Blood.
Blood was everywhere. Soaking the dirt, covering the grass, staining his clothes. As the boy regained consciouness and looked around, he could see nothing but the deep red of freshly spilled blood.
It took him a moment to realize where he was, but as he took in his surroundings it all came rushing back.
To his left, the ravaged remains of the Quidditch stadium. In front of him, the blackened burned trees of the Forbidden Forest. To his right, the rubble of what had once been Hogwarts Castle. All around him, the bodies of the brave people that had stood by his side through it all.
The boy struggled to his feet and stood, swaying slightly, and then began to walk through the hell of the battle field. His stomach jolted unpleasantly and tears sprang to his eyes each time he passed a body that bore a familiar face. He didn’t, however, see the three faces he dreaded seeing above all others. He walked for some time, not taking any particular route. He checked the faces of the dead as he passed and did what he could to comfort those that would soon be like them. He sat with them until the light left their eyes. All of them asked the same question before they breathed their last breath and he quietly told them what they wanted to here. The truth was terrible, but it satisfied them and they were left with looks of peace on their faces when they slipped into eternity.
After an hour of passing the dead and comforting the doomed, he cam upon a man who was most certainly going to die, but was resolutely dragging himself by his hands towards the shade of the trees. The boy knelt down next to the man.
“Sir? Is there anything I can do for you?”
The man turned his face towards the boy and the boy shrank back in shock and anguish. The face was familiar, scarred and ravaged as it was, and it tore at the boy’s heart to see such a great man in such a sad state. The boy struggled to controll his emotions, but it was no use. Tears began sliding down his face. The man took no notice, but looked up desperately into the face of his best friend’s son, no light of recognition gleaming in his eyes.
“Did we win?” he asked in a voice filled with pain. “Did Harry defeat Voldemort? Are we free again?”
The tears picked up speed and when the boy spoke it was in a strangled voice. “Yes, Remus. He did. The world is free again.”
The man nodded and laid his head down on the blood soaked ground. "I knew he could do it," he muttered faintly.
The man smiled as the light left his eyes. The boy cried harder and closed the man’s eyes with trembling fingers. As he sat there, lost in his grief, he heard footsteps approach him from behind. He turned and saw his best mate running towards him.
“We need your help! The Death Eaters are attacking the remaining Order members! You’ve got to help us, mate!”
I can’t do it anymore! I can’t do it anymore!
As he backed away, leaving his friend staring after him, fear and grief coursed through him.
I can’t do it anymore!
His courage had failed him. For the first time in living memory, he was running away.
I am a coward...
As the thought repeated itself over and over in his mind, Harry Potter broke into a run and fled over the bloodsoaked battlefield.
The Courage of a Hero by BeautifulDreamer07
Chapter Notes: I decided that this one-shot needed a prologue. People were asking me about the ending of it and I thought this might help explain.
Warning: Disturbing Imagery, Character Death, mentioned Violence.