May 2, 1998

Where the evergreen hedges met olive trees, a pained bluebird lay squealing, pecking at its broken wing. A young girl with familiar black hair watched the tiny creature from a foot away.

Juniper Black saw a flash of a younger version of herself, who was unsure of what to do with the bird. It happened for a millisecond in her mind, though long enough to recognize it for what it was. For once in the life she’s lived as a witch, she finally remembered something of her past. She grinned to herself, encouraged by the memory of her youth.

More than any of the other reasons she’d listed, so long ago, this moment convinced her of the fate she was running towards.

An argument had been had, debated ’til it was no longer in discussion between herself and her trusted house-elf. This thing that she was eager to run to was opposed by her elf. Despite the little thing’s protests, June persisted. Her reasoning and determination would remain unbreakable.

The length of time in which the decision was made took only a month. Meanwhile, the idea had taken her all the years she’d studied at Hogwarts to formulate. From the beginning, June had been quite sure of herself surer than anything she’d ever decided in her entire life. And she’d lived quite a long life.

Only two knew of this decision, herself and her elf. She could tell no one else and expected her elf to remain forever silent.

She took off at a running start through corridors, whizzing past duels and flying spells, and up countless flights of stairs that fateful day. Her hair whipped side to side, tied back by a velvety yellow ribbon. It was the only color she wore apart from the colors of her tie and house emblem.

Her mind wandered to counting the steps to keep her eyes on the prize, so to speak, but some steps were practically chiseled off by wayward spells.

As she ran past tapestries, it made her remember about secret passages she used to hide in. She wondered if Hogwarts would remember her. How would it remember her? Can a building have memories? She glanced at the walls, blurred quiet paintings hung as she ran full force forward. The images of famous wizards and witches were most likely piled in one central image that enabled them to watch the warlike spectacle.

She thought she’d do the same after everything was done and over with.

She’d taken into consideration the miles of running she’d have to do and ran a lot in practice. She trained as a track star, like the fastest man. But could never get rid of her clumsiness.

The last step, jagged by a battle no longer in session, forced her to heave a leg up. A particularly sharp protruding edge caught a bit of her skin. This, she would remember as her last wound of the war.

June paused at the top, a little out of breath and dizzy from all the thoughts running through her head. She must have brushed back her hair a million times before finally heading towards the Room of Requirements, heart-pounding, and tears ready to burst.

The doors to the secret room opened, vomiting out three imbeciles and the Golden Trio. The blaze of the Fiendfyre was a burst of warmth. She’d almost been distracted by the beauty of such a deadly spell when she noticed the six before her in a short staring battle.

She cleared her throat as she made her way to the unruly brunette.

Unclear of her intentions, the boy June called Ron-Won before he even knew what it meant, whipped his wand out to her.

“Don’t you hurt her!”

June could only smile as she whispered something to Hermione.

Only a few more moments now.

The girls looked at one another before June pulled herself back and smiled again. She backed up, refusing to face away from the six of them.

When it all happened, it probably hadn’t been as drawn out as they all remembered it to be. As soon as she took six steps, she was gone.

With a smile plastered on, she spun away and yet again, took off running. Where she ran to, there was laughter, not the first of many jokes to later be exchanged, and red hairs. Her last step landed her right before the taller one of the two immersed in a conversation.

“Hey,” was the only thing she could say from the long speech June had written that past month before her back met the pangs of a spell. If it had been any other spell, she may have seen the rubble from the fallen wall collapse on her.

It ended just like it should have with her smile frozen and forever etched in the minds of those who saw her draw her last breath. She had done the deed she’d promised at the very beginning. She saved the one person she was meant to save all along and paid with her own life. And the lone little elf, who knew before the event’s transpiration, cried the whole year through, grieving the loss of a friend.

Juniper Black, a beloved sister, eccentric, and clumsy friend laughed last at the age of 18. She took with her three things: the only memory of her childhood, a silver bracelet, and the scent of strawberries.

To others, on the seventh floor died a young witch who betrayed her house.