II. Harry's POV
It was over. It had been a long day- a long year- a long life, a long war. And it was over.
Finally.
Though I had seen it with my own eyes, I had a hard time believing Voldemort was truly dead. He had eluded death for so long it seemed impossible. I ached with the heaviness of it, and could not help but touch my scar once or twice. It would never hurt me again. Impossible. Hadn't it always since he came back? After all the fighting would it end so quickly? He had always found some other way to come back. But I had seen his corpse. I should be glad- shouldn't I?
Shouldn't I?
No, I could not be- there was no way I could be. Too many had died, all so much braver than I was. People who had shaped me, been around my whole life. Hogwarts would never be the same. Lupin- Lupin- well, I still had his precious son. My Godson Teddy. I would take care of him as my own. Never had I been so thankful, so glad that I had made things right with him. Though with others I was not so fortunate. I tried not to think about it just now. Any of it. All I could do was honor them the best I could, remember them. It all seemed so startlingly close.
I was hit with the brute force of it and could do no more than take gasping breaths. It would be a while before I recovered, could sort it out and make sense of it all. So many lost. I wished I could not feel; I could not sympathize with the Weasleys as it was. I never had a brother, would never be George, living my whole life without- At least he was with them, and Tonks rested with Lupin. It seemed only right. She had loved him as much as Snape loved my mother… enough to change her Patronus. That was powerful stuff. Professor McGonagall had told me that she would go back for Professor Snape's body and bring it to the Great Hall with the others. I only thanked her, being too weak- or too tired- to say more.
Though sleep would bring nightmares and I would try to avoid it as long as possible, nothing new, I didn't exactly want to be alone with my thoughts either. But downstairs the chaos was sure to be more than I could handle; I'd had enough of insanity and wanted to stay away from glowing admirers too. I felt trapped inside myself and out. Only for a little while, I breathed; only for a little while. There was no one else in Gryffindor Tower and certainly not in my dormitory, and maybe that was why the soft rap on my door nearly made me jump out of my skin.
"Professor McGonagall!" I should have known. Who else would it be, really? "I'm sure you're tired and could use some rest. We all could," I tried, but she did not hear me. On the verge of tears, she – who had already been through hell tonight- was close to breaking down. That was something I did not care to see. Worry joined that sickening lead weight; if something were truly wrong, though, she would be close to frantic.
"What you said earlier, about… a-about Severus, it was true!"
"Of course it was-"
"This proves it. Fawkes was called to him. He was loyal." All of this did not take more of a split second to register in my overworked brain. Fawkes, a phoenix with magical healing tears who saved me in the Chamber of Secrets… from poison from a snake… all because I was fiercely loyal to Dumbledore. This could only mean one thing.
"He's alive-" Somehow she managed to give me a real, true smile, one that meant I could not doubt her.
"We have admittance into the Hospital Wing."
I had no idea how I could walk so fast. When Sirius died it took me forever to get over my denial. I didn't believe he was gone because I did not want to. Now it was the opposite. There was no doubt that Snape was dead; I had witnessed it, Voldemort said himself he had killed him. Nothing to it. I did not believe McGonagall, though all of me wanted to.
"How bad is he?" I asked Madam Pomfrey. Much of Hogwarts was rubble now, ruined totally and so destroyed that it would take all summer to repair, like the Hufflepuff's basement, the Entrance Hall… but the Hospital Wing was somehow spared. However, those hit by the worst curses had been dispatched to St. Mungo's. The school had cleared out much faster than expected. Madame Pomfrey, of course, remained. "Stable, even optimistic. Phoenix tears definitely did the job as far as blood poisoning goes, but he lost a lot of blood too. He needs to stay on a n IV for now, lots of potions and mends. But it looks good." Encouraging so far. Then she leaned in closer, making me nervous for a fleeting instant. Her voice dropped by about a hundred degrees.
"Oh, Harry, please tell me it's true…." She sounded as if she were about to cry, and a meek huff escaped her as I gave a curt nod. A real tear fell down her cheek as I slipped past her and into the wing. Rom and Hermione were already there, focused intently, and so I did not look at Snape at first. When I did, though, I did not gasp or notice anything inherently wrong, besides of course the IV-drip hooked to his arm. There was not even a bandage on his neck. It had been cleaned, obviously, but the bites themselves would be practically invisible. He was lucky; he could be sleeping.
I let out a breath, unaware I had been holding it to begin with. "I don't believe it," said Ron at last. He should not even be here. In spite of myself I gave a small smile.
"It's okay. Go and be with you family- they need you."
"So do you, mate. I wanted to stay here, and Mum's still helping clean up…" Nothing could mean more than their endless support. I was extremely fortunate to have them.
"You guys have been awesome through all this."
"We're always there for you, Harry. But how could we have been so incredibly wrong?" asked Hermione. Not once did my gaze leave the thin figure from the bed.
"I know. I can't tell you how thankful I am. And it's as simple as this: we weren't supposed to know." Neither said anything to this. It was over. Voldemort's reign of terror. Everything we were fighting for, we won. Just like that in the blink of an eye. Still unbelievable.
"I still don't understand," Ron went on. This made sense and did not make sense at the exact same time.
"He's the one that gave us the sword of Gryffindor. We could not have won without him. He should be here." Hermione was just shaking her head sadly. At least I knew she had already discerned that much from what I said about the Patronus but Rom appeared incredulous still.
"You won't see me much for the next two weeks. Lots to do at the Burrow." The rest went unsaid and I ached for him. I would be by their side in an instant if I weren't such an intrusion on something private and personal, and if I was not needed more here. There was nothing else to it. The Weasleys needed to grieve alone, together, in a single yet broken family unit. I could not handle it, could not be strong for them. I'd had my fill of sorrow for a while.
"And it looks like I have some memory modification to undo." Hermione was positively grinning and I felt so happy for her. She would get her parents back, and kids like us should be with their parents. I was thrilled for her. "So I'll be in Australia for a while, until we get it straightened out."
"Wonderful. I want to stay here, for a while. Guess we'll all be going our separate ways for a bit." I was still practically gaping at the sallow, still face, unmoving- he was here and he was not really here. The silence was pressing in on us, suffocating.
"It's only for a little while," sniffled Hermione., wrapping her arms around me like she would never see me again. Ron rolled his eyes and hugged us too. We promised to write.
"Take care, Harry," they chortled as they left, on their own adventures. Their presence had indeed been a comfort over the last year, and I associated it with stress and war and meticulous planning. It had been so long since we had just been friends, and we needed time apart to regroup. Besides, I needed to be alone to quiet my mind. Settle myself.
Hogwarts was not deserted until midday the next day, but it was much longer until all the corpses had been claimed and remains sorted through. There was an aura of death in the rebuilding of everything, cementing me in and catching me in its grip as things were built back up. I did not want to escape it; it was, familiar. I did not want to sleep for fear I would wake up and it would be a surreal dream, lest I get trapped again in a nightmare that turns out to be real life. I could not leave that hospital room; Snape did not yet know I was alive still. He could not wake up when I was gone. No, that would never do. Being there seemed to anchor me to the physical realm. He did not wake up, though. Every hour passed with the same result. Hours turned into days. It was like tending a coma patient. No movement, only the faint inkling that they could possibly hear you if you were trying hard enough.
I do not remember half of the things I said. Madame Pomfrey can tell you better than I. She was talking to myself. If I didn't know better I would have said Snape was Petrified. "If you did I cannot avenge you anymore," I would often growl evilly, though I knew he did not care about those things. It was not fair.
What had ever been fair?
Had I received him back from death only to be deceived? Hagrid told me once that no one lived once Voldemort decided to kill you, except me. This made me angry. "Why are you doing this? Every day you beat him for sixteen year. You beat him. Are you really going to let him beat you now?" Luna Lovegood (sent by the teachers to check on me) told me I sounded simply horrible, that I said such awful things. I told her I meant them.
My fury dissolved into shaking, collapsible worry. Every day Luna left me fresh clothes and House-Elves brought me food. I did not let the greasy-haired figure out of my sight. He couldn't wake when I was not there. McGonagall sat with me most. She told Snape that he owed her from their last Quidditch bet two years ago, and also that she missed him.
