Sorry for not updating this in a long time, I lost interest in writing for a while, but now I feel like coming back to it.
This chapter won't have any snake-Harry in it, next chapter will.
Amongst the ruins of Hogwarts:
A human hand pushed its way up and up and up. It had taken a long time, but the hand was determined to see the sun again. It had been buried alive underneath the rubble for only Merlin knows how long. Eating whatever it could find in the destruction, worms and bugs were never out of the question either. It had spent what felt like an eternity burying the thousands, or so it seemed, it had lost count at 320, bodies of victims of Hogwarts in a dirt chamber that it never knew existed, and doubted that anyone else did.
It was so painful burying the bodies of children, children so young sometimes that they never had the chance to experience the beauty of life, their first crush, first kiss, first heartache. They had all died fighting for a common goal that they never saw the aftermath of.
Another hand joined its quest on moving up. It had seen that it's friend needed help for it had reached something that it couldn't move, couldn't grasp, couldn't push. Working together, the hands were able to wiggle whatever was blocking its path away.
Beams of light pierced through small holes in the pile of rubble, the first signs of true light that the hands had seen in a very long time. The journey to the top was almost complete, the hands pulled and pushed, juggled and jingled, poked and prodded, until a large hole was formed. The hands each grabbed a side of the hole, and shook lightly. A scalp of dirt covered wavy black hair, the tips of ears joined the parade, followed by piercing eyes of gray; a nose came up next, followed by a mouth that had forgotten how to smile. A neck came up chased by a tattered, dirty, old shirt that probably was either black or brown back in the day. Finally legs covered with a pair of holey pants came up through the hole, followed by shoes with rips exposed callused toes and ankles. The body jumped the best it could out of the hole, coming to rest on its front side lying on top of stone, glass, wood, concrete, dirt, mud, cloth, among the ingredients in the rubble.
The man breathed in fresh air for the first time in a long time. He got up on his hands and knees and crawled away from the hole that had held him prisoner for days gone by. He never wanted to see it again. Reaching the end of the rubble, he lifted his head, and in the fading moonlight, he saw beyond patches of brown and emptiness, green. Trees; a sight the man never thought he would ever have the privilege of gazing upon again.
The hands that had worked so furiously to free itself, turned into paws as well as the legs. Gray hair began to sprout all over, as his ears moved to the top of his head and became pointed; a tail grew from its posterior. A huge grim like dog stood on the edge. It leapt down onto solid ground, and ran into the forest.
Dog became man again a few minutes later, as he came into what used to be the town of Hogsmede. Looking around and seeing nothing but anguish and the hearing nothing but the sound of the occasional owl, he dropped down to his knees, head in hand, and began to cry. It was so overwhelming; he had never allowed himself to cry when he was burying the bodies, he couldn't, there too many to mourn each person individually. There was one body he was looking for, but never found. He could only assume that when Voldemort exploded, he took his final victim with him, the one who ultimately destroyed him, one of the few people the man ever allowed himself to love.
The man fell asleep there, as the moon dipped away, giving up to the red, orange, and yellow of the rising sun…
Did I make who the man is too obvious in this chapter?