He could remember forcing his way through the mass of bodies, fighting through the crowd to reach his brother who lay, eyes closed, in the centre of the hall.

He remembered the restraining arms and the disjointed phrases such as "Colin" and "dead" and "sorry"; all of which were meaningless, as all Dennis wanted to do was wake his brother and feel safe and happy again.

He remembered screaming his brother's name until he was hoarse and, once he could no longer do so, whimpering with rage and anger. First, it was because he couldn't wake his brother, then because he had promised his big brother he would not cry, no matter what, and, finally, because of the realisation that his brother would no longer be there to tell him to stop.

He remembered curling up in a ball next to his lifeless brother, tears blurring his vision and too crippled by pain to stand, and thinking about the stories Colin used to tell when Dennis was scared and homesick.

He had never been without his brother before. Even when the fifth years had locked him in the astronomy tower in his first week, he had known that his brother would be looking for him, and as the rain had pounded down on him throughout the night, Dennis had sung their favourite songs and planned their next Great Adventure together. Dennis had still been awake when Colin had come across him in the first pale hours of the morning. "Don't be afraid, Dennis. I'll always be here to look after you," Colin had reassured him, and Dennis had known it to be true - his brother would always be there for him. But now he was no longer there and Dennis's heart was ripped open afresh in a new wave of angry and exhausted sobs.

And he could remember seeing the most terrifying sight of his life; far more terrifying than You Know Who or Potions or girls could ever be.

His father had rushed into the room, a single milk bottle still clutched in his trembling hand. Letting it smash to the floor he sank down beside his son, weeping unashamedly in front of his concerned audience. The howls which were wrenched from his body were earth-shattering and unreal.
The sound of his father’s sobs was more terrifying than anything Dennis had ever, or would ever, hear again. This was the man who had sung him to sleep the night his mother died, the man who had always held onto the faintest glimmer of hope in the direst situation.

Dennis knew in that instant that he was completely alone, that there was no one to be brave for him. His father's wailing sang to him of a world with no hope; with nothing left to live for. It told him that, along with his brother, meaning had gone from life. And in that moment Dennis knew that he would have to be the brave one; that his father would not make it if he was not there to be strong.

And so he screwed up his courage and held his father, only letting out a single sob as they rocked from side-to-side until his father's wailing trailed off into angry sighs. They held onto each other until they were both ready to let go. And Dennis knew he was doing his brother proud.

***
He spent the following days drifting aimlessly from room to room, unsure of what to feel, and unsure of how to feel it. Sometimes, he would remember a joke or a story which he had promised to tell his brother, and he would burst excitedly into the next room.

But Colin was never there.

He would long for sleep. He spent his days wishing for the time when he did not have to sit across the table from the ghost which his father had become, or sit alone on the rusty old swingset, trying to remember how life had been before. The tears which patterned his pillow each morning were somehow easier to take than the raw, bitter emptiness which he endured every waking moment.

Throughout the funeral he had sat hand-in-hand with his father, both squeezing hard to make sure the other was really there. They had told the Muggles that he had died in his sleep. It comforted Dennis to know that, to someone, his brother had died with a smile on his face. Dennis's own dreams had been haunted by the disfiguring grimace that had corrupted his cheery brother's face in his final moments.

When Colin's name was mentioned at the memorial service, among the many who had given up their lives in the struggle, a murmur of approval went around. Dennis only wished Colin could be there to see the appreciative nod which Harry Potter himself gave.

There seemed to be queues of people lining up to shake his father's hand after the ceremony; too many people. But the only person he wanted to see wasn't there. Dennis wandered away from the crowd, surprised to find that for the first time in days he felt safe leaving his father's side. He knew his father would be there when he got back; that they would make it through.

Dennis let out a shuddering sigh. He was no longer angry. It was a beautiful day; the grass danced in the gentle wind around him. He could feel life coursing through the sunny moor.

He knew now that Colin was gone, and he knew that no one would ever replace him. But he also knew now that his own life would continue. After all, his brother had died so others could live. So he could live. He owed it to Colin to at least try, for him and his father.

He walked to the cliff edge, staring out at the sea stretching out in front of him. The sea breeze cooled the hot tears, which clung to his cheeks. There had been so much he had wanted to tell his brother. So many things left unsaid.

Now there was only one thing left to say.

"Bye Colin," Dennis whispered, leaving the wind to carry his words away.