What Difference a Handshake Can Make

Aftermath

I am struggling to title this um its gonna suck either way hm hm hm hm hm nope i cant think of one yeah it sucks but oh well sorry

Harry didn't have much more time to think, throwing the disarming spell in Voldemort's direction. He was already drained of all energy, only just managing to keep fighting. About to pass out, he saw Draco running in from the corner of his eye.

Somehow, when he fell to the floor, he didn't die. Someone else had taken his place. He opened his eyes, to see Dumbledore. Voldemort had always been afraid of the old man, luckily for Harry.

Harry was unconscious for the rest of it, and the others watched in anticipation. Draco was less focused on the Dark Lord being feet away from them, and more concerned about the boy who didn't look as tall as he had a few moments ago.

The fight between the two wizards was growing in intensity by the second. It was a fairly even battle, until Dumbledore summoned a mass of water, capturing Voldemort in it as it swirled around.

Harry still lay on the stone floor, unmoving. He was slowly gaining consciousness, fading in and out. When he could finally stay awake, he didn't have the energy to get up, just watching the duel from the ground.

After what felt like hours, Voldemort broke free from the cage of water, smashing every window around them. He fell to the ground, and while he recovered, Dumbledore rushed over to Harry and kneeled over him. He regretted ignoring the boy, but nothing could be done about that now. The worst had happened.

As Voldemort was about to throw curses at them again, a flurry of voices filled the room. The Minister stood at the front of the flood of people rushing into the room, freezing when he saw the person he believed to be dead. To begin with, he wasn't sure it was real, but when everybody stopped behind him, he knew it was. Voldemort was really back.

He apparated away, leaving the ministry dumbstruck. Dumbledore pulled Harry to his feet, not wanting the ministry to photograph him on the ground. They walked through the crowd of people, the rest following behind. They made sure Draco stayed hidden, knowing that kind of publicity would only get him or his father into trouble.

Harry had forced his emotions away while he had fought Voldemort, but it all came crashing back down on him now. It was all his fault, he was sure of it. Nobody would be able to convince him otherwise, even if they tried.

The closer they got to Hogwarts, the angrier Harry grew. The pain would be felt eventually, but it was just anger in that moment.

When they stepped foot in the castle, Dumbledore ordered the rest to the Slytherin common room, agreeing that they should probably be together for one night. He led Harry to his office, up the winding stairs.

Entering the room, Dumbledore sat at his desk while Harry stood. "So, Harry. I understand tonight's events have been distressing. What exactly possessed you to just go to the ministry? You put yourself and your friends in real danger." He couldn't take it anymore. Who was Dumbledore to lecture him now of all times, after he ignored his existence all year.
"I don't know, sir," he snarled, sarcastically. "Perhaps it was the idea of my godfather, one of the few people connecting me to my parents, being murdered. But that doesn't even matter anymore, because he's dead too. Everybody I come near dies. He died, and it's because of me."

"You know, Harry," Dumbledore continued, his calm manner sending another wave of anger over Harry. "Feeling pain like you are now is a great strength." He could have laughed.
"Strength?" His voice came out shaky, but he didn't care. "You just- You really don't get it?"
"What?" He replied.

"I just.. I don't want to talk about my feelings right now!"
"Hurting is part of being human. This only proves you are human, Harry." That made him snap.