Author's Note: This randomly came to me. Also, do you like the Dumbledore quote I slipped in? :) Please review!
The year is 1998. The day is May 3rd. Yesterday, countless wizards and witches, werewolves and giants, and other magical creatures died. Colin Creevey, the little adorable boy who always annoyed Harry and took pictures of everything with his Muggle camera (Dad would have loved him) was murdered. Vincent Crabbe, Malfoy's follower, burnt in the Room of Requirement. Bellatrix Lestrange, He Who Must Not Be Named's most loyal Death Eater, was killed by my mother. Remus Lupin, a werewolf who was in the Order, and his wife, Tonks, also in the Order, were a casualty of the battle. Severus Snape, a spy for both sides who was really only on Harry's side, was killed by a snake. He Who Must Not Be Named died as well; Harry killed him. These were casualties of the war. I know it must sound cruel and heartless, but I don't care that any of them died. None of them really mattered to me. Unlike Fred.
It is morning, yet the sun seems to have paused in its rising. A fog surrounds the castle and it is eerily silent, though no one is sleeping. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stand on the bridge, looking weary but happy that they are alive. Everyone looks weary. Inside the castle, the professors who survived try to repair the ruins. The students try to heal the injured or whisper, none of them sitting at the correct House table anymore. Even Filch and Mrs. Norris do not make a sound – they just sit against the wall, Filch stroking his cat repeatedly.
The Giant Squid has not appeared since the battle began and the lake seems darker than usual. Dark and murky, like the memories of the battle. The grounds are desolate and barren. The Whomping Willow shifts silently back into its normal position. My family, minus Ron, is huddled around a lifeless body, which lies on the cold ground in the Great Hall. Other families, students, teachers, and friends huddle around their dead as well. No one in my family is crying. Their tears have dried, after crying all night.
Angelina Johnson walks up to me. That shimmer that used to always appear in her eyes is gone and will never return. Each pair of eyes around me has changed. Each pair of eyes now mirrors a skeleton of the old eyes. Everyone who witnessed the battle has changed.
Angelina takes my hand and pulls me out of the Great Hall and onto the grounds. The sun has fully risen now and is right above us. It is strange how it can be sunny on such a sullen day. Angelina gasps and points ahead. Sunlight streams through the Forbidden Forest and its reflection glistens on the lake. The Forest does not seem as scary as it had been now. Compared to the battle, it is nothing.
Angelina turns to me and says, "Quiet, isn't it?" I do not reply, not wanting to ruin the quiet. Quiet is usually peaceful or serene but this quiet is neither. This quiet is nothing but eerie. Angelina sighs and whispers, "Numbing the pain for a while will only make it worse when you finally feel it." I do not react. I cannot. I am numb. I am lost. Lost in wisps of memories that ground me and make me cry inside until I no longer remember who I even am. Finally, I decide that the quiet of the castle, the grounds, the quiet of my mind, has gone on too long.
"It feels so strange without him," I tell her. She puts a hand on my shoulder and instructs me to think not of the past and present but of a better future.
"How can I imagine a future when I know he will not be in it?" I ask and she just shakes her head and smiles sadly. She takes my hand again and we walk slowly back to the castle. I stare up at it, wondering how the professors are able to fix it within a matter of hours. The sun is still high in the sky and the mist surrounding the castle has gone. A soft rainfall starts and Angelina smiles, glancing up at the sky. The rain cleans the castle and the grounds. It almost purifies them but we all know only too well that the castle will never be truly purified. No one will forget what happened.
The rain pours down harder and Angelina laughs. I stare at her. How can she laugh now? "How . . .?" I start to ask, but trail off. She whispers, "Look up." I do and see a rainbow. She says, "Without rain, there's no rainbow. It's a sign of hope, George." Fred loved rainbows. Maybe it is a good sign. Sign of hope, though? No. I glance down at the hand that I am holding. A sign of new beginnings.