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For Those Who Died They Live: For Those Who Live They Died by Weasley twins rock

Format: One-shot
Chapters: 1
Word Count: 3,919
Status: COMPLETED

Rating: 12+
Warnings: No Warnings

Genres: General
Characters: Harry, Ron, Hermione, Trelawney, Fred, OtherCanon
Pairings: Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione

First Published: 05/29/2007
Last Chapter: 05/29/2007
Last Updated: 05/29/2007

Summary:
My Writer's duel entry for: 'It Ended with a Scar'.
The war is finally over and the whole of the wizarding world are celebrating like they have been deprived for a millenium. While Hogwarts celebrates with the survivors, the saviours, two unlikely companions sit in an old classroom. They alone know what the future holds in store......


Chapter 1: For Those Who Died They Live: For Those Who Live They Died
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The evening was warm, the sky painted with the watercolours especially saved for such glorious times, it felt as though the world had not seen those colours for hundreds of years, yet there they floated, like great ribbons across the sky, the land beneath basking in it’s glory.

A large ginger cat sat upon an old and battered wooden sign outside the only total wizard dwelling in England, the worn and faded lettering reading ‘Hogsmeade’. The cat’s tail flicked agitatedly, swishing the ever annoying horse flies away. His keen golden eyes peered across the landscape from his flat face, a couple of small tags clung to his tiny collar that disappeared into the mass of ginger fur, one of them read ‘Crookshanks’. Having had enough of the pestilential flies that seemed to adore such summer nights; he hopped silently off of his perch and padded up the cobbled street of Hogsmeade.

The streets were warm and welcoming, deafening laughter came from the village pub, The Three Broomsticks, light flooded out of the windows as the last of the many people made their way out of the tiny little building, most of them had been drinking all day in a run up to the festivities that were to take place that evening and at last it was time for the procession to commence. Crookshanks slunk through the many legs that walked towards the distant Hogmseade station, the scarlet steam engine puffed steam across the platform which held many witches and wizards who had come up from London to join the festivities that were to take place in just seconds.

Crookshanks hissed loudly as some young giggling girls, danced past waving long streamers behind them, their shrill laughter puncturing the air as they passed the bandy-legged cat who hissed menacingly before weaving his way to the front of the procession that was heading down a long dirt track. It did not take the procession long to reach it’s destination as they sung loudly and threw their pointed hats into the air to tumultuous applause as the great gates, flanked by stone winged boars came into view. Crookshanks carefully slunk through the hundreds of pairs of legs to sit at the front of the crowd as a tall, regal looking figure made their way down the grounds of Hogwarts to welcome the arrivals, whose voices and murmurings buzzed like an excitable hive of bees, the sound making the fibre of every being present tingle with a mixture of excitement and unexplained apprehension.

The regal looking figure was the Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, wearing only her finest tartan dress robes, her hair still up in its painfully tight bun, only a hint of a smile hovering about her thin lips; even she could not quite hide her glee for this day. The crowds silenced as she reached the colossal iron gates, such a change in volume was almost painful on the ears as though everyone had suddenly gone deaf. Crookshanks meowed loudly, not liking the change; a few murmured laughs came from the huge gathering as they all looked at McGonagall expectedly. The tall woman drew her wand from her robes and held it aloft like a baton, waving it in a fluid and complicated motion, wordlessly, the gates sprung open and the procession commenced.

Crookshanks purred as he neared the castle that had been his home for four years, he had sniffed out that impostor here, not to mention mauled many legs of passing students when they dared to try and sit on his couch. Lights streamed from the thousands of windows that adorned nearly every visible stone wall of the colossal building, the patterns decorated the lawns out the front of the magnificent castle. Taking his leave from the procession, Crookshanks instead turned right and head off towards the familiar hut that stood in the grounds, it had an air of loneliness about it nowadays, however well kept it had been. Hagrid had yet to return from the giants he had been sent to try and bring to the final battle, it was now widely accepted that he wouldn’t be coming back. Crookshanks slowed and gave out a loud meow, knowing the consequences if he hadn’t. With a loud bark, Fang the boarhound came bounding around from the back of the house, his tail between his legs in cowardice, he came to a halt when he noticed the ginger cat, whined slightly and wandered back off, to guard the home of his master.

Crookshanks instead turned his golden eyes onto a little Scops owl that sat on a nearby pumpkin, bopping his little feathery head up and down in excitement of seeing something moving. Crookshanks, hissed at the feathery intruder and wandered past leaving Pigwidgeon alone and dejected, who hurriedly took flight towards the celebrations at the entrance to the castle.

The flat-faced cat strode towards the castle, Hogwarts was not it’s usual self today, it had been unanimously voted that it should be the place that all celebrations were to be held for the end of the war that had lasted so long and taken such a toll on any being, or beats involved. Every part of the castle that could be used had been. Out on the lawns were the four house tables, charmed by the tiny form of Professor Flitwick, to elongate whenever their size no longer fitted the requirements, a constant stream of house-elves running to and fro with platters of fine food filling the ever lengthening tables with mouth-watering dishes. In charge of all of the food was Molly Weasley, blustering about in her flowery dress robes, noticing Crookshanks by her legs and avoiding him but accidentally knocking over a stumpy little house-elf instead who was then consequently covered from head to foot in ice-cream. Molly muttered “Scourgify” under her breath and carried on rallying the house-elves on. Taking a breather, she looked up at the crystal blue lake, her eyes widening as a fleet of small boats made their way across the surface.

“They’re coming!” she cried out as the procession, headed by McGonagall turned up just as the finishing touches were added to the tables.

Sure enough the small fleet of boats were delivering their star guests to the festivities, along their hulls were paintings of many magical symbols and patterns, all outlining the Hogwarts crest; a little face-lift from the ever crafty Dean Thomas, who was standing proudly on the bank looking upon his handy work.

The boats held all manner of people who had provided help that without, could have lead to a defeat in the battle not two months ago. Among them were Ministry officials who had finally decided to do something, every member of the Order of the Phoenix besides Molly and McGonagall who were in charge of the organising, had a place in one of the boats, including (to Molly’s disgust) Mundungus Fletcher, who’s black-market contacts had proven invaluable. At the front of the procession however sat the teenagers that had really made it all work and come together, the ones who had actually made the first steps and the last into the war that would finally mean the end of fear created by Voldemort. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred, George, Luna (who had Trevor the toad on her head), Colin, Dennis, Seamus and Parvati, all sat in an extra large boat that led the procession, a flaming purple torch (Hermione’s handiwork) glowing in their wake.

The crowd on the bank silenced for a moment as the boats glided serenely towards them, mermaids breaking the surface of the water, blowing horns made of shells as they passed, that made an eerie noise to the night sky that was by now a clear blue, the crescent moon swimming up through the clouds to take the place of the setting sun in the sky. Crookshanks bounded through the crowds and leapt into the first boat that moored, straight into the arms of Hermione, soon followed by Hedwig and Pigwidgeon who settled onto their master’s shoulders, hooting softly, Hedwig nibbling Harry’s ear comfortingly to the young man who seemed slightly overawed by the hundreds, maybe even thousands of people who had managed to come.

Harry looked across the crowds of expectant witches and wizards, his brain pounding against his head as the many pairs of eyes peered towards him. Were they expecting a speech? Harry opened his mouth and then closed it again, resembling a very confused goldfish. He may have been the saviour of the magical community but he still didn’t have the confidence to make a speech in front of so many.

Fred and George suddenly came up behind Harry, grinning from ear to ear, between them they lifted him bodily off the floor and placed him precariously on their shoulders.

“What are we waiting for!” they shouted to the crowd in unison. “Can’t you see he wants to celebrate?!”

The massive crowd roared in approval, the volume reaching such a height that many onlookers swore that they saw the lake ripple, which was then confirmed to be the Giant Squid surfacing to watch the festivities with one very large eye, resting on the surface of the water, it’s gaze on the four tables that stretched out on the lawns.

As the crowds dispersed to their many different ways of celebration the twins lowered Harry to the ground, clapping him on the back heartily before running off to set light to a huge crate of their Wild-Fire Whiz-Bangs which had been in great demand of late as celebrations took place all over the country.
Harry watched as the multi-coloured works of art launched themselves into the air, sending off showers of sparks, the lights reflecting off of his glasses. He watched as a dragon fly consisting of electric blue sparks danced across the surface of the lake, weaving in and out of the Giant Squid’s tentacles that seemed to be trying to grasp the dancing firework. Harry jumped slightly as a hand laid upon his shoulder and Ron’s gruff voice was heard behind him.

“Y’all right mate?” he asked quietly, watching Harry, his friend of seven years with a look of concern upon his face. Hermione stood by his side, looking equally concerned, her arm lightly linked with Ron’s.

“I’m fine,” said Harry after a long and painful pause. “I just…….. can’t believe that we all made it,” he smiled weakly. “I mean you two, have gone through everything with me,” he added as he gained control over his voice. “And yet all three of us have come out of this alive…... scarred,” he added waving a hand at Ron’s arm that was heavily scarred from a nasty incident with one of the horcruxes. “But alive.” He turned back to the lake for a moment, watching its shimmering surface under the moon.

“Come on Harry,” said Hermione, slipping one hand into his and pulling on his arm gently as though to prise him away from his thoughts. “Today we celebrate; tomorrow we can face our thoughts. You have earned this respite, enjoy it while you can.” She pulled on Harry’s arm again ignoring the warning look that Ron sent her behind Harry’s back.

Harry smiled at Hermione warily. “I’m coming,” he said simply turning away from the lake and starting to walk through the grounds to the Gryffindor table which had been put aside for the member’s of the D.A. and the Order of the Phoenix. Harry sat down in-between Mad-Eye Moody and Arthur Weasley while Ron and Hermione went inside the castle, wanting to see what had become of the Great Hall

As the many members of the Order of the Phoenix and the DA sat down to enjoy the magnificent spread courtesy of the Hogwarts house elves the rest of the crowds celebrated about the castle and the expansive grounds. The common rooms were each full of pupils past and present, coming back to see their old haunts, the Great Hall had been turned into a ball room which was full of laughter and chat as some of the most popular music from the magical world was played on a huge record player. Old friends and colleagues chatted in the corridors and sometimes to the portraits and ghosts that were particularly active that day, happy to see students from time long past.

Hagrid’s hut had a small procession of wizards passing by the front door, watched agitatedly as a few of them, produced bouquets of flowers from the ends of their wands and placed them on the doorstep, as though passing a tomb, even though the truth was uncertain. Similar proceedings were happening at the tomb of Dumbledore, except many more flowers, sweets, messages and all other manner of presents, including a pair of socks from Harry lay at its marble base.

The classrooms were full of chatting people of all ages, some of the teacher’s that had taught at Hogwarts through the decades, visiting the old haunts, the only area that had not been made use of was anything lower than the ground floor, all of the dungeons including the Chamber of Secrets had been abandoned, except for the Bloody Baron who floated about aimlessly, staring moodily about him as he had done for several hundred years.

All of them had one major thing in common; they were all free, even some of the house elves were being more daring, egged on by Hermione who was dancing around with a delighted Dobby in the Great Hall, watched by a slightly moody Ron who sat by the sidelines in his new dress robes that were eventually given to him by Fred and George, looking totally disgruntled as to why he had even ended up in such a situation again.

Meanwhile at the Gryffindor table, many memories were being relived and many people remembered, yet it was not a solemn occasion but one of joy, remembering all of the good times as though the darkness that was Lord Voldemort and his minions had never been. Besides Molly slapping Mundungus Fletcher rather harshly when he tried to steel a grand golden goblet, everyone was getting on harmoniously, just as they had a few times at 12 Grimmauld Place and the Burrow, it was like reliving every good memory in their first night of true freedom. They sat for a couple of hours chatting and eating, the table constantly being replenished by house-elves who hadn’t yet been danced with by Hermione, within this time many other people had joined the table, including Ron and Hermione, Ron looking a lot happier to be surrounded by food as one of the fireworks had conveniently managed to send a platter of meat right onto his plate. When everyone expected had arrived at the table, Arthur rose from his seat at the side of the table, goblet raised before him.

“I would like to propose a toast,” he said with a wide beam. “To Harry, the saviour of our magical community who without him we would all have long ago been imprisoned to the slavery that would have been if Voldemort had reigned,” a small shudder went around the table at the name, most had still to get used to the name being used. “More importantly,” added Arthur with a wink to Harry. “If it hadn’t been for Harry, I would never have learnt how to use a felly tone!”

“Telephone,” whispered Harry, reddening slightly as many eyes peered their way.

“Telly phone, that’s what I meant,” corrected Arthur, unabashed. “Anyway, may he live long and prosper!”

“Prosper!” came back every voice from the table, except Harry who was carefully examining one of the chicken legs that had landed on Ron’s plate as though highly interested in what he could possibly do with it.

The table laughed and returned to their food, happy to be free on a glorious evening, after decades of fear that had seemed to engulf the country like the mist that came with a Dementor.




That evening was a good one, people from all over the country, all over the world, held their celebrations in their communities or maybe only privately in their own homes, most had tried to attend Hogwarts, but other such celebrations occurred in Diagon Alley, Godric’s Hollow and the Ministry of Magic, even St. Mungos had a party that night, which would have been a pleasure to Neville and his Gran.

Two people however were celebrating in quite a different way; two people who many thought would never get over their differences. Professor Trelawney and Firenze the centaur sat in the enchanted classroom that had long ago been converted to suit Firenze when he had to take over teaching. His herd still considered him banished and he had resided here ever since. Professor Trelawney, had a crystal ball sitting on a tree stump near her and her magnified eyes, studied it’s surface, as her gnarled hands adjusted the folds of the many shawls that were draped about her tiny frame.

“I don’t know how you see what you do up in those stars,” she said taking a sip of sherry that she had wrapped in a paper bag behind her. “Surely you have no inner eye to see what you do, it is all nonsense.”

“I would not expect you humans to see what us wise centaurs can,” replied Firenze coolly who had settled on the soft moss and was gazing up at the stars. “While you seem to see the path of individuals I see the path of the universe.”

“Tosh,” said Trelawney simply taking another, slightly more generous sip from her sherry bottle, her eyes still gazing into the murky depths of her crystal ball. “And they say that I have no inner eye,” she said putting one of her frail hands to her chest as though mortally wounded. “But I have foretold so many things.”

Firenze snorted, much alike a horse, his tail swishing irritably only adding to the effect, his cold eyes searched the heavens. “I can see one being up there,” he said quietly, his gaze unfaltering. “I see Hagrid up there, the rumours are true he is dead.” He confirmed, his voice showing no emotion however much he felt it.

“Well,” said Trelawney loudly, slightly tipsily. “It was expected, stupid oaf going back to the giants, did he not know that you-know-who had them under his control?” she took another gulp from her bottle, only to be disappointed as the last drops trickled down her throat.

“Hagrid was a good man,” said Firenze slightly defensively. “His heart was in the right place, he saved me from my herd. He is joined by the dead, I see the one who nearly became the chosen one, the werewolf and the old potions teacher from here, he is in limbo, we may be seeing him soon.”

Trelawney snorted and threw the bottle to the floor turning her full attention to the crystal ball that she had been staring into. “I can see loads in here,” she said truthfully. “I see the chosen one, he is alive!”

Firenze whinnied with laughter. “Of course he is alive; he is out on the grounds, partying with the rest of his kind. You have about as much foresight as the Daily Prophet,” he smiled, an odd notion from such a serious creature and returned to surveying the night sky.

“That is not all that I can see,” said Trelawney indignantly, sniffing disapprovingly at the centaur that mocked her. “I can see his future, that boy is to make a fine auror, he will give it up though, he is going to return to Hogwarts a couple of decades from now, as he is the only one that can break the jinx that has taken hold of Defence Against the Dark Arts post.”

Firenze raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I too saw the lifting of the jinx,” he said slowly.

Trelawney cried out triumphantly and hastily returned to her gazing as an appraising look came from Firenze. “I see his two best friends, the young courageous ones, they never had the inner eye, it is fitting that two blind people should be soon wed.”

Firenze listened to the waffle of the woman. “I had my suspicions, there are a lot of new Weasleys in the sky, I have seen of late, one is brighter at the moment, that French girl, and she is with child.”

Trelawney ignored the centaur’s question, sneering at his like of precise foresight. “The Weasley boys are certainly to carry on the tradition of many children,” she said avoiding the question slightly, watching as many red headed toddlers gambled about in the mist of the orb. “The girl too shall carry on the tradition, yet Potter shall be their surname, they should be an interesting bunch. The only Weasleys I cannot see settling down soon is those twins,” she said curling her lip in disdain. “I see them here, in their joke shop, it seems to be thriving,” she said causally as though they were nothing special, she had always disliked the two twins who seemed to be wreaking havoc any time that she left the safety of her tower. “I can also see many of the Order, they shall live long and happy, although I see a cloud above the head of the grubby one,” said Trelawney, flicking through one of her many books to see what the omen could mean.

“You mean the thief?” said Firenze slowly. “I see him too, he is to go to the prison, there he is,” he said pointing to a patch of dull stars. “The central point is the prison; the area surrounding it seems to have become blank of late, as though there are fewer prisoners.”

Trelawney coughed “Breakout!” before returning to her gazing as Firenze turned to her, raising an eyebrow in disapproval.

“That was childish,” he proclaimed. “You really are the epitome of your kind Professor,” he added the last word with sarcasm.

Trelawney sniffed and tightened the shawls and beads about her shoulders and neck. “I shall not tell you any more that my inner eye sees,” she said tearfully, offended by the centaurs bluntness. “You do not deserve it.”

“Centaurs do not need anything from humans,” reminded Firenze slowly, still looking at the many stars in the sky. “Luckily our intelligence and sight far surpasses your own, which some people such as yourself need constant reminding,” he said disdainfully.

The two sat in mutual silence for a moment, both contemplating what they saw, for both were indeed blessed with foresight. While both were too proud to admit it, they both envied the methods of the other and the differences in what each could see.

“I am sure that we can be united in one sight,” said Firenze quietly.

“Hark what would that be,” said Trelawney, hiccupping and swaying slightly, her eyes popping madly from her sockets as the drink started to go to her head.

“Mars is dim tonight,” proclaimed Firenze pointing to the distant planet, which indeed was barely visible in the dark sky.

“That it is,” said Trelawney still swaying and hiccupping, her eyes going in and out of focus as they tried to find the planet in the endless black of the night sky. “So it is. You know why?” she asked turning to the wise, young centaur.

“Because of a scar,” replied Firenze slowly and solemnly.

Both raised a glass, Trelawney’s empty, Firenze’s with spring water in it, both rising to a toast of their own that summed up everything that their inner eye had been telling them for the last couple of decades.

“Because of a scar.”



A/N: Just a thanks to those five people who voted for it in the competition.

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