Doubting Thomas By AzarDarkStar

Doubting Thomas

I DO NOT OWN THIS STORY.

                              -O.o.O-
In the end, it isn't Harry Potter who needs to be saved. But another little boy with dark eyes and hair and a soul aching for something he sees all around him but can never have. And just like with Harry, a thousand people see and know but do nothing. Absolutely nothing.

The world crashes down around them piece by piece. Hundreds dying here. A thousand dying in a fire there. Dozens more in little skirmishes all over the globe. Until magic has overrun Muggle, and blood runs through the streets. They always thought themselves so superior. So much better than the magicless animals that dare to call themselves human. Yet, the purebloods are among the first to fall, slaughtered by Muggle mothers and fathers still weeping over the deaths of their own children. Hermione's parents kill dozens of blood purists before they're finally taken down by Arthur Weasley. Who subsequently ends his own life rather than live with the shame.

And the entire universe boils over. More dead now than there are alive. Even as the fighting continues. Even as the Muggles only continue on in self-defense, the very reason they started in the first place. Protecting their families. Protecting themselves.

Harry and she are the last. The only ones to make it out of Hogwarts. Harry has his own brand of luck, which carries over long after the Dark Lord is dead. And Luna… she is saved by a mixture of her family's magic and her own intellect and cunning. None of the others are willing to believe that the castle will fall, but they both know better. Slipping away when their pleas fall on deaf ears.

Harry himself dies protecting children over a year later. Muggle and magical both. All of them crying as wizards tear through them without care. Even the little would-be wand-wavers don't count for much. It's all dirty blood, after all. Tainted by Muggles and poisoned by hypocrisy. Her magical brethren have succeeded where all the ages of civilization and horrible Muggle inventions never could.

It's the end of everything.

Luna may well be the only witch left in Western Europe. And certainly the only sane one. One of the few – magical or Muggle – left under the age of twenty. Holed up on a Black family property that Harry showed her just before his death. Watching the countryside burn from her bedroom window and listening to Dobby weep in the background. He hasn't stopped crying since his friend's death, and Luna thinks that she is the only reason he has yet to follow. Harry wouldn't want her to be left alone like that.

However, even that doesn't last forever. She is caught out on a chilly autumn morning, having gone to help the Muggles from a nearby village. For her effort, she receives a Cutting curse to the chest and two Bludgeoning hexes to the back, and not even the old man trying desperately to save her can do much.

But magic has a power of its own. And it succeeds when everything else fails.

She opens her eyes to blue and cloudless skies. Whole and utterly healthy. Clothes neat and unbloodied if wrinkled. A strange trunk by her feet, the initials "HJP" clearly engraved even from where she's lying.

Harry's last gift to her. To everyone.

-O.o.O-

The house she's just spent the last six months living in is exactly where she left it, though in far better repair. The door opens before she can even touch the knob, and there is a letter for her on the kitchen table. It only makes her suspicions a reality, makes her mind buzz at the sheer level of magic this had to have required. Astronomical.