Fighting.
It was just the action.
Just the motion
And the response.
Action and reaction.
Dealing only with the moment at hand.
Fending off what is inevitable for us all.
No thought of glory.
No thought of hope.
No regret
No prayer.
It was just the action.
Just the motion
And the response.
Action and reaction.
That's how all the brave go down in the end.
That's how all those who fight for what they believe die.
In the heart of action.
Doing what they know to be right.
Doing what is best for us all.
Fighting.
Focusing on the final goal.
Because nothing else matters at that moment.
No regrets.
No fears.
No wishes for the future.
No memories from the past.
We only remember the loved ones
Because it is for them we fight.
In the end,
What we see,
It isn't the face of our lover or our child.
It isn't the purest, happiest memory of our life.
There is no montage of bygone years,
No fleeting memory of what is gone.
There is only action.
Just motion
And response.
Action and reaction.
We die in courage.
We die in action.
We do not give ourselves up to be remembered.
We do not sacrifice in vain.
We do not regret.
What we do is right.
What we do is necessary.
But none of that matters.
Because all we see before us is the scene of our death.
What is happening in the here and now.
What we are fighting.
What we see
Smell
Hear
Taste
Feel.
That is all that happens.
Our final moment is not one of memory or grandeur
Or fear or regret.
It is just the action.
The motion
And response.
Action and reaction.
We fight for life
For love
For others.
And we die in the moment without a moment to look back.
This is dedicated to all those who died in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows – they are not just fiction, they are, as someone dear to my heart reminded me earlier today, magic and truth in of themselves, as true and real as we want them to be. I also dedicate this piece to J.K. Rowling, a master of her craft who has set her place in so many hearts forever. And finally, this is dedicated to anyone who reads this, to anyone who cares, to anyone who ever cried or laughed or had their chest seize up in excitement or fear while reading any book – but especially Harry Potter.
Voldemort died in fear: he saw his moment of death, he felt it coming, and Harry forced him to recall everything before his final moment. He died Tom Riddle, alone and afraid, and at least a little regretful for what he had done. Unlike those who we will all sorely miss:
Remus Lupin
Nymphadora Tonks
Fred Weasley
Colin Creevey
Alastor Moody
Dobby
And all those, fictional and not, who deserve recognition for their spirit and strength and their will to fight without a thought spared for the possibility of death.
I fight.
I love.
I remember.