Chapter Text
[Hogwarts – May 2, 1998]
On that day, May 2nd, 1998, the war that had plagued the wizarding world finally came to an end. Voldemort was defeated. Now he could no longer spread chaos, tear families apart, and separate those we love.
"I should be happy, shouldn’t I? But why do I feel this way? I spent so many years fearing for my life, hunting Horcruxes, and finally defeating him. Then why does this feeling remain? Because he took everything from me, stole away everyone I loved and who loved me. He took my parents, my godfather, 'Uncle' Moony, and so many others who fell in battle—parents, children, and professors who fought bravely to protect the students, from the youngest to even those in fourth year. And I couldn’t save them" —Harry reflected, overcome with frustration.
And there he was, the Boy Who Lived, or rather, the boy who had won. Sitting on the cold floor of the Great Hall, leaning against the wall, while at the center of the hall lay the bodies. Around them, grieving families cried and mourned the loss of their loved ones. As his gaze traveled across the room, he noticed the fiery red hair belonging to eight people weeping for Fred’s death. A deep ache filled his chest at the sight of the Weasleys with their heads bowed; they had welcomed him as though he were family. His eyes then fell upon Remus’s body—his "Uncle" Moony, the one who had taught him how to conjure a Patronus at the age of thirteen. He was hand in hand with Tonks, so clumsy yet so cheerful. Sadness consumed him as he thought of his godson, so young and already an orphan. His parents would never see his first steps nor hear his first words together. There they were—both gone.
"It’s not fair. It should have been me." —the dark-haired boy thought, his head bowed.
His thoughts were interrupted when he felt a pair of arms wrap around him in a tight embrace, filled with love and warmth, with curls tickling his face. It was Hermione, his best friend, who had always been by his side from the very beginning, through both the hardships and the joys, the one who had gone with him in search of the Horcruxes—his Mione.
—Mione —his voice gave away that he was on the verge of tears.
—Shh, it’s going to be all right —Hermione said without letting him go.
—Hermione, it’s all my fault —Harry said, his voice heavy with sorrow and regret.
—It’s not your fault. —She lifted his head and looked deeply into his eyes. —Come on, let’s go to the Room of Requirement. It’s better than staying here. Do you want to stay here?
—No —Harry said immediately.
—Let’s go. —The two of them left through the main doors, passing through the many wounded and grieving. They walked silently, the sound of their footsteps echoing as they made their way to the seventh floor.