A/N: Here's another possible future story idea. At the moment, as illustrated by the title, There is no idea for a name.
?
Destroyed. His home was destroyed. Countless eons of existence, of bringing peace and order to the universe had ended. His brothers gave their lives in a desperate final act, leaving him alone. Alone to attempt to complete his mission. Alone to deliver this gift...this weapon to one worthy enough to wield its strength.
"What do we do now?" The question, asked by one who usually oozed confidence, shook with the fear of the unknown. The massive warrior, clad in a black and green body suit, looked up at the tiny hovering form of his leader. The small blue man looked into the face that had sent many enemies fleeing in abject horror.
"Now, Kilowog, we must follow the ring to its chosen recipient."
Ganthet of Oa looked to his palm,upon which rested a large green ring. It glowed faintly with the ambient power of his deceased fellow guardians, their sacrifice providing it with energy all its own. His mind flashed over the recent events. How Hal Jordan, the greatest of the corps, had fallen so far. How, in a fit of rage and grief, he stormed across the cosmos. How so many of his comrades had been obliterated at his hands. How the guardians themselves had let their own hubris destroy them.
Kilowog stood stoically, watching the final Oan guardian ponder over the very subject that he himself reviewed. He, like so many of the others, had stood opposed to the rabid Hal Jordan. He'd fought the way that he always did, viciously and with all of his considerable strength. Unfortunately, it had all been for naught. He would have perished along side his brethren had it not been for Ganthet.
"I ain't happy that you pulled me from the battle, Ganthet."
"I understand, Kilowog, but you will be needed to train whoever is chosen."
The massive, pink-skinned warrior merely grunted in reply as the Oan sent a small charge into the ring. It gently floated from his azure skin, revolving as it searched for the being to wield it. Suddenly, with a vivid emerald flash, the ring vanished towards its destination.
"Very well. Come, Kilowog, we must prepare for our journey."
--oo0000oo--
The warm summer air washed over Harry Potter as he climbed onto the roof of number twelve Grimmauld place. He'd just returned from the ministry of magic and his trail. He was glad that the sham of a proceeding had worked out in his favor. To think that he'd almost been expelled from Hogwarts for defending himself. Really, what was he supposed to do when faced with Dementors whose goal was to devour the souls of him and his cousin.
"Harry?" The dulcet tones of his best friend originated from his bedroom window. He was still grateful that his Godfather, Sirius Black, had put his foot down. Molly Weasley had tried to put him in the same room as her son. Not that the idea appalled him, considering Ron was his friend, but he needed a break from the God awful snores after an entire school year of sharing a dorm. Now, he had the room to himself and was enjoying it the most he could.
"Out here, Hermione."
A head of bushy brunette hair stuck itself out of his window and looked up. He waved from the slope of the rough shingles and beckoned to her. Sighing, Hermione Granger shimmied out and up to sit beside him.
"Don't you know that it is dangerous to sit on a roof?"
"Probably, but I needed some fresh air. The tension in that house was driving me crazy. You'd think that Ron'd be happy that I wasn't expelled, but he just keeps glaring at me."
"I noticed. What is his problem? Ginny too, though I seem to the the target for her irritation."
The two friends fell into a comfortable silence as the stars twinkled above them. Harry leaned back against the slope of the roof as he pondered his life. Unconsciously, Hermione lay back as well, her head resting on his out-stretched arm.
"Do you think we can win this war?" she asked after a few silent minutes, still looking up at the stars and noticing an oddly green-tinted streak of light.
"I don't know, 'Mione." he replied, easily letting the nickname slip. "We'll need a bloody miracle at this rate."
The green light suddenly switched trajectories. Hermione watched curiously as it seemed to aim directly at them.
"Er...Harry?"
"Yeah?"
"Did you notice that green light?"
Harry glanced up just in time to see a great flash of emerald light shoot directly at them. Instinctively, he rolled over to cover Hermione and waited for the imminent impact.
"Harry Potter?" stated a crisp voice from above him. Slowly he raised his head to see an ornate green ring hovering just two feet above the roof line. Where a jewel would usually rest, what seemed like a vague rendition of an old-time lantern glowed with power.
"Harry Potter." the ring stated again in the same crisp monotone.
"Yeah?"
"Harry Potter. You have been chosen to overcome great fear. You have been chosen to wield the surviving power ring of the Green Lantern Corps."
A/N: If anyone has an idea for a title, drop me a line.