In The End
Harry sat alone in an old muggle inn, huddled up in blankets, his wand, books; all other magical things were hidden in a trunk at the end of his small wooden bed. Alone he stayed, alone in his mortal fear and grief. Recounting the war, tears rolled down his face. In that war he'd lost his two best friends, his leader, and too many other friends, enemies and even the people he knew. The first thing Lord Voldemort had done, once resurrected, was to attack the muggles. Why, the poor muggles said that it was a bomb, and blamed other countries, creating World War 3 for the muggles, but it wasn't. Lord Voldemort killed over 50,000 people in one go, with a new, powerful spell that he used, in America. America were angry – they blamed Iraq, Afghanistan, even Russia. They went to war against those three countries, and, of course, Voldemorts own country, Britain, went to war accompanying America.
With a sigh, Harry remembered the total of dead he'd seen at the end of the world war, which had been won by America and Britain. It was over a million people dead, both soldiers and civilians, muggle and magical. Although, little did they know it, a lot of the killing had been done by Voldemort, or at least, the trigger to the war. One man started the third world war, with one spell. It was bad times to be living in. He went around majestically, death eaters a black cloud at his back, gathering followers, whether they wanted to join, or were weak enough to be controlled, or killing those who opposed him. A month into the third world war, which started at the same time as Hogwarts opened, Voldemort believed to have enough power, strength and followers to enter Hogwarts, with them, of course, and take on Dumbledore.
Sweeping through the school, Voldemort caused havoc. Of course, he was intent on Dumbledore, so he and his group with protection spells up again the petty spells of the students stormed through Hogwarts. When they reached Dumbledore's office, the doorway burst open, Dumbledore stood there, radiating fury. But the age showed on old Albus's face. Voldemort no longer feared Dumbledore. They battled, the two great wizards, good vs. evil, no input from the followers of either side, until finally, Voldemort finished Dumbledore off. The remaining students and teachers of the school saw this, and then fled, far away, with the exception of the majority of slytherins. The house's were destroyed – Hogwarts was renamed Slytherin. It was a school for the Dark Arts – Voldemort the Headmaster. And what, on the tallest tower of them all, despite attempts to remove it, stood? Or rather, sat? Albus Dumbledore's head magically held up there, with protections to keep it aloft, and in black writing the words 'Slytherin School – Voldemorts Dark Arts'. It was bad times, bad.
Ron, Harry and Hermione remained together, sheltered at the Burrow, or as much shelter as that provided, trying to plan, take the Dark Lord out, with the rest of the Weasleys. For days, weeks, they heard newsflashes of the dead, including:
•Neville Longbottom
•Cho Chang
•Dean Thomas
•Lavender Brown
•Parvati Patil
•Sirius Black
•Remus Lupin
•Arabella Figg
•Cornelius Fudge
And many, many more. The Ministry of Magic was overthrown – Voldemort was leader of that, too, and the Weasleys hastily left it, and remained in hiding with their family, Harry and Hermione. The Order of The Phoenix was useless – their leader and all of its members were dead – there was no hope. None at all. The people's only hope was Harry Potter – he'd escaped the Dark Lord numerous times, he'd prevail again. Or at least, the remaining good witches and wizards believed this. But they'd been wrong.
Finally, Harry, Ron and Hermione, forced out of hiding when Tom Marvolo Riddle, the Dark Lord, Voldemort, attacked the Burrow. Instantly Ron's parents were killed, followed closely by Bill, Charlie and Percy, Fred and George were tortured then murdered, and Ginny, poor little Ginny. Voldemort remembered when he controlled her, the Chamber of Secrets, and he kept her. Probably still had the girl. Harry could do nothing now, he was defeated. The world was ruled by dark wizards; muggles knew of the magic and lived in fear.
Harry, Ron and Hermione had taken on the Dark Lord, they had been killed, and Harry had fled. No longer brave, all his comrades taken from his midst, he hid, and remained in hiding, not using his magic for fear of being found, living as a muggle in a tattered, run down inn, alone and friendless. No-one respected him any longer; he had ran rather than die. He had changed – become cowardly and small. Now, he was famous as the one who let Voldemort take over. Dark times remained, Dark Times. In The End, he hadn't lived up to his name, or expectations. He had ran, hid, left those he loved to die, and the world to be run by evil.
But the Dark Times weren't over yet.
Harry sat alone in an old muggle inn, huddled up in blankets, his wand, books; all other magical things were hidden in a trunk at the end of his small wooden bed. Alone he stayed, alone in his mortal fear and grief. Recounting the war, tears rolled down his face. In that war he'd lost his two best friends, his leader, and too many other friends, enemies and even the people he knew. The first thing Lord Voldemort had done, once resurrected, was to attack the muggles. Why, the poor muggles said that it was a bomb, and blamed other countries, creating World War 3 for the muggles, but it wasn't. Lord Voldemort killed over 50,000 people in one go, with a new, powerful spell that he used, in America. America were angry – they blamed Iraq, Afghanistan, even Russia. They went to war against those three countries, and, of course, Voldemorts own country, Britain, went to war accompanying America.
With a sigh, Harry remembered the total of dead he'd seen at the end of the world war, which had been won by America and Britain. It was over a million people dead, both soldiers and civilians, muggle and magical. Although, little did they know it, a lot of the killing had been done by Voldemort, or at least, the trigger to the war. One man started the third world war, with one spell. It was bad times to be living in. He went around majestically, death eaters a black cloud at his back, gathering followers, whether they wanted to join, or were weak enough to be controlled, or killing those who opposed him. A month into the third world war, which started at the same time as Hogwarts opened, Voldemort believed to have enough power, strength and followers to enter Hogwarts, with them, of course, and take on Dumbledore.
Sweeping through the school, Voldemort caused havoc. Of course, he was intent on Dumbledore, so he and his group with protection spells up again the petty spells of the students stormed through Hogwarts. When they reached Dumbledore's office, the doorway burst open, Dumbledore stood there, radiating fury. But the age showed on old Albus's face. Voldemort no longer feared Dumbledore. They battled, the two great wizards, good vs. evil, no input from the followers of either side, until finally, Voldemort finished Dumbledore off. The remaining students and teachers of the school saw this, and then fled, far away, with the exception of the majority of slytherins. The house's were destroyed – Hogwarts was renamed Slytherin. It was a school for the Dark Arts – Voldemort the Headmaster. And what, on the tallest tower of them all, despite attempts to remove it, stood? Or rather, sat? Albus Dumbledore's head magically held up there, with protections to keep it aloft, and in black writing the words 'Slytherin School – Voldemorts Dark Arts'. It was bad times, bad.
Ron, Harry and Hermione remained together, sheltered at the Burrow, or as much shelter as that provided, trying to plan, take the Dark Lord out, with the rest of the Weasleys. For days, weeks, they heard newsflashes of the dead, including:
•Neville Longbottom
•Cho Chang
•Dean Thomas
•Lavender Brown
•Parvati Patil
•Sirius Black
•Remus Lupin
•Arabella Figg
•Cornelius Fudge
And many, many more. The Ministry of Magic was overthrown – Voldemort was leader of that, too, and the Weasleys hastily left it, and remained in hiding with their family, Harry and Hermione. The Order of The Phoenix was useless – their leader and all of its members were dead – there was no hope. None at all. The people's only hope was Harry Potter – he'd escaped the Dark Lord numerous times, he'd prevail again. Or at least, the remaining good witches and wizards believed this. But they'd been wrong.
Finally, Harry, Ron and Hermione, forced out of hiding when Tom Marvolo Riddle, the Dark Lord, Voldemort, attacked the Burrow. Instantly Ron's parents were killed, followed closely by Bill, Charlie and Percy, Fred and George were tortured then murdered, and Ginny, poor little Ginny. Voldemort remembered when he controlled her, the Chamber of Secrets, and he kept her. Probably still had the girl. Harry could do nothing now, he was defeated. The world was ruled by dark wizards; muggles knew of the magic and lived in fear.
Harry, Ron and Hermione had taken on the Dark Lord, they had been killed, and Harry had fled. No longer brave, all his comrades taken from his midst, he hid, and remained in hiding, not using his magic for fear of being found, living as a muggle in a tattered, run down inn, alone and friendless. No-one respected him any longer; he had ran rather than die. He had changed – become cowardly and small. Now, he was famous as the one who let Voldemort take over. Dark times remained, Dark Times. In The End, he hadn't lived up to his name, or expectations. He had ran, hid, left those he loved to die, and the world to be run by evil.
But the Dark Times weren't over yet.
