The battle has been long and hard, but finally, here we are at the end of it. Not only the Battle of Hogwarts, but the battle that we have been fighting for so many years, always keeping the danger at bay, but never managing to keep it that way.
As I stumble down the cracked stairs of the once immaculate halls of Hogwarts, I realize that this might also be the end of my own battle: the battle that I have been fighting since I was two years old; since I had first met Fenrir Greyback.
Because even as I fight, even as I pour my soul into this last attempt at peace, my own life is hardly important.
The only thing that matters is keeping her safe.
It's the least I can do for her, taking into account what I've done to her. Selfishly married her for love -not considering what it would bring her in the future, made her an outcast like myself, given her a child, one that will surely be like me.
Yes, I think to myself, flashing off a curse to a cloaked Death Eater who catches it in the face and drops his wand, reeling backwards. If she manages to survive, everything will be made worth it.
She fights beside me now, as we run down the stairs. Her beautiful face is grim and defiant, her hair a firey red to match her spirit. I long to bring her away from all of this, to hold her in my arms and never make her face such dangers again. To retreat into a place where we can raise our child in peace.
Our child... I fight for him, too -we both do. We fight for a world where our child will never know the dangers of these years.
The battle is hard. Three of us -Dora and I along with Minerva McGonagall- against five of them -Crabbe, Goyle and another three I don't recognize. The eight of us are nothing but a mass of shouted curses and flying beams of colour. One of theirs is hit and he goes down. We are slowly moving down the grand staircase -they are backing down while we chase them.
"Professor McGonagall!" someone shouts- a student. They are fighting alone against several Death Eaters.
"Remus, Nymphadora," McGonagall acknowledges us briefly before rushing off to aid the student.
Four against two now.
I can hear frantic shouts all around. They come from both sides, but somehow I can sense that the outcome is turning in Voldemort's favor.
And yet, even as I realize this- even as I recognize the fact that we are all dying, I can only think of one thing: Dora.
I feel guilty that I can think of nothing but her, but as we fight, I watch her every move, ready to jump in front of any stray curse that her defenses miss. of course, there are none. She is brilliant. She smiles at me as we fight out the front doors and onto the grassy lawn.
A small, mousy boy seems to notice our distress and comes immediately to our aid. The sky is pitch black -no stars grace the darkness tonight- but as a streak of red light shoots past and illuminates our little group, I recognize his face.
"Colin Creevy?" I say, recognizing the face from when I had taught him in his second year. "But, you're underage."
"Nothing is going to keep me from helping Harry win this battle!" He cries, his voice unbelievably squeaky for a sixteen year old.
I keep my eyes trained on my wife as I reply, hexing one of the Death Eaters in our little circle of duelists. "Good for you. But still, what about your parents?" I ask, worried for this small boy, clearly no great spellcaster. His feeble curses miss the Death Eaters and soar off into the night, flickering and fading into the distance.
His face falls as if he has remembered something, but before he has the chance to say anything, a jet of green light hits him square in the chest. He crumples, his face forever frozen in a look of longing.
And then something inside me breaks. As I look briefly into the unseeing eyes of Colin Creevy, the young boy who had never done anything to anyone, I feel something break loose.
For a moment, I feel strong, powerful... invincible. For a moment, I feel like a Werewolf.
I send two more Death Eaters reeling off into the night. but even as we fight them off, more are arriving to help them. Dora and I are alone, and that fact brings me away from the monster inside me.
"Dora, go!" I shout at her. She glances at me, her expression a look of fear and grim determination.
"No, Remus," yells back steadily. "I would just as soon walk into a nest of Hungarian Horntails."
"Dora, they outnumber us," I say, my voice pleading. "Please go. For our son."
"That would be the ultimate betrayal," she says. "Leaving to retreat with him while leaving others -leaving you- here to die. Not a chance."
And with that she runs forward to the three remaining Death Eaters with a new fire in her eyes, setting off spells at a speed I would have thought impossible. I follow her without hesitation, for surely if she is killed, death would be more satisfactory than survival.
What I then notice is that a half dozen more Death Eaters are running up behind me. I give my wife one last, longing look before turning and charging the men behind me.
Dora notices that I am not behind her then. She turns, and when she sees my struggle, she runs back to me without hesitation.
"DORA! NO!" The denial rips from my throat, but the damage is done.
As she runs to me, three killing curses hit her in the back.
My beloved Dora falls to the ground midstep.
I scream, an inhuman, animal scream, but I do not attack. All that my instincts tell me is to go to her.
I do, turning and running.
As I fall to my knees and turn her over, gazing into the beautiful face that was mine, the Death Eaters stop for a moment, surprised by my reaction. It gives me a moment to stare into her face, peaceful and sleeplike, except for her beautiful blue eyes, open and glassy. I close them gently.
Then the Death Eaters regain themselves.
It was not the biggest mistake of my life, leaving the battle and ending my life. It was not a mistake at all, for what was life without my beautiful Dora?
Life was meaningless.
Empty.
A shell.
And so I felt an odd sort of contentment as a dozen curses hit me from all sides in a stinging blur of flashing lights.
I feel myself slip sideways as the life drains from my body, my arms still around my beloved. I melt into the ground and my body curves around Dora like it has been waiting for this all my life.
The smell of her shampoo is the last thing I notice.
"She's too young for me."
"I'm no good for her."
"I've made her an outcast."
And as my last thought trails from my mind, I realize how true it is.
So what?