In memory of the fallen during the Battle of Hogwarts.

The castle was quiet, not a sound was to be heard, not even a breeze lifted the penetrating silence in the courtyard. The shadows cast by the flickering lamps of the surrounding corridor danced against the stone pillars, seeming to come alive in the eerie quiet. A tall, dark, figure emerged from the darkness, almost as though one of the shadows had come to life. He made his way around the dark courtyard, avoiding puddles, twigs, and loose stones with an ease only able to be gained by someone who knew the layout of the small courtyard intimately.

He stopped in front of a large rock, one that most would pass daily without a second glance. It was an unassuming thing, partly covered with moss. It was the only one of it's kind in the entire castle though, the only memorial.

He was wearing a dark, matted, robe, and he was hunched over, his demeanor reading of one in pain. His blue eyes studied the rock, and after a moment he shook his sandy haired head, sinking to his knees in front of it. A pale hand reached out of his robes and gently pushed away the moss, with a clear knowledge of how the plant attached itself to surfaces.

Once the moss was moved he sat back on his haunches, his blue eyes seeming to glow in the dark night. He reached his hand back into his robe pockets and withdrew an oak wand.

"Lumos." He murmured in a deep voice. A light sprang at the tip of his wand, lighting the rock and the man. He had long scars on his face, scars that long years had done nothing to fade. He reached out with his free hand and brushed his fingers along the rock again, tracing the names engraved on it.

Lavender Brown, Colin Creevey, Michael Corner, Justin Finch-Fletchey, Nigel Wespurt, Fred Weasley… He let his hand trace along all the names, over fifty of them, and felt a tear fall out of his eye. He brushed it away roughly and withdrew his hand from the rock, lowering it so that it was on the moss again. He brushed it aside carefully, letting his hand clean off the plaque that was underneath it. He read the familiar words and fought another tear.

Dedicated to the memories of the brave souls who fought in the Battle of Hogwarts. Never give up hope, Dumbledore's Army: Stand Strong to the end!

"Dumbledore's Army." He mumbled, quoting what had become more than a name to him and the students at Hogwarts in 97-98. It had become their motto, their battle cry, their hope. He could still see their faces as they shouted it out in one chorus. He could hear their laughs, see their tears, feel their pains. They'd been put through hell that year, and they'd made it through together. They'd not had one casualty during the year. They'd had close calls, but they'd managed to save everyone. Save them until the last battle.

It still haunted his dreams, still woke him up screaming in a cold sweat. He'd have willingly given up his life for any of his soldiers-his friends, but he'd never gotten the chance. He'd fought so hard, but it still hadn't been enough. They'd still lost so many, so many friends!

The first breeze of the night ghosted across the courtyard, ruffling his hair and causing it to drift across his face, almost like someone was ruffling it. He closed his eyes tightly and let the tears fall, no longer fighting them.

It had been ten years, ten years since that fateful night and it still hurt. It hurt so much some days that he didn't know how he was able to go on. The memories never let up, they never faded, seeming to grow more intense instead. It was painful, but he was grateful for them. They were all he had left of them, all that was left of them. He embraced the pain because of that, it was the only reminder. If he let go of the pain, they might disappear from him forever. He couldn't lose them, he couldn't forget them.

He opened his eyes again, the tears still racing down his face as he looked at the rock again. The names were barely readable now, layers of graffiti-messages-had been placed atop them. Messages from the ones who had been left behind, messages to friends that had become more than brothers and sisters. A small smile threatened to lift his lips as he read some of them.

"Eternally up to no good-Gred and Forge forever." "Picture perfect to the end bro-Dennis" "Always in my heart-Pavarti" Every member that was still alive had written something. They'd had to, these were so much more than friends-all of them. The DA had developed a bond deeper than friendship, it was a bond forged by fire and blood, and nothing could break it. His blue eyes lifted from the plaque back to the names, reading them through his blurry tears.

His hand rose to his neck almost unconsciously, clutching the metallic object hidden beneath the folds of his robe as the names floated before his eyes.

He pulled it out and let the metal glint in his wand light. It was the original coin, he still wore it, all these years later and he still wore it. He ran his finger along the outside edge, which still bore the last message that they'd sent. Harry's back, it's time to fight, DA! His finger moved to the actual surface of the galleon, tracing the names he had engraved there. One for each member, fallen and alive. The coin was terribly worn, due to constantly being touched, stroked. It was his permanent reminder of what had happened, what had transgressed that night.

A permanent reminder of his constant pain.

The breeze flowed through the courtyard again, swirling around him and cooling him off in the warm night. Familiar scents were carried with it, reminding him of long meetings and late nights in the common room. He could almost hear their laughs as the twins told some joke. He could see Colin laughing at Seamus's immiatation of him mooning over Harry. He could hear Lavender chatting away to Pavarti excitedly, always eager to share the latest gossip. Tears filled his eyes at the vividness of the visions, shocking him by how powerfully happy they were. He couldn't remember the last time he had smiled when thinking of them.

How wrong was that? His soldiers, his friends, had been filled with more joy than he could fathom-and they'd been filled with it during the darkest war ever. They'd smiled in the face of death, and went on despite the evil that was everywhere. What would they think of him now, if they could see him? What would their reaction be if they could see how broken he had become. Fred would prank him, Lavender would smack him, Colin would frown and tell him to buck up. Michael would probably give him a complex equation about how a smile worked. They'd be dissapointed in him.

His hand reached into his robe, grasping the cold metal again, running his finger along the names. They wouldn't want him to remember him like this-with this terrible pain. They would want him to laugh.

They'd want him to live, and love, and laugh as hard as he could, giving a little bit extra for them. They'd want him to live every day like he was celebrating what they'd given everything to protect. They'd want them to stop living because of them, and start living for them. He knew he'd want each and everyone of them to live their life to the absolute fullest if it had been him.

He took off the galleon and placed the coin against the rock, in between the names. He mumbled a spell and it glowed a bright gold before fading away. The coin remained where the light had been, now permanently fastened to the simple rock. He leaned back on his haunches again and wiped the tears from his face again.

"A teenage gang indeed." He whispered, smiling at the memory. This was the first time he could ever remember coming here and smiling. It almost made him feel like he was betraying them, laughing at a marker of their graves.

But that wasn't right, not really. This wasn't to mark their graves, it was to mark their victory. Everyone's victory. It was made to be a rejoice of what they had achived, not a lament. They had beaten Voldemort, it had been at a terrible price, but they had done it! His friends would be furious if they saw him crying over this marker. They'd have been the first to tell him to go home and have a drink for them. They'd be the first to laugh and celebrate-the first to tell him to celebrate the life, not the death. He couldn't keep doing it, he couldn't keep bearing this pain. He was losing it even as he sat here. It was almost as if the breeze was blowing it away, making his load lighter, bearable.

He brushed the tears away again, feeling oddly lighter. He rose back up, standing and brushing off his dusty robes as he looked at the simple rock. He'd be back next year, but it would be different. He wouldn't be broken, not anymore. They'd done it. they'd succeeded in what they'd set out to do.

They'd brought down the darkest wizard of all time. A simple kids gang, they'd taken on and helped defeat him. They hadn't given in and they hadn't turned on each other- more than most of the adults could say.

He turned his back on the rock and headed back for the shadows, whistling an old tune he remembered his gran used to sing. As he reached the shadows he started to quietly sing the words, growing louder as he walked. "Though I know I'll never lose affection For people and things that went before I know I'll often stop and think about them…" He looked back over his shoulder one last time, smiling now as his memories filled him. Memories of laughter and joy, a joy that couldn't be stolen no matter what. A joy that lasted through everything. A joy he'd once again found.

"Dumbledore's Army, stand strong to the end."

A/N: That was tough to write, I almost always bring all those characters back to life... I think I'm going to have to write another story with them all happily celebrating Voldies death. I hope you all enjoyed, don't forget to review! The song is By the Beatles. Also, I promise that this is the one and only time I will ever write Fred as being dead. I did this solely for my husband becasue he requested it. As of now, Fred is back alive again :)