The loud piercing cry of Lord Voldemort filled the night sky and echoed through the grounds of Hogwarts. For a split second everyone paused to acknowledge the scream, the sign that decided the fate of the world. For that spilt second, people let out a sigh, a sigh of relief that it had been decided, it had ended.
Then, everyone started to scream, for victory and for defeat all but one, one screamed for the pain souring through her body, her voice drowned out by the many others. Her frame stood in the middle of the crowd, the crowd of screaming fighters as she took the moment to look at her wrist, the source of her pain. It was bleeding, her blood dripped from the wound, from the faint outline she could vaguely make out a crescent moon shaped carved into her skin. A burning sensation washed over her as she tried to stop the bleeding with her wand, with her non wand hand, to stop the pain, but it was too strong. It increased, multiplied as she shrieked into the noise around her, piercing no one with her plea.
With her last breath she gave in into the pain, into the darkness edging into her vision and let her body loosen to welcome it. She let her body fall to the ground, her head landing on her outstretched hand as her last attempt for help. Slowly her eyes closed, letting the darkness wash over her with a smile, at least the war was won, and peace would follow. It was her goal and that was all that mattered.
The final moments of the war was left, the Death Eaters started to flee upon the knowledge of Lord Voldemort’s fall. All too quickly, the final battle was completely over, the Light had won and brought peace to the wizarding world.
Harry Potter, the victor of the War, the One who rid the world of the Darkest Wizard of all times stood near a hill, where he had battled Lord Voldemort turned to look at the still standing warriors who fought along his side, looking for the faces of his best friends and loved ones. His eyes met familiar bright blue orbs gave him a smile and congratulations, but he couldn’t find the honey brown pair he had known for so long.
The task left for the Order of the Phoenix was now to collect the injured and fallen members who gave their life for the cause. The tears started to pour as each fallen member was carried back to the castle. The body of a petite girl with bushy brown hair was found laying limp among the others looking peaceful and deathly pale.
The sight of her unmoving form destroyed the strong front a certain redhead tried to put up, he kneeled beside her and wrap his arms around her cooling body and let his tears fall freely embracing the pain he felt for the loss of his Love.
It was dark and I had a major head ach, its throbbing and the worse hangover I’ve ever had. My head was sore, it was aching. I lay for a while waiting for the memories of the previous night to flood back, like every morning of my life. That’s how I start day, every day and today shouldn’t be an exception.
Slowly the images of the Final Battle came to my mind, the struggle to stay alive and dodge the spells. I had lots of narrow misses, my life spared by inches. It was like I had expected the war to be, hectic and just downright scary, every moment was a fight for your life and you had to be alert in every moment of every second.
I remember coming face to face with Malfoy, his mask had come off during it all and I saw his face, scared and bleeding. And for the brief encounter I pitied him as I saw the fear in his eyes and face and it was genuine, more so than I had ever seen. The expression he held told me he didn’t want to fight this war, not because he was afraid of death and a coward, but because he was on the wrong side. In the instant that our eyes met, I felt warmth and assurance that it would end out ok. In that instant he made the decision to save my life and take a spell for me. He stood in front of me, blocking the green light shooting towards me letting his limp body land in my arms. His form pulled me to the ground and I caught his face wearing a faint smile, a smile that showed he had died for a good cause and he had forever earned my respect and I will always be in his debt. I will make sure he is remembered as one of the good guys, a man who was brave enough to betray Voldemort and see the light.
I remember seeing Ron fighting with Bellatrix cursing her as she advanced on Ginny, only to be pushed out of the way by a screaming Mrs Weasley who was redder than her hair. I couldn’t hear what she was saying but she was angry and her words must have been lined with venom. After a short exchange of spells, I saw Mrs Weasley fire the deathly green light from her wand, something I never thought would happen, she was too kind to kill, even if it was someone as evil as Bellatrix. War changes people, and it was the ugly truth of the world. Her expression was fierce, lined with murderous intentions and it scared me, she wasn’t the Mrs Weasley that I knew, she as murderer.
But so was I, I was murderer, I must of killed many that day. I must have, there was no way I wouldn’t have, it was a war and killing was inevitable. It’s stupid but the thought never truly penetrated my mind until the memory and seeing the look on Mrs Weasley’s face. The dramatic change, how it could change a woman so kind and gentle. War was horrific and I knew this, I knew people would die and I knew that people kill in wars; I guess I was just being naive.
I let some more thoughts float into my mind, relive them in my head, most where narrow escapes of the curses and running around, until the final and most important memory came into my head. The one where I heard him scream, it echoed over my head. It was the signal that we had all been waiting for, the symbol that justified all the deaths lying on the muddy terrain. It was the sound of Voldemort’s defeat and Harry’s Victory, the sound of peace being restored to the world.
But the memory was fuzzy, confused by a pain that I had felt during it. I remembered the pain was in my arm, I tried to reach for my arm but my body wouldn’t let me, I was frozen in the spot. It reminded me that my arm was hurting more so than the rest of my body. It was the centre of the pain and numbness I was feeling. I remembered I looked down at it during the war but I couldn’t picture what I saw when I looked, it was a blank memory.
The rest was a blur, filled by everyone running around, I heard them, they were screaming for the victory, for Harry’s victory, for ours. The screaming and crying lasted a while then there were muffled sounds of sobbing, they realised the deaths that it took for it, honouring them for giving their lives. I remember it; I remember hearing them talk about celebrating the victory, celebrating for the lives that had been saved, for the lives that had been lost. It was a celebration for everything.
I couldn’t remember the events of the actual celebration, all I knew was that it was long really long because after a while I remembered hearing the voices of drunk people. And one voice that stood out of them all was Ron’s.
I heard him talking about losing someone, he never mentioned a name, but it was someone close and I couldn’t remember seeing anyone lying in his arms as he cried for the lose. In fact I can’t remember seeing anyone after the battle, I can’t remember who survived or who had been lost.
I raked my brains for the memories, they must be there, if I can lay here thinking of the events I must have been there to witness them. The more I thought about it the more it scared me, was I dead?
But I couldn’t be dead, I can feel the air about me, I could tell my body was solid, I was definitely in my body and not a soul or ghost floating about. But I couldn’t move my body, I couldn’t open my eyes, I was completely paralysed, but I could hear a faint movement around me, a slight vibration through the hard surface I was laying on.
I tried to channel all my concentration on moving, determined to let the feeling and movement come back to me, but it was useless, my body didn’t want to respond. After a few hours of concentration, my head felt it was about to explode until I felt my finger twitch slightly. I tried to smile but my face was frozen in its place holding a neutral expression.
The feeling came faintly, and I could tell that I was lying on my back facing up with my hands connected on my stomach, and my feet placed beside each other, pointing up. I was placed like this, I’m never in that position, not even in my sleep, someone had made me lay in that position and the only time I’ve seen someone like that was...was...in a.....a... coffin?
A/N: so yeah. this has been written and sitting on my computer for a while, and i finally got more plot bunnies ^_^ please tell me how i did, any c/c is welcome and very much appreciated.disclaimer: i do not own or have anything to do with the Harry Potter Franchise, other than being a squeely fangirl. if i did then dramione would be canon, and evidently erm...its not.