Chapter one; The only one alive

"Who are YOU?" said the Caterpillar.

This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, "- I hardly know, sir, just at present- at least I know who I WAS when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then."

Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland
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Imagine being the only person alive.

Imagine, that you were the only one who survived among the seas of people who died and disappeared, muggle and wizards alike.

Imagine living in wild, always doubting whether or not you're the last person on earth, always wondering whether this was a long bizarre dream out of your sick conscious or the harsh cold blow of reality. I wished it was.

The possibilities were endless, whether this was a dream or a hallucination or even my bizarre trip to the land of the dead, this was exactly what happened.
Even my imagination, sometimes as vivid and wild as it was, wasn't wild enough to make up a life like this, a life mixed with raw animalistic fear, and sleepless nights in the forest of Dean, my mind wasn't capable of getting all of these facts right, all of these details, vivid colors and rad animals who trailed me like true predators they were. An ongoing nightmare, relentless and without an ounce of mercy.

I was utterly alone. Quite literally. The only person left on Earth. The. Only. One. Alive.

I know what you're thinking, how do you know that /you're not/ the dead one? Maybe you have died and this is some sort of heaven/ Hell like reality for pricks like you that deserve to suffer alone for eternity?

Then let me tell you, this place isn't heaven. First of all, it doesn't have the right vibe or the right qualities that passed my standards as Heaven, or an eternal Hell and I'm not even considering the climatic aspect of that theory. Second of all, even if this warped up place was heaven or Hell (which it isn't) /I / know that I'm not dead.

In my books, there was virtually, three things that declared an individual alive. Without even one of those factors the person would be dead, well in my eyes anyways.

Breathing.

Bleeding.

The thirst to die.

I was sixty percent alive and thirty nine percent sure that I was probably going to die soon. I kept that one whimsy percent as my other realistic uptake " I was in a magical coma with zero chance of making it out alive" which circled back to the thirty nine percentage.

In short... Fuck.

I sighed and looked around the woods, I've decided to camp up a tree tonight ; after my really close call with a brown bear just that evening, even I had enough self-preservation to feel threatened. Though, thankfully my stealth and experience in wildlife was enough to save my neck. Barely.
As the incident happened just hours ago, I berated myself for not having a wand, and vowed to find one if I lived long enough to survive the bear attack, which now I had.

My wand broke a month after 'the vanishment ' happened. I wasn't even sure that was a real word, but it was the only title that matched any of...these. Plus I wasn't really that bothered to actually look for it in a dictionary.

I survived the bear attack. I'm not trying to be funny, but deep down, even I was rooting for the bear. Poor lost soul.

I survived in general. The bear attack. Apocalypse. I survived the disappearance, while the world was wiped out and I was the /only/ one left. So yes, I was a surviver, as it turned out, and quickly adapted to my new life style with the help of sheer dumb luck, my instincts and education both in Hogwarts and snippets from my muggle life.

It wasn't much, considering that I was living in wild, all by myself, surrendered by deadly planets, vicious killing animals, and had no ability to cooperate in nature in any way whatsoever. I was lucky I have survived a whole year now.

Looking back, it was more luck than anything else. I had everything at my disposal, quite literally, every shop, every grocery store, hell, even the vaults in their banks were all mine now, their houses, their cars, their rabid pets, and my life. All chained together.

Now you're asking ; you just said you live in a forest, then how come you have access to all of those? It was irony more than anything, to be honest.

I lived long enough to find a ghost town, six months after I got tired of randomly wandering around the magical community like a hollow shell of my past self. The town was ironically named joys green though it did not look joyous at all, fifty miles away from the froest's border.

In desperation and looking for other survivors, I jumped with glee and ran into the small town without any preparations, stupidly, hopeful to find 'someone' who was alive like me.

There wasn't. I spent days surveying the houses, stores, the havoc of cars that had all been crammed together, obviously in a huge car accident. literally every place I dared to look for, I wasn't stupid enough to call out for anyone and mistakenly beacon animals to myself, but I was hopeless enough to at least consider how much pain I would endure if I let an animal eat my innards while I was still alive.

Heart broken, I robed the grocery stores and resupplied my water before trudging down to my campsite again, five days after wasting my time in that small town, back to my den.

It has been where I was staying for a whole year, a small den like tent with branches and twigs, weaved with clothes and covered by a huge tree root, cold and moist enough to keep the bugs and spiders away (I hated them) and low enough for any animal to think twice before sneaking in. Though that wouldn't have been a problem, since I had my father's invisibility cloak to thank for, my only grasp of reality, along with the photo album.

I still had my trunk, familiar clothes, and snippets from my friends, vanished, just like the others.

I was freaked out enough to trash their rooms after I found them gone too, I went through their stuff, and picked up their clothes, mostly Ron's, and books and coats and scarves from Hermione.

Their 'vanishment' hit me harder than the others, harder than the rest of my family and even Voldemort's, it stung. It hit me just how real and fatal this situation was, I was at Hogwarts still, panicked and alone only with a dozen of people who were looking for answers, I had had a huge row with my friends one particular night, wallowing in self pity, I stormed out and spent the night in the astronomy tower.

To only never see them again. All of them, all of the last survivors were gone.

That's what I cried for most of the time now. Not the Harry I am now. Not this rad animal I have become, but rather, the naive Harry who had lost everyone and everything in his life. The hopeful Harry, the kind and loving one who could just see the good in everything and everyone.
The Harry I had become wasn't like that. I was savage, cruel and paranoid, I distrusted every living being that was left here with me. Including myself. I was disgusting. I was humanity's best effort.

I thought a lot about the circumstances that came to be my new life, after a while, I figured that it doesn't matter if I'm 'good' or 'bad' or 'light' or 'dark', because there would be no point in categorizing myself when there was no one to compare myself to.

Let me explain ; before the 'vanishment', good and bad had definitions, they both had morals, rules and whatnot and usually never came together.

Now that I had no one to compare myself too, my good could be just as bad as their bad was. Alright, that's a bit complicated. What I meant to say, was that my morals aren't the same as everyone else's were before. My good could basically be their evil, my dark magic could be pure and I wouldn't know because I have nothing to compare myself to anymore.

I wasn't just an individual anymore. I was /the/ individual.

Changing was the crucial part of my evolution, at first, when I tried to fight it, I decided that I should stay at the castle and try to find a solution like 'good old Harry' would.

I stayed there for months, hoping that they come back, tried to look for answers, I nearly starved since there was nothing to eat, everything had vanished, and my only supply were left over candies and scraps I could hunt from the forest. For months, I lived on by candies and spiders. That's one of the reasons why I'm probably classified as a horrible person, I ate arachnids when I ran out of food to eat. Not only out of desperation, but one of desire.
I didn't have the heart to kill, but I ordered snakes to hunt them for me.

Then like the freak I was, I roasted them and swallowed them whole. There was no meat left, everything had gone stale and I had put enough magic into my research that I had no magic left for reserving spells. It was too late anyway, all of them had expired. Even the vegetables were rotten. So I ate them all. Often alive because I had no will left and no magic to create fire. Then, when the spiders and mice figured out my dirty little trick and ran away, I ate the snakes.

Yes, you can call me a manipulative murderer. You can tell me that's what I deserved for killing poor defenseless creatures and eating them up. But that's why I cried, I did the bad things, ordered someone else to do the dirty work for me and then I cried.

Though, some times I wondered, what would be the difference between me and a normal person who ate meat. That was murder too, wasn't it? No it wasn't. It just wasn't the same.

Anyways... During that time, I ventured a lot.

The forbidden forest wasn't as creepy as it was before, seeing that there wasn't any danger lurking around anymore, but I almost wished it was. The deadly silence surrendering the area, settling around like a heavy fog, slowly drove me insane, to a point that I loudly screamed and yelled every time it overwhelmed me, just so I could stifle the silence. That was before I lost my voice (long story)

Out of impulse, and tired of my life, I trashed the castle, took everything useful I could find, and walked out of Hogwarts. Just like that.

I shook my head again, and narrowed my eyes, tightening Hermione's light blue scarf around my neck. It was one of the few left that still smelled like her, after living off their clothes and stuff, they didn't seem like theirs anymore and it bothered me to an extent. I would have felt guilty for stealing from them, but then I reminded myself that it wouldn't have mattered to them anyway. Hermione probably would have been proud knowing I slept warm at nights.

Besides they reminded me that my former life was real, that they really existed and that I wasn't originally the only human alive on earth, that I didn't just made them up. Now that they were nearly gone, I felt like I was drifting away too.

I found a tree, right near the creak (no clean water, it was clogged with something's corpse) , by then the sun had gone down and crickets were throwing a fit, I fussed over myself at the thought of those nasty creatures bothering my sleep up in the tree, but tackled it down.

You have probably figured my obvious disgust of insects was unnecessary and quite Malfoy like. Aside from the fact that I feasted from one of their species for almost five months. But It wasn't like there was anyone here to complain to, or that I had magic to protect myself from them, I was all by myself, I only had myself to rely on, to save. And those poor creatures were the one who should be scared anyway, I was the filthy human. They were just born that way.

Quickly I set my trunk in its hiding place and took out my makeshift sleeping bag and the flickering flashlight.

Although I had the comfort, or rather the guilt of having my own bed at Hogwarts, the nights in the woods weren't any better, the first few nights I spent here, I started to earnestly cry again, in a fit of hysteria, I suddenly realized that, that was it. I was the only person in the world, the only one left.

The concept sounded more like an apocalyptic movie Dudley used to watch than my new miserable life. The thought was /huge/, just the wisp of it made me want to crumble down and never get up again.

The world population, before the vanishment, was roughly around seven billion or so, increasingly rising to the top. The united Kingdom's population was last around sixty or so million, the world... The earth, with five continents, one hundred and ninety five countries, seven oceans and whatnot... The life, I have come to know was flooding with people, technology, knowledge, /evolving/, changing for the better or for the worst.

Then all of a sudden. There wasn't. There wasn't seven billion people roaming the face of the earth, there wasn't a single humane left out of that sixty million people aside from me in United Kingdoms. continents were empty grounds, maps were meaningless, there were no borders, no countries as far as I knew, no technology if there wasn't any electricity, no clean running water if there wasn't any power and of course no food if there wasn't any farmers.

It seemed, that in a span of two weeks, the wheel of life had stopped spinning, whirling everyone else out except me. Poor Harry Potter, the boy who lived.
In only two weeks the earth was wiped out of humans. Wizards were the last to go, the muggles were out the first five days, all of them, as the magical community was desperately trying to find answers.

Anything, a spell, curse, solution, even Voldemort was willing to help. But then there was no one to help anymore. By the last three days, me and a few Gryffindors along with Mcgonagal were left.

The next morning, I was all by myself.

Sighing, I stealthy hauled my stuff over the craft made leverage I had made with a blue snowboard I had found in 'joyous sports supply store' earlier that month? And fastened the ropes around my back.

Once the board was safely on my back with my emergency backpack, sleeping bag, and the flashlight was in my mouth, I dared to start climbing the gigantic tree. My eyes idly on the setting sun.

I haven't been keeping up with time, or date or whatever, not in the real sense of the word anyway. For me it was merely another day to run from rad animals, look for survivors or drown in despair, each day was usually the same, except for today that I was jumped on by a giant brown bear. A very angry bear, that I eventually shot with an unused rifle I had found on my raid. Normally a whimsy riffle wouldn't have killed a bear like that, but I suspected accidental magic had something to do with it.

Good thing that the thing was loaded, and ready for use, or I would have been screwed. I had no idea what kind of rifle it was, or how to even use it, the only thing I knew was my instincts telling me to pick up the gun and a box of bullets set nearby in the empty weaponry store. It seemed to pay off though, the poor sod was dead as I landed a second shot at his head, completely by accident.

The sound wasn't that loud, I admit that much, but for me it was deafening, my hands were shaking and my ears were still ringing, I had never killed before. Not an animal at any rate, so I just sat there and watched the poor animal lie still on the ground in a pool of its own blood for what seemed like hours.
I lied again. I was a killer back at Hogwarts. But I didn't want to be one after I decided to start anew. Keep up people, I had redeemed myself since then. Still I was a horrible person and cried like a baby.

After I was over my sassy hysteria, my animal side took over and I fetched out a sharp looking rock to attack the thing with. It was a big kill, the bear was huge and I wasn't even sure it was dead anyway, even though I splattered its brain out didn't mean it was dead yet.

I didn't take much, just the small part of his abdominal muscles, I knew was the softest and the fur that came with it. I already had supplies and food, the bear stunt I pulled was just a double check, or my caveman side finally taking over.

I got rid of it.

Originally, I wanted to clean it out and cook it, it had been ages since I had eaten meat, and the sight as nauseating as it was, was also very delicious looking. But then my conscious didn't agree, and I had to get rid of the thing and unloaded the rifle.

When I successfully climbed the tree that evening, I settled on one of the higher and thicker branches, relieved that I didn't fear heights as much as I did when I was a child, I was a seeker for merlin's sake, if anything I craved to be up on a tree more than hiding under the ground, the breeze ruffled my hair as I carefully detached the snow board and maneuvered the sleeping bag under my bum, good thing I was so thin too, otherwise merlin knew where would I be spending my days. I would've been devoured the first week in wild.

The Dursleys never bothered to feed me much in the first place, Mrs. Weasley tried but all of that effort went down the drain when they were gone too. It wasn't a matter of starving, there was food, there was food everywhere for those who knew where to look for, I just didn't feel like eating as much these days, my average meal was a canned peach (my favorite) that lasted me about two days and I had a ton of those things in my den.

I slipped in the bag and pulled the zipper right up to my chin, my hands were out though and I secured the ropes around myself and the tree, tightening my knots so I wouldn't fall off to my death in my sleep.

As originally suspected, I heard animals shuffling beneath me a good portion of the night, roughly before midnight, I was glad that I had thought of sleeping up a tree.

The starry night above didn't hold any enthusiasm for me, the sky was more clearer than I had seen it before the vanishment, since there wasn't any pollution or chemicals poisoning the earth, the air was clear and the sky was a deep shade of black, I hated it.

They all reminded me of Sirius, specially the stupid constellation right above my head, Sirius, my perished godfather taught me how to distinguish each of them, told me their names, showed me the dog constellation, and then died not only two months later as he was pushed into a veil by his mad crackpot cousin.

My heart clenched and my breathing sped up, I felt so lonely. The night, the sky above me, and the herd of animals beneath me just reminded me of how utterly alone I was.

This is how most of my nights went, as the sun went down for the day, so did my confident survival instincts, as the night swished in, I was back to the wimpy frail kid I really was. All alone, in a forest, shivering from cold and fear, with no one to turn to.

It has been so long since I had talked out loud, even to myself in my own misery, I doubted that my voice even worked anymore, earlier when the mama bear attacked me I couldn't even wait around to yell, like a deer caught in headlight I just ran for my life, unable to utter a word or make a voice.

Even when the thing almost had its fangs down my neck, I didn't yell. With the thought of mama bear, I pursed my lips, happy for the distraction and leaned my head back to the rough trunk behind.

I feared sleep, if there was anything scarier than my appearances or the killer animals out for my blood, it was the dreams that plagued my mind. That was when I screamed, well not scream, more like silent yells of suffering. And man, did I scream like a bitch at nights, it was a miracle that no one (meaning animals) hadn't found me until now, my accidental magic was a big factor though, my magic had been tainted, unused for so long that silencing my own screams was like a piece of cake, that's why I needed a wand.

My body needed an outlet, it felt stuffed and full, my magic needed out and I didn't have the guts to do it manually. So it had to be the wand.

I pulled my hands away from my face and snuggled deep in my bag, knowing that I should sleep at one point or else I wouldn't wake up soon enough tomorrow.
The thing I said with not keeping up with dates was kinda bullshit, I did keep up with it when I had the time staying sane, I knew that tomorrow was my birthday, my sixteenth birthday to be exact.

Tomorrow would officially be the day my life went down the drain, my one year anniversary as the only person who was alive. I winced, I actually preferred the bear to eat me now that I think about it.

As promised earlier, tears started leaking out of my eyes like droplets of rain, just like last night and the night before that.
My sobs were soundless. I felt like I wanted to chock on my own sobs when I figured that... Just like last night, I couldn't remember some of their faces. I couldn't remember my own friends or family.

Breathing? Check

Bleeding? I make sure of it. I thought and dug my nails hard in my wrist to draw blood.

Still want to die? Every fucking second I breathed.

My glasses were folded and tucked above my head and my eyes drooped, red rimmed and pathetic. The faint scent of old parchment and vanilla, the smell of Hermione was the last thing that I carried with myself to the realm of dreams.

Morbid as they were.

Chapter two; Merry unbirthday

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Mad Hatter:"Why is a raven like a writing-desk?"�

"Have you guessed the riddle yet?" the Hatter said, turning to Alice again.

"No, I give it up," Alice replied: "What's the answer?"

"I haven't the slightest idea."� said the Hatter

_Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

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I woke up disoriented. remembering a weird phrase from Alice in Wonderland, a book that Hermione adored and thus subjected both me and Ron to endure it along with her and the animated adaptation. Many times.

Pretty much every time we went to her place.

I remembered, mad hatter talking to Alice about celebrating their unbirthdays, which turned out to be every day except for the actual birthday. I distantly recalled the March hare or whatever it's name was, singing the song ;

A merry unbirthday to you.

I opened my eyes to the blazing sun shining directly in my eyes and winced. I had overslept.

Resigned and still a little sleepy, I loosened the ropes around the sleeping bag and stretched out my stiff legs from their dry position.

With bleary eyes, I gathered up my stuff and snooped down my shoulder, listening with caution. There was no suspicious shuffling or animal growling, they were either gone or still asleep, waiting for me down in the den.

Silently cursing I tested my theory by throwing down my backpack down to the ground, wincing as the thing face planted on my roof and broke down a root or two in its way.

Still no sound. As I trusted my instinct to save my neck, and vaguely prayed that I wasn't climbing down to my death, I slowly started climbing down, noting that my hair was itchy. Damn, there must be something in it.

I gnawed as I resisted the urge to let go of the trunk and ruffle my hair. I was fifty feet up the ground for merlin's sake!

Shuddering in disgust I jumped down the last few feet with bent over knees, experience showed that bent knees had less chance of breaking, and broken legs was the last thing I needed with a feral wild animal coming for revenge of mama bear and try to swallow me whole.

After my usual morning routine, and after making sure that no revenge was about to come today, I cleaned out my hair with my whimsy water supply, wincing in disgust as insects rushed out of a mop I called my hair and ran along my neck and back, it made my skin crawl like crazy.

After that, I decided that, first, I should find a different sleeping place, or tree in my case, and two, I should definitely get rid of the hair, it was longer now and it was getting on my nerves.

It almost reached my chin, still as unruly and as messy as ever. And I had enough of bugs crawling around in my hair all night. That was a big 'No No'.

I didn't have any scissors to do the job and be done with it quickly and frankly, I didn't trust myself enough to do it with a knife, so it had to stay for now.
My stomach rumbled and I winced.

Call it cruelty or exaggeration, but I actually had the guts to think about the meat I hunted yesterday, I actually /wondered/ if there was any left overnight , or did it rot over night? Maybe some strays caught the smell of blood and finished it off?

In any case, I tried to gulp down the strange craving, knowing that I hadn't had any meat, in about eight months now, and I didn't care for making a fire or anything like that to attract attention.

Even though my baby rifle was with me and I wasn't that up against the idea of being eaten.

My stomach growled again in agreement but I overruled my conscious, not only it was morally wrong, it was also foolish.

What would happen if I get sick? Or return back and eat off the animal /I killed/ only to be eaten by another animal in the wild?

For a animal loving person, I felt very sympathetic towards the bear as I should've have felt about my own hunger and cravings. The poor bear that I killed, on my unbirthday, was exactly the evident reason why humans can't have good things. And how fast the table turns.

If the vanishment hadn't happened, I would bet you the rifle, that I would be one of those guys in animal protection rights protests. Seriously I would, in fact if the vanishment hadn't happened, I wouldn't even know what a rifle would look like, much less use it to shoot things with.

Naturally I wouldn't need a rifle in the first place since I had my wand. A wizard had no needs for muggle weapons such as that one. A muggle also didn't need to refill their water supply by ascending a hideous two hours walk to the village, or the five hours one to the river, even if I had ran all the way every time.

I quieted my chaotic thoughts and packed my things for the day, popping an Oreo in my mouth as I swung my beaten up backpack on my shoulder.

I would walk around my area every morning, it was more of a habit than a necessity, but it calmed me down, and there was no point lounging around the den anyway, I needed exercise, to shake off the stiffness in my legs and also a good winding was never unwelcome.

The first few months that I wandered aimlessly around the forest, was by far the hardest for me, I didn't know /anything/ about wildlife, the closest I had came to nature before the vanishment was the blurry camping trip with Hermione's parents to this very forest, like three years ago.

And even then I had everything at my disposal; as kids we weren't entitled to do anything anyway, so I wasn't overly concerned with survival tactics in the wilderness. But that wasn't the point.

I intended to steal a tent from one of the stores a few months back, before I had anywhere stable to sleep in and call my own, but found the idea very disturbing for some reason.

The moral of stealing was wrong for me, even though they wouldn't care anyway, if anything, they would be happy to see me trying my hardest to survive by stealing a tent or living in someone else's house instead of the wild, but I just found myself fainting when ever I even thought about it.

Aside from the food, stealing things___It made it real. Everything, from the disappearance, to my abysmal life, not that it had been such a fantasy up until then, but still, I think I deserved to channel my wildlife style as the last human left on earth.

After my usual jog around the den, I decided that I definitely needed water and a pair of scissors, though still, I wasn't that kin on chopping my hair off with a pair of those. Scissors were perhaps the most evil object on the world to any left handed person on the planet... Which was only me now by the way... But still.

Even after everything, I found it hilarious that I couldn't use everyday life objects as easily as any other person would in my situation, scissors, can opener, you name it... Even my rifle was hard to handle and I just start working with it yesterday.

Hair cut aside, I only had two choices for my water supplement; one was the river that was like five hours away from here and I would lose the whole day if I decided to go that way... The other was joy's green.

Yeah, remember the ironic ghost town that didn't look joyous in the slightest? That was the one.

It had three big markets scattered across the town, all filled to the brim with expiring, or already expired products, but the bottled water? They were the treasure. It never occurred to me to fill up myself on those before I left the town to build my own in the forest, and I can never build up the nerve to do so now, because I felt like I needed the trip every now and then, it made me feel a little more normal per usual.

My stomach rumbled after the first thirty minutes, when I was just near the edge of the woods, the trees softly bleeding into man made roads and civilization. I decided to take a minute off and enjoy the view. Something I didn't do often because it left me hollow and depressed, but the morning was truly_ ironically_ beautiful.

It was unusual. To feel good. So early in the morning, or at all. It felt refreshing and I was about to juice out every minute out of it.
The wind blew and the leaves shuffled madly above my head, the sound of the leaves rustling and the smell of fresh grass and sunshine made me want to smile. Almost though. Almost made me want to smile.

I arrived at the store three hours later with a limp. My trainers were beat, they had holes in them, were torn in several places, and I had the feeling that the edge was actually bitten off, thus small rocks assaulted my skin with rashes and ugly long scratches, hence the limp. I had to pick up a new pair today.

I usually packed light on grocery days, mostly had some Pop tarts (already expired. They don't taste different, in case you were wondering. ) in there with a bottle of water, my flashlight, a kitchen knife and blanket, and of course mama bear.

That's what I decided to call the rifle.

In the honor of mama bear.

The store was exactly as I had left it, untouched, maybe a little bit moldy and smelled of rotten food, swarms of rats and roaches squeaking and cackling over the rotten food. I never understood why they did that, the maggots were obviously the winner, having already digested the goods.

But I was even smarter than them.

Seeing as I wasn't a total dolt, I had packed away all of the water bottles and soda cans in an empty cooler right back in the storage room. Cans and all of the cherished products such as toothbrush, soups, and shampoos were also lined up next to the cooler on a beaten up shelf amongst other things.

I felt like I was playing house as I picked up a basket, shook off the rats and ventured to the back of my storage, still filled up to the rim, full of treats and supplies.
First I picked a new toothbrush since I lost mine yesterday in the chase.

funnily enough you would think post apocalypse Harry wouldn't give a shit about brushing his teeth, but I obsessively cared about my personal hygiene. Aside from the hair, I took a bath or cleaned myself up whenever I could, and obsessively tried to keep my sleeping place free of filth. I don't know why, but somehow it made me feel more humane, that simple task of brushing my teeth calmed me down more down a potion ever could.

Laugh at me all you want, but I picked up a black one in the spite of myself, you see, darker colors are naturally harder to find, specially in the woods or at night, so normally I would pick neon colored ones with flashy designs so I wouldn't have any trouble. To hell with it, if I wanted to mess with myself every night that was on me.

I stuffed cans and enough water to last me another month, I had food back at the den, but I felt better carrying them in my bag.

After I finished shopping, I decided that yes... It's time for a new pair of shoes, I was reluctant, this was one of my favorite pairs, mama bear seemed to think that too, she had chewed it up pretty well.

Before I could get out of the store my eyes caught a dust covered shelf, devoid of any kind of parasites or insects, just to my right, stacked with notebooks. Something drew me in, as I made my way to the section. Why should I need one?

I told myself, that a journal was probably a good idea, in fact, it could be some sort of therapy crap to cope with everything and a half made manual instruction into surviving this hell.

Without wasting another thought I crammed several thick journals into my bag, included some pens and a black pencil and got out of there as soon as I could.
The sun beat me down all the way to the next store, the last one didn't have shoes, and I was desperately needing a pair.

I decided what I should write on that journal, I thought about what I would say. Should I start from the beginning? What was my beginning? Before they all disappeared, or maybe after I figured that they weren't coming back?

That's what I'm writing in it now, I decided to start from yesterday, cause that was a new beginning right? Besides, who would want to read about my disgusting melt down back at Hogwarts? Where I ( supposedly the last person on earth) was reduced into eating alive living beings?

So this is it. My journal that you are reading now, whether you read them after I'm dead, or read them while I'm sitting next to you and squirm in shame ; Fuck you.

There. I got it out of my chest. First off, how the hell are you reading it if I'm dead? As far as I was concerned I was the last of my species. And second, if you're alive and I haven't found you yet; Fuck you again. For tricking me and leaving me alone, even though you might not even know me.

You left me alone to live in the wild, to be reduced into a coward and eat insects so I wouldn't starve. You could've saved me. I don't know how but you could have. We could've been together at least...

I don't even know why I keep on hoping on this shit, maybe I wanted to make myself feel better. It worked, at any rate. I already felt better insulting you.
Two. If you're an alien and you're reading this ; Fuck you too.

I had given this a lot of thought, as I have told you before, if it wasn't a dream, a curse or a spell or God simply pissing on me, then it must be aliens.

Aliens. Human's every excuse for not knowing a solution to a problem. Seen strange lights? Aliens. Your can opener starts spinning without a valid reason? To hell with magnetic fields, it's the motherfucking aliens.

Seen saucers up in the sky? Forget witches and wizards and charms. It's the aliens.

I decided, that seeing as I was also a human, that I should as well blame this on them, what were they going to say about it? Abduct me and then hold me prisoner? At least then I would belong in a civilization.

So if it's you, with your bulged head and one yellow eye in the middle of your face/head, then I hope you got my message, I wrote another one in French too, in case you guys don't speak English. I don't know why, but you might be able to read that. French sounds like a good international language.

Anyways... Aside from all that alien crap, if you're reading this and intend on carrying on the task until you get tired or kill yourself. Then you should know a few things.

I am not a reliable source for information. My mind's a warped up place, I live on by scraps not because I have to, but because I want to. My survival is my number one priority but self destruct goes even higher than that. To hell with everything else. Don't trust me, you will regret it later.

Second to last. If you haven't already seen, or read, yet, one, you're blond, and two, I have a loose mouth. I Didn't before, but I do now. I might not mean what I say, but I sure as hell say it anyway. Maybe I will apologize later, maybe I won't. I don't give a shit.

Last but not least, I am not some righteous hero who would pick up his sword and save the day. This story, even if I can call it that, doesn't have a happy ending, or maybe it does, but I don't know it yet. Things wouldn't end happily ever after, but I can't guarantee if things wouldn't get better either.

Damn, I already felt better writing all this.

Back to the town, I marched up right to the clothing store and tore my filthy ones off my back, all of them except my scarf. I wasn't one to switch clothes often, sure I had all of the things in the world at my disposal, I had an eternity of clothes to wear on without laundry, but I held my clothes above all that and did laundry like a normal person. By the river. With my own shampoo. And then hung them up the branches.

After I picked up my bag back off the ground, I was a changed man, changed into new clothes and my aching feet were in comfortable and warm footwear, I couldn't be more happy. If it wasn't my damn birthday I would have smiled.

I was halfway through the way, when I remembered that I forgot to pick up a pair of scissors at the store. You never knew when one turned out to be designed for left handed people.

I looked at the sun and squinted a bit, I still had time to run pretty quick and grab a few things without getting stuck in the town for the night, though I still had to rebuild my tent for use. Still, I couldn't stay with the hair.

Sorely glad that I had unloaded the rifle, I bumped my way back onto the main square, ran to the sidewalks and tagged along the walls back to my destination. I tried it out with half closed eyes since I hated to be in the town... Village... Whatever... I hated seeing them closed and abandoned.

To shit with night terrors, I couldn't spend the night in a place like this. The very definition of a ghost town.

The sun was close to setting when I got my scissors and turned to run back out of the town. Figures that damn store didn't have shit for left handed people. Out of all of the fifty five scissors, all of them were righties.

I picked a sharp looking one and got on my way, scolding myself for wasting time actually looking through the stack.

Human or no human, I had no intentions of chopping off one side of my head along with my hair. Long, I could live with, uneven? It irritated me.

My rifle bounced on my back and my shoulders were aching with the weight, panting as I maneuvered my way through the car dump. Or as you may know it ; the main street.

I was shocked that none of the vehicles seemed to explode or start some huge wildfire with the amount of gasoline they had in their bunks. Car dump. I wrote it as my second suicide option. It would be a quick death, specially if I was in the car.

As I was fantasizing about my suicide, I gazed over at the darkening sky and blinked.

I saw it then.

A trail of smoke rising from one of the chimneys far right back in town. For one insane moment, I thought that maybe it was the aliens (yeah, laugh at me alright) but then my mind tried to take over.

It must have been some animal, causing a fire. But how? There was no power, no gas. How the hell were they able to start a fire or light up the hearth?

My heart was beating wildly, before I knew it my rifle was in my hands, with shaking hands I loaded mama bear and started to take off to the house. My pupils had dilated behind my round rimmed glasses, I was coated in my own sweat as I was sure that I was either walking to my death or to a new discovery.

Could it be? I thought to myself. Could it be that someone else was there with me? I didn't let myself hope, because I was drowned in suspense. Even if it was a human, how do I know that I trusted them? What would they do to me? Would they kill me? Would they charge me for their stolen merchandise?

The sun was setting and I hated that. I hated that sluggish orange, slowly fading out to pink flashes of light, the setting sun, the end of a day. I couldn't believe I had wasted a whole day in this goddamned town. I was sure it was only supposed to be three hours, not a whole day.

The house was just like the others, slightly different in style and color, but similar to the abandoned ones next to it. I shuddered, like a wild animal, I bared my teeth and strained my ears to hear if there was any movements inside.

Fuck. I swore when I heard a door slam shut in the house. An animal wouldn't slam doors, they didn't have fucking fingers! They had paws! Oh god.

I started to step up the porch, my breath came out as hitches, and tears welled up in my eyes. I kneeled on the porch, the rifle pressed to the door as I knew the other person was on the other side.

I could feel them. Standing there, I could hear their fingers lingering on the doorknob.

Should I shoot? That would put me on an advantage, but what if the person was wondering the same? What if they were only waiting for an excuse to kill me?
I thought that perhaps my pathetic hoarse whimpers gave me away, they would know I'm human. Were they excited? Were they cross?

Another whimper broke out of my mouth and I felt nauseated. Should I talk? Did I even knew how? After all this time?

My finger traced the trigger, I wished I had earplugs to tune out the horrible sound. Was I really doing it? Me? The best effort the human race could come up with? Was I really about to shoot a person on the other side of this door when I had only killed a bear out of self defense?

I'm a monster. I thought, my finger pulling the trigger.

The door blasted open and I was toppled off the stairs with an inhuman screech, the gun fired off again, shooting around as it descended down the stairs with me. My head hit the ground, my world was titled to the left and I could feel dark murky blood matting my hair.

"Potter." it was him.

Chapter three; Not the only one

*
*
"How long is forever?" asked Alice.
"Sometimes, just one second."

-Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland
*
*

Sometimes, when I slept or was trying to get a shut eye out of exhaustion, I played a game.

It's very simple. Well, at least it was simple enough for me. I had been living in wild for five months by then , everything was still fresh; the grief, confusion, the lack of experience.

I was wary for all of the wrong reasons.

I was naive enough to still believe that they would come back one day, with hugs and kisses and tearful promises. Then we would all cuddle to death and never be apart from each other ever again. I imagined them talking to me, apologizing for leaving me all alone to fend for myself.

Old Harry style.

I imagined food. House elf made food that even Hermione couldn't resist, so then we would all seat down to eat, I would enjoy the loud crashes and sounds that would erupt from the table every so often accompanied by mindless chatter.

Then they would talk, about how they missed me, how they were watching over me, silently cheering me for my bravery and ambition, of how I got them all back.
That was basically the game. I matched up the voices to their faces. I imagined what each person would say ; it's okay Harry. We're going to be alright. We forgive you Harry and we're sorry for leaving.

How pathetic I was.

After the seventh month, I started panicking. Some nights the faces didn't match the voices, some of them were blurred, some of the voices sounded wrong in my head while there was this one voice that started repeating the same sentence over and over again.

"It's not a punishment Potter." it was his voice. Severus Snape. The bat of dungeons was trying to consul me in my own head. Oh, the irony!

'You' ruined my game. I never thought of this as a 'punishment', I thought of it as karma, or some sort of curse, I never thought that I was being punished. Why would God punish me at the expense of everyone else?

Why kill everyone off so I would be left all alone? I asked you those questions, and you only answered. "It's not a punishment Potter."
I didn't believe you. The more you said that, the more I believed that I was being punished. After the eighth month, I started praying. You had drilled the concept into my mind. I was being punished. I deserved this and I was being punished.

I prayed a lot and I cried, we had so many conversations. Me and God. Well, I mostly cried and chocked out unformed words in grunts and he just punished me more by making it rain.

I imagined God talking, he told me ' you screwed up. Now you suck it up. Serve your punishment like a man Harry'

I cried harder, I asked him ' what have I done wrong? How can I fix this? '

God never answered that question.

Rhetorically speaking, God wouldn't give a damn if I lived or not, or redeemed myself or continued on with my sinful ways. I didn't even know what did I do wrong. But you said this wasn't a punishment and you never told me the truth.

It must have been the opposite.

After the tenth month, I got tired of praying, I got tired of apologizing for everything I have done wrong, I was suffering, I was alone, and you just kept repeating that stupid phrase.

I quit praying. To hell with it, if this was a punishment then I would serve it like a man. God was right, I should suck it up and stop being such a baby, maybe when this thing was all over I could go back to praying and sobbing for forgiveness along with everyone else.

But Fuck it, it only got harder. Even then, I told myself that I needed to survive hell in order to get to my heaven.

I stopped playing that game because 'you' (not you necessarily. I mean Snape) ruined it for me.

You self pompous, useless prick, you messed with my mind without even being there, and I was left in broken pieces. Alone. Me and You against the world and each other.

I can go on and insult you all I want without you ever knowing (this journal was private after all) and also, I had came up with some good cussing technics in different languages with the help of Hermione's dictionary. Or as I called her now, my rational voice.

OK, fine, I often referred to her as the bossy head bitch, but you didn't need to know what I thought of my friends.

So insulting you was out. That, however, did not prevent me from showing my surprise once I saw another human being standing on a porch just a few feet away from me.

Anyways.... imagine my shock, when I find smoke in a ghost town, hear some guy slam a door shut like he had just came from the depths of hell and then shoot the said person in the leg only to be tackled to the ground with my still loaded rifle gun.

Guess who that person was? Severus Snape.

Out of all of the people God could've chosen to screw me over it was him. He was different, I recalled he had very long hair and greasy skin. This wasn't him, couldn't be him.

His hair was cut, it was short, almost a buzz cut. He had a beard, a goatee to be exact.

Yeah, that's the first thing I noticed while I was bleeding out to my death on someone else's porch. Oh fuck, Severus Snape has a goatee.
Figures.

I didn't think; Oh, fuck. Another surviver! Or seriously God?! Snape?! We had a deal!

I thought none of those. Well, fine, I did think about the latter after I noticed the goatee, but that's not the point. I was so shocked that I almost got up on my feet,tried to flail my arms above my head in glee, and probably tried to shout out something undignified.

I hadn't spoken in months, I wasn't even sure my vocal cords worked anymore.

I only stared at him with wide eyes instead, unable to believe that there was another person left on the planet. Severus Snape, my potion's Professor was alive, writhing and clutching his knee, cursing, and dressed in a Polo Shirt. Oh I didn't mentioned that did I?

The guy was in a Polo Shirt, I couldn't tell the color ( I was dying, so I guess that's justified) but I was most definitely sure that this guy was Snape. The sneer was the same, the stiff posture and dramatic stance only lacked black robes and then there was his hesitation to come down the porch to actually see me bleeding out of my head.

Good old Snape.

"Potter?" he asked hesitantly , and obviously in pain, it was getting dark and I was drowsy, otherwise I would have answered with something sarcastic and witty. Like ; No it's the freaking ghost of the Christmas past.

I don't remember what happened next, maybe I had held put before he figured that he should bring me into the house, or maybe he had decided to knock me out cause I was screaming. Whatever happened between that period and the next time I woke up still remained a mystery.

I woke up somewhere warm. Somewhere soft, safe in a burrito of blankets, it wasn't dark but the light was lime, my glasses weren't on my face and my head felt groggy.

It had been so long since I was placed on something this soft and heavenly that I was ready to cry. A smell roused my senses, it smelled like tea but not quite.... I wasn't sure, everything was fuzzy at the time.

Remember how I said that this place can't be heaven? I take it all back, this place was my personal heaven, warm, cozy, it even smelled good, the blanket smelled of laundry and felt fresh, I felt it even more so, because I had no shirt.

No. Fucking. way. I thought in horror.

My eyes snapped open in a flash, and I shot up on the couch with a groan. The burrito fell apart and my eyes couldn't see a thing in the dark. My breathing picked up speed, I spread out my hand to find mama bear or my glasses. Not exactly in the same order.

There was nothing. Nor my glasses or mama bear were next to me. Now, you might protest, but I found that situation very justified for what I did next.
I blindly toppled out of the heap of pillows and blankets and picked up an empty vase from the coffee table. My head seared and I was nauseous, but I maintained balance and walked away from my nest.

He was nowhere to be seen, I think I was in a living room at the time but I couldn't be sure, the light was too dimmed and I was still too dizzy.

I heard shuffling in the kitchen, or whatever that place with a lot of light was, the door was half way closed and I thought I could see his shadow going around the kitchen in a hurry. As if he was repeatedly running back and forth. That awfully familiar smell of herbs seemed to be fading away with every breath that I took and it made me even more suspicious.

Remember yesterday? When I told you about animalistic fear and all the crap? About my caveman side? I was on auto pilot right now.

"Quit dawdling Potter and get in." The man snapped without looking back and I blanched, my fear took control of my body again and I was a shivering mess right in the middle of this warm and cozy living room.

A voice. It was a human's voice. The sound sent shivers down my spine and I was ready to faint again.

"Potter." he snapped again in annoyance and walked (limping a little) out of the kitchen, the potion master took one look at me and then at the vase and clicked his tongue.

"That one's antique. Use the red vase." he told me, unimpressed by my fighting pose as he flipped the lights on. I hissed, covering my eyes like a bat out of cave.
"Fuck you." I tried to tell him but it more came out like ' uuu oooouuu '. Wow, I guess the voice was really damaged.

"I think we established that Potter. Sit on the couch before you fall over and crack your head open again." much to his credit, he didn't look surprised to see me. At all.

Well, I was still surprised, I was more than surprised. I was speechless. I hadn't spoken to a normal, breathing, living, or bleeding human being in a whole year now. I was like Tarzan in comparison to the man.

He must have read my utter confusion and shock, because he then heaved a sigh and moved closer to me. He tried to grab my hand, but I was faster. Even as blind as a bat, I landed that bastard a well placed smack to the face with my antique vase.

He hissed and swore. "You rad animal! Settle down Potter! Dammit!" I stumbled back in a crouching pose and narrowed my eyes.

"What did you just call me?" I think that's what I said, it must have came out wrong or in a form of a whimper as a result of my pathetic vocal ability. His face softened. Oh... That was what that emotion was... Pity.

"Potter, put the vase down." he handed something out to me. I knew they should be my glasses, dubiously I reached and took the item with shaking hands. I was still in shock.

He caught the vase and I repositioned my skew glasses, looking like a fucking deer caught in headlight.

Somehow I ended up back on the couch and he was looking over me, poking and prodding my head and body. I gathered up my courage and pushed past the shock, I cleared my throat several times before even I attempted speaking like a human being again. I had demonstrated enough caveman traits for the man as it was.

Extending my hand, I swatted the man's hands off my head and shrank back.

"Snape?" I whizzed out, and he nodded, expertly covering his delight upon seeing his least favorite student here in his.... What was this place? His house? It couldn't be, I ravaged this place, I looked /everywhere/. Snape must be new.

I bounced up with excitement. Maybe he came back! Maybe he knows what's going on!

"Snape!" I could honestly kiss him right then, I was so happy that I didn't even care.

The man rolled his eyes and handed me a vial out of his pocket. "Drink it up Potter. It helps." I would've questioned him whether this was poison or not any other day. This was Snape! But now?! The only thing I cared about, was that he was human, and frankly he wasn't a voice in my head.

He was really there. My hand lingered on his to test the realness of the situation and I gasped. Now just before you call me emotionally deprived or just overly dramatic, I will tell you that I wasn't the only one crying. Snape wasn't crying at first, he just looked at me contently. But then the waterworks started.

As soon as that damned potion was down my throat, I was crying. I couldn't control it, the taste as crappy as it was, brought up so many memories that I had tried to hide. The surreal dream wasn't so much of a dream after all and I was just.... Overwhelmed. I cried. A lot.

He looked at me for a good five minutes before he awkwardly patted my shoulder. That made me cry harder. Human touch.

Look at me getting sentimental, Harry the bear killer was crying over Snape touching him. I rolled my eyes later at the incident. But then... Then it felt like heaven caressing me. I didn't care who, I didn't care even if it was Voldemort. This was a person, a human.

"Snape." I cried like a child did for its parents. Pitiful and completed with broken hiccups. I was sixteen, I was 5'3 and I was still crying for Snape like a damn baby. Good move Potter, real smooth.

"Potter calm down. I'm not going anywhere." somewhere in that statement was a lie. I knew that but I still allowed myself to believe it. I threw my arms around his neck and wept. He did not hug me back and I didn't expect him to, nor did I really care as I poured my heart out. The fact that my body was feeling skin, that Snape's body warmth comforted me was more than enough.

I cried for hours it seemed, before I was reduced to hiccups and shuddering breaths. Snape hadn't moved his hand from my shoulder, all the while, keeping a passive face, but I think I caught a solitary tear there somewhere.

"How's your head?" he asked some time later, it was well into the night and I was hungry as it got. Uncharacteristically so. Crying sucked.

I had passed lunch and I needed to use the bathroom. But I was scared, scared that I leave and he'd be gone too.

"Fine." even my throat was better and I could get my message across without sounding like a grunting baboon. Thank god for small mercies. Just realizing that I was sprawled on the man's lap, I scooted away, hastily crossing my arms.

Snape frowned at my pallid demeanor. "Are you tired? I can get you settled in the guest bedroom."

It took me a while to dissect the words and get a full meaning, but I shook my head; I had no intentions of moving from that soft and comfortable couch I was currently sitting on. I couldn't believe that in the midst of my melt down I have actually cried for the softness of this brilliant couch. But my buttocks did though.

"Was your throat injured? Where you attacked?" I could tell the questions were warm up and pointless. I could see the man bouncing with poorly contained fascination , eager to know. I was too. Now that I have calmed down, my glance went to his left leg, where I should have shot him.

He had obviously healed the wound with a spell or potion or something. I didn't care.

Now the real question was where did the motherfucker hid my mama bear and backpack? I knew that he had hid them somewhere in the house, as much as I was one hundred percent sure that I got him when I shot. Still no pain or blood seemed to show, the man was as calm and as strict as ever. So it must have been a spell.

"Potter I know you can talk. Answer me." he nudged me by the hand and I clutched into it like a leech. Snape tried to wrench his hand out of my grasp, looking at me wearily.

"Where's mama bear?" thankfully it got as clearly as I had intended it too. Snape shook his head in confusion clouding his eyes.

"What?"

I rolled my bloodshot eyes, of course he wouldn't know what mama bear was. "My riffle, the one I shot you with. Where is it?" it got out more scratchy than before and I had to cough repeatedly after I croaked out my message, but I think Snape got what I meant. The man's eyes didn't move from my poked out ribs and scarry chest. I covered myself with the burrito of blankets.

"In the kitchen along with your backpack. Potter..." the man trailed off as if not knowing what to say. What should he say anyway? Did you think that you were the only human left on earth too? Oh my, we have so much in common!

He seemed to be in an internal inflict between disbelief and his utter need to remain stoic. I vaguely noticed his hand was still clutched in mine.
"Where were you?" I asked with hint of suspicious. My throat gave away at the end.

Snape shrugged. "I move from place to place. Last week I was in Albania." he gave me a disgusted look that mostly represented the man's reflexes than his true intent. "You on the other hand, look like a homeless person."

"I live in the woods." I wasn't about to explain my reasons to him, and he'd better suck that up.

He was clearly taken back by my deadpan response. "The woods?! Why would you do something so idiotic like that Potter?!" he exclamation exactly sounded like a scolding he would give away at Hogwarts. It made me feel stupid for doing what I thought was right.

I shrugged in response. My throat was starting to itch and that was never a good sign.

"Is there anyone else.. That..." my throat clogged.

Snape didn't let me finish, and graced me with a somber reply.

"No. No one Potter. I thought I was the last." I rolled my eyes then, see my point here? That guy thought he was the last too. We truly have so many things in common. I wouldn't be surprised if he fished out a rifle just like mine named baby. Or maybe a journal.

He handed me a stack of papers and a pen from the coffee table, the pen agitated my hand and he watched me like a hawk as I tried to write out my questions one by one, as my throat wasn't up for talking anymore.

I had questions, loads of them. First things first though, I was starving but that wasn't too important. The absence of my backpack bothered me a lot, me and backpack were inseparable. I demanded that first before food.

He declined.

I gave him the finger.

After that ordeal, Snape and I got on pretty well, he was disgruntled but as usual tried to hide it behind a stoic mask, he watched me devour a can of carrot soup while I nibbled on the bread like a bird. How did he get bread? It tasted fresh, it tasted wonderfully fresh, it melted on my tongue, and I lavished every lick and bite I got out of it. I could go on, I could describe every bite I got, but that's a bit boring and lame. So I skip ahead straight to our talk.

I wrote on the paper. My handwriting was like a toddler's. "How did you survive? Do you know what happened? Where are they?" Snape took another look at me and shrugged.

"I'm not sure Potter. I didn't even know there is somebody left. What had happened to you boy? You look... Half dead." that was putting it in mildly, but I wasn't about to admit that. I wasn't the old Harry anymore.

I wrote. "I was gonna cut my hair."

To him it might have sounded ridiculous and pathetic, but to me it was a good defensive approach, if not a bit slurred, I was feeling warm and cozy. Miles away.
"Can you tell me what happened? Can you remember?" he pressed.

I underlined my last statement, groggy with the need to sleep."I told you, I was gonna cut my hair." either Snape was getting daft, or I was too tired to keep up with him.

"That's not what I meant. I mean with everyone, what happened to them Potter? Who was the last? What about Dumbledore?" I looked at him for a moment, before scribbling down my answer.

"I can't tell." because I wasn't there. No, I was in the astronomy tower, brooding like a pathetic child.

Snape glared at me and drew out his wand, I saw the gleam die in his eyes, as if he was finally declaring me mentally unfit to have a serious discussion with. He must have thought I was nuts by that point in our interaction.

"Let me look over you Potter. You... You look sickly." I shook my head, I was fine. Shit happened, and I got sick a lot, it was probably the blood loss.

We needed to talk. I needed to know about him, of what he's been up to, and what the hell he was doing here... But somehow, I couldn't keep my eyelids open. In a half-assed attempt, I snatched another paper and tried to write on it.

"We need to talk." I wrote in Capital letters, surging the note in his hands. Snape clicked his tongue and pushed me back in my seat. He had given up on me tonight, I could tell.

"We can talk later Potter, let me tend to your head and other... Damages."

I tried to bat his hands away, but he caught my wrists with a glare.

I swore his grasp could snap my twig like wrists in two anytime. "Seat still and let me do my job Potter, I don't need a corpse to get rid of in the morning." the man glowered.

I decided that I was either imagining the whole ordeal, or I was underestimating Snape's threat.

That was how my life went on everyday. Either/or, none better than the other, each choice more gruesome to me than it was crucial for survival. I didn't argue with Snape further, and let him do whatever he felt like doing in order to distract me. I was just so glad that another human was here that I didn't even care.

He fed me another vial of potion, and told me it was for my head, he was gracious enough to not insult me or jab me while working. My head kept bobbing a little and my eyes were glued to the man's knee.

I never asked what happened to the gunshot. I thought and opened my mouth to do so, but Snape hushed me with a glare.

I was settled on the couch, and he handed me new clothes, clothes that actually fit. Snape had made out a huge nest on the couch, completed with some blankets on the floor incase I rolled over in my sleep.

I was very disappointed in myself, It wasn't even that late for me to feel this tired, it could be ten at most and eight if I had been unconscious shorter than I have thought I would be, I knew that the moment I saw the scenery out of a half covered window, I had slept four hours tops each night, and this wasn't even my dinner time yet.

So despite the heaviness in my head, I laid somewhat awake, hearing Snape shuffling above me upstairs, I mulled over his voice. Again and again, one time after the other. I would talk to him tomorrow, I would ask questions, drag out information and figure out what the hell was going on. For now though, I liked to sleep. Even if only for tow hours.

The last thing my bleary eyes caught was Snape settling next to me on the floor, sitting cross-legged and opening up a book, I could tell his eyes were on me. Was he also frightened? Scared that I'd vanish if he closed his eyes? Could he feel how scared /I/ was?

"Sleep, Potter." he ordered, his hand settling awkwardly on my shoulder, rubbing circles on my arm in a comforting manner.

For the first time in months I dreamed of Hogwarts.

Chapter four; Newton's third rule


*
*
"Take some more tea," the March Hare said to Alice, very earnestly.

"I've had nothing yet," Alice replied in an offended tone, "so I can't take more."

"You mean you can't take less," said the Hatter: "it's very easy to take more than nothing."

"Nobody asked your opinion," said Alice.

_Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

*
*

Snape, you bastard.

You are, an idiot.

Did you really believe that I was naive or desperate enough to wake up all fine and jolly waiting for you to come down and start a new life?

You had unloaded my rifle. That's a personal insult. I had no idea where you had hidden it, but you also had gone through my backpack and picked up my extra sharp scissors. Who were you kidding? If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it in a blink. I understand your hesitation though; I did shoot you in your kneecap after all.

But still!

I figured the rifle was empty the moment my eyes opened the next morning. Right at dawn. Like my daily routine. I realized with a jolt that my good night's sleep had only one real factor to it, and that was you drugging me, either that potion or the bread or soup was drugged. I bundled the stock on my shoulder and pulled the safety, quickly hooking my finger around the trigger and pulled. A stifled, choked sound escaped the gun. It was empty.

The sun that shone that day was rather intense; it peaked from the cracks of curtains and lightened the room. For the first time since last night, I felt like myself.

I moved around the house as stealthily as I could manage, burdening my back with mama bear and my beat up backpack, looking for my stolen possessions. I had only known my mama bear since yesterday, and I could definitely do without the medieval right handed torture device, but still I looked for it.

Snape was a neat person, I admitted to myself grudgingly, it seemed like even the post apocalypse life style had been a piece of cake for him as there wasn’t a speck of dust in that blasted house.

I rolled my eyes, and picked up my rifle from my shoulder as I headed upstairs, trusting my instincts to find me the potion master's bedroom, where he must be snoozing right now after leaving me last night by the couch. As you might expect, my ambush plan did not carry out the way I thought it would.

You're right. I found the bathroom... A real freaking bathroom, in a real freaking house.

Like a child, I lowered my unloaded weapon and pushed the ajar door fully open, my eyes almost watered as I admired the concrete white spotless tiles, a bathtub hidden by pristine purple curtain, a spotless toilet seat, a sink... It even had towels...

Laugh at me all you want suckers, but let's see who has the last laugh when you try to put yourselves in my shoes for a whole bloody year. I have not used a proper bathroom since I got out of Hogwarts. I bathed (hastily) in the river and cleaned up my hair whenever I could... But a bath... an actual bath with a shower stand and a bar of soup, so tempting...

I didn't even think about what I did next, I just did it. I banged the door shut and locked it behind me in a flash, my clothes were flown around the bathroom and I discarded my underwear and backpack by the door. The unloaded rifle rested by the sink as I opened the taps. Watching with fascination as the water filled up in the tub. Crouching next to it like how a retarded troll watches a man riding a bicycle in wonder. I did the same.

I watched with my mouth half open as the water rose and rose and rose up to the very brim. Scalding hot. I didn't even mind the fog, the moment I stepped in that tub, I just melted away.

I soaked like the last human remained on earth, like every freaking person combined, I soaked for all of those who had disappeared or/and can't enjoy the simplicity of a comforting bath. I drained every freaking second out of that one hour period.

Though I wasn't the last human on earth anymore. That thought struck me as odd, I had come to believe that phrase for so long that even then I felt a tingle of hesitation whenever I thought of Snape. Was he even real? Was any of this?

The grimy water certainly seemed real. I thought in disgust, drained the tub, and filled it again. And again after I washed my hair. You can't believe how excited I was doing that... I was giggling the whole time, cause of the way bubbles brushed over my shoulders and I felt so clean after all this time, I laughed like a bloody kid in candy store, told he can pick anything up for free. I opened the tangled knots, and then refilled the filthy water for a third time.

Scrubbing myself raw only with that bar of soup in a matter of fifteen minutes. Like before, I can go one and describe the joys of using a proper toilet seat for you guys too, but that would be lame, long and pointless, so I skip that part to when I accidentally found a pair of scissors in the bathroom cabinet.

"Lucky bastard. Aren't you Harry?" and I was.

I heard Snape pausing by the door and smacked the scissors on the sink to indicate my presence in the bathroom. He heaved a sigh and knocked before leaving.

"Hurry along Potter. I need the bathroom."

I had no intentions of hurrying up, but decided to spare the man for his wrong doings and speed things up a little. Only a little.

I clutched my hair in a fist above my head and cut it off. Just like that. The weight reduced in my head instantly, I grabbed another fistful and did the same, over and over again until my hair was barely brushing my ears.

Crunch, Crunch, Crunch... Chunks of hair fell out of my head, my fists, the damn scissors... Black unruly hair everywhere... I opened my eyes when the sound of the scissors stopped. I paused. I looked up to the mirror and stared back into my green emerald eyes.

Harry James Potter. That's who I saw under that beastly mop of hair and numerous scars. I didn't see bear killer Harry, or insect eating Harry... I saw Harry James Potter. With a thin round face, pale as it got, big emerald eyes and a button nose to finish it off. I saw me. The Harry before vanishment.

It was startling and I was taken back. A fucking bath and a haircut was all it took to change me back? That was it? No it wasn't. I tried to convince myself. Old Harry was dead. Dead with the rest of them.

Snape came barreling at the door fifteen minutes later, when I had another shower to clean out the hair and had smuggled out my cut hair out of the drain.

"Potter! What in the name of Merlin are you doing in there?!"

I opened the door the moment he had his wand out to cast spells. My rifle pointed right at his hooked nose. Snape actually smirked.

"It’s unloaded." he said smugly and I smiled in return.

"I can still break your nose." in fact, that was what I intended to do, instead of giving him a head start. Snape drew away and brushed past me in a dissatisfying flash.

"The house is charmed. Don't even think about running away." I wouldn't dream of it. I rolled my eyes as he closed the door with a shape snap and headed downstairs to find food. I was starving, and hunger usually knocked me right back into my animalistic spirit.

It never occurs to you, that when the apocalypse comes, that you'd be one of those victims; It's the way human’s conscious works, ' Screw the rest, I will survive.'
That's what you all think when you're told that an apocalypse is about to come.

You're wrong. Those bastards who think they would out live the rest are one of the first to go. And maybe they're lucky. Maybe they're not. Who cared? Those who stayed were what mattered. Those who survive this kind of shit are the worst people roaming this planet; take me and Snape for example.

He's a death eater, who tortured, killed and possibly poisoned more than a few dozen of people, and was rhetorically 'the bad guy' in our story.

Then take me. I'm a murderer, an abuser of animals (whereas I had plans to be a vegetarian once) I know... I'm such a halfass hypocrite, I was a self-centered, selfish, whiny git who just pitied himself and sniffled around, just needing a freaking apocalypse to bring out his beastly side. I'm the worst kind of person you find out there.

I'm that naive neighbor named Jamie or some other crap like that. Don't look at me like that; we all have those neighbors... The naive sniffling kid who turned out to be a right bastard when you trusted him. The quiet one who turned out to be the mastermind behind the bubblegum attack prank gone wrong when you were in school.

I was the rascal.

Now here we were. Me and Snape, alone in this planet. All by ourselves, designed to torture each other, probably.

Or were there any others out there? Did I want them to be? I had no idea.

"Potter."

I looked up from my bowl of soggy cereal and raised my eyebrow. Yes. The man had freaking cereal and milk in his house.

"Professor Snape." He had a towel around his shoulders, this time clad in a long sleeved shirt and jeans. Snape in jeans. Maybe this apocalypse was as real as I thought it to be. Ron would have a heart attack knowing I had seen the Slytherin in jeans.

"Are you better? Your head?" the man raised an elegant eyebrow as he saw me drinking from his cereal bowl. The cereal bowl was his. Left off on his kitchen table, where I found it right after my dark musings.

"I shot you in the knee." I didn't sugarcoat our interaction with useless small talk. I also had a good knack for irritating Snape, and that would hopefully help me find some answers.

"I took care of it last night, you’re a bit slow." the man answered coolly.

I narrowed my eyes. "No, you took care of my mama bear. Where are the bullets?" As in trying to protect the gun, I lovingly caressed the metallic barrel, lending my head against the trigger. My fresh and short hair, grazed against the trigger. The feeling was new.

Snape dried his goatee and hair with the fluffy white towel and raised his eyebrow, conjuring a cup of coffee with his wand from the stove.

"Do you feel the need to shoot me now?"

I shrugged, spinning the soggy spoon in the bowl. Where the hell had he found the milk from? "If you turned out to be a freaking alien in disguise, Or if you keep on annoying me any further than this stage." I admitted nonchalantly. Snape actually took a moment to take me in, sneered at full capacity and shook his head in exasperation.

"You're still the same Potter. No wonder." he finally muttered.

Threatened, I stiffened.

"Shut up." I hissed. "You have no idea what you're talking about." I was in no way /overreacting/. Screw you, if you thought that I was.

"Potter..."

"Alright, I've been putting up with your shit long enough! What the hell is going on? What are you doing here? How do I even know you’re real? And why are you so calm?!" I couldn't understand him. I genuinely couldn't. We were alone, all by ourselves in this freaking world and here we were eating fucking cereal.

Of course I was hysterical to find another breathing being who didn't have animalistic homicide urges to kill me. Of course that fact opened up old wounds I was trying to forget all this time.

Snape? That fucking bastard looked like I was chatting on about the weather.

"I have no idea. I live here. I have no idea, and I got used to it. It becomes easier when you're a dull bitter grown up Potter, you won't even know the difference." the man sighed theatrically.

In a long practiced lung, I crashed across the table and grabbed his collar, my butter knife just an inch away from his slightly widened eyes.

"Talk." I growled out, the knife hovering swiftly intertwined in my fingers like a second limb.

Snape was fast, and of course I hadn't been expecting the man to use his wand.

"Potter. Quit acting like a deranged animal for a minute and sit down. I don't want to harm you." but I will, if you piss me off again. He finished the thought with his depthless black eyes.

I was thrown back in my chair with a medium dose of the stinging hex. I hissed and clutched my hip.

"I am an animal Snape. I lived in wild for a whole bloody year, my standards have changed." the knife remained in my hand.

"You think I can't harm you?" he dared me.

"I know I can throw a punch harder than you can, or probably suffocate you to death. All options are available." I shrugged and slumped back in my chair; I looked away from Snape and gazed through the floral frilly curtains gracing the windows.

"Maybe you have changed after all." the man mused thoughtfully.

"Maybe. Where the milk came from?"

"Seriously?"

"…And the bread."

"Potter... Out of all of the questions you could have asked..." there was a strike of disappointment in his voice.

"I'm curious." I wasn't. In the slightest (that’s a lie. I was), but I needed to lure him in first... I knew exactly how to make the man talk. I just needed to know.... Something. My brain yearned for more of that something... That something to fill it with, to absorb it like a sponge.

The man clicked is tongue. "Reserving spells. I casted one at each store I crossed. Infinite food supply." that was actually quite smart of him. Not that I was about to admit that to the man. Not even the end of the world could make me admit that.

"Not infinite." I called him out.

Snape shrugged nonchalantly and holstered his wand.

"Enough to last me ten years Potter, enough to end my miserable life comfortably. And that's saying something, you on the other hand..."

"I cut my hair."

Snape snorted bitterly. "I can see that.” His face sobers.” What happened to you?"

I furrowed incredulously. "What happened to me? What do you think?" before I could go into full rant mode Snape held up a hand.

"Why in the /woods/ Potter? You can live, literally, anywhere you wished."

I was uncomfortable with the subject. Just so you know that my reactions were justified.

"That's stealing. Trespassing, and using something that isn't mine. I'm not immoral." But right now, I’d eat raw meat if I can find it, the thought stung me and I cringed.

"No, you are an idiot." the man snipped back.

"An idiot in need of answers, I need to know if you know anything about all the people who have vanished.” I felt like I was more afraid of my question than he was by the answer.

"I haven't the slightest idea Potter. They all vanished. Fair and square." that part is the truth. Though Snape wasn't in the country at the time to know, I figured, he must have seen it with other people vanishing into thin air from wherever he was at the time.

"Why didn't you come look for survivors?" if my calculations were correct, the man must have had time to survey Hogwarts at some point. I was in there for at least five months, a simple spell or a charm would've revealed me. Would've saved me.

Snape leered. "Why would I? I had moved out of England, long before their disappearance happened. I had no desire to trace the tracks back to the source."
"What?" what the hell was this man talking about?

Snape arched an elegant eyebrow. "It all started here, your so called ‘vanishment’, I saw it unreasonable to return when it didn't benefit me." That was new information, I sagely stored it away next to the mental image of the man’s goatee, which, to be honest was really off putting.

"So you just didn't have the guts to come look for survivors. You're such a bastard."

"And you are vulgar. Is there an insult you haven't subjected me to in the last seven hours?" the man jeered. This wasn't Hogwarts, so I jeered right back at him.
"You're also a creep. You fucking drugged me." I accused him.

The man did not bat an eye and conjured a small blue bowl for himself, nonchalantly crossing the countertop to reach the milk. "You had a bump the size of an apple on the back of your head, along with a concussion. You were sleep deprived and also completely insane. Of course I drugged you."

I bared my teeth. "I hate you. I really do Snape. Do you think this is karma?"

He winced, reaching for the cereal. "I'm starting to think I liked you better when you weren't as..."

"Bold?"

"Out of it." he finished dryly as he set the cereal box back on the counter.

"Whatever. What happens now?" and wasn’t that the question of the year?

"Whatever that was happening before. It's just the two of us now Potter, and enough food to live comfortably for a few years." Snape seemed agitated, his stoic face, was closed off more than usual, that made me curious.

"And then die."

"And then, start looking for answers, if we felt like it." He said it with uncertainty.

I didn't comment on his last statement. "I don't know if I like this. Not being alone. I haven't talked in a year now, and now I can't get myself to shut up. It's getting annoying." I mused; the rifle was now perched on my lap, temporarily forgotten. I wasn’t lying exactly; talking to the man, or rather bantering with him, sent an exhilarating rush through my chest, but the subject of our talk made me queasy

"Better get used to it. We have the rest of our lives ahead." I realized that he was still skirting around the real issue here. I wasn't in a mood for his Slytherin induced antics.

“I’m very interested in how we still have running water and electricity. It's not something magic can fix." I pointed out.

He shrugged. "Maybe not the electricity. But the water is the result of a household spell. A bloody useful one at that. As for the power... Well turns out this house was self-sufficient, I didn’t even need magic. It has a generator in the shed, surprisingly, still working."

"Alright, now that I think about it, I really don't want to know these things. It makes me look stupid. “I complained, next time, I’m just going to wait long enough for the man to explain them himself.

I looked around the dainty kitchen in fake interest; the walls were painted in a ghastly shade of light blue, and adorned with muggle furniture, a way any muggle house would have been; a mundane coffee maker, a toaster next to the spotless sink and the matching pristine curtains that went with the grayish cupboards adorning the walls.

The potion master looked bland and unimpressed. "You are lacking a big chunk of your clarity Potter. Not that I can blame you. How is your throat?"
I traced my jaw and my long neck, feeling the marred skin. “I don't even feel it anymore. My throat... It's fine. It hurt before and I couldn't speak. Why?"
He dismissed me with a hand, dropping his empty bowl in the sink, the spoon clanked loudly enough for me to wince.

"There's nothing a good tea won't fix.” He said mysteriously. “Now that you're done hogging my bathroom and chugging my breakfast, I think it's time we..." he trailed off, as if not knowing what he should say. What should he say though?

"Lounge on the porch and watch the sunset?" I joked, then paused, startled at my own behavior.

He snorted. "Maybe having you around is not as bad I thought." We spent a few moments in silence when the man suddenly carded a hand through his hair.

“The thought of you surviving in the wild somehow makes all of this even worse." Snape seemed to tell himself more than to me. He just seemed like he couldn’t get past that fact, I noted with amusement.

"What if I did? I have a home there and everything." A home that was recently ran over by rad animals not just two nights ago.

I blanched, that seemed like so long ago.

"I'm the adult Potter, you are my student... And as much as it pains me to say this... But we need each other to survive, and I worry for your health."

"You don’t need to. I've been fine all by myself this past year. This doesn’t change anything, I still hate you." I assured him, pursing my lips in distress when the man glared.

"As I am the rational adult, I will not respond to that.” He deadpanned. “I'll recognize a violent child in need when I see one. You were such a... Calm and... Well..." his face screwed momentarily.

"Well?" I prodded, clanking the spoon back in the bowl with force.

He scowled. "Calm and a reserved boy. Don't take that as a compliment Potter. But what I saw last night startled me."

What had he been expecting of me? I had every right to be driven insane, I’ve been isolated for a whole year, seeing nothing but trees and animals, and I haven’t talked or interacted with any living person left on this planet, unlike him I wasn’t a heartless prick, who could go on as if nothing was wrong, I was messed up in the head, and considering everything, my reaction last night was my tamest yet. He should be grateful I only shot him in the knee. I furiously scrapped my chair against the ground.

"Sorry it didn’t live up to your standards. I was busy surviving the apocalypse.” I countered, my eyes flashing.

"You're not the only person who's been hurting this past year Potter. I've been looking for answers just as much as you were."

"Who said I've been looking for answers?” I denied feverishly. All those nights I spent in the library, helplessly flipping around the books I have read a thousand times in hopes to find an answer came to the forefront of my mind.

“Who says that I even care enough to look for a way to bring them back?” every night that I was too drained to even conjure a spark of light, the nights that I starved until the garden snakes came back with their kills, eager to share them with me.

I stifled, my jaw set in a straight line intending to share my conclusion with him. “When an era ends, a new one begins Snape. That's the dinosaur’s rule. You think those poor geezers would've thought about logic as they were plummeted by a steroid? No, they died out. And so are we." Yes, I was curious to know what happened to my friends, and I still wanted them to come back, but I was done looking for a way to help them with it, months of wandering around didn’t help and just because Snape was at his ‘Let’s bring them back’ stage, didn’t mean I should relapse too, I was way past that.

"You sounded like you cared just a moment ago." The man stated suspiciously, I turned my head away. He couldn’t know, nobody could, not even those I am writing to now, could never know the true extent of the horror I went through to get here.

"Don't be mistaken. My curiosity is just that, a human inconvenience. That doesn't mean that I'm /looking/ for a solution here." I did my looking, I told myself furiously. I’ve done my part, even though it didn’t help a thing.

"So in other words, you have given up. Not typical for a Gryffindor such as you." Snape sneered; I stubbornly refused his gaze, carding a hand through my short damp hair.

"You try being me for a whole freaking year, and we'll see who quits.” my eyes suddenly caught a flash of metal in the cupboard and I sighed. My hold on the barrel tightened and my gaze flashed. Snape saw me looking at the flash and rolled his eyes.

The man cut me off with a scoff. "But that’s just it Potter, I do know what’s it like.” He retrieved the silver bullets from the cup and uncurled his fist on my palm. I mentally counted the bullets as they fell in my hand. Five tear shaped bullets laid on my hand. Minus the one I had used to maim Snape with yesterday.

"Do you genuinely think that they all died?" I couldn’t see why he should care, as much as I was aware, the man had no other person in his life except for himself to appreciate, if anything, this should be his heaven now.

"Who knows? The point is that they don't exist anymore. They're certainly not coming back, the question is where /were/ you while all that shit was happening. Surely you had seen what has been happening with the muggles at first?"

"Of course I did you idiotic boy, upon contrary belief, I am neither blind nor heartless, and I saw in Albania what you did here in England."

"And instead of coming back here with your fucking tail between your bloody legs, you just stayed cooped up in your cave? Give me some credit Snape, I'm not that stupid."

"I beg to differ. And for your information; No I did not hide out in my /cave/. Albus explicitly had ordered me to stay put in my whereabouts.”

“Since he loved you so much?” I responded cheekily, and I felt the hate radiate from my teacher in waves.

“I was under the unbreakable vow, as the communication was cut off and I could not get in touch with the wizarding community, things had progressed too far... I was helpless." The man grounded his teeth, rubbing his face with tired hands.

"Then why are you back now? Why did you go in the first place? And how could you possibly be here when you are /explicitly/ under a vow to not return under any circumstances?"

"I believe the apocalypse wasn't mentioned in the contract... What do you think you brat?! When one of the confederates is dead, the vow would automatically fall within five weeks." The potion master retorted sarcastically.

As if I was already supposed to know that, the man clearly seemed to overestimate my age and education. I drawled internally, I had no idea unbreakable vows had an expiring date; it seemed way more mundane and reachable now.

But Snape’s explanation only made up for two months tops (considering the man had stayed another month just for good measure), what about the other ten?

"Wait... When did you come back then?" I saw the light disappear in his eyes.

"Roughly four weeks now Potter. Forgive me if my sense of time is not cooperating."

"Why didn't you try to come here before? The vanishment happened a year ago. Exactly a year ago, if you had known that everyone was dead then surely you...unless..." unless Snape had stayed put because Dumbledore or one of the counterparts was still alive.

"No Potter. Dumbledore's dead. There is no doubt in that.”

“What was your mission? Why was it so important? Was it related to this?” I bombarded his with questions, my moodiness forgotten and over ridden by my curiosity.
The man stiffened, and I leant forward, the gun uncomfortably digging in my hip. "Eat your meal, you may change your clothes and then we can see about...."

"I have clothes. And my trunk, I'm not staying here. I'm going home." I cut him off, clearing my throat.

Snape took the change of subject with open arms. "Home? I presume you mean the woods?"

I nodded curtly. "Yes, there. I can't live here, and nor can you. This isn't our property, it's trespassing and stealing."

I wasn’t a moral compass, not even remotely close, but Snape’s remarks irked me, I couldn’t live in someone else’s house, use their stuff and pretend that they never existed in the first place. Not only that, but the loneliness, and utter devastation would hit me for sure. That’s exactly the reason why I avoided Joy’s green as much as possible; it was a ghost town, in every sense of the word.

"This is not really the time for morals Mr. Potter." The man narrated, I realized that the man would turn this into a long discussion to avoid answering me.
I still frowned though; wasn’t the lack of morals the point here? I wasn’t saying that this was a race, but if it was, I wouldn’t want to be the one stealing other people’s lives or houses, I’d much rather have my own measly den that was ran over by animals and my stash of cheerios.

"The lack of morals is what got me in this situation in the first place Mr. Snape."

"Why is that?" he asked me futilely. I stared at him until the man sighed, looking as if he had a stomach ache.

"..."

He smacked his teeth and immediately started talking, in a rushed accented tone. “You have to realize that not everything was purely or morally right Potter, particularly some of the missions that I was compelled to accept for the light side of the war." He waited for me to nod. I told him to move on.

"A year and a few months back I was called to his office, he abruptly told me that I was to leave England the next day under a secret mission for the order and I was to receive orders from no one but himself when he attempted to contact me.”

“The mission was in Albania.” It wasn’t a question, but he still nodded in confirmation.

“Yes. He put me under an unbreakable vow, told me that I could not return to Hogwarts unless my mission was fulfilled and sent me off with nothing but a trunk of clothes and necessities."

"Do you think they were related? The mission and the vanishing?"

Snape shook his head quickly. Too quickly to indicate that he was telling the truth, I decided not to call him on it and wait for what he had to say. "No Potter, my mission was to assassinate an agent in the dark lord's inner circle, the said woman had knowledge that could determine the outcome of the war in favor to the dark Lord, the secret was, perhaps, our only shot at victory and that woman knew it."

"What happened to her?"

"She's gone." Snape answered blandly.

I didn’t refrain from rolling my eyes. "Yes I gathered that. But how?"

"Well, she vanished before I got the chance to carry out my mission. I reported as such but Albus ordered me to stay put until farther notice. I have not heard of him since."

"And now you're here." I slowly said, dumbstruck and disbelieving. This couldn’t be it, my mind snapped at me.

Snape pretended that he couldn’t hear the disbelief in my voice and carried on nonchalantly. "I've only dared to travel out of my hiding place once I made sure doing so wouldn't vaporize me. So I was residing at an unknown location in Albania, I ventured out and apparated here when London held no promises."

"And...?" I prodded, righting the rifle so the stock rested on my lap; I had half a mind to load the thing right then, just in case.

Snape cocked his head to the side. "And the herbs that grow around this place are invaluable.” He informed me dryly.

“It might be the apocalypse Potter, but a potion master like me wouldn't miss the chance to gather rare ingredients such as those." He finished, standing with a groan and crumbling the white fluffy towel in his slender hands.

I sat there and only stared at the potion professor dubiously; felt as if the story sounded too edited, rushed and vague. It felt as if Snape had ran a comb through the very core of his ‘mission’ the way an adult would leave out a particular scene from a movie while retelling it to a minor, I should have been insulted but oddly I wasn’t. Only comforted somehow; the man was lying to me, that was one more person who had lied to me in the past year except for myself, and I found that oddly comforting and humane.

So I decided to lie to him in return, which was the human thing to do after all.

“I believe you.” I told him with a small, relieved smile, hoping that the man would buy it.

His eyes narrowed slightly, just the way it did when he was targeting Neville in his potion’s classroom. Cold and distant. “Then you wouldn’t mind telling me what happened to you?” the tone was sharp and meant to be sarcastic, but unlike Neville whom would have been wetting his pants right now, I found myself unaffected.

I was attacked by a feral female bear not only two days ago.

“Not at all, you’re coming to my den.” I smiled, my face straining with the very effort it took me to manage the act after avoiding it for so long. The expression was alien on my face but the intent wasn’t; I had some hunting to do.

Chapter five; the vanishment of all saints

*
*

The White Rabbit put on his spectacles. 'Where shall I begin, please your Majesty?' he asked. 'Begin at the beginning,' the King said gravely, 'and go on till you come to the end: then stop.'

-Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

*
*

November 1st

The day of all saints dawned as any other mundane day, the sun rose from the east, enthralling the audience, the cheerful, yet annoying chirps of the blackbirds perched on the very edge of the scarce skeleton of hallowed out trees rang out through the small town, a gentle breeze took pace early in the morning and people went about their day as they always did, mundane, indifferent and shallow.

At eleven, the festival was well into place, manifesting in the many churches of the town, the celebration was going smoothly, respectfully managed, the forgotten recalled and honored, and by any other accounts, typically normal like any other ceremony, as a repetitive cycle that has been going on for years.

At noon, the first emergency call was made by a frightened child to the closest police station; his parents, along with the entirety of twenty people including the priest have simply vanished in thin air. The call was perceived as a prank call until the second one followed soon after from another church with the same claim. This time the call was made by the priest himself.

By two in the afternoon the whole department was in a panic, not only similar calls have been made from all across the country, but the same has been reported from overseas, like an unfurling flower the disaster increased across towns, mostly in small communities and breached out to the bigger crowd. Muggles were running in panic, no-majs were confused, emergency measures were called and the red button was figuratively smashed down by several authorities.

One particular meeting took place in London, the prime minister’s office, the same evening of ‘The day all Saints have vanished’, as head titles seemed to suggest. The man himself had a deep frown etched on his sun burned forehead, his hands were tightly intertwined, and his knuckles clenched in rhythm with his shortened puffs of breath.

Across him sat a pudgy man in dark green robes that any insensitive person might call an ‘overly ridiculous nightgown’.

“I must say I’m confused sir, I don’t see how any of these reports have anything to do with me.” The pompous man exclaimed after quickly skimming over the folders, a few pieces of parchments circulated around the man’s ridiculous hat, as the man waved his ‘wand’.

The furrowed man’s scowl deepened. “You told me that I was under an obligation to inform you of any paranormal activities that might be explained with…Magic.” He bit out the word with difficulty, still finding the notion hard to believe.

The obnoxiously droopy eyed man nodded distractedly. “I understand, but I must say that your call was quite unnecessary, this wasn’t done by magic dear minister.”

“How could it not be magic?! A total of two hundred people have simply vanished from the face of the earth and you’re saying it’s not sorcery?” the minister roared, finally smacking the old cherry wood table with all his might. The minister of magic huffed at the action and the parchments fell onto the ground at once.

“Magic is not boundless and as wild as you’re implying. A roomful of people cannot simply be vanished out of existence with magic while leaving no evidence, no mind the logics, the act itself would be impossible without leaving a trace. Merlin’s beard! Even Dumbledore himself wouldn’t be able to do that if given the order!” Minister Fudge spat out, his face was hot and red with anger, the man was blinking rapidly, as if trying to correct his vision.

The prime minister rubbed at his temples. “Then what is this? Do you know who could’ve caused this? You spoke of this ‘you know who’ person. Could it have been him?” he asked, drawing the name out of distant yet vivid memory.

“Great Circe, no.” the man snorted. “Such claims about You-know-who’s return is all most likely a sham, I assure you, we would’ve known if… surely not…” the man trailed off, jaw hanging half open and his eyes glazed over.

“Minister Fudge.” The prime minister addressed coldly, jolting the pudgy faced man out of his daze. Minister Fudge recollected his wits, and straightened his robes.

“No, it can’t be him.” The man insisted.

“Your political affairs are none of my business minister Fudge, but I’m sure you know the reason why I can’t cross these incidents out as mere accidents.”

“I do understand, I also can’t help but get the constant impression that you’re arrogantly pointing the blame on us. As I told you before, Muggle regulation laws restrict each witch or wizard from committing such a vile act. I advise you to wait and see if a logical explanation pops up, if it didn’t then we shall start investigating the case.”

“You could investigate the case now.” The prime minster growled out.

Minister Fudge fumbled with his robes for a moment before schooling his expression to a cold glare. “Muggle regulation laws forbid the magical community to do so. At least, until it is proven otherwise.” He quoted, proceeding to infuriate the muggle minister even further.

“This couldn’t be normal; it /should/ be related to magic or supernatural activities somehow, I believe that's the most rational explanation.” The man insisted.

“Maybe you should renew your belief in god; you muggles seem oddly fond of him, Magic was not involved.” Fudge sputtered out in his blind rage and denial, wildly gesturing to the scattered newspapers on the minister's desk, his comment was met by a cold glare and the pudgy man flushed.

"And as the prime minister, I would have to insist you send your people for investigation anyway. There's no harm in making sure." The man gritted out, the vein on his neck pulsing from the grated nerves.

Fudge, still flushing from his earlier outburst, nodded half-heartedly. "Yes... We'll see about that."

“Thank you for notifying me, I would be sending a few Aurors to inspect the locations." he stood, and brushed off his robes. "Even you-know-who himself couldn’t escape without leaving a magical trace. Good evening dear Minister.” The man tipped his head with his wand in a flair of anger and frustration and vanished from sight with a pop, leaving the prime minister bewildered in an empty office with two untouched teacups as company.

*
*

10th November

The vanishing kept on plowing through people from all over the world; people of all ages, gender and occupations have just disappeared in board daylight, presumably stolen from their homes, work, and even in their cars in the streets.

It shouldn’t have been a big deal, normally the magical world or the investigating department in the ministry had little to do with muggle affairs, even if the accidents had been classified as ‘paranormal’ and kept on thriving without hesitation, the wizarding community lived their lives in peace.

That was until the head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures never showed up at his post the morning of November the tenth, which resulted in a delivery spam in a busy day such as werewolf registration day, the following events almost caused a riot when the Department of International Magical Cooperation reported that all his employees have gone missing all at the same time from different locations all throughout neighborhood countries.

In the middle of this chaos, Fudge’s personal assistant Percy Weatherby had never gotten back from his five minute lunch break (evidently he had never made it to his office in the first place) and the minister was lost in the throes of a dull meeting with Mr.Greengrass regarding the school regulations and Umbridge’s tremendous success in handling Hogwarts for the good portion of the day.

By evening, the minister had received another set of reports claiming that the Parkinson’s had all seemingly /disappeared/ in the middle of a customary tea party with the Malfoys, leaving no signs of magic of any kind in their leave, Lucius Malfoy, while immediately declaring innocence, expressed his concerns by launching a private investigation the same very evening as five head Aurors also never gotten back from their mission.

It was like a plague; by the fifteenth day, no one was to be trusted, witches and wizards thought it to be Lord Voldemort’s reining terror, despite the Daily Prophet’s denial and the continuation of them slandering both Harry Potter, and Albus Dumbledore. The ministry had no explanations to offer and Voldemort had not taken any claims on the supposed ‘attacks’.

Was it a spell? Was it intentional? Was someone behind the job or was it Mother Nature that had turned on them?

By 21st November, instead of getting prepared for the yule and celebrations, terror seized the crowd, some even quit their jobs in hopes to stay a little longer with their family; it was then that the magical world slowly begun its journey to sink their ship in the sea of realization. The moment when they all suddenly conceded; ‘Oh damn, it’s coming for all of us.’

Half of Muggle’s entire population had disappeared, so had a noticeable amount of the wizarding world’s population, December first dawned in a ghostly silence; all governments fumbled and even the dark lord finally stepped in to offer help, much to everyone’s horror and confusion.

Two days later, a group of fine Aurors (on the behalf of the ministry) sought out the offer, without contacting Dumbledore or official Order members of the deed, but thankfully, Mad eye Moody, was the one in lead, leaving no room for arguing or doubt.

They were almost to the meeting point, behind the small flocks of snow covered trees over the hill in Little Hangelton, a group of Aurors (nine with Moody himself) portkeyed to the town and ventured their way to the hill.

“Are we sure about this Alfred? Trusting the Dark Lord of all people seems like madness.” One of the Aurors asked Moody’s right hand man, the biting cold had painted his face an embarrassing shade of red.

The tall blonde man in question turned, facing his colleague with a grim expression on his face. “It’s the end of times Berry, even you know who can see that.”

The other man quivered in fright, sweat rolled on his forehead in perfectly round beads. “He could be the one behind this! This could be a trap…”

Alfred cut him off with a grimace. “Even if it is, this is what we became Aurors for Berry, to save lives. I for one don’t want to lose the love of my life if I could help it. If it’s my own life then so be it.”

“Neither do I want to die if the guy behind this sham is you know who.” Berry muttered under his breath.

Mad eye smacked his staff hard on the ground; the crisp frozen grass was crunched under the weight of his fake leg. “Stop your yapping Stinson; you could’ve been dead if a deatheater had snuck up on you.”

“Aren’t they supposed be our allies now sir?” Berry snapped back, clutching his wand a bit higher grudgingly.

Moody actually turned and glowered at the quivering man. “Would you say the same thing, if I was the one hexing you from behind? /constant vigilance! / You’re an Auror for Merlin’s…” mid-sentence the man was no more than thin air, the Aurors all yelped, gaping at Moody’s fallen staff. There was no sound, no indication or evidence that pointed at the man’s sudden vanishing, nothing.

The Aurors frantically formed a protective circle around mad eye’s staff; their wands brandished in the air and loosely pointed to each other as their eyes darted around the clearing.

“Where did he go?” someone asked, their voice filled with fright, and their hand trembling.

“It doesn’t matter Jensen, be alert.” Alfred snapped, the Aurors complied, Alfred was Moody’s second in command, and obeying his orders would be like obeying the grumpy paranoid man himself.

“Someone’s there!” a voice cried out and all wands were immediately pointed at the robed figure, approaching from the edge of the woods, a silver mask etched upon his face.

They instantly went on the defensive mode, a protective shield was drawn around them in case they were being ambushed and each Auror was on alert, though on Fred’s silent command, they didn’t hex the death eater.

“Where’s Auror Moody?” the death eater asked as soon as he was in hearing range. The group tensed and looked at their leader for orders. Alfred narrowed his hazel eyes, and lowered his wand.

“He vanished in thin air a few moments ago.” He said honestly. Seeing no point in lying anyways, as the death eater had not drawn his wand on them. Cries of protest were stifled among his troop.

The death eater tensed, his robes shuffling as he did a double back.

“We have a problem here.” The death eater said slowly, his voice strained behind the mask.

“What?” Jensen snapped at the man, his wand tightly clenched in hand.

The death eater shook his head, not in reluctance but in astonishment. “The dark lord is also gone.”

*
*

That evening, Snape and I actually went to the porch and sat by the ajar front door, we had spent the day mostly in compatible silence; each of us deep in thought as the earth completed another round and the sun was about to set. I gazed at the dimmed flickering horizon of the trees, wishing that I was there, not lonely or by myself exactly… but away from Snape’s overwhelming presence.

“Is it too late to go back and get my stuff?” I asked. My fingers traced the concrete next to my knees. The weather wasn’t agreeable the more it got closer to sunset; a definite chill had settled over the air, the waft of the night sky filled my nostrils as insects started crying for attention. Staying in here was terribly different than the ones I spent in the woods and I was feeling something akin to homesickness.

It seemed, even in silence, the town of Joy couldn’t stop screeching in my head.

“Where is your… den located?” Snape asked from somewhere behind me, only half of his body was out of the door, hence the ajar door, now adorned with a single hole that I had shot through two days ago.

I shrugged. “I don’t know the directions exactly; it’s far into the woods, a two hour walk from here.” My only signs were the few article of clothing I had sacrificed in order to find my way in, mostly my own hand me downs rags that were graciously given to me by my aunt.

“Do you know how to find your way in the dark?” I turned to face the man’s passive and thoughtful expression, surprised at the lack of anger or sarcasm in his tone, my fingers involuntarily scraped on the hard cement. Snape raised an eyebrow and leaned back, wand in his left hand, and crossed over his left side of body. I scowled.

“I can find my way through the woods just fine.” I snapped at the man. “I meant the wild animals that would be roaming the forest, there should be quite a few of them around, and I don’t want to be around them in this dark.” This man obviously hadn’t encountered a bear’s close up face only fourteen inches apart from his; if he had he wouldn’t have made that weary expression that seemed to question my lucidity and common sense.

“I’m a wizard Potter;” he stated the obvious with the same weary face “your biggest concern shouldn’t be a few rogue dogs running around.” Dark sarcasm dripped from his voice like poison and the tension in my shoulders lightened; I knew this Snape, this bastard was the same potion master terrorizing students and deducing points because ‘ you were breathing too loud.’ Or ‘Blinked too hard.’ Or didn’t ‘shut your idiotic face.’ In his presence.

I glared hatefully at his red flannel shirt (he was looming over me, and I couldn’t crane my neck and gaze in his eyes for too long.)

“A wand wouldn’t help you in the forest, that’s not a warning, it’s a fact. Not in the dark anyways.” I growled out as I gritted my teeth. A rifle and pent up magic saved me from a bear attack, I doubted Snape would be as quick.

Snape rolled his eyes. “Words of wisdom coming from the jungle brat, maybe I should start taking notes.”

My nails agonizingly dragged on the cement porch as I stood. “Maybe you should.” Then, I sighed irritatingly.

“I didn’t bring this up to start an argument Snape. I wanted to ask a question, I was going to ask if you could apparate us there, without ever being in the den before. I’m not that eager to die, or to get torn apart by those ‘hungry rogue dogs’ by wandering in those woods for hours.”

Snape’s sneer was finally shadowed by the lack of sun’s presence, the insects started chirping louder, and I found myself drowning the urge to shoot the man again. God, the bliss would have been amicably welcome.

“No Potter, one can’t apparate to an unknown location in the woods, nor can one side-long apparate with a magically instable brat like you. We’ll go there by foot, tomorrow morning.”

I dusted my /borrowed/ pants, and grimaced as I saw the dried mud caking my new trainers, dammit, I cursed, I only had those since yesterday. Snape’s arm steadied me as I stumbled momentarily. “You could’ve just said that without the venom.” I yanked my arm away, and shouldered past him, back to the warmth and comfort of the house. The door was slammed behind me as Snape strode past and disappeared in the kitchen.

“I’ll be out of here tomorrow at five, if you bothered to join me, I wouldn’t have to hike alone.” I said loudly enough for the man to hear, and crossed the hallway, immediately settling on my couch.

From my earlier investigations, the house, Snape and I were crashing in, belonged to a nice average Muggle family. One that I never got to experience by myself, but had known existed; a tight knit family with two average children, who were smiling brightly to the camera with missing teeth, and their kind looking mom to the dad who was obviously the one taking the picture.

I didn’t know why Snape had left the pictures untouched; they had been grating on my conscious since I found them that morning, after my conversation with the potion master. To me the man didn’t seem like a morally entitled guy, so maybe he was too lazy to bother, or simply didn’t care as much as I did, but seeing those pictures hanging on the walls, the traces that this family had left all around the house… it made me nauseous.

I drew my knees to my chest; feeling oddly frightened compared to the night before, aside from the fact that I was drugged, last night was exhausting enough that I didn’t think twice about dozing off on the couch. Staying the night with /Snape/ in a /ghost town/ seemed easy then, now it felt as if their phantoms were hunting us.

I missed my sleeping bag, even though it smelled, or my stolen clothes or the feel of the night’s gentle breeze caressing my face as I gazed up to find Sirius, somewhere lost in the sky, just like me. I didn’t belong in someone else’s home.

The hairs on my body bolted upright, and I was taken aback by the sudden chill settling over me, there was no way that I was getting out of this house, until it was sunrise, the idea of staying over in here for the second night in a row, in a town that was once filled with people, including the muggle family on the walls shook me. It rattled my inwards, exceedingly close to bringing me to the verge of tears again.

“Are you taking the couch again?” Snape asked me once he reentered the room, two steaming mugs in his hands.

Similar mugs that were only different in color, it was the children’s mugs. I realized in horror.

“I’m not sleeping in the children’s room.” My voice sounded strained to my own ears, Snape’s hand accompanied the mug he was handing to me, as if he knew I would drop it otherwise.

The man clicked his tongue. “Stop thinking about it Potter. Trust me, you’re not being productive or even remotely right about this.”

I gaped at him. “There were two. They barely looked ten, and I’m wearing the /boy’s/ pants.”

It seemed just as the sun dawned, so did my courage. It didn’t surprise me; nights were probably the only time I gave myself the right to freak about the events that I had no time to rethink during the day. This morning, wearing the boy’s pants merely saved me from the embarrassment of being naked in front of my teacher, now it stuck and itched on my skin like it knew it didn’t belong to me.

I was wearing a dead boy’s clothes.

“It’s /altered/ Potter.” Snape supplied unhelpfully. “As you said, the kid was barley ten.”

Unlocking my arms, I let go of my knees and stared at the man in astonishment. “So you’re not bothered by this at all? That the people in this house are all unfairly dead, that you’re using their things to scrape by in this miserable world, and wearing their clothes so you wouldn’t regress to being a fucking caveman… How could you not be bothered by that?!” somewhere in the middle of my speech, anger seeped into my voice, rising as every word spilled out in quivers.

“I was bothered by that Potter, I’m not a monster, but I also know that in order to survive, sometimes we need to take extreme measures. This isn’t even /close/ to the extreme Potter, transfiguration, conjuring and other spells only work so much. The less you ponder on these the better for your health.” The man answered smoothly, I fell back on the couch with a sigh, my face closed off any expression.

I knew that I wouldn’t sleep tonight, the couch would barely make a difference with my guilty conscious and sense of worth, and I wasn’t really accustomed to sleeping in here.

Snape looked me dead in the eye, calmly sipping his tea. “The tea helps.” I looked down at the grim color of the liquid, and the sluggish swirls of white steam wafted a strange scent into my nose.

“What did you put in it?” it wasn’t a question as much as it was a statement, this was what he had fed me last night too, and I slept like a baby all night; my stress levels were high enough now to accept this drug induced tea just so I can get a shut eye.

“Something that helps; it’s a combination of calming draught and a secret ingredient. Don’t worry Potter, it’s safe, it’s the same mix I gave you last night.”

“This is so fucked up.” I muttered. I was willingly about to drug myself, in someone else’s presence. Snape could kill in my sleep, like he could have last night. The self-betrayal was equally as satisfying as much as it stung.

Snape didn’t look up from the spot he was staring at. “I agree.” He said.

He didn’t urge me to drink the tea, and only finished his own in silence, as his mug was bottomed up and the content all drunken, the man set the blue mug on the small coffee table next to him and stood, accio’ing his journal, he then settled by my feet. Just like last night.

I decided that if I wanted to attack Snape or at least drag some information out of him, I might as well drink the damn thing to preserve some of my energy, and get some sleep for the second night in row.

It tasted like any other tea with a hint of an herb I couldn’t identify, I quickly drained the whole mug and set it next to the disturbing family picture set on the coffee table, and my eyes momentarily caught the young boy’s. So radiant and happy and innocent, I thought sluggishly, yet he died and I’m living.

Despite Snape’s obvious efforts, I still had the same nightmare I had been having for months.

*
*

"I'm tired of this! I'm out!" My voice rattled the very core of the room. Even with blazing fire in the hearth, my voice made every blood run cold. And I was aware of it.

"Don't you dare step out of the tower Harry Potter. We're supposed to stay together, it helps!"

"Help how?! They're gone! Everybody's gone! No one is going to care if another one disappears. We're all going to die anyways." I could tell that I was in the throes of a mental breakdown; I numbly detected the signs as the surreal scene took place before me.

There are many things that would reveal a person’s true character; being in near death situation was one of those, and although I had been put in that position many times, my true colors showed when there seemed to be no way of survival. I can safely say that I was only second to Lavender Brown when it came to hysteria.

As expected Ron was the first to flip out. "You of all people don’t get to say that. I lost everyone! My parents, my brothers, Ginny's gone, and you only pity your own sorry ass? You bastard!"

For once, no one called Ron on his language. Hermione didn't jump in to scold, she agreed, she has lost people too. People that I never dreamt of having in my life. An orphan had nothing to lose in a situation like this.

"You think I don't mourn them as you do?!" I tried to be sympathetic, because I truly was. I missed Ginny too, I missed the Weasleys too.

"No you have no idea how it feels like. You have no one!" Ron punched a wall. The wall nearest to him, several people jumped, Hermione hurried off to get McGonagall... Ron punched the wall again.

I was stunned, I had no one.

The world was crumbling down, and I was sorry for my own ass. I was a horrible person. They already lost too much... I was nothing. What was a best friend in comparison to the person's family? Everything. Ron and Hermione were everything to me. But I wasn't theirs. It just made sense.

As of in a trance, I turned, ignored every voice calling me to come back, and brushed off the hands, even the bloodied knuckles that halfheartedly tugged at my sleeve. I tore myself away. But then something happened. Something that hadn’t happened in the memory.

My way was blocked.

"Stay Potter.” Snape’s voice commanded me out of nowhere. “Stay and they don't have to go too. You don't have to be alone. It would be your fault. Their deaths would be on you... Don't leave. This isn’t a punishment." Tears rimmed in my eyes, I knew in an instant that this was the point in which I had to either turn back to Snape’s stoic face and apologize or stomp my way out in an angry march.

I knew this was a dream, I knew whether I turned or not, they would disappear anyways, but the blurred voices behind my back were too tempting for me to ignore, the voices calling my name, telling me to turn. Clear and loud, but blurred nonetheless.

Notwithstanding the urge to at least try to get them back, I paused, I couldn't resist anymore; I turned to face my friends in a flash.

Gone. The room was empty.