Gone and Forgotten
I kneel down and lay the flowers on the grave. I try to stare straight ahead to keep myself from crying. But I fail and look down. The headstone has crumbled over the years and the epitaph is barely visible under a thick layer of moss. Only one word remains legible: brother. Guilt cuts though me like a knife and I feel my eyes well up with tears that I will not shed.
Today is his anniversary, but I am the only one who remembers. His life was taken away too early… by me. I'm not a war hero. It's all my fault. No wife comes and weeps over the grave, no sons or daughters him bring flowers, no grandchildren visit or think about him. Not one person remembers his name. "Gone but not forgotten", a bunch of lies if you ask me. Everyone is forgotten someday. It was just too early for him to be forgotten, too early to become one of those lonely graves no one ever visits, and it's all my fault. He is gone and it is all because of me.
After a few more minutes I stand up and say goodbye. It is only until I leave the grave that I notice my face is wet. I cried even though I told myself not to, and I'm still crying. It's all my fault… my brother… gone and forgotten.
(A/N: could be seen as Percy remembering Fred but then that would mean none of the Weasley's or their friends still remember him. I hope you don't think they would forget poor Fred!)