Chapter Text
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Do Not Own Harry Potter.
All Characters Appearing In This Work Are Fictitious. Any Resemblance To Real Persons, Living Or Dead Is Purely Coincidental.
Faults and Potentials
Two hours later, the Great Hall filled once more. The tables and plates vanished, chairs were magically rearranged, and the podium reappeared with a quiet & subtle magic. Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped forward once again, his voice magnified across the chamber.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I trust your stomachs are full and your spirits have been restored. We will now continue with the recipients of the Order of Merlin, Second Class Awards. This esteemed honour is awarded for achievement or endeavour beyond the ordinary. The color of the ribbon of this class is purple.”
He paused, scanning the hall. “Unlike the recipients of the Third Class, all of those honoured here today by this are either seventeen years of age or older, or will reach the age of seventeen by year’s end. As before, we begin with the posthumous awards.”
Kingsley then unrolled his parchment. “The first recipient is Lavender Brown, awarded posthumously for her courage in the Battle of Hogwarts. She covered the escape of a group of Third‑year students from the attacks of Fenrir Greyback, sacrificing herself to buy them time. A Gryffindor and member of Dumbledore’s Army, she fought fiercely to protect her friends. It is my honour to present this award to her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Tony Brown.”
The applause swelled as Mr. Brown ascended the podium. He shook hands with Kingsley and Professor McGonagall, then accepted the plaque and purple ribbon. His voice trembled but carried conviction. “Professor, I am not blind to my daughter’s faults. She could be vain, even careless. But she was brave and loyal, and she admired strong women. She spoke of you often, Professor — you were her role model. Her last words to us were: ‘Okease tell Professor McGonagall thank you. Tell her I finally became brave, just like her.’”
Minerva’s eyes glistened. “It is true I was harsh with her, but it was only because I believed she could accomplish much more. I am proud and grateful to know she considered me her role model, and prouder still to have been her Head of House.”
With a flourish, she conjured the red and gold flag of Gryffindor, folded it neatly, and handed it to Mr. Brown, who accepted it with reverence before descending the podium in tears.
As the day progressed, the shadows grew longer across the stone floor of the Great Hall, stretching like silent witnesses to the names being called.
An hour later, Kingsley looked down again. “The final posthumous recipient of the Order of Merlin, Second Class: Fred Weasley. Fred was a personal friend of mine. He was brave, loyal, and lived life on his own terms — always smiling, always steadfast. For his role in the Battle of Hogwarts and for giving us hope when we needed it the most with his underground radio show, it is my honour, Priveledge end sorrow to present this award to his twin brother, George Weasley.”
The hall erupted in cheers so loud the castle walls seemed to tremble. George rose, released Angelina’s hand, and climbed the podium. His smile was brave but hollow, his eyes betraying grief. He accepted the purple ribbon and plaque from Kingsley, and the Gryffindor flag from Minerva, before returning to his seat in silence sne without acknowledgement amid thunderous applause.
Kingsley raised his hand for silence. “Now that our duty to the fallen is complete, it is time to honour the living.”
One by one, he called names, each tied to acts of courage. Many came forward in groups, commemorated for shared battles. Katie Bell, Oliver Wood, Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, Hannah Abbott, Justin Finch‑Fletchley, Susan Bones, and Cho Chang were honoured for their defence against a herd of Dementors and Death Eaters.
Angelina, standing closest, leaned toward Kingsley with a sly smile. “it would seem rou’re finally getting the hang of this political business. You’ve managed to anger very few people so far.”
Kingsley chuckled softly as the cameras flashed. “Don’t be fooled. I’d rather face the tail end of a Blast‑Ended Skrewt. At least with them I know where I stand. Politics is not my cup of tea — thankfully Percy guides me through most of it.”
Angelina laughed as she stepped aside, allowing the others their moment.
For the next hour and a half, Kingsley continued, calling names, recounting deeds, and presenting plaques and ribbons. The media noted that most recipients were members of the Order of the Phoenix or Dumbledore’s Army, drawn largely from Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff. Fewer than fifteen Slytherins had been honoured so far.
After George Weasley, Dean Thomas, Lee Jordan, Seamus Finnigan, Michael Corner, and Anthony Goldstein received their awards for defeating Dolohov, Yaxley, and Travers in battle, Kingsley continued down the parchment.
“Parvati and Padma Patil,” he announced, “for their courage in evacuating younger students under fire and standing firm against the Death Eaters.” The twins rose together, their steps in perfect rhythm. Parvati’s smile was bright, defiant even, a faint scar tracing her temple like a badge of survival. Padma’s expression was calm, though she moved with a slight limp, her composure unshaken. They accepted their plaques and ribbons with quiet dignity, embodying both Gryffindor fire and Ravenclaw poise.
“Ernie Macmillan,” Kingsley said next, “for rallying Hufflepuff students in defence of the castle walls and holding the line against overwhelming odds.” Ernie bowed stiffly, his knuckles scarred from duelling, gripping the plaque as though it were both honour and burden.
“Terry Boot,” Kingsley added, “for his steadfast defence of the Hogwarts infirmary. He cast protective charms around the ward and personally rallied a group of Ravenclaws to shield Madam Pomfrey and the healers while they tended to the wounded. His courage was not only in battle, but in safeguarding those who saved lives.”
Terry’s tall frame cut a solemn figure as he accepted his ribbon, exhaustion etched in the dark circles under his eyes, the mark of someone who had fought with intellect and endurance.
The applause rolled on, each name adding weight to the ceremony, each ribbon a thread in the tapestry of courage.