hi! i wanted to get something up for may 2nd, and i know this is really short but i've been having major harry potter block recently. to all those who died in the battle of hogwarts.

Spells flying everywhere. Screams of despair as loved ones hit the cold stone floor and landed amongst the rubble. The way time moved so, so quickly but slowed down and stood still as a green jet of light came rushing in your direction. With all the danger, you would never have expected little Colin Creevey to be there. Well, he wasn't really that little any more. He'd grown up a lot since his days when he was utterly obsessed with the Boy Who Lived. Dumbledore's army had taught him a lot. Although seemingly not enough.

He was on the run with his brother when he'd felt the coin in his pocket. Under the assumption that he'd lost it the previous year, he was surprised when he saw it on his bedside the day before he'd ran away. But he realised that the old galleon with a protean charm on it gave him hope. Hope that lead him to his death.

But he didn't regret it. No, not for one second did he regret falling down outside the Hogwarts door that night when he heard Harry Potter had returned. Part of him, the little boy he still was inside, wanted to see his hero once more. Although he didn't mind, that much, when he didn't. He'd been forced to grow up, after all. Leaving little Dennis, only 15 years old (although he'd had to grow up, too) behind in the world of the living was more painful than death itself. But he brought that Death Eater down, too. That meant one less murderer in the castle, at least. And one less place at the Gryffindor table.

Colin hadn't seen Hogwarts in a long time, though. Hadn't sat at that table where he first saw the great Harry Potter and, for once in his life, although overwhelmed at this brand new world, felt at home.

He'd had to watch his home being destroyed as he tried to protect it from the harm that brought his downfall, never to see its magic restored. He never got to watch the war end, either. Never even got to see what he died for. He could have been taking photographs for the daily prophet (he'd never lost his love for taking pictures), or become the Minister for Magic, even. But it does not do to dwell on dreams. He knew that, deep down.

But he couldn't help but think to himself that maybe little Colin Creevey shouldn't have been there, after all.