When Harry awoke some time later, it was Mr. Weasley who sat in the corner of his room at the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Harry blinked as he drew on his glasses and took a deep breath. Everything that had happened was crowing into his mind all at once, a distant throbbing that he couldn't ignore.

"Mr. Weasley," he said quietly. The older wizard jumped, and nodded gravely when he realized that Harry was now awake.

"Molly will be wanting to know you're up," he said. "She's been upset lately, and if you hadn't made it, it would have been just one more blow. Are you feeling well enough to come downstairs?"

Harry nodded slowly in response. "I think so." He swung his feet over the side of the bed, got up and padded across the room. He realized with a start that he was wearing an old pair of Ron's pyjamas.

"Sorry about that," Mr. Weasley said, as he followed Harry out of the bedroom and down the hall. "Your stuff was lost with the rest of Hogwarts. Ron obviously didn't mind you using his."

Harry's heart jumped. "Ron? He's alive, then?"

Mr. Weasley nodded wearily. "Hermione made it through as well. There are others, too many to name, who weren't as lucky."

Harry was silent as they descended the stairs and made for the kitchen. Suddenly, as he neared the door, Harry found that he was dreading entering it. Nothing he had faced during the last battle could prepare him for this. But he had to know so many things; the outcome of the battle, who had survived and who hadn't, what was going to happen now, and countless other questions. Taking a deep breath, he silently pushed open the door and was greeted by the sight of a rather disheveled-looking Percy, glasses half-on and half-off with the tell-tale soot marks on his robes that spoke of the floo network. The next thing Harry noticed was that Percy was staring down his nose at a grief-stricken Fred Weasley, who was sitting in a chair with his head in his hands. It dawned on Harry that George was nowhere to be seen. Could it be…?

"I told you this would happen," Percy sniffed, albeit quietly. "I warned you that this whole Order business would do you no good. I - "

"Shut up, Percy," Ron said from the other side of the table. Percy began to stutter indignantly until Fred raised his head from his hands, an extremely ugly expression on his face. What he said he said so quietly that Harry had to strain to hear, but there was no mistaking what the words were from the looking on Percy's face afterward.

"I wish you were dead instead of him."

There was a shocked silence in the kitchen.

"Fred," Mr. Weasley said quietly. "What a terrible thing to say."

Percy's jaw was working. He opened his mouth to say something, but Ron stood up.

"Get out," he said, his voice deadly soft. Percy stared, mouth agape, then turned and stalked out of the kitchen. A moment later, there was the whoosh! of a fireplace in the other room, and then silence. Ron sat down, his face etched with exhaustion and the faintest trace of exhilaration from having told off Percy at last. Fred had once again buried his head in his hands, and Mr. Weasley was leaning against the wall, his eyes closed. Harry knew why Ginny was not present, but had no idea about Charlie and Bill and didn't dare ask. A terrible sadness struck him. This family, all so good and so generous with what little they had, all so good-natured and kind-spirited (with the exception of the stingy Percy) had been ripped apart. There would never be another time when they would all sit around the table, sharing stories and laughter. Harry found himself yearning for the days back at the Burrow, for quidditch scrimmages in the yard, for dinners shared as the sun was setting. He yearned for sound, for noise, even for the empty sound of someone screaming. But all there was was silence.