2I do not own Harry Potter and that is probably a good thing.
Harry watched as the sky filled with a writhing mass.
The youth looked on mournfully as what was left of the Earth was plunged into frigid darkness, the light of the sun blocked from view by abominations. Like the shadows of swarming insects, the gloom crept over everything.
Personally, Harry blamed Hagrid for this entire mess. Was it wrong to blame a man who had been viciously torn apart and eaten? Maybe. But if Hagrid had wanted to avoid blame then he shouldn't have created the ever-hungering abominations in the first place.
That was just poor planning on the Half-Giant's part.
Then again, Harry's large friend had always been rather fanatical when it came to monsters, a passion that made it very easy to buy birthday presents for him. Of course, what Ron had been thinking when he gifted Hagrid a book titled Abominable Hybrids and How to Breed Them, Harry had no idea. The youthful Weasley had somehow snagged it in the failed rescue attempt of Sirius in the Department of Mysteries and decided that it would make a marvelous gift for Hagrid.
Harry also had no idea what Newt Scamander had been thinking writing such a book in the first place. Such mysteries would probably remain unsolved until the end of time. A finale that was fast approaching.
Speaking of such an end, Harry looked up to see the vast tentacles descending from the abyssal sky, the twisted appendages faintly glowing with the light of what he could only assume to be devoured souls of the helpless. That must be where Ron had ended up.
He vividly remembered the sight of his friend being dragged, screaming, into the gaping maw of one of the beasts. He could still recall the way the rotating teeth shone with saliva and the scorching breath that reeked of rotting meat and ocean brine. The way Ron's shrieks had choked off into agonizing gurgles was permanently branded onto Harry's mindscape.
And that happened before breakfast even got started, it certainly set the mood for the rest of the day. A day of dripping blood and tearing flesh. Hours spent listening to the screams of children and adults alike, watching the sight of spells bouncing harmlessly off the mottled hide of the creatures, a day spent wondering if surviving was truly worth witnessing the endless nightmare that the world had become.
It was almost awe-inspiring to see how many people decided that the answer to that question was no. Harry had always thought that Neville would go out differently than a short step and a long drop.
But he supposed it didn't matter now. He leaned back against the stones of what used to be Gryffindor Tower before it and the majority of its inhabitants were consumed. It was the end of the world. The end of everything, the lights had already been turned off and everyone left could only wait in the dark for their turn.
Which meant that Harry Potter would be playing a very lonely waiting game. Apparently, his knack for avoiding death was still going strong.
As he waited on a crumbled ruin listening to the mournful wind and the wails of monsters lurking beyond the realm of sight, Harry realized that his friends might have been the lucky ones.
Lucky like Sirius, who was sent beyond the Veil of Death before he could so much as blink, long before Ron even picked up that book about horrors. Lucky like Dumbledore, who was in his office when a tentacle the size of a skyscraper flattened it. Lucky like Luna, killed by falling debris before the true horror began.
Of course, as something vast and ravenous howled in agony and gluttonous want, Harry reasoned he might be one of the unlucky few had just managed to last a bit longer than the rest.
Unlucky like Hermione, trampled to death by students in their frenzy to get away from the creatures. Unlucky like Draco, vivisected by a particularly curious abomination. Unlucky like Lee Jordan, dragged away in a fashion similar to Ron's untimely demise.
Harry briefly wondered if Fred and George were still alive, still sane after seeing friend and family both be wiped out of existence. It would be nice if they were, they could have passed the time just talking.
Talked until the end.
But then he would have had to get up and go look for them. Harry sighed, he did not really want to move, didn't want to do anything, in fact. He was content to sit and watch, wondering if one day that colossal thing in the sky would devour the sun.
An icy wind colder than all the others swept through Harry's hair, causing his flesh to ripple with goosebumps. The breeze smelled faintly of wood smoke, a sign that Harry was not the only survivor left in the gloom. Was that a sign to keep on living? A sign that maybe the world still had hope? That the darkness and the cold and the terror could not last forever?
Or was it just another lie?
Was it a trap designed to install hope back into the heart, only to make death that much more terrifying. A trick played by some infernal deity to make his last moments of Earth seem that much more entertaining. A sign that, no matter how much the abominations devoured and destroyed, some poor soul would be alive to witness the horror and feel the last remnants of their sanity drain away into screaming darkness.
An eye opened in the sky, a gigantic orb of inhuman emotion and voracious desire and Harry knew that the small sign of life, that faint fragrance of warmth, was indeed a lie. Nothing more than an untruth to make his suffering even more potent.
As those tentacles, coated in reeking slime and carnal fluid, coiled around his body like a wet serpent, Harry closed his eyes.
He was overcome by the stench of rotting meat and ocean brine.
Harry smiled, for he was no longer cold.
This little abomination was actually inspired by A Much Deadlier Tournament by NeverGonnaStop. That story is well-written, it is original, it is amazing, and I highly recommend you go check it out. A huge thank you to NeverGonnaStop for giving me permission to play in his sandbox and for helping to edit this story.
Till next time, fellow readers.