It was all over. Voldemort, after a brief resurrection, was dead. For good.

He should be happy, shouldn't he?

He, the Boy-Who-Lived-And-Lived-Again, was not happy.

Since that night where he'd not only witnessed the senseless death of Cedric Diggory as they were unwittingly portkeyed to the Riddle cemetery, Harry Potter had witnessed more death than any child should have to bear. There had been a battle... a final battle.

Harry learned later that the members of the Order of the Phoenix only knew where to Apparate to because of the paranoid Potions Master, Severus Snape.

It seemed that Snape, who long had a dislike of the current Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Alastor Moody, had suspicions that the man wasn't who he purported to be. His first hint were ingredients missing from his ingredients cabinet; potions used in the making of Polyjuice Potion.

His other clue was the man's odd behavior. First of all, Moody continued to imbibe from a silver flask. The real Alastor Moody was a tea drinker. Not that the gruff Auror wouldn't love to indulge in Firewhiskey to his heart's content, but he'd been the recipient, in his younger days, of a curse that had thrashed his digestive system. Any sort of alcohol was an instant recipe for ulcers.

The other clue was actually more telling; Moody engaged Snape in conversation at the staff table in the Great Hall. Moody had conceded the fact that Snape was a spy for the Light and implicitly trusted by Dumbledore, but he flat out despised the dark-haired wizard on general principles. Moody would not voluntarily converse with Snape unless a red hot poker were applied to his backside.

Those were the biggest clues, but Snape was a discerning man who knew how to read body language and interpret the subtle layers of personality that comprised the witches and wizards he encountered. It was a skill vital for the preservation of his life. He had many chances to observe the real Alastor Moody and although this one imitated the real Moody quite well, his pantomime faltered minutes before he sipped from his flask.

The fact that had all of Snape's senses alert for trouble was when Harry Potter's name had been spat forth from the Tri-Wizard Cup. Why Dumbledore had allowed himself to be bullied into keeping Potter in the challenge, Snape was unable to discern. Every challenge could mean death for Potter or his friends and Snape was kept busy night and day as he made certain that they survived. His attempts were thwarted, though, with the last challenge. He had wanted to check over the Tri-Wizard Cup, but he'd been unable to. At the very last minute, though, he had managed to cast a Tracking Spell on Potter, thus, the moment the boy was portkeyed away from Hogwarts and the maze, Snape knew of it.

The Order was too late to save Cedric, but they did arrive just as the duel between the returned Voldemort and Harry began.

Harry really couldn't remember much of the duel. He did recall seeing the vile green light of the Killing Curse headed straight for him and instead of dodging it, he threw out his arms as though to embrace it. There were many, Death Eater and Order member alike, who saw the curse strike the boy and instead of consuming him the curse was reflected and sent back at many times its strength to the Dark Lord. In a brilliant explosion that sent Harry and others nearby tumbling backwards, Voldemort was obliterated, permanently.

Harry had wished he'd been knocked out, but he wasn't. He was conscious for the aftermath. Remus Lupin had been horribly injured by a bone distortion curse; he would survive, but he'd limp on his left leg for the rest of his life.

Tonks didn't survive. Crabbe senior sliced her horribly with a Cutting Curse and she bled to death not far from her bone-twisted lover.

The hardest death for Harry to watch was that of Sirius Black. Black had been running towards Harry when a Blasting Curse from Bellatrix caught him in the middle of his back. He screamed as bones fractured. As he fell, the ghastly witch threw a Cruciatus Curse that finished him off. Harry, still bone weary from his expenditure of his magic, dragged himself over to Black's body putting himself directly in Bella's line of fire. Just as she was cackling her delight at finding the Boy-Who-Lived, she screamed as she was enveloped by the red mist of some spell Harry had never heard before. The wielder of the spell was Snape.

No, Harry didn't have to worry about the Dark Lord coming for him anymore, but he was plagued nightly with nightmares and crushing guilt that sent him into a terribly deep depression. It did not help that he had to return home to the Dursleys who had little regard for him and certainly no sympathy for what had happened to him. The fact is, they were his legal guardians and although Dumbledore had promised to rectify his living situation, there were so many other things that required the now retiring Headmaster's attention.

It was a recipe for disaster.