From the AshesI could remember when my boots were new and polished. They were of the finest leather in all of Florence, a fortune even to look upon. But now, they had been stained a dull brown, the brown of dried blood. Scuff marks marred their gleam further as I waded through the debris of the castle. Surely, I had done some of this damage myself.
Though, I had not killed. The row of fifty strong, all dead of different causes, had not been added to by my wand. It was a wand I was still uncomfortable with, a wand that could never replace the one Voldemort had destroyed. I walked along the row all the same, searching for someone much more important than a man, woman, or child that could have died by my hand.
These faces, I knew some of them. Their names eased over my lips as I walked beyond them, only the soft recognition in my voice of their identity sounding in my mind. "Remus Lupin." Not Draco. "Nymphadora Tonks." Not Draco. "Fred Weasley." Not Draco. "Colin Creevey." <
Auspex, a Neville fanfic
The shingles are uncomfortable, especially due his jeans. They are old and ripped in their most abused places the knees, mostly, though the back pockets were battered enough to hold neither wand nor wallet and worn thin by time. No longer a strong, protective material, he isn't sure why he has kept them. They are an artifact of the past year, and even a well-aimed Tergeo had barely been able to take the blood and the dirt out of the rugged material.
His feet hurt, too, as he walks across the roof of his grandmother's house. It is still damp from a summer storm, not entirely passed. Even in July, the Isles remain soggy. How long ago had the drought been? He thinks back to it the grass that looked like rolling hills of wheat as the Hogwarts Express carried him home the on September 1st of his fifth year. Since that moment, too much has happened. He stands here a changed man, only one year later. A man not a boy. Now, he can brave the world, he admonishes. As h