"Avada Kedavra"

"Expelliarmus"

The bang was like a cannon-blast and the golden flames that erupted between them, at the dead centre of the circle they had been treading, marked the point where the spells collided(…) Tom Riddle hit the floor with a mundane finality, his body feeble and shrunken, the white hands empty, the snake-like face vacant and unknowing. Voldemort was dead, killed by his own rebounding curse, and Harry stood with two wands in his hands, staring down at his enemy's shell.

Everything happened quickly. The great hall, which had been silent throughout the duel, suddenly broke into a loud commotion, Harry was unable to make sense of what was happening; his eyesight was foggy, and it was challenging for him to make out the many sounds emanating from all around him. He finally recognized two familiar heads, one with red hair and the other with brushy brown hair; their pale bloodied cheeks were dripping with tears of sorrow and relief.

As he approached their arms, Harry collapsed to the ground, his legs no longer able to support him. He saw his best friends hurrying to his side, and before thinking about anything else, they kneeled before him, and the three teenagers hugged like they never had before. Their arms were so tight and their faces were diving into each other's shoulders; they couldn't identify which hand was Harry's, Ron's, or Hermione's. They were one, one soul, one body, one heart. The hall fell silent again. Harry didn't want to let them go, they were the only link that was keeping him on this earth, the only thing that was keeping him awake and conscious of his surroundings. He started crying, his shoulders were shaking uncontrollably. He was free; it was over; Voldemort was dead, the wizarding world was safe, and he was alive.

"Harry..." Hermione was whispering in his ears, trying to connect with him and soothe him. But Harry didn't respond, he was still crying in his friends' arms, his breath in her long dusty hair, and his tears rolling down her neck. Ron sought to break free from his embrace, by gently grasping his left hand, which was clutching his jacket.

"Harry it's okay, it's okay" He breathed.

A new pair of hands arrived and reached Harry's face, making him open his eyes for the first time since he collapsed on the floor. Ginny's eyes were swollen, but she still managed to wear a beautiful and hopeful smile. She took Harry in her arms, allowing the two other friends to remove themselves from his grip. She smelled good, even after this terrible, cruel, violent war, even if she was covered in dust, blood, and sweat, Harry could still smell her natural flowery perfume that comforted him so much.

They stayed in this long and powerful embrace for what seemed like hours. Hermione and Ron were kneeling side to side, holding their breath as if one exhalation might make Harry disappear. He was alive, he was here, in the flesh, breathing, they had felt his heart beating, but they just felt like it could end at any moment, that if they dared to look anywhere else for a second, he would vanish and never come back. After what seemed like an eternity, Mrs. Weasley timidly reached her daughter's shoulder and whispered to them

"We should go now, Ginny, Harry sweethearts"

Mrs. Weasley's voice was soft but full of sadness and sorrow, her eyes were on the verge of tears, but she was trying to stay strong for her children, her husband, and the world, as if she was the mother of the entire school, of all these children who had fought tonight, who had seen death before seeing love. Ginny stood up without letting go of Harry's hand; he followed her but tripped; his hands were trembling violently in rhythm with his skinny calves, which were so skeletal he wondered how they could still support him. The others surrounding him looked to be asking themselves the same question, and Bill swiftly grasped his left arm.

"Easy easy, I'll take you to the infirmary." He whispered.

Why was everyone whispering? As if death could listen in and capture every soul who dared to stay on Earth? It was annoying and frustrating, Harry wanted people to shout again, to let their joy and relief burst forth. He wanted to see them cry, sing, laugh, do anything loud enough to cover up his own misery.

"Harry?"

It was Hermione, maybe, or Ginny. He couldn't make out people and voices anymore. They were just whispers, breaths, hands, and shadows. He let them carry him, wherever they wanted, he didn't care anymore.

"I'm alive..."

"Yes Harry... you are"

He didn't realize he had spoken out loud, he felt like he had no more control over his body or his brain. He felt empty, lonely, almost lifeless. Maybe he was, maybe he had actually died in this forest and had become a ghost... No, it was impossible, he had felt Hermione's touch, Ron's touch, Ginny's, and Bill's. Ghosts could not feel people. Maybe he was an inferius... But why did no one seem concerned or scared of him? Well, he wasn't an inferius then. It must have been the destruction of the Horcrux, he grew up with a part of Voldemort in him, all his life he had shared his soul with his worst enemy; and now, he was alone, just him, just Harry. He felt like he had lost a part of him, a presence who grew up with him, even if he had had no idea at that time. But this presence was Voldemort's soul, not a friend, and it disgusted him as much as it saddened him.

"Harry, stay with us a little while please"

Ron was watching him with the worried face Harry had seen too many times before. He looked around and realized they were not leading him to the infirmary anymore, and they were just the three of them.

"Where... what"

He was confused, Bill had disappeared, Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, the students, the teachers, the order, everyone.

"Harry, we are going to the dormitory, are you with us?"

Hermione. She was crying. Why was she crying? She has not lost anyone tonight, she is okay. No, it was not true, she had lost so much... How could he think she was fine? He felt disgusted with himself once again. She was explaining to him why they had changed their mind and were leading him to his bed, but he didn't care and was barely listening. He wanted to sleep, in his bed, in the infirmary, it didn't matter at the latest. He could sleep anywhere, she could have explained to him he had to sleep on the floor in the dungeon with Filch, and he would have accepted.

They reached the boys' dormitory before he realized it. He had lost every notion of time and space. He watched them whispering to each other. Again. He sighed, making them abruptly stop. Ron approached him carefully, and led him to his bed where the young man sat.

"Do you want to take a shower, Harry? Or maybe we could cast you a cleaning spell, I mean, Hermione could, I have no idea how to do it, well, It's just that you are covered in blood and dust, and you... kinda smell, weird."

Death.

"I think it could make you feel better too you kn..."

"Ron."

Hermione cut him off, her arms crossed. Ron turned around and looked at her, she motioned for him to focus on Harry with her head. He frowned and uttered a silent "what?" before looking at his best friend, whose eyes were closed and whose head was slowly tilting.

"Oh."

Hermione grinned and reached into her pocket for her wand. She quickly cast a cleaning spell on Harry before removing her own shoes and jacket.

"I'm going to take a quick shower, keep an eye on Harry... you should help him lie down on his bed before he falls on the floor."

But before Ron could do anything, Harry's eyes reopened and he grabbed his friend's sleeve

"I don't want... I don't want to sleep alone" He managed to articulate before dropping his hand heavily.

The two lovers glanced at each other in surprise and eventually decided to put three mattresses on the floor. While Hermione had disappeared to the bathroom, Ron gathered the sheets and the pillows and, after finishing his comfy installation, he gently took Harry's arm and led him to the beds.

"I'll take off your shoes and your clothes, are you okay with it?"

Harry merely nodded and let Ron undress him without any prudishness left, but he still felt relieved when his best friend stopped before reaching his underwear. An awkward silence pushed Harry to look up at his friend, who was gaping, his wide horrified eyes staring at his chest. Harry followed his gaze and saw, among many bruises and cuts, a thin scar above his heart, in the exact same shape as his famous lightning bolt one. He said nothing, and Ron did the same. The red-haired boy closed his mouth and gulped, trying to look away from his chest. He didn't want to make his best friend uncomfortable, and he didn't want to push him, not tonight. He was not stupid anyway. He knew deep down the meaning of this scar, and he didn't like the answer. Harry sighed and lay down on the mattress, closed his heavy eyelids, and welcomed the sandman with open arms.

(***)

"Ginny dear, can you go check on them, please? Just to be sure they are all right"

"Yes mom"

Ginny slowly headed up the stairs to the boys' dormitory. She carefully opened the wooden door and put her head around it, not daring to go in. She glimpsed the three teenagers in the middle of the room, deeply asleep and clutching each other, She grinned and closed the door.

They could sleep a little more.

(***)

Deep down, he had always thought he would eventually fail. He had pictured himself dying alone, humiliated by hundreds of death eaters, Voldemort's terrifying red eyes piercing through his green iris, his heart beating too fast, anticipating its own end.

Harry had only once tried to imagine his future, the possibility that he survived this war and won against Voldemort. It was in Ron's room, right before Bill and Fleur's wedding and right after his wet birthday present. He had closed his eyes and had tried to visualize the "after"; he had seen his own wedding, the soft touch of his lover, a smile, sparkling eyes, hair, and perfume. Kids? He was not sure. Happiness? Certainly.

It seemed like nothing he had pictured would become true. That's why he'd never liked being optimistic, hope would always bring deception. When Harry woke up the following day, he tried again to imagine his future. But all he had seen was pain, funerals, grief, and guilt. And he was right.

Fred's funeral had been the worst. He could still hear the cries of distress coming from the Weasley family, the smell of the wooden coffin carrying a friend, a brother, a twin. Harry had attempted to look at George, to talk to him, but he had failed miserably. He eventually stopped talking to anyone. Mrs. Weasley had asked him to stay with them at the Burrow, but he had managed to live there only for two weeks, before writing a short letter and vanishing to Grimmauld Place. His friends kept coming to see him, but he could tell they had no idea what to do to help him. And he didn't want any help. Ron and Ginny had lost their brother, and Hermione was still traumatized by the war and the torture. They had enough pain to deal with. But they were here, almost every day. They would not talk too much or ask any questions. They were just waiting for him to come back to life, to breathe again, and learn to exist. But he didn't come back.

On the day of his 18th birthday, on the 31st of July, Ron arrived at his place and forced him to eat at the Burrows with his family. Neither he nor Ron knew that this day would be the turning point of their entire future. After forcing him to take a shower, and dress a little better, Ron took him to the fireplace, and they vanished together towards the cozy home of the Weasleys. It took less than 10 seconds for Mrs. Weasley to hurry to Harry and press him tightly into her arms. It took less than 20 seconds before she told him that he was just bones and flesh, that he looked tired, and that he needed a haircut. She wanted to do well, to be a mother to him, but she didn't seem to realize she should have kept these comments to herself. Harry's merely shrugged and slightly pulled away from her embrace. He could see the entire family already sitting at the table, Fleur was here too, her unreal beauty shining through the room. Ginny was here, obviously, she was watching him just like the others, but something was different with her. He could not see any pity coming from her, there was no judgment, no expectation in her chocolate eyes, and that's what he liked the most about her. He sat to her left and waited, his eyes on his empty plate, his arms under the table. He had started the bad habit of torturing his fingers with his nails, it hurt, but the hurt was keeping him alive. Ginny had seemed to notice his new OCD, but she had remained silent. She was so perfect. Too perfect.

People were talking to him, he could feel the gazes, the various intonations that sometimes sounded like questions, and sometimes like declarations. But he was not listening. Maybe he was not interested, or just incapable of carrying on a conversation anymore. His brain was sick, his soul was scarred as much as his skin. He barely heard something about a baby and pregnancy, a round of applause, laughs, and hugs. Maybe Hermione was expecting a baby, no... she would have told him yesterday when she came to visit him. Well, he wasn't listening to her either, maybe he had missed this information... or maybe it wasn't Hermione who was pregnant. Fleur? More likely. He wanted to listen, he wanted to be attentive, but it was so hard, so painful. He felt like his brain was trying to cut him off from the world, isolating him, and he had no control over it.

"Harry sweetheart, eat something, you haven't touched your plate yet"

He glanced at Mrs. Weasley and looked back at his plate. It was full. How? He didn't remember anyone serving him food... When? Who? And why? He wasn't hungry. But he didn't respond and kept watching the chicken leg lying in front of him.

"Harry please eat, you are too skinny it's getting dangerous for your health dear"

Merlin, she was annoying, he was obviously not used to having a caring parent telling him to take care of himself growing up, and he would normally not be too bothered by Mrs. Weasley's motherly comments, but today was different. He was irritated by her attempts to help him, and he didn't know why. Despite the warning glances of her husband, she continued:

"Harry dear, do you hear me? Just eat the vegetables if you prefer, it's okay! Or do you want to wait for the dessert? I made your favorite, a treacle tart!"

Shut up, shut up shut up

She kept talking to him, but her words were becoming sounds, and sounds were becoming noise. He heard the words health, bones, tired, and when she started addressing his hair again, he exploded

"SHUT UP! PLEASE!"

The room fell silent. He stood facing the terrified and shocked woman who had dropped her plate of treacle tart on the floor. He immediately felt guilty, he had never talked to Mrs. Weasley like this, but his anger was now controlling his entire body and mind

"Harry..." Hermione sputtered

"JUST STOP, STOP TRYING TO ACT LIKE MY MOM, JUST LEAVE ME!"

"Harry... we're your family, you know that..." Ron whispered

Whispers... again.

"My family...?"

"Yes, Harry, your family" It was Mr. Weasley

"Oh yeah?"

Harry's guts were boiling, and his temper completely spiraled out of control. He started to scratch his fingers again.

"Were you there when Hagrid stepped over my dead parents to save me from the ruins? Were you there when Dumbledore abandoned me on my abusive family's doorstep? Were you there when they locked me in that bloody cupboard? Were you there when they called me a freak just because I dared to exist under their roof?! When they starved me? Hated me? Were you there every FUCKING time I faced Voldemort? WERE YOU THERE IN THE FOREST THAT NIGHT? TAKING THE KILLING CURSE LIKE MY MOM DID?"

He had absolutely no idea why he was yelling all of these awful things at them. He had never believed any of that, he had never been angry at them. He had always considered them as the closest family he could ever have, and he was so grateful for their support and love. So why was he saying this? Why was he so angry right now?

Nobody dared to speak, nor even breathe. Molly put her hands to her mouth, tears streaming down her pink cheeks. Hermione was crying too, Ron was frozen and holding his breath to the point where he was becoming as red as his sweatshirt. George was looking down at his plate, frowning. Ginny tried to step closer to him, but he immediately backed off, still panting.

" I... I don't know what to do, I don't know what I'm supposed to do now," he was crying "I'm tired, I'm so tired... I feel so lost, so empty, useless, I don't understand why I'm still alive, why I survived and not the others, just why?"

Everyone was on the verge of tears now, he felt guilty again for that.

"Harry..." Ginny was not sure how to phrase her thoughts. "You are loved, you know that? You are not useless in this world, you exist to live your life, to love and be loved, just that. You are not chained to anything else now, you're free, and that's what is scaring you now because you don't know this feeling, you have no idea how to handle freedom, and it feels too weird for you." She paused, watching his reaction closely.

"You need to let us help you, Harry, you need guidance in your new life and it's not a shame to ask for it"

"I, I don't want your help."

"Yes you do, and even if you don't want it, you need it"

"No."

He breathed deeply, trying to calm down, and closed his eyes

"You know, when I died that night, everything was so peaceful, I felt no pain, no sadness, just peace... and... I don't know, I don't know what's happening to me, but I need it, I need that feeling back, I want to go back so much..."

He could see Ginny's tears sliding down between her freckles and to her pink trembling lips

"It felt so right, I want to go back..."

"You can't say that Harry..."

"Yes I can, I'm the one trapped in this bloody life and bloody body"

"Harry, my boy" Mr. Weasley had joined his daughter and stopped at her side as if there were an invisible line they were unable to cross.

"Harry, we understand your struggle, even if we never experienced what you've been through... but we know what pain is, we lost friends too, we lost family too... I lost a son, Molly lost a son, and my children lost a brother.. and we don't want to lose you now"

It was too much for Harry, too much guilt, too much pain. They would never understand, never.

He took a look at every person in the room, at George who had not taken his eyes off his plate, at Fleur, who was heavily crying, god how could she remain beautiful with all these tears? He looked at Mrs. Weasley, who was on her knees, shaking like a leaf, Bill who was comforting her, Percy, so livid he could faint in a second, Ron who was breathing heavily, his eyes red, Hermione on his side, and there was Ginny, alongside her father, her tears made off love and empathy. Her intense gaze was piercing his bleeding heart, making everything worse, making his life even more miserable, even more unbearable.

"I'm sorry" He murmured, and he was sorry. He was sorry for losing his temper, yelling at Mrs. Weasley, sorry for not controlling his feelings anymore, sorry for Fred, Lupin, Tonks, Colin, Lavender, Dumbledore, Snape, Sirius, James, Lily.. sorry for being miraculously alive when the others hadn't had the same option, sorry for desperately wanting to join them, and sorry for feeling this empty when he should be happy and grateful.

He turned around and ran outside, before vanishing in the darkness of the night

"HARRY NO!"

They ran after him but it was too late.

It was the last time they saw him.