Disclaimer: "Harry Potter" and most things connected with it (that you recognize) don't belong to me. A couple of the characters - most notably, Sean - are mine.
Summary: One of a hero's last friends remembers him in a world darker than anyone could ever have imagined.
Note: This is a short story based on an idea, and I guess it's A/U, because certain events have changed (or rather, never happened).
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~ A Hero's Grave ~
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It's dark outside, and silent . . . unbearably silent. I sit in the shadows and solitude of my prison cell, a cold prison cell of Azkaban taken over by evil. I don't know why I'm here. I haven't done anything wrong - only fight for the people I loved, for the world I love. You put me here, but I don't hate you for it. I can't hate you.
So I sit here quietly, unmoving, lost inside the shining prison of my own mind. Even the other prisoners no longer scream - they've lost the strength, they've lost the heart. I don't even know who they are anymore, and they don't know me. I'd break the glass of water lying here and slice my wrists if I could, but you don't want me to take the easy way out, and I guess you're right.
I lost everyone to the war. We thought Voldemort was the ultimate evil, and we fought him with everything we had . . . until we won. But he took something away from us when he was gone, and that was a terrible price to pay because the days are darker than they ever have been in history.
I lost my best friends. I lost the people who had become my family. I even lost the man I loved. You killed him. Cruel, especially since Sirius was one of the people you cared about the most.
And I keep sitting here in the darkness, remembering you . . .
I remember the countless moments we've all spent together, laughing, joking, fighting, arguing - doing battle together and beating all the odds because that's what we did. I was one third of a Golden - group - that became infamous over the years. We've hexed each other, thrown vicious words at each other, and come close to killing each other - but in the end, we were always there to pull each other through. All of us.
But that's gone now, and what's the point in remembering?
Why should I keep seeing your sweet, once innocent smile in my head? Why should your vibrant, laughing eyes flash before my darkened gaze when I try to shut it? What point is there in me remembering the warm, reassuring sound of your voice, the commands of authority that saved my life so many times? Why have you left me to thos torture of remembering, damn you?!
My head hurts. My heart aches so unbearably. I'm tired, I'm so sick and tired. I have nothing left to live for here . . . except for you - but it hurts too much to remember that it's you.
We thought we'd won three years ago. I guess we were wrong, Harry, because when Voldemort died, he took you with him.
Something focuses in my vision. I look at the cracked wall next to me, and I see that somehow during my bittersweet memories, I've written something into the granite with the end of a stone.
1986 - 2003
A man walks these hallways. He has your untidy black hair, your green eyes and your thin yet strong frame. He's a murderer and a tormenter. He carries a holly-and-phoenix-feather wand and a Snitch in his hands. But he isn't you. I won't believe that. You died a long time ago.
My wall will be a hero's tombstone, and I will live in the grave of a hero.
Because you died. Or at least, your soul did. And with it, so did your memories - the same memories that haunt me now.
And I'm still sitting here in his icy prison cell, waiting for the sound of your footsteps against the hard floor, waiting for a reason I can't explain because no matter what, you're the only thing I have left.
So I'll wait, Harry, like I have for three years - wait in futile hope for the day that a spark will reawaken in the cold wasteland of your heart and a hero's grave will be no more. And maybe then, finally, you'll remember the past -
Maybe then you'll remember who I really am. Harry, Hermione and Ron - the Golden Trio.
I hope you'll remember Ron. Because you killed him too.
I smile bitterly, knowing that I'm a fool. You will never remember. You were lost three years ago, when your soul was ripped away with Voldemort's body. This grave will last forever, like a hero's grave always is.
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A/N: Just a short story I needed to write. Please review and let me know what you guys think! -->