Time is a thief

[slayer]

TIME IS A THIEF: AN AU POST POTTER RP
It had been what seemed forever since Harry had been at Hogwarts, but he knew that he had to do this. Dumbledore was counting on him, as was the rest of the Wizarding World. He couldn't let him down. It was his responsibility as the Chosen One to defend them from mayhem like Voldemort. He had an anxious knot in the pit of his stomach, but he knew that he couldn't let his faith waver now.

Dumbledore thought he could do it, and he was certain that if Dumbledore believed in him, then who was he to doubt him? Dumbledore was one of the most powerful wizards in the world.

However, when he had tried to discreetly leave the Weasley's house — but Hermione and Ron knew him too well. They knew that something was wrong, and insisted upon coming with him. He couldn't refuse them. They had been the ones that had helped him destroy all of the horcruxes.

All that was left was to kill Voldemort. He felt that he could do that, so that his children; nieces, and nephews could live in a safer world. He felt that much he owed them, owed himself, owed his friends, his wife, his family.

"Harry, no, you can't!" Hermione protested, clinging tightly to her best friend's arm. "You mustn't, oh, Harry, he'll kill you!" she insisted, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Ron, why aren't you trying to stop him?"

"Because it isn't our choice, Hermione, it's his," Ron said, gently. He prized Hermione's arm from Harry's. "And I think we both know that he's going to do it whether he should or not."

Harry smiled his thanks to Ron before disappearing in the Forbidden Forest.

Hermione clung to Ron's arm. "Do you think he'll be all right?" she whispered, frantically.

"He has to be," Ron insisted, jaw set firmly. He couldn't allow himself to cry in front of her. He was meant to protect her. He pulled Hermione to him into a tight hug, and felt her tears fall hot and numerous upon his shoulder. He only hoped that Harry knew what he was doing. Killing Voldemort wasn't going to be like dueling Malfoy. It would actually require effort.

• • •

A witch held onto the hope that things could be different. She clung to the side of the window, as if begging it for support. Her palms pressed into the cold glass as she gazed longingly outside. "James, do you think he's all right? I do wish that we could see him again."

"I'm sure he's fine, mum," James sighed. "We'd know if he wasn't, right?"

"I suppose so," Ginny murmured softly. "But there are lots of things that can't be determined. You can't simply assume that your father is going to be all right simply because you want him to."

"Or why Severus Snape is one of the people that dad brought back with the resurrection stone," Hugo added irritably from the couch. The Potter's all turned to stare at him incredulously. "Well, it's not like he's a nice person. He actually kicked me out of his class for sneezing and he assigned us so much homework over winter break that I'll likely be thirty before I finish it."

"It's hardly Professor Snape's fault that you waited until the last week of winter break to even start on your work," Rose chimed in. "Besides, he's one of the bravest people that Uncle Harry knew. He had to bring him back."

"Besides Aurora would be so lonely without him," James winked.

"Professor Sinistra, James," Ginny corrected, thwacking him upside the head. "And I can't believe you would call her by her first name."

"Well, we can't call her by her last name, Professor Snape's already been taken," James snickered.

Albus rolled his eyes. "You're all an immature lot of idiots, you know that, right?"

"He's right," Lily agreed. "Daddy's risking his life out there and all you can do is complain about Professor Snape and gossip about his wife. Honestly, what's it to you that he's alive? It's a horrible thing to wish death upon someone."

"All right, all right, pipe down out there," Angelina insisted, walking in arm-and-arm with Fred. "Dinner's ready and your grandmother wants you all to wash up."

"Wash what up?" James asked slyly.

"Don't make me hurt you," Angelina said, narrowing her eyes. The rest of the children laughed as he hastened to obey his aunt before going off on their merry way.

Ginny was jealous of the children, secretly. She wished that she could have such joy and bliss in a situation like this, but she couldn't help but worry over Harry. What if everything went wrong? What if he died? What if Voldemort could come back again, somehow? She wouldn't rest until her husband was safe and home with her. And she most certainly couldn't eat. She knew that it wouldn't help Harry to let herself go, but she couldn't function right now. It was all so terrifying.

Grudgingly, she took her place at the table, pretending to be cheery if only for her children. But she was anxious, and everyone knew it.

• • •

Later that night Remus Lupin was followed by a very grim looking Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Kingsley!" Tonks cried, flying off her chair as soon as he and her husband came through the door. "You look awful. Are you all right? Remus, what's that look for?"

"He's dead?" Sirius asked.

Remus averted his eyes.

Tonks watched the men carefully. "Oh no! This is going to destroy Ginny."

"It can't be helped, she has to know," Remus murmured.

"Was the Dark Lord defeated?"

"No," Remus grimaced.

"I'll do it," Sirius sighed, bitterly. "I'll tell Ginny that he's gone." Without waiting for any objection from the others, he broke off to find Ginny sitting alone at the kitchen table.

"Oh, Sirius, don't tell me, don't tell me he's gone?"

"I'm sorry."

"Oh, Sirius!" Ginny cried out, hugging Harry's godfather tightly. "Oh, Sirius. Merlin, help us all!"

• • •

Two years had passed since the Dark Lord defeated Harry in relative silence. Children grew up, the Ministry started to rebuild the shattered Wizarding World, and things seemed as if they had finally calmed down. People thought that maybe the world was safer and Voldemort was somehow obliterated when Harry was destroyed or at least weakened to the point where he couldn't strike out.

One sunny day in London a little girl saw a fellow dressed in fine French silks. His long red hair flew down his back like a crimson current, and he stood on a bridge, clasped hand in hand with a rather disagreeable looking but beautiful dark haired woman whose raven hair outshone the black that they were both dressed in. "Look, mumma, they look like Victorians." She ran away from her mother before the woman could stop her.

She reached out, grasping at the man's cloak. He turned, ready to snarl, but he found himself looking down at a little girl. "Hello, little girl," he hissed. "Who taught you manners so horrid?"

"Yes, indeed, whom?" chimed in the woman's voice, seemingly sharper than knives.

"I'm sorry," the little girl apologized. "It was just so pretty . . ."

"Oh yes, if I had spent a galleon for every pretty thing that I wanted then I would be penniless. Silly girl, you cannot have what is not yours."

"My apologies," the mother cut in, grabbing her child, and running away with her.

"Them, make it them."

"Are you sure, my love?"

"Just do it, Rodolphus. The Dark Lord said that's how it will start with muggles, and I chose them."

"Very well," Rodolphus drawled, looking bored. "You heard my wife, them. Descend on them." The dementors glided past the Lestranges toward the muggles.

That night, the Wizarding World found out they were very wrong. The time they had stolen in peace, the Dark Lord was spending to rebuild his army and make invincible. They took the Ministry with relative ease. Many were slaughtered including Kingsley Shacklebolt, Nymphadora Lupin, Ginny Potter, Percy Weasley, Bertha Jorkins, and Kevin Entwhistle.

The Dark Lord appointed himself the Minister of Magic, and made plans to make his most loyal servant; Severus Snape the Headmaster. Bellatrix disliked this decision but was promptly silenced and brought into line when Voldemort insisted upon the shame that Lucius and Draco had dismantled the Malfoy's into.

Thankfully, Dumbledore hasn't lost hold on Hogwarts. It's a grim hope, but one that is enough to sustain the morose people that believe in Albus Dumbledore.

The Wizarding World learned all too cruelly that: • • • Time Is a Thief, and the time the was taken from it — it would steal back. The World for muggles and wizards alike is now a dark one, dementor attacks and sightings are frequent, and the promising future that looked so bright all those years ago has been ravished into ruin. The Dark Lord reigns now, and unless someone stands up to him; he always will.