No Greater Love

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"...This is my commandment: love one another as I love you. No one has greater love than this, to lay down one's life for one's friends..."

-John 15: 12-13-

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There were scorch-marks on the field. Large ones, perfectly circular. They even made their own, corporate circle.

Seventeen burned portions of grass and weeds.

Seventeen.

I have often wondered if Harry felt different...older...before the end. I knew he would have realised the special significance of this particular birthday. Seventeen. The age when a wizard completes his education...and the age when he comes into his full power.

Did he know? Is that why he was able to defeat Voldemort?

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I remember waking up the morning after Harry's birthday party. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had invited all the soon-to-be Gryffindor seventh years to celebrate, not to mention a few of Harry's friends in other houses. I remember feeling groggy...disoriented, dizzy really. I know I must have looked at each person in turn, because I remember thinking to myself: Why are they still here?

No one had planned on staying over, except Harry and me. But we had been at the Burrow for four whole weeks before this. I was struck dumb for a moment. Four weeks.

Where had I heard that recently? Oh, yes...

Two days before the party, at around three A.M., I had gone to get a glass of water. As I walked back to the room I had been sharing with Ginny Weasley, I noticed a solitary figure standing in front of a window.

It was Harry...staring out into the empty fields behind the house.

"Four weeks," he whispered. "After waiting sixteen years, you grow impatient over a trifle of four weeks."

I had been too tired to approach him, and I returned to my bed sluggishly.

That morning, when all of us woke up in the living room, after I had assessed the situation in my early-morning frame of mind, I looked at Ron. He looked at me in return, confusion etched deeply into his handsome features.

"Sleeping draught," spat Mrs. Weasley. "Who on earth could have gotten this into the drinks without us knowing? And who would want to?"

No one answered her, for no one in the room had such a reply. Ginny stood from her seat and glanced around.

"Where's Harry?" she asked timidly.

My eyes and Ron's eyes snapped over at her and then back at each other.

"No," Ron whispered, horrified expressions creeping onto both our faces. "NO!"

They never did find either body.

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Five years later, I returned to the field behind the abandoned old house for the first time since that dreadful morning. The grass never recovered from the damage inflicted upon it, so the scorch-marks remained as a reminder for us all.

My eyes scanned the sight, dry and emotionless. I remembered everything so vividly, recalled it so often in my mind that it became like a photograph through time. I walked out into the centre of the circle and stood there for what seemed like hours.

Finally, I had had enough. Too many memories were imbedded in this field...

I turned around and began to walk back. I looked in front of me...and there was a man, about my age walking slowly in my direction. He waved hello to me cheerfully, and I stopped, not wanting to seem rude.

"Good morning, miss," he greeted. A lopsided grin graced his face. His hair reminded me somewhat of Harry's, all tufts sticking out at odd angles. His eyes were crystal blue, and he wore no glasses, but...

"Good morning," I replied. "I'm sorry, but you look amazingly alike to someone I once knew."

He chuckled. "You wouldn't believe the amount of people who say that to me. Most of them are odd birds, wearing cloaks and the like, but they seem nice enough."

I nodded, understanding perfectly. People from the wizarding world would easily mistake this man for...Harry. I gulped.

"May I ask for your name?" I inquired. He smiled warmly at me, and he began to walk past me, into the circle.

"It's James," replied the man, chuckling once again. "I'm terribly sorry, but I have to be going. Here, I'd like to give you this." He handed a small piece of paper to me. "It was nice talking with you, Hermione."

He waved to me, and I waved back. I looked at the scrap of paper he had pressed into my palm.

'No one has greater love than this, to lay down one's life for one's friends'. Hmm, it's a nice saying.

I had already reached my Muggle car when a serious thought hit me with the force of the Cruciatus curse.

How did he know my name?