Warnings: character death, prequel/one-shot, suicide
Disclaimer: this is a fan fiction, and no profit is made from this story. The Harry Potter series is written by J.K. Rowling, published by Bloomsbury publishing and Arthur A. Levine books, movies produced by David Heyman.
Stars sparkle in the moonless sky, casting their faint light over the grassy plains. A breath of wind stirs the ground, making the blades dance and sway. The chirps and fluttering of insects is the only sound in the empty land.
At the edge of the plains there is a man. He stands alone, wreathed in darkness, and silent but for the slightest of breaths. A speck of light falls from his face, hitting the ground silently and disappearing without a trace.
Finally, he moves. The starlight shines on his face for an instant, revealing a pair of vivid green eyes glimmering with tears and a blood red scar on his forehead.
He steals across the land, parting the tall grass as he moves. Soon he is gone and the wind breathes across the grass again, erasing the signs of his passage.
The man walks on in silence, even when the plants begin to crunch under his feet and crumble away. Clouds of dust and ash swirl behind him, disturbed by his softly treading feet.
Scorched trucks loom throughout the wanderer's path but he continues on, weaving through the obstructions without pause.
He reaches a clearing. A soft light shines against the ruined forest, revealing a complete absence of life.
The light shines against the man as well. Old black robes streaked with grime drape across his emaciated body, and the tatters at the ends reveal the remains of what must have been a pair of leather shoes; now they are little more than tatters.
He reaches his filthy hands towards the source of light: a beautiful marble tombstone. He stumbles forward, despiration removing much of his strength and collapses against the radiant stone. The darkess of his robes and grey-streaked black hair seemed to make the tomb glow even brighter.
The man started speaking to the stone hoarsely, not caring that there was no one else present.
"Everyone's dead. My friends and family, the ministry, deatheaters, even the muggles... We failed Dumbledore."
He inhaled sharply, then continued.
"I don't know for sure, but I think Voldemort placed a curse on me at some point before I killed him. It made sure that the world would not endure without him… Well, it seems that way. After the final battle, the people surrounding me started becoming weaker. They thought they were just sick, suffering magical exhaustion from the fighting. It wasn't that though, and they just got worse. I tried to help but… I think it probably made things worse. Not very long after, Ginny died and people started to become really concerned."
"Ron was next and everyone continued to get worse. Hermione figured out why, saying that I had a curse on me that stole people's energy. She died before she could attempt to reverse it."
Tears started running down his face and he pushed them away roughly.
"I tried hiding myself away from other people, but it didn't work. Within the next two years, everyone had died. Magical beings were first, but muggles followed along soon after. When people started to realize that everyone was dying, they panicked. Witches and wizards were fighting in the streets, and the muggles must have started to bomb their cities. There is nothing left except ruins and some wilderness, but that is slowly disappearing as well…"
"I…I tried to kill myself, but it only made things worse. Whenever I did, I pulled even more energy from my surroundings as the curse healed. I created dead zones around the world completely devoid of life in the attempt. I don't think that there is enough energy left in the world for me to survive another attempt though."
He ran his fingers down the stone slowly.
"I'm going to kill myself tonight. It's either being alone in this world until everything's dead and I starve to death, or kill myself now."
He sighed quietly, continuing to stroke the stone.
"You probably think that I'm selfish for doing this, and I am. I don't want to be alone anymore. That's why I came here today, hoping your grave would still be here. The last time I saw you, when I fixed your grave… Your body was so perfectly preserved, and it just feels... Well as if you are there if you know what I mean. I don't feel like I would be dying alone."
Drawing a long knife from the sleeve of his robes, he raised the knife over his left wrist.
"I hope that I can see you soon."
With those words, he plunged the knife into his wrist, slicing deep into the flesh then dragging it accross. Blood sprayed out, splattering against the tombstone, staining it crimson red.
The edges of it seemed to heal slightly, but he plunged it in again, and again, and again. When the blood flow started to slow and his skin had lost most of his color, he collapsed against the blood stained tomb. The lids of his eyes slid shut, and he no longer moved.
The light from the tomb disappeared, plunging the clearing into darkness. The ruined forest was completely silent, and so was the world.
Light blossomed across the sky as the sun began to rise. As it began to filter down into the clearing, the marble tomb of Albus Dumbledore burst into flames. The body of the man on top of the grave did not burn, even as the flames grew brighter and brighter and the trees around it burst into flames.
Even as the heat melted the ground beneath the tomb, the man remained. His clothes had long since burned away, leaving him nude in a sea of flames.
Eventually, the heat of the flames rose to the point that the entire earth was engulfed in its heat. The oceans boiled away, the ruins of cities burned, and the rocks slowly began to melt. The earth became a blob of molten materials, materials that even started to evaporate under the extreme heat.
The flames grew even brighter, then the tomb split open. A phoenix emerged from the tomb, feathers glowing with the same brightness as the former stone. The tomb itself fell away, to be destroyed by the flames. The extraordinary bird held the body of the man in his claws as he directed the flame to grow brighter and hotter.
For millenia the bird continued this effort, refusing to molt even as he grew older and less beautiful and reducing the entire universe to the same state as the earth.
Eventually, the bird stopped producing flame. The corpse remained, appearing as though all that time had not passed. The ancient bird closed his eyes and began to sing. Although no sound could be heard, the bird continued to move its beak to the motions of its song.
At the final movement, the body of the man simply disappeared. Thus the phoenix burst into flames once more and the universe imploded, all matter collapsing in on itself.
The phoenix disappeared during this, and only reappeared many years later when life began to emerge in the new universe.
This is the end to this one shot. I may write a sequel to it discussing what happened to Harry Potter at some point.
It is unbetaed, but I tried to read it over.