Speak Good of the Death
A War never is something to be led of light spirit and that one had not been different. There had been deaths; there had been hunger and millions of cold-blooded murders, not every one of them executed by the Death Eaters. At a certain point, rare were the families who didn't lost somebody and even some Muggles had perished in the fight that nothing to do with them.
In a War, both the sides kill with the same insensitive cruelty, at the moment, the definition between the Good and Evil are fragile and the ones that fight cannot see it clearly.
In the end, who wins and who loses?
In the end, both sides of the coin show tragedy. Nobody wins, except the nightmares and the monsters whose realm is the darkness. The 2nd Magical War didn't break the rule.
And Harry Potter saw that every night, in every death that he'd watched, without being able to do anything. In his dreams, the war never ends.
First, the blinding green light that's the only thing he remembers from his parent's death.
Sirius' body falling in a graceful curve through the veil, becoming just one more whisper on the other side. Eternally falling on Harry's nightmare. The Memory of Sirius' Death becoming more important than the Memory of Sirius' Life.
Neville, the first death that he remembered from the actual was. He died with a smile on his lips and the belief that he was doing the Right Thing. Harry had the coward wish of dying with his friend, with the same smile and no doubts in his mind.
Draco Malfoy perished at his own hands. And in his dream, Harry thought how ridiculous they looked, killing each other for a war that didn't say him as much as in the beginning.
Ginny Weasley killed herself a week after Malfoy's fall. She was found by Harry, hanging on the ceiling of her bedroom. On the floor there was a note, written with hers, still childish, handwriting. It said: "I loved him and you killed him. Fuck you all." It was the most honest thing Harry ever read about that war. In his dream, Ginny's corpse read the note (over, and over, and o v e r again) and laughed.
And Harry laughed with her. He understood the irony.
Then came the millions of dead bodies, innocents that had lost their lives with a bomb that he helped create. Blaming eyes, eaten by ravens.
At this point, he knew that he was only dreaming, but that didn't make the images, the memories, the voices, less real. But at least, he knew that he was almost waking up, it was one more death to witness.
Tom Riddle's. His cold body lifeless against Harry's. And the tears of the Boy who survived falling in his face. While Harry was frozen there, crying, people came and felicitated him. They thought he was crying of joy.
Then he woke up from his never-ending nightmare, and tears of pain and laughter run through his face.
He didn't know how to act. He didn't know what to feel. So, he would get up and finish with all the scotch and the Prozac in the house.
They (and who are they?) invited him to write some words about the destruction of Lord Voldemort. Harry wrote:
"Tom was a good friend and colleague. Always available and a friend of his friends, he always paid it forward. His temper and his ambition were only one more trace of his strong personality.
Leaves wife and kids"
"They" were shocked and hired a professional writer to do it in Harry's name.
He didn't get why. He always thought that when someone died you should say nice things about him.
N.A: Originally, this was in Portuguese (and was really better that way), but I decided to translate it. I really hope you liked it.
I was kind of tired when I wrote it and I decided that this on-shot is too fragile to get revised.
Please review and tell me what you think of it. (I hope that it doesn't have any BIG grammar mistake)