[OS] Beneath

I still remember that day. The beginning of when I said goodbye to everything...

A cruel wind whipped through the trees that winter day. Grey skies above and snow beneath our feet. It was truly the perfect setting for such an occasion. After all, could anyone truly withstand the irony if a funeral occured on a sunny day with birds singing and trees dancing in the wind? Yes, it was a perfect setting.

The last words of some wizard of significance was swallowed by the howling wind as he moved away from the podium which stood beside the grave. I can truly say I do not remember a single word he say. Some might think it disrespectful of me. However, I think it's disrespectful of the Minister of Magic, barely in his position for more than 72 hours, giving a speech about a war he thought he knew everything of and people he knew nothing about.

The war did come and it did go. It lasted for seven odd years before the fated hero defeated the Dark Lord; six if you're counting from after he was supposed to graduate from Hogwarts. And what did he gain from it? A deathbed. He survived a miraculous 81 hours after the war. Miraculous how? With his post-war injuries, he was fated to survive barely 81 minutes. That's why he was a fighter. That's why he was our hero. That's why I'm still proud of him.

The war produced a death count in the hundred thousands from the Magical word alone. Aurors were depleted by only 10%; almost all magical creatures have been declared extinct, now legends to both muggle and magical children alike. The worst of the death count for a concentrated area is of Hogwarts. Only three staff members are left: Professor Binns --naturally--; Professor Flitwick and myself, Remus J. Lupin. I had return to Hogwarts after the death of Albus Dumbledore. Besides staff, the student population was depleted by more than half. The current Minister of Magic never even breathed the air of a duelfield during the war, while hundreds of students had to die against their will.

The ironic thing was that they died on their way home. The war had been declared halfway through the second term and Professor McGonagall, Headmistress at the time, declared it best the students return home since Hogwarts had always been a target in the past years, even when the first war arose before Harry was born. Moments before the Hogwarts Express neared Kings Cross Station, it was attacked by Death Eaters and Dementors alike. When the red train pulled to a stop at Platform 9¾, it was practically full of the remains and blood of students. By the time Aurors arrived to fight off the Death Eaters and Dementors, the student population had been decreased by a heartwrenching 85% in total.
10%... 85%. These are just numbers. Numbers masking the names of the dead. I blame the Minister for using these numbers and for masking their names.

As the crowd before me slowly make their way up to the rebuilt castle of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, I walked from my hiding place up to the monument grave the Minister was standing beside and I knelt before the great marble slab. Pulling off the glove of my right hand, I ran my numbing fingers over each name of the staff that died in the war or because of the war. Below were the numerous amount of names of the students and Aurors on that fateful day, now known as the Hogwarts Massacre. Lastly, my fingertips run along near the top of the monument, where the names of the three children who fought Voldemort the last day of the war were engraved.

"Professor Lupin, I didn't notice you were here,"

Silently slipping on my glove, I stood up to face the Minister of Magic. He was a fool of a man and I was glad I never knew him previously to his term as Minister. He stood shorter than me with short brown hair and clear blue eyes which held no experience.

"It was my intention to not be noticed by anyone," I replied,

He nodded then looked down at the monument, "Vast number of names, hmm? I reckon I can remember at least half of that staff list from my days at Hogwarts."

"And I reckon you don't know a threstral about the rest of those names,"

"Don't you degrade me Professor Lupin. I may not know their names and I may not have fought in the war, but it gives you no right to degrade me!" The minister huffed, attempting to make himself taller than me.

"That gives me every right to degrade you! You stood on that podium, giving sympathies to families about their children you knew nothing about. You talked about the dark times of the war when you know nothing about darkness. You talk of the deaths as mere numbers. But damnit, they're more than numbers! They're people!" I ague at him.

"You speak superior towards me of my not knowing these people. I know of your merits, as both a duelist and as a professor. I know of your favoured teaching techniques and of the dark secret that was released almost a decade ago. I even know of that mass-murderer who you once called friend. We all have our grievances Professor Lupin, so I suggest you don't talk down to me!" He threatened.

Without conscious thought, I picked him up by the collar and threw him down at the foot of the monument. I pointed to a name, "Susan Bones, her aunt worked for the ministry." I pointed to another name, "Seamus Finnigan. He had an affinity of blowing things up, his witch mother and muggle father died a year prior to his death." Another name and dragged my finger along the column a few names up, "Gregory Goyle, Pansy Parkinson, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zambini, Christa Hartwick, Leonard Delfins, Sherridan Jacobs. All Slytherins. All sons and daughters of Death Eaters. All fates pre-determined despite some of their protests. All died in the Hogwarts Massacre."

"So you know the students, you've been their teacher," he argueed feebly,

Another name, "Kingsley Shacklebolt. Auror and member of the Order of the Phoenix." I ran my finger along a few more names before stopping and paused before speaking. "Stephana Chant, Orion McCallaster, Sybil Star, Ryan Feez, Lionel Kane... Nymphadora Tonks... All Aurors. All fighting for the lives of innocent children. All died in the Hogwarts Massacre." I pointed to the names at the top of the monument, "Hermione Granger, top of her class, muggleborn. Ronald Weasley, master at wizards' chess, the last of his clan. Harry Potter, a quidditch star, a hero to the world. All friends. All fought Voldemort the last day of the war. All children."

"They were 23!" He stammered,

"Damnit, you fool! It doesn't matter that they were 23 when they died! They encountered Voldemort as children, they entered the war as children and they died as children! You can't keep putting numbers to people you know nothing of!" I breathed heavily, forcing myself to calm down, "You just don't understand the lives beneath the stories."

"I had to say goodbye to a number of collegues in the war!" He defended,

"And I had to say goodbye to everything."

Before he could say a word, I walked up to the castle, straight to my office.

It was nearing night before I heard a knock at my door. I muttered a permission for that person to enter. The door opened and in walked Mad-Eye Moody. He had been out of St. Mungo's a day and here he was in my office. I offered him a seat and he accepted. He stared at me for the longest time before talking,

"I know you think the Minister's a fool, heck I do too. But there's no point in venting anger on him," Moody said gruffly.

I didn't reply.

He was silent a moment, examinating me, before standing up to leave. He paused at the door, "Giving up isn't the strongest thing to do. But a wizard's got to do what a wizard's got to do. Goodbye Remus."

As the door closed behind him, I subtly contemplated that that was the first time he had ever called me by my first name alone.

"Goodbye Alastair."

---

That day was the last day I set foot in Hogwarts. And this is the last day I shall stand on these grounds.

It has been a month since the war ended and almost a week since that last day in Hogwarts. Here I stand in the cold winter evening, before the marble monument. I feel a streak of pain run through my body and I look towards the skies. The time is soon. I run a hand over the names once more and feel tears fall freely down my numbed face. It has been a total of 13 hours I have been standing before this monument. Each name my fingers feel, a face flashes in my mind. Another pain. Sharper, longer, everlasting this time. The wind blows around me, engulfs me and I can feel my bones freezing over from the cold. I don't shiver. I'm beyond shivering. Yes, shivering stopped about 10 ½ hours ago.

I bring my fingers to my cold lips. Pressing them to my lips, I then bring them down to the name of one who preferred to be called Tonks. More pain. My eyes race to the sky and I can feel that familiar heavenly face coming to greet me in the night sky. Hands falling to hold myself, I fall to my knees. Transformations were never good to begin with, but I had learned to rely on Snape's potion. This familiar pain is hell to me once more. I feel my mind slipping. I feel my body falling to the ground as the pain consumes me. I fight the urge to close my eyes and slip into the darkness of my animal mind. I see the names one last time. I see the moon. I see...

***

Mad-Eye Moody crossed himself after covering the body with a blanket. Looking sadly over the scene once, he sighed heavily before sending a post to the Minister of Magic. After doing so, he looked again at the note he found in the deceased's pocket:

Death has always been a natural occurance in the world and people have always naturally delt with it. However, when death becomes an unnatural occurance, how are people - how am I - to deal with it?

James Potter. Sirius Black. Lily Evans.
A star. A rebel. A genius.
All friends.

Albus Dumbledore. Minerva McGonagall. Rubeus Hagrid.
A leader. A teacher. A gamekeeper.
All collegues and mentors.

Harry Potter. Ronald Weasley. Hermione Granger.
A misunderstood hero. A true friend. A brillant mind.
All students. All children.

Nymphadora Tonks.
The love of my life.

All names to some people. All legends to others. All memories to me.
Beneath each name is a story, a face, a history, a memory.
When all I love has died of unnatural circumstances, I deal it the way I see as best:

I join them.