Hogwarts Sundown May 2, 2001
Kingsley Shacklebolt caught his breath. Three more names and he would be done. Three more names and the battle was ever further away. Three more names and memories could be celebrated.
"Elf Tankers"
Almost all of the kitchen elves present bowed their head. She had been one of the sous chefs. The elves had lost heavily when they stormed the flank of the Death Eaters. Most of the elves had been wounded in the hand to hand fighting. Four had been killed, three in the first minute.
"Frederick Weasley"
Molly cried out. Her face was deep in Arthur's shoulders. He held his wife offering strength and taking strength from her. Between the two of them, they could stand. George looked even worse than his mother. Exhaustion from pacing the hallways of St. Mungo's during Angelique's prolonged and eventually successful labor combined with the phantom limb that he forever felt. The past three years had been spent discovering that he was just George instead of FredandGeorge. His brother, his best friend and his twin would never see the new twins; Fredericka and Georgina Weasley. Both her happy and healthy. Fredericka had already managed to spray her mother when she was not expecting a piss. Her namesake had to be having one hell of a laugh in the beyond when he saw the look on his sister in-law's face.
Ginny grabbed Harry's arm and her fingers dug into his tricep. He offered her a pillar just as she had protected him when Remus and Tonks' names were called. Teddy Lupin gave his Auntie Ginnie a hug as he knew hugs were powerful magic when he felt sad and had tears and Auntie Ginnie gave wonderful hugs whenever he hurt himself.
Hermione had engulfed Ron. Her arms were around his waist. Her fingers locked over his wrist. He was in a straitjacket of love. His fiancee leaned against Fleur who held Bill's hand tightly. The brave cursebreakinger and one of the youngest members of the Order of the Phoenix held his squirming daughter. She was poking her father in the face and curious as to why he held a stone face instead of a silly face. She poked more to produce the desired response.
Kingsley looked at the list. It never got shorter. One more name had been added as a centaur had succumbed to her wounds in January. A few witches and wizards had cursed injuries that the Healers could contain and isolate but not cure. They were among the living but they would also be among the memorialized when their lives were shortened.
"And all the others who gave their lives to fight the darkness and bring light into this world, named and unnamed, you will never be forgotten." The broad shouldered Minister of Magic touched his wand to his throat. Finite. The voice projection spell faded. He shook his head as this never got easier. The pain got further away every day and he seldom had to confront it except on days like today, but then it was still immediate and visceral. He could be weak after he was publicly strong.
Harry had stepped onto the stage. He had the place of honor today to dedicate the gray granite obelisk that had all the names of the dead carved on its base. A public subscription had been collected over the past eighteen months for the memorial. It had been oversubscribed. The one hundred foot column dominated the lower part of the Hogwarts grounds. It stood sentinel at the crossroad of the Hogsmeade Gate and the path to the renovated Quidditch Pitch. An enchanted lamp would give light along the path to those who were doing well to others.
Harry pulled out parchment. It would be a short speech and it was a cribbed speech that Hermione had helped him prepare. She still helped him with his homework.
"A great Muggle had a similar duty seven generations. His words are far greater than mine ever could be as I see the spectres of our friends and families that we lost. I see Fred Weasley whenever I need to laugh. I see Professor Lupin as I confront the Dark. I see Tankers and Elvo whenever I eat an incredible meal. I see everyone who passed through the veil that day and I hear all those who died in our fight against Voldemort's twisted ideology of hatred and division. I cry as I think of Professor Dumbledore. The bravest man I ever knew and I wish i had known of his bravery before he died lays here, Professor Snape saved us all and protected as many as he could. But let me go back to that Muggle as his words at their greatest battlefield are appropriate here:
we can not dedicate - we can not consecrate - we can not hallow - this ground. The brave men, women, wizards and witches, elves and centaurs, giants and ghosts, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us - that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion - that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vainHarry stepped away from the podium. He pulled his childhood wand from its holster and slowly raised it. The hundreds of witches and wizards in the crowd also raised their wands.
"LUMOS"
The lamp was lit for all to use.
