Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from using the Harry Potter characters.
Though if JKR wants to lend them out sometime.
Freedom?
A solitary figure dressed all in black approached the grove. It was different than he had imagined in his dreams and nightmares, but it still chilled him to the bone at its very sight.
He slowly walked through the iron gates towards the far end where a stone monolith stood, nearly blocking the early evening light. He took some deep breaths his brain already reeling, it had been twenty years and still the memories came. According to the Ministry he was free, but he would never be free from the memories, they would be his constant companions as long as he waked this earth. He could still picture it all so clearly. Their faces, their corpses crushed under the remains, the pain, the guilt, it all flooded back to him, as if it had happened only yesterday.
He finally reached the monolith, casting his shadow over its expanse. He had waited till he was free to come here, waited until he could assemble his thoughts, but now he was here his mind was blank, all that was there was the guilt, no thoughts, no words just pain and guilt. He reached out to touch the stone running his fingers along their names, feeling the coarse stone, reliving those events of so long ago more painfully and more clearly than even in his cell.
He was to blame for this, his one gut reaction that night had handed them to the enemy, he had handed the closest thing he had to a brother to a mass murderer, he had orphaned a one year old boy, he had destroyed a family with his one unthinking reaction. It all too clearly reminded him of another unthinking action, one that at the time had done almost as much damage, one that had cost him the man he loved, his life seemed to be full of them, all coming back to haunt him in vivid colour and clarity.
Everyone tried to tell him it was not his fault. How could he have known? How could he have seen it? But deep down he knew, knew that if he had taken the responsibility on himself, none of this would have happened. He would have died for them, no question, and it was times like this he wished he had. His time in the cell had only hardened these beliefs. While he had emerged sane he had not emerged unchanged. No-one could. But he had decided that even the time he had spent there, in a place worse than anyone's perverse imagination could create, was not penance enough for what he had done, not just that fateful November night, but that earlier night, the first event in a chain of despair and corruption caused by him.
He stared unblinking at the stone before him, every crevice, every crack, every bump locked into his memory, burnt on the back of his retina. This was the result of his unthinking gut reaction, this was what it all came down to, this was the sum achievement of his wasted life, this was what he would always remind himself of, what would always be with him. He was responsible for the death of his best friends, he was to blame for the breaking up of a family and the orphaning of a child, he was to blame no matter how much everyone tried to deny it.
How dare anyone tell him he was free, he would never be free, not of this, not of the Shrieking Shack. They would always be there in the deep recesses of his mind rearing their ugly heads. Nothing could free him of this and he did not want anything to. He always needed to remind himself of this the only real truths about himself.
He would never be free from the binding chains of memory.
Freedom?
A solitary figure dressed all in black approached the grove. It was different than he had imagined in his dreams and nightmares, but it still chilled him to the bone at its very sight.
He slowly walked through the iron gates towards the far end where a stone monolith stood, nearly blocking the early evening light. He took some deep breaths his brain already reeling, it had been twenty years and still the memories came. According to the Ministry he was free, but he would never be free from the memories, they would be his constant companions as long as he waked this earth. He could still picture it all so clearly. Their faces, their corpses crushed under the remains, the pain, the guilt, it all flooded back to him, as if it had happened only yesterday.
He finally reached the monolith, casting his shadow over its expanse. He had waited till he was free to come here, waited until he could assemble his thoughts, but now he was here his mind was blank, all that was there was the guilt, no thoughts, no words just pain and guilt. He reached out to touch the stone running his fingers along their names, feeling the coarse stone, reliving those events of so long ago more painfully and more clearly than even in his cell.
He was to blame for this, his one gut reaction that night had handed them to the enemy, he had handed the closest thing he had to a brother to a mass murderer, he had orphaned a one year old boy, he had destroyed a family with his one unthinking reaction. It all too clearly reminded him of another unthinking action, one that at the time had done almost as much damage, one that had cost him the man he loved, his life seemed to be full of them, all coming back to haunt him in vivid colour and clarity.
Everyone tried to tell him it was not his fault. How could he have known? How could he have seen it? But deep down he knew, knew that if he had taken the responsibility on himself, none of this would have happened. He would have died for them, no question, and it was times like this he wished he had. His time in the cell had only hardened these beliefs. While he had emerged sane he had not emerged unchanged. No-one could. But he had decided that even the time he had spent there, in a place worse than anyone's perverse imagination could create, was not penance enough for what he had done, not just that fateful November night, but that earlier night, the first event in a chain of despair and corruption caused by him.
He stared unblinking at the stone before him, every crevice, every crack, every bump locked into his memory, burnt on the back of his retina. This was the result of his unthinking gut reaction, this was what it all came down to, this was the sum achievement of his wasted life, this was what he would always remind himself of, what would always be with him. He was responsible for the death of his best friends, he was to blame for the breaking up of a family and the orphaning of a child, he was to blame no matter how much everyone tried to deny it.
How dare anyone tell him he was free, he would never be free, not of this, not of the Shrieking Shack. They would always be there in the deep recesses of his mind rearing their ugly heads. Nothing could free him of this and he did not want anything to. He always needed to remind himself of this the only real truths about himself.
He would never be free from the binding chains of memory.