This is the way the world will end:
The sun will rise in all its blazing glory, shining on all the world, its rays kissing the dew-covered blades of grass. A deep and earthy smell will rise from the ground, filling tiny animal nostrils. Squirrels will pause as they search for their breakfast, noses twitching as they consider. They will then shake their small heads, denying truth that is deeper even than animal instinct, and continue.
The cats will stretch themselves awake as the dogs prick their ears in constant awareness. There will be meowing and whining, scratching against wooden doors and begging to no avail.
The Muggles will wake.
Stretching to the half-awake state they have spent all their lives, half-aware and half-caring, they will grumble. Hundreds of thousands of legs will swing over the side of the bed, search for slippers as mouths open in gaping yawns, arms rising high above heads that are filled with clouds. Eyes will blink, then squint. If necessary, a hand will come up to rub the sleep away from still-tired lids. Feet will shuffle down hallways to any one of thousands of bathrooms. Mouths will gargle, teeth will be brushed and faces examined with excruciating care.
Breakfast will be eaten.
And then, hundreds of thousands of people will leave their houses, slamming doors behind themselves. They will get into their cars, or onto a train, or a bus. Or they will walk. They will stand or sit in idleness on their way to work. Their thoughts will run, scattered, or not move at all. They will arrive. Early, late, on time. It matters not. Most will consider it a continuing drudgery. Some will find purpose in what they do. The doctor, the teacher, the occasional lawyer. They will work. Toil. Labor and otherwise expend themselves. A small handful will find triumph; most will find only frustration.
But then, this is the way of the world.
The time for lunch will come. Tin pails will emerge, together will the brown paper bags and restaurant orders. Women will eat tiny salads, dissecting each tomato and cucumber. The men will wolf down their meals with scarce a thought at all–if they pause long enough to eat to begin with. Drinks will be guzzled. Wrappers will be balled up and discarded. In garbage cans or on city streets it matters not at this point.
Work will continue.
Bosses will yell, employees will gripe, students will complain. Babies will cry. The poor and destitute will hunger. The addicts of the earth will raise shaking hands, begging and demanding the money for just one more fix. A teenager–girl or boy, it makes no difference–will deprive his or herself of a meal by not eating it in the first place or by expelling it from their body. A multitude of someones, somewhere, will wax eternal on the injustices of their mortal life. They will be justified in doing so. Life is, after all, unjust.
It will not continue to be so for much longer.
The work day will end. Again, men and women and teenagers and children will line the streets. Some will enjoy the freedom the next few hours allow them. Some will squander those hours with squabbling and screaming. Others may fill it with meaning: playing with their children, showing their loved ones that they are, in fact, loved. Most will waste this time away in front of a television or computer or some kind of game console. Nintendo, Playstation or Xbox, it makes no difference.
But then, nothing does.
Suppers will then be served. Vegetables will be handed down underneath the table to the family dog, or hidden in napkins or pockets. Restaurants will thrive, for the moment. Drinks will be tossed back, beer will flow and police offers will wonder, again, at the insensitivity of drunk drivers as another innocent bystander is run over. Carelessness will be the creed of the hour. Husbands and wives will argue. Parents and teenagers will fight. Babies will sleep and mothers will love.
Night will fall.
Streetlamps will burst into life and stars will come out. Wishes will be made. Baths will be given and bedtime stories will be read. Children will be tucked in as knots of tension dissolve from the necks and backs of their parents. Elsewhere, veins will pop and strain and curfews are haggled over. Teenagers–and not just a few adults–will get high. There will be sex, (there will always be sex) and somewhere, someone who did not mean to become pregnant, will. The hot prime-time show of the moment will air. Someone might pause to watch something intelligent; in most cases though, it will only be stupidity.
People seem to find intelligence at the end of their day tiring.
The darkness will get darker. Evil will roam the streets and, somewhere, in a dark alley, a kind stranger will help someone in need. It will not make a difference in the long run. It never does. Abusive spouses–husbands and wives alike–will abuse. Boyfriends, and girlfriends, will beat their not-so-significant others. Elsewhere, couples will cuddle. Young children will crawl into bed with their parents, proclaiming nightmares and loneliness. Some parents will welcome their children, others will guide their offspring back to bed; stern or strict or soothing.
The sandman will claim the world in slumber.
This is the way the world will end: in the same pattern that it has followed for the last week, month, year. Decades. Centuries. Millennium. Some days, the good will outweigh the bad. Most days, the bad will outweigh the good. In the end it balances out, so the pursuit of good and evil is truly of no consequence. People will love and hate. Help and hinder. Children will continue to be the most spiteful of living things on this earth, as well as the most hurtful. Mothers will nurture, fathers will support and children, no matter their age, will cause parents to raise their eyes to heaven in supplication.
And somewhere, on a far off hill, or in the depths of some ancient building’s basement, or perhaps an old graveyard–it matters not really, so long as it is somewhere. Somewhere, a young man will raise a slim piece of wood in his hand and utter a word to change the course of the world.
A/N: The original, non-HP version of the story can be found here:
http://circe-groat.livejournal.com/782.html