When Harry opened his eyes, the first thing he felt was confusion. For months, the first thing he had seen when he opened his eyes was the top bunk sitting above his head, typically with the bump from where Hermione was laying.

This time, however, there was no bunk. There wasn't even a tent.

But there was a four poster bed.

Somehow, he was back at Hogwarts.

For several seconds, Harry racked his brain, attempting to remember how he had gotten back to the castle. Then, it all came back to him.

Gringotts.

Hogsmeade and Dumbledore's brother, Aberforth.

The Room of Requirement.

One by one, everything about The Battle came back to him, flooding his mind with horrific visions of violence and death. But then the final sequence of the previous day came back to him: The Forest and then Riddle's death in the Great Hall.

Tom Riddle was dead.

Riddle was dead? In his mind, Harry couldn't reconcile that particular set of words. How was that even possible?

For years, Tom Riddle had been the spectre that had (quite literally) haunted his dreams. Visions of Voldemort's mind had infected his sleep for years, certainly aging him more than any other seventeen year old he knew.

A smile crept to Harry's face as he thought about The Elder Wand rejecting Voldemort, flying through the air to Harry as the light left Riddle's eyes.

But then Harry remembered the scene in the Great Hall during the Battle. The bodies that had lined the room included some of his closest family members.

A lump formed in his throat as he remembered the explosion that had killed Fred.

The image of Percy, only recently reconnected with his family, holding the body of his dead brother, sobbing, screaming his name as he begged for his brother to get up and walk.

Harry remembered the sight of Colin Creevey's body being carried back to The Great Hall from somewhere in the castle, killed in a battle that he shouldn't have even been fighting in the first place.

But the last image was the one that caused Harry to sit up, the hands of Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin, just inches away from each other as they lie dead in the Great Hall. Teddy Lupin was only months old. Now, he would live the rest of his life without them, never personally knowing the love of his parents.

Still, Harry was determined that Teddy would not end up like Harry. Even if it meant taking in the infant himself, Harry would ensure that Teddy ended up in a good home with people that loved him, something he was certain Andromeda would be more than happy to provide.

The first thing Harry noticed as his feet touched the floor just outside his four poster bed in Gryffindor Tower was just how quiet it was in the castle. Looking outside he noticed that it was dark, which didn't make any sense considering Harry had laid down in his bed just moments after sunrise.

But as Harry looked up at the clock in the corner of the room, he was able to see that it was just after two in the morning. In his mind, Harry did the math and realized that he must have been asleep for roughly twenty hours.

Considering the events and the physical toll the Battle had taken on him, he couldn't say that he was surprised. Harry noticed that his school trunk was at the end of the bed.

"Kreacher must have brought it." Harry whispered to himself.

Grabbing some new clothes, Harry made his way to the showers. While the tent had been equipped with a bathroom, there was something different about knowing that he no longer had to live in a tent that made him feel cleaner than he'd ever been in his entire life. When he was finished, he made his way down to The Common Room. Typically, at this time of night, the Common Room would be empty. But tonight wasn't a typical night. Most of the Weasley family laid on a cot, couch or chair somewhere in the room.

Bill and Fleur lay tightly together on the couch while Percy slept next to them in one of the large chairs by the fireplace. Ginny slept on the floor below them.

Across the room, Charlie rested on a cot while Molly and Arthur slept on chairs just above him. Harry didn't see Ron or Hermione but he assumed that they were upstairs in the girls dormitory. After years of hiding their feelings for each other, Harry was glad that they were able to be honest with each other.

To be honest, Harry wasn't certain that it would work out between the two of them. Still, he was glad they seemed to be giving it a shot.

Of all the red-headed clan, the only family member that Harry couldn't locate was George, which didn't surprise him in the least.

Sneaking passed the Weasleys, Harry made his way out of the portrait hole and into the castle proper. Immediately, Harry noticed something was wrong. The castle had always been drafty.

It was a castle, after all.

But this was different. This wasn't just some moving air. This was the wind, full and flowing through the castle. As Harry approached the main staircase that lead down to the Entrance Hall, the problem became apparent.

Almost the entire front wall of the school was gone.

During the chaos of the night before, Harry hadn't noticed just how damaged the ancient structure was but now that he could move about freely without worrying about being killed, he was astonished that the castle was still standing.

The explosion that had killed Fred Weasley had removed a large portion of that front wall, blowing the front doors entirely off their hinges. From where Harry was standing, seven floors above the ground floor, Harry could see the doors lying several feet in front of where they should have been. Tons of rubble sat in organized piles around where the wall would have been. It was clear that someone had already been organizing some sort of cleanup effort.

As Harry descended the stairs, he was struck by just how much damage had been done to the castle. It was hardly recognizable. Doors blown to pieces, some of them missing entirely. When Harry reached the fourth floor, he noticed that one of the hallways just off the main landing was completely caved in.

Thankfully, no students lived in that area of the castle which meant that most of the fighting should have stayed away from this area. It was likely that it was simply a result of The Death Eater's initial assault on the castle, thousands of spells volleyed towards the castle all at once causing devastation on a scale that Harry was relatively certain the castle had never seen.

Of course, he would have to check with Hermione to determine whether or not his notion was entirely true.

The closer to the bottom of the stairs Harry got, the more obvious signs of battle there were. The most obvious were the bloodstains that still had not been cleared away. Dozens of puddles where people had died. Whether they belonged to The Death Eaters, Dumbledore's Army or The Order of the Phoenix, death had come to everyone at some point in the night.

Even those that remained living would be affected by the amount of death and destruction they witnessed for the rest of their lives.

Of that, Harry was certain.

When Harry reached what remained of the Entrance Hall, Harry realized that the Entrance Hall and Great Hall were now effectively one large room. The wall that had previously separated the two Halls was now in pieces, large boulders of rubble resting where the wall used to be. This meant that when he reached the ground floor, Harry could see from the base of the stairs all the way to the Head Table of the Great Hall.

Or what was left of it.

Harry walked into the Great Hall and noticed that almost nothing remained intact. The house tables were gone, likely used as weapons or shields. The head table was split in half with massive chunks of the table removed. Even the roof, once magically reflecting the sky above, was mostly gone with holes that let just the barest amount of light from stars outside. The charm of the ceiling was gone.

Now, it was just any other ceiling, albeit one that looked like it had been damaged beyond repair.

For some reason, Harry had expected the dead to still be resting in the Great Hall, like they were when Harry had been here last. It took a moment to jog Harry's mind, and to remind himself that he had, in fact, been in this room again during his battle with Riddle.

Obviously, the deceased had been removed from the Great Hall sometime between his last visit with the Weasleys and his duel with Riddle.

Harry was just about to leave when he noticed someone sitting on the far end of the room. It was Dedalus Diggle, one of the first members of the Order of the Phoenix that Harry had ever met. He had once bowed to Harry at a store in London, years before Harry had known about magic or Hogwarts or the real reason his parents had died.

Harry also became aware of the fact that Dedalus was awake, a strange thing considering the time of night. That was when Harry became aware of the door next to Dedalus. He had only been in that room one time after he had been selected as the Fourth Champion in the Triwizard Tournament. If Harry remembered correctly, the room wasn't that large but there had been a roaring fire going that day that had made it almost unbearably hot.

Of course, that may have been because of the stress of the meeting that took place between Barty Crouch Sr, Ludo Bagman and the leaders of the Triwizard schools.

As Harry approached Dedalus, he sat upright in his chair as if Merlin himself approached. Harry turned around to see who was behind him and saw no one. That's when Harry realized that it was Harry himself who had caused that reaction.

"Mr. Potter, sir, I didn't expect you to be awake at this time of night." Dedalus muttered, quite literally averting his eyes from Harry's gaze.

A small part of Harry became aware of the fact that this would be how hundreds of people would treat him for the rest of his life. Harry rolled his eyes and pressed onward.

"Dedalus, what are you doing here?"

"I'm guarding the door on Professor McGonagall's orders, sir."

"What's in there?"

"Him."

For a moment, Harry wasn't certain what he meant. Then, it dawned on him.

It was Riddle. Or rather, his body. Dedalus was guarding Riddle's corpse.

In all the time that Harry had been working to defeat Voldemort, he had never once stopped to consider what would happen if Voldemort could actually be defeated. Would he even die like a regular person would? Would he disintegrate into a thousand different pieces, the wind taking his body apart bit by bit? Would he burst into flames or freeze and break apart?

All told, it was reassuring that, in the end, Tom Marvolo Riddle was just like the rest of them. He may have been a vile, horrible, disgusting excuse for a human being but despite his efforts, he remained one until the end.

The knowledge that Riddle's body lay just a few feet away piqued his curiosity.

"Can I go in?" Harry inquired.

"I'm not certain. Professor McGonagall told me not to let anyone in." Dedalus replied, a nervous look in his eyes as if McGonagall was going to appear out of nowhere.

Although, considering the fact that she could turn into a cat, that wasn't an entirely unwarranted concern.

"Dedalus, I need to see it." Harry said, his voice breaking slightly. While curiosity had been the main reason for Harry's original request, he had also come to the realization that he still didn't truly believe Riddle was dead. Riddle was certainly dead. Harry had watched it happen. But, the closure of seeing his corpse was something that Harry needed.

The relief that Harry had felt only a few minutes earlier was gone. It had been replaced by an agitation, a feeling of anxiety that Harry had only associated with the presence of Lord Voldemort. It was something that he couldn't explain. Very few people had been in the direct path of pure evil as often as Harry had.

"I need to know that he's gone." Harry explained further. "I need to know that this isn't some sort of trick. He's not going to come back as some sort of ghost, only to gain a body again in fifteen years. I need to know."

Dedalus didn't reply immediately. When he did, he didn't speak. He simply nodded and then opened the door behind him, allowing Harry to go past him.

Taking a deep breath, Harry moved passed Dedalus and through the door. Harry's imagination hadn't lead him astray. The room looked exactly as he had remembered.

With one exception.

In the center of the room, a table had been placed. On the table, for all the world to see, was the body of He Who Must Not Be Named, Lord Voldemort, The Dark Lord.

Tom Marvolo Riddle.

It was a testament to just how powerful a man he had been because without the energy and charisma he had exuded for years, Harry became immediately aware of just how frail the body on the table looked.

His arms were effectively skin and bone, nothing more. The robes that he had worn had always hung off his body, pooling at his feet. But now, they hung to the side of the table, flowing all the way down to the floor.

Seeing this, Harry was reminded that Voldemort was over seventy years old when he had died, something that seemed strange considering the ageless, almost zombie-like nature of his body.

Harry gently approached the table, ending up at Riddle's feet, looking out over the corpse of his greatest enemy.

Suddenly, Harry felt a fire build in his chest, a burning hatred that needed to be released.

"I've seen what you are now, Tom. That...thing. That's all that's left of you." Harry whispered, his voice barely carrying beyond his own ears. "You spent fifty years trying to obtain immortality. Now, you'll spend eternity as something less."

Harry could hear the bitterness in his voice. He knew that there were some who would think less of him, to hear him taunting a dead man. But at that moment, he simply did not care. Molly Weasley herself could have walked in the room and Harry would have continued until his catharsis was complete.

Well, as complete as it could be for that night.

"All those years, all that talent wasted destroying the world." Harry scowled. "Was it worth it in the end? Were the deaths of my parents worth it? Were the hundreds of deaths that are on your hands worth it?"

Feeling the fire inside him bubble to the surface, Harry reached forward and slapped one of Riddle's legs, tossing it from the table, letting it hang off the edge.

"Get up, Tom." Harry growled. "Get up, you half-blood, lying sack of human filth. You preached and pontificated on your Pureblood ideals, tearing the world in two in the process and you aren't even a Pureblood!"

Harry's voice had grown, surely carrying far beyond the chamber in which he stood. Whatever Dedalus thought outside, he did not know for the door to the room remained closed.

"In the end, you were defeated by half-bloods, Muggleborns and blood traitors: all the people that you trained the world to hate. There's an irony to that. It wasn't the Purebloods that took you down, those that you professed were the only one to whom our society belonged. No, instead it was those you thought these least of. It was your arrogance that undid you. Your belief that only you held the keys to the future of magic. But at every step, you proved yourself wrong and you couldn't see it. You couldn't see that the stars were aligning to bring you down. You couldn't have fathomed it."

Reaching into his back pocket, Harry withdrew The Elder Wand and considered it in front of him.

"You thought this would defeat me. You got so desperate to kill a seventeen year old boy that you followed myth and legend in search of an object that almost no one knows exists. But you failed to understand just what this wand is. You thought that this wand was special. Certainly, it's capable of magic that other wands can't perform but its nature is the same. It doesn't care that you were Lord Voldemort and it doesn't care that I'm Harry Potter. The only thing it cared about was who had won it. It didn't have to be a murder. That's another failure, Tom, assuming that murder is the only way to gain power."

Finally, the fire that threatened to swallow Harry sparked forward. Harry drew his wand and aimed it at Riddle's remains, silently setting the corpse ablaze.

"You deserve to burn for what you've done. Your sins are too numerous to count. You've separated families, murdered sons and daughters and slaughtered their parents. You did all of this in the name of hatred and destruction, all the while seeking power that you shared with no one. So, you'll burn. You'll burn until there's nothing left of you. I'll spend the rest of my life undoing your legacy until there's nothing left of you but memory. Over time, that will fade too and the legacy of Tom Riddle will simply be to be forgotten."

With a flick, Harry cast The Elder Wand into the flames. It took only seconds before the wood caught fire, the wand slowly beginning to decompose into ash.

"You can have this. You belong together. All the two of you do is cause death and destruction. Now, you'll burn together."

For the next several minutes, Harry simply watched as Riddle's body began to fade away. It would take hours for the body to truly collapse and Harry wouldn't wait that long. But he did wait long enough for the wand to turn white and break apart. At almost the same time, Voldemort's face became an unrecognizable mass of scarred flesh.

Feeling simultaneously worse and better, Harry exited the chamber, leaving the door ajar. When he exited, smoke billowed out from behind him.

"What did you do?" Dedalus asked as he peaked in. It was impossible not to see the roaring fire where Riddle's body had been moments earlier.

Harry sighed deeply, knowing that this wouldn't be the only time he would have to explain himself.

"We would have argued for months over what to do with his body." Harry explained. "Some would have begged for us to burn him publicly for all to see. Others would have asked to bury him somewhere away from the rest of the world. There would have been more that would have suggested some sort of ironic burial location, like the graveyard with his Muggle father."

"That would have been funny." Dedalus admitted.

"Yes, it would have." Harry admitted. "But it would have kept us from moving on. We would have spent months deliberating and doing nothing about it. We are going to have enough other things to worry about over the next few months."

Harry took a hand and placed in on Dedalus' shoulder.

"He's gone. He's dead and gone and now, all we have to do is move on."

Dedalus nodded before turning back to the door. "I guess I don't have to stand guard anymore, do I?"

"Get some sleep." Harry sad with sad smile on his face. "I'm certain you could use it."

"Couldn't we all?" Dedalus said before wandering back towards the stairs of the castle. Instead of following Dedalus, Harry made his way through what used to be one of the exterior walls of the castle, walking out under the stars of the night.

The lack of a moon meant that it would have normally been a dark night. However, during The Battle, The Forbidden Forest had apparently caught fire. While there was some evidence at attempts had been made to slow down the blaze, the fire still roared, swallowing everything in its path.

Looking out over the grounds, Harry took in the devastation once more. Hagrid's hut was mostly gone, trampled by the giants that Voldemort had brought with him. The Quidditch Pitch was effectively gone, destroyed in the onslaught of spells fired by the Death Eaters. The courtyard under the clock tower was rubble as was the clock tower, the face of the clock lying in the middle of the broken courtyard itself.

Harry's home, the one place that he felt truly comfortable, had been destroyed. They would rebuild it, of that he was certain. But it would never feel the same. For years, Harry had been told that Hogwarts was the safest place imaginable. Even though a number of events had occurred during his time at Hogwarts that had made him question that stance, the castle had still felt like a haven, truly untouchable by the rest of the world.

Now, it stood in ruin, more rubble than castle at the moment.

Harry made his way to the lake, to the spot that he and Ginny had fled to during his sixth year, and sat, looking out over the water. Despite the wind flowing through the castle, the water on the lake was black and still, the only ripples created by the movements of the giant squid, who appeared to be the only thing at the school that was untouched by the battle.

How long Harry sat there before he eventually fell asleep again, he couldn't be certain. However, he was awoken by two things hours later.

The first was the sun, glaring down at him, forcing him to squint as he sat up.

The second was the sound of his name, shouted with apparent concern

"Harry!"

As he adjusted his glasses, he was able to see Hermione running down the hills of the grounds towards him with Ron and Ginny following behind. All of them had concerned looks on their faces.

"Hermione? What's the matter?"

"What's the matter?" Hermione shrieked as she approached. "We all wake up to find you missing, that's what's the matter!"

"You gave us a right good scare, mate." Ron added.

"Diggle finally mentioned that he saw you earlier this morning." Ginny finished.

"It was almost too early to call it morning." Harry said. "But yes, I was up and about earlier. I figured after almost a whole day of sleeping, it was probably time to wake up."

"You were so still in your sleep." Ginny whispered. "You looked like you were dead."

Suddenly, the image of a green flash popped into his mind following by an image of King's Cross Station. No one else yet knew what Harry had survived in the forest.

Apparently, the look on his face was enough to warrant concern, judging by the looks on the faces of his friends.

"Everything alright?" Ron asked.

"Fine." Harry answered. "Well, not fine but there's nothing wrong that we can actually fix right now."

Harry looked up at the wreckage of the castle once more, shocked to see that it somehow looked worse in the daylight. Large sections of the castle had simply been blown away and there were several spots where Harry could see straight through to the other side of the castle.

How the castle remained standing, Harry couldn't be certain.

"I see that repairs on the castle have already started." Harry mused.

"Repairs probably aren't the right word." Ginny muttered. "We spent most of yesterday simply clearing out the rubble and arranging for the transport of the deceased."

"They're planning a large memorial service for tomorrow." Hermione added. "Kingsley and McGonagall have asked us to attend."

"We told them that you would be there." Ron said sheepishly.

"Of course, I'll be there." Harry said, although he knew that it would likely be one of the hardest days of his life. But he also knew that his presence was required. For the families of those that died, seeing that Harry had survived to fulfill the Prophecy and end Tom Riddle's life might be some comfort, knowing that their family didn't die in vain.

The quartet walked back up towards the castle. As Harry got closer, however, he felt a sudden tug somewhere deep inside him. For hours after Harry had defeated Voldemort, he had felt a requirement to speak to every person inside the castle. It was only when Luna finally created a diversion for him that he was able to get away.

Harry realized that he wasn't ready to face those same people again. At the current moment, he needed some time to himself. He needed time to escape and to deal with his own personal traumas. While the desecration of Riddle's corpse had helped, he needed at least a few hours to get his life back in order before he tried to return to the public eye.

As he came to this realization, Harry stopped in his tracks, causing the others to stop in concern.

"I can't." Harry admitted. "I'm not ready to see them yet."

"You saw them all yesterday." Ron replied. "What's the difference?"

"I was running on adrenaline then. I just…."

"Need some more time alone?" Ginny asked. He had expected to hear a tone of accusation in her voice. The war was over. If there was ever a time for the two of them to get together, it was now. In the past, Ginny may have been more forceful about spending time with him.

But that tone of accusation never came. Instead, she simply smiled at him, gave him a kiss on the cheek and a pat on his hand.

"We've all been through a lot, Harry. But none of us more than you." Ginny replied. "Take all the time you need."

"Thanks." Harry said with relief. "I'm going to go see how Grimmauld Place is holding up."

"Are you certain you should go there alone?" Hermione asked. "Couldn't Death Eaters be hiding there?"

"I'm going to assume that any Death Eaters that managed to escape are looking to leave the country for the time being. While they can all get into Grimmauld Place, so can we."

"I suppose." Hermione replied. "If you run into any trouble, just get out of there."

"Yes, ma'am." Harry said sarcastically. Without even thinking about it, Harry turned on the spot.

Nothing happened.

"Did you seriously just try to Apparate out of Hogwarts?" Hermione asked.

"I-uh…..maybe?"

"How many times do I have to tell you-"

"At least one more, it seems." Harry said with a chuckle before withdrawing his phoenix wand and giving it a wave. Within moments, a Shooting Star, one of the school's brooms, flew into view. To be honest, Harry was shocked that the old broom had somehow survived the battle.

Of course, if anything was to survive the Battle, this broom, which had clearly seen it all, was going to survive.

With a quick nod to his friends, Harry mounted the broom and rode to the edge of the grounds. Once he was there, he turned once more and Apparated, broom and all, onto the front step of 12 Grimmauld Place.

Harry hadn't been exactly sure what he would see when he arrived at 12 Grimmauld Place, but it was definitely worse than expected. The house had most definitely been given the "Death Eater touch," with almost everything out of place.

Tables thrown aside, chairs torn apart; there was even a wall that had a giant hole in it. Whatever the Death Eaters thought they were going to find in the house, they certainly weren't gentle about searching for it. To be honest, Harry was a little surprised that the Death Eaters would deface the property like this. Grimmauld Place was the ancestral home of the Black Family, one of the oldest and most storied Pureblood families in all of England.

Apparently, the fact that the house was being used by Harry overrode that particular sentiment.

As Harry climbed the stairs, he checked every room, noticing that each room had been tossed in the same manner as those before. The room where Harry and Ron had first bunked was barely even a room with half the wall missing and the bunk bed thrown out into the yard behind.

All in all, as Harry reached Sirius' room at the top of the stairs, he knew that this house would require hours of work if it even wanted to return to a truly livable state. For some reason though, the idea of such a project thrilled Harry. It would be a moderately taxing exercise for which there was almost no danger. Sure, he would have to get someone to recheck the wards to ensure that they could be replaced so that Yaxley wasn't able to walk in his front door but once that was done, it was possible that maybe it could be a home for Harry someday.

At the very least, it would be his home for the meantime. He knew that he was going to be required to spend days at a time at The Burrow. After abandoning the Weasleys for almost a year, Harry doubted that Molly would let Ron out of his sight for longer than a day or two.

Harry understood Molly's instinct to hold her family close. Harry loves his friends dearly. They truly were his family and while Fred's death still burned to the core of his soul, it was nothing compared to what Molly must be feeling. No parent should outlive their child but the incredibly violent way in which Fred died could only make it worse. Harry knew that the image of Fred's last laugh would be burned into his mind forever, a lasting memory of the Battle.

When Harry entered Sirius' room, there was a moment where he had expected to see Sirius sitting on the edge of his bed, waiting for Harry. But as could be expected, his godfather didn't sit there, his body having faded into the nothingness of the Veil. But what did come back to Harry as he took a seat on the closest edge of the bed were memories.

A normal boy, when thinking about his loved ones, would have a rush of memories wash over him like a tidal wave.

But not Harry.

His memories of his loved ones came in flashes. A brief glimpse of his mother here, a snapshot of his father there. Only two years with Sirius and only a handful with Remus or Tonks. He mourned the most for the one he had known the longest, the one who he had lived with like the brother that he almost could have had.

Tears streamed down Harry's face as his memory skipped through time, showing him the faces of the ones who had died defending him. Harry had never wanted anyone to feel sorry for him, despite that being the overwhelming feeling that most people seemed to have towards him.

It's why he cried in solitude, away from the world where no one could see. If he had broken down in front of Hermione or even Ron, they would have taken him in their arms, held him close and told him that everything was going to be alright.

Harry knew the truth. Time would move on. His wounds would heal. But the death of his family and those that he loved would never be alright. It would hurt less and one day, Harry would only be able to remember the good things.

But now wasn't that time.

Now, it wasn't alright.