the last verse ; harry potter [2]

thirty one ; a death scene

Diana Riddle, the Girl Who Died, found herself in darkness.

An endless void, as far as the eye could see in any direction. It was nothingness, or maybe it was everything. She couldn't tell the difference anymore.

Footsteps echoed like a rock thrown in a pond, rippling rippling rippling closer with each little step. It echoed like chorus hymns in a church. Closer and closer they got until a pinprick in the distance was coming forth, closer and closer and closer until a spotlit figure dressed in purple emerged.

There were more footsteps now. They echoed and ricocheted off of the darkness like misfire bullets. It was an army's march now, until figures from all around her came closer and closer, enclosing her in a circle. Their faces were blank and blurry, no noses or eyes or mouths. Just blank canvasses on sculpted bodies.

There was a grand sound, like someone pulling the lever to turn on spotlights. In the blink of an eye, they were no longer blank canvasses.

Around her, the dead watched.

Dumbledore, clad in a light blue cloak, his long beard glistening, was watching her with a watery, proud smile. She choked a sob, her words dying at her throat, her eyes burning. She looked at them all; there was Fred Weasley, a solemn smile on his playful lips. There was Dobby, his limbs and head covered in endless colorful socks, a large smile upon his face. Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks stood hand in hand, sympathetic smiles as they made eye contact with her. They nodded in unison, all of their words held in the single action, all of their questions and answers: please take care of our son, and please take care of Harry and you have been so brave.

Regulus and Sirius Black watched her. Long time no see, Sirius mouthed to her. A tear fell onto her hand. Long time no see. She looked at Regulus: with a thankful smile, he gave her a meaningful nod. Thank you for finishing what I started.

And next to Sirius, as she made eye contact with them, she could no longer hold her sob in her throat. James and Lily Potter, as young and beautiful as she had always imagined them, looked at her with overpowering emotions. She could not help her legs as they began to move; she made her way to the elder Potters until she stood before them. She could see the light dust of freckles across Lily's nose and cheekbones, and she could see the careless smudges across James's glasses, old smudges that had never been wiped away. She thought back to the night they were murdered: only twenty one years old, just barely grown. They were practically children when Voldemort murdered them. They had their entire lives ahead of them.

Lily reached out and held her hand.

"You've been so brave."

Diana gave them her best watery smile that she could muster. She put her other hand over Lily's.

James put a strong hand on her shoulder.

"Thank you, Diana, for protecting him when we could not."

Next to Lily and James Potter, she found herself staring into the eye of Alastor Moody.

"Good God, Kid. Look at the mess you've gotten yourself into."

She hugged him. Surprisingly, she felt his hand on her back as well. She cried into his gruff jacket, as he muttered awkward words of encouragement to her. After he could not take it any longer, he pulled away, but he kept his hands on her shoulders.