Authors note:This is my first real fanfic. Flames will be laughed at, Reviews- appreciated
Hagrid fell silent, the thought apparently too horrible to express aloud. Harry walked alongside him, feeling the aches and pains in his face and his legs where the various hexes of the last half hour had hit him, though in an oddly detached way, as though somebody near him was suffering them. What was real and inescapable was the awful pressing feeling in his chest…
He and Hagrid moved, dreamlike, through the murmuring crowd to the very front, where the dumbstruck students and teachers had left a gap.
Harry heard Hagrid's moan of pain and shock, but he did not stop; he walked slowly forward until he reached the place where Dumbledore lay and crouched down beside him. He had known there was no hope from the moment that the full Body-Bind Curse Dumbledore had placed upon him lifted, known that it could have happened only because its caster was dead, but there was still no preparation for seeing him here, spread-eagled, broken: the greatest wizard Harry had ever, or would ever, meet.
He raised his wand, unaware of what he was doing. He couldnt let this happen, not like this. Many others copied him, teachers and students alike. The Dark Mark was like an ugly scar, and he wanted it gone. The Dark Mark vanished, like no one ever casted it. Harry raised his wand higher, his heart aching. And with the greatest effort, he flourished his wand, and where the dark mark stood, was a new symbol, one of hope. A giant phoenix appeared, leaving him with a sense of renowned hope, like a fire burning in his chest.
Harry wanted others to remember the terrible sacrifice Dumbledore gave for the students, and for the greater wizarding world. No one would ever forget Dumbledore.