A/N: Rated PG 13 for suicide. Don't say you weren't warned. Another poem fiction, except this time, it's not dialogue. The pattern is a bit similar; after all they were both dead. Snuffles2004 and my wonderful sister, Jessie beta-ed this story, Snuffles can also be credited for creating the title.
Disclaimer: Am I JKR? I don't really know, today I seem to be suffering from an identity crisis. Anyway, except for the reviews, I in no way profit from this.
Society's Noose
A figure clad in red and gold robes scurried around the soon to be abandoned apartment, dumping objects into her bag. Now was as good a time as any, what with the World Address coming up tomorrow.
No one would trace her back to this apartment, not that it mattered anyway. Not that anyone cared. Not that there were many left to care.
There were so few people left on Earth since the Purging it was scary. To think a planet with the abundant population of six billion people dwindled down to five million. And that was with the pocketfuls of muggleborns and half-bloods that had slipped through the system with her. Well, by the end of today, there'd be one less person for the New Order to hunt down.
She muttered to herself, unaware she was reciting her letter:
I'm just another one that you've destroyed
Caught up in lies to fill the void
And keep myself from being paranoid.
At the last line a bark of laughter rose in her throat. As if she hadn't spent the past six months feeding off rations she'd purchased before the War's end.
It was during that time she came to terms with reality, the reality that in society's current state there was no place for her.
A grim smile graced her lips as she headed out the door, set for the Courthouse. The Appotomox, except this time it was Grant's turn to surrender.
Briefly, a genuine smile flickered across her face. Another reference no one in the New Order would understand. Not with their ban on everything muggle, save Mai Tais and Oreos.
The muggleborn witch rolled her eyes, mentally reprimanding them for their irrational behavior. Every bartender from here to Shanghai knew how to mix a Mai Tai, but had it ever occurred to them that it was muggles who produced the cream filled cookies? She'd bet thirty quid the answer was no.
Her thoughts turned to the words she'd penned.
I know they'd all be terrified
By the hate laws that you've ratified
I'm almost glad they've not survived
Yes, it was true, she was the last one. The Creevy brothers might still be alive, but she hadn't seen them since the final battle six months previously.
It wasn't as if they expected to win, hardly anyone did, not even Loony Luna, not after Harry's death.
Harry never truly recovered from Sirius's death, not enough to gather the strength to defeat Voldemort anyway. After Harry was gone the wizarding world lost all hope. The Boy Who Lived had been their savior. Oh, they still fought, tooth and nail they did, but it wasn't the same. Those who had heard of the prophecy knew what was coming, those who hadn't suspected it none the less. A world without hope is a world with nothing at all. So now she was the last one left and it was her goal to deliver a message.
~~~~~~
She entered the inhabited neighborhood of London, wishing all the while that she knew how to fly a broom or that wards surrounding the Courthouse didn't prevent her from Apparating in the surrounding area.
I shall hide no more.
When you find my body
Hanging inches of the floor
You'll know I've slammed death's door.
No matter what you say
My blood runs pure
Untainted by your muggle lore
Though massacre was the wizard's cure.
Believe it or not, she mused, squinting in the night, her rational mind was still working.
They hadn't won. Not really.
Murdering all the muggles, muggleborns, and half-bloods was undeniably daft, if nothing else. Did they think that centuries of inbreeding would strengthen them?
Flawed logic obviously.
Sooner or later, someone would realize this. But by then, it would be too late.
Sickliness and disease
That's what wizard's blood will breed
All because you believed
You were above them
And you were, indeed
Did these people sincerely think that the great Lord Voldemort cared about their well beings? The man, if you could call that vile creature a man, was immortal. Perhaps the muggles were weak power-wise. So what? Their ideas were ingenious.
In some ways their creativity surpassed the wizards', who never bothered creating an alternate power source for magic. Just look at their inventions; even the occasional wizard owns an old fashioned oven. Who said the world had to be based on Social Darwinism? she thought angrily.
Regardless of their muggle relations, most half bloods and muggleborns were just as powerful, if not more so, then the average pureblooded wizard.
If it weren't for Voldemort… Yes, even then Voldemort was the perfect antithesis of the New Order. He was the most powerful wizard alive, and was his blood to be considered pure? Not unless someone changed the definition without her knowing.
If there was one thing she'd learned, and she'd learned plenty, it was that Voldemort was the biggest hypocrite to grace history books, muggle and wizard alike, since Adolph Hitler himself.
Through power strength and magical mightYou fought what's called a coward's fight
And I'll say this,
Those who win are not always right.
Damn straight they weren't right. The woman reflected on the words of her letter. Where was the morality?
She glanced around wondering vaguely how far it was to the Courthouse. The surrounding medieval structures dawned recognition. She was nearing the Courthouse; only a block more until her final stand. Her feet were killing her, not that it mattered, she'd be dead in an hour's time.
Her thoughts wandered back to the words she'd penned in her last document.
To see me hanging off the ground
Is to believe I am not sound
That all remains of reason;
Is in the darkness drowned.
And maybe it was true. Perhaps she was insane. God knows she wouldn't be the first, or the last, to go that way. It would certainly provide an explanation for her actions, though that was not what she so desperately craved. She desired the reality that was her old life.
Reminiscences of Hogwarts flooded the Gryffindor's mind. Compared to this, Hogwarts was a perfect little dreamland, immune to the petty problems of the outside world. It was their sanctuary where all troubles were distant memories and you were tucked safely out of harm's way. She and Ron had visited their former school at every chance they got after Harry's death.
Tears stung her eyes. It had been foolish of her to think any of the Weasleys would have lived on to see the aftermath of the War. With their flaming red hair and pale freckled skin they were easy targets on the battlefield. If only she'd had the chance to tell him…
It was then a gargoyle perched atop the Courthouse growled at her, causing the young witch to jump back in surprise
.
She was there.
This was it.
Choosing an immense oak she magically lassoed the rope around a stout looking branch, levitating herself to thrust her mop of dirt brown hair through the noose.
But I assure you if I were
To my cause it would not deter
She fastened the letter to her red and gold robes. Robes that Ron and Harry had given her as a graduation present. Robes that she would die in.
For I believe
She tightened the rope.
My blood
She deactivated the levitation charm.
Is pure.
The skin of her neck burned from the pressure of the rope. She couldn't breathe. Her throat stung from the lack of air. Final thoughts danced across her mind.
I'm almost glad they've not survived…it's a pity that I have…no place in this world for me…you hypocrite…
Her consciousness faded. It faded into sweet oblivion.
Her hair floated loosely on the air and her body hung limp, she was the last muggleborn hung by society's noose.