Disclaimer: I Do Not Own Harry Potter.
There's an empty bottle of champagne on the floor. It hits him that they were probably celebrating the fall of the Dark Lord, and feeling safer than they had in years.
Alice is rocking back and forwards, repeating the words "I don't know" over and over again. She's dripping with sweat, her face is pale, and the palm of her hands is dripping with blood.
He wonders if she dug her nails into the palms to stop herself from screaming or to stop herself from telling them what they wanted to know.
Frank is laying in a pool of his vomit. He looks more broken than Alice does, and it hurts Alastor to look at either of them.
Dumbledore lingers in the doorway as if he is trying to make sense of the scene in front of him.
"Was Neville here?" Alastor asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
"No, he and Augusta are still at the safe house. She doesn't know what's happened here yet." Dumbledore replies, his voice full of regret about what has happened.
A mixture of relief and sadness hits him. Neville was far away safe from the horror of it all and unharmed, but how do you tell a child so young about something terrible like this.
How can he break the news to Augusta that her only child is a broken shell of a man?
The war was over, but someone forgot to tell the enemy that.
"Alastor, if I had any inkling that they were still a target I would have told them to stay where they were."
He believes him, but it doesn't help Alice and Frank any more than it will help Augusta or Neville.
"Someone needs to contact St. Mungo's. And inform that they have two more casualties of war to care for," Alastor tells Dumbledore, taking one last painful look at his friends. "I'll break the news to Augusta."
AN: When I began writing this I was going to write a nice fluffy piece, but my brain had other ideas.