Here 'tis! School's almost over!

Chapter 42

Devastation

Slowly, everyone started to get up and trickle out. Harry remained where he was, his head in his hands. He couldn't believe what had just happened. Half of the Order had just walked out, intent on creating an organization where anarchy was the ruler. And Charlie, Charlie of all people had led it.

Before long, only he, Mr. Weasley, Ron, Hermione, Sirius, Lupin, and Tonks were in the room. Mr. Weasley laid a hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

Harry nodded.

Tonks took Lupin's hand. "You did wonderfully."

He kissed her gently. "I don't know what I can do for the Order," he whispered so quietly that Harry barely caught the words. "They believe in me, but I'm no better than they."

"They chose you for a reason," Sirius said fiercely. "That has to count for something."

Lupin sank into a chair. "I can't do anything for them," he said dejectedly. "Werewolves have fewer rights than ever. I can't even legally have a job where I'm in contact with humans for more than fifty percent of the time."

"You are human," Harry interjected. "It's only bigoted, miserable toads like Umbridge that say otherwise."

Lupin smiled bitterly. "Which wouldn't be a problem, except that bigoted, miserable toads like Umbridge have the law in the palms of their hands."

"Remus," Mr. Weasley said sharply, pointing at a window on the other side of the room.

They all whirled around to see what he was pointing at. On the sill, patiently waiting, was a golden-colored owl. Tonks crossed to it, forced the half-rotten window frame up, and held out her hand for the owl to climb onto it.

"It's to Harry," she said, frowning. "From the Ministry."

Sirius looked at him strangely. Harry shrugged and accepted the letter from Tonks. Very aware of everyone else's eyes on him, he broke the seal and unfolded it.

Dear Mr. Potter,

We regret to inform you that your post of professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is hereby cancelled due to the closure of the school. You are asked to return to the castle for the remainder of the week to help sort out affairs and clean up after the recent attack by supporters of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. We thank you for your cooperation.

Sincerely,

Gregory Wilson

Head of the Board of Governors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Harry sank slowly into one of the vacated chairs, breathing as though a fist had just slammed into his stomach. "What's wrong?" Lupin asked hurriedly, laying a concerned hand on his shoulder. "What's happened?"

"They… they've closed the school," Harry muttered. "They've closed Hogwarts."

He knew it should not have surprised him as much as it did. Of course they would have to close the school. The headmistress had been killed, and probably some students as well. Harry didn't know; he had left for Grimauld Place before the full extent of the damage of last night's attack had been evaluated. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Sirius sat down next to him. "You're sure? They've closed it?"

"Here," Harry said, handing him the letter. "Read it, I don't mind."

Sirius read it out loud to everyone in the room. Lupin began pacing, Mr. Weasley put his head in his hands, and Hermione looked positively stricken. Ron put a consoling arm around her shoulders. "It's alright, Hermione," he said soothingly. "It'll reopen once You-Know-Who is dead."

"I know," she whispered, but her voice was strained, and she sounded as though she were about to cry.

"I have to go," Harry said, standing determinedly. "They need my help. I dunno who's in charge now that Professor McGonagall's… gone, but someone's got to clean up. I'll be back by Sunday."

"You can come and stay with us," Ron said hopefully. "After you're done, I mean…"

Harry looked at him gratefully. "Thank you," he said.

He Apparated to the outer side of Hogwarts' main gate, where a sober-looking auror looked at him suspiciously until he told him he was a teacher and then let him in. Harry crossed the grounds of the only place he had every really called home. The ground was covered with the dew of mid-March, and the sun, just cresting the horizon, sparkled across it, making the grounds shimmer with unmatchable beauty. Harry felt the tears welling up behind his eyes.

He brushed them away hurriedly and ascended the steps into the entrance hall, through the great oak doors that stood open. He heard noises from the Great Hall; forcing back a moan of despair, he entered.

Harry took a step back as the scene met his eyes. Teachers were bustling around, some crying, some looking completely shocked. The tables were gone, and in a row across the hall lay the still, cold bodies that had suffered the night before. Harry let out a strangled sob.

"Harry!" someone called.

He turned around to see Jorden Andrews, beckoning to him from the entry hall. With relief, Harry turned away from the grim sight to face his friend.

Jorden's eyes were red and tears streaked his face. He embraced Harry.

"How… how many?" Harry asked past the lump in his throat.

Jorden turned away. "Sixteen," he muttered. "And one professor and four Death Eaters." He returned his gaze to Harry. "Ten of them were first- or second-years," he said hoarsely. "They were… they were kids! Kids who hardly knew the first thing about self-defense, who had done nothing, and they slaughtered them like cattle!" He shouted the last part, turning and slamming his fist against the stone wall. His shoulders shook in anguish. "They killed them," he whispered, his forehead touching the cool stone. "They killed them."

Harry could do nothing, could say nothing of comfort. He leaned against the wall and sank to the floor, burying his head in his hands. He could no longer hold back the tears; they threatened to overwhelm every rational sense he had left.

"'Arry," someone said from above him.

"'Lo, Hagrid," he said softly. He felt the giant hands helping him up.

"C'mon, kid, ye'll be more useful upstairs in the 'ospital wing. You too, Jorden. C'mon."

With gentle prodding from Hagrid, somehow they both made it up the three flights of stairs and down the hall to the hospital wing. Jorden explained, "The students were all sent home early this morning, except the ones who were injured. They're in the hospital wing, unless their conditions are so bad they had to be moved to St. Mungo's."

"How many were that bad?"

"Eleven."

Harry winced. "How many of them are expected to live?"

"Seven."

That nearly made him sob.

They pushed aside the door and stepped in. Harry's breath choked when he surveyed the scene.

All of the beds were full. Some students were a bloody mess, where others looked alright, only sleeping. Harry walked grimly towards Madame Pomfrey at the end of one row, tending to the wounds of a third-year Ravenclaw boy. She was weeping openly. When Jorden and Harry informed her that they were there to help, she smiled wanly through her tears. "Thank you," she whispered. "If you would get some clean linens out of the closet, Harry, and the bedpans out of the storage room…"

They spent the remainder of the day doing whatever they could to help. Neither knew much of anything about healing, but Madame Pomfrey gave them orders and they did as they were asked. As the sun was setting, bathing the grounds in a beautiful golden color that belied the devastation inside, Professors Flitwick and Slughorn came in to tell them that they would take their places so that they could go down and eat dinner in the staff room. It was a solemn affair; no one talked much, and very few people were sitting down to eat at one time. Harry hardly tasted his food, which he didn't have much stomach for in the first place. Jorden looked to be in about the same state.

After they ate, Harry told Jorden that he had to go to the bathroom, saying he would return to the hospital wing later. However, Harry made his way towards the Great Hall.

It was dark inside; Harry lit his wand and held it out before him. He didn't want to do this, but he had to know. He had to know who had been killed.

The wand light fell over each still face in turn, and each one brought a renewed wave of tears. He knew each one of them, had taught them, watched their progress throughout the year, smiled as he saw their improvements. Now he could only let out a strangled sob at each of their faces.

Towards the end of the line, he saw one that made his heart start pounding painfully. He dropped to his knees next to the body.

It was a first-year, still and pale in death, but with a calm expression on her face nonetheless.

"Arionna," he whispered.

The brilliant young girl who reminded him so much of Hermione, who asked insightful questions and progressed far past the rest of her year, would never breathe again.

Harry heard the footsteps behind him, but he did not turn around.

"I thought I might find you here."

It was Jorden. He knelt beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. Harry shook his head, unable to speak.

"Come on," Jorden said softly. "It does you no good to linger here."

He was a lot calmer than he had been that morning. Harry had no heart to resist as he led him out of the hall and back to the hospital wing, though as the night progressed, he knew that he was almost being more of a hindrance than a help. He was almost as much in need of medical treatment as the students he tended.

The next morning, Saturday, arrived, dawning bright and cold. The Great Hall was empty; parents had long since been informed of the state of their children's health. The castle required only the teachers to be gone to be left empty.

Harry packed his belonging sadly, pulling pictures off the walls of his room and books out of the closets. Every time he saw the empty desks, he felt the tears come back again. They hadn't really ever gone away since Thursday night.

He levitated his trunk and his various boxes to the gate, where he was met, for the first time that year, with no aurors. They had gone home, now that there was nothing left to guard.

With one final look at his school, his castle, his home, Harry turned around, summoned up an image of the Burrow, and Disapparated.

A/N: Sorry for the depressing chapter. I know, it was rather… erm, morbid, but it had to happen. Thanks for bearing with me.