The Grave

Hi everybody!

This is the translation of my German one-shot "The Grave". It's my first fan fiction and I hope you understand it, though I'm not a native English-speaker.

Words: 647

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter Universe, everything belongs to J.K.Rowling.

I you recognize something that resembles another fic, please tell me so. I didn't mean to copy another story but maybe some things come from other fan fictions (I read quite a few…)

Enjoy it!

The Grave

The sun was setting slowly. I was still standing there. The others had left long ago.

I looked upon the grave sorrowful, but no tears would come. Without fear you went to HIM, entered the lions den. You have left us behind, knowing that you would never see one of us again. You have overpowered all sadness; you have shown us the fun, the joy of life. But we didn't take care of you, we haven't noticed the signs. If we only had known earlier what moved you when you had this absent look. When you were there you fought them in a way that shocked us. You returned the like, but we couldn't hold it against you. You were still the same, somewhere deep in you heart.

When did you learn those things? How did you manage to keep it secret from us?

You knocked everyone off until you were standing before HIM. You knew the only way to defeat HIM; nobody sensed what you were up to, but we all were proud of you. Proud of what you've done, proud that you have fought to the bitter end, proud of what you have learned.

And we all knew that there was no kinder, wiser or better wizard than you. You were and you are our hero, though you didn't want to be one. Your character, your personality made you one, not your doings.

HE shot the worst of all curses upon you… and suddenly there was a sword in your hand, and we wondered how it could escape from its cabinet. You warded the curse off, approached him even more, nothing could stop you now.

And then you said those words, nobody could understand it, how could you do that? Have you forgotten what he had done to you? Who where you in that moment? The kind, almighty God or a little, eleven year old pupil? You told HIM: 'I forgive you!' HE as well was paralysed with shock and astonishment; you gouged your sword into HIS body and HE let out an inhuman scream and dissolved into dust.

However, you knew about the prophecy, you alone knew, what was in store for you now, only you knew those words: 'And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives'.

And you understood it right, for when HE dissolved, you disappeared as well.

Now I stand here, before your grave, and now, as I become aware of the fact, that you will never return, tears part from my eyes and flow down my cheeks. I will never again see your smile; I will never again look into your sparkling green eyes. Slowly I turn around and abandon the cemetery, hours after the last mourners. They have held a wonderful sad speech, everyone blew ones nose, and wiped away some fictive tears, but their grief was not real.

They didn't grieve for you, but for their fallen hero, for someone who saved their lives and gave his one life for them. But afterwards, they will be happy again; they will eat, dance and laugh.

However, nobody wept for you. For you, as an independent person, not one tear was shed for you. Blank and cold is your name on the gravestone, impersonal and exclusive. I alone mourn for you, for your smile, your tears, your jokes, your personality. I could never tell you my real feelings for you. At the beginning it was schwärmerei (enthusiasm), certainly. But in your last school year, we got closer. But not until now, years later, I find the strength to admit it. Gentle I place the letter and the rose upon the grave, and then I turn around and go. The wind carries your words to me: "Thank you".

When I turn around, the letter and the rose are gone.