The Prince's Tale

The Shrieking Shack, again

He did not feel the ecstasy he thought he would at the prospect of defeating, not only his enemy, but the world's. He did not feel relief, pain, nor sadness. He only felt fatigue. Harry Potter. Everyone knew his story. There was no need to tell it to anyone. He felt now, that the battle was over, that he was a changed person. He was no longer the boy who lived. He was the man who survived. The man who won.
As a boy he often wondered what his life would be like after he defeated Voldemort. Did this mean he would be able to live like everyone else? To live the life of a boy that was no different from others, no expectations, no hopes? Perhaps, he would go back to Hogwarts and finish his education. Only time could tell.
But now standing in Dumbledore's office, Harry could not think about the future. He could only think about the present. Now there was a whole lot of damage to be repaired. Dead bodies were to be disposed of. He dared not think of how many people had sacrificed themselves for him. People like Lupin, Fred Weasley, Tonks, Snape...yes, even Snape, the man he thought for years was not to be trusted. Dumbledore's murderer. Dumbledore asking to be killed? His thoughts were too muddled up to piece it all together. He would think about that another time, but nevertheless, he made a mental note to send someone collect Snape's body from the Shrieking Shack.
Apart from Voldemort's short-term occupation of the neglected Shack where he had washed his hands clean off Snape, no other action took place, and it was close to forgotten. Surprisingly it had remained intact throughout the battle, and if Snape hadn't been in there, it would have remained forgotten, and perhaps it would have been better that way.
Harry swept one last glance across Dumbledore's office and swiftly walked out. He remembered all those talks he had with Dumbledore, in this same office, year after year. The way he shouted at him and demolished his possessions without any shame, staring into the face that would not succumb to anything but fatigue and old age. And it did. But he had planned it all. Harry did not know what to make out of it, and right now, he wasn't bothered to. Upon entering the Great Hall, men and women were rushing about everywhere, the wounded and the deceased scattered across the floor. Despite it being all over, it would take a long time to restore peace as it used to be once. Harry remembered just in time as a man was rushing by, to pull him over and to inform him to remove yet another victim of the war from the neglected Shrieking Shack. As the man left, it occurred to Harry help out rather than stand idly and stare pitifully at all the damage he had caused. He received a list of the names of the victims, casualties and those missing, and that's when he felt his blood run cold. On the list were names of people that he knew once, people he actually talked to and interacted with. He gulped for fresh and set to work, and through a blurred eyesight he saw the man he talked to previously, return.
"There's no one in the Shrieking Shack," the man said.
"Good," Harry replied trying to steady his voice, "where is he now?"
"We don't know," the man said, looking strangely at Harry, "the Shack was empty when we came."
Dear God, thought Harry, I'm so tired I can hardly think properly, did I really hear this man right?
"The shack was empty?" Harry repeated.
The man nodded.
"The body of Severus Snape lies in the Shrieking Shack," Harry said, feeling slightly annoyed, "I saw him die!" Realizing he said this in a rather indelicate manner, Harry leaned on a wall and paused to think.
"Did you look everywhere?" he asked the man.
"Yes."
Maybe someone else took care of him already, Harry thought. But impossible, no one apart from him knew of Snape's fate...no one apart from him, Ron and Hermione.
I will go there myself, he thought, and without another word to the man, he left the Great Hall to trace back the steps he made on the night he thought he was going to face Voldemort, and found himself staring at the man he hated most instead. But as truth would have it, when  Harry arrived to the place where he remembered seeing Snape for the last time was empty. The only thing that remained was a pool of blood, slowly drying in the stuffy Shack.