Sweet Silence

Silence.

Deadly thick silence. No sound, no breeze; the air hangs heavily around the fallen, around the survivors. I've never felt anything quite like this before. Knees buckling, heart pounding, sweat dripping, silence. Slowly, ever so slowly, that fear, that adrenaline, the panic and worry, just fades away into absolute bliss and serenity. Something I have been waiting for, for what feels like a lifetime.

Watching.

That is all I'm doing now. Watching these people wander around, uncertain of what to do now, what to do next, where to go, how to keep going. I see their tears slip down their cheeks, smearing the dirt and blood.

I have done a lot of things in my life that I may not be very proud of, a lot of things that have killed a lot people and saved a lot of people. I don't feel ashamed. I don't feel proud.

I feel...

... empty. Empty like the air feels now. It hangs so still, so perfect, like the Earth is waiting to exhale, waiting for something to happen. But what more can happen now? He's gone. Voldemort is gone and we are still here. What could there possibly be worth waiting for?

I haven't felt anything since the morning began and the final act of war was set in motion. I was called out to the battlefield, called out to my prossible death. There I stood empty of emotion and I knew that this is where I had to be. This fight was my test.

So, I fought the good fight. I did what I had to do without wavering from my path. I simply walked along with a conviction I've never quite felt before. It was something strong, something that could not be ignored. Like this silence, this ever painful silence. I have wanted an end to the screams of terror, the pleas for help. And now that I have it, I'm not sure what to make of it. So I watch, and wait, and wonder what the world will do with all this suffering, with this aftermath of death and destruction while I sit in the quiet.

Someone stands before me now. Asking me questions I'm sure, but I cannot hear them. I cannot make sense of their moving lips. They must think I am daft to just be sitting here with I'm sure a blank look on my face while they try to draw answers from me. I cannot recognize the face of this person who speaks to me. But they must be someone who cares.

Right?

Why else would they be talking to me?

They lift me up with what is obviously Wingardium Leviosa and carry me off somewhere. Where? I don't care. I am happy where I am. I don't want this feeling to pass. This silence blankets me from the screams I'm sure that ring in the field of dead. But the silence is fading. I can hear the ringing in my ears and know that soon this blanket of mine will be pulled from over my head and I will be suffering with the rest of them.

This person, who ever they are, gives me something cold to drink. I don't think it's water. It doesn't taste like water. I think it's a potion. Something with a dreadful taste, yet it warms the insides and soothes whatever I might begin to feel. And then, I drift off into sleep, where the silence still remains and I am still peaceful and happy. I don't want it to go. I want the silence with me always. Can I not just have that for me? Can I not keep this after everything I have done? Please?

The darkness fades into light, and the silence into screams and I am faced with people, thousands of people all talking at once. All saying something but nothing makes sense. I don't want to hear it. I want to turn it off. I want to take back the silence that covered me from this, this feeling of uncertainty, this feeling of despair I now feel. As they talk, their voices raise. Shouting erupts and I'm left covering my ears and begging for the sweet silence again. I cannot bear to hear them. I cannot make myself listen to their words. I don't want it. I want sleep. I want peace. I want my silence back.

I shy away from these people who are fighting. But who or what are they fighting over? I'm not sure but I think it's me. I don't want them to bicker over me. I find myself in a small corner, where I try to drift off to sleep. But sleep does not come. The voices get louder and louder, until I am screaming with them. It does not help that I cannot recognize these people in this room, nor recognize the room itself. I just know they fight for a reason, but what that reason is, I do not know. And I scream in hopes of making it all go away, so I can reenter that blanket of silence.

I close my eyes in hopes of it all being gone when I open them again. And low and behold, it works. I'm feel alone. In a tent, with people all around me. I recognize these people. Some are crying. Some are smiling. While I am left in wonder of what is going on. I do not have my silence, but I have something else: Life. And I smile. I smile because I've been given a second chance at living. And the air feels lighter. No longer does it feel as though the Earth is holding it's breath. It has exhaled, and with good reason.

I survived.