Silence. Nothing was heard from the students of Hogwarts as the brief announcement was made by Dumbledore. Brief. To the point. He must not have had much to say about the death of the young soul that had had so much in store for it. Perhaps Dumbledore didn't have much to say because he too was lost for words, much like everyone else, or perhaps it was because he hadn't known him well enough to say anything.

Perhaps the silence was because of shock. It's far more likely however that there was a loss for words because everyone felt so ashamed. Ashamed to know that they hadn't thought that anything was wrong. Ashamed to know that they too had cast him aside as insignificant, unworthy and unhelpful.

Then a scream tore through the silence. The scream of loss. The scream of pain. The kind of pain that can't be soothed and quieted by hushed sweet nothings. Torturous. Excruciating. Infinite.

Dry sobs quickly followed. Knees buckled and hit the floor with finality. Broken. The mourning soul had eroded to dust, impossible to mend, in the Great Hall. Funny how mere hours before giggles, laughter, and insulted pouts had been seen wherever glanced. Now there was nothing to show for it, but the pain of a young pain.

A young man with black, curly, rustled hair. Shiny and sleek, as it had recently become, with improved health. Emerald green eyes, streaked with a cat-like yellow, once filled with a haunted, aware aura now lay flat, unpolished. Tears flooded unblinking eyes, framed with long, black eyelashes, and rapidly fell over onto smooth cheeks. Milky, white skin, littered with hidden scars, stretched over a thin figure. Pouty, full lips shook and trembled. Despite his small stature, strong features graced his face. Unforgettable. Sharp.

Then slowly it all stopped. The never ending tears flowing ended. The subtle tremble that racked through an unresponsive body dissolved into an eerie stillness. Everything slowed to a halt until everything went blank. Only the subtle ringing in his hears proved to Harry that he was alive. But perhaps alive wasn't the correct word. Existed. Harry now merely existed. He merely dwelled in the world. He no longer had a purpose, beyond the duties that all living mammals completed. That was far more accurate. For Harry was definitely not alive. He merely existed as he felt the harsh, cold stone dig into his knees, making them throb, he didn't shift though. He liked the throbbing, it reminded him of a friend that would sometimes grasp your hand too tightly when seeking comfort.

Harry gasped abruptly as he remembered to breathe. His chest throbbed as he quickly pulled in spurts of air.

Harry's eyes flittered back and forth across the floor in front of him, deep in thought, trying desperately to make sense of this macabre announcement. "Lies," Harry whispered to himself. "Lies! Such lies you speak with a wicked tongue, old man," Harry growled. "LIAR! You lying, sick, bloody mother fucker!" he screeched at the top of his lungs, quickly standing up and jabbing his wand at the Headmaster.

The students flinched, and began to shift themselves warily in their seats.

Dumbledore slowly creeped towards Harry with his hands raised, appearing calm and unconcerned about the steady wand that was aimed directly at his chest. "Harry, my boy, it's okay. Mr. Malfoy is in a better place now."

Harry's eyes became glassy once again as tears collected on the surface, but his eyes remained clear and aware, if dead. "How dare you?" he whimpered out. "He has a name you know."

"Forgive me, my boy. Draco is in a better place now."

Harry shook and ducked his head, as his face turned red and crunched together, tears sliding down his cheeks and into an open, sunken mouth. His wand lowered, and Dumbledore toke another step closer.

"No," Harry growled out. "Don't you come closer. You could have saved him. You could have saved so many people from the embrace of death, but you ignored it! You chose this. It's all your fault."

"Death comes for us all, doesn't it though, my boy?"

Harry looked to the floor for answers, glancing back and forth rapidly, as if waiting for the answer to appear. "It wasn't his time. It wasn't his time at all." Harry's eyes sped up to stab into icy depths. "And who are you to decide when his time was, old man? Since when did you become so superior that 'The Great Albus Dumbledore' merely has to justify his bleeding, bruised actions, with the insincere mumbles offered from the the uncomfortable, polite roaches at funerals?"

Harry sneered as Dumbledore's expression turned into one of deep pity, and understanding.

"This must be a very difficult time for you, my boy. Mr. Malfoy was a constant in your life, if a negative one. It's alright to be angry that this constancy has been ripped away from you. There's no shame in it. Now let's go up to my office, so that we can talk about this-"

A vicious growl interrupted Dumbledore. "You know nothing Dumbledore. You know nothing about anything."

"Now, now don't be so drama-"

"Silence."

Dumbledore continued to babble on despite Harry's command, and Harry shook his head in rapid negation of the noise, before a roar erupted from his lungs.

"DO NOT SPEAK. Hold your tongue. Now."

Shock was briefly expressed across Dumbledore's face, before his face blanked once more. He clasped his hands together before him, and waited for Harry's quick, sloppy breathing to slow, and for emerald globes to open. When they did, Harry felt his body tremble before he consciously steadied it, straightened his back, turned and marched out of the Great Hall, with hundreds of eyes stabbing into his form.