Something I just wrote at 2 am. I was high on sugar, and watching the second season of Lost. I did not check grammer etc. etc. it was a spur of the moment thing, and I think I've read it once, so it probably has tons of mistakes and makes no sense. So please review, and be honest. Thank you and have a nice day.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, please don't sue me all you'll get is a bowl full of sugar and the first season of Lost DVD (I'll be dead before you get the 2nd!)

Hallowed Ground

There's so much pain here. I can still hear the screams of the innocent, the laughter of the hideous, and the silence of those who are gone from this world. Death hangs here like a thick fog, though even the strongest light will never penetrated it. The ground is drenched in blood and in tears from many years ago, yet the ground will never dry. Memories quench it, tears still fall to it, but blood shall never again be spilt on this hallowed ground.

A single tree stands strong, it is a symbol of hope, hope that we so desperately needed all those years ago. The tree in itself is magic. On each leaf that sprouts from its many branches a name is imbedded in gold script. Each name is someone who has passed this life. It is a tree that is always growing, for people, even now in times of peace, cannot escape the inevitable.

Reaching for a leaf, I can feel warmth radiating of it, it takes me back to so long ago. The name on it is bold and seems to be growing brightly. Soon I can no longer look at it as my tears start to flow. They drip down, and are swallowed by the earth. I let go of the leaf, the name burnt into my brain.

Hermione Granger

I loved her; I had, and always will have, this unconditional love for her. She was the sister I never had, the rock in my life, the girl, and the women, who always knew what to say when to say it. Her life was committed to learning, and my heart aches to know that the knowledge that used to give her so much joy will never be completed due to her life coming to an abrupt end. Her death, tragic as it was, was not in vain. Her final moments were helping the wizarding world. Finding information on the final horcrux would be last thing she ever did.

Staring back up at the tree another name catches my eye. The name printed on the leaf is so hard to look at, I try to hold back the tears, but the attempt was futile. He was my first friend, and his loyalty was unbreakable. There were times when we fought, but in the end he was always there, and even though he is gone, he will always be in my heart as Hermione is.

Ron Weasley

So many names; many are unfamiliar for the casualties of the war ranged much further than anyone could imagine. Yet for every few I don't know, there are those who I do. People who have helped me, people who have forfeited there own lives, to save mine, and to help the world, both wizarding and not, become a better place.

My eyes continue to scan the leaves, a tear falling every once in a while for the name written upon it. My eyes then land upon a name. Falling to the ground, my back to the tree and my head in my hands I lose the little composure I have left. The name…oh the name. Years ago the name meant nothing to me. But now that one name symbolizes hope for those who are lost in their choices.

What name? It's not Sirius, no, not Dumbledore. It's not even Remus or Tonks. So many friends, so many casualties of war. But this one man, with his name that brought me to the grief stricken ground. He was the strongest, yet the weakest, the best, yet the worse. He was the personification of opposites, and of the mixture of good and evil.

Severus Snape

So different that all the other loses of war. He killed Dumbledore. For a while I thought, maybe, Dumbledore told him to do it. He was under orders. Or he just had to do it. But I was wrong. He killed Dumbledore because he was in league with the Dark Lord. I never forgave him for that. Yet, in the end, he showed his true colors. With the slyness of a snake, the loyalty of a badger, the wit of an eagle, and the almost stupid bravery of a lion, it was him who really defeated Voldemort. It was he who found the last horcrux, he who told Harry how to destroy it, and he who in the end gave his life so that it could be obliterated.

All those years of hating him in class were not in vain. At that point he was so confused, so scared. He turned his back on both the dark and light many times, and could never decided which side he chose. Soon, Snape had told me in his last moments, there were times when I didn't know which side I was on.

Sitting here, with my hands covering my face, I feel lost. Almost all that I have ever loved, all those who I have felt safe with, and all those who taught me to be who I am, are gone.

When the war was done, we had to rebuild life. We had no minister, no ministry, no government, and no hope. I was asked to be minister, but I declined. I had spent enough time in the spot light, enough time in the media, enough time being the boy-who-lived. The position was then given to Mr. Weasley. He hadn't been the same since Ron died. But he was still a strong man, he still loved others, and that's what we needed.

When Voldemort was finally destroyed, along with him went Hogwarts School. It was the final place he would ever ruin. Due to the death of Dumbledore on school grounds, many students were taken out of Hogwarts and enrolled in other schools, some going as far as America. Though some stayed, only a few of them were killed in the blast of Voldemorts death, they had learnt to protect themselves in the times of devastation.

Memories are flashing in my mind. People I've known and loved. Many of whom deaths I've witnessed. I see a little boy killed in the final instant of Voldemorts life, for he would not go down without taking some with him. A cruel man, whose life stems from his past.

He was right. We are alike, he and I. Both orphaned, half blood, we even looked alike before he experimented with the dark magic that disfigured him. Yet, we were unalike. He let his past control his life. He let the darkness consume him, and everyone around him. In the end he had no one left to love, and no one left to love him.

As I sit there thinking of the love that the Dark Lord would never have, and never had, something touches me on the nape of my neck. I look up at the feeling of the gentle touch. Pair of bright emerald eyes, much like my own, was staring at me.

A child, no older than two, is the owner of the gaze. She smiles at me, and takes me by the hand, motioning for me to rise. I stand and hooking finger around hers, ruffling her bright orange hair in the process.

Voldemort and I are so very alike, and so very different. I have someone to love me, someone for me to love. She is so like her mother, I can feel her compassion for me through this little girl, and as long as she lives I will always be loved.

As we walk away from the sacred tree stationed in the newly built Hogwarts courtyard, the little girl is still smiling and talking about what her Unca Gred and Forge taught her about pranks today at the castle.. I smile back, and then turn to look at the tree once more. The last and final name catches my eye.

Ginny Potter

Voldemort will never experience the love that I felt when I said the magically binding words I do. He will never know the pride I felt as I taught the new 3rd years the Patronus Charm, and saw one child produce a corporeal one. He will never experience the pain I felt when my wife took her final breathe at my, and our newborn baby's side.

And Voldemort, Voldemort will never experience setting foot on this hallowed ground ever again.

Fin.

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