The sunlight streaming in through the cracked walls and shattered glass of the Great Hall somehow felt different.
Harry blinked as he sat up slowly, looking around the hastily cleared space he and the others had managed to make once the battle had ended.
Hermione and Ron lay close at his side, Hermione's hand caught in Harry's shirt, as though to make sure he was still there-
The remnants of the Weasley family lay close to the trio, Molly - having fallen asleep some time after Harry - now leaning heavily on her husband, her arms wrapped securely around George.
Luna and Neville were also close by, sleeping soundly side by side, Neville's various injuries having been healed somewhat by Madame Pomfrey.
Further away, lay Seamus and Dean, both having fallen unconscious shortly after everything ended.
Cho was wrapped in Cedric's old scarf, leaning against her friends as they all slept on.
Groups of first and second years lay sleeping, some due to their various major injuries - though they had tried to evacuate the younger years from Hogwarts, they soon found many of them had returned - determined to help fight for the school.
Harry could understand- when he was in their year, he would have easily done the same without any hesitation. He could name at least ten others he knew that would have done the same.
Draco had returned after the battle had been finished - his mother at his side - both ready and eager to help with anything they could.
Narcissa was apparently well versed in healing magic, and aided Madame Pomfrey with the injured students and staff - Draco took to helping clear away the rubble an debris, and had been the last student to fall asleep aside from Harry, having found a lonely corner in the hall.
Looking around the hall - he was darkly reminded of when Sirius had broken into Hogwarts all those years ago.
All of the students were placed in the hall, many feeling as though it were one big sleepover - easily drifting off beneath the enchanted ceiling, safe in the knowledge that their Professors were watching over them-
It was different now.
There shouldn't be this much space in the Great Hall - not ever. But Harry found himself looking around at areas that should have been filled with eager first and second years, tired third years, worried fifth and sixth years, and bored seventh years that he would never see again.
Colin, Denis, Lavender, Fred- the list continued to build.
Over there, Snape should be beside McGonagall, annoyed he had been injured- and over there, Remus should be laying with Tonks, talking in soft whispers about their future with Teddy-
Dobby should be eagerly asking to help where he could - bouncing up and down and vowing not to rest even as Harry told him to sleep.
Dumbledore should be overseeing all of this - that knowing smile on his face, that twinkle in his eyes-
The Minister of Magic should be here - aiding in the recovery of Hogwarts, trying to make it into a good thing for the Ministry.
Moody should be going on and on about this and that and what they did wrong and what they did right - why this is why they should always be vigilant.
And going even further back- though it pained him to do so-
Sirius should be here, at Remus' side, making fun of him for being so in love - Tonks getting annoyed with him- Molly telling them all to be quiet as she tended to her sleeping, whole family.
And Cedric- he should be here, with them - that stupid smile on his face as he lay at Cho's side, covered head to toe in a multitude of injuries he had acquired during the battle, laughing about Neville and Seamus' plan to blow up the bridge to the school-
Harry continued to look around - wondering how different things would have been if a few more people would have survived just a little longer.
Would Lavender still be here if Cedric had come out of the maze? Would Colin? And Denis? What about Fred? And all those other missing students?
Would Tonks and Remus still be here if Sirius had never fallen into the vail? Harry assumed so, he was too stubborn to let those two die.
And what if Moody had survived? How many others would be here to tell their tale?
Would those few people have really changed anything?
Or would they have just died anyway?
Would Moody have died in a fight- unable to protect the students behind him?
Would Cedric have sacrificed himself?
Would Sirius have been killed, laughter bubbling from his chest as he commented on Harry's skills? Calling him James?
Harry shook his head.
What was the point on focusing on any of that now?
It's not like any of it mattered.
All those people- they were dead and gone. No amount of wishful thinking would change that.
His gaze crossed over to Madame Pomfrey - the Medi Witch had fallen asleep at some point during the night at the side of an injured student.
Harry wondered how she was dealing with all of this.
All those students- past and present- dying in her care? Dying out in that war? Her unable to do anything?
It must be torture.
And he wondered the same of McGonagall- she who had always treated her students with love and care befitting a parent- how was she dealing with this? Did she blame herself? Fell herself weak for being unable to protect the students she cared so dearly for?
Harry wondered if she felt the same as him- a deep, painful guilt gnawing away at his very soul, despite knowing he had done his best- still wondering if he could have done something else.
He sighed, shakily, looking once more over to the Weasley family.
Molly stared back at him - the pain in her eyes so deep that Harry felt as though he had been stabbed through the chest.
The red head gave him a knowing look, beckoning him over.
"Come here, dear" she muttered, her voice hoarse and cracking slightly.
Harry freed himself from Hermione's white knuckled grip, and quietly made his way over to the woman, finding himself quickly wrapped in a tight, loving hug.
He buried his face into Molly's shoulder as she gently ran a hand through his tangled hair.
He closed his eyes, and allowed himself to drift off - the exhaustion that had made it's home deep within his bones overtaking him once more