Hey everyone...this is my first Harry and Ginny fic so i hope you like it. There is also a bit of Ron and Hermione in it because I just had to put a bit in. Can't help it. Anyway I hope you enjoy and please leave a review.

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Dawn of Memories

The old man was startled by the scream. The hungry gull screeched again, hovering above the mist of the lonely and chilly dawn. Realizing what the scream was, the old man settled down to his thoughts again.

Why had he come here? It brought back so many bitter memories and it was so far from his home. Yet, he felt drawn to this place where his life had changed so many years ago. His thoughts were clear despite his aching tiredness.

The last battle had finally come--the battle that was going to determine the future of the wizarding and muggle worlds. Everyone had fought--Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Lupin, Tonks, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Fred and George.

And then there was the three of them, jumping from the boat and wading towards the beach. Even then he hadn't been fully aware of the great evil he faced but knew he was the only one who could face it. He knew the Dark Lord could do terrible things; he had witness many of his murders, but nothing could prepare him for the dreadful consequence of the next few hours.

McGonagall was first to go down that fateful morning, then Snape and Lupin and then the great Dumbledore, whom he had admired and though impossible to defeat. Many more followed after them. Finally his best friends Ron and Hermione had fallen too, sacrificing their lives so he could finish him. And he had—and even though he had rid the world of the worst evil it had ever faced, he didn't care. Everyone who was important to him--everyone worth living for--had died.

He had collapsed after that, right into the sand dunes--the dunes where he was sitting right now.

"Why was I the only one?" he cried loudly. "Why?"

He didn't know whom he was calling but he didn't really expect an answer.

Everyone had died for him--his parents, his godfather, his best friends. This thought had tortured him. He had lived—a lonely soul, wandering the world looking for something, anything, that could make his life worth living. It didn't matter he had defeated the most feared and powerful Dark Wizard alive. He had no one.

His head dropped into his gnarled hands and tears slowly fell from his eyes and rolled down his cheeks.

The old man's thoughts turned to his beautiful wife, whom he had loved so dearly. He could almost reach into the mist and touch her; feel her velvety red hair, touch her soft freckly skin and look into her brown eyes.

They had married young because they knew that their future was uncertain. She had been murdered as well...because of him. It had been so quick, over in a second but the curse had been thrown and she had dropped without a sound. He remembered that she had told him once, if she died, not to give up--to defeat Voldemort for her. He still didn't know how he managed to do it in the end, his pain was still so fresh and raw, but somehow he did.

But that couldn't bring her back. He could never be with her again; hold her, kiss her, love her. He thought of his best friends, who had finally gotten together in the seventh year. He felt so envious of them now; at least now they were together.

The gull screeched, swooping to attach a small crab.

The nights were the worst. The dreams were so vivid, so painful, that they kept him awake, forcing him to relive every moment.

The old man carelessly tossed the gull some bread.

What was it about this place? Why did he need to be here?

The old man was unaware of the small crowd of people walking along the beach, just barely visible in the early morning mist, until they were quite nearby. It was quite an unusual group made up of people of various different ages. He froze with fear, as someone his age was always vulnerable to attack these days.

They all looked deeply into his eyes. As he stared at them, the color drained from his face.

How was it possible? He wanted to panic, run, cry, laugh--he didn't know what to do.

Tears of happiness filled his eyes. He raised his frail arms and grasped the hands offered to him. Their hugs felt so real. It couldn't be a dream. And when he saw her a strangled scream escaped his lips. It just couldn't be possible. She looked not a day older than the day she died, the vibrant red hair still glowing brightly. She grinned cheekily at him--the smile that had haunted him--and kissed him gently on the lips. It couldn't be a dream! She took his arms and started to lead him down the beach towards the slowly rising sun.

Once again the greedy gull screeched for attention and the old man turned to throw it his last piece of bread.

He turned and started to run down the beach with his loved ones; Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Dumbledore, Lupin. And as he ran he felt himself transform into his 18-year-old self again—the age at which he had truly died. He looked forward to the growing sun and saw his parents and his godfather, waiting. Waiting for him to finally join them.

There on the sand lay the frail and lifeless body of an old man. No one knew who he was when they found him; but they all noticed, when they looked very closely, the barest outline of a lightning shape scar on his forehead.

The End

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