AN: I am not JKR but wish I would have her imagination and dedication. As it stands, I do not own anything but the plot of this story.

This came to me quite suddenly and I just had to write it. I have drafted a few ideas for future scenes too so I hope you will enjoy! English is my second language, I will take any comments on my phrasing and spelling as a chance to improve so feel free to comment if you spot anything!

Enjoy,

Rose

At first came the end

She was walking in a daze along the dimly lit corridors. The moonlight sometimes came to rest on the bodies of fallen friends and foes. Each human shape looked even paler in the eerie glow of the moon. She felt sick. Each new lifeless form crushed a little bit more the hope she had left to find survivors. She hated the moon.

She sighed, her throat tightening painfully as she tried to swallow back her tears. Now was not the time to let them go. She lowered herself to uncover the face of another dead. The moonlight filtered through the broken wall just enough to reveal the identity of the young victim. Colin would not take another picture. A shocked expression on his face, he laid amongst the rubble, his camera a few feet away, shining in the nightly light. How she hated the moon right now.

She used to love the moon and its soft, once comforting, light. It used to be synonym of freedom, of innocent flights around her childhood home, away from the eyes of her brothers. What she would now give for them to see her, to call her, to tell her they were here, well and alive. She needed to find them.

Another body. A black cloak. A silver mask covered in dried, brown blood which only revealed a strand of black hair in a comical yet dramatic way. A morbid sense of curiosity overtook her and she pushed away the mask. A mild feeling of recognition. The man was young, no more than twenty odd years. Had he been a student when she had joined Hogwarts?

She closed her eyes and breathed, trying to ignore the heavy smell of dust, death and blood, as she needed to clear her thought and focus. But as she closed her eyes, a terrifying, smiling face came back to her mind. Bellatrix. Bellatrix laughing as she was torturing Tonks in her last moments, blood pouring from her shaking, barely living, body. Blood. Blood everywhere.

Her stomach clenched in revolt. Her whole body was shivering. She forced herself to move forward but froze almost immediately.

His voice resonated through the castle once more.

"Harry Potter is dead…"

She fell to her knees.

"He was killed whilst running away, trying to save his life as you were giving yours for him…"

She was frozen, terrified. The world must have stopped in that instant because she couldn't hear anything more even if somewhere at the back of her mind, she vaguely registered his voice continuing to spill its venom.

Harry could not be dead. He was supposed to beat Voldemort. It had to be a lie, a lie meant to discourage them, to convince them to give up completely. Harry had sworn, sworn to defeat Voldemort. Harry could not be dead. He had promised that he would end it. That the fight was worth it, that she would be freed from his influence… she could not live in a world where Voldemort won because that would be...

Neither can live while the other survives… was that it? Was Voldemort prophesied to be the survivor? Was she cursed to feel the weight of his presence for the rest of her days?

She could not think clearly. Fear was eating her from inside and was threatening to overcome her. She had to be sure and so she stood up. A cold sense of resolve building inside of her, fighting the fear. Slowly, she placed one foot forward and started making her way towards the main entrance.

When she passed the imposing doors, she heard the hated, sadistic laugh again. Bellatrix. She looked over the crowd. He was there, just a few feet away. Voldemort, or rather, a shadow of what used to be the powerful and charismatic Dark Lord Voldemort. But even as a shadow, he had won.

Behind the feared shadow of a man, she saw Hagrid. Noone would miss the half-giant standing in the crowd of wizards and witches. And that had been Voldemort's purpose. Everyone could see…

"Nooo!" she heard herself screaming.

In the arms of the broken, sweet, half-giant, was the lifeless body of Harry Potter - his hair a mess, his face covered in mud and blood.

Harry. Harry who was supposed to be the Chosen One. The One to defeat the Dark Lord. Had they been wrong? Had Dumbledore made a mistake? Voldemort survived. Harry was dead.

"Harry! HARRY!" her brother and Hermione screamed and it was like their scream had woken the crowd.

Screams and insults flew around her like curses but she barely registered them. All she saw was the realisation of her worst fears. The fears that had followed her from her first year at Hogwarts. She could not escape him anymore. Tom had won. Voldemort was without opposition.

Her hand acted as if it had its own consciousness and caressed the pendant she wore. A memory flashed to her mind.

!

The sun was high above the Burrow.

Hermione and her were sitting under her favourite oak tree, just atop a little hill which offered an almost limitless view of the countryside around her childhood home. School would start soon for the last few months of the year and Hermione had offered to help her revise for her OWLs.

At least that is what she was supposed to do. After asking her the same question for the third time, Ginny had taken the book from Hermione and place her hand on hers.

"Is everything alright, Hermione? You seem to be somewhere else."

"Sorry Ginny, I…" she hesitated. This was so unusual coming from Hermione that Ginny had felt on edge immediately, shifting slightly to get closer to her friend.

Hermione had taken out a tiny bottle, filled with a dark purple liquid which shined in a way reminiscent of a night sky just before dawn came to replace it.

"I don't think we will be back in Hogwarts next year," Hermione had continued.

"But you haven't taken your NEWTs yet and mom…" Ginny had attempted, a sense of dread starting to grow in her.

Hermione had shaken her head. "It is only a possibility, do not mention it to anyone, Gin, please!"

The frantic tone of her voice had told Ginny that it was more than a possibility but that secrecy was paramount. However, Hermione had apparently decided that Ginny should know. Ginny had squeezed Hermione's hand slightly and smiled reassuringly. Or she at least she had tried.

"What is this?" Ginny had then asked, trying to encourage Hermione to continue.

"It is a very unique potion… I had to… it's very unique." Hermione was clearly not ready - or able to tell her all the details. "It is an Essence of Time"

Ginny had frozen in place and Hermione had met her gaze, conscious of her younger friend's stillness.

"It can take a person back in time, a few years back." she had explained, regaining her academic voice. "However for the essence to take effect, there must be a connection between the person who drinks it and the anchor."

"Anchor?"

"The reason the Essence of Time is so rare, so unique, is that it only allows souls that have a very special connection to find each other in time. The person who drinks it needs someone to act as an anchor of sort to pull them to the fabric of time." Hermione's voice had been but a murmur and Ginny had leaned towards her without thinking about it.

"What are you trying to say Hermione? Why are you telling me this?"

"When Harry saved your life in the Chamber," she had looked apologetically at Ginny when she recoiled, the memory clearly still painful, "you created a life debt to him and you… well, you haven't repaid it yet."

Ginny had frowned. She had never thought of this. Harry had never mentioned it.

"I believe from my research that this creates a connection between your souls until the debt is paid. This would fulfil the connection needed for the potion to work"

"I see," Ginny had said, understanding drawing upon her. "You want me to take the potion. Why? When would I go?"

"Yes, because Harry trusts you… He will listen to you. It would take you to the Chamber."

"The Chamber!" Ginny had cried, a shiver running down her spine.

"Wait, listen to me, Gin," Hermione had pleaded. "You would go back to the Chamber and tell Harry what happened. You can help him make things right if we can't do it the first time. This is a last resort, hopefully it won't ever be needed," she reassured. "Meddling with time is dangerous. I would not encourage you to take that risk if there is a chance we can succeed naturally."

!

The memory faded and Ginny's gaze fell on Voldemort, who had his wand pointed at Neville.

"... no more Sorting at Hogwarts. There won't be anymore houses. The crest and the colours of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin will suffice for all…"

They had lost. Harry was dead. Fred was dead, Lupin, Tonks… so many were gone forever and Voldemort had won. They had failed.

Amid the chaos, she found Hermione, who was already watching her. Their eyes met and she knew. It was time. Slowly, almost without thought, she reached for her pendant and opened the tiny bottle that was hanging on it.

She drank it, the content so minute that she could not taste it. She felt the burnt however. The overwhelming, powerful pain that took her away into the nothingness. Fear came.

She would have preferred to stay in the nothingness however. Suddenly an incredible sense of gravity crushed her, throwing her violently on the ground that had not been so far away in her last memory of life.

Struggling to steady her breath, she looked around her. There was too much light and she had to bat her eyelids several times before she could see where she was.

It was not the Chamber of Secrets.