Harry and Ginny walked into the Great Hall, hand in hand. Many more people were there than before; it seemed that practically everyone who had survived the battle was in attendance. Harry's reunion with Ginny had left him in high spirits, but he could sense the solemn mood as soon as they entered the Hall. It was much harder to ignore the previous night's tragic events when proof was lying just a few rooms away, in the form of fifty plus bodies. Harry's smile slid off his face as he and Ginny approached the grim group seated at the Gryffindor table. He saw Ginny's face fall and knew that she too had returned to her mourning state. They took seats together next to Ron and Hermione. Even Ron, who had been so like his usual self a few minutes prior, looked distraught, his eyes red-rimmed. Trying to ignore the grief that had surrounded him on all sides, Harry looked towards the staff table. After a few moments, Professor McGonagall stood up and started to speak.

"To many," she began, "today is a day for great celebration. And that is not wrong. An evil man has finally been defeated, never to return. It is an occasion certainly worthy of a party or too." She paused, and Harry saw the tears glittering in her eyes.

"But we are not the many," she continued. "Unlike them, we did not sit at home and wait for news of Voldemort's defeat to come. Unlike them, we did not hope that others would step up and accomplish what so many have failed to do. We were the ones that stepped up, that took part, that helped to ensure what will hopefully be an everlasting triumph of good over evil." A cheer rose up among the crowd, but Harry did not join in. He knew what was coming next.

"However," McGonagall broke in, "victories as great as this one are rarely achieved without sacrifice." The room became completely silent. "And it is those sacrifices that we honor today." She pulled a scroll out of her cloak, and began to read:

"Fifty-four of our people lost their lives last night in the Battle of Hogwarts. These fifty-four people were men and women, students and teachers, purebloods, half bloods, Muggle-borns. All these people who have one thing in common: They selflessly risked their lives last night and ended up making the ultimate sacrifice. They gave their lives so we could sit here today. And that is why we honor them . . ."

Harry already hear people sniffling as Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and began to read off the names:

"Anthony Goldstein, Ravenclaw House ... an extraordinary boy who was heading towards a great future ..."

Michael Corner and Terry Boot were sitting next to each other at the Ravenclaw table, looking hardened. Harry felt a pang of guilt; he had been a DA member. Had he not taught him well enough? Had he failed?

McGonagall continued reading; she rattled off the names of four students and one Auror – all of whom Harry had never heard of. And he felt sadness just the same; all these people gone, in just one night. . .

"Colin Creevey, Gryffindor House, a young man with more bravery than most of the people I have ever known . . ."

Harry remembered seeing Colin's body last night and how indifferent he had felt then, but now he was certainly making up for it. He could barely hold in his tears, and didn't even have to turn his head to know that Dennis Creevey was sitting a few feet away, sobbing in the arms of his Muggle parents. What a horrible way for them to first see Hogwarts, he thought to himself. He heard Ginny choking up next to him – of course she would be upset . . . he was in her year . . .

As Harry struggled to control his emotions, McGonagall kept up with her endless recitation. Ten more names were read, a few that seemed vaguely familiar to Harry. And yet they had all known him, had stayed to fight, to help him . . .

"Professor Sinistra, the only current Hogwarts teacher to perish and an excellent one at that . . ."

Harry shook his head; he had had Sinistra for astronomy in previous years. She was a good person, she didn't deserve to die . . . But of course she didn't, Harry reminded himself. None of them did . . .

McGonagall continued. Another twenty names left her lips, another twenty who would never be again. And all Harry could do was wait and listen for more, for the names he dreaded the most . . .

"Zacharias Smith, Hufflepuff House . . ."

Harry's stomach flip-flopped. Another DA member . . . He was surprised Zacharias would have even chosen to stay, he had never seemed like the kind of guy to stand up and fight . . . But then again, people change. They change and they die and they never come back . . .

Seven more names – could they really not have reached fifty-four by now? Or at least fifty-one, there were still those three names . . . And just as Harry thought this, McGonagall's mouth opened again:

"Nymphadora Tonks . . . more commonly known at "Tonks", a brave Auror, wife and mother . . ."

Harry was on the breaking point; tears built up in his eyes, yearning to be set free. Hermione was already sobbing openly in Ron's arms a few feet away and Ginny looked on the verge herself . . .

Another five were read out. Harry felt even more pain, pain for those he had never known but mourned for anyway, and then finally, just the two left. . . McGonagall appeared to be losing control of her own emotions as she read out the first:

"Remus Lupin, former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher . . . a great man and a new father . . ."

Harry could barely take it; he was bursting at the seams, ready to explode . . . and finally, the last name . . . McGonagall herself was practically sobbing, barely able to get out the words:

"Fred Weasley, Gryf-Gryffindor House . . . a great young man . . . always happy. . . a wonderful brother-"

And then, Harry let it out. Like a dam breaking, tears began pouring rapidly out of his eyes. He cried not only for Fred and the other fifty-three but for everyone: Hermione and Ginny sobbing in each other's arms as Ron buried his face in his hands; George looking as if he himself had died and Percy awkwardly patting his back, with tears streaming down his cheeks; Mrs. Weasley wailing as Mr. Weasley tried helplessly to provide some comfort; Bill and Charlie sitting stone-faced but unable to hide the small tears that leaked out; his former Quidditch team, seated near the back, mourning their lost Beater; the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws crying for their own fallen members; the teachers, guilt-ridden over the loss of students that they could not protect. He cried even for those who weren't present - for his parents, victims of the first war, and Cedric, the first victim of the second. For Sirius, Dumbledore, Mad-Eye, Dobby and all those who had come and gone in between. For Severus Snape, who deserved the most glory and received the least . . .

And then, finally, as his tears began to dry and everyone in the hall started to compose themselves and bury their emotions deep once again, he let one final tear fall for himself, Harry Potter ... The Boy Who Lived.