Drinny | After the Battle
Voldemort’s lifeless body fell with a thud, the most ridiculously normal sound of the night reserved for the wizard responsible for the mass destruction around him.
While a cheer erupted through the Great Hall, Ginny stared at that body, chest heaving in disbelief. Fred had died tonight. So had Colin. Remus and Tonks’s prone bodies rested side by side just behind her, and Voldemort was just there. Dead. He could no longer pay for what he’d done. There was no justice to be had.
She stared, chest heaving, her disbelief an ache buried in her heart. Voldemort. Dead. The wizard whose soul had once seduced her with friendship and possessed her eleven-year-old body was gone. Just like that. Just like… Fred and Colin and Remus and Tonks. Mortal. Human. Neither a god, nor a lord.
The audience that had witnessed the final duel between Harry and He Who Must Not Be Named swarmed the center of the hall, converging on their savior, but Ginny, confused by mortality, wasn’t glad. She couldn’t celebrate. People she loved were dead and the man responsible for it had just been a man, a man like any other. So much so he had even died like one.
What had she been expecting? A flash of light? For his body to disintegrate into dust and float away on the wind? For a demon to loosen itself from the corpse and begin attacking anew?
She didn’t know, but this wasn’t it. This wasn’t what she wanted.