Authors note:
the work is dedicated to my dear co-author Yukari2S. Without him, there would be no first chapter. I will be grateful to him for the rest of my life.
The fight was over.
It felt surreal, Voldemort was finally dead.
Harry sighed, feeling exhausted. He was lying on the grounds of the Forbidden Forest, hiding from the rest of the world, from his friends and from those he considered family. He just wasn't ready to face reality, to see who made it and who didn't. A lot of people had died, it was war after all, but he couldn't help but feel it was all his fault one way or another. It would be easier for him to just avoid everything. He wouldn't have to see the bodies of all the friends who died for him, and he wouldn't have to feel his heart fall into his stomach for all of them.
Especially Fred, Remus and Tonks. They were so young, and they all left people on earth to grieve for them. His heart ached whenever he thought of his own godson, Teddy. Poor Teddy Lupin who just lost both of his parents to a war against a madman, just like his own parents. Luckily for him, his grandmother was still alive, Teddy wouldn't have to grow up hating himself for something he couldn't control.
"War is a cruel mistress" Harry though. She doesn't spare anyone. It cost the lives of hundreds upon hundreds of innocents, separated and destroyed families. He had to die so that it all stopped, yet here he was, somehow still alive after surviving the killing curse for a second time. Harry tried to get up, but felt a brand new kind of pain. It was curious, despite being used to pain from such a young age, nothing could prepare him for this… a cold, heart-stopping, gut-wrenching kind of pain like the sorrow of the dead. He could physically feel something painfully sharp dragging on in his chest, leaving a trail of aching wounds on his heart. Something he couldn't catch.
Gradually, that feeling grew stronger, spreading through his body like a wildfire in a forest. Then it stopped almost completely, leaving only a sliver of pain behind, like a phantom pain of a lost limb. The feeling echoed in his heart with every breath he took. Sometime afterwards, Harry managed get up. He went towards the castle, stumbling at every step. The bodies of those who died, both friend and foe, were no longer visible. Only the smell of pain and death remained, along with the rubble of the now destroyed Hogwarts.
Harry straightened himself, adjusted his clothes and breathed in deeply. "Come on, Harry. You can do this… You have to do this... For Everyone." he said to himself as he hurried to the Great Hall. He had to show the people of magical Britain that the war was finally over. As he came closer, he could physically feel the grief of every single person reunited on the castle grounds. People crying, hugging one another as if their lives depended on it, grieving for their deceased loved ones. The entire Great Hall was littered with corpses, rows upon rows of bodies covered with plain white sheets, probably spares from the infirmary. Harry felt a lump at his throat, Despite the fact that he spent quite some time mentally preparing himself for this, he still wasn't ready. He went straight to the center, where the entire Weasley clan reunited in front of Fred's body, concealing it from prying eyes. A sharp pain pierced through his heart, like a red-hot dagger, however, this time it was different. It wasn't as intense as the pain he felt while in the Forbidden Forest. He snapped back to reality as he felt Ginny put a hand on his shoulder, a sense of dread filling him seemingly without explanation.
"Let's go back to Gryffindor Tower, Harry," she said softly. "We need to talk. Ron and Hermione are already waiting for us there." She smiled at him, her teeth, a bright white shining back at him, and he knew that he should have felt happiness, but he didn't feel it. Her words felt cold and empty and her smile felt false and forced. But Ron and Hermione were waiting for him, so he just agreed "Okay" Harry said, smiling back at her "Let's not keep them waiting"
They walked through the Great Hall, careful not to disturb anyone. Harry involuntarily cast a glance at the dead. On the very last row, Harry saw a child, the youngest of all those who were grieving. He was so small that he could not give the appearance of being eleven years. He sobbed inconsolably over a body not concealed by a blanket, yet Harry still couldn't figure out who it was. Oliver and Neville held the crying child tightly, he was struggling to get out of Neville's grasp "He is my brother!" He cried "He can't be dead" Suddenly, Harry felt a tightness in his chest, as if an invisible hand had twisted his insides and turned them over, squishing his heart.
He fell into a world of void.