The castle was in a dead sort of silence. Which made a lot of sense. No one dared celebrate the defeat of Voldemort, because in that brief moment of relief and pure, simple happiness came a hollow guilt in the pit of everyone's stomachs. The happiness they shared with each other could not be shared with everyone. Some of the best fighters out there, the greatest wizards, the students no one had heard of and numerous creatures had given their lives up for the cause. A cause that Harry had originally thought of as his own. But how wrong he was. All those years of feeling so alone and lost had resulted to this. Unity. Everyone fighting together, everyone pitching in. Some merely giving a safe passage in and out. Some giving their lives.
Harry didn't smile. Every time he did, images of Fred, Lupin, Tonks... They swirled around in his head, making his stomach twist with an uneasy pain to go with it. It wasn't his fault, and he knew that. And he knew that of course, he couldn't have done anything about it. He didn't even know how the latter two had been killed... But it didn't get rid of the hollow pit that formed in his stomach when he thought of the families who had lost their loved ones. The Weasley's. The best family Harry had ever known and ever would know, he reckoned. They didn't deserve this. Fred didn't deserve to die. Little Teddy Lupin, Harry's own godson, now parent-less at only a few weeks. Like Harry himself. He didn't even have any idea what had just occurred, whereas half the world was rejoicing for their safety.
Harry didn't want to go down to the Great Hall. They were taking the bodies from their and taking them to separate, intact classrooms where the families and friends could say their final goodbyes before they were to be taken and buried in the grounds. There were a lot of goodbyes Harry wanted to say. He'd much rather have said them when they were alive, but that was probably what most people were thinking. He had a lot of thank you's to say too. To everyone. The situation was confusing to his mind, so many thoughts tumbling and running into each other. He needed to get his thoughts together, form a plan of action.
He wanted to give a thank you speech. A morning speech. A final speech. He didn't know how or what he would say. He just wanted to fill the emptiness he was feeling. He wanted medical attention and a good meal. His stomach ached harshly, the bruise from the heavy killing curse and hunger pains united together. He wanted to see his friends, his comrades, his army and not feel so alone as he did now, sitting on the chair opposite what would have been Dumbledore's. He wanted to sleep.
Instead of proceeding to fill out his needs, he stood and headed to the window. None of the portraits of ex-head teachers were pretending to be asleep. Neither were they willing to interrupt the silence that simmered throughout the office. Green orbs gazed outside the window, Harry's eyes taking in the damage. It was all smoke and ash now. He could see some older men working. Bill and Charlie standing out the most. Harry figured they'd be preoccupying themselves, not wanting to think about their loss... It hurt for Harry to think about it. He glanced to the forest, a truly forbidden place to him now. It was so strange to think he had just been killed amongst those trees. Voldemort has raised his wand and uttered the two words he loved best.
It was also weird to think that seven years ago, Harry was clueless to most things that he recited naturally now. He barely knew he was a wizard. That first fight with Voldemort, in the form of Quirrel, seemed like child's play now. But then, it was a huge thing. And now Voldemort was dead, at his hand. It was a crazy thought to think, and Harry was trying not to experience a weird feeling of nostalgia. The slow rise of Voldemort was only just beginning then. It had finally come to it's end.