a/n: all this belongs to J.K. Rowling, an amazing storyteller. She is kind enough to let us play in her world.
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He stood there, watching them. He was too far away to hear the words, but he could read their expressions. Grief, amazement, shock, acceptance. He watched Ron stumble away on stiff legs, stare blankly at a boulder for a moment, then kick it savagely before sinking to his knees with a wail of grief. Hermione limped to his side. She sat there, tears streaming down her gaunt face. There was nothing she could say.
The survivors slowly made their way back to the Great Hall. They did not separate into houses, but pushed the tables together. The remaining teachers went to the Head Table, as silent as the students, as silent as Harry and the shades who gathered at the back of the Hall; their work wasn't finished yet.
Finally, McGonagall stood. Ashe streaked her robes and her hair was disheveled. There was a shocked stoicism in her steely eyes.
"Voldemort is dead." There was no applause, no cheering. The occupants glanced around, seeing the missing of their number.
"The price was too high."
-We willingly paid it- whispered the ghosts of several third years.
"They were taken from us too soon."
-We will always be with you- whispered the prefects.
"We will never forget their sacrifice."
-Never forget- echoed a pair of fifth years.
"We will continue. We will make them proud of us."
-We are honored to have known you- said the Head Boy and Girl.
McGonagall sat and a sixth year Hufflepuff stood hesitantly. "A toast," she aid. "to my sister."
A young first year walked to her and whispered -I love you, Jainey-
Individuals stood, remembering lost friends and family, allowing their shades to deliver last messages.
"Why did you have to die?"
-So that you could live-
"Why? That's all I want to know, why did you leave me?"
-I haven't left you, love, I'm always with you-
"Why?"
-Because there are some things worth fighting for-
-Because there are some things worht fighting against-
-Because there are some things worth dying for-
Hermione stood, swaying slightly. She seemed to look right at Harry and Ginny, who were standing in front of her and Ron. "Be well, my friends," she said simply.
-We'll be waiting, Hermione. There's no hurry- they whispered together.
Hermione sat, looking calmer then she had in several years. Ron stood. He stared around the room, at the ceiling which seemed to be mourning with the rest of them, the banners which seemed listless in the still air, the floor which was dull and cold.
"Ginny," he finally whispered, "take care of yourself. I miss you."
Ginny brushed a soft kiss on his cheek.
"Harry," Ron faltered. "I don't know what to say." He leaned forward until his weight was on his arms, his head sunk between his shoulders as he stared at the table.
"God damn you, Harry Potter," he finally said. "You weren't supposed to die." There was no heat in the words, just a pained acceptance.
-You are my best friend, Ron. Thank you. I'll be watching out for you- Harry finally whispered.
The shades gathered in the center of the hall where a glowing tunnel had formed. They turned and entered, returning to the arms of family and friends. For a moment the occupants in the Hall could have sworn they heard again the voices of their lost ones, calling goodbye.
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He stood there, watching them. He was too far away to hear the words, but he could read their expressions. Grief, amazement, shock, acceptance. He watched Ron stumble away on stiff legs, stare blankly at a boulder for a moment, then kick it savagely before sinking to his knees with a wail of grief. Hermione limped to his side. She sat there, tears streaming down her gaunt face. There was nothing she could say.
The survivors slowly made their way back to the Great Hall. They did not separate into houses, but pushed the tables together. The remaining teachers went to the Head Table, as silent as the students, as silent as Harry and the shades who gathered at the back of the Hall; their work wasn't finished yet.
Finally, McGonagall stood. Ashe streaked her robes and her hair was disheveled. There was a shocked stoicism in her steely eyes.
"Voldemort is dead." There was no applause, no cheering. The occupants glanced around, seeing the missing of their number.
"The price was too high."
-We willingly paid it- whispered the ghosts of several third years.
"They were taken from us too soon."
-We will always be with you- whispered the prefects.
"We will never forget their sacrifice."
-Never forget- echoed a pair of fifth years.
"We will continue. We will make them proud of us."
-We are honored to have known you- said the Head Boy and Girl.
McGonagall sat and a sixth year Hufflepuff stood hesitantly. "A toast," she aid. "to my sister."
A young first year walked to her and whispered -I love you, Jainey-
Individuals stood, remembering lost friends and family, allowing their shades to deliver last messages.
"Why did you have to die?"
-So that you could live-
"Why? That's all I want to know, why did you leave me?"
-I haven't left you, love, I'm always with you-
"Why?"
-Because there are some things worth fighting for-
-Because there are some things worht fighting against-
-Because there are some things worth dying for-
Hermione stood, swaying slightly. She seemed to look right at Harry and Ginny, who were standing in front of her and Ron. "Be well, my friends," she said simply.
-We'll be waiting, Hermione. There's no hurry- they whispered together.
Hermione sat, looking calmer then she had in several years. Ron stood. He stared around the room, at the ceiling which seemed to be mourning with the rest of them, the banners which seemed listless in the still air, the floor which was dull and cold.
"Ginny," he finally whispered, "take care of yourself. I miss you."
Ginny brushed a soft kiss on his cheek.
"Harry," Ron faltered. "I don't know what to say." He leaned forward until his weight was on his arms, his head sunk between his shoulders as he stared at the table.
"God damn you, Harry Potter," he finally said. "You weren't supposed to die." There was no heat in the words, just a pained acceptance.
-You are my best friend, Ron. Thank you. I'll be watching out for you- Harry finally whispered.
The shades gathered in the center of the hall where a glowing tunnel had formed. They turned and entered, returning to the arms of family and friends. For a moment the occupants in the Hall could have sworn they heard again the voices of their lost ones, calling goodbye.