For one heart-stopping instant, there was silence. People froze in terror. Then an overwhelming uproar erupted around Harry—shouts, cheers, and roars that shook the heavens. The fierce light of the rising sun shone through the windows as people screamed and rushed toward him. Ron and Hermione reached him first, their arms locking tightly around him, their incoherent cries nearly deafening him. Then Ginny, Neville, and Luna arrived, along with the Weasley family, Hagrid, Kingsley, McGonagall, Flitwick, and Professor Sprout. Everyone was shouting. Harry could not hear a single word, nor could he tell whose hands were tugging at him, pulling him, desperately trying to embrace some part of him. Hundreds of people surged forward, all wanting to touch The Boy Who Lived, because it was thanks to him that the nightmare had finally ended—
The sun rose slowly over Hogwarts, and the Great Hall overflowed with the light of life. People freely expressed their grief and celebration, sorrow and joy, and Harry was an indispensable part of it all... Everyone wanted Harry with them. He was their leader and symbol, their savior and guide. It seemed no one had considered that he had not slept all night, or that he longed to be alone with a few people. He had to speak with the families of the dead, clasp their hands, witness their tears, accept their gratitude, and listen to news arriving from every direction that morning: people across the country who had been placed under the Cruciatus Curse were gradually returning to normal, Death Eaters were either fleeing or being captured, innocent prisoners in Azkaban were being released, and Kingsley Shacklebolt had been appointed interim Minister for Magic...
They carried Voldemort's body into a room outside the hall, far away from Fred, Tonks, Lupin, Colin Creevey, and the other