Potter went "missing" was the year in which optimists thought that they had a chance to win despite the fact that Voldemort already ruled both the Ministry and Hogwarts. The pessimists thought that light had lost. The realists were either fighting or getting the hell away from Great Britain.

But for all of them, the legend of the Boy-Who-Lived shined. Those who sided with the Dark Lord found the shine annoying like the sun stabbing one's eyes in the morning, aggravating one's hangover. Those who sided with Light found it to be a ray of hope, and it had never shone brighter than the day they fought the last battle.

Alas, even space junk can shine brightly when falling.

Perhaps, if the wizards and witches of Great Britain had not pushed all of their hopes onto the shoulders of a teenager, the war would not have been decided in one big gambit orchestrated by a dead, meddling fool. Maybe if somebody had taken the time to train the aforementioned teenager, he would not have assumed that his opponent would repeat the same mistakes over.


HP ~~~~ oOoooOoooOo ~~~ Harry Potter's POV ~~ ~~oOoooOoooOo~~ ~~ Harry Potter's POV ~~~ oOoooOoooOo ~~ HP


II. Like Tantalus

And just one mistake

Is all it will take

We'll go down in history

Remember me for centuries

I went to meet him. Of course, I did. I would not allow others to lay down their lives for mine. It was a mistake. It doomed us all.

I expected him to boast and taunt. And when I then inevitably enraged him with my retort, he would cast an Unforgivable Curse.

I did not expect him to end his taunting with tearing into my mind like a road roller before I even got a chance to respond. I put up a fight. But it was like trying to water the desert with only one glass of water.

He saw Snape's memories. His vow. His love. He saw what I was. And as I tried to stand up, unsure of when I had fallen in the first place, he waved his wand and I found myself trapped in glass.

I was unable to even close my eyes as he turned to his followers. I am sure that he spoke loudly but I heard it as dimly as if I was underwater.

But I heard him clearly.

"And so ends the so-called hero. He will get a front-seat to what I do to his precious friends before I'll kill him. He will see them suffer and hear them beg but he won't even be able to close his eyes, let alone help them."

I could feel bile rising in my throat and wondered whether I'd manage to choke myself on my own vomit before his cruel words could become reality. Even as I realised they never would. Because he did not wish to kill me, not anymore. That was a lie told to his followers.

But as he began to march towards Hogwarts, levitating my prison as he went, I really wished that I could believe that lie.

He motioned for one of his followers to come to him. He ordered him softly to do something, handing him a phial as he spoke. The Death Eater left the march. I could not see where the man was heading from my faux-glass prison.

Far too soon, I found myself facing the castle and more importantly, the army. They all looked grim but determined. Voldemort's mocking was answered with voices loaded with finality. The sorting hat burned on Neville's head. The Sword of Gryffindor glowed in the battle.

The fight was brutal. There was so much death—so much blood. Molly Weasley killed Bellatrix Lestrange. Rabastan got her in retaliation with the gut-exploding curse. Tonks and Remus laid next to each other even in death. It was a mess. I could feel my eyes filling with tears, which I could not blink away. And so, the scene before me changed into a black and crimson blur. The sounds of battle were muted by my encasement into one terrible unrelenting clamour.

It was a day I could never forget or so I thought. Truthfully, I would be lying if I said it was the worst day of my life. But it was the day freedom died. Perhaps not everywhere, but it did on the isles and it presented a real threat to all other countries.

But I realised that mistake while still trapped in my encasement. Voldemort had the statue-me placed on the right side of his throne in a bizarre parody of the advisors of old. So I had a front seat to the making of the new Great Britain.

I was trapped and powerless. Just an ugly statue. No, not a statue; a trophy. And Voldemort would mess with my head. He would speak through our link right to me. Taunting. Asking me to beg as he tortured my friends and allies.

And I saw Order members look at me as they were tortured as if I could break from this prison and save them. I heard them spit in defiance: "Weren't you intending to kill him? Are you too afraid your curse would backfire again?"

They were always interrupted with Crucio afterwards or even before they finished these sentences. They either fluently switched to screaming or started to grind their teeth together in an effort to not scream. Some bled out after biting their tongue in two. And I watched, unable to even close my eyes.

Despite my ears being torn by their tortured screams, I could clearly hear Voldemort's amused soft voice. "Aren't they amusing, when they so blindly believe my lie?"

It wasn't until Rookwood showed up that I started to understand what he had planned for me. I had lost track of the time that I had been trapped. In the state I was in it was so easy to deceive myself into believing everything was a nightmare considering I could not feel my muscles cramp or any hunger pains. I could not even feel thirst though my lips were dry and my eyes stung.

I had surely gone through shock but it was hard to say for sure as I was trapped, unable to even close my eyes and I must have slept suspended by my prison. Even today it seemed more like a nightmare than reality. I heard they teach kids these days about it in History of Magic. Just like Muggle kids are taught about Tantalus's suffering.


SS ~~~~ oOoooOoooOo ~~~ s POV ~~ ~~oOoooOoooOo~~ ~~ 's POV ~~~ oOoooOoooOo ~~ SS


III. The Dawn

Mummified my teenage dreams

No, it's nothing wrong with me

The kids are all wrong

The story's all off

Heavy metal broke my heart

I did not expect to wake up ever again.I wondered whatever this was hell. Even if it lacked the fiery pits, that idea was hard to disprove. Although, Arthur is a living proof, nowadays, that this is just plain old planet Earth.

It had been so disappointing. Waking up to the New Britain.

The second time I woke up in the hospital room, it was to Draco and Granger wearing matching rings. I was, unfortunately, capable of deciding that I was, in fact, awake.

It was from them that I learned the news. While the Order members that survived the battle had mostly been executed or tortured to insanity and left to die, while some were given as pets. Draco got Granger as a wife, officially, because genes of such a talented witch were not to be wasted—in accordance with the new policy.

Since the wars of the last century had decimated the Wizarding World's population, the Dark Lord demanded that his loyal subjects rectify the situation.

The fact that Draco Malfoy was married off to a Mudblood spoke volumes. While it was true that many Mudbloods and half-blood were basically to be used as broodmares, a marriage to pureblood Death Eater was unheard of.

It was Granger who silently told me about the curfew and the collars. Well, I say collar, but the truth was it could just as easily be an anklet. There was even a talk of making it into underskin applicable chips. The collars were made of obsidian. Granger let me see the one she was wearing. It looked to be chiselled out of one piece and fit tightly around her neck.

She told me that it was Rookwood's invention although, according to her research, it combined two already existing rune-schemes. The first one was an ancient scheme designed to suppress all magic cast with hurtful intention. The second rune-scheme Rookwood used he had slightly modified. It was a scheme mainly used in the training of beasts. It would shock the beasts with a small amount of voltage if the beast did something against standing orders.

Apparently, Rookwood's versions combined them with a pre-built order against life-threatening self-harm or suicide attempts. It also would cast a Petrificus Totalis should the wearer attempt to physically harm anyone the collar registered as a master or on a specific order. They also functioned as trackers and appeared to be unremovable. All these given as pets or brides were equipped with them.

Draco explained about the working camps where these who rebelled were kept and the way anyone unmarried who was not pureblood or half-blood was Vogel-frei. As free as a bird and like bird unprotected by laws, any violence against them was legal.

Hermione again took over. She told me about what happened to Harry and how he was officially declared dead the day she was married, two weeks ago. And that according to the rumour, the Dark Lord selected a bride for me.

At that, Draco handed me an envelope. I opened it and found a single photo. I stared at Lily with shock. What in Merlin's name? And then I noticed the subtle differences between the girl in the photo and my Lily. Her upper lip was just a bit thinner, her nose a bit longer.

In the photo, she was brewing a Pepper-up potion while shooting fearful glances in the direction of Avery. Avery held up a newspaper with yesterday's date clearly visible on them. The girl could not be older than Granger.

I gulped. Had the girl gone to Hogwarts she would have been my student. I thanked Merlin, she did not. Potter was bad enough. Speaking of Potter, he was alive. I could feel it. The courtesy of the unbreakable vow to protect the brat I made that night. Which presented the question, where was he? The Dark Lord said he was dead. Why would he lie? Oh, of course. He knew. He knew what the boy was.

I unthinkingly turned the photo around there was a date. A week from now. I blinked at it. What in the blazes of hell?

Something of my confusion must have shown on my face because Draco said: "That would be the wedding date. All gathering are meticulously monitored these days."

They left me alone afterwards to stare at the photo of Lily's look alike. Funny, how some things never change. How this nightmare called reality seemed like fulfilling of all my teenage dreams. The Dark Lord won. I was a hero and about to marry a beautiful red-head.

Only the redhead was not Lily although even her gesture seemed to say she was. Well, as much as one could judge from a wizarding photo. The very fact I was to marry a girl whose name I did not even know could mean the Dark Lord knew of my treachery. But would I not be dead if that were the case?

I did not know what I intended to do on wedding night eve if I had been subtly informed about our lord's expectation to see bloodied bedsheet in the morning. But when these green eyes looked at me with such clear desire I found myself disregarding the fact she likely was doused with a love potion.

The behaviour of my wife made no sense. Even if I managed to stop the house-elf ordered to give her a love potion once she was with child. Maybe the reason she still looked at me with trust afterwards was the fact I caught the little bugger in her presence and she heard the whole exchange, but even so why would she look so fearfully and with so much resentment on so many Death Eaters but not at me despite the fact she had seen my mark?

She did not remember her name and I heard that many presents had been hit with Memory charms so I did not comment on it not even if on our so called wedding they called her "Lily Anna Evanstar". There was something nagging me about it but I could not put my finger on it.

To this day, I can't and we already celebrated our first anniversary. Actually, that occasion only added more confusion into the mix. He told her something. I was too far away to hear what but she was not the same since. She still trusts me as unbelievable as it is, but her eyes are dead these days. Dead, in a way, eyes of many with these damned collars (she has an anklet) are, but hers weren't before. Her smile is obviously fake as she sits with me now but if I bothered to smile mine would be too. I doubt many smiles are actually genuine on this day.

For today is the second anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. And here it goes. I raise my glass mirrored by everyone else as the Dark Lord finishes his speech. "To the New Britain."

After this mandatory toast, my wife excuses herself. She is surely going to see Arthur now.


HP~~~~ oOoooOoooOo~~~ Harry Potter's POV ~~ ~~oOoooOoooOo~~ ~~ Harry Potter's POV ~~~~oOoooOoooOo~~HP


IV. Lies

Come on, come on and let me in

The bruises on your thighs like my fingerprints

And this is supposed to match

The darkness that you felt

I never meant for you to fix yourself

I stared at my son. Nothing made sense anymore. But then my life never did. Maybe, I should just accept that I am Lily Snape now. But how could I? I swiped at the tears falling from my eyes. I have long since accepted that I never would be normal but this-

I was startled from my musing by Arthur's cry. I smiled. "Are you hungry, sweetie?" I opened my robe and pulled him to my breasts. It still felt surreal even after all this time.

Two years ago I went to meet my death. An eternity later I was given a deal. I could save three people of my choice from torture and death by willingly, knowing the consequences, drinking a potion that would turn me into the female.

There was no question for me. If I could save three of my friends by sacrificing my masculinity; so be it. And if I were to become a broodmare as so many others? Well, I had been prepared to die before. I did not expect to look like my mother. The original Gender-Bending Potion would not cause that. The potion I was given must have been based on it, though, that was why it required my agreement.

I had spent some quality time imagining why exactly was I made to look the way I do now, as the anklet had been installed and I have gone through my menarche.

Then, the Fidelius was cast and there was no hope to ever resurrect the officially dead Harry Potter, because where he once was, stood a girl who did not understand.

Oh, I remembered being called Boy and Freak - and wasn't that confusing? I remembered to hate and fear the man on the throne, but I did not know who I was. I did not remember anything that could tie me to Harry Potter, the felled enemy. I was made to learn potions. I was told I was to marry. I remembered the name of my intended. It brought respect, trust and confusion to me. Was he not dead? I had thought he were.

I remember loving my husband. I remember being happy. So, what if I once upon a time were a boy? He dreamt of love and family and I? I had that now. I remember when the love-potion left my organism. The worry in my husband's eyes and the way he had kept his hands to himself. And my own silent musing of whatever I could ever love him.

Most of all I remember the day being Lily Snape become a nauseating lie. A lie I can't dispel, because I was only let on the secret. Thankfully, it had not sent me into premature labour.

Three years ago I hated being kept in the dark. Now I fiercely miss the sweet simplicity of amnesia. Two years ago I was prepared to die. Five months ago I was happy. And as I tried to get my son to burp I wondered if I was selfish enough to be happy again. Because in this new world freedom might be a lie. This New Britain stands on lies and mistrust. It might rule over its Muggle counterpart with a generous dose of unforgivable curses, but I do have family here.

A son that needs me and a husband that looks at me so lovingly, I sometimes manage to fool myself into believing that love is for me. And my friends are as safe as anyone in this mad world can be. They might not be happy - although Hermione seemed to be the only genuinely happy participant of today's festivities, glowing with happiness in her own pregnancy - but they are alive and well.

Once upon a time I thought that if Voldemort were to win, my life would end. Instead, I find my saving-people-thing being the only thing standing between me and happiness.