Disclaimer: I don't own HP.

There's a prophecy about Harry Potter and Voldemort. Harry just told me. He's really upset about it. He wants to find some alternative to his two choices: becoming a murderer or dying. There's really nothing he can do. I didn't tell him that of course; hope's the only thing that's keeping him going. Harry's convinced that no matter what the prophecy says, the end is still his choice. I don't disagree with him. But what he doesn't realize is that he's already made his choice. Harry's already fought Voldemort. People in the year 2500 have already lived and died. Everything's happened. Everything's done.

You see, most people assume time is linear. It isn't. Time is like last years calendar, with all of the dates checked off and over, put in a blender. Then the pieces are scattered about, and you just pray that your mind grasps the pieces in a somewhat linear fashion. Of course mistakes are sometimes made, often leading to the phenomenon known as déjà vu, but for the most part our minds are pretty accurate at making everything make sense. So, you see, Harry's already fought Voldemort. He just doesn't remember it yet.

You're probably wondering how I know all of this. Well, some people are thrown into the blender with time. They see things, hear things, and know things "before" they occur, or at least before most people remember them. Wizards call these people seers. And there comes a point in every seer's life when they realize that seers' minds are merely the playthings of time, and the incorporeal dimension that we've defined using millennia, years, and seconds is just waiting for that revelation to hit so it can laugh its nonexistent ass off.

My revelation came about six years ago. I was a free-spirited, carefree nine-year-old who occasionally saw events twice. It wasn't bad at all. I would see a man slip on some newt eyes in the potions supply store, and a few seconds later time, would allow me watch the hilarious experience all over again. I got to view the world twice.

However, one particular day, time had something planned for me. I was walking through the forest behind our house looking for some nargles when the world started to spin. This had never happened to me before. There are usually no precursors to visions. You see something once and then, lo-and-behold, you see it again. But it was different that day. I felt queasy and the world stood on end. I fell to my knees as my sight began to blur, a myriad of colors swirling nauseatingly. I tried to close my eyes, but the colors were still there as if they were printed on my eyes.

Eventually the colors began to take shape, though nothing became clear. I could discern blobs that I assumed were a cauldron, a window, and other mundane objects. However, standing in the middle of the entropy of color was a person I could see very clearly: my mother. She was on her knees clawing at her throat. I could hear her gasps for air loudly, as if they were coming from my throat, inside my head and not hers.

"Mother!" I called, attempting to reach her, but the world was viscous and I sank in the swirling floor. "Mummy! Mummy!" I was practically screaming now. Her eyes rolled back, leaving eerie whiteness in place of the irises I was used to. "Mummy!" She couldn't breath. She was slipping away. She started to fall forward. I tried to crawl to her, but I was being pulled away. Her body fell, and as her head made contact with the floor, I woke up.

I of course did what any sane nine-year-old seer would do: I ran to my mother. I had to get to her, to make sure she was alright. I dashed into the house and straight to her lab. I threw the door open in my haste, causing it to bang against the wall.

Mother looked up from her work, startled. I was gasping for air. "What's wrong?" she asked, concern in her voice.

"Are you okay?" I saw her here before me but I still had to ask.

"Of course I'm okay, little Luna." Mother smiled warmly at me. I returned the gesture. Sitting against the wall, I tried to catch my breath, the content smile never leaving my face.

Mother looked at me a moment longer before turning back to her work. Unbeknownst to her, a bottle of some sort of potion was dangerously close to her hand, and when she turned back to her calculations, her hand knocked the precariously placed bottle into the cauldron.

The cauldron bubbled as whatever was in the bottle reacted with the volatile experimental potion in the cauldron. A bright cloud of violet gas rose from the cauldron. Mother tried to back away, but the cloud had already engulfed her. The deadly fog surrounded her, like it was targeting her. I watched in horror as my mother attempted to wave away the toxic fumes, but she was breathing in too much of it. By the time it had dissipated, it had filled her lungs.

It was just like my vision. My mother was choking right before me. I couldn't move; I was reliving everything but this time the room was clear. The world was crisp and I knew this was real. This time when her head hit the floor, I didn't wake up. Instead I heard the crack of her skull and I saw the blood begin to pool around her long, golden hair. I was screaming. I don't know how long I screamed. I felt like I screamed for days.

You see? You can't change time. Everything just happens, and if you try to stop it, you find out that you played a part in the event in the first place.

You know what the odd thing is? Whenever I remember my mother's death, I remember the vision, not the actual event. Or maybe I am remembering the actual event. After all, everything's already happened.