Disclaimer: I'm too young to be Rowling so there is sadly no way Harry Potter is mine…

Placing: Definitely Another Universe, but canon inspired.

Parts of JK Rowling's HP-series and the movies.

Inspired by Whispering Darkness's "Not as Grim as it Seems", Chapter 9. Choices.

I didn't take anything from that chapter, but the idea hit me while reading it.

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THEY WOULD HAVE FOUGHT AS WELL

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"Harry Potter. You have fought valiantly. But you have allowed your friends to die for you, rather than face me yourself."

(Lord Voldemort)

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In the end, it wasn't Harry Potter who inspired them.

In the end, it wasn't Harry who made them fight.

It was their idea.

It was their fight, their decision and their lives at stake.

It was them, not Harry, that brought them in the middle of a war older than themselves.

It was them who decided to take up their wands and fight for their world.

It wasn't Harry, no matter what he believed.

Because unlike somewhere else, they had no Harry to fight a war for them.

They had just themselves - and maybe, that was enough in its own way.

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"You're a genius, Hermione! Really!"

"Actually I'm highly logical, which allows me to look past extraneous detail and perceive clearly that which others overlook!"

(Harry Potter and Hermione Granger)

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Without Harry, Hermione would have fallen first.

But then, she was the first to fight as well.

She was barely twelve years old and in her first year of Hogwarts when she was confronted with danger.

She fought, and fought, and won - or at least survived that day.

"Hey, hey! Mudblood! Is it true? I heard you fought the troll? Were you scared? Did you hide and cry like the good little mudblood you are?"

"Shut up, Malfoy, before I show you personally what I did to that troll."

"Oh! Do you really think you can scare me by hiding behind the teachers like you did when the troll came? That's what you did, isn't it? Cry and hide-"

"Avis! Oppugno!" the spells were said with the calm sureness of someone who survived, of someone who lived through bad things and came out intact on the other side, of someone who found their inner strength and the knowledge that no matter what, they would not falter.

The next time, people would be a lot more cautious approaching her.

Her birds were vicious - and Hermione was worse if you dared her, because unlike other twelve-year-olds, Hermione knew she was strong.

She had survived.

She had been confronted by a troll and came out alive.

Twenty minutes until the teachers found her.

Twenty minutes of evading, praying and fear.

Twenty minutes filled with the knowledge that she was mortal and squishy but yet, strong enough to fight.

Strong enough to live where other people her age would have died.

Twenty minutes with the knowledge that there was nobody in the world she could rely on but herself - and that if she didn't stand up for herself, nobody would.

It was that night, that single Hallowe'en night, that changed her, that shaped her.

Before, she was a little girl, believing in rules, adults and books.

After, she was a young witch knowing that knowledge was a weapon and that abilities meant survival.

It turned her into a scrappy fighter, in the end.

Scrappy - but more dangerous than most others.

"Are you afraid, itsy-bitsy mudblood?"

Hermione's face stayed emotionless.

"Why should I, Bellatrix?" She countered, not even twitching when another slash of Bellatrix's wand carved a second letter into the skin of her arm. "If your Dark Lord hasn't managed to kill me until now, do you really think you will?!"

The other witch's face twisted in rage at that declaration.

More bloody letters followed, one more vicious after the other when Hermione didn't show the desired result.

In the end, Hermione managed to free herself with a knife she had started to keep hidden on her person in her fifth year.

She freed herself and slashed Bellatrix's face before she managed to get hold of the other witch's wand.

"Cor impetum!"

And Hermione watched coldly the other witch go down, clutching her chest, her eyes wide.

A heart attack.

A spell, more dark then light, yet one that Hermione had used before.

It wouldn't kill Bellatrix in the end, but it would further Hermione's reputation.

It would give her a name, make her more than another mudblood and the longer Hermione fought, the more she was known, in the end.

She was dangerous like barely another in a fight, after all.

She was highly intelligent and used her intellect to fight.

She was fast and knowledgeable - old spells, battle magic, potions, poisons, martial arts and muggle weapons - and pretty damn ruthless when she had to be.

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"You're a little scary sometimes, you know that? Brilliant ... but scary."

(Ron Weasley)

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Over the years, she went and turned herself into Undesirable No. Two, a girl who made Death Eaters flee at her sight, a girl who had written her label as muggleborn on her flag, not even caring when Bellatrix carved "Mudblood" into her arm when she was her prisoner once.

Within a few short years, the name "Hermione Granger" was said with the same fear that others talked about Bellatrix Lestrange.

She was the Mudblood.

She was a fighter.

A fighter in a war that started long before her birth.

A fighter in a war she had chosen to fight in - not because she was friends with a black haired, green-eyed boy with glasses, no, she had no friends, but because she was muggleborn and when she had a choice, she couldn't walk away.

She couldn't walk away and nobody else could make her until Voldemort himself stepped in and killed her just to stop her.

She was a fighter - and while she died first, she was also the first who started fighting.

Ultimately, her death didn't matter.

It was the fact that she fought, that did.

She was a fighter, and she fought for the world - and not because a green-eyed boy dragged her into it because they were friends.

No, Hermione was a fighter, Harry or no Harry, and she would have fought anyway.

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"You think the dead we loved truly ever leave us? You think that we don't recall them more clearly in times of great trouble?"

(Albus Dumbledore)

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Without Harry, Ron would have been the last survivor of his family.

He would end up losing them, one after another, to Death Eaters and Voldemort himself.

The twins would die together in the defence of Diagon Alley.

His brother Bill would go down fighting in Gringotts.

Percy would simply vanish after speaking up against corruption.

Charlie would command dragons and fight at their side until a stray spell would ensure that he bled out.

And Ginny would be lost to the Chamber of Secrets.

Ron, on the other hand, Ron was a fighter.

A fighter just like his brothers.

He might have been a brat and a little child in first year, but that would change in second year.

It would change with Ginny's death and the basilisk roaming the halls.

It would change with a single fight.

"I won't let you pass."

"You're just a boy, so tell me, what can you do against me, the man who turned himself into the most feared Dark Lord in history?"

"You were defeated once," Ron countered, not daring to think about the fact that his sister was gone, that this man, who looked more like a boy, had killed her to… for whatever reason. "Lily Potter stopped you once! You're not undefeatable!"

"And you think you have the power to do so?"

And Ron might have been naïve back then, might have believed he had a chance, but over time, he learned.

Back then, he got away with a bad scar down the left side of his face, a dead basilisk and dumb luck.

After, he would fight tooth and nails to ensure what happened would never happen again.

He had been careless and lost his sister, but he would be damned to see another child being taken.

Ron was a soldier, a strategist, a mad man grieving and furious.

"This is their hide-out. Our points of attack are up front and in the back. There are two hidden entrances there and there. I want some of our best fighters there. Just some, we have to ensure they aren't missed at the front."

"Are you sure we can take them, Ron?"

"I have contingencies, if it all goes to hell in a handbasket I will use them, so yes, I am sure."

Ron was a beast when it came to fighting.

He was calm, absolutely ruthless and a strategist like no other.

He was cunning in an absolutely devious way and the leader of armies.

His plans, his cunning mind and ferocity made Death Eaters tremble.

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"'The thing about growing up with Fred and George is that you sort of start thinking anything's possible if you've got enough nerve.'"

(Ginny Weasley)

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He was Undesirable No. Three, the Chess-Master and there was no Death Eater out there who wished to cross wands with him because they all knew that he was never alone and never without a defence and if captured, always without mercy.

"You… you… you… killed them!"

"So?"

"You killed them all! They-"

"They were Death Eaters just like you are, so why should I have shown mercy when they never do the same?"

"But… you're on Dumbledore's side… you don't kill!"

Ron shrugged.

"Well, they don't. I, on the other hand, have seen too many Death Eaters walk free if I keep them alive," then he smiled at his prisoner. "And I'm always up for testing some new painful spells on the survivors - especially if they won't talk."

The Death Eater paled.

"I'll talk! I'LL TALK! Just don't… don't kill me, please!"

Ron shrugged.

"Sure, if you have valuable information for me."

In the end, no matter the information, the Death Eater would end up dead anyway.

Ron was a soldier in a war, a strategist - and he knew when he could show mercy, and this wasn't it.

He was ruthless, he was cold and he fought and fought and fought until a Death Eater finally managed to get in a lucky shot and took him down.

That day he died was a loss to Ron's side - but one to the Dark Lord's as well.

Of fifty Death Eaters, only two would return alive - because Ron was a soldier, and he hadn't needed a Harry to fight.

He would have fought anyway.

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"It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."

(Albus Dumbledore)

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Without Harry, Luna would have been a lonely girl.

She had lost her mother at nine, survived Hogwarts without friends after losing her best friend to the Chamber of Secrets and continued on anyway.

She was Loony Lovegood.

She was the girl always underestimated, never seen, never heard, always forgotten.

She wasn't seen as anybody important.

She wasn't Hermione Granger, the Mudblood, Undesirable No. Two.

She wasn't Ronald Weasley, the Chess-Master, Undesirable No. Three.

She was just a girl, harmless, unseen, unfeared.

"Daddy? Daddy! Where are you?!"

Silence.

"Daddy!"

Silence.

She stepped through the door which looked barely broken and into a hallway splattered with blood.

Her father had been the rebel.

Her father had been the one to speak up against the Death Eaters.

Her father had been the one to resist.

He wrote the Quibbler.

He wrote the truth, cried out every death into the void beyond their home, dragged the deeds of the Dark Lord's forces in the open… and at the end, paid the price for it.

Luna on the other hand, was nothing like her father.

She was no-one, unknown, uninteresting, not feared.

She was just a girl.

A girl who had lost her mother.

A girl who had lost her father.

A girl bullied in school and without friends.

"Are you crying, Loony Lovegood? Crying for your Mummy? For your Daddy? Aw, poor Loony Lovegood! They're not answering you! They're dead!"

She kept her head down, did nothing, turned her eyes away and didn't look, didn't look, didn't look…

She wasn't a fighter, a soldier, an enemy to the Dark Lord.

She was a girl, she was no-one.

And no-one she would stay.

"Who… who are you?"

Blood dripped onto the carpet with every word spoken.

"No-one," she replied, her dreamy eyes seemingly looking into nowhere. "Just a witch."

Then she crooked her head, her eyes wandering up to look at the ceiling.

"But you are part of the Death Eater squad who killed Daddy for daring to print the truth," she said, her dreamy voice softening to a sweet, calm tone. "I think we should talk about that, don't you?"

She was No-One.

Turned herself into No-One, fought as No-One, killed as No-One.

Nobody feared her, but all shuddered and refused to speak her name.

Nobody looked at her twice, but everybody tried to close their doors and keep her out.

"Who… who are you?"

Blood was dripping on the hallway.

Dreamy eyes met fearful once.

"No-one," she replied. "Just a witch."

Then she smiled sweetly.

"But you are the witch who tried to kill Susan Bones. Susan was nice to me, you know? She helped me once when I lost my shoes…"

She was unimportant, uninvolved, forgotten, and yet, everybody shuddered when she passed by.

"There's been another attack, I heard. Macnair didn't make it out alive."

"Another one? Didn't Avery die just last week?"

"Yes, and the Carrow siblings the week before."

"Scary. I heard that even the Death Eaters are getting afraid. I heard they can't pinpoint the culprit."

"Not even You-Know-Who?"

"Don't kid yourself! That… He knows - or if he doesn't he soon will! There's nothing that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named won't find out in the end!"

She wasn't an upfront fighter, but she was creative, unseen and unfeared.

Death Eaters kept harassing her in the streets like they did with anybody else and she ducked and kept out of their way.

"Have you never thought about fighting back?! How can you live like that! How can you let them win!"

"Not everybody is good at fighting, Hermione Granger, for some of us, fighting would mean nothing but a death sentence."

"So you do nothing," Hermione scoffed.

"No-one does," Luna answered, her dreamy eyes looking into the distance. "So why should I?"

Because she was just Luna.

Just poor, little Loony Lovegood.

She wasn't special like Hermione.

She wasn't grieving the way Ron did.

She just wasn't.

She wasn't strong.

She wasn't a strategist.

She wasn't a leader or a fighter or a soldier.

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"Things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end, if not always in the way we expect."

(Luna Lovegood)

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She wasn't dangerous, and yet, more dangerous than many others and while she never made the list of Undesirables, No-One had a list of their own.

She was clever, knew spells that nobody else even remembered and could trap people better than anybody else.

And maybe, someday in the future, she'd die without anybody even noticing, bleeding out after a skirmish nobody but the dead remembered.

Maybe, she'd die, maybe she'd end up forgotten.

But it didn't matter.

It wasn't fame and glory she was fighting for.

It wasn't so that she'd be remembered.

No, she was just one of many, and she was fine with it.

She wasn't a fighter.

She wasn't a Chess-Master or a Mudblood.

She wasn't known to be dangerous and she certainly wasn't like she'd been if there was a Harry.

But that didn't matter, because no matter what, she'd have gone and fought anyway.

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"There are all kinds of courage. It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends."

(Albus Dumbledore)

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Without Harry, Neville's life would have never been the same, and yet the same.

He was a shy boy, a quiet boy, but people would have heaped expectations on him.

Prophecy or no prophecy, poor Neville would have been harassed from all sides.

"Take my hand and I'll show you who the right people are, Longbottom!"

"Er… thanks, Malfoy, but… but my Gran would have my hide if I'd… I'd go anywhere with you…"

Neville would have been awkward, nervous and a stuttering mess.

Whenever people looked for courage, they wouldn't have thought of Neville.

Yes, he would have been in Gryffindor, but he was painfully shy, afraid of his own shadow and nothing at all like his father.

"Oh, Neville! Are you telling me you lost your supply list again? Why can't you just be a bit more like your father?!"

"I'm sorry, Gran."

Neville would have been all that and worse until the day his grandmother died.

And then, the lion awoke.

Yes, Neville, without Harry, would have been a timid child, afraid of his own shadow - of his own, hidden but deep-seated strength.

And then he'd lose his Gran and hell would break loose.

"Retreat! Damn it, idiot, retreat! You won't be able to win against him! Go to the Dark Lord and tell him, he's back!"

"He's but a child-"

"He's the damn Undesirable No. One! Step back and call the Dark Lord!"

Because for all that Neville was timid, he was a lion at heart.

For all he was cautious, he was a strategist in mind.

For all he was a child, he was the strongest weapon the light side had to offer.

"Have you heard about it? Longbottom was seen in London!"

"In London?"

"Shh! Don't say his name! Why are you two even talking about him here where everybody can hear you?!"

"You know, he's not going to come just because you say his name. That's nothing but a damn rumour!"

"Yeah, you must be stupid to believe in something harebrain like that!"

"It's not a damn rumour! I've fucking seen it hap-!"

"Oh, yeah, yeah, you and your damn superstition!"

"It's not-!"

"LONGBOTTOM!"

Silence.

"There! Nothing but superstition! I told you it's not-!"

It was then, that Neville kicked the door in and attacked.

Yes, Neville had been a shy and timid boy, but he wasn't a shy and timid man.

He was strong, he was feared and the Dark Lord's armies fell to his wand and mind.

He, like Ron and Hermione were the edges of the light, the ones that kept the dark at bay for years.

They were ruthless, some said even heartless, fixed on their fights and work.

And Neville, shy, little Neville, turned into the most feared of them all.

No name was given to him.

No word was spoken about him if the Death Eaters could help it and no one wanted to fight him.

"So we finally meet again, Longbottom."

"This is the third time now," Neville agreed, not foolish enough to say the Dark Lord's name but not deferent enough to use one of the other monikers.

"Ready to die, this time around?"

Neville looked back at his forces.

Hermione was gone, had been gone for months now, fallen to the man in front of him.

Ron was gone as well, he had died weeks earlier.

Luna… Luna never fought and had vanished days ago, Neville doubted she would return.

There were others, but there weren't a lot.

Twenty men and women.

Twenty, where once had been thousands.

Gone.

All of them.

They were the last - but they had gone out fighting.

Neville looked back and into the Dark Lord's eyes.

"I am," he agreed, his wand snapping out towards the other man. "But maybe, you are, too."

"Avada Kedavra!"

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"People die everyday... friends... family... Yeah, we lost Harry tonight. But he's here with us, In here. So is Fred... Remus... Tonks... all of them! But they didn't die in vain!"

(Neville Longbottom)

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When Neville had been declared Undesirable No. One, there wasn't a lot he hadn't done by then.

He had murdered in cold blood.

He had killed on the battlefield.

He had sent out his people to suicide missions and he had coordinated attacks with the best strategists to his left and right.

He had turned himself into a fighter, a warrior, a soldier and a leader.

He had squished his guilt, his squeamishness and walked through blood.

He had forced himself to be ruthless until he was and he showed no mercy to his enemies.

He had walked the frontlines, the battlefields and cursed people in their sleep.

He had lived his life, fighting a war that the previous generation had already fought before him.

And he hadn't done it for a green-eyed boy with black hair and glasses.

He hadn't done it for another person, just like he wouldn't die for another person.

He had fought.

And no matter what, he'd had fought anyway.

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"Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure."

(Luna Lovegood)

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Maybe, somewhere was a world like that.

Without Harry, without a saviour - and without the hope of tomorrow.

Maybe, some tragic world had no one to look out for it, had no one to protect it.

Maybe, in that world, the dark would have won.

Maybe in that world, the light would have lost.

But, honestly, did it really matter?

They would have fought as well...

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"I never wanted any of you to die for me."

(Harry Potter)

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Honestly, I was just reading, this time around... and then it suddenly hit me. I blame Whispering Darkness's story. *pouts*

I hope you all like it, even though it's not my usual metier, I think. xD

Ebenbild