Title: Possession
Rating: PG 13 (to be on the safe side)
Content: Mucho angst and character deathWord Count: 947
Character/Pairing: Harry, no relationship.
Summary: Harry thinks back over the war.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry or any other character mentioned in this story.
Notes: This is just a short little Harry fic that came almost out of nowhere, based loosely on the lyrics below. It's not supposed to give you a full story, just glimpses from Harry's memory.
Special Note: I don't write Harry much, so my Harry voice is probably shaky at best. I apologize.
Special Note 2: The title doesn't really fit. I am aware of this. However, it coincides with the song from which I got the lyrics. I might re-title later if I can come up with something.
Listen as the wind blows from across the great divide
voices trapped in yearning, memories trapped in time
the night is my companion, and solitude my guide
would I spend forever here and not be satisfied?
Harry looked across the battlefield that was once Hogwarts. For almost six years this had been the only place he had ever been content to call home. Now, two years later, it was nothing more than a bloody piece of land with bodies scattered across the grounds.
From all Harry could tell at this point in time he was the only one left. There were no signs of life when Harry arrived to tell his friends and loved ones he had succeeded in his task. Voldemort was gone. It seemed, however, Harry hadn't finished the job soon enough.
He couldn't bring himself to walk across the grounds. He knew what he would find.
Death.
That seemed to be all Harry had seen for the last year. Ever since going back to Hogwarts for his sixth year death had surrounded him.
First it was Neville Longbottom, who in the end turned out to be too brave for his own good. He had wanted to see Voldemort die almost as much as Harry. Instead Voldemort had gotten to him first. It seemed at that point no one was safe. He had, for all anyone could tell, been killed in his sleep, in what Seamus Finnigan had called a cowardice move on Voldemort's part.
"Scared. He must be, mustn't he? Otherwise he wouldn't feel the need to come after someone when they couldn't fight back."
Harry remembered hearing Seamus say. Harry remembered more than he'd like from sixth year. That was the first time anyone had been killed in the castle. It was clear that Voldemort wasn't going to let Dumbledore, or any wards, get in his way. Harry knew better. He was convinced Voldemort had someone on the inside, but no one would hear it. Especially not Dumbledore.
After that Voldemort started slowly going for other Gryffindors and anyone else he thought might be close to Harry.
Despite warnings, they had taken a trip to Hogsemeade in early November. This is when Voldemort attacked Cho Chang. She didn't make it either. Of course, no one ever really did once Voldemort called for their death.
Harry slowly began to cut himself off. He became distant from his friends. Not that they had made much of an effort lately. They knew when to stay away from him. But the fact that he wasn't spending time with them didn't stop Voldemort from calling for their deaths as well.
Ron was killed over Christmas. One of the few students who hadn't rushed home for Christmas.
Harry felt guilty. He knew Ron had stayed because of him. And that made it his fault that Ron was gone. Of course, this left the question of who could possibly be doing it.
Since Neville's death they had called for extra wards over the castle. Voldemort could not have gotten in, and at this point they knew he had someone on the inside. There was a student or teacher that was doing these things.
Dumbledore still didn't want to hear it, but knew he couldn't stop Harry. Harry would investigate further whether told to stop or not.
A month later Harry had proven that all along Professor Snape had been passing information to Voldemort as well as Dumbledore. Apparently he was Voldemort's inside source. All the time he had helped the order, Dumbledore had trusted him, and Harry had even at one point felt sympathy for him.
Harry didn't trust Dumbledore much after that. Not as far as his judgment went.
By the end of sixth year the war had fully gotten started. Everyone who had survived had either chosen a side or completely fled to another country.
It had been two years since the official start of the war. In the last months they had managed to significantly cut down the Death Eaters. There must have been less than a hundred left. The others had either been killed or had fled. Some at the last minute had even switched sides.
Blaise Zabini had actually proven to be an asset for the side of good. Draco Malfoy hadn't been heard from in over a year. Rumors flew about him. Some said he was secretly helping Harry, some said he was in hiding, some that Voldemort had killed him himself because of rumors that were spreading about his loyalties. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle had been killed by Harry himself.
As of last night it was down to Harry, Blaise, Hermione Granger, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, Luna Lovegood, and about twenty other witches and wizards who had managed to make it this far.
He had left to go find Voldemort, who had been in hiding himself for the past two weeks. Harry had gotten a tip, and he had left Dean in charge.
This is what he had come back to. A graveyard.
He took in the site around him. This was all too much. Harry didn't know what to think.
This is what it had all been for.
He had won. They had won. Voldemort was gone. But for what? Was this really winning? Everyone Harry had ever loved was gone. Everything he had lived for was destroyed.
Harry couldn't help but think if there had ever been a point to any of it.
For the rest of his life he would be alone. He would remember this. This site. This smell. The memory of his friends dead and bloody on the destroyed grounds of his old school was going to haunt him forever.
He had killed Voldemort.
But he hadn't really beat him. No.
In the end, dead or not, Voldemort had won. And Harry had lost.
And he would have to live with that forever.