The End of The World is Here
Harry James Potter-Black; savior of the wizarding world, the chosen one, the boy-who-lived, the-man-who-conquered, The youngest Head Auror ever appointed, the Lord of two prominent household—Father to murdered children, Husband to a murdered wife, The leader and the general of the magicals to another war but not against the late Voldemort or any Dark Lords but—against the muggles.
10 years after the Battle of Hogwarts. The Statue of Secrecy broke. Muggles with their advanced weapons, mercilessly slaughtered every magical kind they ever crossed off. Woman, Man, Old, and the children. He knows Voldemort must be laughing at him but he also knows that he’s raginglike he feels the extension of his anger even if in death. Children were caught to be enslaved, to turn into lab rats. Women are caught to be used and discarded after; they do not want–a devil spawn to be created. They hunted them down and forced some wizards and witches to hide but few who remained in the war retaliated at the muggles. Operation to save the children from slave camps, taking any refugee, helping them. A war that is much more cruel than before. Another war that has taken everything he loved. A war that is still led by Him–Harry Potter. The once beacon of light and hope, faded as the time went by. He’s the last one. The last of his kind. Due to the destruction of the muggles with their nuclear bomb, air raids that were filled with poisons, and pollution. Incurable diseases spread throughout the world. They think it's Mother Magic's last help to her children who suffered–– and what’s more that can lead them to peace? It's not winning the war nor finding a cure for it but—Death; a warmth embrace of death as he lulled them to sleep like how we used to fall asleep at our couches at home and how our parents would take us to bed and tucked us in. Death seemed to be our blanket as we crossed the oblivion towards the so-called light. But it seems to Harry, death seems like a luxury to him he can’t afford.
Numb–Numb–Numb.
That's all he can feel as he sat at the edge of the rooftop watching the beautiful sunset. Tired, and battered clothes adjourning with blood is what seems his state right now. The beautiful green jem eyes before now dimmed as it reflected his soulless being—empty. He hummed what's supposed to be a joyful song that his wife used to sing to his children. His beautiful Ginevra, wears the red as if it was hers and she was beautiful in it. Flaming red hair that seems to reflect the sun as its rages as she protects her children at an ambush. Like a phoenix she was outstandingly gorgeous and unique but alas unlike the phoenix she didn’t rise from ash when they burned her.
“Ginny!!” He screamed wanting to get away from the one who’s holding him back from slaughtering them. He wailed and cried to the brutal death of his wife. “Why?!Why!?” he shouted hysterically, clawing his hands to his face. The anger, the grief, the pain, the sadness all in one took a hold of his magic and—he let go.
106 muggles died in the magical burst he released. Did he regret it? No, he just wished he was conscious and did it by his hands.
The war has taken everything from him and it took too much. His sanity is on the edge. His emotions are buried since the death of his last child that was alive. He’s now hollow. A human that has a vessel with no soul yet can he still be called human? when what it takes of being a human is his mortality? The beauty of life and death that’s what all they call it. Now looking back he still could recall Dumbledore saying ‘Death is just another great adventure’ but Harry disagrees because he can’t die. He tried. He fucking tried. He just can’t die. Is death that too much of a mercy to him? that they forsaken him to be with his family? that he has no purpose anymore? that he was done? but he knows They are not done playing with his life. He still clearly remembered the first time it happened.
“Wh–what?” Harry said as he woke up from a pool of blood after getting caught by hunters as he tried to save the child and take it to safety. With a pained grunt he propped up his elbow and tried to stand. “What? How am I alive?” he murmured, confused at this happening. Just as he tried to stand up again, a figure that seemed to be dancing in the wind along the tree–swayed. Harry looked at the figure with horror and threw up. The disgust and hatred for himself is strong. A figure which seemed to be a child danced with the wind–with a rope hanging around its neck.
The second time comes…
“Harry! They killed Hermione! Mum and Dad!” shouted Ron, eyes filled with rage as it seeps through the room. “I will kill them all!” Ron vowed.
“Ron! What if it’s a trap! No! Wait”
He was caught in an explosion but Ron didn’t make it. Ron bombed a public place and tooked 248 muggles with the explosion. Ron was dead but—Harry breathed again.
6th
“They killed them all, Harry. A public execution. They burned them alive.” Kingsley informed Harry sadly. Harry looked from the map that was laid out in the war room. “Is there any that was burned, one of us?” Harry asked with a steel voice but with a layer of fear. Praying to any gods there is now. “Yes, Draco Malfoy and Astoria Greengrass-Malfoy”
Harry died wanting to get revenge on the 15 magicals they killed. Cause: Loss of blood.
16th
He could just see red. They killed his son. His son. His lovely Albus, dismembered like a pig. How dare they? he seethed. Why are they laughing? celebrating? because of the death of my child? No, I don’t care anymore. They will all pay. I will make them pay. At the 16th time Harry died from magic overflow but–breathed again.
31st
“We caught the leader of the magicks!” a triumphant cheer echoed through the mic. A tortured Harry is seen kneeled, waiting for his execution. They didn’t know his heart had already stopped before they got to the podium. They didn’t know. They are all fools. Naive and fools. On July 30, 2023– a day before his birthday Harry died by burning at the stake.
11:58 pm
11:59 pm
12:00 am
Harry breathed again.
He remembered everything and would not forget as he watched the last destruction of the world. Harry didn’t owe anything to the world. The world owed everything to him. This is it. This is his last. He felt free. He closed his eyes and spread his arms.
“I’m tired, just take me away” he whispered melancholy as he awaits his death ahead. “I want to see my family, take me to them.”
The world burned and took everything in it. On December 13, 2035—the world ended.
Harry woke up and breathed again.