That night had been particularly hard on him. Hell, it had been hard on everyone. Harry continued to replay the scene in his mind. Man versus man, hero versus villain, locked in the battle to end all battles.
He saw them circle each other like two predators, ready to kill at a moment's notice. One of them was a relatively tall and lanky boy of seventeen, with a lightning-shaped scar on his fore head. The other, a pale and sickly looking man. 'Man' wasn't the right word—Snake, maybe. The only thing these two had in common, as far as resemblance was concerned, were the expressions of pure hatred they wore on their faces. There was also a crowd, some living, some not. None of them made a sound—especially not the dead ones. Harry turned his attention back to the struggle at hand. The Snake looked a bit confused as the boy told him about the Elder wand. You could see the victorious gleam in the boy's eyes. It was then that the Snake chose to strike. His fury was almost palpable as he cast his killing curse. The boy countered with a glorious cry of 'Expelliarmus'! Then Something unimaginable happened. The Snake crumpled to the floor like an old, broken toy. He was dead, and the long war was finally over!
Voldemort was dead.
Harry withdrew from his reverie. Everything had happened so fast, and with no warning. This was the night after the battle, and Harry was the one who'd survived. Harry was the one who'd been destined to win. It all felt so new, and honestly, kind of great to be at the top. Finally. But, there were down sides to this happy ending. The first, being the fact that he could not seem to feel anything but the glory of winning. Why all of a sudden, did he become so numb? Was this what doctors meant when they spoke of being in shock? In a time when his friends mourned the deaths of those dear to them, he felt that he could not relate to them. It was an odd sort of emotional distance from the rest of the world. Everyone, and everything around him now seemed as insubstantial and uninteresting. He would have hated it. That is, if he could've cared about anything but himself for a few minutes.
The second issue wasn't really an issue so much as it was a minor annoyance. Ever since Harry'd banished Voldemort from his mind, he'd felt an emptiness in a place that seemed to have been reserved, in an odd kind of way, for Voldemort. Right in the center of his mind.
That wasn't even the weirdest part. What was strange and even a tad disturbing, was that last night, as he stared at Voldemort's body , the pressure of the emptiness began to push at his mind a little.
He looked out of his window in the direction of the Forbidden forest. Most people had gone home, but Harry, Hermione, the Weasleys, a few teachers, and what remained of the Order, had stayed behind at the school. When he looked back into the room, he saw that Ron and Hermione were still sleeping, entangled, and holding each other as if for dear life. This ordeal had almost broken them up, but Harry knew that things would be alright for them now. Ginny was sleeping in a room with her parents. Fred's death had really destroyed her. Harry thought it would be nice if every body could just rid themselves of their grief. Everything should just go back to a time when everyone was happy. Maybe then, he would be able to feel again. At the very least, it would make it easier to mask this strange detachment until the whole thing went away.
"What makes you think it will go away?" an unfamiliar voice chimed.
Harry jumped up, wand at the ready, "Who's there?"
There was no answer.