Harry opened his eyes to find he was surrounded by red and gold. Confused, he rubbed his eyes and looked around him; he found himself in the Gryffindor common room. Comfort and familiarity permeated his senses, and he felt almost relieved. It was almost as if this last year hadn't happened. Of course, instead of basking in the security of his one true home, reality came flooding back to him, paralyzing him with so many different but overwhelming emotions.
He felt a great sense of relief and joy now that Voldemort was finally dead, but he also felt extremely depressed that many of the people he knew and loved died because of him. He knew that many celebrations were going on simultaneously around the world because of this great victory, but he also knew that many lives were ruined or changed forever because of the war - a war that he felt partially responsible for. All he could manage at that moment was to stare at the hangings of his four poster bed.
Vaguely, he was aware of people moving around him, speaking quietly about one thing or another. He couldn't tell if it had been a couple of minutes or hours that he lay there, but eventually a small ray of sunshine attempted to peak through the curtains of his bed. Harry watched as it struggled to be seen, attempting to push past the darkness surrounding it. The little ray illuminated the deep red of the curtain, making it look vibrant but too close to the color of wet blood for his taste.
It was tough for Harry to remember what he was like the last time he slept in his bed. He hadn't been in the Gryffindor common room for over a year and he was almost afraid to see what was different about it. He felt like so much had changed and feared that some of the changes would be too hard to bear. Yesterday, he had killed the most dangerous wizard to ever exist. But, he wondered why he did not feel more glad – more positive.
Gingerly, he struggled to sit up. He felt terribly battered and sore, but managed to stand without collapse. Examining his body, he noticed that his arms and legs were peppered with bruises and scrapes, but this did not surprise him after everything he'd been through yesterday. If anything, he was surprised he wasn't more injured. Yesterday, he had died, if only for a short time. It almost didn't seem real.
Figuring he might as well go down and eat something, he shook his head and slowly climbed out of bed. Around him were the same four posters that were always there. However, they were occupied by different people. Ron was not in his bed; instead, an unfamiliar Gryffindor boy slept soundly with minimal scrapes framing his face. Neville's and Seamus' beds were empty, but Dean was slowly waking up in his own bed. Harry found clean clothes at the foot of his bed, probably left by Kreacher, and put them on carefully.
Upon entering the common room, he saw many familiar faces. There were many Gryffindors in the room, including Dennis Creevey, Katie Bell, Padma Patil, and others that he recognized. There were many, still, that he did not recognize, and many more adults than he'd ever seen in this room before. As he hit the bottom stair, most of the people in the room turned to look at him. There was a moment of silence as he looked back at all of them with apprehension. Then, cheers broke out. Harry wished he had put on his invisibility cloak as the people in the room clapped and congratulated him. He tried his best to move across the room quickly, but many people stopped him to discuss his victory and his future plans. Giving vague answers and constantly moving towards the door, he was finally able to climb through the portrait hole into a much quieter hallway.
He sighed in relief. Luckily, the hallways were empty and many of the portraits, including the Fat Lady, had abandoned their paintings in order to celebrate with one another. As he made his way down to the Great Hall, he witnessed the damage that was done to the castle. Many of the windows in the corridors were shattered on the ground. The statues that once decorated the hallways were tipped or broken; some of them groaned or complained. The wall of the fifth floor corridor was completely gone and there was stone debris everywhere. When he finally got to the Grand Staircase, Harry had to lean against the banister as destruction met his eyes. Instead of the doors to the castle, there was a gaping hole surrounded by large splinters of wood and crumbled stone. The floor of the Entrance Hall was covered in scarlet blood, but the emeralds that had spilled from the Slytherin hourglass were being swept into a large pile by Mr. Filch. A mop and bucket lay nearby, waiting to be used.
Numerous trails of bloody footsteps led into the Great Hall where Harry could hear laughing, talking, and general sounds of celebration. It sounded a lot like a party in there, and one that Harry did not want to attend. He didn't understand how people could celebrate with so much death and destruction surrounding them. Harry suddenly felt too sick to eat, deciding instead to sit by the lake to clear his mind. As fast as his tired legs could carry him, he walked past the Great Hall.
He wanted to escape this reality he felt he had caused, but had no idea where to go – or how. He tried telling himself that this wasn't his fault that people fought because they wanted better lives for themselves free from Voldemort's rule. But a large part of him couldn't help but feel immensely guilty, and more than a bit sick. Voldemort came to Hogwarts because of him. He attacked the students and teachers to try and get to him. People were hurt and the castle was damaged because of him. As his thoughts spiraled in his head, he wobbled his way around the rubble and through the front doors.
However, the scene outside was worse; his guts churned painfully and he vomited. Between the courtyard –littered with broken cobblestones, splinters of benches, and broken gargoyles –and the pristine lake lay rows of bodies. Each was neatly encompassed by white fabric and were spaced evenly from one another. Some had people looking upon them mournfully while others were left in peace.
Harry, wiping his mouth with the back of his shaky hand, couldn't breathe. He felt like the rubble surrounding him was stacked on his chest. The deepest breaths he tried to take didn't manage to fill his lungs. The edges of his vision darkened and his legs felt squirmy like the squid's tentacles. His breathing became more frantic and erratic as he tried to make his body work properly.
"Harry?" a woman asked as he felt a hand on his shoulder.
Harry's knees buckled at the touch. He gasped on all fours, trying to ignore how many dead there were. It was all his fault. There were so many and he was the reason they were dead.
"Harry!" He felt an arm around his shoulders as his vision further darkened until there was just a tiny pinhole of light left. "Professor, help!"
He heard quick footsteps coming toward him as he did his best to focus on getting air into his body. "Potter, what is wrong?" a familiar woman's voice asked gently but quickly.
In Harry's head, he responded, "I can't breathe," but nothing came out of his mouth. Instead, he collapsed onto his side and panted.
"Find someone to move him," the familiar voice quickly ordered to the hand on his shoulder and he felt it disappear. He heard footfalls retreating.
"Harry," the voice said sympathetically, "I need you to breathe with me. I know it's hard, but follow my lead, okay?"
Harry blinked rapidly, attempting to remove the darkness from his eyes, but it was no use. Then the woman said, "Breathe in," and breathed in deeply herself.
"Breathe out," and she let her own breath out loudly.
She continued this pattern for a solid thirty seconds before Harry was able to attempt doing as she asked. "Focus, Harry," she encouraged before continuing the pattern.
At first, he found it difficult to inhale without immediately exhaling. But with her calm encouragement, slowly he was able to almost match her pattern. He still had trouble breathing in as deeply as she wanted, but the darkness in his vision began to recede and he saw that he was tightly clutching the arm of Professor McGonagall.
He gradually lessened his grip on her arm and looked up at her. Concern was written all over her face, but also relief. "Keep breathing deeply," she instructed quietly. "Is it okay if we move you?"
Harry nodded. He was now able to see the small crowd forming around him, whispering to one another. Harry didn't have the energy to care about them, but he vaguely thought he should feel awkward lying where everyone could see.
Off to the side, he saw Hermione standing with Ron. Professor McGonagall waved them over, "Please, bring him to my office. I'll be there shortly."
Ron bent down and picked up Harry relatively easily. Harry idly wondered when Ron had gotten strong enough to lift him. He also had the thought to protest being carried bridal-style by his best friend, but had no strength left to argue with – let alone stand up with.
Hermione strode beside them as Professor McGonagall shooed and reassured the group of onlookers that had gathered. The trip was a short one; once the door was shut behind them, Harry was placed in a chair across from the unlit fireplace. Looking around the room briefly, Harry was thankful that this room looked relatively unchanged. His body felt incredibly shaky; his chest felt tight and uncomfortable. He regretted glancing over at Ron and Hermione, sitting next to him, who looked pale and concerned. Luckily, no one spoke. He clasped his hands between his thighs to stop their shaking.
Shortly after they had settled in, McGonagall stepped into her office with Madam Pomfrey in tow. She pulled out her wand and waved it, which drew the curtains over the windows. The room darkened considerably, until she waved her wand again and created a small but cheerful fire in the hearth. This gave the room a comfortable, cozy atmosphere that made Harry more relaxed, but also suddenly very tired.
Off to the side, Harry could hear Madam Pomfrey rustling around. He turned his head slightly to see that she was making a bed he'd never noticed in this room before.
"Mr. Potter, how do you feel?" He realized that Professor McGonagall had pulled over her desk chair by the windows and was now sitting in front of him.
Harry mulled over this question sluggishly. He felt slightly frustrated because of how difficult it was to think, like his thoughts had to go through desert sand in order to reach his understanding. "I… don't know," he croaked out finally. "Tired?"
"Harry," Hermione said from his left. "I- I think you were having a panic attack."
Harry looked over at her and Ron. Both looked worried, still. Harry felt like he should have a reaction to what Hermione said, or at least at the way they were looking at him, but... nothing. He felt blank. Blank and jittery.
"Yes, Ms. Granger. I agree. This is why I have arranged for Madam Pomfrey to set up a bed in my office for Mr. Potter to stay in for a short while," Professor McGonagall grasped one of Harry's wrists gently and shock registered on Harry's face. "Harry, you have been through so much this year. Now that it's finally over, it's time to rest. Okay?"
This was the most heartfelt and gentle Harry had ever heard Professor McGonagall speak to him. He nodded dumbly as Madam Pomfrey handed him a vial and commanded, "Go sit on the bed and drink this, Mr. Potter. It will help."
One of Harry's hands held the vial while the other tried to push him to a standing position. Seeing his struggle, McGonagall took his arm, helped him stand, and led him over to the bed. He felt as if he could fall over at any moment because of his weak, wobbly legs, but McGonagall kept a strong, steady grasp on his arm the whole way. Once situated, he swallowed the contents of the small vial. Almost immediately, his body stopped shaking and his chest loosened up. Harry lay down because his body felt too heavy to hold up any longer. He felt incredibly relaxed and comfortable in the bed. Before a minute had passed, he had fallen asleep.
Madam Pomfrey covered Harry with blankets, was satisfied with his condition, and left the room. Professor McGonagall sat down with Ron and Hermione and sighed, looking like she had aged a decade since they had last seen her. "Now then, are you both alright? You have gone through just as much as Mr. Potter has."
An uncomfortable silence fell –what could either of them say to their Professor? Ron shrugged and Hermione stared at her hands clasped gently in her lap. "Look at me," Professor McGonagall said evenly, "I understand that it may be difficult to talk about. But please, don't let it destroy you. If you will not talk to me, at least talk to each other or someone you trust. It is important to let these feelings go as time passes. While a great victory was achieved, many terrible events enabled it to happen. This is not overlooked by anyone involved, and we all are bound to be changed. Just, let others in, alright? We are all in this together, and there are many people here who wish to support you."
The end of her small speech sounded like a plea to Hermione, and she nodded with tears threatening to overflow. Ron felt awkward and attempted to look at anything besides the two women in the room. After a short pause, McGonagall sighed again. "Mr. Potter will probably be staying here for a few days in order to recover. Feel free to come see him and stay with him if you wish, but do not overwhelm him. If he asks you to leave, try not to be offended and do as he asks. And keep his visitors to a minimum for the time being," Ron and Hermione nodded. "And please, take this time to take care of yourselves. You need rest, too."
At that, Professor McGonagall stood, followed by Ron and Hermione. "We will let Mr. Potter rest for now. I'll have Madam Pomfrey check on him later on."
With that, Ron and Hermione left the Professor's office and the door closed gently behind them. Ron looked over at Hermione and saw tears streaming silently down her face as she tried to wipe them away hurriedly. His chest, which had already felt heavy, felt heavier. He wrapped his arms around her as she tried to pull herself together.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled into his shoulder. "I was so worried when I saw Harry that way."
Ron rubbed slow, little circles on her back. "I know, it's okay."
They stood like this, seemingly for both five minutes and five hours, until Ron suggested they go outside and watch the Whomping Willow. He wanted to sit by the lake, but he didn't want to pass or look at the bodies that had been moved from the Great Hall any more than she probably did. Hermione nodded her head, took a deep breath, rubbed at her eyes, and held his hand.
Ron led them out the front doors and used his body to block the terrible view from Hermione as they took a right immediately exiting the castle in order to avoid most of the courtyard – and what lay beyond it. Other than this, the walk was uneventful and quiet. Hermione was lost in her own thoughts and let Ron lead the way. Ron was looking around at the pristine spring afternoon, unable to enjoy it. He felt empty inside, but also like he could burst at any moment. He felt at war with himself, which left him feeling tired and hollow.
As they approached a small hill a safe distance from the Whomping Willow's reach, the two discovered they were not alone seeking the solace of the grounds. Sitting atop the hill were Luna and Neville. Ron and Hermione wordlessly joined them. For a while, all four of them sat and observed the tree wave in a light breeze and then attempt to beat up a bird that landed on one of its lower branches. Both sides put up a good fight, but eventually the bird escaped with nothing more than some missing feathers.
Luna spoke first, "It's weird to think that it's all over now, you know?"
Neville and Ron nodded weakly. No one looked away from the tree. Luna continued, "Everyone inside seems quite excited about it. I don't really blame them much; if you think about it, this war has lasted twenty-eight years even though there was a large break in the middle."
A long silence followed her statement. It was not a particularly comfortable silence as they all attempted to process what Luna had said, but no one could think of something to add to it.
A light breeze played with their hair as Hermione said, "I don't know if anyone's told you, Neville, but you were amazing when you killed Nagini. Thank you."
Neville shrugged and leaned forward to look around Ron at Hermione, "I just wanted to hurt him as much as he hurt all of us. I honestly thought I would get bit or spelled before I could do any major damage. I could barely even see with the Sorting Hat on my head."
"You did well, mate," said Ron as he clapped him weakly on the shoulder. "Saved us all, actually."
Neville's eyes widened a bit and then he shook his head quickly. "Nah, it was just his snake. I guess it distracted him for a bit, though. Besides, Harry told me while we were collecting the injured that the snake needed to die."
"No, Neville," Hermione took a deep breath. "It wasn't just a snake. Nagini was one of Voldemort's horcruxes. Do you know what a horcrux is?"
Neville's eyes looked like two snitches and Luna's face darkened slightly, but both nodded. Hermione continued, "All year, Harry, Ron, and I have been out looking for Voldemort's horcruxes. He -he made seven of them -"
"Seven!" Neville exclaimed as he paled.
"Yes," Hermione sighed, "seven. And that's why we were gone for so long."
"I destroyed a Horcrux…" Neville breathed in amazement.
"Good job, Neville," Luna smiled at him before asking Hermione, "This explains why you needed Ravenclaw's diadem. How did you know where to find them all?"
"We didn't know where they were, not really. Before he died -" Hermione sniffed before continuing stiffly, "Dumbledore had regular meetings with Harry where they would explore the details of Voldemort's past. We used what Harry learned to, well, pretty much guess where they would be hidden. We figured one of them was Nagini, but we couldn't figure out how to get to her. You really saved us, Neville. So, thank you."
"You're welcome, I guess." Neville, still amazed, thought about his actions over the past year. He knew he had toughened up throughout the year, but he'd never dreamed of doing anything so important and difficult.
Another silence fell as the four watched the tree attempt to bludgeon a couple of Red Caps. After two failed attempts to pass the tree on the way to the grounds, they gave up and returned to the Forbidden Forest.
"How's Harry doing?" Neville asked. "We saw him as we were headed over here."
Ron shrugged. "Not sure, McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey are looking after him, though, so I'm sure he'll be alright."
Hermione, looking positively miserable, added, "It will take time for him to heal. For all of us -" she sniffled, "-to heal."
Ron took Hermione's hand again and gave it a squeeze as Luna stood up, walked over to Hermione, sat, and put an arm around her. Hermione sniffled again and quickly swiped at her eyes. "I'm fine. It's just been hard. I don't know what's next for me," she stared at her hand intertwined with Ron's as she tried to keep her tears from falling. "I, we, technically haven't finished school, so we can't get jobs in the Wizarding World…"
"Hermione, only you would be worried about school after all this," Ron smirked.
"Ron, that's not what I mean!" Her attempts failed and tears stained her cheeks again. Quietly, she continued, "My parents don't remember me. They will never remember me again. I can't go home."
She choked and took comfort from Luna's embrace, letting go of Ron's hand. She cried loudly, her shoulders shaking with each sob.
Ron looked dumbstruck for a minute. Then, his mouth made the shape of an "O". He looked confused for another minute. Finally, his expression cleared and he put his hand on Hermione's back. "Hermione," he began. "I'm sorry. I know I sometimes say dumb things. And that those dumb things make you mad or upset with me. I don't mean to do that."
He sighed and scooched over so that he was sitting in front of Hermione's feet, looking at her. "Hermione, um, will you come live with me?"
Ron's ears turned beet red as he felt three pairs of eyes staring at him. "I know mum would love to have you. And I don't think GInny would mind the company. And… you're like family to us. To me. We won't leave you with nowhere to go."
"Oh, Ron!" Hermione practically sobbed as she jumped from Luna's arms to Ron's. Hermione balled as Ron held her. Eventually, she calmed down, hiccuped some, and said, "We'd have to ask your parents first. But thank you, so much."