The wounds of battle are all gone from my body' but the memories of that night will never fade.
Pictures of my students dead, their screams still haunt my darkest dreams. Reminding me, that I am no hero.
Those lives I could have saved, preserved. Gone, no more.
When will they stop calling me Hero? Lioness of Gryffindor, Queen of Snakes?
Sure I saved a few, helped Harry defeat Voldemort, but I couldn't save all of them?
How can I be a hero when all I thought about was me? My love, my life?
Yes I saved the school, kept it from destruction, but at such a loss.
They tell me I need to let go, there's nothing I could have done.
But they didn't see their love dead, strangled, drained of blood.
They didn't see a sixth-year lay dead on a cot, his younger brother nowhere to be found.
They didn't see their beloved Qudditch field burn to the ground, and see the Boy Who Lived dead. They haven't seen what I have seen, done what I have done.
So I ask you, how am I a hero?