Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. 'Nuff said.

A day of mourning. A day of darkness with the bitter aftertaste of war. It was over. It was over. Oh, gods, Hermione.

The smell of blood assaulted his senses. Brightly colored hexes were flying around him, hitting those around him. A flash of green was racing towards him, but before he could realized what had happened, a flash of brown intercepted it before crumbling at his feet. Bile rose in this throat as he looked at his best friend, his sister.

Harry felt himself becoming more conscious. He started to notice his surroundings, dark, damp walls and cold metal encasing his wrists. His thoughts raced, trying to figure out what happed. What had happened to Ron? They had been separated in the fight. Was he dead? Captured? Did he know about his lover's death? His thoughts drifted to the other red-heads, and he had to choke back a sob as he remembered Ginny and the twins' death more than a year ago. The only female Weasley child had gone to visit her brothers in their shop when Death Eaters completely destroyed it, the three Weasleys still inside. It was an even worse blow for the fact that Ginny had been five months pregnant. Draco hadn't been the same since, often drinking his pain away.

The eldest Weasley brother had died a few feet away from Harry early on in the final fight. The image of Ron's stricken face before he chased after the Death Eater to revenge his only remaining sibling's death, still haunted his mind. Charlie had died in a raid two years ago along with Tonks and Moody. Percy had disappeared in his 7th year. Dull green eyes filled with tears as he thought of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley...

Draco burst through the door, face even paler than usual "Death Eaters," he gasped as Harry, Ron, and Ginny looked at him in shock, "Attacking the Burrow. Hurry." And all three were following after him as fast as they could. They apparated to the Burrow just in time to see black cloaks disappearing into the night. A blast of heat hit them as the Burrow lit up the darkness. Smoke twisted upward, caressing a green skull. Ginny, only nineteen, a child, turned to find comfort in the nearest person. It was Draco. She pressed her face into his chest as she sobbed. Surprisingly, he did not push her away but drew her closer, not saying anything. Neither Ron nor Harry noticed, transfixed by the sight, tears streaming down their face.

Why was he, Harry, the person the Dark Lord hated above all, still alive? So Voldemort could gloat? So he could be tortured? Draco would know. He was the best spy they had ever had; taking the position shortly after Snape had been killed. But Draco was dead, having shown his loyalties in the final battle. He and his father had found each other, and Draco had been able to kill him, sadly not before receiving a fatal chest wound. Blaise had gone insane from his best friend's death, and since Lucius was dead, he attacked the Dark Lord. Ten minutes later, he was dead, a satisfied smile adorning his lips at the scar he had left on his enemy's face.

How many others had died? With a jolt, Harry realized he had lost track of when and how half of the people he knew had died. Or even if they had died. He knew the Dean had been dead for a least a year, but how had he died? Where was Susan? What had happened to Oliver? There were too many people, too much war. Well, it was over. Bitter tears coursed down his cheeks.

This wasn't how it was suppose to happen! The Light wasn't suppose to lose! His friends and family weren't supposed to die. When had it gone wrong? When he didn't let Sirius kill Wormtail? When Dumbledore died? When the Ministry fell? The tears fell faster, harder, splashing against the cold stone. He would give anything to see them again. Ginny laughing, Draco's half smile of amusement, flying with Ron, teasing with Hermione, Mrs. Weasley's hugs. He wanted to see everyone happy, without the strains of war lining their faces. Exhastion took him, and he slipped into unconsciousness.

He was in the Great Hall of Hogwarts. Sun filtered down from the enchanted ceiling bathing his face in warmth. He had never seen this place completely empty. The staff table in the front was set with plates and silverware, absent of food and teachers. Harry mentally filled the chairs. Dumbledore's high-backed chair, with McGonagall on his right, Snape to his left. Flitwick, the DADA spot, Sprout, Hagrid...

Harry turned to continue looking around the hall. There was Slytherin table. His lips twitched as he remembered when he had told Draco that the hat had wanted to place him in Slytherin. His former rivals face had been priceless. Then the blond had grinned and told him he should have accepted.

The green and silver banner moved in an invisible wind mirrored by the three other banners. The red and gold banner of Gryffindor made Harry smile wistfully as he remembered all of the good memories that had been made in that house.

He wondered how he could smile. His friends were lost. He, not to mention the world, was in the Dark Lord's hands. Yet a sense of calm was radiating through the hall. Suddenly Harry realized that it was because of the music playing around him. A phoenix's song. Confused, he searched his memory for when the song had begun and came to the realization that it had started so low that he hadn't heard it and slowly grew louder. It reminded him of the time when the Dursleys hadn't been able to dump him on Ms. Figg and took him to a concert. As the singers walked in they sang so lowly that it took a second for the audience to notice they were singing.

Harry was pulled out of his thoughts by a flash of fire. Startled he saw the goblet of fire resting in front of the Headmaster's chair. The phoenix's song intensified as the flames in the goblet turned into an emerald green and grew, twisting up to form the shape of a snake. Before he could do more than blink in surprise, the flames changed to a deep crimson and shifted into a lion, then a pale yellow badger, then a royal blue raven. Harry stood entranced as the raven's wings and tail lengthened and it subtly changed its shape while its color changed into a deep gold. The golden phoenix let out a thrill of music before flying at the raven-haired man.

Everything went black.

Harry felt himself start to drift away from the dream. The faintest bit of consciousness penetrated his dream as his real self started to rouse. A gentle voice bade him farewell as the darkness started to recede.

Sleep, Little One, Hogwarts has granted your wish.