And Then it was I Alone
by: Spirit Wind
Disclaimer: Yes, I know I do not truly own Harry Potter, or any of its characters...unfortunately. This is merely where my mind went at 2:30 in the morning one sad Sunday night as I once again put down Book 5.
It is interesting, is it not, the way the past, which exists in a yesterday long behind you, can still destroy you, haunt your very soul? The spirit almost dies under such an attack that renders one almost senseless with the urge to simply give in. Yes, if there is one thing I have feared in this world it is the past—the past that has always reminded me of what I had and in the same second forces me to cope with that which has been lost. The last marauder many have come to call me, yes I have always known. I felt it myself at times and it was that I was left to stand in this life alone but not truly alone. The friends I had, the ones whom I had held dear but lost have haunted me. I have heard for some time their echoes calling for me, wanting me to join them in their blissful rest but thus far, I have resisted the calling. For, I am not the last marauder. There is one other, turned to darkness—but still he stands. And it had become my task upon this revelation to live to become the last, the last of the four to walk this earth.
For some time I stood alongside James, Sirius, and Peter—ones who fought as I still do to destroy the darkness that preys then and now upon us. But fate is fickle and destiny unkind for in their web they have driven us apart.
The first to fall was James—the strongest of us all for he bore the brunt of being the "hero." And he was for us a hero. Though we all fought and bled together, it was he whom we looked to in the end. In the end, it was he who first understood what destiny held in store for us. I never thought of this until it was too late and he had passed from this world into the unknown. I did not realize what we had lost until there remained but us three—and we wore torn apart. The night of James's death broke us all and in that night I thought I stood alone. My longtime friend, Peter, was dead and Sirius, my other good friend, his murderer.
It was that which dealt the harshest blow of course. To know that one whom I had held so dear in my heart had betrayed our friendship came as a great shock for me. It was a lonely fate I doomed myself to after that night. It was as if I had become nothing but a shell, nothing left within—no care for the world, for myself. And it was I alone who stood bereft of the comfort of my greatest friends, without companions to take away the bitter chill of life. It was I alone that beheld the end. But as with all things, life continued and time passed on. Rumors came to me that the Dark Lord still lived but a pale shadow of himself, rendered almost useless by the blood of my good friend James. Harry...in a way he gave me hope. He rose above the trials that faced him, becoming the "hero" as James had been long ago. I feared for some time of the past repeating itself and I kept myself at a distance to lessen the hurt. But I could not leave it completely be and I found myself once again at Hogwarts where it all began.
He was James's son all right with that tendency for mischief and the constant invitations for trouble and danger. It was as if history was coming together once again. I expected the end to come and hoped not to become too attached. Yet, in face of my best friend's last blood, I failed. He became like a son to me, and something of a miracle almost like a phoenix to rise from the ashes that was our friendship. I wanted to protect him, to assure myself that this last remnant of what was would continue to be—but found that it was nearly impossible. The boy paid no heed to himself, risking himself constantly as well as his companions. I learned quickly enough that it was best if I simply was there and aided him when I could. He proved a miracle once more when he brought to me that which I desired most—a piece of my soul.
It was in that very same year that he returned to me my friend, Sirius. The one I had left for dead, as he was thought to be our traitor was actually innocent of his alleged crimes. He had not murdered Peter, who I learned was very much alive at the time. Of course it hurt me to know what Peter had done to our fellowship; but, it was a relief that I could at least have one of my friends return—especially that it was Sirius. (The three of us were always much closer than with Peter).
Time passed on and though Sirius could not reveal his innocence to the free world, I had my friend. But in the end, I lost him. He fell that night during Harry's fifth year. It was so sudden and shocking, I barely contained myself from leaping after him. And though I felt my anger at Harry for allowing him self to be tricked to come to the Ministry and the ultimate cause of Sirius's death, I could not turn my back on him. You see, he was still a boy—a boy who loved Sirius as much as I had...still do. He did not know the consequences of his actions; and how can I blame such a tragedy on a boy who had already faced so much and would only grow to face much more. He had a destiny before him that would nearly destroy him—and yes, I knew from our first meeting that those obstacles would never destroy him for there are greater things in store for him. He would stand against that which destroyed us and he would be victorious where we lost. There is nothing to be won without something being lost—sadly to say, this time it was we who in the end were sacrificed. The marauders, the four of us, this fight would destroy us. I should have seen it in the beginning but I did not.
Now, as I lay here on the ground I stare into the eyes of the true last marauder—my friend, my enemy. His silver arm is buried deep within my chest and it is becoming rather hard to breathe. I know this is the end for me, as it has always been meant. I do not fear this fate for it is time for me to go. This life was good to me and yet destroyed me—there is nothing, no one left for me. I know Harry will miss me and mourn my passing, taking the blame onto his shoulders. But in time he will understand as we have all come to comprehend the intricate threads of fate. He will grow to be a man and know what a true hero is and it will be he, I know, that will finally destroy the last of the marauders. I do not begrudge him that for it would only be a blessing now that the line ends...though more favorably it would have been in an act of heroism instead of cowardliness.
I can hear the others calling to me now, demanding that I stay with them. Tears fall upon my cheeks from them as they try to pull me back from the veil. The arm is gone from my chest and my mind is numbed now to the pain. They cannot call me back for I hear your voices once again. You are calling to me, yes I hear. And I now answer with my last breath.
by: Spirit Wind
Disclaimer: Yes, I know I do not truly own Harry Potter, or any of its characters...unfortunately. This is merely where my mind went at 2:30 in the morning one sad Sunday night as I once again put down Book 5.
It is interesting, is it not, the way the past, which exists in a yesterday long behind you, can still destroy you, haunt your very soul? The spirit almost dies under such an attack that renders one almost senseless with the urge to simply give in. Yes, if there is one thing I have feared in this world it is the past—the past that has always reminded me of what I had and in the same second forces me to cope with that which has been lost. The last marauder many have come to call me, yes I have always known. I felt it myself at times and it was that I was left to stand in this life alone but not truly alone. The friends I had, the ones whom I had held dear but lost have haunted me. I have heard for some time their echoes calling for me, wanting me to join them in their blissful rest but thus far, I have resisted the calling. For, I am not the last marauder. There is one other, turned to darkness—but still he stands. And it had become my task upon this revelation to live to become the last, the last of the four to walk this earth.
For some time I stood alongside James, Sirius, and Peter—ones who fought as I still do to destroy the darkness that preys then and now upon us. But fate is fickle and destiny unkind for in their web they have driven us apart.
The first to fall was James—the strongest of us all for he bore the brunt of being the "hero." And he was for us a hero. Though we all fought and bled together, it was he whom we looked to in the end. In the end, it was he who first understood what destiny held in store for us. I never thought of this until it was too late and he had passed from this world into the unknown. I did not realize what we had lost until there remained but us three—and we wore torn apart. The night of James's death broke us all and in that night I thought I stood alone. My longtime friend, Peter, was dead and Sirius, my other good friend, his murderer.
It was that which dealt the harshest blow of course. To know that one whom I had held so dear in my heart had betrayed our friendship came as a great shock for me. It was a lonely fate I doomed myself to after that night. It was as if I had become nothing but a shell, nothing left within—no care for the world, for myself. And it was I alone who stood bereft of the comfort of my greatest friends, without companions to take away the bitter chill of life. It was I alone that beheld the end. But as with all things, life continued and time passed on. Rumors came to me that the Dark Lord still lived but a pale shadow of himself, rendered almost useless by the blood of my good friend James. Harry...in a way he gave me hope. He rose above the trials that faced him, becoming the "hero" as James had been long ago. I feared for some time of the past repeating itself and I kept myself at a distance to lessen the hurt. But I could not leave it completely be and I found myself once again at Hogwarts where it all began.
He was James's son all right with that tendency for mischief and the constant invitations for trouble and danger. It was as if history was coming together once again. I expected the end to come and hoped not to become too attached. Yet, in face of my best friend's last blood, I failed. He became like a son to me, and something of a miracle almost like a phoenix to rise from the ashes that was our friendship. I wanted to protect him, to assure myself that this last remnant of what was would continue to be—but found that it was nearly impossible. The boy paid no heed to himself, risking himself constantly as well as his companions. I learned quickly enough that it was best if I simply was there and aided him when I could. He proved a miracle once more when he brought to me that which I desired most—a piece of my soul.
It was in that very same year that he returned to me my friend, Sirius. The one I had left for dead, as he was thought to be our traitor was actually innocent of his alleged crimes. He had not murdered Peter, who I learned was very much alive at the time. Of course it hurt me to know what Peter had done to our fellowship; but, it was a relief that I could at least have one of my friends return—especially that it was Sirius. (The three of us were always much closer than with Peter).
Time passed on and though Sirius could not reveal his innocence to the free world, I had my friend. But in the end, I lost him. He fell that night during Harry's fifth year. It was so sudden and shocking, I barely contained myself from leaping after him. And though I felt my anger at Harry for allowing him self to be tricked to come to the Ministry and the ultimate cause of Sirius's death, I could not turn my back on him. You see, he was still a boy—a boy who loved Sirius as much as I had...still do. He did not know the consequences of his actions; and how can I blame such a tragedy on a boy who had already faced so much and would only grow to face much more. He had a destiny before him that would nearly destroy him—and yes, I knew from our first meeting that those obstacles would never destroy him for there are greater things in store for him. He would stand against that which destroyed us and he would be victorious where we lost. There is nothing to be won without something being lost—sadly to say, this time it was we who in the end were sacrificed. The marauders, the four of us, this fight would destroy us. I should have seen it in the beginning but I did not.
Now, as I lay here on the ground I stare into the eyes of the true last marauder—my friend, my enemy. His silver arm is buried deep within my chest and it is becoming rather hard to breathe. I know this is the end for me, as it has always been meant. I do not fear this fate for it is time for me to go. This life was good to me and yet destroyed me—there is nothing, no one left for me. I know Harry will miss me and mourn my passing, taking the blame onto his shoulders. But in time he will understand as we have all come to comprehend the intricate threads of fate. He will grow to be a man and know what a true hero is and it will be he, I know, that will finally destroy the last of the marauders. I do not begrudge him that for it would only be a blessing now that the line ends...though more favorably it would have been in an act of heroism instead of cowardliness.
I can hear the others calling to me now, demanding that I stay with them. Tears fall upon my cheeks from them as they try to pull me back from the veil. The arm is gone from my chest and my mind is numbed now to the pain. They cannot call me back for I hear your voices once again. You are calling to me, yes I hear. And I now answer with my last breath.