Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his entire world belong to JK Rowling et al.
In Memoriam
By Kateydidnt
In Flanders
fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
-- In Flanders Fields
by Colonel John McCrae
It was a sunny day and, for the first time in a long while, it was quiet and peaceful. On a green hill overlooking a lake stood a lone figure. He gazed at the lake with a wistful look on his face and then down at the grass under his feet. It was unthinkable that the knoll on which he stood was all that was left of the castle of Hogwarts that had stood for a thousand years. It had been destroyed like most everything else that he had once known. So many had died on these grounds, had sacrificed themselves to give him enough time to make sure he was prepared to face Voldemort. It had worked. He had won, had defeated Voldemort.
But, he had often wondered if it had been worth the price. He had saved the world, yes, but what was left of the world when it had finally been accomplished?
After the battle he had collapsed and let himself fall apart for a while. He was finally allowed to mourn and deal with the war. It had taken him a while to comprehend it all, and to allow himself to move on. Others had helped him immensely, but there was still, and would always be, pain, both physical and emotional.
Various scars from the battle could never be healed. He knew he would never be able to walk without a limp. His right knee had been damaged in battle and the medi-wizards had done the best they could do, but it would always hurt him. He was considered one of the lucky ones, that that was the worst of the permanent damage.
The emotional damage was worse. He had survived while so many had not. He had lost some of the most important people in his life in the war. Albus Dumbledore had been killed in the Battle of Hogsmeade, Hermione fell in Diagon Alley, Ron followed soon after outside Ottery St. Catchpole. Of the Weasley family the only ones left were Percy, Bill and Fred. Remus had been killed in the final battle as had Neville Longbottom and many of his classmates.
That had been two years ago and today was the first time he had been able to return to the site of that battle, the place where he had finally defeated the Dark Lord. He gazed to his left where the memorial was. Beautiful gardens adorned the grounds and the memorial stood proclaiming the names of those who had died in the struggle. It was tastefully done and many came weekly to pay their respects.
He heard soft footfalls approaching him and then felt slender fingers intertwine with his own as his wife joined him at his side. She didn't say anything, just looked at the gardens along with him. He tore his gaze from them and looked at her.
"They have done a wonderful job with this," he said softly. She just nodded. Then she started walking, pulling him along with her. He followed her down the gentle slope towards the memorial. Slowly walking up to it he studied the names engraved on it. He reached out with a hand and traced a familiar name here and there. As his finger pressed each name the magic of the marble presented a picture of each person in his mind. Memories imbued in the stone created a far more lasting memorial than simple names. He remembered reading in the newspaper the calls for donations of memories for each person. He had only donated two memories and that was only when someone approached him and explained that he was the only one who could donate memories for the two individuals. The first was Sirius Black and the second was, oddly enough, Fawkes who had died for the last time saving his life two months after Albus' death.
He ran his fingers over Hermione's name and saw her look up from a book to laugh at something. He ran his fingers over Fawkes' name and did not see a picture, but instead heard the phoenix song. Other familiar names evoked the memories of faces and times that were simpler. He traced over names of people he did not know and saw them in moments of happiness. He was glad that the memories that were preserved were of joy and happiness.
Then he stood back from the stone and placed a flower at its base, then turned to his wife and said, "I'm ready to go home."
A.N.
Ok this demanded to be written. Perhaps now that that is done my muse will finally give me the next bit of Betrayed. This is a one-shot. I will not be writing more. About Harry's wife-I wanted to fit it in, but I couldn't figure out a way to do it without disrupting the flow of it. Anyway, it is Luna Lovegood.
Now to go back to Betrayed.