Author's Note – Just a small, angsty type scene. Disclaimer – I still do not own HP – JKR does.
He lingered at the scene for several minutes after the others had departed. The Auror stared blindly at the spot where two bodies had so recently lain. The image burned into his brain, his temper tightening even further.
How? How do I tell Molly Weasley that her little brothers are never coming home?
The twin brothers, united in death even as they had been inseparable in life, had been tortured – played with by the Death Eaters - those thrice-damned followers of that blood-snob, so-called "Lord" Voldemort. Fabian and Gideon had each taken out a handful or more of their attackers before sheer numbers had overwhelmed them. The evidence showed that. The Order, indeed the very forces of Light, had lost two of their best warriors this day.
Two more gone. God, how many more do we have to lose? How do we stop this madman?
Kneeling at the edge of the crime scene, he took a pinch of the bloody dirt and sealed it in a small vial. It mingled with similar material from the various other scenes that he had stood and mourned over. Each pinch began adding up, the vial slowly filling up, his anger and pain growing each time. Every portion of it was a constant reminder of the justice that needed extracting from the "Dark Lord" and his sycophantic followers. No one else knew of this little custom of his.
Padfoot suspects something, and I'd be surprised if Moony hasn't put it together. Damn werewolf sense of smell.
He snorted, eyes lightening for a moment in rare humor. It was a reminder of better times, before graduation, before they became responsible for trying to help save the world.
All I had to worry about then was getting Lily's attention…in a good way!
Even as the thought of his wife brought a small smile to his lips, thunder crashed overhead. Lifting his eyes, he stared at the swirling clouds above. A bad storm was brewing…it was already here and about to get worse. Shaking his head, he stood and brushed off his clothes.
The storm's here all right. I'm not sure bad describes it. I swear, one day there will be a reckoning. One day, Voldemort will pay for every drop of blood, every tear, every scream he has ever caused. One day.
As James Potter apparated away, a snatch of a verse from Lily's favorite author came to mind.
And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge,
With Ate by his side come hot from hell,
Shall in these confines with a monarch's voice
Cry 'Havoc,' and let slip the dogs of war;
That this foul deed shall smell above the earth
With carrion men, groaning for burial.