Note: The title of this story means `To live or not to live' with `to be' meaning `to exist'.

This ficlet is dedicated to all the tsunami victims, all over south-east Asia, and Africa, who lost their lives, their loved ones, their homes and their friends though nature's rage

To Be Or Not To Be

Tragedy

The air was filled with clouds of dust, that had been triggered by the collapse, into motion. Nostrils flamed as toxic fumes lingered in the air. Smoke billowed up into the atmosphere and stayed static in its position as if awaiting the onset of fresh winds from the sea to blow it away. Yet the sea was too far, and smoke continued to rise and choke the air over the ruined castle.

The ruins were those of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, probably the most celebrated school in the wizarding community worldwide. It was here that the final battle between the forces of good and evil had been fought. It was here that the hammer's stroke of Lord Voldemort's attack had fallen the hardest. The battle now gave life to a new hope among people but in doing so, it took away the life of Hogwarts itself.

The proud walls that had once stood erect and tall, had now crumbled into a heap of nothingness, with the enchantments that provided them with inner strength to withstand any assault having been decimated. There was no life there, only blood and the mortal remains of those who had given their blood to defend an endangered civilization.

Vultures and other carrion fowl were gathered in the air, smelling blood and death, awaiting their chance to feed on flesh. But an unknown force kept them at bay. People were now pouring in onto the scene of the battle - people wearing cloaks and robes - all of them carrying wands. They were trying to assess the damage, and at the same time, rescue those who still might have some life left in them.

The injured were now being carried off for treatment and the dead were being removed, due respect being given to their mortal forms, and the contributions they had made in the battle and the war. It was a black night - the blackest night that the wizarding world had ever seen. So many had died, an equal number had been injured. But the real shock lay in the fact that Hogwarts - the cornerstone upon which all the magical community in Britain had been established - was now razed to the ground.

Yet hope remained still, for where people survive, there remains a will to fight against all odd circumstances; and where there is a will, there remains a way for all those who may dare take it. The war was now over, yet a lot of work had to be done. The dead had to be buried; and a new world had to be resurrected, based on a just order, even as doom gave the illusion of not having passed and stared everyone in the face still - a haunting reminder to the world that was nearly destroyed. Its fading footsteps could still be heard; and its effects, still be felt.

But Harry Potter noticed none of this. He was the hero of the wizarding world, their saviour - the one who had rid the world of the terror of Lord Voldemort. He was the one who stood alone, opposite the Dark Lord and he was the one who finally brought an end to his menace. One spell - just one spell - and he was killed, never again to sully the earth with his footprints. By the time that had happened though, everything had fallen apart. Indeed, victory demanded a great price.

Even as he looked frantically here and there, Harry saw many of the members of the Order of the Phoenix. Albus Dumbledore was directing the `Search, Rescue and Retrieval' operations. He saw Dedalus Diggle and Nymphadora Tonks - their bodies being carried away on magically conjured stretchers. Whether they were dead or alive, Harry could not tell. He saw the Weasley clan, standing in a huddle with Mrs Weasley fussing over them - all safe but not unharmed. On seeing Harry, she quickly rushed over to his side, exclaiming all the while about the wounds he had sustained and calling a Healer to see to him. But Harry just shrugged her off. He did not want mollycoddling now. He wanted peace and silence. He wanted to find her.

Finally, he saw her, not far from where he had achieved his victory. She was lying serenely on her back, her eyes closed, her lips curled slightly in a smile. He knew it was of no use, that she would never hear him, but he still took her into his arms, brushed away gently the few strands of hair that shrouded her face, and whispered, “Hermione!”

Her body was already getting cold. But Harry didn't mind that at all. He pulled her lifeless form even closer to himself. He kept repeating, “Hermione, wake up now. He is gone. We can have peace now. Wake up, Hermione.” But to no avail.

Finally, Dumbledore came up to him and putting a hand on his shoulder, said, “Harry, it's of no use. She's gone. Let her go.”

Harry's shoulders slumped. What Dumbledore said lent a finality to what he had known and dreaded, ever since he saw and heard Hermione getting struck by Lord Voldemort's killing curse. His eyes now took up the sight of the ground, and there he spotted it.

He placed her gently on the ground, still believing that it would hurt her if he wasn't gentle. Dumbledore asked him in a worried voice, “Harry, where are you going?” but he didn't answer. He was too engrossed with the prospect of seeing her again.

He broke into a short sprint even as he stumbled against the body of a Death Eater, lying prostrate before him, his lifeless eyes staring out of the hideous mask that he once proudly wore. He neared it and collapsed on his knees beside it. There it lay, the harbinger of everything that had happened there that night - his nemesis' wand - the wand whose brother he himself wielded.

Harry's hand trembled as he picked it up in his left hand. His own wand was in his right. Slowly, he whispered, “Expelliarmus!”

The spell had the desired effect as both the wands got connected by a golden beam. Harry concentrated all his faculties and finally the beam migrated from his own wand to the other and connected with the other.

Then he saw her as she emerged from the tip of the enemy's wand, a sole white figure and straightened herself from the ground.

“Hermione!” Harry said.

She nodded sadly.

“Hermione!” Harry said again, unable to say anything else. He could see other figures now emerging from his wand, but they seemed to stay away from the both of them, as if they knew that it was a moment for Harry and Hermione.

“Let it go, Harry.” Hermione requested, her tone still sad.

“No.” Harry replied.

“Please Harry. Release me. Please let me go.” She entreated him.

“I love you, Hermione. I can't let you go.” He screamed at her, tears streaming down his face.

“I know it's difficult,” Hermione said. “But you have to do this. For yourself, and for me.”

“I can't live without you, Hermione. I can't let you go. I want to die.”

“Don't. I know you love me, Harry, and that it's difficult to imagine a life. Even I can't do that now. But you have to. You must. You must live your life, and mine too. You will have to live the lives of two people now. You have to help the world recover, you have to make sure that evil doesn't emerge again, during your life time. You have to live, for me.”

Harry shook his head.

“Harry.” Hermione said finally. “I promise you that I will wait for you up there, even until you come. I will not move on without you and that we will begin our journey after death together, but you must promise me that you will live your full life. You will not dwell in memories and fulfil your destiny.”

“I don't know what my destiny is.” Harry said, haplessly.

“But you will discover it, as you move along.” Hermione said. “Please promise me, Harry; please promise upon our love.”

Harry finally nodded. He said solemnly, “I promise.”

“Break the connection now, Harry.” Hermione entreated. “Let me go.”

Harry nodded again. He was bound by his word. He broke the connection and the figures began to fade. But even as her echo disappeared, he heard her voice, as if it were borne upon the wings of the wind, “Remember that I love you Harry, and I always will.”

Harry sighed. He looked down to his left hand. He didn't want to do it, but he had to. He placed his wand tip on the other wand, and muttered, “Lagana Inflamori!”

Blue fire shot out of his wand, and it reminded him of her, from back in their first year. He held the ignited wand till it burnt away and its ashes got scattered by the wind, that was beginning to pick up now. His hand was burnt, but he didn't mind. He was smarting under greater hurt now.

Harry walked back over to her lifeless body, and hugged her, one last time. Even as he did so, he looked over instinctively to the east and saw a red sun rising. Dawn had arrived in the wizarding world. Soon it would be morning.

But he knew in his heart, that no matter how many mornings he spent in his life, the life of Harry Potter would never see the dawn of a morning, never except one.

Author's Note:

It's a very angsty fic, this one. I got this plot bunny while I was doing some relief work with my team from the National Cadet Corps (NCC) to help the tsunami victims in Tamil Nadu (India). I met this man there, who had lost his wife in the tsunami when she was swept away by a wave. They were newly-wed and had been in love with each other for ten years. It was he who told us that her soul had told him to live on, in his life; and that they would be joined again in the afterlife. This ficlet is dedicated to all the tsunami victims, all over south-east Asia, and Africa, who lost their lives, their loved ones, their homes and their friends though nature's rage. And it is dedicated especially to the aforesaid couple, who will never meet again within the realms of this earth.