You spent your entire life preparing for the worst. You were top of your class in Defense Against the Dark Arts. You were, again, top of your class as an Auror trainee. You knew you were prepared for whatever life could throw at you. You spent your life preparing for the worst, and you knew you were ready.
You spent years climbing through the ranks at the Ministry. Soon you became Department Head. You knew you deserved it. After all, you were the best of the best. Top among Aurors, who were, in themselves, the top. You spent your life preparing for the worst, and you knew you were ready.
The world became darker, more dangerous after the break-in. The secret was out, so he no longer worked quietly. You became Minister. You took on the burden that your predecessor had failed to carry. You thought you would be better than him. You thought you could handle it. For a while it seemed to work. But then people began to disappear, and you, for the first time you could remember, began to doubt yourself, your ability to do what was expected, what was required of you. You doubted your capacity to hold back the terrible chaos that threatened to envelope your universe along with everything you knew and loved. But you brushed off the apprehension. After all, you spent your life preparing for the worst, and you knew you were ready.
But now, chaos rules. No one knows where they stand today; No one knows where or if they will stand tomorrow. People are frightened; people are terrified. Your world is falling apart while you struggle, as is your duty as Minister, to hold together the pieces. You know you’re failing. You know that the pieces you hold so tightly are slipping away before you, and you will soon be left with nothing but the last ghost-like shards of a memory. You spent your life preparing for the worst, and you thought you were ready.
You were wrong. The worst is here, and you aren’t ready. You aren’t even close to ready. You know that now, as you hear the bangs and yells outside your office, as you see beneath the door the flashes of colored lights, hexes and curses that may or may not have hit their mark. You know now that you have no chance. You never had a chance. No one, not you, not anyone, could have prepared for this. You have no hope left for yourself. You know it will all end today, and soon. The only hope you can still harbor, despite everything, all that has passed, and all that will come, is hope for him. He they called the Chosen One, the Boy-Who-Lived. He who refused, point-blank, to lie to the world. He who could not, or would not, back down when he knew he was in the right, despite the rejection he received for it. You hope that somehow, somehow that determination to do good can save him now. Perhaps, perhaps he can survive. Perhaps he can do more. Maybe, just maybe, he could fix this chaos, this terror, this turmoil that fills your world. Maybe he can do what you could not—pick up the shattered pieces of your universe and carefully weld them back together, weld them into something that is reminiscent of what you used to know.
You hear a shout as someone in the fight outside triumphs. You do not recognize the voice. Despite your training, a shot of panic runs through you. You quell it. Fear of what is to come will do nothing for you. You prepare to fight. Fight for yourself, for your world, for the position you hold and cannot afford to lose, not to them. As your door bursts open and you see your wand, your only weapon, your only defense, fly away from you, you make a resolution, that you vow to yourself to keep, to honor until the very end. You shall not reveal his location. Surely, surely you are capable of that, at least. Surely you can employ those years of preparation to preserve your last hope for the world. Because it is your duty. Because you must. Because if you don’t, the world will fall as he does, because then he, the man who threatens all that you hold dear, shall have no inhibitions, nothing left to fear, to hold him back. Because you cannot bear to watch the world fall all around you, and you know you could not bear it if you helped it fall. You know you would die before you let that happen. You know you probably will. You know you spent your life preparing for this, and you thought, foolishly, that you were ready.
But the worst has come. The worst is here. You know you aren’t ready. You aren’t even close to ready.
But maybe, maybe you can keep your vow, and preserve the world’s last hope. Maybe you are ready enough to do your duty.
Maybe.
Shattered Universe by msk8
Story Notes:
This story is the result of a plot bunny that just randomly occured to me while washing dishes. It started with just the lines you see in the summary.
Chapter Endnotes: More d/a than I usually write, but I still like it. Please drop me a review as you leave.