How could I never see? She’s been there along, since we were children, and I never noticed… I never noticed this. I can see it in her dying eyes, as she mumbles on about rain and how she’s fine. How could I miss this kind of beauty, the light splatter of freckles, her mess of curls? But the red, oh, the dull, watery red, is spreading too fast. The wound is on her side, thank Merlin, not her stomach, but something seems off. The rain couldn’t dilute the blood enough for there to be this much, could it? Oh, God. There has to be something I can do. There just has to be. Rose can’t die now; it’s not her fault, and it’s not her time.
–Albus.†Her voice is as soft as the rain hitting our faces, and it kills me to see the pain etched in her face. It’s not a grimace, but her expression is one of the calm, ethereal dazedness of someone who knows they are going to die.
Rose is going to die.
Suddenly, everything is so loud. I can hear the sounds of curses being flung, the agonized screams of everyone I know falling down around me. I see my father, cutting through the battle like a madman. There’s something different about him: he’s only deflecting, never attacking. It’s like he’s searching for someone. Not me, though; I haven’t spoken to him in a year, but the fear in his face lets me know he’s not like the others. Harry Potter is always the savior, the ray of light among the darkness of the Ministry, and a part of me hates him for it. He succeeded in changing the world and still is. That’s something I’ll never be able to say.
In fact, he is part of the reason I’m even here; he’s the one who taught me to think for myself. Don’t misunderstand me, though - I didn’t ask for this slaughter, but we weren’t going to lie down in front of them to walk over us. After they declared the revolution’s arrest warrants, we had been hiding out in the warehouse Rose is now propped up against. We still campaigned - mostly at night - but never violently. It was only when the Ministry found us, when it came down to giving up or fighting, that wands were drawn, and slowly, the circle of Aurors started to close in. People, my people, are falling left in right.
–Albus, what were you thinking?†There is a trace of a smile on her face, her beautiful pale face, and I turn back to her as we hide in this little shadow, ignored for the moment. I’ll meet my fate soon enough, but I won’t leave Rose to die alone. I owe her at least that much. The battle can wait; for the first time in a long time, something is more important than the cause. The feeling is odd. I’d prepared myself for losses, but I had never expected anything this painful. It is as if I’m bleeding out, not Rose.
–It’ll be all right, Rose. I promise. It’s not your time,†I find myself saying desperately, but as I look at the wound, I realize it’s nothing I’ve ever seen before. Rose was going to be a Healer. If she doesn’t know how to fix this, I don’t think anyone can. But Rose can’t die. She just can’t.
Is it fair that she’s the one who tried so hard to talk me out of this crazy idea, but then she ended up paying our price? This is our fight, not hers. We were just schoolchildren who ran away with their ideas. The world can’t really change - the good never lasts. And we were idiots to think we could. Look what happened - my best friend, my cousin, my almost lover… she’s fading before my eyes as everyone falls around me.
–It’s okay, Al. I don’t feel any pain,†she whispers. –The rain feels … nice. And I’m safe with you.†Another scream of agony wrings out. Again, part of me twists inside; these are my troops. This is my fight. I should be out there with them, but I can’t bring myself to leave Rose. –Go. There’s nothing you can do for me now.â€
–I’m not leaving you.†My voice shakes, and I feel hot tears melt into the grime on my face. Quickly, I grab her hand, the hand slick with her own blood. –I’m not leaving you.†And it’s true. I’d never forgive myself if I just left her there to die. The pain is becoming almost too much to bear, but this isn’t about me. This is about Rose.
–That’s all I need.†That’s when the guilt grips me, forcing the oxygen out of my lungs. It’s a pain I’ve never felt. She should be angry. It’s my fault she’s even like this, but no; in her dying moments, she wants to be with me. I’ve never been good to her, and she still loves me. A dry sob escapes, and Rose’s hand meets my face. Even now, she’s the strong one. I hadn’t realized just how much I used her, for everything. How much I need her. –Albus. Do you remember that summer?â€
How could I forget? It was the summer where everything changed, when I finally realized how much the Ministry was keeping quiet. I knew why she was bringing it up, though… that night.
It’s odd, isn’t it, how one night, or even a week, can be filled with life-altering moments, and the next year, or ten years, nothing changes? Everything always seems to collapse at once.
It had been July, and Scorpius and I had started to notice some things about the government. People were practically being locked up for thinking a way the Ministry didn’t want them to, and there were so many restrictions that ensured the rich stayed elite and in control. It was completely against everything that the war had been for: free will, equality, and the right for each person to think for themselves. Where had all that gone? It was almost returning to the way it was before the wars… people living in fear of the government instead of being helped by it. Rose thought we were delusional, but she still stood by my side. Why would she do that? I couldn’t convince her, but she didn’t turn against me, no matter how crazy the idea sounded.
We had been children, but we thought we were adults. We had only just finished school, but we were ready to take on the world. I couldn’t see it then, but now I do. Now I see how this never could have worked. What we wanted was a revolution, but a revolution needs the support of a nation, and an army that could rival the Ministry. Not schoolboys who hardly knew how to duel. Rose had tried. Merlin, she had tried to make me see that, but I couldn’t. I was lost in the romantic dream of leading the people to victory, that underdog tale everyone loves so much, not the tragedy this is turning into.
That summer had been the best and worse of my life. It had been a summer of deciding what was important and dealing with the consequences, but it’d also been a summer with Rose. No one would ever know about the nights I’d spent with my fingers entangled in her soft hair, or the times out on the summer grass back where no one could see. It was a mess of lust, of sheer burning, beautiful passion, and stolen kisses by the pond. It burned so bright, but it ran itself dry. I had never thought it was love and had never seen how Rose really felt: how she wanted me as hers, and how I never saw. Those moments had been perfect, but it hadn’t worked. We wanted such different things, and I never saw what we had as love. I should have, especially after that last night of summer, the night I left.
I had been standing in the garden behind my house, taking one last look before I left. It was almost midnight, and I assumed anyone who had been at my house would have left. Normally, this was where Rose and I would meet, before walking to the pond. I hadn’t spoken to her in a few days, though, and I told her the last time we wouldn’t meet this week. I had known for a while what I was going to do now.
–What are you doing?†Slowly, I turned around to face her. There was a look of utter betrayal on Rose’s face, and her eyes kept drifting from my rucksack to my face.
She should have seen this coming, though; it’s what I’d been talking about for years. Now, I could finally do what I had promised. I was going to gather the people, call them to arms.
–Rose, I -†I tried, but she cut me off. I had meant to leave without causing a fuss, to slip away in the night, to avoid this very conversation.
–No. Don’t even start. You’re leaving, aren’t you?†Why was she acting like this? Rose knew I was going to do this, but now, she was trying to stop me.
–Yes.†It’s the only thing I could say. I couldn’t lie to Rose, but I wasn’t going to argue with her, either. Part of me still wanted to just run up to her and snog her senseless, but I couldn’t. I’m leaving. Whatever we had, it’s over.
–Please don’t do this, Al.†There was a plea in her voice, but I couldn’t give in to her. Not even as she moved closer, wrapping her hands around my waist. I tried to turn away, but her lips caught mine too quickly. And just like that, my confidence wavered. How could I leave her, when she made my insides explode every time we kissed?
No. I had to do this. It was what I had been dreaming about; I couldn’t let a girl, even one like Rose, keep me from it. And staying with her wasn’t an option, no matter how much I wanted it to be. She couldn’t be tied to me, not with the controversy I was about to cause. But still, I melted into her. I lost myself in the softness of her lips, of the way her hands ran up and down my chest.
Eventually, though, I had to pull away. I wasn’t going to stay, no matter how much she wanted me to. The summer was ending, and my period of bliss was over. So I left without another word, before she could make me lose all of my resolve to leave.
And that was probably the worst choice I ever made in my life, to leave Rose crying, calling my name, in the garden outside of my house.
–I’m so sorry.†The words slip out of my mouth before I can stop them, and the tears stream harder and faster as Rose’s breathing slows down. Her hair is plastered to her face, and the watery blood is pooling around her - around us - but she is so beautiful. How could I have ever left her?
–It’s all right.†The rain is falling harder now, and I can see that it really is the end. –I love you, Albus.â€
–I love you too, Rose,†I reply lamely, trying to stop the flood of tears. Tears can’t help anyone now; they are just lost in the mass of rain, wasted. It’s then I can see Rose give up the fight… at my words, she knows she can be at peace. As her eyes flutter shut, I know I’ll never see the grayish-blue irises twinkle again. Never again will I hear her laugh, or feel the burst of warmth when her soft lips meet mine.
All I want to do now is give up, to just sit down and cry like a baby. Rose is gone. No grand cause or amount of tears can bring her back to me, even though she wasn’t ever mine to have. She died in a fight that wasn’t hers, because that curse was meant for me. It’s my fault she’s dead. All of the blood on the pavement is because of me; lives were cut short because of my actions.
But I’m fighting for what is right, and so were they. It’s worth it… isn’t it? There is always a price to pay, and every person knew what they signed up for. I never thought it would go this far, but they believed in the struggle for freedom, for a government that’s finally for us, the people. They had to.
No. I can’t doubt myself now. This is my fight, and I can’t sit here crying over Rose, no matter how much it hurts. I have a higher calling, a cause, a purpose. And I can’t throw it all away because of one casualty. There are countless others besides Rose. Merlin, that sounds horrible, but it’s true. We are all just an insignificant life, a sad statistic in the end. And this rain can’t hurt us anymore; it’s our time to show we are better than the Ministry, that we can be selfless.
But as I look around, it is simply carnage. There are bodies scattering the pavement, and as I look over I see they were restrained before their eyes finally closed. As one Auror falls, it seems three Aurors take his place. I have to force myself to swallow the lump of fear in my throat, because I know what is coming. A choice; to die like heroes or to be arrested in shame. But it really isn’t a choice for me. A captain sinks with his ship. I’ve always known that and had decided long ago, if it came to this, what I’d do. I won’t be washed away like the blood already is. They have to remember this; they have to remember what I started, what we accomplished.
Sprinting into the chaos, dodging the never-ending jets of color, I see my father yelling out of the corner of my eye. It seems he had been searching for Rose, as she was in his arms, and he’s barking at the Aurors. If I was truly delusional, it would explain why it sounds like he’s telling them to fall back. It can’t be, though, because no one acknowledges him.
I know now that the battle is truly lost. There is a constant spectrum of colors, and it is honestly a miracle that Scorpius and I are still standing. In a few minutes, though, we are all that’s left. Back to back, facing down a circle of Aurors.
–All right there, mate?†Scorpius mutters, a slight smile creeping onto his face. My heart swells with pride; he’s not giving up, either. We are going to lose, yes, but we are going kicking and screaming. And, honestly, I can’t bear to live in a world as evil and corrupt as this; I will not be put at the mercy of this so-called –justice systemâ€.
–Never been better.†Now, the Aurors look nervous, because we can’t help but laugh. These could be our last words, and we’re mucking about. –Are you ready?†I ask, and Scorpius nods almost imperceptivity in return. Somewhere in the distance, I hear my father screaming at them to stop, for me to give up, and for them not to hurt me.
–Together.â€
I’ll see you soon, Rose.
It’s been a month. A month since three children (they will always be children to Harry, as nineteen is not old enough to die) were killed, a month since seventeen more were arrested, two Aurors with them. The Wizarding world was in shock. Never before had anything like this happened. Much like 2nd May, 15th August was a day when every witch and wizard cried.
Because it was a tragedy. For centuries, wizards prided themselves in being logical, able to solve their problems without killing each other as the Muggles did, but then something like this happened. It wasn’t as if a dark wizard was campaigning for blood purity; no, this was a group of idealists, boys with rose-tinted glasses who thought they could change the world, even though it didn’t need saving. Albus wasn’t dark. If anyone said that about his son, Harry would have flat-out punched them.
It was disgusting enough that they had murdered his son. There was no way Albus was going to attempt to kill any of the Aurors, and he was far outnumbered. After he had found out, Harry had personally arrested the two that had done it and made them pay for it; if they weren’t going to play by the Ministry’s rules, neither was he. They murdered his son and another boy. They wouldn’t go unpunished, by the justice system or by Harry. And saying anything bad about his son, after all he had done, all he had sacrificed, would not be tolerated.
Because Albus was a leader. He had this way about him that made people want to listen, that made them believe what he believed. But his son also was a rebel without a cause. Harry knew that. Albus had this grand idea he could change the world, and Harry didn’t doubt he had the persuasion skills to do it, but there truly wasn’t enough to fix. The reforms after the war had done remarkable things for the Wizarding world.
But Harry was proud of his son. No matter what anyone said, Albus stuck to his beliefs. He was a free thinker, and there was a sad type of beauty of everything that happened. It was such an old-time, dramatic situation; Albus and Scorpius had died still believing in their cause, no matter how wrong they actually were. That act alone took an amount of bravery and dedication Harry hadn’t seen since the war. In their minds, they had been fighting for a better tomorrow.
At the thought, Harry’s chest tightened. Albus wouldn’t be able to see what he fought for, how his killers were brought to true justice. His life was a life wasted; there was absolutely no excuse for Albus’s death. Before the attack on the warehouse the group had hidden in, Harry made it very clear the Aurors weren’t to use anything but Stunners. Albus and Scorpius were only nineteen, hardly even adults, and the rest were at most a year older, some much younger. They were not dangerous; fifty fully trained Aurors should have had no trouble overpowering twenty children.
What haunted Harry the most was that he couldn’t even save his son. He was supposed to be in charge of the Aurors, but none had listened to him. And so the face of Albus moments before his death haunted Harry at night, and he couldn’t seem to shake the calm acceptance his son seemed to have. He didn’t even flinch.
Guilt settled on Harry’s chest once more. He hadn’t spoken to Albus in a year, not after he left. Before his son left without so much as a word to anyone, Harry had tried to stop him from going through with this, but Albus refused see the flaw in his logic. It was Albus, after all; he had the combined stubbornness of himself and Ginny. Facing down the bleeding Ministry couldn’t change his mind.
The image Harry wanted to remember of his son was the glimpse he saw of Rose and Albus. Sending Rose in to talk to his son had been Harry’s last-ditch attempt to stop the violence, to talk some sense before it spiraled out of control. But in the brief moments Albus and Rose shared, Harry could see the love and the kindness in his son that he thought had been lost when Albus became the leader. It was a type of love Harry hadn’t seen in a long time. It was pure. It didn’t startle him, considering they were cousins, and in truth, he had known how Rose felt. Anyone could see why she worked so hard to change his mind, how she never gave up on him.
Slowly, Harry tore his eyes away from the vacant building. The abandoned street looked so different in the sunlight, and the site was still littered with flowers and pictures of the three who had fallen. It was then Harry knew his son’s tiny uprising would never be forgotten; the accidental battle was something that would forever stain history with the blood spilt.
Some tiny buds were peeking out between the cracks of the concrete slabs, almost exactly where Albus had made his final stand. If it was possible, Harry would never leave this place. Instead, he’d sit there and cry, to try to find some way to let Albus know he loved him, but he was gone. So after he enlarged the flowers, as a reminder of the undiluted good that lived in his son, a hand appeared on his shoulder, letting him know it was time to leave again.
Hastily, Harry wiped the tears from his face, trying to regain control of his emotions. They’d all be mourning Al for a long time to come, because he wasn’t just a revolutionary. Albus was Harry’s son, a brother, a cousin, a friend, and no matter what his choices, he would be missed. Lily hadn’t said more than two words at a time since Albus’s funeral, and James still spent most of his time staring out the window when he wasn’t burying himself with work. Ginny was taking it the worst of all; there was hardly a thing that didn’t set her off anymore, and at night she thrashed with nightmares. Realizing whose hand it was, though, Harry knew he needn’t have bothered hiding the tears. The girl before him was letting hers fall freely.
–I miss him so much. I loved him,†she choked out, and Harry wrapped her in his arms.
–I know, Rose.â€
The skies begin to clear
And I’m at rest
A breath away from where you are