And The Second War
Rain poured down onto the people in black, everyone was on edge. Something was expected to happen by the people, though it was a simple funeral.
Rain.
Nearer the people in black, standing, silent, waiting. But the air seemed to be filled with anger and frustration rather than grief. Something wasn�t right.
Black.
Black was the coffin that slowly lowered to the ground as people watched in disbelief. Tears flowed, though none knew it in the heavy rain.
The air seemed heavy, and the people�s shoulders sagged down with the weight of oppression. People approached the coffin and placed upon it flowers of black.
War.
The second war had brought great change to these people. These people were in need of hopes and dreams in times of despair. And the death of their hope brought their heads dangling down, depressed.
End.
They knew no end would come to the ones they stood against, but they were sure an end would come to them.
�Here we lay to rest, Harry Potter. The boy, who lived, lives no more. He has been consumed by the weakness of his mind, and soul. Dark times await us all. But we know that his dark times are gone, he is at peace. We are greatly puzzled by his death, for his body has not been found and his death is filled with obscurity, the glory of Harry potter has passed��
People then left silently in bewilderment, the edge had dulled. The expectance of evil deeds in the air seemed to dampen in the rain.
Rain.
Black.
War.
End.
Rain had brought blackness to the war torn hearts of those waiting for their own end�
Continued
