It was nearly a year after the battle that the formal memorial ceremony was held for the dead. Indeed, the fallout from that summer struggle was massive. Muggles were exposed to magic in a large and egregious way. Some dealt. Others dealt retribution against the "abominations to God/nature/decency." It left a bitter taste in many wizarding mouths to realize that, when concerning the nature of muggles, in some ways Riddle had been right after all. So when Albus Dumbledore asked for the names of all the deceased death eaters to be included on the engraving of the memorial tablet to be placed at the site of the last battle, there were few serious objections.

Wizards of all stature stood now in the field as new Minister of Magic Arthur Weasely read a short eulogy for those departs from this world. Many were crying. Some had gathered bouquets of the freshly regrown wildflowers to lie at the foot of the massive stone. Those who had survived the battle could hardly recognize where they stood.

When Draco Malfoy had thrown himself in from of the killing curse meant for Harry Potter, he'd unwittingly become a channel, a live wire for the curse and his own power directly into his estranged love. Like Lily's sacrifice before, the results were devastating. The sheer force of power, amplified by Harry's own rage and grief killed all three instantly and leveled most of the field. Many enemies died alongside allies in the vicious, untamed blast. Only wizards and witches on the outskirts were spared, despite being painfully relocated several dozen feet away.

The field had grown back though, over ground scorched clean of all traces of battle from bodies to broken wands. The fallout was almost nuclear in its immensity, so much panic, confusion, so many injuries. Such worldwide grief was felt for their losses, so many surviving death-eaters to be prosecuted. So many families left behind.

By dusk the field had cleared, the new monument heaped in remembrances of the past. Albus is the last one left. He sees so many names he knows on the face of the granite slab. Some friends, some foes, and all he'd once known and cherished. So many bright stars winked out. Weasely, Creevey, Chang, Parkinson, Goyle, Macmillan, Black, Lestrange…

At the top of the rock is where his gaze rests, unwavering.

Harry Potter

Draco Malfoy

Tom Riddle

Albus had insisted that the latter be included. He believed in mourning lost innocence and lost chances. So many had died. So many too young.

-They should have lived.-

The years weigh heavier now on Albus than ever before and soon he feels he will see his lost ones again in a place beyond. Perhaps Nicholas Flamel would be up for a chat?

Albus dissapparates with a -POP- only seconds before the sky above opens and begins its own wet mourning.