Aftershock
So here's the first (and one of the only) fic I ever wrote, from about two years ago. AU as of the end of Deathly Hallows, therefore implied SPOILERS. I ended up cutting out the second half of it, because I decided it was not as well written and I didn't need it. You can find the full version on my ff.net account, here (also posted WAY after it was written).
Title: Aftershock
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not J.K. Rowling, don't own Harry Potter, etc. No profit is being made, please don't sue me.
Summary: September 11, 2001, as seen by the wizarding world.
Part One: June 28, 1998; Somewhere in the English countryside
His wand locked with Voldemort’s for the second time in his memory, but this time it would turn out differently. After what felt like hours, but was really only seconds, Harry broke the connection. Voldemort had become too powerful; he was exhausted.
Voldemort shouted, “Avada Kedavra!” once again, and this time, Harry wasn’t fast enough to stop him. This time, he couldn’t protect himself, and neither could his mother’s love. His death was painless, but it was a blow to the wizarding world.
When Rufus Scrimgeour realized this, he turned over the post of Minister of Magic to Lord Voldemort. The wizards and witches known to be members of the Order of the Phoenix were arrested and held, awaiting execution in Azkaban prison. Those Death Eaters still in Azkaban were set free and given important positions in the Ministry.
Part Two: September 11, 2001; 7:15 a.m.; Airport at Boston, Massachusetts
Walking through the airport in Boston, Massachusetts were about forty witches and wizards. All were shabbily dressed and seemed to be anxious about something.
Walking with them were eighteen men and two women, all sporting the same scar on their left forearms, a skull with a snake for a tongue. Just by looking at them one could tell that they were dangerous, and they radiated an aura of power.
“Alastor, we can still escape,” a middle-aged woman whispered to her neighbor, a man with two mismatched eyes.
“No, Minerva,” replied Alastor, also in a whisper. “Don’t you remember what the Dark Lord said? If we even try to escape, he’ll execute all of the muggle-born wizards in England!”
“Yes, but Alastor-”
“No buts, Minerva. We have to do what they say, even if it does mean our deaths.”
“May I cut in?” asked a man whose red hair was turning gray. “Minerva, as much as we my fear what’s about to come, we can’t risk it. Our last hope may be among those wizards. We have to do this.”
“Still, Arthur-”
“And,” added a young woman with bushy brown hair, “I don’t think Harry would have wanted all of those deaths. He wouldn’t want the Order dead, but he definitely wouldn’t have wanted us to allow all of those people to be killed. And what would Dumbledore say?”
The was silence for a moment, and then the young man at her side said, “Yeah. And McGonagall, even if we did manage to escape, we’ve done all we can. It’s in the other’s hands now, the ones in France, and Germany, and America, and the rest of the world. Charlie’s still free, maybe he’ll-” His voice got higher as he kept talking.
“Ron, calm down. You’re attracting attention,” said Arthur. Ron straightened up and looked around. “Anyways,” continued Arthur, “I think we’re here. Ron, Minerva, this is goodbye.”
“I’ll see you-afterwards,” said Ron, unable to say the word.
“Goodbye, Ron,” said Hermione as she hugged him for the last time. Ron held back tears-Draco Malfoy wasn’t going to see him cry!-as he watched ten people board flight #9. He had known these people for at least half of his life: his father, his brothers Fred and George, Hermione Granger, Alastor Moody, and Remus Lupin, among others. Five Death Eaters accompanied him, three of them blond. Ron desperately wanted to strangle the youngest of them, but held back. It would do no good. What was worse, the Death Eaters would apparate away right before the crash.
The remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix continued to their gates and boarded their planes. The next time they met would be in the afterlife.
Title: Aftershock
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not J.K. Rowling, don't own Harry Potter, etc. No profit is being made, please don't sue me.
Summary: September 11, 2001, as seen by the wizarding world.
Part One: June 28, 1998; Somewhere in the English countryside
His wand locked with Voldemort’s for the second time in his memory, but this time it would turn out differently. After what felt like hours, but was really only seconds, Harry broke the connection. Voldemort had become too powerful; he was exhausted.
Voldemort shouted, “Avada Kedavra!” once again, and this time, Harry wasn’t fast enough to stop him. This time, he couldn’t protect himself, and neither could his mother’s love. His death was painless, but it was a blow to the wizarding world.
When Rufus Scrimgeour realized this, he turned over the post of Minister of Magic to Lord Voldemort. The wizards and witches known to be members of the Order of the Phoenix were arrested and held, awaiting execution in Azkaban prison. Those Death Eaters still in Azkaban were set free and given important positions in the Ministry.
Part Two: September 11, 2001; 7:15 a.m.; Airport at Boston, Massachusetts
Walking through the airport in Boston, Massachusetts were about forty witches and wizards. All were shabbily dressed and seemed to be anxious about something.
Walking with them were eighteen men and two women, all sporting the same scar on their left forearms, a skull with a snake for a tongue. Just by looking at them one could tell that they were dangerous, and they radiated an aura of power.
“Alastor, we can still escape,” a middle-aged woman whispered to her neighbor, a man with two mismatched eyes.
“No, Minerva,” replied Alastor, also in a whisper. “Don’t you remember what the Dark Lord said? If we even try to escape, he’ll execute all of the muggle-born wizards in England!”
“Yes, but Alastor-”
“No buts, Minerva. We have to do what they say, even if it does mean our deaths.”
“May I cut in?” asked a man whose red hair was turning gray. “Minerva, as much as we my fear what’s about to come, we can’t risk it. Our last hope may be among those wizards. We have to do this.”
“Still, Arthur-”
“And,” added a young woman with bushy brown hair, “I don’t think Harry would have wanted all of those deaths. He wouldn’t want the Order dead, but he definitely wouldn’t have wanted us to allow all of those people to be killed. And what would Dumbledore say?”
The was silence for a moment, and then the young man at her side said, “Yeah. And McGonagall, even if we did manage to escape, we’ve done all we can. It’s in the other’s hands now, the ones in France, and Germany, and America, and the rest of the world. Charlie’s still free, maybe he’ll-” His voice got higher as he kept talking.
“Ron, calm down. You’re attracting attention,” said Arthur. Ron straightened up and looked around. “Anyways,” continued Arthur, “I think we’re here. Ron, Minerva, this is goodbye.”
“I’ll see you-afterwards,” said Ron, unable to say the word.
“Goodbye, Ron,” said Hermione as she hugged him for the last time. Ron held back tears-Draco Malfoy wasn’t going to see him cry!-as he watched ten people board flight #9. He had known these people for at least half of his life: his father, his brothers Fred and George, Hermione Granger, Alastor Moody, and Remus Lupin, among others. Five Death Eaters accompanied him, three of them blond. Ron desperately wanted to strangle the youngest of them, but held back. It would do no good. What was worse, the Death Eaters would apparate away right before the crash.
The remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix continued to their gates and boarded their planes. The next time they met would be in the afterlife.