The battle was over. But Neville didn't feel like celebrating.
He was standing in the ruins of the Great Hall, looking at the rubble. Was it really over? It seemed like it was just yesterday that the DA was celebrating Harry's return to Hogwarts. Oh wait. That was earlier today. Never mind.
Now there were so many dead. Death Eaters, sure, but also DA members, Order members.
He had led them straight into a massacre. Why had he been spared? He wasn't the only survivor, but standing here in the now-empty and ruined Great Hall, he sure felt like it.
They had been in the Room of Requirement just yesterday, planning against the Carrows.
He remembered first year, when everything was so big, when the worst that was happening was he lost Trevor (again), or he had messed up some spell.
How had this happened? How had everything gone so wrong? They had won. He should be happy. Voldemort was dead, never to come back. The Death Eaters were either arrested or killed. But the price . . .
The dead bodies haunted him. Phantom faces at the windows, phantom shadows on the floor, empty chairs at empty tables.
What was the price for their freedom? Fred Weasley, Remus Lupin, the list went on and on. How could he live with himself, knowing that his friends were dead, knowing it was his fault?
Worst of all, worse than the battle itself, would be just living. What was his life now? With these phantoms watching him, condemning him for living, blaming him - he knew where the blame was. It was his fault, all his bloody fault! He could have saved them, maybe one or two at least, if he had paid better attention, if he hadn't been distracted with other fights!
Now his friends were dead and gone. Hogwarts was battle-scarred, the castle a ruin. What future awaited them, outside of these halls? Would they try to be normal, act like this never happened? When the sun rose in a few hours, what world would await them? What would the dawn find?
What were their sacrifices for? A world, a life of re-imagining, re-dreaming, re-building, re-creating?
Maybe it would be best if tomorrow never came. Their world would never be reborn. Not here, not in the ruins of their dreams. Not where their blood and bones and hopes and dreams were shed in the hope of a fantasy!
Here, they had talked about tomorrow. Here, they had complained about schoolwork. Here, they had studied for tests. Now they were gone. But he could hear the echoes of their laughs, mocking him. Look at him, they taunted. Look at Longbottom. He can't do anything right. He's a failure, not a hero!
AN: 466 depressing words. I was listening to Empty Chairs at Empty Tables from Les Miserables, and this just popped in. Bonus points if you can find all of the references!
I thought about making this Harry-centric, then I realized that Neville had led the DA throughout the last book, and that he would be the one to know them best, so I had him be the narrator.
And yes, he does do the "This is all my fault" bit, because he could have been the Chosen One, and I wanted him to have a bit of parallel to Harry.
And my rambling is done now. Please review.