The halls of Hogwarts - one shots

Those empty halls

The laughter had died out long ago. No voices filled the corridors. Minerva McGonagall stood alone, staring into midair.

The corridor in front of her had always been her corridor. The transfiguration corridor. A part of a wall had fallen down in an expulsion and shattered stone lay everywhere. She could see blood on the floor a few meters away and the curtains to a passage in the end of the corridor, laid ripped to peaces on the floor.

It was all ruined now. Of course it would be easy to fix it all with magic, but still, it would never really be the same again.

When Minerva closed her eyes, everything almost felt alright. She could forget everything horrible that had happened and just remember all wonderful memories from this very corridor. She could almost hear the students' laughter and babbling.

She opened her eyes again and it was all gone. All the laughter, all the babbling. Gone. No sound of children running to reach the right classroom in time. No whispering kids in the corner of the corridor spreading rumors about Merlin knows what. Nothing. Just emptiness.

Everyone were in the great hall, crying over all the what's victims. A lot of people had died, a lot of Gryffindors.

Fred Weasley was gone. Minerva remembered him. It would be hard not to, with all the chaos he had caused while ha was a student.

Colin Creevey, the boy with the camera, would never take a photo again.

Lavender Brown, that girl who had been kissing Ron Weasley all the time during their sixth year, would never again whisper and giggle together with Parvati Patill.

So much had changed in such a short amount of time. It all felt so weird. It didn't feel real, but at the same time it didn't feel like a dream either. She knew it was real. And even though so many people had passed away, it was good that it was real and not just a dream. Voldemort was gone now. Harry Potter had defeated him.

Harry Potter, Minerva thought. That poor little boy. He had never quite enjoyed being famous, but still he had never been able to escape the fact that everyone knew his name and thought of him as a hero.

He was special that boy. It had been a miracle when he had survived the first time Voldemort tried to kill him, but then also facing and escaping the dark lord no less than five times. He was a hero, he really was, though Minerva knew how much the boy would dislike to be called the word "hero".

She wondered what they would call him now. He had been the boy who lived, the boy who lied and the chosen one, what would be next. Maybe the boy who lived once more. Or what about the boy who saved our skin. Maybe the man who lived. After all, Harry Potter was no longer a little boy.

She remembered clearly how she had watched him enter the castle together with the rest of the first years, and after that how she had seen him grow up, just like all the other students at Hogwarts.

It was hard to believe that the boy who had thought that finding a dance partner to the Yule ball was something close to impossible, just had killed one of the most powerful wizard who had ever lived. Harry Potter had saved them.

Minerva smiled slightly. The war was over. Even though she felt sad, she also felt glad, because after all, the dark lord was gone forever and no more people would have to die in the war because they had finally won. The war was finally over.

~<€>~<€>~<€>~<€>~

That was sort of sad... and short...
Well well, please tell me what you think.