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As The World Was Ending

The end of their world came quietly. Despite predictions made of hell on Earth and wanton destruction the end of the world came surprisingly orderly.

There were rumors of course, for even madmen gossip at the best of times. Because there was brilliance in plans carried to fruition; jagged and biting brilliance though it might be, and before it was over many would bleed because of it.

The end of the world came at the end of summer, the turning leaves marking the first hint of change upon the wind.

In an office that was never quite warm enough a worn Minister trailed listless fingers through now useless papers. It was an end of a time, he wistfully thought while knowing quite well he wasn't likely to see what lay next. He thought of his wife, sweet woman that she was, and he hoped the Auror meant to secret her out of the country had made it to France and wondered if that was even far enough. He thought of his father and hoped the old chap would save him a glass of whiskey in the afterlife however over fond he had been of the drink in life. He thought of his cat and hoped the ugly beast would survive on its own from now on. He thought of his creditor and smiled twistedly, galleon-pinching mincer could suck on a lemon for all he cared.

And down below the last of his guard fell, horribly silent and forever still.

The end of the world wasn't announced with a bang and clamor. Rather the end of the world was contained in the span of a second, the time it took for a wand to fall from lifeless fingers and strike the ground uselessly.

In a castle not so far away as some where known to say an old man made older by the day walked nightly through silent halls and knew soon enough what he'd held sacred since a boy would be profaned, sullied by rough touches and malicious minds. He was a man forged stronger from a hundred years of battle, made mythical by deeds and words, and broken when he discovered it was not enough to save all he held dear. It wasn't enough to die and bend, to betray what he was and break what others could be; wasn't enough in the end.

So he walked once more and knew the end of the world was walking near his door; politely arrogant, knowing it could not be denied and all the same sweeping his land gently, taking with it a world that would soon be forgotten.

And finally when he first saw the horrible shadows of crooked smiles and burning eyes, when he saw the specter of a boy never to be forgotten in the horizon he knew the end of the world had come.

And standing on a grassy plane he looked one last time at a castle that was more than a castle, saw more than a building that housed mortal hopes, and turning met ruby eyes that weren't quite human, weren't quite anything he was prepared to understand because in the end he was a man that fought and bleed and never learned what it meant to stab someone in the back. It wasn't treachery he could understand.

And they say the lucky ones died on that field though none that lost their life would ever quite see it that way.

And overlooking the last of her world a woman made stern and worn by a time paved in blood watched the last of her people fall silently. She was a mother without children, a teacher without students, and a warrior without an opponent. From the high window she saw the end of the world and it wasn't in her to forget and forgive. From an office that would never again belong to a wise old man that she loved so dearly she took a wand and in one word burned a book made all the more frightenly precious by the end of the world.

And in her hands she broke a never-ending quill, made the heart of a castle fall silent as the names of children disappeared in ashes. A quill that would never announce the birth of a magical child, never offer another redheaded Weasley to tempt the patience of tutors, never bring a Longbottom out of obscurity, or give a little Granger girl a hand when most needed, or know what an orphaned Potter could have been.

From a high window she drew the runes in blood, offered a life that was meant to protect as fiercely as a lioness would her cub. And as the world ended she hoped her sacrifice would save some of her could-have-been children, save some wide-eyed babes that would never know what her world could have given them.

And as the world ended, faltering blue eyes stared up a gleaming tower; saw the explosion rocket gravel and glass to unwary men and women, saw dust faintly bless his fallen companions. And as the world ended he said only one thing, "Thank you Minerva."

And as the world ended a man made more than mortal by deeds not to be spoken of walked up distantly familiar steps; bloody footprints trailing his wake. As the world ended he opened the castle doors and said only once, "I'm home."

But for some it wasn't quite clear the world was ending. You see it was largely a secret in some rather large circles that the world could end so horribly orderly. For those in the town of Surrey the world ending wasn't in any way part of any plan. They were of course rightly concerned when horrible stories drifted from neighbor to neighbor, unnatural tales never before made real.

It couldn't be true, you see. It wasn't possible because children tales weren't supposed to be corporal, weren't supposed to tear your door down, weren't supposed to make you hurt and bleed and cry and pray to useless deities. Because it wasn't supposed to be like this; life wasn't supposed to slap you and kick you and curse you and torture you. And as the world ended all you would really ask was, "Why?"

And cowering besides a burning car, a woman turned from what was left of her husband, her son pressed to her side and her nephew clutched closely. And she remembered a gentle girl who was once baby and best-friend and sister and stranger but couldn't help but be dead. And her nephew who carried her eyes twisted in her grasp, too small hands now grasping her neck and the top of his cousin's head and at once he screamed, "Leave us alone! Go 'way!"

And as the world was ending he got his wish for the woman laughing not quite right blinked once, frowned in confusion before walking away unsteadily. And as the world was ending the woman got to live, was given another chance to ensure the legacy of another world lived to see this one. Because she was a practical woman, one not given to hopes and dreams and she rightly recognized the world was ending that day, might have already ended for all she knew.

So she hugged her two children close to her and whispered only once, "It'll be all right."

And the boy, solemn eyes having seen much death and destruction in the tattered minutes they'd been given to escape as far way as they could before the madwoman had overtaken them took her hand and said, "Uncle Vernon said we have to leave England."

And looking one last time at the burning cars that littered the street she took one child in each hand and began walking. She didn't know how far she would have to go or what she would do but all she knew was that if the world was indeed ending she would make sure her son and nephew survived to see the next.

Because the world had ended in an office in England; had ended on a field in Scotland, and it wasn't long before the world ended for the United Kingdom. The Isles who had once belonged to Queens and Kings, Lord Protectors and Druids, now were given to a man, whose arrogance wasn't arrogance because all that he promised had indeed come true.

Because the world ended, a baffled Seer having uttered words to no one that might hear, a man and woman having fought and died, another man and woman having gained a much younger nephew, weeks old and unblemished, when his parents were young and stupid enough to believe there wouldn't be consequences.

And some figured the world ending were consequences of deeds buried in a land closed and ruled by a powerful man. Because the Isles belonged to him now, were his to take as the world was ending.

And standing upon a rickety boat, overcrowded and rank with unwashed flesh, a woman held her two boys close, and wondered what the new world would offer.

Because after all, it was a new world.