Merely A Beginning

Merely A Beginning

It's incredible, you know.

The full realization of what has just happened has suddenly struck me. The war is over. Four years of pain and sorrow, blood and tears, struggle and toil have just come to an end. And the final battle that decided the victor of those four years took less than an hour. I'm looking around me, just trying to comprehend that concept. The war is over. It's over. It's...finally over.

The dawn breaks over the horizon. The date is January 25^th, a day that will go down in the history books as the day that Voldemort was finally defeated and the wizarding world freed from his terrifying clutches. And I, Ginny Weasley, was there to see it all.

How fitting, that the battle took place at Godric's Hollow, Harry's childhood home, where Voldemort was temporarily defeated two decades ago. How fitting, that Harry was present at the last struggle between good and evil. How fitting, that at the end, the entire wizarding world finally united under a common flag to crush the army of evil that threatened to destroy us all.

Snow blankets the ground. It is, after all, the middle of winter, and the air is still relatively cold. You'd think it was just another winter day, but for the slow seep of bright red blood that is slowly soaking into the snow and eventually, into the earth. So many lie dead here, so many that will leave no legacy to be recorded in those history books. So many common people, with no name and no past, who will be denied the title of "Hero".

I walk among the bodies, ignoring the scurrying Mediwizards who are trying fervently to save the few who are merely wounded. Seamus Finnigan, his usually smiling face lacking any emotion. Neville Longbottom, who took a Killing Curse that had been meant for a young girl. He died, and then his attacker killed her, too. Their bodies lay side by side, so still, so helpless. Padma Patil, Millicent Bulstrode, Hannah Abbott, Terry Boot, Dean Thomas. The names of the dead run through my head as tears threaten to spill from my eyes yet again.

And then, I'm there, right next to the old oak. At the base are laid out four bodies, each of them battered and bruised, cut and mangled. My brothers, Bill, Charlie, George and Ron. I would cry, but at this point, the tears have left me. Fred is knelt by George's body, still shaking. They were always so close, and I know Fred won't ever really get over this.

"Gin?" Fred's looking at me with his eyes glazed over. He's lost. He has no idea what to do, now that his other half is gone. He just wants to be comforted, so I take him in my arms and let him cry.

"It's all right, Freddie. Just let it out, let it all out," I croon as his body shudders and he wails in grief. As his cries slowly die down, I realize that he is still shaking. "Fred, go to the Mediwizards. You're about to fall over."

He stares at me frantically. "I can't leave George! What if something happens to him?" He kneels down again, taking the lifeless body into his arms. His voice becomes panicked. "I can't leave him alone again...what if he gets lonely, what if he wakes up and no one's there? I can't leave him! I can't! I can't! I CAN'T!"

"Fred, I'll stay with him." Blaise Zabini, once an enemy, now an ally, kneels beside Fred and slowly transfers George's body to his arms. "Fred, you go. I'll make sure he's alright."

Fred nods mutely before stumbling off to find the Healers. Blaise sighs as he looks down at George's still face. I watch as a tear slips down his cheek, and he wipes it away quickly. I leave him alone.

I reach a small hill. There is no snow here; a barrage of curses and charms have melted or blasted it away, leaving a bare patch of ground. Here lie two bodies; one is our greatest hero, one is our greatest betrayer.

Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. Harry's tousled black hair lies knotted around his head, his face cut and bruised, lying spread eagle with his face frozen in an expression of pain and anguish. Draco, on the other hand, looks like a fallen angel, his long blonde hair forming a glowing halo, while his expression is peaceful and calm. A slight smile touches his lips as the wind flutters the fabric of his robe. What a picture the two of them made, so different.

Harry will, of course, go down in history as the final defeater of Voldemort. Draco will go down in infamy as the murderer of Harry Potter. But I know better; I know the truth.

I had always wondered why it was that Draco, the evil one, looked like an angel, while Harry, who represented all that was good, bore such a startling resemblance to the Dark Lord. Why Draco, although cruel, sardonic, and scornful, would comfort a small first-year that he had provoked to tears. Why Harry was given to wild temperaments and lasting periods of depression, similar to Voldemort himself. But the wizarding world ignored these oddities; Malfoy was synonymous with evil, while Potter was the epitome of good.

Still, as I watched the final moments of the war on that cold, winter day, I witnessed an amazing event. Harry and Voldemort engaged in furious combat, while Draco crept in from behind. Voldemort uttered the Killing Curse, sending a bolt of green lightning towards Harry. He didn't even try to resist. He just smiled. A flash of green light, and Harry lay dead on the snow.

Voldemort's high piercing laugh rose to the sky, as his victory seemed in reach. Then suddenly, the manic laughter stopped. Another Killing Curse had been sent, but this time hitting Voldemort square in the back. He fell forward, revealing his killer; Draco Malfoy. A Malfoy had saved us all.

And no one knows it, no one but me. The only other witnesses, Voldemort and Harry, are gone. Draco won us the battle, and then he was killed by an elementary spell cast by my brother, Percy. My stupid, rash, intolerant brother murdered the only true hero of the war.

Such a waste. So much destruction of lives that were just beginning, so much shedding of innocent blood. I look around the battlefield, and I wonder why I am alive, when so many are dead. Why am I still here, when my brothers, my friends, my allies, lie frozen on the snow? An angry tear slips down my face and splashes on Draco's cheek. For a moment, it looks as if he's crying with me, but a shake of my head and the illusion is gone.

Blaise comes up behind me. "Fred will be fine. The Mediwizards took care of him and then sent him back to George."

I nod. He hesitates then looks down at the body of his best friend. "So, the war is over."

"You know why it's over, don't you?"

Our eyes meet. He takes off his jacket and lays it over Draco. "Yes, I know." We fall quiet, a silent tribute to our savior, Draco Malfoy.

Blaise speaks again, this time smiling weakly. "At least we won, right? Evil is conquered."

"Evil conquered? No, evil will never be conquered, not while we still hate and blame and accuse each other." I laugh at the idea that evil could ever fully be gone. Suddenly, the realization comes to me. "But...it is the job of the living to continue the work of the dead. So many died to save us from this particular evil. Now it is our job to continue to fight, to continue to vanquish the seeds of pain and sorrow that will spring up."

He looks at me for a moment, then down at Draco, then back to me. He slowly reaches out to me; I grasp his hand as we seal our bond of friendship. "I asked myself earlier why I was alive when others had died, what I had to offer that got me through this. Now I know."

Together, we stood, on the greatest battlefield of the war. To us, the day was not a day of rejoicing, but a day of dedication, to the millions of lives lost, and to the millions of people who would carry on.

The war is ended, but it is not really the end. It is merely a beginning.