InsaneJournal

He is dead. The Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, is gone at long last. He has passed on, he is no more, his metabolic processes are now history. Kicked the bucket, bereft of life, run down the curtain and joined the choir invisible, he is, quite simply put, an ex-Dark Lord.
But he did not go quietly, and he did not go alone. When Lord Voldemort shuffled off his mortal coil he took with him some of his fiercest enemies and his most loyal supporters. No one escaped unscathed. Not even those who buried their heads in the sand and acted as if they didn't know You-Know-Who could pretend the deaths of upstanding members of the Wizarding world, or the shocking news that one or more trusted public figures bore a Dark Mark, didn't affect them.
The War reached everyone; the news that it was over somehow reached even more. Drinking establishments ran out of alcohol, noise ordinances all over the UK and beyond were soundly ignored, except for the times they were not, in which cases they were mocked. In short, people the world over allowed themselves just one night of bliss and celebration.
But now the rebuilding begins, along with the uncomfortable realization that defeating the boss doesn't always mean you win the game.