Eh…I'm back in angst mode. Everyone we knew and loved from the generation that was the revival of Voldemort are all placed in one hall in the school, that has been totally wiped clean of any memory of those people. Hints at couples, one sided, and confused people who like more than one person. Do the Hogwarts portraits have more to tell than they imply?
If you don't like the thought of same sex couples, be gone! Also features a smart Crabbe and Goyle. If this scares you, that they can actually make intelligent conversation (which scares me too).
The quotes are from David Almond's book, Counting Stars. Go read it. They might not make any sense, but they seem to fit to me. The quotes have a few religious topics, on Christianity. If you might get offended, you might not want to read this. Also references to Alice In Wonderland, by Lewis Carrol.
All characters mentioned and other stuffs belong to J.K Rowling, and the evils of corporate-ness. Meant to be one-shot, but who knows.
I hopes you likes it, my precious…
To Live In Wonderland
(She started with The Universe. Then she wrote The Galaxy, The Solar System, The Earth, Europe, England, Felling, Our House, The Kitchen, The White Chair With A Hundred Holes Like Stars, then her name, Margaret, and she paused.
"What's in the middle of me?" She asked.
"Your heart," said Mary.
She wrote My Heart.
"In the middle of that?"
"You soul," said Catherine.
She wrote My Soul.
-Counting Stars by David Almond, Chapter One - The Middle of the World)
Harry Potter died at the age of 100. Which is fitting, because he saved the wizarding world many times over. He saw a century pass by, a time of happiness and celebration.
Yet he also saw his friends fly by, none of their lives as long as his, and they all said goodbye to him, one by one.
His raven hair had faded, his emerald eyes no longer precious, and his scar no longer legend. That was when he decided to die. Legends last longer than the hero, but the hero lived more than the legend. He grew frail, weakening every day, until he took his last breath.
Though many would of thought so, Harry Potter was not a phoenix. He could not be reborn from his own ashes.
Harry Potter died alone.
-
('You will come upon those who will tell you everything is knowable,' he said. 'Those who will look into the night and say they can tell you the number of the stars. Turn away from them. It is blasphemy for men to feign knowledge of what can be known only to God.')
-
Draconius Malfoy died at the age of 23. For his Father murdered him when he found out he was going to tell Dumbledore many secrets that would scar the Malfoy name forever, a scar that even many ages couldn't fade. Pride was the strongest emotion he knew.
Draco Malfoy risked everything. He paid a heavy price for his betrayal.
A simple spell of two words killed a platinum man. Yet people fear these two words like the plague.
Lucius Malfoy killed his own flesh and blood. People say blood is thicker than water. For Lucius Malfoy, Voldemort's blood was thicker than anything.
Draco Malfoy died too early to see the final triumph of Harry Potter.
Perhaps it was better that way.
-
(One year one of us, either in mischief or in search of catechismic certainties, was bold enough to raise his hand
'Father, how many stars can I count before it becomes a sin?'
The priest was silent for a moment.)
-
Ronald Weasley died when he was 77. He just fell asleep one day, and his blue eyes never saw the world again. His red hair had grayed, his blue eyes sometimes lost the sparkle, and his freckles paled.
But Ron never gave up. He saw the world at peace, but knew that war would soon follow. Yet he savored the moment, and only lived in happiness.
Ron accepted that he would always be known because of Harry Potter. He wasn't a legend in his own right.
You could say Ron lived the best life. You could say he lived the worst.
He lived how he wanted to.
-
('It is beyond a hundred that the sin begins to deepen, my son. Beyond a hundred and you soul begins to darken. Beyond a hundred and you take your very life into your hands.')
-
Hermione Granger died when she was 89. She lived, and she died. There's no simpler way to put it.
She never was as famous as Harry Potter, or Ronald. She never had her turn in the limelight.
She preferred it that way.
Hermione died with a book on biblical creatures folded across her chest, and she was buried that way.
Why? Harry Potter wanted it. He kissed her forehead, and said goodbye when she was buried.
-
(Ninety, one would begin, pointing upward, passing it on to the next in line.. Ninety-one…ninety-two…ninety-three…
Our fright was disguised with giggles and curses, but we were truly in fear and trembling if ever the boldest among us began to speak the fateful numbers beyond ninety-nine.)
-
Serverus Snape died when he was 49. He committed suicide under the Imperius curse.
Can you kill yourself by means of another? A knife straight through his heart, blood tears replacing real ones. Silver metal tainted by crimson.
He lived in fear of being found out. Is living in fear really living at all?
He and Draco lived the most incomplete lives. For one can't live on fear forever.
Some said that was fitting for the backstabbers. These people are now in hiding, in the same position.
Life has its own sense of irony, doesn't it?
-
(My finger ticked off the amounts above our small town, leaving untouched the huge expanse of universe beyond. She began to tremble as the numbers mounted.
'Don't,' she whispered.
I held her as she began to pull away. I grinned as I counted more quickly and ran the numbers together in a blur.
'Hundred.' I said at last. 'Hundred and one, hundred and two, hundred and three. See?')
-
Albus Dumbledore died at the ripe old age of 304.
Why? Some said he was the desendant of Merlin himself. Others say he was only half-mortal, like so many fairy tales say. Was he not unlike Gandalf from the Lord of the Rings, only living to see the final defeat of his enemies?
He survived the age, but died before Ron. He mourned the deaths of Draco and Serverus, and bade the surviving all goodbye two hours before he died.
He knew he was going to die years before.
Is it right, to know when you're going to die? If it's inevitable, does it really matter?
Albus Dumbledore saw the rise and fall of Voldemort, and the rise and decline of Harry Potter. He saw destruction, death and pain for most of his life.
Yet he knew how to seem happy, to appear joyful.
When the whole time he was dying inside.
-
Frederick and George Weasley died separately, causing their one heart and mind to rip in two.
George died two years after Fred, out of misery, pining away for the other half of himself that would never come back or be refilled.
He joined his brother when he was 67.
Pain is a strong depressant. When Fred was gone, George's life was one raw emotion until the day he died.
Agony.
-
Virginia Weasley died after years of torturous, haunting dreams from the fragments of memories that remained of Thomas Riddle. Most of the 63 years of her life, she was silent.
Some say she killed herself. Others say she died because she wanted to. Still, some say she was never really alive after the Chamber of Secrets. That her soul had been reaped from her there.
Life was never really the same for Ginny after the Chamber. Naivety is something easily tainted.
-
(I saw the stars reflected in her eyes, how they shone among her tears.)
-
All of these people, and many more, have been painted at least once in their lifetime. Obviously, Harry Potter holds the highest number of paintings. A total of around 40 are scattered around the school that feature him, though some are harder to find.
Anyone who wants to be remembered only has to have their picture up at Hogwarts. Quidditch pictures, staff pictures, school pictures and Head Boy, Head Girl and Prefect pictures. Pictures of people who influence the Wizarding world, or saved it. Or maybe both.
-
A picture of two of the Quidditch team captains, both in their sixth year. Back to back, broomsticks resting on their shoulders. They often grin and tease, or mess up each others' hair. Occasionally they can be spotted far into the photo, chasing a miniscule Snitch.
One girl swears she saw them in a compromising position, flustered, but then both started to laugh hysterically. One boy says that one day, they were wearing the other's Quidditch robes, and had traded brooms.
Another girl says she saw them rather close, cheeks pink and stumbling over words. Brushing hair back into place with their hands, abashed.
One boy often gives directions for lost first years around the School. The other just smirks and points in a vague direction, while his companion whacks the side of his head and give more precise ones, their painted emotions seeming so real.
No one would recognize these two boys as Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. They're too youthful, too vibrant. Too full of hope and somehow, innocence. They often laugh at each other, or wrestle. The two never seem to leave their frame during the day.
Yet the caption underneath reads:
"Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, Quidditch Captains. Photographer Unknown, Circa 1996-97?"
This portrait is far away from the Hall.
-
Memento Hall is almost abandoned, except for the school elves who clean their every so often, and the teachers, and a few students who take advanced classes on the other end of the school. Only the teachers and the selected students pass here regularly.
-
A Weasley family picture has been hung near the doorway, but its rare for all of them to be together. It seemed to of been taken outside of their house, The Burrow. A bench sits near them, and so does a weeping willow.
Mr and Mrs Weasley both often squeeze each other's hands reassuringly, as if they need a reminder that the pain is over, that nothing can hurt them now.
Ginny Weasley disappears during the days and the nights, each year her eyes get more shadowed, and fewer and fewer words pass her lips. Whether she pines for Harry or for Tom, she will never say. Perhaps she only wishes for a love that no one showed her.
Fred and George often sit on the bench, fingers entwined, sometimes in the tree, swinging their legs, laughing at an untold joke.
Percy sits by himself, or stands with his parents. He's often seen in the library portraits, discussing something. Yet his eyes betray his words.
Bill and Charlie can only look out to the world of the living and smile sadly, or just gaze out across the Hall. Sometimes they're together, sometimes they're apart. They sometimes climb the tree as well, or can be seen entering the house, but never seem to want to leave the frame.
-
(I let her slip her fingers beneath my shoulder-blades.
'Where my wings were,' I said. 'Where they'll be again.')
There's only one picture in this Hall of the Gryffindor trio, Harry, Ron and Hermione.
Ron's hand rests on Hermione's shoulder, his eyes pained, a forced smile.
Harry stares out, the canvas didn't seem to be able to complete capture his expression, he seems strangely incomplete. His glasses are smaller than they used to be, and not so thick. His eyes are much less readable, even though the emerald glistens in invisible sunlight.
Hermione seems to be on the verge of tears, perhaps for someone lost, as she sometimes whispers to Harry and Ron, but they make no drastic movements around the frame or the canvas.
-
Another picture of the two boys. Professional looking, black suits and solemn expressions.
Blonde and black hair, both pale skin. Emerald and sapphire eyes. No glasses cover them. Contrasting, yet strangely similar.
They rarely move, rarely face each other. Tears may escape from their eyes in a rare moment, and one's shoulders may shudder to release a sob, or one hand suddenly clutch at another pale one, only resulting in a tense moment, and more silent tears. Streams of silver that will never blur the photo.
Only at night. Daytime, composed, chiseled expressions, forced and plastered on. Never let the world know how you feel. It's a lesson one learns at some point in one's life.
Never speaking, only staring out at the invisible air, watching, waiting.
For what, I, nor can anyone, say.
-
A picture of two large boys, lost expressions, dazed. As if they're not meant to be here.
Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.
Murmurs. Low voices, gruff and slightly harsh.
"Why wasn't he with us when they took this picture?"
"I heard he was having that picture taken." Points to the picture, and his companion shakes his head.
"Poor man."
"I used to wonder if it was coming to him. I guess it did."
"Don't say that. He was good, he meant well, deep down in his soul."
"It's true."
"I'll never believe it."
-
The Head and the Heads of Houses.
Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout.
Serverus glares out from narrowed midnight eyes, his face drained, arms crossed.
McGonagall is holding a book, and often talks to Flitwick or Dumbledore, discussing something in solemn tones. She seems to talk to Professor Sprout even more, perhaps because she's the only other woman, or perhaps she knew something.
Few but Dumbledore talk to Snape, often animatedly, Snape seems to be trying to convice Dumbledore, while the aged man only shakes his head, and closes his eyes.
-
There are very few decendants of these people.
Of course, there are Weasleys, one of Hermione's relatives, and only one Malfoy, who bares an uncanny resemblance to Draco.
Only one Potter remains, almost the spitting image. Black hair, pale skin, shocking eyes, will need glasses soon. What he is to Harry, his grandson, or something much more distant, few can tell.
No scar, no lightning gash. He lives like any other, and barely knows of his heritage, how famed his relation was, who he could be.
Is it really better that way? The few who know suppose so. Perhaps one day the boy will be able to live with the truth. Or maybe it will only doom him to follow in his footsteps.
-
('If we're like this when we're in God's thoughts,' I said. "What are we like when we're in his dreams?")
-
Only one gold plaque tells of the purpose of this Hall, and only few know of its true purpose;
Neither can they die anymore, for they are equal unto the angels.
In memory of all who saw the rise, but maybe not the fall of the Dark Lord Voldemort. For those who proved that blood is not always thicker than water. For those who believed the lives of others were worth more than their own.
For anyone who ever loved, for those who were denied. For those who saw things that they were never meant to see. For those who lived, loved, and lost. For those who cried, for those who mourn, for those who died, for those who will never see the triumph that we now live in. This is for those who never forgot that Death is inevitable.
We shall remember you until the end of time.
For those who wished to live in Wonderland, but could never find the rabbit hole.
~Finite~