She walked under the overhanging green of the tress, the smell of rain fresh in the air. The earth is newly washed with the heaviness of the rain last night and she knows that dirt was not the only thing cleaned by last nights tidal of water from the grey clouds. The air is a whisper that surrounds her as each step makes a print in the wet soil but she continues on leaving her mark on the ground. It isn't cold but there is a shiver running up her back. The black cloak, which stirs restlessly in her wake, is drawn in closer to her body more for comfort than warmth. She continues walking intent upon her goal. The sun shone through the green leaves of the tress reflecting the colour down upon her. The whisper of the soft breeze through the leaves make it sound as though a thousand voices are whispering to her, calling to her. She ignores the sounds as she presses on.
The grove is full with marble stones of remembrance. Many still bare the blooming flowers. Dedication marble stands names engraved upon the front. Words etched in the stone like grief etched in her eyes. She walks softly through the grove her eyes travelling over the names on the stones of nameless witches and wizards she would never meet until she begins to recognise the names of those she knew. She bit her lip feeling the sharp teeth digging into the sensitive skin. Her green eyes flew lightly over the craved letters that formed the names that registered in her head making her stomach turn. Hannah Abbott, Katherine Bell, Dean Thomas, Michael Connor, Cho Chang, Sybil Trelawney, Annuli Victor, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Rebeus Hagrid. There were many. Many names that she knew as she softly glided along the grassy pathway came to her mind.
There suddenly in front of her stood eight statues of dedication. Four black marble and four white. The names etched in upon them were not in gold or silver as the names on other stones but seven were maroon and one was blue. She moved forward to trace her fingers through the names on each of the stones. She shook like the leaves on the top of the trees in the breeze that blew past. She leant towards the white marble stone her hand holding onto the black one next to it. The marble was cool against her skin and although she wasn't cold she shivered again. She retracted her spread out fingers feeling her nails scrape against the marble. She bit her lip again so harshly that it cut the skin and she could taste the metallically flavour of her blood. She closed her eyes tight feeling the salty tears slipping down her nose, gathering at the end before dropping off onto the marble base and running off that down on the rain soaked grass.
Her legs gave way as they would no longer support her and she slumped to the ground her cloak billowing out at the sudden movement. She sat for a moment shaking with the sobs. She suddenly stopped and raised her face opening to her eyes to see the stones with the name carved upon them. Her emerald eyes were watery, her black hair a mess, her skin was terribly cold and she looked like a ghost. Her face was marred with a large scar that ran down her face still pink and not that long ago made. The war had given her that but the war had taken many things. Her mind formed the words on the stones. In Memory of … the names floated in her mind. Hesita Jones, Remus "Moony" Lupin, Emmeline Vance, Peter "Wormtail" Pettigrew, Lily Evans Potter, James "Prongs" Potter and finally Serena Rosa White Black and Sirius "Padfoot" Black.
'Goodbye,' she whispered, 'to the Marauders.'