The battle at Hogwarts was over. Voldemort was dead. Everyone was happy at last. Except for one person. The one who mattered the most to this series of events. The Chosen One, The Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter. He had finally done it. After months, years really, of finding out all of the details, he had won. He figured out how to stop the dark lord. How he could finally be killed. But he hadn’t the time to share a laugh with his best friends, Ron and Hermione. He didn’t want to sit with Luna Lovegood and talk about wrackspurt. He just couldn’t bring himself to it.

There were still cheers of triumph from downstairs. Harry Potter stood beside the headmaster’s desk, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The door closed as his two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger left Harry alone with his thoughts, hand in hand. Harry turned to face the desk and picked up the wand he has cautiously sat on the desk. He stared attentively at it.
“You did a brave thing tonight, Harry.” His thoughts were interrupted by the voice which had tenderly guided him through the last three years. He owed Professor Dumbledore so much. For it had been he who unravelled the secrets of Harry’s past. He himself had taken Harry through the steps on how Voldemort could finally be defeated. He owed this man his life for what had happed almost two years ago. But now the ex-headmaster of Hogwarts sat gleefully in a self-portrait above his desk congratulating Harry on the final victory over the Dark Lord.
“Voldemort died of his own hands. I just done what I had to, to get him into that position,” Harry dropped the wand to the desk where it bounced around before finally halting.
“I’m not talking about killing Voldemort.” Dumbledore said perching in his chair. “Tonight, you valiantly walked into deaths waiting arms. I do not know many who would calmly have themselves killed.” Dumbledore was smiling at Harry, who was leaning against the desk, his arms folded, looking the opposite direction.
“But at what cost? Look at how many deaths there were tonight, all of which were my fault.” Harry was crying silently to himself. “All of those who won’t ever return home. And not just adults! IT’S ALL MY FAULT!” He was howling now, not caring who saw him. He fell to the ground and sat with his head pressed against the leg of the chair, which sat beside the desk. He though of the innocent people downstairs, being stationed in a pile of victims of the Death Eaters.
“Harry,” Dumbledore’s soothing voice trailed towards Harry. “What you should know, is that those people tonight, died fighting for what you believed in. What they believed in. They did not die in vein.” Harry stood up and, for the first time, faced the portrait.
“But they still all died!” He bellowed.
“The Death Eaters are vicious people Harry. They don’t care who they kill or why they kill them. They want to murder people.” Dumbledore stared at Harry. “But they’re gone now.” Harry wiped a tear from his face.
“I’m sorry, professor.” Harry whispered. “For everything.”
“Harry, you have nothing to apologize for.”
“Professor?” Harry strolled around the room.
“Harry, dear boy?”
“I always knew Snape was on our side,” He grinned and Dumbledore shared a chuckle. “But, he’s dead.” Dumbledore, unknown to Harry, had not hear this news. He looked taken aback and slumped into his chair.
“I-” But he conjured nothing. No words could ever say how Dumbledore was feeling at this very moment. “He -”
“Voldemort…” Harry began but felt it wise not to talk about it at the minute. “Did you mean it, sir?”
“Mean what, my boy?” Dumbledore spoke with interest.
“Was it all a dream?” Harry felt Dumbledore did not know what he meant. Then again why should he.
“I’m sorry, but I have no idea what you are talking about.” Dumbledore smiled. “You had best go now. I would like to think that a certain red haired family will be most eager to see you.” Dumbledore waved his hand to Harry as Harry turned to the door.
“Professor…Thanks.” Harry felt no need to say more. He began to walk to the door.
“Oh and Harry, King’s Cross Station is a marvellous place to be if you ever need a chat.” Dumbledore winked as Harry left the room smiling.

The school still bustling with life as Harry began to walk down the stairs, protected by the gargoyle which now lay on its side, gently saying a word of congrats to Harry as he passed by it.