War was no longer something merely contemplated from a safe distance; no longer something prepared for, just in case; no longer even something anticipated with growing dread.
It was here.
From the moment the Death Eaters surrounded them in the Department of Mysteries, the first spell loosed on Harry's command, the endless blur of fleeing and the rush of blood and adrenaline that exchanged conscious thought for the need for survival - she had been a soldier.
She had come to her senses in the aftermath and realizing the weight of all that was lost.
Their leader had lost his godfather.
She had lost her father, one of the aurors, one of their saviors - because he had urged her to run, and she had obeyed.
And they had all lost one thing they could never regain: their peace.
Evil would always be chasing at their heels.
And she realized that as long as long as she fought or even as long as she fled, she would remain a soldier.
