The Boy who lived and The Boy who survived (Drarry)

Chapter 55: Harry's Last Farewell

2 years ago. The Battle of Hogwarts. Hogwarts castle.

The castle was unnaturally silent. There were no flashes of light now, no bangs or screams or shouts. The flagstones of the deserted entrance hall were stained with blood. Emeralds were still scattered all over the floor, along with pieces of marble and splintered wood. Part of the bannisters had been blown away.

"Where is everyone ?" Whispered Hermione.

Ron led the way to the Great Hall. Harry stopped in the doorway. The House tables were gone and the room was crowded. The survivors stood in groups, their arms around each other's necks. The injured were being treated upon the raised platform by Madam Pomfrey and a group of helpers. Firenze was among the injured. his flank poured blood and he shook where he lay, unable to stand. The dead lay in a row in the middle of the Hall. Harry could not see the bodies clearly, because the Weasleys were surrounding them. George was kneeling next to the bodies, with Fred beside him, both with their arms around each other's shoulders; Mrs Weasley was sat next to them, dabbing her tears with a handkerchief as Mr Weasley stroked her hair while he fought back tears of his own. Without a word to Harry, Ron and Hermione walked away. Harry saw Hermione approach Ginny, whose face was swollen and blotchy and hug her. Ron joined Bill, Fleur, and Percy, who flung an arm around Ron ' s shoulders. As Ginny and Hermione moved closer to the rest of the family, Harry had a clear view of who the bodies had belonged to, and his heart sank at the revelation.

Remus and Tonks, pale and still and peaceful-looking, apparently asleep beneath the dark, enchanted ceiling their hands touching even as they slept. The Great Hall seemed to fly away, become smaller, shrink, as Harry reeled backwards from the doorway. He could not draw breath. He could not bear to look at any of the other bodies, to see who else had died for him.

"Harry." He could hear someone calling his name as he stood rooted to the spot. "Harry." The voice came again.

He felt arms embrace him as his vision cleared. He looked down and saw Mrs Weasley's fuzzy hair and strong arms hold him tight as he struggled to fight against it, struggling to let go of the embrace he felt like he didn't deserve.

"Harry, shh." He heard her coo. "I'm so sorry..."

"It's all my fault." Harry felt his tears well up. "It's all my fault. It should have been me!"

"HARRY!"

With an effort, he tore away from her grasp, ignoring the many calls of his name as he ran, further away from them. He could not bear to join the Weasleys, could not look into Molly Weasley's motherly eyes when if he had given himself up in the first place, Lupin or Tonks might never have died.

He turned away and ran up the marble staircase.

Lupin, Tonks ... He yearned not to feel ... He wished he could rip out his heart, his innards, everything that was screaming inside him ... The castle was completely empty; even the ghosts seemed to have joined the mass mourning in the Great Hall. Harry ran without stopping, clutching the crystal flask of Snape ' s last thoughts, and he did not slow down until he reached the stone gargoyle guarding the headmaster ' s office.

" Password ?"

"Dumbledore! " Said Harry without thinking, because it was he whom he yearned to see, and to his surprise, the gargoyle slid aside revealing the spiral staircase behind. But when Harry burst into the circular office he found a change. The portraits that hung all around the walls were empty. Not a single headmaster or headmistress remained to see him; all, it seemed, had flitted away, charging through the paintings that lined the castle so that they could have a clear view of what was going on. Harry glanced hopelessly at Dumbledore ' s deserted frame, which hung directly behind the headmaster's chair, then turned his back on it. The stone Pensieve lay in the cabinet where it had always been. Harry heaved it onto the desk and poured Snape ' s memories into the wide basin with its runic markings around the edge. To escape into someone else ' s head would be a blessed relief ... Nothing that even Snape had left him could be worse than his own thoughts.