The Fall

January 23, 2001.

'Dear Mum, Dad and everyone else,

I suppose you've heard about Harry by now. I wanted to tell you what happened myself, in person, but I can't, not with Voldemort sill out there. I'm sorry that you had to find out by someone else, someone not as close to Harry or you as me.

It was awful; blood was everywhere. Harry was nearly gone when I got there; the stupid idiot decided to sneak out while I was sleeping to kill Voldemort. I was too late, there was nothing I could have done.

That's why I have to do it now, why I haven't contacted you until now. I have to kill Voldemort, and you wouldn't have let me. I *need* to do this. I probably won't make it, but that's okay, Voldemort won't kill and destroy anymore families after tonight.

One last thing, Harry and I were together. It was only for one night, but we were in love. Goodbye.

Love,
Ron.'

Epilogue, February 1st 2001.

The wind was cold and crisp against the mourners gathered, a few shivered and pulled their winter cloaks tighter. Weak February sunlight broke through the steel gray clouds in the sky. A thoroughly cheerless day, perfect for the occasion. Sounds of crying and sniffling filled the crowd as the casket was being lowered. After the grave had been filled, people slowly drifted away in small groups until the cemetery was once again silent. People had objected when Molly Weasley had wanted to bury her son next to the Great Harry Potter, but Molly had held firm. It was what Ron and Harry would have wanted.

An unusually strong wind blew an old copy of The Daily Prophet into the cemetery; it came to rest between Harry and Ron's graves. It read:

"Voldemort has fallen! Sources close to the Ministry say that there is little chance of him returning!"

Below it was a picture of cheering crowds. There was no mention of who had killed Voldemort.

~~finis~~