The Price
"We are gathered here today to mourn the losses that have been incurred because of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his tyrannical thirst for power. Though his forces have been defeated, this war has not been without its many casualties. Many of you have lost someone; be they friend, or family. And though the pain you feel now seems as though it will overwhelm you, remember that their sacrifice has brought about a new peace. The dark forces have been defeated and, even when they can't be here to see it, they would not want you to wallow in despair. They gave their lives so that we could all live free. Honor that sacrifice, honor the price they paid in blood."
Harry couldn't listen to this anymore. The tufty-haired wizard, who had presided over Dumbledore's funeral and Bill and Fleur's wedding, was addressing the survivors of the Battle of Hogwarts. There they all were, seated on the castle ground, listening to this little fool talking about a thing he didn't understand. However poetic his words, he didn't know the truth about the pain that coursed through Harry's veins. The guilt that stabbed at his heart. Tonks. Remus. Fred. They were dead because of him. Teddy would never know his parents because of him. Turning his head, he saw Mrs. Weasley and George, both holding each other and sobbing uncontrollably. He was the reason that Fred was dead. He was the reason that George had been left alone in the world for the first time in his life.
Harry turned away from them, desperately trying to find something to distract him from the emotional tornado overwhelming his mind. Unfortunately, his eyes fell upon the family of Colin Creevey. Pangs of guilty and regret shot through him again. Dennis, Colin's brother, had introduced Harry to his parents before the ceremony had started. Harry wasn't sure what had hurt more; the pain in the Creevey's eyes or that fact that they had thanked Harry for being Colin's friend. Tears began to flow down Harry's face. He wished he'd been somewhat nicer to Colin. Now it was too late. He turned back towards the tufty-haired wizard. Whatever pain his speech caused Harry, it was nothing compared to the pain of his regrets.
Ravenclaw, Prefect, Drabble, Regret, 375