The weather was harsh that day on the grounds of Hogwarts castle, the only sound being that of rain pouring down from the skies almost in anger. With all that had happened so recently it almost seemed to be the only option, yet some of the details were already beginning to be forgotten by those that had survived. Some more willingly than others, but no one could entirely blame them after the carnage these grounds had seen.
It was at this very place that the Marauders had first come to be, and years later the same held true when the last of them fell. It was almost fitting, yet not fair in any aspect of the word. By the time of their deaths, they had all become quite familiar with the concept that life wasn't fair.
People will likely lose touch after finally leaving school, often involuntarily. What you weren't told is that sometimes this happens because of betrayal. Betrayal and loss and death and fear and incarceration and uncertainty and lies. Oh, but this amounted to something that to this day tied them all together, even posthumously. Had they been in possession of the cognizance to realise this currently, there was still nothing they could do about it. Since those first fateful weeks after being Sorted, their stories had become inexplicably meshed. They didn't realise it at the time, however.
This had all come to light, both sooner and later; some epiphanies more bitter than others.
Good had come out of all of this, but combining that first term with another - sacrifice - almost made it sound relative. A greater good had been achieved, and their parts in such was another something they would never fully know. Not for lack of trying, assuredly.
Without warning, a strike of lightening reached down from the heavens and struck a tree that had been rooted in place before those decades that had been the boys' reign. It had seen their stories unfold, and that of so many other hopeful students, some meeting similar fates while others still thrived today. No one ever acknowledged the tree silently watching, just as no one was here to watch its sudden reaction to that bolt of pure electricity. There was a crack separate from the one that had started this current dilemma, wood rebelling against itself before the weight became too much. It had nearly been split straight down the middle, this become all the more evident when an entire side of branches crashed down to the soggy ground below- still twitching like a lizard whose tail had been pulled off. The side still standing gave evidence of tension that could only hold taut for so long.
Eventually it would probably have to be taken down before the remaining center became weathered and rotted. Its time would come to an end far, far before it or anyone else would have expected, but this wasn't something you could entirely plan for. And besides, who ever said that life was fair?