They stood there, smiling and laughing, not a second older than where they stood. Four were 16, two were 15. Three girls and three boys. All had happy, joyful smiles stretched across their faces. Harry, Ron and Neville had their arms around their girlfriend's shoulders – Ginny, Hermione and Luna – respectfully – and each girl smiled that secret smile up at their boyfriends. These six were truly amazing, all knew the hardship, pain and suffering that was just beginning, and all knew that they would fight this fight, all knowing that they might not survive. And yet they still smiled, still laughed, still gazed at each other with a love that should have been beyond their understanding. After all, how could they have known this would be the last time they would be together for such a photo? How could they have had the foresight to know that this was the last time they'd ever see each other? How could they have had the knowledge that this was their last smile before death?
It was remembered clearly that day. They smiled in the morning, the laughter at lunch and the calm before the storm at dinner. They could still picture everyone sitting around eating dinner, watching the sunset – no one knowing it was the last time some would see it; that in the morning people would rise on a very different world.
People could still feel the massive magical power in the air, still hear the cries, the screaming and yelling, still smell the stench of blood and death weighing down the air like heavy clouds.
No one could really recall how and when the six young souls had left this world. Only the knowledge of when Voldemort himself had been killed could be retained, once he was gone in a massive light show the other death eaters had fallen like dominoes. It was as if they had been simultaneously struck with a stunner and each fell down dead in surprise, their eyes forever frozen in shock.
When this was realised that all evil was dead, people had immediately heaved a great sigh of relief and began identifying death eaters and collecting their own dead.
It had been dear little Luna Lovegood that had been found first. Her face surprisingly peaceful for one who was killed. Next was young Neville Longbottom, obviously having gone down fighting, judging by all the dead death eaters found around him. The youngest Weasley boy-turned-man, Ron Weasley, was found lying before the ever brainy Hermione Granger, having tried to protect her. Sweet Ginny Weasley was found next, her eyes shut and she seemed to be just sleeping. Lastly was the hero, the one who fulfilled the promise he had made to the entire world, was found – Harry Potter. But the most surprising thing was the small smile and a newly made tear track down his cheek from a single tear. What his last thought had been would always be a mystery.
And yet – after all that – they still stood there, smiling and waving, not a second older than where they stood. It had been 28 years, but still four were 16 and two were 15. Three boys and three girls stood there. Their happy, joyful smiles still stretched across their faces. For in this photo they would forever be happy, their day forever bright and their love forever alive. For they would never grow older because the dead never age.