Everyone sat in the common room, knowing that people were dying for them. Harry Potter was guilt ridden, but Dumbledore insisted that he stay with the younger children. Hermione and Ron sat by him. Outside, there were screams of pain and blinding flashes green light. The first and second years were crying as Hermione tried to comfort them, but her efforts were in vain. “I want my mommy,” a little girl said at Hermione’s waist.
“She’s not here,” Hermione said softly.
The girl began to cry. Hermione did not know if the child’s mother was dead or not, but she knew that the mother was not there to comfort her child. “Hush. What is your name?” Hermione said softly again.
The girl looked up at Hermione with big, blue eyes. “Clara,” The girl said.
“That’s a nice name,” Hermione said.
The fire began to die. Darkness filled the room and lighting filled the sky. A strong wind howled in the night. Rain beat upon windows, threatening to harm them. A great wind came and threw open a window with a bang. The children began to cry more. Harry closed the window and saw the battle below them. It was not their battle; it was not their war. It was his.
Harry had acted rash before, but this time it would not be in vain. People shouldn’t fight his battle for him. It was something he had to do. Harry closed the window. It moaned in protest. “I have to go for a walk,” Harry said.
Hermione and Ron knew Harry far too well. “And will you come back?” Hermione asked.
“I don’t know,” Harry said.
“You’re not going to…” Ron said.
Hermione put her finger to her lips. “Hush, there are children present. You will come back. I know you will,” Hermione whispered.
“There are two sides to one story,” Harry said.
Hermione and Ron hugged Harry, crying a bit. They knew that Harry had to do this. “Don’t frighten the children by crying. We don’t want them to panic. I will see you soon,” Harry said.
“You promise?” Ron asked.
“I promise,” Harry said tearfully.
Harry wasn’t good at goodbyes, so he said he would see them soon. He just hoped he was right. Harry walked outside, into the rain, into the battle, into the pain and into the future. The faith of the world rested on his shoulders, in his hands and with his wand.
The rain soaked Harry. He saw the death around him. Harry walked pasted the Dementors, past the Death Eaters, past the death, past the Order and past Dumbledore. They knew it was time.
Voldemort was at the end of Harry’s walking. “Far too long, far too painful and far too patient have I waited,” Voldemort said.
He raised his wand.
**
“Ron, we have to do something,” Hermione whispered, pointing to the children and looking outside.
“What about a prayer?” Ron asked.
“A prayer, for what?” Hermione asked softly.
“A final prayer to the dying,” Ron replied.
Hermione listened as Ron spoke. “We must bow our heads and pray for the dying, pray for life and pray for hope. We are only on this earth for so long. The time has come for people to reach their ends…”
“Crucio!”
Screams of pain came from Harry.
**
“It is not how they died, but how they lived that made them heroes. They cannot be forgotten. They will give us our freedom…”
**
“Crucio.”
Screams of pain came from Voldemort. His whole body was emerged in pain.
**
“They will give us our lives. They will suffer, but they will do it for us. The Death Eaters will die. May God have mercy on their souls…”
**
Voldemort raised his wand with a villainous smile.
**
“Hundreds will die, but not the thing they died for…”
**
“Avada Kedavra!”
**
“This is a prayer for the dying. May they not be forgotten and may they live forever in our hearts. Amen,” Ron said sadly, opening his eyes.
Everyone opened their eyes. “Amen,” they echoed.
A warm light filled their eyes. The rain dried. The wind died. The fire grew. The children stopped crying and admired the new day. Hermione and Ron looked out the window and saw a group of people marching toward the castle. The sun blinded them, so they couldn’t see who was coming. One person was in the front. Hermione spoke, “Is that…”
Before she could finish Ron was racing down the stairs. Hermione followed. They ran outside. The boy in the front ran; Hermione and Ron ran join him. They hugged. “Harry, I knew you could do it!” Hermione said.
“Harry, I’m so glad to see you,” Ron said in a sad, but glad way.
“It’s alright. I’m fine, but the others…most are dead,” Harry said shakily.
“Is it over?” Hermione asked.
Harry thought. “Voldemort is gone, if that’s what you mean. It will never be over though. There will be scars that no one can heal. The people that have lived will live with the pain of the final battle. They will remember the loved ones that they have lost,” Harry said.
A tear rolled down Harry’s cheek. His tears were not of pain, but of happiness. “It’s over, it’s really over,” Harry said.
The trio hugged and was in a circle of love. Everything dark was light. Everything sad was happy. Everything evil was kind. Everything changed on that day.
Harry, Hermione, Ron, and everyone else in the school said a final prayer. Instead of it being a prayer for the dying, it was a prayer for the dead. “They fought for us and it is time we respect them for it,” Harry said.
A memorial was made. It was dark, gray marble and everyone’s name that died was carved into the smooth surface. The first people on the list were Lily and James Potter. Harry’s eyes watered when he saw his parents names.
A final prayer was made over the memorial. Inscribed on the memorial was “It was not how they died that made them heroes, it was how they lived.”
A prayer for the dying is a final prayer.
A/N- Thanks to my betas Scarlet Crystal and lavenderbrown_47.