Memories.
That's all they were now. So many loved ones reduced to so many pearlescent wisps.
Harry stared down at the cold, grey face of Fred Weasley and felt his heart being squeezed by an iron fist. Why had so many had to die? Sure, they'd won, but at such a price. With trembling fingers he reached tentatively towards Fred's face, and carefully brushed blood-encrusted hair from his lifeless eyes. He released a shuddering breath.
This body before him was Fred, but at the same time not at all. It looked like Fred; it had his eyes, his fiery hair, his freckles and lanky limbs, but it wasn't him. All the important parts were missing; all the parts that made him Fred. Harry already missed the way his eyes lit up, as some mischievous idea flourished in his mind. He thought of the jokes he would now never tell, and the pranks that he would never pull.
He could remember the day he'd first met Fred at King's Cross. At a time when the kindness of strangers was still a bewildering concept for Harry, Fred had been the one to help him board the Hogwarts Express for the first time, and it had meant the world. Even more amazing though, was the way he and George had gone on to adopt Harry as an honorary brother, confiding in him in a way they didn't even with Ron. Harry recalled the day they'd gifted him the Marauders' Map, and Fred's cheer of approval when he'd made the Quiddich team.
Harry wiped his sleeve across his face as silent tears spilled down his cheeks. These memories were all he had now, and he wouldn't forget.
He promised himself there and then. He would never, ever forget.
Written for: the 'Game of Life' Challenge. Prompt: memory
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
CC cover image (entitled 'Smoke Profile') courtesy of Bill Gracey on Flickr.
A/N: Thanks for reading! I'm planning for this to be a multi-chap, as I have some ideas for where it might go, so if you enjoyed please do follow for more. Or alternatively, if you hated it, please do let me know why! :) GG x