After Voldemort was slain, Harry remained at Hogwarts until the end of term, grieving with the families of the dead and rejoicing with the celebrators. It was déjà vu for many, as Harry Potter was once again The Boy Who Lived, the hero, though this time, Voldemort was gone for good.
Witches and wizards the world over poured into Hogsmeade to bid goodbye to the fallen heroes. In this, it reminded many of the weeks following Dumbledore's death. Lodging filled up almost immediately, so the dormitories were magically expanded to accommodate the families of students lost in the final battle.
It was a fragile time, as is often the case after death. Each person was exposed and vulnerable, every person grateful for the next. It was a hushed and peaceful time, like the beautiful silence just after the sun has sunk below the horizon. It would not last; but people, so immersed in their own deep sentiments as they were, stayed blissfully unaware of the transient nature of the circumstances.
Harry, the Weasley boys, and Neville lay slung in their respective crimson hammocks in the Room of Requirement, which lived on in all its glory as the temporary living quarters of Dumbledore's Army. The weather outside was bright and sunny, which the windowless room did not let on.
"It's all a bit surreal now," said Ron wistfully, wringing his hands.
"Yeah, it just seemed like it'd never end, you know?" added Charlie, "I don't know what we're going to do now it's over."
An awkward silence fell over the boys. They thought of Fred. George stared vacantly at the wood-paneled ceiling. A lone tear slid down his cheek. None of the other boys had ever seen him cry.
"I…I just…never thought," George choked on tears, "…that he'd be gone. I feel so...so..." He groped around for the right word while absentmindedly pulling stray threads from the hem of his jumper.
"Empty," finished Charlie solemnly.
No one knew what to say to comfort George. After a few minutes, Bill cleared his throat and said, "We can't just lie about and cry over him. He would've wanted us to be happy—I know he would. Remember all of his jokes? Remember the beetles in my soup?"
George chuckled softly. "That was my idea, you know."
"Remember the gnome on top of the Christmas tree?" asked Ron.
"And remember the fireworks we set on Umbridge?" asked George, slightly cheerier than before. "The look on her face was priceless!"
"And how you two Transfigured Percy's Head Boy badge?" added Harry.
Percy cleared his throat. "I was such a git to him. I feel horrible."
The suddenly lightened mood evaporated with his words.
"Don't, Percy. If you weren't so thick, we wouldn't have had any material," cracked George feebly.
Silence fell again. Harry looked at George and said, "George, you should be the one to give Fred's eulogy. You knew him best."
"Harry..." Suddenly George was choked up again; the brief glimpse of happiness had vanished faster than leprechaun gold. "He was my best mate, my partner in crime...I dunno. I don't think I can do it."
"It's all right George," Neville chimed in. "You don't have to do it."
"Course not," said Bill. "But, how about you pick who you want to speak?"
"Yeah," echoed the boys. Harry looked at George again. He saw a pain and vulnerability in his eyes that was never there before. He knew George would try to have a laugh for everyone else's sake, but it was a thin veil.
George looked pensive. "Yeah. Yeah, I think I will," he muttered. "Thanks guys." Stricken with sudden realization, he leapt out of the hammock and strode towards the door. "I'll see you lot later."
Once everyone had dispersed from the Room, Ron, flushed and beaming, turned to Harry, who was cross once again now that everyone had gone. Though it had saddened him, Fred's death seemed to cause Ron, in the words of the common room password, to seize the day.
"Life's just too short, mate," said Ron.
"Tell me about it," snapped Harry.
"What the hell, Harry?" asked Ron. Harry had been irritable at the most random moments.
"Ron, I dunno what's gotten into me. I thought that killing Voldemort would make everything all right. And it did at first! But I still see them. . .all the time."
"Who?"
"Dobby. Mad-Eye. Dumbledore. Sirius. Lupin and Tonks. Fred." Ron winced.
"Harry, they're gone."
"I've figured that out for myself, thanks."
"Stop being such a bloody git!"
"Sorry." Harry hung his head. "It's just everyone's turning to me and I've got no one to turn to."
"What am I then? Corned beef? You're my best mate, Harry."
"I know. I know I've been cross lately."
"Tell me about it," replied Ron.
"But I just—you're right. I have to just get on with it," said Harry decisively.
"Now you've got it!" Ron egged him on.
"I have to say my goodbyes, pay my respects, and start the next part of my life."
Ron nodded encouragingly; Harry continued, on a roll.
"I have to find a job, go back to Grimmauld Place and. . ." Harry looked startled at his own epiphany. He stood up and turned toward the portrait hole.
"And what?"
"And tell Ginny how I feel," said Harry, clambering out of the Room.
"Hang on, Harry!" called Ron. "I never said that!"