He'd spent so long with the horcrux in him that it had felt like just another piece of his soul.
Tom, the small piece of the Dark Lords soul, had been there since he was one, caring for him, helping him. He would feel a slight pressure on his shoulders on the nastier days when nothing but nightmares invaded his dreams and Vernon screamed at him all afternoon.
In some weird occurrence that only ever seemed to effect Harry, because fate seemed to make him her bitch - never letting him forget that little fact, the horcrux was whole. He had every memory up until the moment he'd been splinched into Harry's scar.
He'd understood, was there for every moment of every wretched day up until Voldemort had shot the killing curse at him. They'd been prepared for that, known it was needed to defeat him.
No matter how many nights it left Harry awake, staring at nothing with cloudy eyes.
They'd even speculated of the effects that ridding him of Tom might bring. Their souls were intertwined. They were one.
And the fear was not irrational Harry had found. The moment Tom screamed, was the moment Harry screamed with him. Their screams echoed through the forest, Tom's more like the Tom from the chamber. But Harry...
Harry screamed and screamed and screamed. The sound echoing throughout the forest, causing some of the Death Eaters to actually flinch. It was blood-curdling. The pain was worse than being tortured under the Dark Lords wand. He couldn't do anything as a piece of his soul was ripped from him.
And then he had felt nothing.
He'd opened his eyes to Voldemort smirking at him and felt nothing.
The act of killing the Dark Lord brought him nothing. No happiness, no relief. Nothing. He no longer had his emotions.
The act of killing the horcrux in him had replicated splitting one's soul, and it left him barely human.
He simply slipped the elder wand into his wrist holder, putting his original, broken wand in a pocket of his pants. He looked for the cloak, not feeling it on him. Then he had looked around, saw the last of the Death Eaters glancing around, trying to find him.
He was the cloak. Every little enchantment it had had, Harry now could activate with a thought. The cloak and he were one. Later, when he stared at the mirror in his bathroom, he would see the mark of the Deathly Hallows burned onto his chest. A reminder that he'd been the one to collect all three, the only one.
He'd found the one feeling he could feel was the loss. The loss at not having Tom with him. The loss of not having a companion. Having his... His lover. At first, he'd been like a brother to him, but now... No. Tom was his. And he was gone.
He looked around, looked at all of the followers that were still there, and called his wand back into his hand. In one swift movement, he was firing of nonverbal avadas at everyone that had supported the Dark Lord.
And then the war was over.
He'd walked back to the field where bodies were littered throughout, some people leaning over them, grieving for their loss.
Everyone's head turned when he had stepped out of the forest. One by one, people crowded around him, shaking his hand and thanking him for his sacrifice. Not once seeing the apathy in his eyes. The complete lack of human emotions.
The people that used to be considered family crowded around him, checking over him and setting their hands on his shoulders. He'd looked at everyone, noted who was no longer in the group.
Fred. Fred wasn't here.
A small hand encircled him, holding it tightly. He looked down to see Luna smiling at him sadly, nodding in acceptance of what he was now. A shell of what he once was. "You can go back if you wish hard enough," she had whispered in his ear before looking to the left where Neville was walking towards them, covered in blood and dirt but not looking like he was in too much pain.
"Harry, mate? How are you feeling?" Ron asked, waving his hand in front of his face, his mouth turned down in worry.
Harry didn't answer, just looked at George. If he could see his own face, he thought it might look exactly like George's did. "You too?"
George nodded, moving to stand next to him, shoulder touching shoulder. "Ya. What's it like for you?"
They could almost feel the confusion around them but chose to ignore it for the moment.
"I'm numb. The moment Tom was ripped from me, everything sorta just... Dulled."
Molly started floating around them in worry, asking them what they were talking about.
Harry turned lifeless eyes to George, speaking in a near whisper. "Luna said I can go back, fix things maybe. I think it has something to do with my collecting of all three hallows. If it works, I won't let us be separated again. I can promise you that George."
"Please. It feels like I'm on fire. My soul knows its missing some of it, knows it's dead and it isn't happy." George told him in response, letting him know how it was for him to be missing a part of his very being.
"Dears? What are you saying?" Molly asked, the worry lines on her face even more prominent at that moment in time.
Harry brought her into a tight hug, resting his head on her shoulder. "I'm going to fix this. I'm not going to let you lose a son and I'll get my Tom back."
Harry leaned back, kissing her on the cheek. "Thank you for being the the mother I never had."
Harry squeezed Georges hand once before dropping it, walking away. Towards the spot, He had died.
The bodies were still littered about, some of the ministry would hopefully get to it soon. He stood in the exact spot where it all had gone to crap, just thinking over what Luna had told him, how to go back.
Harry closed his eyes, calling the wand to his hands to hold on to tightly. 'Please, whomever or whatever may be listening, please send me back. I need to change things. I can't live if I stay here, not when George and I are all but ruined already.'