Author's Note: This plot won't leave my head, no matter how hard I try to forget it. Is like a plague that's crawling within' me, each time deeper than the last. So I gave up trying to fight it. Pain demands to be felt. So be it.
Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter world. It all belongs to the woman who killed Snape.
War is a terrible thing. It doesn't begin with combat, and it doesn't end with it. War starts in the small talks, on pretty magical schools, on shady bars and street corners. War ends with phycological damage, overcrowded prisons, fugitives, politics, and lies.
Nobody remembers most of the people who fought in the war. The unknown people who made it all happen. The ones who created the potions, the spells, the strategies, the ambushes...
Nobody talks about the dark part of the war. It's all about heroes and heroic deaths. The wind carries away the dark spells, the rapes, the unjustified murders, the blackmails, the kidnappings...
Nobody talks about how difficult it is to be alive after it. The book always ends in the fight. No author is interested in writing the crappy life that awaits the survivors.
What about the nightmares, the stress, the paranoia, the scars, the depression, the curses, the isolation, the ruins of the world alongside the debris of their lives? Is that suppose to be hidden forever?
Life after Voldemort wasn't flowers and sunshine. There were misery and pain, but there was also love and light. One only had to look hard enough to see it.
The survivors paid the price of the war, as always. This is their story.