AN: Post-Hogwarts. Something that came to me in the shower. Very short drabble about life after the war.
Disclaimer: JKR's toys, not mine.
A statue was built in Diagon Alley to remember the great hero, Harry Potter, who had fallen in the last battle. The Ministry of Magic had ordered it to be built as a lasting example of his bravery, his sacrifice. The statue was built by his friends - the people who had survived the war. They built it in tears, following the diagram given to them directly from the Minister as accurately as they could. People watched in the streets as they made the statue. They stood, solemn, as inch by inch the image became clear.
After the statue was built and placed on the dais in the centre of Diagon Alley, many of the other survivors of the last battle laughed and celebrated. The Minister of Magic himself presented the statue to the rest of the world. Harry Potter, on his knees, begging for his life and the lives of his friends. Tears running through the grime on his face.
The Minister of Magic smiled at the beasts who had built the statue. Hermione Granger - the shackled Mudblood, Remus Lupin - the beast allowed to roam free on nights of the full moon, Ronald Weasley - disgraced pureblood. Yes, these people cried when they were building the statue. They cried, not for the loss of their friend and ally, but because of the harsh whip that lashed across their bare backs and legs as they were forced to lift every block of granite, each one seeming heavier than the rest. They cried for all the other supporters of the Light side who were now under Voldemort's rule. They cried because they knew their death would not be swift, or painless. They cried.