Since it is Halloween I decided to do a tribute to the deaths of James and Lily Potter.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters
The icy wind whipped against his face, freezing the tears that fell. It was surprisingly cold for October. The light frost crunched under his knees as he shifted. He tore his gaze from the ground to the beautiful slab of white marble before him. The tears flowed more freely. Time would not steal the beauty of the stone, of that he was certain. A scarlet leaf fluttered onto the headstone, like a butterfly to a flower. The vibrant red on white, like the stunning crimson colour of his mother's hair against her porcelain skin. Of course, this was what people had told him. He never had the chance to truly see his mother, the memory of a baby is fleeting, like trying to cup water in your hands. He had never even spoke to his parents, all because of the twisted desires of one man. One man who was now dead by this own hand. "But revenge will not bring them back." He murmured, reaching up to brush away the leaf. He could not look at it anymore.
His tortured thoughts were disturbed but the bubbling laughter of children, the eager knocking on doors, the chorusing of "Trick or Treat!" He glanced over at them smiled bitterly at their costumes, if only they knew what monsters were truly out there. Monsters are not those who are deformed or different, as muggles portrayed them, but those who are driven by greed and power and would do anything to achieve their ends, even taking lives to do so. Those who are so callous they cannot appreciate the miracle of life, those who are so selfish that they do not care. Anyone who would sacrifice the happiness or peace of others to gain what they desire. Those are the true monsters.
He laid his hand on the grave and whispered to the corpses beneath him "We will be reunited some day, mum and dad." For a long time after this he was still, and from a distance one may wonder if he was dead, slumped against a grave in a sea of headstones.
Life is cruel, it will always snatch away those who are dear to us, leaving those remaining with maddening grief and desperate sorrow. But if you detach yourself and keep your distance, then though you will not be subjected to the pain of loss, the life you live will not be worth living, for the loneliness will tear you apart. In a way life has been kind to him, it has spared his closest friends and his beloved, it has given him a second chance at living. Death has been lenient, he has survived time and time again, returned to fight, returned to love. So though now his heart is filled with agonising bereavement and wails at the injustice of the deaths of people so goodhearted, tomorrow his shattered heart will heal, and he will enjoy his life once more.
He reached into his pocket for his wand. With a solemn wave a gorgeous bouquet of autumn flowers sprouted from the tip. With another motion an ivory satin ribbon burst forth. He tied the flowers with the ribbon and placed it gently before the grave. He rose to his feet and dried his tears with his coat sleeve. He gave the grave a small smile before turning and walking through the rows of headstones. With every step the pain grew less and his tread grew lighter. He reached the gate and threw one final glace back at the grave of his parents. It shone in the moonlight, far brighter than the others that stood woefully around it. Or maybe that was what his swollen eyes wanted to see. He turned on his heal and disappeared with a quiet pop. The grave yard was eerily silent once more.
Like it? Hate it? Too dramatic? Not dramatic enough?
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