The rain always amazed him. It could easily take the most gruesome and terrible scene and just wash it clean again. Staring out over the field, he could scarcely tell that there had been an epic battle on the very spot he stood. The hollow in the rocks was filled with sparkling water now, but whenever he glanced toward it's shimmering surface, all he could see was the blood. This was where they had found them, still clinging to each other like they were merely asleep, or in some secret embrace that the others had simply stumbled upon by accident.
It had taken them no time to identify the bodies. If there was any doubt in any of their minds as to who the male truly was, the shock of ginger hair and crooked horn-rimmed glasses quickly quelled any doubts. Percy Weasley lay there, dead. The girl would have been more difficult to identify, perhaps, if not for the boy beside her. Brushing back the bushy brown hair had revealed a small, delicate face. The face belonged to Hermione Granger.
Harry Potter sat down, then laid down, on the spot where their bodies had rested. He settled down, seemingly deep in thought as the blood trickled down, staining the pool red once more.
Author's Ending Note: This was written in response to the reviews that I received about how the ending was a bit confusing. I know I like writing mysterious endings, so I will clarify this one as well. Harry, one of the last survivors of his schoolmates, kills himself