Chapter 1 : Statues of Us
| ||Rating: 12+||Chapter Reviews: 15|
Background: Font color:
The gray cemetery was filled with hundreds of people waving coffins solemnly into holes in the ground. Families' eyes clouded with tears as their wands shook uncontrollably, creating the crude gravestones for their loved ones. They didn’t want to witness their loved ones being buried under the barren ground, gone from their reach for the rest of eternity.
Harry Potter fingered his wand apprehensively as Colin Creevey was being returned to rest. His mother was trying very hard to keep herself dry-eyed, but when it was time for Colin’s beloved camera to be buried with him, she couldn’t help but burst out into wracking sobs.
Harry sludged his way forward to where Mrs. Creevey was on her knees, cradling Colin’s old camera. He put a reassuring hand on her trembling shoulder. “Mrs. Creevey...”
“I’m--” she gasped painfully, wrapping her arms around her chest. “I’m fine. Absolutely fine. I’m so sorry. It’s just--it’s just the memories, they just flooded through my mind and--”
“It’s alright, Mrs. Creevey,” Harry murmured softly, gently tugging the camera away from her limp grasp. He watched as her husband grimly picked up the treasured object and placed it on top of Colin’s chocolate brown coffin.
Wordlessly, the Creeveys and Harry both stared as the hole around the coffin began to close. Harry’s vision started to blur as memories of Colin flooded Harry’s mind, his voice saying, “All right, Harry?” At the time, Harry had been greatly annoyed at Colin’s presence, but now he could fully appreciate the spirit and character Colin had. No one Harry knew during the war stayed as optimistic as Colin was, who was filled with as much happiness despite the horrors in the world around them.
It was too pathetic that Harry could only wonder through these thoughts after Colin was truly gone.
It was even worse that the same went for every single hero he had failed to save.
The night after the burial process of all the brave fighters was over, Harry was found staring at the various tombstones dotting the now empty graveyard. He saw what looked like a picture gone through a black and white roll of film, devoid of colors, of life itself.
The memory of the night he had at the Godric’s Hollow cemetery for the first time came rushing back to him. He remembered shining his wand on his parents’ graves for the first time, feeling that overwhelming connection with them as he stood in front of them with Hermione. It was proof that they had existed, that they really had died for him. However, the most distinct part of the memory to him at that time was when he discovered the monument to him and his family as he stood in Godric Hollow’s square. The notes of encouragement signed by various magical folk telling him to keep going, to not give up, that they were all rooting for him - that was what moved him the most.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful if there was a monument right there in the center of this barren cemetery? It would honor the battle and the fighters who died for its cause. The families of those who passed away would feel encouragement from many different fellow witches and wizards from all over the world who came to visit this hallowed ground. They would feel the same gratitude that Harry did, the same hope. For once, there would be words of encouragement not for Harry Potter, but for them.
Pondering this thought, he walked out of the cemetery, wondering what he could do.
This monument was definitely not the one Harry had been imagining.
A cloud of disgust hung in the air around him as he gaped in shock at this monstrous block of stone before him.
When Harry had made a request for a monument to the war to be created in the cemetery, he had certainly not been imagining a statue of him to be made. A statue of him almost larger than life itself had definitely not been on his agenda. A statue of him larger than life itself in the process of defeating Voldemort was completely not what he had in mind for this monument.
There was absolutely no mention of the fighters who had passed away, not to mention the ones who were still alive and had survived the battle. The fighters were the ones that put up the largest fight. They were the ones who put themselves up first to protect everyone else, to ensure everyone else’s safety. That was heroism beyond belief. And Harry? During the battle, he was running around under an invisibility cloak, hiding from everyone else as duels raged around him, people falling left and right.
How did Harry deserve this repulsive monument? Sure, he is dubbed the “Boy who Lived” and the “Chosen One.” However, he’s just the poster child for the war. If Harry had a choice he’d rip down all those posters and put up pictures of all the others who fought more valiantly than he did. Remus, Tonks, Moody, Fred, Dobby, Colin among others. Harry couldn’t believe that this was the end result of his one and only grand appeal to the world in return for him, in the world’s terms, “doing the impossible.”
Brandishing his wand frustratedly, Harry shrunk the statue until it could fit into the palm of his hand. He pocketed it for a later trip to the river where he would hopefully never see it again. Meanwhile, he turned to the graves next to him.
The gravestones around him began to grow taller and swelled in size until they were almost five feet tall instead of the measly one foot height they had started out with.
“Now let’s see who’s almost larger than life,” Harry muttered to himself satisfactorily as he surveyed his handiwork.
Slowly, he lifted the camera from around his neck and placed it on Colin Creevey’s gravestone. “This is for you,” Harry called out to the empty cemetery.
The flash blinked brightly through the darkness as Harry waved at the camera. And at the bottom of the picture, he scrawled a note for whoever happened to come upon the cemetery next.
“These are the statues of us.”
A/N: This was inspired by Regina Spektor's lovely song, "Us." And this is also my first serious one-shot that I've ever written and I'm anxious to see how it turned out! Please review and let me know what you think. You know I love eating them. :D Should I stick to writing funny, humor-filled one-shots?
edit (11.20.10) - I realized after several reviews that there was so much more to say so I finally got around to it and added much more detail and everything. Hope you enjoyed this!
Other Similar Stories
by Violet Gr...
I Hate This Part