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, and he realized how tired he was. His thoughts wandered to the events of the past hours: Gringotts, the dragon, Hogwarts, the battle, Lupin, Tonks, Fred. Suddenly Harry stopped. He turned to face Ron, “Ron, I-” he started. “Harry, I know – it’s not your fault,” Ron cut him off, knowing his friend well enough, “It’s how he would have wanted to go.” Ron’s eyes glazed over but continued, “We all knew going in that there was a chance we wouldn’t all make it out.” Unconvinced but realizing an argument in his tired state was futile he turned and continued. In silent agreement the trio avoided the Great Hall, making their way up to the Gryffindor common room. Along the way they were met with reminders of the battle – a crumbled wall here, a destroyed classroom there. Splintered wood and rubble littered the path. Exhaustion leading the way, Harry could barely comprehend the horror for what it was.
Out side the common room the Fat Lady beamed down at them, “The password is ‘new beginnings’.” “Seriously?” Harry asked before Hermione pushed his way through the portrait hole. Ron followed the two, chuckling at the Fat Lady’s grumpy demeanor after Harry’s remark. Ron and Harry crossed the common room and began mounting the stairs to the boy’s dormitories. Harry could already feel the warmth of his four poster bed awaiting him just a few steps away. “What’s wrong Hermione?” Ron said, tearing Harry away from his thoughts. He looked back and saw Hermione standing at the bottom of the stairs. Sensing her hesitation Harry walked over to Hermione and stating matter of factly, “You aren’t going to your dorms – there are plenty of beds in our dorm.” She blushed slightly, “I just don’t want to be alone.” Ron walked down and hesitantly put his arm around her shoulder, “You won’t be.”
Once the three finally made it to the room, Harry immediately began circling the room, wand out muttering spells. “Harry what are you doing?” Ron asked. “Just because Voldemort is gone doesn’t mean it’s safe.” Finishing the chore Harry then collapsed on his bed, fully clothed, only taking a moment to kick off his trainers before seizing the soft blankets and covering himself. By now the sun was shining brightly in the sky, and the news of Voldemort’s defeat was spreading around the world, but the trio didn’t notice – they were too tired to notice and instead attempted to sleep away the reminders of the night’s battle. For the first time since Bill and Fluer’s wedding, Harry felt he could sleep soundly; however, it didn’t last long. Visions of the battle took hold of his dreams – Fred laughing only to be blown away a second later, Dobby’s small frame limp in Harry’s hands, the looks of the distraught families coming to retrieve lost ones.
He awoke with a start, covered in a cold sweat and gasping for air. The sun was shining through his window and seemed to poke at him until he gave up and got out of bed. Putting on his glasses he looked around the dorm room. It seemed to be one of the few locations in Hogwarts that was spared damage from the battle. His eyes swept over to Ron’s bed, and he was shocked to see two forms. Hermione lay curled under the blankets with Ron’s arms protectively around her. A pang of sadness washed over him – he needed to see her. He needed to hold her, to hope she would forgive him. Ignoring his mangled state of dirt and blood stained robes and skin, he quietly crept from the room, hoping not to wake the new couple. As he slipped down the stairs, to his amazement, he saw every chair, couch and floor surface taken up by sleeping, redheaded Weasleys. Unsure of the time, and afraid to wake anyone, he shuffled to the portrait hole, taking on last look behind him to make sure everyone remained asleep. His eyes caught the
sight of Ginny – her flaming red hair just visible from underneath the pile of blankets. Deciding to wait, he left and wandered the halls. Dread filled him once again as the light proved the worst of the damages. Focusing on his feet, he roamed aimlessly, thoughts of war invading his mind once again. How could all this suffering have occurred? Why hadn’t he found the horcruxes earlier? He was suddenly thrown from his thoughts as a shuffle was made behind him. Instinctively he snatched out his wand only to find a soot covered Mrs. Norris stepping out from a pile of rubble. His heart returning to a normal level he came to realize he wasn’t holding his wand, but in fact the Elder Wand. ‘This needs to be returned’ he concluded, knowing the right choice he redirected himself toward the castle exit. As he came close to the Great Hall he could hear noises from survivors who were trying to comfort each other from the losses. Not wanting to be caught up in it he pulled out his invisibility cloak and slid away
unnoticed. The click from the portrait hole jerked Ginny awake. She had come up alone earlier that day looking for Harry, Ron, and Hermione to no avail. She searched the dorm rooms but found nothing, and when she finally returned to the common room, the rest of her tired and overwhelmed family had arrived. Mrs. Weasley’s face looked lifeless. Lines where tears had once fallen lay dry as she felt she could cry no more. George had silently taken over a corner of the common room, avoiding everyone consumed in his own misery for his lost twin. Sorrow and joy filled the atmosphere in the Great Hall that night. Ginny had been at a loss for words the entire time, staring blankly and recollecting the events that had occurred: Hagrid came out of the forest, surrounded by Death Eaters. From a distance you could see the tears on the half-giant’s cheeks. In his arms was the limp form of Harry. Ginny held back tears as she thought of the rage that overcame her. ‘How dare he’ she thought.
The previous year had been filled with nothing but rumors. She had no idea where or what the trio were up to, if they were alive and well or if the worst had come. But when she saw Harry after coming through the hidden passage in Aberforth’s bar her first emotion was pure joy. He was alive. However, the building hatred from the previous year came back and overwhelmed her senses. How could he leave her? Didn’t he realize it helped nothing? Malfoy made sure of that. The sun glistened happily, almost taunting the loss of family and friends of the dead as Ginny awoke. She rose and left the common room as quietly as possible, winding her way down the stairs and following the footsteps of the figure who had just left. Ginny followed Harry around the castle, unbeknownst to him. Knowing her Weasley temper would cause a scene she attempted to calm herself before confronting Harry about what had happened. Harry directed his footsteps to the entrance of the castle and soon
the two were both on the grounds. Harry’s pace quickened and Ginny struggled to keep up. Suddenly, Harry stopped in front of the glisteningly white tomb of Dumbledore. Harry bent over the calm body, placing the Elder Wand into the old Headmaster’s hands. He held back tears as he observed the disgrace Dumbledbore had been subject to when Tom broke into the tomb. Suddenly a voice caused him to jerk around, “What are you doing?” A flash of red hair quickly identified the person as Ginny. He seemed to suddenly be at a loss for words. Dirt covered her face. A trail of dried blood ran down her cheek from a cut above her left eyebrow. The Elder Wand, Voldemort’s defeat, the prophecy – could he tell her without her running away in terror? “Ginny? You shouldn’t be out here it isn’t safe – ” he began, taking a step forward, wanting nothing more than to hold her and pretend the war had never occurred, but he was cut
off. “You leave me and the first thing you say is that I shouldn’t be here?!” she shot back. “Fine, I’ll go, but don’t expect me to come around again.” With this she turned and began the trek back to the front doors “Ginny, wait,” he shouted at her and she froze mid-step, whipping around to face him: “You want me to what? Wait?! The great Harry Potter wants me to wait! I have waited for you for the last six years. You ignored my existence for four years and I had waited. You fawned over Cho and I waited. We finally get together last year but you broke it off, and I waited for you to come back. You come back, tell me to stay behind, tell me I shouldn’t fight so I waited. You show up in Hagrid’s arms and are dead to all present and I died then. I had waited for you and you went off to die without saying goodbye. Well, I am done waiting for you. I wish you had been dead in Hagrid’s arms. I hate you – do you hear me? Hate you!,” Ginny yelled. Without a moments hesitation she turned and began
walking back. “Ginny! I’m sorry” Harry cried, biting back the tears threatening to fall. He started to move toward Ginny, but a quick glare from her stopped him in his tracks. He watched her march up to the castle, his heart broken into a million pieces, “I’m so sorry,” he said, just above a whisper. Ginny crossed the threshold of the castle and broke down into tears. She ran into an empty classroom that still had some structure to it and collapsed on the ground. Shaking with fury she attempted to calm herself. She hadn’t intended on blowing up at him, but all of her feelings from the past year seemed to siphon out at him before she could catch herself. ‘At least he knows how I feel now,’ she thought, attempting to create a silver lining out of their ruined reunion. Harry stumbled backwards in shock at the words thrown at him and sat on the ground, leaning his head against the cool marble behind him. He knew she would be upset. Nevertheless, he
thought she had understood why he couldn’t be with her. She had been the force deep inside him pushing him along the seemingly endless path to Voldemort’s defeat all this time, and now she wanted nothing to do with him. Exhaustion once again seemed to take over his body as he worked to hide the tears threatening to leave. Knowing he needed to finish the task of closing Dumbledore’s tomb he stepped away from it. Pointing his Phoenix wand at the cracked lid, he began mending it with reparo, when a noise from behind caused him to turn around. A slur of words caught him by surprise and Harry Potter’s world suddenly went black. A crash which rumbled the castle stirred Ginny from her thoughts. She ran out of the classroom, tears still fresh, wand out. Suddenly the castle entrance blew out and she ducked behind a pile of rubble to dodge oncoming debris. Just as suddenly as the destruction occurred, it ended. Screams could be heard coming from all directions of the
hall. Ginny came out from behind the pile and was met by sun shining through the once sturdy brick wall. Dust still floated in the air, but other than this, there was no sign that anyone had just destroyed the wall – aside from the ruble now littering the floor. “What’s going on!?” A voice screamed from behind her. Professor McGonagall strode up to her, her wand out and eyes scanning the surroundings for an explanation. Others began arriving – Mrs. and Mr. Weasley appeared, followed quickly by her brothers and Hermione, worry written all over their faces. They too had their wands drawn, and all eyes seemed to be on Ginny anticipating an explanation. “I don’t know what happened – there was just a sudden shake and I came to investigate and the wall blew in…” “Where’s Harry?” Hermione broke in – her attempts to hide her fear were moot. Suddenly realization dawned on Ginny. A sinking feeling overcame her as she
cried out in fear. She leapt over the rubble and out onto the grounds. Fear engulfed her as she looked out to Dumbledore’s grave and saw a figure lay collapsed on the ground. She sprinted over to where Harry lay, hoping against everything that her gut was wrong. She could hear yells from her family and those who had now arrived from the Great Hall shouting at her, asking what she was doing. It was Hermione who first pieced it together. She chased after Ginny, and Ron was quick to follow. “Harry!” Ginny cried out through her tears as she neared him. “Harry! Harry?” she knelt next to him, turning him to face her, “No… no, no, No, NO, Harry!!” Ginny’s screams seemed to echo as fresh tears swept down her face onto the lifeless form of Harry Potter. CHAPTER 2 The day of Fred’s funeral had arrived, and the family’s pain and suffering did not fade away throughout the entire ceremony. The family had struggled to stay together throughout the entire
event, but George’s pain outdid the others, and a mere three minutes after the funeral he let them know it: “If you hadn’t been there he would be alive today!” George had shouted, causing attention to be drawn from the leaving guests. “George, please just calm down,” Mrs. Weasley had begged, her tear strewn face leaving her a sight for sore eyes. “No, I won’t. Because this prick decided to get involved Fred is dead!” “You’re right,” Percy said, shocking not only George but the entire family. It was Ron who had first found his voice, “Perce, this isn’t you fault – there was nothing you could have- ” “No Ronald, he’s right. If I hadn’t returned and created a distraction, everyone would have been on their guard, anticipating the next move,” Percy continued steadily, his face remaining emotionless, but his eyes holding all the sadness in the world.
George looked up, a new kind of fire in his eyes, “How dare you. How dare you try and twist this around to receive the family’s pity,” and before anyone knew it George strode over to Percy and struck him to the ground with a solid punch. “Fred is dead because of you, and for that you are dead to me.” George then strode off, avoiding the gazes of his shocked family. Mrs. Weasley had broken down into fresh new tears. She had gotten Percy back, but in the process, had lost one son for good and was about to lose a second. Later that night the family, minus George who had yet to return, and Hermione struggled with the idea of sleeping knowing that the next day was Harry’s funeral. It had been three days since the fateful day at Hogwarts. Hermione gazed at the suffering family and couldn’t help but feel as though she were intruding. Since returning to the battle she hadn’t left Ron’s side save for
sleeping, if it could be called that. Even if she had the ability to sleep without the nightmares of the war creeping up on her she wouldn’t be able to because of Ginny. After realizing Harry was gone Ginny had not spoken a word. She filled her days with silence and nights with sobs of sadness. She attempted to muffle the tears at night to keep Hermione from hearing, but it seemed moot. Hermione observed the first night when Ginny silently cried, her small frame shaking under the covers. After a few minutes they increased in sound and continued through the night until she would cry herself to sleep. She sat back, watching the Weasley’s distress unfold. Finally, Mr. Weasley spoke, “Molly, let’s get some sleep. You need sleep. We all need sleep.” He looked up from his wife to the rest of the room. His pained eyes looked lost. He finally convinced Molly to go to bed and soon Fleur and Bill left to go home as well. Charlie silently left moments later, followed by Percy, leaving only Ginny, Ron, and herself.
The three sat in silence. Hermione’s mind flashed back to three days ago. She and Ron had awoken to find Harry’s bed empty and immediately panicked. They leapt up and rushed down to the common room creating all sorts of ruckus, not realizing Ron’s entire family was there. The noise stirred them all awake and it was discovered that Ginny was not among them. A small sense of relief washed over everyone – they were probably together; however, the fear returned just as quickly when an explosion shook the entirety of Hogwarts. Ron and Hermione took the lead, wands out on instinct. The group made their way down to the main entrance and stopped in shock. Where the solidly built wall to Hogwarts had once stood now lay in tattered pieces on the ground. The dust-filled air made it difficult to decipher the situation. They heard Professor McGonagall’s voice just ahead of them, and when they rounded the corner, saw Ginny leaning against a half shattered wall.
‘They’re safe,’ she thought making her way over to Ginny looking for Harry to come into view, but, he never did. Ginny immediately spilled into an explanation, but the only question running through Hermione’s mind she vocalized, “Where’s Harry?” Hermione stood in anticipation and was filled with dread when she saw Ginny pale almost in realization. Everything else seemed like a blur: they were outside the castle, Ginny was running, a figure lay collapsed on the ground… “No!” she whispered understanding the situation. She fled across the grounds, chasing Ginny down. Footsteps behind her let her know Ron was close behind. The two arrived to the pained shouts of Ginny in protest at what she saw. Hermione faltered in her step as she saw Harry’s motionless body, “Harry…” and tears flooded out. She collapsed next to his body. His eyes stared blankly into the sky. “How…” was all she could muster, leaving the question hanging as the rest of the Weasleys, McGonagall, and
now others from the castle began to cluster around. She felt Ron’s presence next to her and she immediately sought comfort in his shoulder. Hot tears fell onto her neck from him as they sat in disbelief. No one knew how to respond at first. Silence spread across the group surrounding the four-some, and then the tears came. Hermione was startled from her thoughts when a loud noise came crashing from the kitchen. Ron took action, “Stay here,” he commanded, his wand out. Hermione nodded but pulled her wand out as well. Ron disappeared into the kitchen and then another loud noise caused Hermione to jump up. “Damn it George!” Ron hissed, “What’s the bloody matter with you?” Hermione came in to see a struggling Ron attempting to keep a drunken George from collapsing on the ground. “Let me at him!” George growled, “I’ll kill him!” The noise from the kitchen awoke the first two levels of Weasley’s which happened to be Percy and Charlie. They appeared in no time, their wands out in
anticipation as well. Once George caught sight of Percy it seemed to rejuvenate his attempt to move further in the house. “How dare you be in this house you murderer!” George spat, attempting to push Ron out of the way but failed, slipping and ending up on the ground. “I’ll take care of this – you all go to bed,” Percy said quietly. “Perce, we aren’t going to leave you alone with him. We just need to get him to bed,” Ron said in response. “Ronald, I need to do this; Hermione, Ginerva, Charles, please, I’ll take care of it.” “Like hell you will!” George said full of rage, “You planning to kill the other twin as well? Come on take your best shot you bastard!” Giving Percy a warning look that he would be back if things got out of hand, Charlie nodded in agreement, exiting with a silent Ginny and wary
Hermione in tow. Ron was still hesitant at the idea. Granted, he still hadn’t completely forgiven Percy for walking out on the family, he had to give him credit for coming back when it really mattered, and now Percy was literally volunteering himself up as fresh meat. “Fine,” he said, “but just to give you a bit of an upper hand: Petrificus Totalus,” and with that he left. If glares could kill, Percy would have been burnt toast as he levitated the paralyzed George up and exited the kitchen out into the yard. Setting him down gently he lifted the spell and seconds later George stumbled to his feet, patting his pockets for something. “Looking for something?” Percy asked, twirling two wands in his hands. “Go to hell you prick!” George screamed, lunging at his older brother. Percy side-stepped him in an almost casual manner, watching George land on his face. “George, please don’t do
this. You need to understand something, and I want to tell you, and I want to say it to you when you aren’t stiff as a board in the yard. So, if you please stop attacking me this might go easier.” For what it was worth, it was obvious Percy was trying to communicate with the drunken Weasley. The lunging and dodging continued for a few minutes before a panting George succumbed and collapsed on the dew covered lawn. “George, I know Fred’s death affected you deeply, it affected everyone. I can’t imagine the pain you are going through right now – a half of you is gone forever and he can’t be replaced. I’m not here to ask you to forget about what happened, I just want to make sure you understand. I hope that five, ten, thirty years from now you don’t look back on this and regret your actions. Fred is gone George. He died because a dark wizard created mass panic in the world. Fred took action – he wanted to fight; you wanted to fight, and you did.” “Then why am I alive and Fred dead!” George shouted as tears began escaping
his eyes, “What makes me the half that lives?!” "Chance,” Percy stated just above a whisper. “It was chance that took Fred. We all had the same odds going in alive and coming out dead, but regardless of how fate decided to play its hand, we can’t let our grief consume us. I don’t think Fred would have wanted that.” At this George rose, and in a flash he struck Percy under the jaw, “You have no idea what Fred would have wanted!” He glared down in rage at his older brother who was now wiping blood from his lip. He quietly stood up and faced George again. “You’re right. But what would you have wanted Fred to do if you had died?” At this George fell silent, tears glistening in his eyes. His stance seemed to sober up: “I would have wanted him to continue on with life – not dwelling on my death because then me dying would have been worthless. We were all fighting to make a better world – Fred fought to make it better – to allow people the chance to live
without pain and suffering…” Grief consumed George as he broke down, this time instead of pushing Percy away he pulled him close into a tight hug, “I’m so sorry Percy,” he cried, his voice muffled against Percy’s robes. “I just feel so lost. I don’t see how I can ever move on – it feels like half of me was torn away, and I’ll never get it back.” “No one can bring Fred back, but I’ll be damned if the memory of him dies as well.” The two brothers fell silent to this, and George released Percy. Together they silently walked back to the Burrow. Morning arrived early at the Burrow the next morning. Surprisingly, Ron was the first to wake, if you could call what he had “sleep.” After sitting in the kitchen with Charlie until George and Percy started coming the night before, he had solemnly walked to the top landing of the Burrow and into his empty room. Ron had never been a crier. In all his years as the youngest boy he had
learned to hold them back, otherwise it would be another round of teasing from the twins – now twin. When the family returned to the Burrow after the battle Ron walked immediately up to his room, ignoring Hermione and his suffering family below. He slammed his door and sprawled out on his bed and cried. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before there was a knock on the door. He barely acknowledged the noise until he saw Hermione walk through the doorway. She too was in tears: “Ron, this can’t be happening. He can’t rreally be…” At this he bounded off the bed, ignoring his own sorrows and comforted his friend. The remainder of that first day was filled with nothing but tear shed and comforting. A day later Ron awoke looking at the empty place that Harry once used to sleep on a cot during his summers at the Burrow. Flushed with anger he walked over to the piles of old school books and materials and threw them over the empty spot, trying to block out the empty space that had formed in both his room
and heart. The day of the funeral was overcast and the most somber of the entire war. Black cloaks flocked Hogwarts, much like Dumbledore’s funeral; however, it seemed like the entire Wizarding Europe had come for the remembrance of Harry Potter. Every face held a look of sadness; however, a small cluster on attendees held the most grief of them all. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the rest of the Weasley family sat in the front row of the funeral. All of them strained to maintain a stoic face, but to no avail. Mrs. Weasley was the first to break down that morning. It happened over breakfast and there was no stopping from there. A domino affect had been created and soon the entire family was crying or attempting to hold them back. She now sat teary eyed leaning up against Mr. Weasley who was also trying to hold back the tears. For Ron he paid no attention to the speaker. Whatever he had to say did nothing for the pain he felt. He
glanced to his right and found Ginny in tears again. In all his years he had thought of Ginny as a lot of things, but crying was one this that he had no remembrance of. He laid a comforting arm on Ginny’s shoulder – his other arm already around Hermione’s shaking frame. While the ceremony was held at Hogwarts simply for its size, the burial was at Godric’s Hollow. In a flash it was done. The casket was lowered into the ground and the attendees dispersed, leaving only the Weasleys, a few Order members and close classmates including Neville and Luna. Silence fell over the group as they stared at the gravestone: Here lies Harry James Potter The-Boy-Who-Lived The Chosen One Our Savior A Friend
July 31, 1980 to May 2, 1998 The clouds that had been threatening to rain all morning finally released wet droplets from the sky. Ron who had avoided tears up until this point approached the black marble, resting a hand on the cool surface. “I’m gonna miss you mate,” he whispered, finally succumbing to the tears. Hermione was at his side in an instant and placed her hand over his. She attempted to speak, but she choked as more tears came. After everyone had said their final partings, they departed back to the Burrow. There was no planned reception; nevertheless, everyone found themselves back at the place Harry had spent so many summers. Together they mourned, laughed, and drank over the memories of Harry that wet night. CHAPTER 3 One week later…
Terror Not Over Reporter: Kurt Blemish A number of recent attacks on wizards and muggles alike have led to distress around the Wizarding World. The latest of these attacks has been on a town in Muggle London. The site of the attack was on the country-side of Bromley. While local muggle officials have concluded the signs created on the ground are from “extra terrestrials,” Ministry officials have sourced the damage to well controlled dark magic spell called Fiendfyre. After extensive research it was understood that Fiendfyre is a highly difficult spell to create much less manipulate to the creator’s will. However, sources have concluded that the spell was controlled and used to create an image recently associated with this group of outlaws. While He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s Dark Mark held fear to it, this image has a different look: a red snake coiling into a circle. This image has appeared in the sky and has been branded on walls. In addition, the image created
in the field was of the snake. While the world should take this time to rejoice over the defeat of He-WhoMust-Not-Be-Named, a new form of terror has reigned down on the Wizarding populace. Assumed to be led by Death Eater Rodolphus Lestrange and other wanted Death Eaters, this group, while not overseen by the Dark Lord, is still highly dangerous and all precautions should be taken to ensure public safety. Recent reports have connected this group with the death of Harry Potter who died a day after the Battle of Hogwarts where He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was slain. Although no deaths have been reported, it is believed that this new plague of evil is sending a message – beware. Any one with information is urged to come forward and pass the information onto the ministry. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Minister Kingsley tossed the paper on top of his desk and pressed his hands to his tired eyes, attempting to wipe
away the lack of sleep. ‘At least the newspaper is reporting correctly. We can only hope this puts everyone on guard to pick out suspicious behavior.’ The past week at the Ministry had been difficult. The defeat of Voldemort had brought joy to the innocent and fear into the guilty. The Ministry has received a complete makeover, starting with doing background checks on all those employed during the last year. At least eighty percent of the employees were brought up on some charge or let go, leaving a small base to build off of. Those who had been driven away – muggle borns and those against the methods used over the last eleven months – were hesitant at first, but slowly started returning, applying for jobs at the Ministry. The short time span after the final battle, a small crew of remaining aurors had hunted down and arrested remaining Death Eaters. In a quick manner, they were charged and sentenced – evidence was piled so strongly against the majority of them that they pleaded guilty before the actual trial. It seemed that the Ministry of Magic system was beginning to gain the Wizarding World’s trust
back. There hadn’t been time to dwell over the losses of his friends. The death of Tonks had struck him particularly hard. He had been close to her since her first day in the Auror Department. She had successfully knocked over a filing cabinet holding information on the whereabouts of suspected Death Eater before the day had even officially started. She had been rechristened “Clutz” by the department before long. He chuckled as he recalled the day. Her pink hair had subconsciously turned a dark shade of red that day as the entire Auror Department looked up from his or her cubicle and watched the new comer embarrass herself. Over the last year he had also gotten close to Lupin, whom he had contacted and met up with in secret on several occasions to go over possible leads. At one meeting in particular Lupin had discussed his fear of his child carrying the werewolf gene that had handicapped him from any future for so long. Lupin would have been relieved to find that little Teddy, after two full
moons, had shown no signs of the detrimental gene, but instead, held the Metamorphmagus ability from his mother, often changing his hair color to match whoever happened to be holding him at the time. ‘Yes, things certainly are changing,’ Kingsley thought to himself, but began pondering the recent events occurring. Regardless of how much of a relief to the world it was that Voldemort was gone, the new threat put everyone on edge. Only a select few knew of the information surrounding Harry’s death. After he was found on the grounds, every Auror on hand searched the area for the murderers; however, no one was found. They had obviously left the boundaries and apparated away. The link to this new group came when they inspected Harry to decipher the cause of death. On his neck they found the dragon burned into his skin. The funeral was a closed casket so as to avoid questions, but soon enough the truth had slipped out: Harry Potter had been killed by the same perpetrators currently threatening the Wizarding World again.
One week later… ~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~ One week later... New Threat Finds First Dead Reporter: Kurt Blemish After recent attacks, the first victim, a seven year old girl, has been found in a destroyed home in a small town near Godric’s Hollow. The home, much like the other attacks, was obliterated by the Fiendfyre curse. This has been the first encounter of a death among the ferocious attacks. It has been discovered that the home belonged to Sam and Elise Shnyder along with their daughter Anna. The family had been home the eve of the attack. It is still unclear as to how the event unfolded; however, it is known that the family attempted to apparate out of the home. Elise successfully managed to
apparate to her parents’ house. Sam, who was attempting to side-along apparate his daughter failed and she was left behind, splinching himself in the process. He is currently seeking treatment at St. Mungo’s. Both Sam and Elise worked for the Ministry prior to the second war. Sam worked as an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries and had since reapplied for a position in the Magical Law Enforcement branch of the Ministry while Elise vouched to remain home to take care of Anna after holding a position in the Department of Magical Transportation. Elise, who is of muggle decent, went into hiding during the final nine months of the second war. It is not believed that the attack on the house had anything to do with blood decent. The funeral for Anna is planned Saturday, May 30. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* A dark figure threw the article onto a decrepit old table with a smirk. Yes, things definitely are going according to plan, he thought, sweeping from the
dark room into a larger room, still holding the same dungeon, trapped feeling as the smaller room he previously used. The Wizarding World was now on guard, watching closely for any sign of threat – he had made sure of that. Unlike the Dark Lord, he felt no desire to hide his power from the world. It was time they feared continuously. The Daily Prophet was assisting greatly in the new enemy’s campaign to instill fear into every member of the Wizarding populace by keeping up to date tabs on any inkling of an attack. Even when it was not his men performing the savage attacks on buildings and public locations, it was granted a story under the name of the new Dark Lord. “Sir, we have the girl. Would you like us to start or shall we wait for you?” another dark figure asked, entering the room. “So as not to waste time on foolish incompetence, I shall take on the questioning – the sooner we get the information, the faster the
transformation can occur,” the figure spoke. He swept from the room, ignoring the cloaked figure who had provided the information who sped behind to keep up. Torches were the only light guiding the two down the damp corridors, and even then, the sparsity of them almost made it a moot point. Nevertheless, the two figures walked the halls as though neither actually needed them – knowing each corner and direction without any hesitation. They came to a bolted door, guarded by two additional figures. “So good to see we have delegated two individuals guarding such a powerful and dangerous seven year old,” he said sarcastically, ignoring the low bows he received by the two. “Get out of my way,” he stated in a calm, but authoritative voice. He opened the door and at first there was nothing but darkness, but within seconds the light spilled upon a tiny figure covered in a dirt-covered blanket. He swept to the corner, causing the little girl to stir. Her wide eyes were filled with fear as they rest upon the
image in front of her. “Hello Anna,” the figure began with a suppressed grin of enjoyment. “Do you know why you’re here?” It was of course a rhetorical question, but the figure nevertheless waited to see if the little girl was too terrified to respond. She was. The little girl remained silent, looking up at the cloaked figure. A grin spread across the figure’s lips, his eyes glistening with joy in the dark. “Anna, you love your Mommy and Daddy don’t you?” At this Anna paused a moment, but then nodded her head in hearty agreement. “You wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to them would you?” Again, she responded silently, simply shaking her head. “I didn’t think so,” he said in a fake kindness. “Do you know how you can help make sure your parents don’t get hurt? All you need to do is answer a few questions I have for you.” The little girl opened her mouth as if to respond, but nothing came out. “Are you thirsty?” he continued in his caring façade. He conjured up a glass
and then filled it with water. He pulled a vial of clear liquid out of his robes and spoke again, “Anna, this is going to make you feel better,” and he poured it into the cup. He passed her the cup and she hesitantly took it. “Drink it,” he whispered, and she suddenly felt the desire to down the entire drink in one gulp. “Now, tell me, what do you know about your father’s office?” “He keeps it locked – I’m not allowed in it,” she replied robotically, not sure if she was the one saying the words. “But you haven’t stayed out have you?” “No, he left it open a couple of times.” “What did you do inside?” “I just wanted to sit in his chair and pretend I was a grown-up.” “What did you see?” “I saw a folder. It had a list of
memories.” “What kind of memories? Prophecies?” “Yes – that’s the word.” “And what specifically were the memories about?” “People. They were about people, but they hadn’t come true yet, and Daddy was organizing them – there was a pile.” “Did you see the name Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom, or Tom Riddle?” “I-I don’t remember.” “Think!” Windley urged harshly. “I remember… there was a lady – Grace Le-La-Luhstreng?” “Lestrange?” “Yes, Grace Lestrange – it had her name at the top and Harry Potter… he defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named didn’t he?”
At this the figure paused. “No, Potter got lucky and the Dark Lord fell,” he finally replied, “What else did the file say?” The little girl continued on, as if holding a casual conversation with a friend; however, she could not figure out how she was able to reveal information so willingly, “It said something about a new power… I didn’t see all of it. My Daddy came in and told me to get out before I saw any more.” “Thank you,” Windley stated and swept from the room. Upon exiting he told the guards to keep a watch after her – he still might have questions. He then called upon Rabastian Lestrange, Kurt Blemish, and Yaxley. He requested Lestrange to look into his family tree to search for a seer named Grace. He then told Yaxley to send for the Carrows, who had narrowly escaped the castle undetected from the Ravenclaw dorm rooms after the battle, to gather information from Hogwarts the year prior. Finally, he asked Kurt to
continue his job as previously assigned. This could be the lead they were looking for – appropriate actions would be taken immediately and before long, a new power, stronger than that of Lord Voldemort’s would take over… CHAPTER 4 One month later… His stature was imposing. While he was not the tallest among his followers, he held an air that immediately silenced a room upon entering. His voice, while only sometimes carrying the harsh hissing sound of their previous master, Voldemort, was strong and focused. He rarely wavered from his points, remaining concise and keeping most plans to himself – telling of only the necessary details. In a way, he carried himself much like his most loyal follower Rodolphus Lestrange. He and Rabastan had had fled into the Forbidden Forest at the end of the battle. Since the wards were down, apparition was simple and easy to do
while cheers engulfed the Great Hall after the Dark Lord fell. It had been the plan for all the remaining followers to retreat and gather there – unbeknownst to the Dark Lord. Since then Windley had taken the status as the group’s new master. His cunningness kept the survivors alive without the same fear-instilling grasp Voldemort had over his followers. This ultimately made them follow him more readily without the fear of being cursed for the simplest of errors. They now resided in a run-down house hidden in the hills outside of Hogsmeade. This made the location ideal for looking for information at the local Hog’s Head and The Three Broomsticks. As the knowledge of Windley acting as the new leader had not been disclosed to the public, it was simply known that the group was just as stealthy and dangerous as when Voldemort was in charge. He sat in the shadows – rarely exposing his facial features to anyone but a few trusted. His eyes, the most
intimidating feature about him, were sea blue. They easily carried messages of anger without uttering a word. His angular face rarely smiled and was clean of any war injuries. The meeting currently being held was to discuss what was to be done with the girl and when and where the best location was to make the appearance of the New Dark Lord would be. “It will be in Godric’s Hollow,” Windley began calmly. “Well shall create a parameter around the Potter’s old home – it stands as a tribute to the sacrifice made from the first war against the Dark Lord. I feel it will be an ideal location to begin this upcoming onslaught of half-bloods and mudbloods. We leave at sunset – Rudolphus will fill you in on details. I expect no mistakes, or mark my words, there will be a price to pay. I may not have the temper Lord Voldemort had, but believe me when I say I have his rage once I do become irritated. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“I am not going back there, and that’s final!” Ron stated, his fist slamming onto the Kitchen table, rattling the dishware sitting in wait for the coming brunch. “Ron, please, you need to finish your education – you can’t expect to help anyone if you haven’t at least done that,” Mrs. Weasley pleaded for what seemed like the millionth time that week. Over the past month Ron had been adamant against returning to Hogwarts. Hermione had left a week after the funeral to find her parents in Australia and had returned three days later with a frustrated and confused Mr. and Mrs. Granger in tow. Since then she had popped into the Burrow only a few times, but it seemed that those times were the only periods when Ron wasn’t on the verge of hexing something to oblivion. Ginny had continued living in silence, responding only when spoken to. Contrary to his harsh attitude, Ron had taken particular notice in this and
made it a point to give her enough space to avoid crowding her, but stay present enough to be a shoulder to lean on. Their relationship had silently grown over the time home, and they both seemed comforted by the silence of each other’s present company. Today Hermione was supposed to arrive with her parents for a brunch, and Mrs. Weasley had hoped this would put Ron in a good enough mood to reconsider his decision of attending school; however, he seemed more stubborn than a cement wall when the topic was brought up. Moments after the conversation seemed to cease a knock on the door indicated the arrival of the Grangers. “Oh, hello dear,” Mrs. Weasley said, opening the door and pulling Hermione into a motherly hug, “How have you been? You must be Hermione’s parents – so nice to finally meet you. Arthur, Ron, Ginny, please come and welcome the guests!” Mrs. Weasley howled into the house. After the funerals, Bill and Fluer had returned to their home in Shell
Cottage. Charlie was called in by the Ministry to help fix up the castle and remove the dark magic that had been placed on it during the battle. Percy had been asked to rejoin the Ministry by Kingsley; however, he politely declined – finding himself back in his old room and assisting where needed around the house. George, along with the rest of the family, made it a point to avoid Fred’s name. This wasn’t done in hopes of forgetting him; it was just that enough time hadn’t passed for his memory to run freely from the family yet. George had ignored his mother’s requests to stay at the Burrow and moved back into the flat above the Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes shop on Diagon Alley. He had refused to step into the shop, getting to the flat by apparating back and forth. Brunch went without incident. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley swept Hermione’s parents into the den, swapping stories. The Weasleys’ stories held a bit more glamour in them as they involved magic in the majority of the tales, but nevertheless, the two couples were getting along just fine.
Ron, Ginny, and Hermione managed to sneak off before long to Ron’s room. “How is George doing?” Hermione asked. The last time Hermione had spoken to Ginny and Ron, George had moved back into the shop. “He’s doing okay – good actually. I mean, you can tell he hasn’t gotten over it – no one ever will – but he sometimes gets that glazed look in his eyes. You can tell he is thinking about him during those times, but surprisingly, he has confided in Perce a lot more than any of us. Ever since the night of Fred’s funeral, they seem to be somewhat inseparable,” Ron said. “We all know there is no replacing Fred, but having Percy there for George is nice – it gives him someone to bounce ideas off of…” “He still hasn’t worked on any new inventions though,” Ginny piped in, almost in a whisper. She used her voice so little lately that when she did speak it was either incredibly soft or hoarse. Silence spread over the three.
“I sent in an application for the Auror Department,” Ron said after a few moments. “You what?!” Hermione exclaimed. “Oh come off it Hermione – you can’t deny you haven’t known I was going to do it all along,” Ron said in an exasperated tone. “What else would I do? Work at Flourish and Blotts?” Hermione opened her mouth ready to argue against his decision to not finish his schooling but thought better of it. “Have you told your mom yet?” “No,” Ron replied, “I figure when the time’s right it will come out. The Ministry is so low staffed as it is they are accepting practically anyone. I spoke with Kingsley after Har – after the funeral, and he said if I could catch up in the required skills I would be accepted into the program. I won’t be a full-fledged Auror for at least six months after entering anyway.” Silence fell over the group once more. Ever since Harry’s death, the trio had
spent time together; however, not much was ever discussed. Too many details and events brought the topic back to Harry, and the three hadn’t been ready to accept the truth. Ginny surveyed the other two. She had always known Ron was interested in becoming an auror, as much as he denied it in front of the family. It was Harry’s death that set his future into stone. He had argued with Mr. Weasley, Percy, and Charlie late into the night a few weeks ago about the career choice. It was truly the first time she had seen her father full of anger. She understood his position, but ultimately, she took Ron’s side on the issue. Her father had lost two sons in the war and couldn’t stand the thought of Ron falling to the same fate. Although Harry wasn’t related by blood, he had been a member of the family for years. At some point her father had refused to argue with Ron anymore and left for bed. Ginny had come down to find Ron sitting on the couch, his face in his hands. “They can’t just go free,” Ron
said, acknowledging Ginny’s presence but not looking up. “The Ministry is a mess. They can’t start the investigation if they don’t even have people in the departments.” He looked up at her. The moonlight coming from the windows reflected off the fresh tears on his face. “Ginny… they killed him. They killed him, and they’re still out there – rejoicing in their victory while we sit here hoping that somewhere, someday the ones responsible are caught.” That night had made Ginny realize just how much pain Ron felt. It had been tough for everyone, but no one seemed to realize the pain Ron and Hermione were going through. They had gone through the same challenges and success over the years and had survived. What’s more was that they felt guilty moving on. Granted, it had only been just over a month, but they seemed to be hesitant to make themselves happy. “I ran into Neville the other day,” Hermione said, breaking the deadly silence that always seemed to be cast over the three. “You know how he has
been helping Professor Sprout fix the greenhouses – well he was in Diagon Alley to pick up some supplies, and we bumped into each other.” “How is he doing?” Ron asked, glad to be changing the subject. “Good. They found Mrs. Norris. She doesn’t look good – skin and bones he said.” After the battle, both Mrs. Norris and Filch among others had disappeared. Ron and Hermione had been surprised Filch had not been imprisoned by the Ministry since he was, after all, a squib. Ginny informed them that the Carrows had thoroughly enjoyed his knowledge of cruel punishments and kept him around as a reference for new ideas. “Maybe the scumbag was drug off afterward and killed,” Ron replied casually. Silence once again fell over the group – neither Ginny or Hermione attempted to tell him off for his comment. Chatter from bellow could be heard between the Weasleys and Grangers. Mrs. Weasley had been doing surprisingly well – that was until
Ginny found her in Fred’s room going through his things and realized she had been hiding her pain from the family. She had continuously replied that she was fine, but when Mr. Weasley and Ron had both also found her in tears in private they knew better. Instead of openly doing something about it, the three took turns working to keep her mind off the deaths. The silence continued for another length of time before it was broken, this time by Ginny who had spent the last six weeks struggling with Harry’s death: “I told him I hated him.” Her eyes swam with tears as Hermione and Ron looked at her with quizzical stares. “Ginny, what are you talking about? Who is him?” Ron asked, but after a glance to Hermione he understood. The noise from downstairs suddenly increased in volume as more voices blended together in a laughter that seemed to mock the scene in Ron’s room. “I was out there,” she continued, tears falling consistently now. “I was out
there be-before. H-he was trying to apologize, b-but I-I cut him off.” Ron opened his mouth to cut in, but Hermione shook her head. They suddenly heard Mrs. Weasley’s voice bellow from below, “RON! GINNY! HERMIONE! Come say hello to Andromeda and Teddy! They just arrived back from shopping!” The three ignored her, and Ron and Hermione glanced at her again – worry written all over Hermione’s face. Ginny seemed to coil into a smaller shape if possible, tears still flowing freely. “I t-told him I h-h-hated him for leaving me. I said I-I… I had wished he had been dead,” she finally let out. She chanced a glance at the two and saw Hermione’s eyes threatening to spill tears. When she looked at Ron, however, he looked murderous. “Ginny, how could you-” he began but was interrupted by Mrs. Weasley entering the room: “Are you three going to come – ” but her question hung in the air as she came upon the scene. “Is everything all right?” she asked hesitantly.
“Yea, Mum, we’ll be right down,” Ron replied, working to hold back the strain in his voice. Mrs. Weasley gave one final hesitant glance at the trio before turning and leaving. Silence was held until Mrs. Weasley’s steps were no longer within hearing distance. Ron was the first to speak, “Ginny… Harry was like a brother to me. To hear you say that the last words he heard on this earth was that you hated him…it tears me up -” “I think what Ron is trying to say -” “Hermione,” Ron cut in, glaring hard at her, “I can speak for myself – I have a right to speak for myself.” His face grew red with anger as he continued, looking at Ginny’s fragile figure – when did she become so small? he suddenly wondered but continued, “I have spent the last month hoping that his last moments were at least peaceful, but now I know that they weren’t – that you stole the happiness from him.” “Ronald, I think -”
“But I also know that it wasn’t your fault,” he continued, ignoring Hermione’s attempts to jump in. He watched as Ginny’s eyes filled with more tears, his anger slowly dying away, “You had no idea. No one knew – if we had we would have been by his side in a minute to fight. If you had the chance, I know you would have taken it back – there are so many things I would have said, but we can’t. What’s done is done.” At this Ron paused, as if contemplating his next move in a chess game. “No one can begrudge you for speaking your mind to Harry- I know I don’t. No one can reverse his death, but I’ll be damned if I sit here and do nothing about it. I have spent the last month remembering every ounce of memories I had with Harry, wishing he never died, afraid he may fade from my memory, but I know he won’t. He is so engrained in my past, that my future, willing or not, will be influenced by him. That is what we need to hold on to, to move on with our lives. No one blames you for your actions, Gin.” As he finished both Hermione and Ginny were in tears. In one motion, Ron was
on the other side of the room, hugging Ginny tightly, as if hoping to absorb the despair she was feeling. As Hermione watched the two siblings she couldn’t help but sit in shock at Ron’s comments. She had completely expected the opposite reaction, but his response had been so mature – so thought out, when had Ron grown so much? CHAPTER 5 That night, the Weasley’s found themselves surrounding the dinner table, awaiting Arthur to return home from work. They had grown accustomed to holding dinner until Mr. Weasley was home mostly for Mrs. Weasley’s benefit that anyone else. It made her happier knowing the family was safe and together at the day’s end and were all able to make it to the meal. A silence had fallen over Ron, Hermione, and Ginny after the conversation earlier that afternoon; it wasn’t an angry silence, simply a silent agreement to avoid the topic and
anything that might connect to the idea. Hermione’s parents had left shortly after the arrival of Andromeda, but Hermione stayed behind, telling them she would be home later that evening. The visit with Teddy and Andromeda went without incident, and, much to Mrs. Weasley’s discouragement, Andromeda left before dinner was served. So now sat Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Ginny, Hermione, Percy, and George sat at the table, food beginning to chill and the clock chiming seven. Mrs. Weasley’s eyes darted from the clock to Mr. Weasley’s hand on the untraditional Weasley clock: At Work. At that moment it began to shift: Traveling. Mrs. Weasley stood up in anticipation of Mr. Weasley’s arrival, but he made it to the door first – his eyes wide with anger and he was panting. “Dad? What is it?” Ron asked, getting up from his seat. “There’s been another attack.” A series of incoherent shouts filled
the air in response, but they were quickly silenced when Mrs. Weasley glared at them. “It was at Godric’s Hollow – the Potter Family’s old home. It was completely destroyed; there is nothing left of it.” “Is anyone hurt?” Mrs. Weasley asked. “No, but they think the group of Death Eaters that escaped after the battle are to blame – sending a message we believe. I’ve just come back to grab a bite to eat and then I am off to the site,” he continued, picking up a slice of bread and applying a hefty layer of butter, “Kingsley is livid – there are three eyewitnesses who are currently in questioning.” “Dad I want to come with you.” “No, Ron – we have had this discussion – I agreed to your choice about Hogwarts, but that does not mean you are free to do what you wish. I’ll be back as soon as I can Molly, dear,” he finished, grabbing up another piece of bread and pecking Mrs. Weasley on the cheek before exiting.
“Just be careful – it’s still dangerous out there.” Silence filled the room after Mr. Weasley’s exit. The screen door allowed the outside noises to trickle in; however, the table remained still until Ron spoke. “They destroyed Harry’s home.” His face was red with anger. Hermione looked up at him – her eyes already brimming with tears. “How can anyone be so heartless as to destroy a home that was already half collapsed?! When I get my hands on the bloody group responsible for this – I’ll kill them.” “Ronald! I understand that you are upset – we all are – but I will not have you going around speaking like this! You would be no better than they are – going around and harming individuals. I don’t care what they have done, it is no excuse to go blindly mad and start looking for danger!” “I guess this isn’t the greatest time to tell you that I have applied for a
position in the Auror Department at the Ministry then is it?” Ron shot back – a little harsher than he had originally intended. “You… you what?” Mrs. Weasley responded, her face growing more and more flustered by the second. Everyone around simply stared at the argument mounting before them. “You heard me. You can tell me all you want that you want me to finish my schooling, you want me to do something that doesn’t involve danger – well guess what mum, we live in a world where danger is sitting around every corner! I am not going to standby and let it take over again – I am doing something about it, and I’ll be damned if you or anyone else gets in my way!” “Now you listen to me Ronald Weasley, I did not raise you to speak like that and I sure am not about to walk willy nilly into a profession such as that. I can assure you Kingsley will agree with me on that point – you are too young and you have yet to finish your schooling!”
“I’ve already spoken to Kingsley and it is being arranged. I am not sitting here asking for your blessing – I am doing this and you are not about to stand in my way. Whether you support me or not does not change this!” ~*~*~*~*~ The attack had gone without incident. The group had arrived unnoticed to the little neighborhood and appeared when the time was ready. Two witnesses had been caught during the attack and were confunded to give appropriate information regarding the event as Windley saw fit. The third witness was left free to view the entire attack unfold, thus creating an unclear description of the evening. Windley, now sitting alone in a set of dungeons, sat in anticipation, imagining the headlines in tomorrow’s papers: “Potter Legacy Destroyed!” “Potter Memorial in Shatters.” Although he new the raid was a success, he was not thrilled. Before the attack,
something had occurred. As they passed through the quiet little town, darkness fell, cloaking them from unwanted attention. Windley’s group walked through the center of town where they would meet up with the others. He stopped in front of the Potter Family Statue – his eyes filled with disgust. His mind was suddenly filled with the image of fighting a wizard – Voldemort. The setting was at Hogwarts in the Great Hall. Unsure of what was happening, Windley looked around and saw the faces of dirtied and injured wizards and witches. This is the final battle, he immediately thought. Just as quickly as it came, the vision faded. After returning from the attack, he sent Blemish out to research wandlore. He knew memories were often passed on in a wand from one owner to the next; however, he wanted definitive answers. His His the his age thoughts drifted to the Potter boy. followers had filled him in on all details of his companions during years at Hogwarts. Most were his and would not be returning for the
following school year; however, the Carrows had informed him of a group of rebels from the previous year. In charge of the crew had been the Longbottom boy and the Weasley’s youngest. As Longbottom would not be returning, their next target of interest would be the Weasley. In time the blood traitors would kneel to a new order… ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ That night, Ginny sat alone in her room retracing the stages of the argument from dinner. Ron had stormed out of the kitchen and up to his room. Ginny glanced between her mother and Hermione. Mrs. Weasley looked as though she had been informed You-Know-Who was back, and Hermione looked pale and unable to decide whether to go upstairs and reason with Ron or dart for the door. Moments later pounding noises from the steps revealed Ron carrying a knapsack and wearing a jacket. “And just what do you think you are doing?” Mrs. Weasley
cried out, regaining her composure as Ron aimed for the door. He tossed a piece of parchment in her direction, “This was waiting for me upstairs – I’ll see you in two months,” and with that he walked out of the Burrow, leaving the three of them lost for words. Ron had been ten feet out the door when Hermione shot up from the table and chased after him. “Ron. Ron, wait!” Ron stopped and turned, his face red with anger, “What?” "Ron, please – what’s going on.” “I just received my letter of confirmation – I start training in a month. In the mean time, I am scheduled to take my N.E.W.T.S. over the next couple of weeks,” he stated, avoiding her gaze. “Ron – I don’t want you to go,” Hermione began, “I only just got my parents back, and George still needs you and Harry – ” “Harry’s gone Hermione,” Ron shouted.
“He’s gone, and it hurts. Every time I pass someone on the street, I wonder why his sorry arse was saved and Harry, who gave up everything for a normal life wasn’t. I wonder why I was saved. Doing this is the only thing that makes sense to me right now – why can’t you understand this?!” “I do! I understand you want to avenge Harry’s death! You aren’t the only one who lost a friend that day. I’m hurting, too. Do you think it is easy to walk around every day knowing a part of me will never be whole again because Harry is gone? Damn it Ron, stop being so selfish and look at everyone around you. We are all hurting!” Silence fell between the two – Hermione’s eyes glistening with unfallen tears and Ron looking anywhere but at Hermione. “Ron, look at me,” she said, stepping closer. He continued to avoid her gaze, looking only at his shoes. “Ron, don’t do this – don’t shut me out. I care about you too much for you to just walk out on me,” she continued, raising her hand to his cheek. She lifted his head, his eyes
turning to look at hers. They were filled with anguish and tears. Finally, Ron dropped his sack and his arms found their way around Hermione. They stood still, simply holding each other in the darkness. “I just miss him so much,” Ron cried, his voice muffled through Hermione’s shoulder. Hermione acknowledge the statement by pulling him tighter still. “I know” I do, too.
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