Prophecy
Once the Three who never died
Stood up to meet their fate
In the forest of Evergreen
Though it was too late
Fought valiantly and terribly
With a hero's breath
It took many wounds for them
To meet their hero's death.
Unlucky one, left behind
With no place left to crawl
Deserted by all once loved
Nowhere but down to fall.
The Lord of Darkness gone
Defeated by his past
The one who remains
Will raise more terror than the last.
~~~~~~~
Hermione lay on her back, staring peacefully at the blackened sky above her. Distant thunderclouds shook the humid air, so thick it was difficult to breathe. One hand was curled on her stomach, the other lying deadened at her side. It was odd, she thought, how this rain was so painful: sharp pricks, like pins, poking at her skin and making it tender.
She was vaguely aware that someone was beside her, speaking. Slowly, she turned her head, though it was difficult. It felt as though cotton had been forcibly shoved in her mouth.
Her eyes, though half-lidded, took in a tall figure with dark, bloody hair. Or was it just red? She squinted, trying to see, but the color was so peculiar. He was mouthing something, and for a moment she tried to read his lips. Why..please..she couldn't make out the other words. It was too difficult, and she was too tired. Her facial muscles hurt, and the pounding in her head was quite distracting. She tried to speak, but the cotton in her mouth stopped her from producing any sound other than a pained groan. She couldn't hear the sound that she made, but evidently the man did.
If she had opened her eyes, she would have seen him lean down to look at her. She was vaguely aware of the fact that he had taken one of her limp hands in his, but she was so tired.she was finished with fighting. She wanted to drift into that peaceful blackness that only sleep could offer. The throbbing in her head suddenly turned into a dull roar, and she whimpered in the back of her throat.
The roar was a yell, screaming a long, wordless cry that made her want to cover her hands with her ears. Though a moment before she hadn't been moving, now she was kicking and writhing. It hurt so much to move, but she had to.anything to escape the cries! Anything!
Hermione!
Hermione, I've just been told that they're coming now. I'll stay, but you need to go. Please, it's better this way, Harry will be here soon, and I'm to wait. We can't lose you, Hermione! We can risk my life, but you're invaluable.
There were more cries, not just this voice. It was pleasant, but the words were yelled at her and whipped away by a screaming wind. Now there were hoarse shouts, screams, footsteps. The man's voice grew more urgent.
Hermione, this isn't a game anymore! You told me so, you told Harry that we have to be strong! Run, flee, get us more help! Only Harry can face him, that's what the Prophecy said. Go! Now!
Footsteps thundered into her mind, and a new voice spoke as well.
I'm here! Go, both of you. He's coming, he's coming and you need to leave. I'll never forgive myself if either of you are hurt. Please!
Desperation, then she knew she was being dragged away. But the wrong way! No, they were leaving, but why the laughter? They had fallen into a trap, and now she was surrounded, and they were laughing at her. They were laughing.
She opened her eyes with a start, clutching the tall man who was now kneeling beside her. He was crying, she saw, brown eyes black with sorrow. He was hugging her, blood smeared all over his robes. Ron! It was Ron, he was safe, he was fine! She tried to speak, but it felt as though claws were tearing at her throat.
The screaming in her head had stopped, and she knew that it had been someone else, someone close. Now she was alone with her friend, beneath this black sky, and she forced herself to concentrate on what Ron was urgently saying. It was something important, she knew, and painfully pulled herself up to jam her ear against his mouth. He was startled for a moment, but realized that he would just have to speak in this position in order for her to hear. With a peculiar detachment Hermione realized that the blood on Ron's robes was her own. She was crying as well, from the pain, the sadness, the realization that she remembered nothing.
"Oh, God, Hermione, don't leave me, please. Why didn't you come when we told you to? Now, oh, God, Harry! Harry's dead, Hermione, he was killed the same moment You-Kno- Voldemort was defeated. We won, Hermione, but it wasn't worth it. He's dead, our Harry, he's gone, and you can't leave me, please. Please, be okay, help is coming, we'll get you help, but you have to hold on. Hold on!" Ron's voice was an endless wail, and he was crying so hard that she could feel his body convulse as each sob wracked his thin frame. She tried to hug him, but the best she could do was apply a feeble amount of pressure that made him cry harder.
We won.
She allowed herself to rejoice momentarily over this, a sad little smile curving her lips, bloody though they were. It took her a moment to realize what Ron was saying, and the smile fell off of her face the same way a drop of rain falls off of a rose petal.
Harry's gone. Harry's dead. Oh, Ron, I'm so sorry. You loved him just as much as I did. Harry was a hero, but so are you, so are you!
As she turned her head with the last amount of strength she possessed, he supported her. She kissed him softly, a mere wisp of her former self in his arms. Her brown eyes, that once contained such warmth, were already closed, the hevay lashes dark against her pale cheeks. Ron cried quietly, clutching her to him, blood on his lips, his face, his body. He heard a sound like rustling leaves and looked up to see a group of Aurors rushing towards him, but it was too late. With a vision blurred by tears, he watched her fight to speak.
"My hero." She whispered dryly, then shut her eyes, expecting to see black. But there was Harry! Briefly, she tried to return to Ron, but found that she couldn't. She was with Harry now, and his parents, and Neville, and the Weasleys, and all those who had died in the valiant fight to overthrow the Lord of Darkness, Voldemort.
Ron wept as the Aurors pried Hermione's body away from his, and he fell in a sobbing heap on the ground. Someone was talking to him, soothingly, but he heard no words. All he knew was that his best friends were dead, and he was alone. He had been called a hero, but what was a hero without his friends? He would never be able to go on living without them, never. Everyone he had ever cared about was dead. His parents, his siblings, even his owl, gone. But this, this was the worst blow of them all.
He beat the ground with one fist even as he was examined for injuries. "Let me go! LET ME GO!" He demanded, his voice an incessant shriek. He was crying so hard he was blinded, and could taste the blood lingering in his mouth.
"Harry! Hermione!" He called, though he saw nothing but his tears, "I'm coming with you! Don't leave me here. Don't leave me! I want to be with you, anywhere but here. I can't be alone! Not again, not after they all died, too, I'm the only one left. Don't leave me, don't leave me!"
Laughter, somewhere in that back of his mind. Bring them back, it whispered, you have the power to do so. You can accomplish great things, Ronald, great things. The Prophecy told many truths, and now you must fulfill it. You have no choice but to do so, and begin your Reign of Terror. They are watching you, Ronald. They are your friends now. They will never leave you. Let them fill your mind with sweet words, empty, but sweet. You are no longer alone, Ronald. No one will leave you now.
Once the Three who never died
Stood up to meet their fate
In the forest of Evergreen
Though it was too late
Fought valiantly and terribly
With a hero's breath
It took many wounds for them
To meet their hero's death.
Unlucky one, left behind
With no place left to crawl
Deserted by all once loved
Nowhere but down to fall.
The Lord of Darkness gone
Defeated by his past
The one who remains
Will raise more terror than the last.
~~~~~~~
Hermione lay on her back, staring peacefully at the blackened sky above her. Distant thunderclouds shook the humid air, so thick it was difficult to breathe. One hand was curled on her stomach, the other lying deadened at her side. It was odd, she thought, how this rain was so painful: sharp pricks, like pins, poking at her skin and making it tender.
She was vaguely aware that someone was beside her, speaking. Slowly, she turned her head, though it was difficult. It felt as though cotton had been forcibly shoved in her mouth.
Her eyes, though half-lidded, took in a tall figure with dark, bloody hair. Or was it just red? She squinted, trying to see, but the color was so peculiar. He was mouthing something, and for a moment she tried to read his lips. Why..please..she couldn't make out the other words. It was too difficult, and she was too tired. Her facial muscles hurt, and the pounding in her head was quite distracting. She tried to speak, but the cotton in her mouth stopped her from producing any sound other than a pained groan. She couldn't hear the sound that she made, but evidently the man did.
If she had opened her eyes, she would have seen him lean down to look at her. She was vaguely aware of the fact that he had taken one of her limp hands in his, but she was so tired.she was finished with fighting. She wanted to drift into that peaceful blackness that only sleep could offer. The throbbing in her head suddenly turned into a dull roar, and she whimpered in the back of her throat.
The roar was a yell, screaming a long, wordless cry that made her want to cover her hands with her ears. Though a moment before she hadn't been moving, now she was kicking and writhing. It hurt so much to move, but she had to.anything to escape the cries! Anything!
Hermione!
Hermione, I've just been told that they're coming now. I'll stay, but you need to go. Please, it's better this way, Harry will be here soon, and I'm to wait. We can't lose you, Hermione! We can risk my life, but you're invaluable.
There were more cries, not just this voice. It was pleasant, but the words were yelled at her and whipped away by a screaming wind. Now there were hoarse shouts, screams, footsteps. The man's voice grew more urgent.
Hermione, this isn't a game anymore! You told me so, you told Harry that we have to be strong! Run, flee, get us more help! Only Harry can face him, that's what the Prophecy said. Go! Now!
Footsteps thundered into her mind, and a new voice spoke as well.
I'm here! Go, both of you. He's coming, he's coming and you need to leave. I'll never forgive myself if either of you are hurt. Please!
Desperation, then she knew she was being dragged away. But the wrong way! No, they were leaving, but why the laughter? They had fallen into a trap, and now she was surrounded, and they were laughing at her. They were laughing.
She opened her eyes with a start, clutching the tall man who was now kneeling beside her. He was crying, she saw, brown eyes black with sorrow. He was hugging her, blood smeared all over his robes. Ron! It was Ron, he was safe, he was fine! She tried to speak, but it felt as though claws were tearing at her throat.
The screaming in her head had stopped, and she knew that it had been someone else, someone close. Now she was alone with her friend, beneath this black sky, and she forced herself to concentrate on what Ron was urgently saying. It was something important, she knew, and painfully pulled herself up to jam her ear against his mouth. He was startled for a moment, but realized that he would just have to speak in this position in order for her to hear. With a peculiar detachment Hermione realized that the blood on Ron's robes was her own. She was crying as well, from the pain, the sadness, the realization that she remembered nothing.
"Oh, God, Hermione, don't leave me, please. Why didn't you come when we told you to? Now, oh, God, Harry! Harry's dead, Hermione, he was killed the same moment You-Kno- Voldemort was defeated. We won, Hermione, but it wasn't worth it. He's dead, our Harry, he's gone, and you can't leave me, please. Please, be okay, help is coming, we'll get you help, but you have to hold on. Hold on!" Ron's voice was an endless wail, and he was crying so hard that she could feel his body convulse as each sob wracked his thin frame. She tried to hug him, but the best she could do was apply a feeble amount of pressure that made him cry harder.
We won.
She allowed herself to rejoice momentarily over this, a sad little smile curving her lips, bloody though they were. It took her a moment to realize what Ron was saying, and the smile fell off of her face the same way a drop of rain falls off of a rose petal.
Harry's gone. Harry's dead. Oh, Ron, I'm so sorry. You loved him just as much as I did. Harry was a hero, but so are you, so are you!
As she turned her head with the last amount of strength she possessed, he supported her. She kissed him softly, a mere wisp of her former self in his arms. Her brown eyes, that once contained such warmth, were already closed, the hevay lashes dark against her pale cheeks. Ron cried quietly, clutching her to him, blood on his lips, his face, his body. He heard a sound like rustling leaves and looked up to see a group of Aurors rushing towards him, but it was too late. With a vision blurred by tears, he watched her fight to speak.
"My hero." She whispered dryly, then shut her eyes, expecting to see black. But there was Harry! Briefly, she tried to return to Ron, but found that she couldn't. She was with Harry now, and his parents, and Neville, and the Weasleys, and all those who had died in the valiant fight to overthrow the Lord of Darkness, Voldemort.
Ron wept as the Aurors pried Hermione's body away from his, and he fell in a sobbing heap on the ground. Someone was talking to him, soothingly, but he heard no words. All he knew was that his best friends were dead, and he was alone. He had been called a hero, but what was a hero without his friends? He would never be able to go on living without them, never. Everyone he had ever cared about was dead. His parents, his siblings, even his owl, gone. But this, this was the worst blow of them all.
He beat the ground with one fist even as he was examined for injuries. "Let me go! LET ME GO!" He demanded, his voice an incessant shriek. He was crying so hard he was blinded, and could taste the blood lingering in his mouth.
"Harry! Hermione!" He called, though he saw nothing but his tears, "I'm coming with you! Don't leave me here. Don't leave me! I want to be with you, anywhere but here. I can't be alone! Not again, not after they all died, too, I'm the only one left. Don't leave me, don't leave me!"
Laughter, somewhere in that back of his mind. Bring them back, it whispered, you have the power to do so. You can accomplish great things, Ronald, great things. The Prophecy told many truths, and now you must fulfill it. You have no choice but to do so, and begin your Reign of Terror. They are watching you, Ronald. They are your friends now. They will never leave you. Let them fill your mind with sweet words, empty, but sweet. You are no longer alone, Ronald. No one will leave you now.