Over
All hail Queen Rowling! -low curtsey-
It was over. Finally, the Battle of Hogwarts was over. Countless lives were over... Three thoughts reverberate around Harry's head as he walks around the castle. There lies Parvati Patil in Firenze's Divination classroom, her once long hair cut raggedly short on one side, presumably from a dodged Sectumsempra. Harry remembers sitting behind Parvati in the History of Magic exam, two long years ago, watching the sun glint off her plait... Padma's sobs rack her body as she sits next to the body of her twin. Lavender Brown sits on the other side of the table that holds the once vibrant young witch, her face deathly pale, legs crossed, hands clenched in her lap, and looking as if she has aged twenty years in the past few hours.
Harry walks on. There lies Justin Finch-Fletchley in one of the Herbology greenhouses, an impossibly deep gash in his arm almost cutting it in half. Susan Bones stands nearby, her posture ramrod straight, staring into the distance, clean streaks where her tears have cut through the grime on her face, her wand still in her hand, almost in a death grip. Ernie Macmillan stands close to her, his expression unreadable, his stance still battle ready despite his recently bandaged arms. How they had grown, from scared Second Years accusing Harry of being Slytherin's Heir to the brave young men and women who went into battle full of belief in Harry to fix the future. How anyone could have thought Justin dead all those years ago when he was Petrified, when he was truly dead now was a mystery. Being alive was not just about being able to move; it was about having a spark: a spark of intuition, of imagination, of, well, of life.
Harry is numb. He cannot allow himself to give into the horror of the night just yet. Call it gut instinct but he knows that if he does, he will fall into a void that he will never be able to climb out of. He walks on, not concentrating on where he's going; just letting his feet carry him around the castle he knows so well, past classrooms that would ordinarily be filled with students now filled with either bodies or the wounded, down corridors full of empty alcoves that would have formerly been lined with statues that have been smashed while doing their duty to the school, through doors that have been ripped off their hinges by spells and brute force. He walks on until he has come full circle; back at the doors to the Great Hall.
It's over...
I like drabble fics, don't you? As always, I would adore reviews and don't be afraid to tear the fic to pieces; I can handle it.