The Real Savior
Amelie Rae Lanhoss
[A/N-I don't have writer's block for E. M.(I actually have the next four chapters planned out in detail), I just can't seem to get my wording right. Anyways, this'll be really short, only 3 chapters. Dedicated, in loving memory always, to K.M.L.
Chapter 1- Remember Then?
Welcome, dear reader, to the Room of Requirement - or rather - the Room of My Requirements. Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Samantha Fawcett. You've never heard of me? I'm not surprised.
Do you remember when Voldemort fell? Yes? In that case, do you recall the Daily Prophet article afterwards, the one listing 'all' the names of those 'involved' in the Last Battle? You do? Here is a secret, that list is a lie.
It claims to know about everyone who was there, everyone who fought, it does not. Do you know how that list came about? No? Ah, I didn't think you would. You must forgive me if I sound ridiculously pleased, it's part of my Ravenclaw nature to be delighted when an assumption proves correct. I hope I'm not being presumptuous when I make the guess that you are now wondering how that list came about.
The day after the Last Battle, or the 'Wizarding World's Triumph', as one reporter called it, Ministry owls were sent to every name on the list of members for the Order and Dumbledore's Army, along with everyone who was known to be in Hogsmeade that day, asking each person if they had partaken in the final conflict and if they had would they please submit their name and photo to the Daily Prophet? Needless to say it would have been practically impossible for one person to know the names of everyone there that day, so no one really knows what everyone did.
I can, however, confidently tell you that Wayne Hopkins, who I know hid in the basement of Honeydukes during the whole 7 hours, definitely did not deserve the Order of Merlin Second Class for 'Services Rendered To The Public'. I know he was hiding there because my friend Lisa Turpin was hiding with him; she didn't receive an award for being close to the fighting and living. It's also incredibly obvious that the Daily Prophet preformed no background check on the submissions, Daphne Greengrass, a known Death Eater, was set to win an Order of Merlin First Class before the editor recognized her name. My little brother, age twelve, submitted his name on a dare from Stewart Ackerley and was presented with an Order of Merlin Third Class for 'Bravery In The Face Of A Known Danger'. I know of at least ten other people, off the top of my head, which were rewarded with Order of Merlin's they neither earned nor deserved. Another notable story is that of Dedalus Diggle who accepted an Order of Merlin Second Class, also for 'Services Rendered To The Public'. How he was able to fight Death Eaters in Hogsmeade while off on a second honeymoon in Hawaii, I doubt I'll ever know.
There is, of course, the opposite side of the spectrum, the side where people who actually did do something, myself included, didn't inform the Daily Prophet. But, before that, there is a middle ground, where the people who only took credit for what they did, stand. Alastor Moody, Lee Jordan, Eddie Carmichael, Kassandra Bundy, Mandy, and my future husband (who jumped at the chance to be known) just to name a few. Oh! How could I have forgotten? And Albus Dumbledore, though I do not believe he knows whom his statement 'I mentored the young man who finally brought down Voldemort' truly refers to. I am sure he is...secure in the knowledge that Harry Potter 'vanquished the Dark Lord', as is the rest of the world. But you cannot blame them too much, dear reader; to the best of my understanding there is a grand total of three people alive today, including myself, who know the real savior of the wizarding world. The Savior, as I have dubbed him in my head, seems content to let Harry Potter bask in his glory. Actually, The Savior seems plainly content these days, much more so than when I was his student. This is, undoubtedly, due to The Angel staying with him. I am glad, everyone deserves some happiness, The Savior included, and after everything The Angel has given up for him, she too deserves happiness. Their love story is not well known, but, to those who do know it, witch, muggle, and heavenly being, it will forever remain timeless. I must apologize, I am probably confusing you now, you needn't worry, it will become clear soon.
I didn't mean to sound bigheaded when I made the comment that I 'did do something' but 'didn't inform the Daily Prophet', but it is true. I was most certainly not that important in the grand scheme of things but I did help, my partner and I took down our share of Death Eaters after all. Aberforth Dumbledore and Blaise Zabini, surprisingly enough, are two people, other than myself, who I saw fight and who I know deserve Order of Merlin's, though both will repeatedly tell you, in no uncertain terms, that they were no where near Hogsmeade during all of the battle. Very un-Slytherin-like behavior from Blaise Zabini, but then again, The Savior is Head of Them and he has not stepped forward and said he was even there. The Angel has also said nothing, though she is most definitely not a Slytherin.
I had wondered often why Hermione Granger had been Sorted to Gryffindor; to me she seemed so obviously Ravenclaw-ish that I didn't understand. You must remember, however, that these were all my feelings before the Battle. During the Battle, when I had a rare moment to simply look around at the fighting, I understood why Hermione Granger was a Gryffindor. She was not foolishly brave, like Ron Weasley...I must apologize again, some days it all seems so recent that I forget all that is said about not speaking ill of the dead. May I continue? Thank you. She was not foolishly brave, like the stereotypical modern Gryffindor, but as she dueled you could see a nobler type of bravery that seemed to belong better in Godric Gryffindor's time, or, as Anthony would say, a true Gryffindor. Her bravery belonged in the Angel's first time.
Oh! I'm only just now noticing! I have wasted almost a full foot of parchment on inane details that have little, if any, impact on the story I set out to tell, I apologize, dear reader, and thank you for being so patient with me.
I originally set out to tell the true version of the 'Wizarding World's Triumph' (I am the...how did the seraph put it again?..Oh yes, the Chosen One) and instead got completely sidetracked. There is, after all, a reason we are sitting in these comfortable, blue armchairs, in front of a warm fire and next to a small wooden end table supporting a stone bowl of silvery stuff in the Room of Requirement - forgive me - the Room of My Requirements. The stone bowl, is, of course, a Pensieve, and the silvery stuff swimming inside? Memories. I suppose you are now wondering why I need all this - why I require it. It's all very simple, you see, the armchairs because after standing up straight for hours, just so Madam Malkin can readjust my wedding robes, again, has left me quite tired, they are comfortable for this same reason and blue for my House. The fire is there because, in case you haven't noticed, even in late September it is chilly here at Hogwarts. The table serves no other purpose than to support the Pensieve, some parts of this story are complicated and even I feel confused about some things, though they are my memories. I felt it would be easier to show you instead of try to explain it.
I've definitely blathered on and on more than enough, thank you again for being so patient with me. If you are ready? Yes? Take my hand and we will dip into the Pensieve here, it won't take long, I only placed my memories of the Battle's last hour here. Go on, take my hand...oh no, here comes Mandy, no doubt she has found another tiny detail in the wedding preparations that I missed. I suppose we have to part here...pity, I was so looking forward to telling someone the truth. Perhaps we can meet here again sometime? Perhaps tomorrow? Perhaps in the afternoon? I will see you then, dear reader, and we can dip into my memories later, I believe I have given you enough to ponder already.
Until tomorrow, my dear reader.