Death By Love
Pushing back the infamous flame red hair Ginny Weasley dipped her quill once more. So far her parchament contenained just ink blots which she'd been erasing all afternoon. Harry had been killed and it was left to her to write something for the Daily Prophet. 'Minster Percy', as Fred called him, had gone first to Hermione who declined the task, then to her husband Ron he only shook his head. He'd yet to say a word since he'd been told of Harry's passing. Hermione had seen fit to cry everytime you looked at her. Ginny sighed. That had left her, since Neville had taken the whole thing rather well and even been there Harry's last moments and retrieved his body. That was when it hit her. Harry's last words. "I'm one man, we are two." Ginny dipped her quill yet again and started her piece.
"I'm one man together we are two'. The last words of the 'boy who lived'. We didn't all know him, but everyone knew his story. Only son of Lily and James Potter at the age of only 18 months he stopped the dark Lord Voldomort and lived through a killing curse. That name still brings fear to our hearts. To mine there's more pain than fear. Harry James Potter was my first crush, my brothers best friend, and our savior. His loss is one of many in this war. Yet his will be the most remebered and documented. With that said I see little reason to tell you what you already know. So instead I'll tell you who Harry was not what he was.
Harry was the victim of abuse from his aunt and uncle. When he got to Hogwarts he had no friends, and even few hopes of living a normal life once his first year came to pass. That year he incountered the dark lord again and not for the last time. He incoutered the man in sar omeway or another every year until the dark lords death. Before long he'd become a member of my family. Though we never had much we had eachother. That was something Harry loved. The love and support we each gave and recieved from eachother at all times. It was a love Harry hadn't experienced for himself since his parents' deaths. By the time he was 15 he'd found a father in a man I shall not pretend to have trusted. But that man tragically died far to soon for the young teen. Harry lost himself then. I lost an older brother and a friend, the childish crush having long since been forgotten. For a long time he was the boy who lived. That's all he did. He was simply alive with out a use. He drifted through his life only want, only need was revenge. When he got it part of him returned to the world. But forever he'd be changed.
He'd done what most called his purpose. He didn't know his place any more. It too was shone to him in time. He married and was a devoted father, loving husband, and amazing uncle. He held his world captive with his stories. He'd sure been through enough to sew stories together with everything any child would want. He was a wonderful man. A family man. Something all to hard to find, trust me I've looked. His wife Luna Lovegood certinally thought him a god. Part of me still sees him that way. Another part, a much larger part, the part that stood at his side through everything, laughed with him, and cried with him saw something far greater than the 'Boy Who Lived'. He's the 'Man Who Died'."
Tears fell anew from Hermione's eyes as she read aloud to Dumbledore. The crowd who'd gathered around her in the pub broke out in stories all starting with 'remeber when'. They were Harry's family. None conected by blood in their veins but by blood shed in their names. Ron said his first words in the two weeks since 'it' happened.
"Death by love." Which was true. Not only had Harry been deprived of his parents love but his children wouldn't get his. Or maybe they already had all he could give them. He'd gone out and found the last threat to his families lived and given up his own life to save there's. Ron saw it in the correct light. Death had taken him to save his loved ones.
Moral of Harry's Life:Love is the greatest power. It protects and sheilds, comforts and hurts.