Harry sat, eyes glistening with tears as he remembered, remembered all those who had fallen. Fallen for him, fallen for freedom. It had been months since the war, and Christmas was on the horizon, yet no-one could enjoy it with one of their own laying in self-pity. Slowly, Ron came and sat next to his best friend.
"It's all my fault isn't Ron"?
"No Harry" replied Ron " listen, they fought for freedom and justice against a madman, and fought for what they believed to be right. So if that meant following one hell of a leader, then that's what they would do"
"-But they still followed me"
"They followed a great man"
"still…"
"Harry James Potter, listen and listen well. We are all just stories to be told. So when you believe you are nothing, and you feel like your life is going nowhere- just remember, the next chapter of our book, our life story, must be a difficult one to write, after all, there is no agony like having an untold story within you. You've got to let go of what happened in May, we won, nothing anybody died for was in vain, that bastard and all his Death Munchers were taken down. Harry your life is the story, and you are the story-teller. Tell it, write it, embrace it, for you only get one chance at it. Those who died reached the final chapters in their books, if it was their time, we must stand and honour the time they had with us and not on the time we spend without them. War tore our family apart Harry, but family and love is what will glue it back together again"
Harry looked on in shock, for a change everything Ron had said made tangible sense to the listener. Ron was a great friend, a little wisdom here and there, and nothing would tear their family apart.
"Thanks Ron" said Harry sincerely "I needed that"
"No problem mate, now come on, join the Christmas spirit"
Harry pulled Ron into a firm embrace before joining him in walking back towards the Burrow.
Two brothers united in the hope for a better future. Friends by chance, brothers by choice, family by the love given and taken.