A painting hangs on the wall of the Minister's office. Most that pass through the space overlook it, or barely glance at it for a few moments. Some care to pay it some more attention, to study the strokes of the brush in hues of scarlet, cerulean and emerald. Few think about asking for its significance, for anyone who was acquainted with the Minister, would know that he had no time for frivolities, and hence such an artifact must be important to him. Fewer, actually ask.

When they do, sometimes they receive a vague smile, accompanied by a far-off expression in his eyes. Sometimes, they get a shake of the head, and an unwillingness to discuss the matter further. Once, somebody claimed to have seen a single tear run down his cheek at the mention of it.

At the end of the day, when they're all gone and the picture is forgotten, he stands in front of it, occasionally for a few minutes, frequently, for longer. He looks and remembers and promises never to forget about its artist and what it meant to her.

There will never be another war, while he is Minister, he whispers.

Each time, he vows, to the woman he loved, that her death would not be in vain.

Notes: Written for the Random Character Challenge

Character: Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Word Count: 215