Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.

Challenges listed at the bottom.

Word Count - 581

Warning - self recrimination/guilt/mentioned character death

Devastation Only He Knew

The wizarding world at large was devastated, but it was still the personal losses that cut the deepest. Each death was a wound that wouldn't heal as easily as a physical injury, and waking every day was like rubbing salt into each one.

The questions of why he lived when others gave their lives; or rather, when others lives were stolen from them by a power hungry megalomaniac.

Harry's own devastation was quiet. It was Fred, and Remus and Lupin, and it was still Sirius, and his mum and his dad, and it was everyone in between.

It was Colin, who was too young to fight and too young to die. It was Lavender, who while still alive, was irreparably changed. It was Dean, left blind, and Hannah, brain addled to the point of no return by a cruel Death Eater that chose torture over death.

Harry had never asked for perfect, had never wanted a garden of eden, but this…

He wondered if it was worth the price.

…

His hand ached as he dropped his quill to the desk in front of him. He'd hand written letters to every single family of the victims of the final battle, and still, it didn't feel enough. There was no recognition for those who'd fallen before the 'grandest battle in wizarding Britain's history'.

He hated to even reference the title in his mind because it wasn't the grandest battle; it was a battle that should never have happened.

It was a battle forced by adults and fought by children.

The funerals had been taking place for days, and Harry had almost forgotten what colour looked like. When he thought back on them, all he could see was a sea of black and crystallised tears.

For many of them, Ron and Hermione had stood by his side as they had for so many years, and even there, Harry felt a disconnect.

They were devastated too, but they had each other.

…

Being alone in pain, was better than being in pain in company. At least Harry thought so. The pitying looks, the sympathy and empathy, it drove him mad.

Yes, other people had lost. He knew that, and he understood they suffered as much, if not more, than he did.

He knew that.

But his pain was different.

It was different because other's pain was clean. It was the pain of losing a loved one and being devastated.
For Harry, it was dirtied by guilt. For Harry, it was the pain of losing loved ones, and young ones, and old ones… it was the pain of knowing that all of those lives were lost because of him.

Nobody could understand that pain.

Because he was the only one left to blame.

…

They told him that it wasn't his fault. His friends tried to force the sentiment on him, because it was Voldemort's fault, and those that followed him.

Harry knew that, and he agreed with it. It was Voldemort's fault, and the Death Eater's fault, and it was Dumbledore's fault, and probably the Order's, and the Ministry's and many others.

The war couldn't be laid on Harry's shoulders.

That was true.

But that battle, that grand battle that ended the war and cost so many lives… that was Harry's fault.

He led the way, and he stood his ground.

And that lay on his, and only his, shoulders.

And that was a devastation that he'd know for the rest of his life.

Written for:

Hogwarts Olympics, Ice Hockey / Gold - contains no dialogue / 1. Devastated

Galleon - 9. Quill

365. 166. Eden