Harry in the aftermath
Harry woke to the sounds of people cheering. The revelries were not yet over, after all, who could blame the revellers? If you have spent a decade fearing shadows, and fearing the resurrection of a terrorist, and then lived a year in uncertainty, seen the reality of a takeover, and the materialization of evil, you should be forgiven for celebrating the end of such tragic times. The Battle of Hogwarts was fought, and won, lives were lost to a cause, and despite what everyone said, Harry didn't feel like a hero. When he walked into the Forest that evening, he didn't feel brave, he didn't feel like a warrior, or a brave man, he felt like the boy he was, tired of this lifetime of tragedy that seemed not to end. He had seen the bodies of those who had fought for him, and felt pity. Now, as he looked at the pictures on the shelf in his room at the Hog's Head, he only felt disgust. All those people, butchered, just gone, in a few moments of human conflict. He didn't spare a thought for Voldemort, but he could not help but feel a deep-seated sense of pity for the man who had split his soul into so many pieces that each was indistinguishable from a mass of energy.
Harry rose and put on his spectacles, his scar felt heavy, but didn't tingle. Outside, it was evening and the streets were bright with lights and sounds of laughter and joy. In the month that had passed, there had been arrests and there had been some attacks from Death Eaters hell-bent on retaining their power. Many of them still believed that their Dark Lord would return, and there were times when Harry too woke sweating, feeling his scar, afraid that the Battle of Hogwarts had been a dream. He would wake with a gasp and the shadow of Voldemort's sneering face would greet him.
If there was any consolation, it was in the fact that he could now talk to Ginny and spend time with her. He didn't feel any urgency with her now that his purpose was fulfilled. She was his guiding light, and his salvation in the madness that had become his life. Harry walked over to the pictures of Tonks and Lupin, and stared at them. The two were embracing in the picture, and Tonk's mouth was open in a wide laugh, Lupin's eyes were open in a delirious happiness that could only be explained by the bump in Tonks' stomach. Another photograph showed Teddy, their son, sleeping soundly in a crib. Harry's stomach lurched when he looked at the blue-haired baby, he thought that he could see a shadow of himself on the child. He was Teddy's godfather, and he knew that he would have to look after him. He swore to himself that he would. He had an inkling of what Sirius must have felt when he heard that Harry was in the Department of Mysteries all those years ago. He knew that no force on Planet Earth could have prevented him from rushing to the aid of someone he so clearly loved. Sirius' picture was there too, standing with a younger, (happier?) Harry at Grimauld's place. Harry sensed the shadow of Voldemort hanging over them, but the sight of Sirius smiling seemed to shine through the web of Voldemort's shadow
Harry began his days with a glance at these pictures as he searched for his bearings. He had defeated his nemesis, but he had not battled his demons. Grief and sorrow were his nemesis now, as he stood in front of the sink. He shaved with a razor, trying to keep to the simplicity and beauty of mundane tasks. He had realized the tranquility of living life without magic, he understood its importance, he understood the power and the responsibility that came from his wand, but he felt that there was peace in the simpler acts of everyday life, and he envied the Muggles sometimes. He shaved himself, and washed the foam off with his hands and let the cool water run through his fingers. The sounds of the celebrations on the street outside had faded as he entered his bathroom, but the silence too was deafening. Harry felt a heaviness in his heart. He felt tired, exhausted and weary.
He changed into his clothes and gathered up his wand and his glasses. He wanted to go down to the dining hall for breakfast. He summoned Kreacher. Kreacher appeared with a loud crack and bowed respectfully to Harry. "Master Harry, what can Kreacher do for you?", he mumbled praises under his breath. Harry was quite fond of Kreacher now, and if there was home for Harry, it was all owed to the fact that Kreacher made it so. Kreacher had changed in the year they had parted, but Harry felt that it was redeeming Regulus' sacrifice that Kreacher respected in Harry. Harry told Kreacher to bring him up his breakfast. Kreacher proceeded to obey. He disappeared with a crack and Harry felt a pang of longing. Dobby was gone, another lost life in the battle, but Kreacher remained, and if there was anything that reminded Harry of his childhood and of Sirius, it was Kreacher.
Harry waited in the silence unable to find anything to do. His thoughts turned to the pictures on the wall and the grief that he had to cope with. The loss of Lupin had struck him with a heavy blow to the chest as had Sirius' death. The two men who had known his father best had died. In the grief that followed, he thought off Teddy, his Godson, knowing that there was another orphan. He would not deprive Teddy of love, he promised, he would be a good godfather.
There was a knock on the door. Harry opened it to see Ron and Hermione beaming at him. They had been with him through everything, and they wished to be here, as he grieved. They walked in and led Harry to a chair. They sat him down and told him to close his eyes. Harry closed them, partly because it was a good change to trust someone else, particularly his friends. He heard soft footsteps approaching. Hermione whispered, "Open your eyes, Harry", and he did so. Ginny stood in the room holding a small baby with a shock of blue hair in her arms. The baby was fast asleep. Harry felt a warmth rise from within his heart as he smiled and embraced Ginny. He looked at Teddy, wrapped in a blanket, and felt the colour return to the world around him. He held Teddy in his arms and he could see Lupin's eyes, Tonks' hair, and a pleasant resilience he had attributed to both. He could see the baby fast asleep and felt him at peace in his arms. He understood what Dumbledore had said about love, that it was a force that could not be stopped, and could not be replicated. He reconciled himself with the knowledge that Sirius would not have been stopped that day from rushing to the Department of Mysteries. He knew, in that moment, that even if Severus had hated his father, his love for Lily would have never let Harry suffer. He held Teddy in his arms and knew that he would protect Teddy with his life, that his own tragedy and suffering meant something, if it meant that Teddy could be safe. He too was willing to sacrifice his own life as his mother had done in Godric's Hollow, as he was ready to do in the Forbidden Forest. Harry's eyes met Ginny's and the two understood each other well. Harry's scar was forgotten, and the pictures on the wall were smiling, frozen in time.