I do not own either Harry Potter of Les Miserables.

Every year on May 2 there was a public ceremony at the Ministry of Magic that was broadcasted over the wizarding wireless to commemorate the Battle of Hogwarts. This happened at noon every May 2nd, without fail. Afterwards, in the fading light of day with lanterns hanging and burning bright, a more private commemoration was held at Hogwarts where only the survivors of the Battle, and the students of the school, attended.

When it was dry outside the commemoration happened at the tombs of Dumbledore and Snape, the two tombs of white and black marble a stark reminder of two men who had given almost their whole lives to ridding the world of Lord Voldemort. When it was too wet outside the ceremony was moved into the Great Hall. The tables were set aside and the benches were set up for the students in rows while folding chairs were set up for the survivors at the front of the hall. It always seemed to surprise the first years that their Herbology professor had had such a monumental role in the Battle of Hogwarts. Of course, students had told them, but actually seeing him participating in the ceremony was something interesting for the first years.

Behind the Head Table where the teachers sat, a large plaque had been placed on the wall. It was bronze and named every single person from Hogwarts who had died in the First and Second War, listed by date with a miniature House Seal in front of their name. On the top of the plaque was the Hogwarts seal, and underneath the seal were the individual seals of the Four Houses. It was said that the design for the plaque was purposeful. The first design idea had been to list the dead by date and by House. However, Harry Potter had suggested (very loudly) that the dead had not died for their particular House. They had all died for the same cause and that grouping them by house would cause future generations of brag and ostracize others. So the grouping by date with the stamp of the house in front of each name was created.

Each year a survivor would get up and give a speech. It was more to the students than anything, and weaved into the speeches were usually memories of friends who had died. Many of the same themes were spoken about each year: friendship, love, family, loyalty, etc. But every person who spoke was different and their takes and explanations equally as different.

This year, it was Harry Potter's turn to speak. He had his two eldest at Hogwarts. One was a third year Gryffindor, the other was a first year Slytherin. The students were very excited to hear him speak. Him, Harry Potter. His name still held weight and awe.

"Today marks the 20th year since the Battle of Hogwarts," Harry said. "Twenty years of peace. Not a problem free twenty years, but peace all the same. Public speaking has never been a forte of mine and I had trouble figuring out what to say to all of you. It came to me when I overheard my daughter and nephew playing in my daughter's room."

"Twenty years have come and gone. None of you were alive when Lord Voldemort was destroyed. Many of you are children of the battle, but none of you, except maybe a few of the apprentices here, were born. Because of this, because of time, a disconnect has come between my generation and yours. You hear stories, you hear us give speeches, but you don't understand. You don't understand the pain of loss, the fear of death, or even the fear of life."

Harry moved back to the plaque. He gazed at it for a moment before looking back over the crowd. "Students, you see here this plaque every day. How many of you have come and given this plaque a good look? How many of you have actually studied this plaque beyond trying to find a classmate's aunt or uncle or cousin? Here!" He pointed to two names under an early date. 31 October, 1981.

"Those are my parents. And here. Remus and Tonks Lupin. You all know Teddy Lupin, Magical Creatures Apprentice. Orphans of war. Some of you get annoyed at your parents. My children get annoyed at my wife and I. But at least you have parents to get annoyed at. And without a doubt, your parents fought in the Battle of Hogwarts, or in Diagon Alley, or in another wizarding community. The parents didn't fight for themselves. They fought for us children. They knew that they might die, but having their children growing up parentless in a world of peace was a better alternative in their minds than letting us grow up with parents in a prejudice world."

He pointed to several names under the date for the Battle of Hogwarts.

"Fred Weasley. Colin Creevy. Lavender Brown. I knew them. I had meals with them. Imagine some of the people that you sit with at breakfast, lunch and dinner. Imagine your year-mates that you've known for your whole career at Hogwarts. Imagine if one day you woke up and they weren't there. Imagine if your brother was killed. Or your sister. Or your cousin."

Harry sighed and turned fully to the crowd. "How many of you have one foot in the Muggle world?" Many hands from the students rose. "Then you might understand what I'm about to do. I visited my Muggle cousin a week or so back and he and I took our children to a theater production. A musical, it's called where much of the dialogue is sung. This production was about a Muggle War. If you were paying attention in History of Magic, this war was what drove several wizarding families, like the Malfoy's, to England. At the end of this production a survivor reminisces about his friends that he has lost. I think his words capture what I want to convey perfectly."

Professor Longbottom put the needle on the record on the gramophone.

"There's a grief that can't be spoken," Harry began. Several students gasped. "There's a pain goes on and on. Empty chairs at empty tables, now my friends are dead and gone."

Many of the survivors started to get watery eyes.

"Here they talked of revolution," Harry continued, glancing around the Great Hall. "Here is was they lit the flame. Here they sang about tomorrow, and tomorrow never came. From the table in the corner, they could see a world reborn. And they rose with voices ringing! And I can hear them now! The very words that they had sung became their last communion on the lonely barricade at dawn."

Molly Weasley was sobbing quietly into a handkerchief. On one side Arthur Weasley put his arm around her shoulders and on her other side, George rested his hand on her leg. George looked as if he were trying his very hardest not to join his mother in sobbing, though a few tears were running down his cheeks.

Harry continued.

"Oh my friends, my friends forgive me. That I live and you are gone. There's a grief that can't be spoken. There's a pain goes on and on. Phantom faces at the window. Phantom shadows on the floor. Empty chairs at empty tables where my friends will meet no more. Oh my friends, my friends, don't ask me what your sacrifice was for. Empty chairs at empty tables where my friends will meet no more."

Many of the Muggle-borns and half-blood students who lived mostly in the Muggle world during the holidays were crying. The survivors of the Battle of Hogwarts all had wet cheeks.

When the survivors had left and only the students and teachers remained at Hogwarts, a group of students gathered in front of the plaque, really looking at it. Some of them were pureblood, some half-blood, some Muggle-born. One of the girls ran her hand over several names.

"Did you see them, going off to fight?" the girl sang softly.

"Children of the barricade, who didn't last the night?" her friend answered, singing as well.

An older student, a girl as well, gazed at the names. "Did you see them lying where they died? Did you see them lying side by side? Someone use to cradle them and kiss them when they cried."

The students stopped.

"Children." The students turned to Professor Longbottom. "It's time you went to your houses."

"Professor," a tiny boy said. "Are these two people related to you?" he pointed to two names. Frank and Alice Longbottom.

"Yes," the professor replied. "Those are my parents."

"You were a war orphan too?"

"My parents are alive at St. Mungos, children. The date you see their names under is the date they were tortured into insanity by a Death Eater." He gave a sad smile. "But essentially, yes. I was a war orphan."

The students walked to the entrance of the Great Hall and paused only long enough to look back towards their professor. He conjured a fat white candle and lit it, setting it on a stand just below the plaque.