I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try
But that was just a dream
Dumbledore looked sadly across the Great Hall, his eyes catching on place after place left vacant by the resolution of the war.
Finally, his eyes moved to rest on Harry, sitting at the end of Gryffindor table, surrounded by emptiness. The students that should have been there to provide him with companionship had all died or been removed to other schools, and since a state of war had never been declared, they couldn't reassure people by lifting it.
The darkness in his eyes saddened the old man, but as far as he knew all overtures by the staff had been met with silence and over the summer he'd refused to remain in the same room as the headmaster, descending into a screaming rage when pressed. He'd deemed it prudent to desist once school started, not wanting the other students to see him screamed out of the room by the Hero.
He didn't know why had persuaded the boy to return to Hogwarts for his last year, but any hope he'd had that Harry would find healing here had died long ago.
Slytherin table was similarly decimated, but most of them were in Azkaban now. Better to focus on the heroic dead then those he had failed so. Though he was starting to wonder if he hadn't failed them just as much.
Harry looked up suddenly and met his eyes, and he had to fight tears at the dark humor in the formerly cheerful emerald eyes that said he knew exactly what he was thinking and was quite enjoying his remorse and guilt. After a moment of silent staring, Dumbledore found it was he who had to turn away. He looked down at his hands. Harry was turning dark, not in a way that said he'd turned to dark magic –which he'd never do, it was dark magic that had killed his friends, some of them before his eyes- but a darkness of spirit that Dumbledore couldn't get close enough to heal.
After a moment, someone from Hufflepuff stood and moved to sit beside him. After a few more, he was surrounded by students, mostly Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, but there were a few Slytherins among them. Dumbledore smiled slightly, but Harry remained silent.
'Perhaps it is only the fruitless dream of an old man,' he thought sadly as he stood and left the room.