There are two types of women during a war. There are the ones who believe that they're doing something right, that their world will be repaired, and they will be the ones to repair it, with their bandages and their gardens, and their cheerful smiles to every soldier that walks past their home.
And then there are the ones who believe that nothing can save them, that the bodies pile up all around them, that the flowers are trampled underneath, and that innocence and justice fall by the wayside when weapons are drawn and commands given.
Many of the girls began the war cheerful. They waved their wands and practiced their hexes and brewed their potions, smiling and humming the one song the Weird Sisters released in support of Dumbledore and his war as they worked.
Only a few were silent, hiding in the corners, tears in their eyes as they talked in the faintest of whispers with the teachers and the heroes, reminding them of the cost of each battle. That one took him, the other one took her, the papers said one thing and the looks on their faces said another...
Each time an owl dropped a black-edged letter on the table, another girl would grow silent.
This Harry Potter story was written by Kate Bolin. If you liked it, there's plenty more at http://www.dymphna.net/fanfic/. And you can feedback her at dymphna@dymphna.net.