The silence was a terrible burden to fall upon their wary shoulders. Their broken minds and shattered hearts could not take the extra strain, their very spirits hanging on the brink of collapse. Every defeated gaze was set on the young man who stood, on the verge of breaking into rasping sobs, before them. Not a sound was made in the Great Hall as all waited to understand why this boy had halted their hollow celebrating in order to call attention to something. Something bigger than just him and his own cruelly devastating thoughts. Something larger than those assembled in the room where he stood, trembling, from so many violently clashing emotions. Something graver than the empty shouts of joy still resounding through the open expanse of Hogwarts. Something more beautiful, and yet more corrupted, than the complete isolation of each of the countless mourners and dead who filled the school
"I just wanted…wanted to say, well, honestly I dunno what I want to say anymore. I wanted to make you all understand what has happened tonight. I wanted to explain what it is that occurred on this brutal day, but the truth is, I don't have a bloody clue. But what I do know, what I do know is that we won...in the end, we did. I know that we…we all fought so, so damn bravely for what we believed in. I know that there are too many who we have lost, too many who have died, too many who have fallen…but we have to know that they are gone as heroes. And because of that, we must value them. We must respect them. We must honor them. But more than that, we must remember them. 'Cause if we don't, god, if we forget what they died for, than they sacrificed themselves for nothing. We have the duty to remember, because if we don't, well, it'll all just happen again. This is what I do know, that these people fought for good. They fought for truth. For justice…for tolerance…for beauty. They fought for peace." He took a deep breath, attempting to control his already chaotic emotions, and continued
"But what they died for, damn, what they died for is different. They died for love. They laid down their lives willingly, knowing full well what they were doing, so that those they most cared about could go on living, could go on fighting, against the evil that has for so long gripped our world. They were leaders, soldiers, warriors, and heroes, but they were also, and perhaps even more importantly, sons, daughters, mothers, fathers, sisters, and brothers…they were friends. They were lovers and wives and husbands. They were the good. They were the right. And now that they are gone, they stand for all that we should try our best to become; they are the reasons we need to keep our world safe. So yes, we will miss them. God, we'll miss them, but we will also look around at those who surround us, and see common place heroes in all directions."
"And I know he'll kill me for saying this, and I know he wants no part in the glory, but there is someone we owe all this too. I want to ask you all to look to Harry, not "the chosen one", not "the boy who lived", not even the great Gryffindor seeker, or the guy who was orphaned when he was so young, but Harry. The kid who I've grown up with, my friend, this is for you, mate. And for Ron. And Hermione, who I know was the brains behind the operation. I want to thank you three for starting something that I will always believe changed the outcome of this war. You founded an army; you gave us the right to call ourselves soldiers of this, most noble of causes. You began the revolution that eventually accomplished its seemingly impossible task. And I want to thank you, really and truly thank all three of you, for helping me…" the man struggled for words, as tears began to trickle down his face, "for allowing me to avenge, to destroy, those who took away my family. My parents…because of you, I know my mum and dad would be proud of me, of us, and what we've done, and for that…damn it," his voice grew in confidence considerably, "for that I will never be able to thank you enough. Harry, Ron, Hermione, we, as I know you did as well, went to war for those we love, but more than that, we did battle because we had faith that you could make it a fight worth dying for. We were right to have faith, right to believe. For that you deserve all the credit."
"We ended this war for one reason, because every person deserves to be happy, because we all have a right at the chance to love, because it should be a decision, a career, to fight dark wizards, not a necessity for school children and certainly not a way of life for an entire generation." He smiled grimly as he looked out into his captivated audience, many weeping noiselessly and clutching their loved ones tightly, and he raised a fist into the air, tears streaming down his own face in rapidly increasing doses, "To the DA!", and in way of a reply a rousing cheer reached his tired hearing, "To those who fought the good fight, whether they are here or not, whether they are still with us or surrounded by grieving family, we applaud you, we cherish you, and we will always, always, be here for you." Hands were slapped together and shouts echoed through the hall, as the young man continued his rousing sermon.
"To Dumbledore! He who taught us to fight, to learn, to believe, and most importantly, the values of love, friendship, and loyalty. We will forever remember how the greatest wizard of all time sat at the helm of our educations and our united hearts, and we will always strive to further his goals, placing his ambitions in the minds of our children for always, his joys captured in the hearts of our grandchildren forever, and his values gripping the souls of the coming generations for eternity." He stared at the Gryffindor table, gazing at the three he had called by name and the army he was such an integral part of, and continued, "We are Dumbledore's men. Dumbledore's women. Dumbledore's Army. And we will remember." He said with finality, vowing to never forget the price they had collectively paid to vanquish the Dark Lord for good.
The man strode down the aisle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, people standing to shake his hand, slap him on the back, or take him into their shaking embraces. He finally liberated himself from the swarming masses that filled the hall and marched on. The boy set himself down in the place between Luna and Dean that had been cleared for him, Dean turned away from him, holding Parvati Patil in his trembling arms as she shook with desperate sobs, even as his own visage was covered in wet tears. Across the table from them sat Ron, locked in Hermione's white knuckled grip as he attempted to comfort her, but like Dean, his face also showed signs of emotion. Beside them, Harry stood, leaning across the wooden framework to shake the young man's hand, "Thanks…", the man nodded in return, and Harry settled himself back on the bench. The legendary hero intertwined his fingers with Ginny's and began to gently push the fiery red strands of hair out of her watery eyes with his other hand. Luna sat, transfixed, by the scene before her. She slowly turned towards the young man, holding him in her expression, usually so dazed and vacant, which now kept him still with its deep anguish. She did not cry, she did not shout out, she merely looked at him, pleading for his help. Neville wrapped his muscled arms around her, feeling her quiver against his strong chest, and knew that although the fighting was done, this war would never truly be over, and the people it had affected would forever, for always, eternally remember what it had cost.