May 2, 2023

Oliver Wood settled back in his chair as the Minister for Magic approached the podium. He had known Percy Weasley for a long time—all their lives, really—and while his best mate could go on and on about anything, the twenty-fifth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts was hardly "anything."

As Percy began a detailed reminiscence of the past quarter-century, Oliver's mind drifted even further, back to the end of the last Triwizard Tournament. A reserve keeper for Puddlemere United that year, he and the entire team had been part of the enormous crowd that turned up for the Third Task. Oliver had been in the stands when the murmurings began about missing champions, had seen Harry Potter Apparate with Cedric Diggory's body and the Triwizard Cup. Oliver remembered the summer of slander in the press, Percy's desperation to keep working in the Ministry, his growing impatience with his family's insistence on the return of Voldemort, and finally … a furious, obstinate, shattered wizard arriving unannounced on his doorstep one evening that July. Most of all, Oliver remembered Percy waking him in the middle of the night over a year later to deliver the news of the death of both his older brothers, and the two years following that Oliver spent hounding Percy to make peace with his family before they reunited at a funeral.

He'd succeeded by such a thin margin it still felt like failure.

Percy had moved on from talking about his personal experiences during the war (which everyone knew, anyway—it had been an interesting ministerial campaign, to say the least) and was now recounting the various reforms the Ministry had implemented in hopes of preventing any future megalomaniacs from trying to kill the majority of the wizarding population. While Oliver was proud of the accomplishments of not just Percy, but many of their generation, he was already familiar with the entire list.

Were it not for the trappings of a stage and his friend's receding hairline, they could have been fifteen years old again. With the backdrop of the lake and the castle rising on the cliffs above, Percy's enthusiastic gesturing making his glasses slide down his nose, the words coming out of his mouth could as easily have been about his latest project in Muggle Studies as the latest Muggle protection legislation.

Merlin, that was thirty years ago now. His eyes caught the trio of dark-haired witches in the front row, nearly identical from the back—Audrey, Molly, and Lucy. There were not many things that made Oliver feel old, but the kids did. His and Katie's, Percy's … shoot, even George and Angelina's youngest was fourteen! Roxie would be a fifth year herself this autumn.

And, thankfully, each and every one of those kids, and countless more, had had peaceful childhoods. That was the celebration of this day, amidst the lingering sadness. Those first few years of memorials had been excruciating, a scraping of wounds that refused to heal. But now … with distance and perspective, with many of the reforms they once hoped for a reality … now it felt like a victory that could be celebrated. They had made a better world for their children. They had prevented dark wizards from gaining power and influence. There was more tolerance, more acceptance, more understanding. Oliver was proud of the work that had been done, proud of Percy's significant role in it … proud that he'd kept his speech to—he squinted at his watch in the weak sunlight just slanting across the lake—under thirty minutes.

After the applause (which sounded genuinely appreciative, whether of Percy's words or his timeline Oliver wasn't certain), Oliver reached for Katie's hand. Everyone knew what was coming next: the reading of the names.

It took less than ten minutes, but to those who at been at the castle that night, it always felt like an eternity. After twenty-five years, even the people Oliver hadn't known were familiar, and there was always the recognition of family names. If he hadn't gone to school with them, he had with an older brother or sister … or one of his brothers had. With two wars in a single generation, Britain's wizarding population was pitifully small.

Harry Potter waited until the echo of the last name faded completely, then left the stage. It was over.

"Breakfast?" Katie suggested once the crowd began to disperse.

"You go ahead." Oliver nodded towards the front. "I'm going to wait for Percy."

She smiled and squeezed his hand before letting go, but Oliver remained seated. Percy would know where to find him.

With hands to shake and family to hug, it took nearly as long as the ceremony itself before Percy made his way to Oliver's seat. His stomach rumbled as Perce approached.

"Should I be flattered you skipped breakfast to wait for me?" he asked dryly.

"Nice speech," Oliver said.

"You didn't hear half of it," Percy accused.

Oliver met his friend's eyes. "I heard enough."

Percy nodded once, brushing non-existent dust from his robes. "Cheers," he said quietly.

"How are you?"

Away from the public and the eagle eyes of both the press and his family, Percy dropped the Minister of Magic persona and flopped into a nearby chair.

"I hate everything about this day."

"Not everything," Oliver said, hoping to remind him of his niece's birthday.

"Victoire's party is always in the evening. That's not day," Percy said irritably.

"Mmm-hmm."

"He would have hated it too."

Oliver knew without asking the "he" was Fred. "George doesn't seem to mind," he said mildly.

Percy snorted. "My point exactly. It's not about the people who died, it's about the living. The survivors."

Oliver considered this for a moment. "Is that bad?"

Percy sighed, sliding his glasses up to pinch the bridge of his nose with one hand. "I don't know, Ollie. I just. Don't. Know."

"What does today mean to you, Perce?"

"Other than a public airing of my private failings every bloody year?"

"Yes, other than that," Oliver said, a slight edge to his tone. Merlin, Percy could be a self-pitying git. It was not one of Oliver's favorite qualities about his friend.

"I am proud of the changes we've made. Not—not because I helped make them, not the way I was proud of working in the Ministry in the beginning, but just … because it's good work. It's good work for a good cause, and I'm proud of that."

"I think Fred would be too."

Percy raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Really. He'd humiliate you in the admitting of it, but yeah. I think he would. You've helped their deaths mean something, Percy."

The two men watched the sun rise in a silence only comfortable between long-time friends.

a/n: Be sure you're following the sister fic, Reflections, by MandyinKC! She'll return with another chapter tomorrow.