Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and this fanfiction has been copywrited by my slightly sadistic and certainly very strange imagination.

A/N: This is...interesting. Read. Enjoy, and here are some packets of e-peanuts for you while you do.

It is eternity you spend in the void, in the dark, in the nothingness. And when you get back to the something world, only one second has passed – maybe less – and you have changed.

You look around the at all the somethings, and you weep, because it is not nothing.

You are standing on grass – on something – and the grass is on ground, on rock, and behind him you see the lopsided house you love, and you know that it is beautiful, because it is something.

The nothing was beautiful too, but it was cruel, in the absence of good, in the way that no something can be cruel, and you know that while some may be suited to the beauty of the nothing, you are not; you need somethings to survive. And how you survived in the nothing is a mystery to you, even when all else has become clear in the eternity of nothingness.

You see your friend running toward you, the friend that you love, the friend who is something, someone, and you yell 'over here' with the voice that is almost nothing.

Your friend that is something, someone, with the flame hair, runs over here and says 'you yelled, Harry, you kinda yelped. You all right? You look sorta weird' and since he asked, you tell him about the nothing that you know your enemy ripped you into that was all eternity in one second.

And since he is your friend, and in spite of being something and someone and not believing in nothing before, he believes you, and he notices the change in your eyes that is ageless and looks at everything around you with wonder that it is all something, and he stays silent when he walks you back to the house.

The air teases your cheeks and you lift your nose to it and smell it, and you notice another something in the breeze, moisture; rains come. You mention this to your flame-hair friend who is something and someone, and he startles; glances at you sideways from a slightly tenser lanky frame and tells you to come inside then.

You do and the mother of your flame-haired friend who is something and someone (he has a name – a something name – Ron) looks at you and knows you've changed but she doesn't know how to deal with it, and so bustles around you and hugs you, which you love because they are something (even if the something is a bit painful) and you tell her about the nothing.

The flame-haired one you love who is something and someone and Ron's sister and more than that, looks at you and knows you've changed, and begins to change herself because you love her and she loves you and she sees some of the beauty of the somethings already, and knows some of the horror of nothing already.

Rain pounds down in a sudden burst of the clouds, and it is something that you love.

And time passes.

Time passes always; it is something.

You realize, and remember, as time flies by in the beauty of the somethings that you will have to kill your enemy, and you have never killed before.

You do not know, either, whether Death is something or nothing, or maybe so nothing that it cannot be called nothing, really.

But then the birds sing and you lose yourself in the euphoria of something and of Ginny, who has seen your mind and told you that you are something important, special, and there is only the tiniest dot of nothing in your soul that she will not allow to become bigger and consume as nothing is apt to do.

And your scar hurts sometimes, but the pain is something, and you did not even have pain in the nothing (which you are glad about; you do not like pain) so you do not hate it.

You make plans with more someones about disposing of your enemy, but you disregard them all when he sets loose nothing on the world, and you take the nothing from the something and you place it where it belongs, in the void, where it cannot consume the beautiful somethings.

You send your enemy with it, to the void, and it consumes him, and he is no more than nothing, trapped in the void; and it is done, and the someones can be happy with the somethings in the world.

At least, you are.

A/N (#2!): That was Harry, by the way. In case you didn't notice, guess, or disregarded the summary. Grin! Hope you had fun! Review!