Burning Love

•Grief•

In the months following Voldemort's disappearance, the Ministry of Magic had turned its focus to capturing the remaining Death Eaters who had scattered in the chaos. I threw myself into the work with relentless determination. Each day began with a sense of purpose; I joined forces with other Aurors, strategizing and executing operations to track down the remnants of the dark forces that had terrorized our world.

My skills as an Animagus proved invaluable, allowing me to scout areas undetected and gather critical intelligence. The praise I received from my superiors was a small comfort in the midst of my overwhelming grief. They spoke of my bravery and tenacity, but each commendation felt like a double-edged sword. While I was proud of my contributions, it served as a reminder of the friends I had lost and the void they left behind.

Every evening, after the long hours of work, I returned home to an emptiness that clung to me like a shadow. The house, though beautiful and peaceful, echoed with the laughter of memories I could no longer reach. I often found myself sitting by the river, staring into the flowing water, wishing for a moment that I could talk to James and Lily, to hear their voices one more time.

But the nightmares haunted me, relentlessly pulling me back to that fateful night. I would wake, heart racing, drenched in sweat, the echoes of spells and the cries of anguish filling my ears. In those dark hours, I often cried, wishing desperately for Sirius to be beside me, to share the weight of it all. I felt so alone in my sorrow, and his absence was a gaping wound that refused to heal.

During the day, I wore a mask of strength, pushing through the pain and focusing on the mission. But at night, when the world was quiet, the memories would flood back—the laughter at our last gathering, the warmth of friendship, and the sudden, devastating loss. I found myself praying every night for Harry's safety, hoping that he was surrounded by love, even as I fought my own fears.

The thought of finding Harry filled me with conflicting emotions. I longed to be there for him, to protect him, and to tell him about his wonderful parents. But the fear of seeing James and Lily in him was paralyzing. I feared that the resemblance would break me, that I would collapse under the weight of my grief, overwhelmed by the memories that could not be contained.

Instead, I channeled my love for them into my work, capturing Death Eaters and ensuring that their tyranny would not return. I became a steadfast ally to my fellow Aurors, drawing on my knowledge and experience to support them in their efforts. Each capture felt like a small victory, a step toward reclaiming a world that had been stolen from us.

Yet, in quiet moments, the tears would come. I'd find myself alone, the memories crashing down like waves, each one a reminder of everything I had lost. I knew I needed to stay strong for the future—for Harry, for Remus, for the hope of a brighter tomorrow. And so, with each tear, I whispered promises to my lost friends: that I would carry their legacy, that I would protect their son, and that I would continue to fight against the darkness that threatened to engulf us all.