Another story (sorry folks!) - The Last Battle
Well, I wrote my very first ever fan fiction*. It's Harry Potter / Sandman fic. No sex, no violence, no plot - enjoy.
Title: The Last Battle
Author: Andromeda
Author Email: m31andy@hotmail.com
Keywords: Harry Potter / Sandman
Spoilers: Everything up to Order of the Phoenix
Rated: PG
Short Summary: The last battle, and what Hermione saw.
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter characters are owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. The Sandman characters are owned by Neil Gaiman and DC Comics. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
The battle seemed to have been going on for hours although, Hermione realised, it couldn’t really have been above two. The sun still shone in the sky, which was a rarity these short winter days. It could have been even rarer if Voldemort had had his way. One of his big plans for the battle was to steal the sun so that his dark allies, the vampires, could boost his strength. Hermione had laughed so hard she had nearly been sick when she heard the plan. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had obviously had never paid much attention in basic astronomy. How on earth could he steal the sun, and where on earth would he put a flaming ball of gas eight hundred and sixty-five thousand miles across?! That was about the point where she stopped hesitating when referring to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named as Voldemort. Harry and Ron had not been so sure, which had worried Hermione slightly. But, she mused, even if they got through this their final exams would be the least of their worries.
The challenge had been issued at dawn by one of Voldemort’s agents. Hermione had privately thought that with his big plan failing so spectacularly then the next best thing had been to hold the battle on the shortest day of the year. Hermione was just hoping that the battle would be over by nightfall. The idea of facing an army of the un-dead was unappealing and was making her neck itch.
Hermione shivered and pulled her cloak closer towards her. That was the problem with accepting the other sides’ challenge, she thought. They got to pick the venue and time. She really wished she were somewhere a little warmer, like the North Pole or something. Furthermore, the Alliance had been denied any magic to make it a little more bearable. Dumbledore had warned them with all that with all the magic that was going to be thrown in the battle, it was a bad idea to start combining them.
Not that it was much of a battle. Or at least much of a battle Hermione thought it would be. Sure, there were banners on either side, snapping in the chill wind. The sun was making the gold of the Allies side glow more vividly than the silver of Voldemort’s supporters. Hermione took some irrational comfort in that. Both sides had even had tents up, well behind the front lines, where the Generals from each side were plotting every move. It lent quite a festive air to the proceedings, or at least it should have done. The trouble was that everyone on the field, from the Veelas who supported Voldemort to the giants who had surprisingly had come out in favour of Dumbledore and the Alliance, knew that the battle was really just a duel to the death between the two main protagonists. In the green corner, the dread Lord, the insane and terminally stupid Lord Voldemort and in the red corner the brave, heroic, but also pretty stupid, Harry Potter. If the outcome of the battle didn’t depend on the brave soldiers who were all currently freezing their bits off in the middle of a great big field, then there was a certain reluctance to do any more than necessary until the main event. This had led to a certain amount of posturing and waving wands at the enemy, more out of a desire to become warm than anything else, and Hermione found it sadly lacking.
There had been casualties of course. Sometimes it was personal. Neville Longbottom had fallen early when he had spotted Bellatrix Lestrange walking amongst the troops. Goodness knows what she had been doing there. As one of Voldemort’s right-hand conspirators Hermione would have expected her to be holed up with Voldemort giving him some last minute fashion advice or reminding him which way up his wand went. Surprisingly Neville had managed to kill Lestrange with a well-aimed curse and Hermione had felt a surge of pride in him. However the retaliation had been bloody and there hadn’t been much left of Neville afterwards.
All this empty posturing had left Hermione with little to do so far and so she had spent the last couple of hours eyeing up both the opposition and the Alliance. That’s how she had spotted the girl. She had been wearing black jeans and an off-the-shoulder black top, which had made her stand out from the crowd. Her jet black hair stuck out at all angles from her head, like a Hallowe’en themed dandelion clock. Hermione had shaken her head in disbelief. Not only must the poor girl be freezing to death out here dressed like that, but what on earth was a Muggle doing here!? The girl had wandered the ranks of the Alliance, yet no one had questioned her. She had certainly been in the thick of the little fighting that had been going on. Hermione was sure she had spotted her just before Neville had gone on the attack, standing a little behind him, hands in the pockets of her jeans. Later on there had been another skirmish a little further away and she was sure that the girl had been there too.
Other things had made Hermione suspicious. The girl had vanished from view almost instantly after each engagement, almost as if she had disapparated. But she didn’t seem to carry a wand. She appeared before each skirmish, in the right place, at the right time, as it were. What was she doing there? No one had challenged her, was there some sort of glamour perhaps? But Hermione could see her even if no one else could, and she was puzzled.
Just then another skirmish broke out, this time between supporters of Voldemort and supporters of Voldemort. That was the major problem with being and evil overlord, Hermione chuckled to herself. Your minions were as likely to kill your other minions as kill the enemy. Then she spotted the girl again and stopped laughing. She was stood off to one side, in the thick of the Voldemort army. The fight was over, the fallen were carried off, Hermione looked again and was unsurprised to see that the girl had again disappeared.
Hermione made up her mind. She needed to find Dumbledore and tell him about the girl. She was obviously a spy, casting powerful dark magic in order to gain admittance to the Alliance ranks and take it down from within. Hermione knew she had no answer to this, but was confident Dumbledore would know what to do. She turned and started to make her way back through the ranks of witches and wizards to the Alliance camp.
Just then a trumpet fanfared a challenge behind her. She turned and saw a line of black robed Death eaters marching through the parted ranks of Voldemort’s army. The challenge was met by a blast of trumpets from the Alliance tents and Dumbledore’s, Harry’s, Army parted to let the procession through. Harry and Dumbledore were at the head of the procession. Harry held his head high, although Hermione privately thought he looked a little sick. She sighed. The end was in sight, she wouldn’t have a need to tell Dumbledore about the strange girl or at least, wouldn’t need to for a while. As Hermione turned to go back to her place in the battle line she spotted the black-haired girl again. She was walking straight towards Harry. Hermione instantly thought that the girl was about to assassinate the Alliance’s only hope and without another thought she launched herself out of the safety of the crowd, into the open, her mouth open to scream at Harry.
With her back towards Voldemort’s supporters she didn’t see the pale haired figure, stood next to Voldemort, raise his wand and point it towards her.
She was lying on her back. The pale blue sky looked beautiful from this angle, she thought. Then it was obscured by the pale features of the black haired girl she had been observing all day. The girl offered her hand.
“Here, let me help you up” she said.
Hermione hesitated for a minute and then took the proffered hand.
“Thanks. What just happened?”
“The inevitable” the girl shrugged.
At this point the procession finally drew level with Hermione and the girl. Harry glanced down at the ground, tears already forming in his eyes, but Dumbledore restrained him, shaking his head and indicating to where Voldemort stood waiting. Harry hesitated for a moment and then nodded his head once. A fierce determination glowed in his eyes as he strode onwards without a backwards glance.
Hermione, bewildered, looked down at the spot where Harry had glanced and finally understood.
“Oh” she said and looked up at the girl standing in front of her. For the first time she noticed that the girl wore a large, silver Egyptian ankh on a cord round her neck. “Oh” she said again, more for effect this time.
The girl nodded. “Oh indeed, Hermione.”
“What happened?”
The girl folded her arms and nodded towards the focus of the battlefield. “He did.”
Hermione recognised the tall blonde man. His ferret features and watery blue eyes were far too familiar to her, but try as she might she couldn’t build up any anger for him.
“Oh.”
The girl shrugged. “Things happen. They might happen for the best or they might happen for the worst, but you can’t stop them happening.”
“So you’ve been here to meet me all along?” Hermione asked.
“Amongst others.” The girl shrugged again. “There are many who will need my services today. On both sides. I tend to consider this as a rather wasteful way to figure out who is the bigger bully.”
Hermione opened her mouth to protest that the fight between good and evil could never be wasteful, but she closed it again. It all seemed to be becoming increasingly irrelevant.
“What happens now?” she finally said.
The girl spread her hands in a sort of ‘I don’t know’ gesture. “You come with me. After that is not my business.”
Hermione looked hard at her and then said, distantly, “I have to stay and watch the final battle.”
“Why?”
Hermione glanced towards the two figures at the centre of the battlefield, taking up elaborate heroic poses. The whole battlefield was to bear witness to the final showdown. She finally shook her head and said, “I don’t know.”
“Well then,” said the girl and held out her hand. “Shall we be off?”
And without a backwards glance at the red-headed boy, kneeling in the mud beside the form of a bushy-haired witch, Hermione and the girl walked through the lines and off the battlefield.
FINIS
*Unless you count the Molly/Arthur ficlet I wrote for thesecondwar RPG.
Title: The Last Battle
Author: Andromeda
Author Email: m31andy@hotmail.com
Keywords: Harry Potter / Sandman
Spoilers: Everything up to Order of the Phoenix
Rated: PG
Short Summary: The last battle, and what Hermione saw.
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter characters are owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. The Sandman characters are owned by Neil Gaiman and DC Comics. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
The battle seemed to have been going on for hours although, Hermione realised, it couldn’t really have been above two. The sun still shone in the sky, which was a rarity these short winter days. It could have been even rarer if Voldemort had had his way. One of his big plans for the battle was to steal the sun so that his dark allies, the vampires, could boost his strength. Hermione had laughed so hard she had nearly been sick when she heard the plan. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had obviously had never paid much attention in basic astronomy. How on earth could he steal the sun, and where on earth would he put a flaming ball of gas eight hundred and sixty-five thousand miles across?! That was about the point where she stopped hesitating when referring to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named as Voldemort. Harry and Ron had not been so sure, which had worried Hermione slightly. But, she mused, even if they got through this their final exams would be the least of their worries.
The challenge had been issued at dawn by one of Voldemort’s agents. Hermione had privately thought that with his big plan failing so spectacularly then the next best thing had been to hold the battle on the shortest day of the year. Hermione was just hoping that the battle would be over by nightfall. The idea of facing an army of the un-dead was unappealing and was making her neck itch.
Hermione shivered and pulled her cloak closer towards her. That was the problem with accepting the other sides’ challenge, she thought. They got to pick the venue and time. She really wished she were somewhere a little warmer, like the North Pole or something. Furthermore, the Alliance had been denied any magic to make it a little more bearable. Dumbledore had warned them with all that with all the magic that was going to be thrown in the battle, it was a bad idea to start combining them.
Not that it was much of a battle. Or at least much of a battle Hermione thought it would be. Sure, there were banners on either side, snapping in the chill wind. The sun was making the gold of the Allies side glow more vividly than the silver of Voldemort’s supporters. Hermione took some irrational comfort in that. Both sides had even had tents up, well behind the front lines, where the Generals from each side were plotting every move. It lent quite a festive air to the proceedings, or at least it should have done. The trouble was that everyone on the field, from the Veelas who supported Voldemort to the giants who had surprisingly had come out in favour of Dumbledore and the Alliance, knew that the battle was really just a duel to the death between the two main protagonists. In the green corner, the dread Lord, the insane and terminally stupid Lord Voldemort and in the red corner the brave, heroic, but also pretty stupid, Harry Potter. If the outcome of the battle didn’t depend on the brave soldiers who were all currently freezing their bits off in the middle of a great big field, then there was a certain reluctance to do any more than necessary until the main event. This had led to a certain amount of posturing and waving wands at the enemy, more out of a desire to become warm than anything else, and Hermione found it sadly lacking.
There had been casualties of course. Sometimes it was personal. Neville Longbottom had fallen early when he had spotted Bellatrix Lestrange walking amongst the troops. Goodness knows what she had been doing there. As one of Voldemort’s right-hand conspirators Hermione would have expected her to be holed up with Voldemort giving him some last minute fashion advice or reminding him which way up his wand went. Surprisingly Neville had managed to kill Lestrange with a well-aimed curse and Hermione had felt a surge of pride in him. However the retaliation had been bloody and there hadn’t been much left of Neville afterwards.
All this empty posturing had left Hermione with little to do so far and so she had spent the last couple of hours eyeing up both the opposition and the Alliance. That’s how she had spotted the girl. She had been wearing black jeans and an off-the-shoulder black top, which had made her stand out from the crowd. Her jet black hair stuck out at all angles from her head, like a Hallowe’en themed dandelion clock. Hermione had shaken her head in disbelief. Not only must the poor girl be freezing to death out here dressed like that, but what on earth was a Muggle doing here!? The girl had wandered the ranks of the Alliance, yet no one had questioned her. She had certainly been in the thick of the little fighting that had been going on. Hermione was sure she had spotted her just before Neville had gone on the attack, standing a little behind him, hands in the pockets of her jeans. Later on there had been another skirmish a little further away and she was sure that the girl had been there too.
Other things had made Hermione suspicious. The girl had vanished from view almost instantly after each engagement, almost as if she had disapparated. But she didn’t seem to carry a wand. She appeared before each skirmish, in the right place, at the right time, as it were. What was she doing there? No one had challenged her, was there some sort of glamour perhaps? But Hermione could see her even if no one else could, and she was puzzled.
Just then another skirmish broke out, this time between supporters of Voldemort and supporters of Voldemort. That was the major problem with being and evil overlord, Hermione chuckled to herself. Your minions were as likely to kill your other minions as kill the enemy. Then she spotted the girl again and stopped laughing. She was stood off to one side, in the thick of the Voldemort army. The fight was over, the fallen were carried off, Hermione looked again and was unsurprised to see that the girl had again disappeared.
Hermione made up her mind. She needed to find Dumbledore and tell him about the girl. She was obviously a spy, casting powerful dark magic in order to gain admittance to the Alliance ranks and take it down from within. Hermione knew she had no answer to this, but was confident Dumbledore would know what to do. She turned and started to make her way back through the ranks of witches and wizards to the Alliance camp.
Just then a trumpet fanfared a challenge behind her. She turned and saw a line of black robed Death eaters marching through the parted ranks of Voldemort’s army. The challenge was met by a blast of trumpets from the Alliance tents and Dumbledore’s, Harry’s, Army parted to let the procession through. Harry and Dumbledore were at the head of the procession. Harry held his head high, although Hermione privately thought he looked a little sick. She sighed. The end was in sight, she wouldn’t have a need to tell Dumbledore about the strange girl or at least, wouldn’t need to for a while. As Hermione turned to go back to her place in the battle line she spotted the black-haired girl again. She was walking straight towards Harry. Hermione instantly thought that the girl was about to assassinate the Alliance’s only hope and without another thought she launched herself out of the safety of the crowd, into the open, her mouth open to scream at Harry.
With her back towards Voldemort’s supporters she didn’t see the pale haired figure, stood next to Voldemort, raise his wand and point it towards her.
She was lying on her back. The pale blue sky looked beautiful from this angle, she thought. Then it was obscured by the pale features of the black haired girl she had been observing all day. The girl offered her hand.
“Here, let me help you up” she said.
Hermione hesitated for a minute and then took the proffered hand.
“Thanks. What just happened?”
“The inevitable” the girl shrugged.
At this point the procession finally drew level with Hermione and the girl. Harry glanced down at the ground, tears already forming in his eyes, but Dumbledore restrained him, shaking his head and indicating to where Voldemort stood waiting. Harry hesitated for a moment and then nodded his head once. A fierce determination glowed in his eyes as he strode onwards without a backwards glance.
Hermione, bewildered, looked down at the spot where Harry had glanced and finally understood.
“Oh” she said and looked up at the girl standing in front of her. For the first time she noticed that the girl wore a large, silver Egyptian ankh on a cord round her neck. “Oh” she said again, more for effect this time.
The girl nodded. “Oh indeed, Hermione.”
“What happened?”
The girl folded her arms and nodded towards the focus of the battlefield. “He did.”
Hermione recognised the tall blonde man. His ferret features and watery blue eyes were far too familiar to her, but try as she might she couldn’t build up any anger for him.
“Oh.”
The girl shrugged. “Things happen. They might happen for the best or they might happen for the worst, but you can’t stop them happening.”
“So you’ve been here to meet me all along?” Hermione asked.
“Amongst others.” The girl shrugged again. “There are many who will need my services today. On both sides. I tend to consider this as a rather wasteful way to figure out who is the bigger bully.”
Hermione opened her mouth to protest that the fight between good and evil could never be wasteful, but she closed it again. It all seemed to be becoming increasingly irrelevant.
“What happens now?” she finally said.
The girl spread her hands in a sort of ‘I don’t know’ gesture. “You come with me. After that is not my business.”
Hermione looked hard at her and then said, distantly, “I have to stay and watch the final battle.”
“Why?”
Hermione glanced towards the two figures at the centre of the battlefield, taking up elaborate heroic poses. The whole battlefield was to bear witness to the final showdown. She finally shook her head and said, “I don’t know.”
“Well then,” said the girl and held out her hand. “Shall we be off?”
And without a backwards glance at the red-headed boy, kneeling in the mud beside the form of a bushy-haired witch, Hermione and the girl walked through the lines and off the battlefield.
FINIS
*Unless you count the Molly/Arthur ficlet I wrote for thesecondwar RPG.