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When the dust settles, Harry looks in front of him and sees the great and powerful Voldemort, Tom Riddle, lying dead in the middle of the Great Hall.
No more mortal than the boy who killed him. Surrounded by the young students of Hogwarts, the aging professors who taught the dead man, and the apprehended supporters who watched their leader fall.
The Hall stood in utter silence for a brief moment. The group was in shock and disbelief that the great and powerful Voldemort was defeated.
After nearly 30 years, he was defeated, gone forever, never to return.
Never to harm another soul, another family, another world.
Harry stood, breathing heavily, his eyes fixed on the limp body. His dead body.
The man who had caused Harry nothing but pain and cruelty since the day he was born. Harry realized that he was finally free.
Suddenly, the Hall erupted in celebration and cheers. Harry found himself crowded by all the new and familiar faces of Hogwarts.
The people he grew up with, the students whom he may have shared only a single class or Quidditch pitch with, all looked to him with gratitude and joy.
Among it all was that scent of flowers, the one that lingered in Harry’s happiest moments and dreams.
All of the fires out in the grounds had cooled, and the dust had settled on the broken cobblestone.
The sun began to shine through the windows, reminding Harry of that glorious feeling he felt when he first won a Quidditch match.
The nearly blinding lights of the game almost overpower the sun shining on his face.
He doesn’t think he’s felt that same feeling of pride, acceptance, and unfiltered joy.
Except for perhaps those unabashedly happy moments with Ginny.
‘Ginny…it’s been almost a year since those days.’
Harry’s mind wasn’t allowed to wander far before he was met with the comforting faces of Ron and Hermione.
They pulled him away from the crowd as the celebration erupted even further once Voldemort’s body was carried away by Centaurs.
Not without jeers and mocking towards the dead man from the younger students.
The trio makes their way through the castle, quiet as each part of the school grows louder with news of the War’s end reaching every room.
They find refuge in Dumbledore’s Office. The only place without a party. To be greeted by the portraits that applaud them in their defeat of the Dark Wizard.
The friends simply reflect on the time they had spent on their journey to find the Horcruxes and what to do with the Hallows.
The Elder Wand, the Resurrection Stone, and his beloved Invisibility Cloak.
Harry tells them that he had already left the Stone in the Forbidden Forest. Leaving it to the creatures that inhabit it.
They question what to do with such powerful items. All objects meant to escape death itself. To claim power and cheat for your own ambitions.
Harry quickly knew that he wanted to keep the Invisibility Cloak. The only thing that his parents passed down to him, the only thing he has of his family line, he had to keep close to his chest.
Besides, it’s the only Hallows that doesn’t harm the person wearing it or the people that it surrounds.
The Elder Wand is quite the opposite. So, the three of them agree that he will be buried with Dumbledore. Allowing for it to never belong to another holder, which would cause the Wand’s power to die with Harry.
After wishing the portraits farewell, the trio makes their way to the Gryffindor common room.
Finding the Fat Lady to be gone from her portrait, they simply push the portrait door open and walk inside.
The comforting room remains the same, yet complete silence adds a chill that Harry never thought he’d experience in the common room.
It’s completely untouched by the violence that was present throughout the rest of the castle.
Regardless, Harry’s exhaustion finally caught up with him. His body realizes the physical toll of running, fighting, and then dying to come back to life, all within 24 hours.
He bids his friends goodbye, leaving them to rest on a couch together, pressed close together. Resting their entire body weight on each other.
Harry simply smiles as he ascends the staircase up to the boys' dorms. Utterly happy and relieved that the two gits finally got together after so long.
It’s only muscle memory that takes Harry to his old room. Walking into the room that had held him and his friends since he was 11 years old.
The room looked almost the same. Almost. His and Ron’s side of the room looks the same as it did on the first day of the new year.
Bedsheets neatly folded, their section of the walls empty, and the bed curtains tied tightly to the posts.
Meanwhile, Neville’s, Seamus’, and Dean’s side of the room is far more lived in and as it should look by this time of year.
Dirty clothes under the bed, posters across each wall, and ink-stained bedsheets.
As Harry starts walking to his bed, his mind drifts to the first uninterrupted sleep he has had in months.
But he is stopped by a loud cracking sound, and Kreacher appears in front of him, with a sandwich wrapped in a paper napkin in hand.
Harry sits on his four-poster bed and takes the Ham & Mustard Sandwich from Kreacher’s outstretched hand.
“Thank you, Kreacher,” Harry tells him.
He gives Harry a slight nod, “It’s my pleasure, Master Harry.”
And with another sharp crack, he’s gone. Harry chuckles to himself and looks down at the sandwich before devouring it in only a few bites.
He then cleans his fingers and face with the napkin, discarding it on his bedside before collapsing onto his bed, covering himself with his blankets, and finally allowing sleep to settle in.
As soon as his eyes closed, he was out like a light. Finding a blissfully blank sleep.
No visions of Voldemort or dying loved ones. No dreams of beautifully freckled red-heads that he knows he can never be with.
~~~
When Harry wakes up, the sun seems to be in the same place as it was when he fell asleep.
His eyes were still tired and bleary, but much less tired than he was prior.
Harry looked over to his side table, finding his glasses folded nicely there and a small Muggle calendar, with May 3rd circled in red ink.
Harry put his glasses on and looked at his dresser at the foot of his bed.
He tried to quickly get up, but he found himself unable to stand when he did that. So, after taking a moment to breathe, he used the frame of his bed to pull himself up.
On top of the dark wood dresser was a set of nicely folded clothes, a toothbrush with a small tube of toothpaste, and a small note on top.
“Make sure to brush your teeth. Your breath stinks. -Hermione”
Harry chuckled and, as he changed into the red shirt and faded blue jeans, began to think of all of the people he needed to see.
His mind flew to Ginny instantly. ‘She was there in the Great Hall. After the duel with Voldemort, she went to me and was one of many who hugged me.’
Harry knew he needed to see her and talk to her properly. Surely, she wouldn’t hate him for leaving her, not when she joined in the celebration of the War ending.
Even if she doesn’t forgive him, at least he has a chance to make things right.
Harry thought of the final look he gave her when he went to die in the Forbidden Forest. He never thought he’d get this second chance, but he knew he wasn’t going to waste it.
Harry rushed downstairs into the boys' bathroom.
He takes a moment to look at himself in the mirror. His hair is the most striking change, still jet black and messy, but it’s terribly grown out. The back of it hits the base of his neck while his fringe nearly covers his eyes.
His eyes look tired and weathered, and his face looks hollowed in, something he hasn’t seen since he was very small. Before Hogwarts, before Mrs. Weasley’s cooking.
He has also grown some sort of facial hair. Although it looks more like a patch of short, prickly grass than anything remotely handsome. The dark, scruffy hair is patchy and itchy.
He wanted to try to fix it, but didn’t really know where to start. Perhaps Hermione might help him.
He could only hope that Ginny wouldn’t care as much; she’d already seen him like this, so what’s the point?
With a sigh, he used the toothbrush and toothpaste that Hermione had left for him. Rinsed his mouth in the sink and left.
As he made his way to the portrait door, Harry realized just how quiet the castle had grown. Even as he made his way to bed, there was still a steady hum from the celebrations downstairs.
But now it was all still and peaceful. He had never thought a quiet common room would be something he found pleasant, but he does.
He looks to see that Ron & Hermione are no longer on the couch, but there is a mess of blankets, snack wrappers, and pillows where they once were.
Harry began walking through the castle, occasionally passing by groups of young people. Giving him looks of awe, thanks, or respect. He simply smiled back at them and continued on his way.
The great school looks less like the haven of his childhood and more like a hurried, makeshift version of St. Mungos. The rooms of the castle were turned into infirmaries, family gatherings, or resting rooms for the Healers on a break from their shift.
And for the first time, non-human creatures were openly welcomed into the building. Whether to accept their help or to heal them as they too fought in the bloody battle.
Harry follows the sounds coming from the Great Hall, which was transformed into a holding area for the wounded waiting for healers to reach them, and as a resting place for the dead and their families.
Harry’s eyes scan the room, and he sees a sea of red hair at the far corner. A few of them are sitting on the makeshift benches or standing around, surrounding Fred, who is lying in a ragged camp bed. Harry starts walking towards them, eyes fixated on the family. The closest thing to his own family.
Ron & Hermione are the first ones to notice Harry. Ron’s arm around her shoulders, holding her tight as he rubs his thumb across her shoulder in comfort.
They are standing by Molly, who refuses to let go of Fred’s hand. Slowly, each Weasley turns to see him, soft smiles and proud looks find him.
Ginny is sitting beside her mother, holding onto her arm in unwavering support. She turns to him, and he feels his heart drop down to his feet.
Her fiery red hair is now mucked with ash and grime; the tips of it look nearly burnt by an Incendio. Her dark brown eyes are hung with purple bags, and flecks of dirt accompany her freckles.
Harry is quite certain that she has never looked more beautiful. Never looked more like the picture of hope & joy among all the tragedy that surrounds him.
He is reminded of why he came back to life in the first place. For the hope he has to try to be with Ginny. Only, now he is starting to doubt if she might feel the same way.
He realizes how appalling he must look to her. Perhaps finding a pair of kitchen scissors or a quick Scorgio to the face might’ve done him some good.
It’s been nearly a year, and she certainly could be with anyone that she wants, and they would have to be criminally insane not to feel the same way. In addition to being far prettier than any Veela he’d ever seen, she was brilliant.
Brilliant at anything and everything: Quidditch, classes, talking to people, and befriending others. Regardless of the differences between the two. She was quite plainly the kindest, greatest human being he had ever met.
What chance did he have with Ginny Weasley of all people? Especially when she gave him a chance, and he blew it. Dumping her at Dumbledore’s funeral, of all places!
Ginny let go of her mother’s arm and stood up, not looking away from Harry. Emboldened, he began to stride towards her. Ginny began to practically run towards him, eyes blazing.
They crashed into each other, her arms tight around his neck, with her face tucked into his chest. Harry wound his arms around her middle, burrowing his face in her hair, still smelling of flowers among the dirt and grime.
Their arms around each other, tighter than any magic could unwind. A few feet away from her entire family, but Harry didn’t care, at least not at present.
She’s here, he has her. Maybe not forever, but right now she wants him.
He felt his heart rate calm and steady with her mere presence. Ginny also let out a small sigh, one Harry found far too endearing.
She moved a hand to the back of his head, fingers through his long, matted hair. Her head turned to his ear, whispering to him, “We have so much we have to talk about.”
Harry nodded, “I know,” he whispered back. His fingers lightly brushed her lower spine.
Ginny, exasperated, “But I really don’t care right now.”
Harry pulled back to look at her. Ginny’s sweet eyes turned glassy with unshed tears. “We can do whatever you want,” Harry murmured, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear.
Ginny’s cheeks turned a soft rose, and she grabbed his hand, pulling him to the group.
Joining the Weasley Clan, he saw that no one left the conflict unscathed. Percy was nursing a large slash wound on his shoulder, and Arthur appeared to be unable to balance on his own, given the cane he held onto fiercely. And Fleur’s white-blonde hair held pieces of ash, rubble, and what Harry is hoping not to be blood.
Regardless of it all, Harry still felt immense relief and comfort at seeing all their freckled faces.
Arthur was the first of the group to greet Harry, and with support from Bill, the eldest Weasley, gave Harry a strong, bear-like hug.
Harry initially stilled, giving Ginny a chuckle, but then relaxed into the embrace. Afterwards, Arthur let him go and allowed Bill to give Harry a brief hug and a firm pat to his shoulder.
One by one, he was greeted by a Weasley; some gave comforting hugs like Fleur, while others took the Mickey out of him like Charlie.
Once he got to Mrs. Weasley, she looked at him as though he were a ghost brought back to life, which, in a way, he was.
Harry knelt to her and gave her a crooked smile. Mrs. Weasley let out a shaky breath and wrapped her arms around him; this time, Harry completely melted instantly.
Once she let him go, she looked up and down at his face and arms and down his torso. Her eyes frantically looked for any open wound or broken bone.
Harry took her hand and muttered, “I’m alright, Mrs. Weasley.”
He could see her eyes go glassy, so she simply nodded with her eyes down to the ground. Then looking up to him and patting his cheek fondly.
He rose as she looked back to her fallen son, holding his hand tightly as her husband took Harry’s place. Resting his hand on his wife’s shoulder.
Harry walked back to Ginny, who was sitting down on a piece of fallen stone as a makeshift bench.
He sat down awkwardly beside her, terrified to make her uncomfortable yet testing to see just how much she would give him.
His worries are soon extinguished as she loops her arms around his bicep, intertwining their hands and rubbing his thumb with her own.
Their sides pressed tightly together as she rested her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes slightly.
After some time, she shifted her head to rest her chin on his shoulder as Ginny murmured in his ear, "Believe it or not, you got the biggest reaction from Mum when she saw you.”
Harry turned to her and saw that signature smile that told him she was teasing him, causing him to grin ear to ear at her.
“Well, I’ve got to keep my favorite non-Weasley title somehow,” Harry told her back.
Ginny snorted and dryly replied, “Give the rest of us a chance, Potter. Not everyone can die and come back to life.”
Harry let out a laugh that caused his eyes to crinkle as he looked down at their intertwined hands.
“You know—“ Ginny began, her face and voice softened with genuine honesty, “she really does view you as another son. And everyone here reckons you a Weasley.”
Harry’s chest warmed with her declaration, but he’s never been the best with unfiltered generosity, so he tells her—
“Well, I hope you’re excluding yourself in that statement. Cause I don’t know how I feel if you reckon me a Weasley.”
Ginny lets out a snort and rolls her eyes. She moves her head back to rest on him as she looks to her family.
Harry briefly rests his lips on her head, not quite a kiss, but a gentle gesture to let her know that he was right beside her.
He looked to Ron, who smiled at him. They had been friends long enough to understand each other without words. ‘You deserve each other,” is what Ron had told him.
Harry let out a chuckle and gave Ron the same look, to which Ron laughed and pulled Hermione impossibly closer to his side. To which Hermione wrapped her arm around his back and tucked her head underneath Ron’s.
The silence was suddenly broken as Hermione’s eyes widened and looked to Harry, asking him, “Harry, did you brush your teeth?” asked Hermione.
Chuckles and small snorts are let out among the family, with scattered comments all questioning Harry about his morning hygiene.
That seemingly broke the blanket of grief surrounding them, and everyone began to talk about everything they had done since they had all been together.
Charlie had met a Muggle writing a book about dragons, to which Charlie gave genuine insight, before realizing he was a Muggle writing a fantasy book. “A quick Obliviate did the trick there.”
Harry didn’t notice that Ron looked down at Hermione in his arms, giving her a soft kiss to her forehead as she stilled at Charlie’s joke.
Fleur had met a Centaur from France. Bill claimed she spent two hours speaking to the women in French, earning him a pinch on the arm and “Ah deed not!” from his wife.
Molly even called Bellatrix Lestrange a ‘bitch!’ Which caused an eruption of laughter, and even a small smile on Molly’s face as she hid her face in her hand to cover her embarrassment.
“It was quite impressive, Mum’s a proper iron maid!” Ginny joked.
“Oh, hush, Ginny dear,” Mrs. Wealsey scoffed with a wave of her hand, yet a small smile gave away her pride at the compliment. Which only furthered the rain of laughter that filled their small corner of the room.
Harry looked around at the oddity of the situation. That joy was capable of being found even while surrounded by tragedy.
The weight of loss still hung heavy, but it wasn’t suffocating. At least not in the way that Harry had expected.
Throughout the morning, the house elves that inhabited Hogwarts’ kitchens brought out trays of sandwiches, soups, and cups of water. Herimone went up to one and asked if they needed any help.
The elf gave her a hesitant look but eventually nodded and summoned another tray. Hermione began offering food to other families, Ron followed quickly after, and soon other people began to offer their help to the house elves.
Once Hermione brought a tray to the Weasleys’, a friend of Bill’s came up to them as they ate. He gave Bill a brass pocket watch with a comically long chain, telling him, “The Portkey is ready whenever you all are ready. Just make sure you are all off Hogwarts grounds before, otherwise it won’t work.”
Bill placed the watch into the pocket of his long leather jacket, giving his friend a curt nod of thanks and goodbye. Fleur took her husband’s hand, giving it a firm squeeze, forcing him to turn to her.
A smile grew on his face as soon as he saw her. Harry then turned away at the soft, intimate moment of the couple. Then, looking back down to Ginny, who was talking to Hermione sitting across from her, while still holding onto Harry’s arm.
For the first time in months, Harry allowed himself to compare Ginny and himself to the relationship of Bill & Fleur. Hope began to bloom in his chest, and he smiled at the idea of having those soft moments with Ginny one day.
After a brief conversation between Bill and Arthur, the eldest Weasley boys worked to levitate Fred’s bed. Mrs. Weasley quickly threw a thin blanket over his body, only revealing his head and shoulders.
Bill, Charlie, Percy, and George each used their magic to lead the procession. They all equally carried Fred through the Great Hall, with Bill and George in the very front by Fred’s head as Percy and Charlie walked behind them at Fred’s feet.
Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione quickly stood. Each couple hand in hand as they fell in line to begin the journey home.
As they made their way out of the Great Hall, it was clear Mrs. Weasley was bound to break down, so Mr. Weasley quickly took her arm and guided her through the damp halls as they followed their eldest son out of the castle.
Harry looked around at the grounds, looking at all of the damage that the Battle had brought to the once Great Castle.
The large glass windows were shattered, littering the burnt, dead grass with their sharp glass shards.
Hundred-year-old trees had fallen, leaving spiked stumps all across the grounds and into the surrounding forest.
He and Ginny were at the very back of the pack, holding onto each other's hands tightly. Harry had to admit he missed the painfully familiar contact.
Everything about Ginny is so familiar, how she talks, walks, and acts with him.
If Hogwarts weren’t in such shambles and her brother weren’t currently lying dead in a floating cot. Harry would be oh, too reminded of those beautiful days he spent with Ginny last spring.
After the long walk, past grieving families and Order members, they made it past the grounds of Hogwarts and into a large open meadow.
Bill places the pocket watch into Fred’s palm, then, one by one, each member holds onto a piece of the long chain.
As soon as Harry, the last person to touch the Portkey, took hold of the chain. It all began at once; the group was pulled, spun, and transported home.