The broken glass cracked beneath his feet; the gravel of battle left for the survivors to perform their victory march on. But there was no victory march on the shattered fragments of their lives, no glory to be had in such a phyrric victory. Harry raised his face to the yawning holes where the glass had once formed sheets of protection against the relentless heat and ice of the elements. He knew Voldemort had long prized Hogwarts for the secrets it may yet still have held for him, but Harry had never thought he would bring the fight so close to its doors.

He kicked at the torn flap of black fabric that clung to a particularly vicious shard of glass, wondering if it was Death Eater material or a more innocent cloth. But they were all the same now, weren't they? Innocent and guilty, killers, fighters, lost souls…dark and light thrown together in a melt of malice that had been unleashed and whipped into a fierce frenzy by someone – no, something – so consumed with hate that it had seared everything in its path.

Voldemort had ensured that, though they had won the war, they had conclusively lost their peace-of-mind. All innocence and surety had been sluiced away by a rain of bitterness and hate. Yet Hogwarts stood still, disjointed and battered, raising stubborn walls to the sky in a silent protestation at the death and dismay that had visited it that night.

Ruby streaked the dawn sky, reflected striations of the blood spilled on the soft earth below. Harry plucked a piece of glass from the ground and held it to the light, watching as the weak sunshine filtered through its imperfect surface. He closed a worn hand around the cold sharpness, feeling the prick of sorrow that its tattered edges caused against his warm skin.

As he turned away from Hogwarts, turned away from the pain of the past and into the weariness of the future he knew he would never return. Death stalked the very air surrounding the castle and he had seen enough murder for one lifetime. Now was the time for living, in whatever feeble way he could given that he had so little left to live for.