Even through the war, with dead bodies sometimes just feet away from my face, I thought we were invincible. After all, out of the three years' worth of games of Quidditch, we had only lost one game, which was more like sabotage than an actual loss. Could we possibly die if we had never been properly beaten in a hard-fought game of Quidditch?
But we all have to grow up at some point in our lives, and I can remember the day it happened for me, days away from my twenty-second birthday. We were all fighting for our lives that day, but it never struck me until I passed in front of the Great Hall, where the injured and the dead lay, that a member of my Gryffindor Quidditch team could actually die. I had always thought that we were unstoppable.
I saw his red hair, and I saw the family gathered around his body, tears flowing swiftly down their cheeks. I saw George with the hole where his ear used to be, and I knew that one of the twins was gone, that one of the boys, who could so annoy you one minute and then play brilliant Quidditch the next, was dead. It struck me like lightning that these evil Death Eaters had murdered one of my Beaters. Who did they think they were, killing one of my Beaters?
I thought it with such possessiveness, as if the people who had been on the team my final three years were mine alone. I thought it like we were all still in school, despite the exact opposite being true. I wondered how these people could possibly have the nerve to kill my teammate; didn't they know we were a team?
I just stood there for several minutes, staring at this family surrounding their fallen son, and pictured the old Gryffindor team gathering around Fred exactly like what his family was doing now. Suddenly, though not completely out of line to think, I longed for everybody to come together right then and flat-out weep for our fallen teammate. I wanted for us to gather about his body and remember what a great Beater the world lost that day.
As if on cue, I felt an arm drag along my back, and Katie Bell softly kissed the top of my shoulder, her eyes looking in the same direction as mine. I glanced down at her, and a soft smile appeared on her lips, as if she knew exactly what I was thinking.
"We can honor him for his contribution to the Gryffindor Quidditch team another time," she said in a low voice, trying not to disturb the Weasley family by speaking. "Let them have their time to mourn. After all, it's their son and brother and teammate." Even I had to admit, she was extremely right, like she is most of the time.
It felt strange to feel the way I did then; I did not want to cry for Fred, as though that would somehow be an insult to his legacy, to cry instead of laugh. However, I could not bring myself to even begin to muster up a laugh; there was nothing remotely funny about the situation as I watched his mother sob fiercely at the sight of Fred's dead body. I stood there in shock, not moving, hardly thinking.
The arm wrapped around my waist, and Katie's head leaned against my shoulder. Her hand was shaking from her own crying, and the tears, which had run down her cheeks, now spotted my robes on the shoulder. The feeling of love, which I knew she had for me, somehow leaked through the grief for Fred.
I then thought about what was the thing that You-Know-Who didn't have. Love was what made us grieve for Fred's life being cut short, and love would help us continue to keep pushing on.
I loved Quidditch, I loved my friends, and I loved my team. I was going to be fine.
