Everyone had heard of the newly opened museum. Harry was insisting that I visit the museum too. I couldn’t stand his insistence any longer and decided to go. I had no idea what museum it was. I got ready on a Saturday and called Harry. I waited for Harry to call Hermione and Ron to got to the Museum. The museum building was built inside a huge old architecture. We paid the fee and went inside.
When I realized what the museum was about, I couldn’t help but my eyes fill with tears. The interior of the museum was designed as a city. Not as an ordinary city, but as “my” city… The 1st and 2nd Hogwarts wars were recreated using wax figures, wands and tools, and the stories, wax statues of the important figures in the wars were lined up in order. We continued to walk in the big field. Models of important places destroyed after the 2nd Battle of Hogwarts were rising from both sides of us. For a moment, I went back to 20 years ago. I felt like we were wandering around Diagonal Alley on a holiday with the “Marauders”. After passing the area where some of the belongings of the Big 4, Cedric, Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin were located, Harry paused when he saw the model of James and Lily Potter’s houses. I gave him a sad smile. Next to the model was a sign explaining how they heroically fought Voldemort and left this legacy to their sons.
We continued walking, wondering about the rest of the museum. This time I was the one who paused with what I saw. There was a picture of the Black family family tree and wax statues of some of the family’s members. My dry eyes filled with tears again when I saw the statue of Sirius with the statues of me and Regulus right next to him, I couldn’t take it anymore and started crying. The statue of Regulus was smiling to me, holding the locket he had given his life to destroy. This time, our heroism was on the sign. I felt Harry’s hand on my shoulder. I saw the heroism of Harry, Hermione, Ron and others in the 2nd Hogwarts War were described with models and pictures.
We proved wrong those who tried to make us forget. No, we were preserving our place in the memories of the younger generations. Even the smallest act of heroism was remembered. I exchanged glances with a little girl who came to the museum with her parents. She looked first at my wax statue, then at me, and pointed at me with her hand to her mother. At that moment, I thought that all the pain we experienced and every comrade we lost was worth it. We had succeeded, and thanks to our efforts, these people could live happily and safely. With this I proudly walk through the last part of the museum and left.