Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Author's note: This is a short series that I thought of doing so any suggestions of what scene and from who's POV is welcome. This is also my first story and I would love to get some feedback and advice. I hope you enjoy!

Fred Weasley's Death

Professor McGonagall's POV

My fear was evident but I refused to acknowledge it; there were more important things to do. My home was gone, but so were people. My hair was down, but so were my spirits. It felt as though we had lost, yet the war was not over. These were my thoughts and though they were coherent, they were also in way lost. I was no longer confident that good would rise over evil. For how could it? We had lost so many good, beautiful souls that deserved a chance to live.

Fred. In many ways the boy reminded me of myself; of course when I was much younger. Unfortunately he did not know me then for I would have gladly joined in on his brilliant pranks. I suppose you were expecting me to mention his pranks. He was known for them. However, I knew another side of him in the years I taught him. He was a kind boy raised from a nice family but he was very interesting. He always seemed to be the leader. I sensed that was a role he despised. He was often troubled by the pressures of being a leader. He would spend hours at a time thinking, planning not his next prank but his next action. He spent a long time making sure he was a perfect role model, overlooking the fact that role models are not perfect.

I scanned my eyes over to where the young, handsome boy lay. His family had not arrived from the outdoors to see his body lying in the great hall. I paced over to him and silently knelt down to his level. I took out a small comb from my pocket and brushed the dirt from his hair. I retrieved my handkerchief from by robes and wiped the blood from his face. His face startled me. It was pale and still. The light in his eyes was forever extinguished by his eyelids, permanently laced together by his long eyelashes. The corners of his mouth were eerily turned up in such a smirk that left you almost content. It was as if to say that he would be alright. I took his hands in mine and gently placed them over the fresh scar on his chest. I stood and prepared for the arrival of the brave people that stayed to fight.

I was in the corner when they came. First Bill who stumbled upon the body when searching for his wife. I watched as his expression turned from worried to devastated. He was a strong character and stayed standing with tears slowly navigating their way down his soft cheek. Next was the only Weasley girl. Fierce, bold Ginerva came running into what was left of the castle and almost immediately her eyes fell on her brothers. She seemed scared to approach the scene and cried from a distance until her whole body shook with sobs. Percy found her and held her in his arms until she was able to join her bothers. Percy indeed drifted from his roots and became very distant with his family, but he never lost the heart he was raised with. Smart, intelligent Percy knelt by his brother and wept. George, Arthur, and Molly entered together. They spotted their children at once and ran to protect them; yet no parents can protect their children from death. Molly and Arthur collapsed to the ground in agony. George however laid down next to Fred and closed his eyes. You could only tell them apart from the tears soaking into the cheeks of the only twin left. Ron was last. He came with his dearest friends at his side. Ron was always kind, loving and so sensitive. His reaction was heartbreaking. His sobs echoed through the open room.

I often think about what I witnessed that night in the great hall. The mental pain was worse than any physical pain could ever be. My home was not gone forever, but the people were. My hair could be fixed, but not my spirits. We won the war, but we had lost so much. My thoughts are coherent, but they are often still lost. Good did rise over evil, but not before evil made its mark. The war will always affect me and it is hard somedays. These memories haunt me but there are better things to do then dwell on the past.