Life After Death

Am I still standing in the barren grounds where Hogsmeade once stood? Are all those who came forth truly pure of heart and mean right when wrong has being done? I'm no longer sure of what is right and what is wrong. How can I think that what I had done was right, when killing is wrong? Will life ever return to normal? To the way they once were? That is a question that will forever linger in my mind. Even as I fade away from this world and know that I will be at peace knowing that the Wizarding Community is safe. But are they really truly safe from Voldemort? I had once believed so, but tonight the Dark Lord could very well have proved me wrong. I can still hear his words ring out in my ears; I can see him slouch to the ground in defeat. I can even see the blank, distant look in his crimson red eyes. And yet here I remain, staring at the carnage of this last battle, and I can't think to pull myself away from it.

How did I so bravely stand up against Voldemort? How did I manage to survive (yet again) when so many others have fallen? What is so special about me? Is there something that someone has neglected to tell me? I would beg for the answers if only those who could put my mind at ease were still among the living. Tonight many have suffered in their blood for there to be peace. Why must it always be this way? Why must we always take life to live in freedom? Away from oppression and fear. Is there nothing we could have done to stop this from happening yet again? We are wizards are we not? We pride ourselves on the ability to do magic, which in itself is a feat that many Muggles might desire.

Dumbledore once told me that it was the choices that made up different from each other. That made me different from Tom Riddle, yet as I stand here, his body at my feet, I am unsure of any difference at all. We have both killed, we both have power that many may desire, we both had fame that made others jealous, so what kept me from his side? It could not have been Ron, for he was jealous of me at many times in our school years. It could not have been Hermione, she may never have allowed it, but in the end, it was not her decision. Did I truly choose where I was going in life back when I asked the Sorting Hat to place me in Gryffindor? Was my fate sealed that very day? Or could I have had the chance to live a semi normal life had I asked to be placed in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw?

My mind is filled with noise, endless noise. Chatter of the dead, screaming of their souls as they fell to the ground. Lord in heaven about please help me! Make their words stop. Make their pleas for help end. There is nothing more I can do to end their torment. I have done everything I can, and more. I cannot give anymore to this battle that is no longer mine to fight. Grant me peace as you have so many others. I am no warrior. I am just a young adult, hoping, no praying to the divine to aid me in any way they can. If you so much as desire it, I will beg on my knees for this life to end and I might sleep eternally in your keeping.

Fatigue takes over, and I know I am lying on the ground. I can no longer feel the chill in the evening air. I can no longer feel the pain from strain; nor can I hold my own body weight. I cannot tell how long the battle had been going on, or even when it truly began. All I know really is when it ended. I had known it from the beginning. If he survived, I would be dead and it would not have ended. If it were not that case then I would be the one standing victorious and he would be the one defeated; which is the case for us.

I wonder now, as I drift in and out of sleep, what will come now that peace has been restored. Will life go on as it had before? With the seemingly forgotten past that I wish did not repeat itself. Or will our lives fall to our tedious cycle of forgetting what should not be forgotten and thus repeating the same path that has been taken so many times before? For that I am not sure if life truly does move on after such horrific death. After so many people have sacrificed their lives for peace. Yet we do not learn from our mistakes only sur come to them and allow it to happen once again.

I can no longer hold out from the beauty of sleep. I must rest now if the tormented souls permit it. There is a wondrous light glimmering in the distance, I have not the clue of what it is, or why it shines so brightly, but it does give off a great warmth. I hope to sleep well this night, for I have not in many months since the death of Sirius....