Title- Shadow on the Sun

Summary- The Dark Lord was vanquished months ago, two to be exact, but then why are people still dying? The person behind it might not be the one you suspect. Takes place some time after Harry's Seventh Year at Hogwarts.

Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter or any rights to Harry Potter. I am making no profit off of this, all credit goes to Mrs. J.K. Rowling.

A/N- I was going to take a break from fanfiction and work on my original novel, but then I got an idea, and had to write it down before I forgot it. It has evolved into this, a novel-length fiction. I thank everyone immensely who has reviewed to my previous works, especially "The Will to Survive." I hope I don't disappoint you with this.

-

"I hurt myself today
to see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
the only thing that's real
the needle tears a hole
the old familiar sting
try to kill it all away
but I remember everything
what have I become?
my sweetest friend
everyone I know
goes away in the end
you could have it all
my empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt
I wear my crown of shit
on my liar's chair
full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair
beneath the stain of time
the feeling disappears
you are someone else
I am still right here
what have I become?
my sweetest friend
everyone I know
goes away in the end
you could have it all
my empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt
if I could start again
a million miles away
I would keep myself
I would find a way"
- Nine Inch Nails

-

Liberation

It happened very quickly. One moment, the Dark Lord, Voldemort, was screaming in agony. . . falling to the ground. . . dying, and the next moment a shadow seemed to pass out of his body and disappear into Harry Potter's, sending him reeling backwards. Everyone was too concerned about seeing if Voldemort really was gone to notice the momentary flash of red in Harry's emerald eyes, or the way his lips twisted in a sneer.

The Dark Lord was gone, for good this time. His body lay before them, slowly transforming before their eyes. The thin, pale skin darkened and the creases disappeared. Black hair crept down over his eyes, and the slit-like nose became normal. And there lay Tom Riddle, a young Riddle in his late twenties, before so many Dark Arts had made him unrecognizable.

Harry Potter watched all the Aurors swarm the scene, watched the Order members still battling it out with the Death Eaters, but felt as though he was watching it from a distance. His head was pounding with a headache, and his vision was starting to blur. Someone said something somewhere near him, but the sound didn't make sense in his head. He was dimly aware that he had fallen to his knees. As if in slow motion, his wand slipped from his fingers and he fell to the ground.

-

Light.

Bright light.

Hospital Wing?

No, can't be Hogwarts.

Heaven?

That would be nice. He could see Sirius again.

The smell of. . . chicken?

Interesting smell for heaven. No, can't be heaven.

Harry's eyes finally focused.

The room was entirely white, save the tray of food next to his bed.

An extremely harassed looking witch entered the room through a door on the opposite side of the room from the bed.

"Ah, Mr. Potter, you are awake. Your friends will be most pleased."

"Where am I?" Harry asked attempting to sit up on the bed, and noticing that his voice was very hoarse.

"A private ward on the fourth floor of St. Mungo's hospital," she responded automatically pouring him a glass of water. "My name is Janus Thickey."

"A private ward?" he asked, taking the water from her and gulping it down.

"Oh yes, you see, people have been most eager to see you lately, ever since the fall of the Dark Lord. We have enough get well cards to be going on with."

"How long have I been here?" Harry asked.

"Close to two months."

"Two months?" Harry jumped.

"A very troubling two months it has been also. We were beginning to worry that you wouldn't wake up."

Harry settled down in his sheets and brought his hand to his face. He felt sleepy, even though he had just slept for so long.

"How do you feel, Mr. Potter?"

"Tired," he responded. He watched her carefully as she brought some potions over to him. "I've seen you before."

"Yes, you have. Two years ago, you stumbled upon Gilderoy Lockhart while climbing the stairs."

Harry remembered. They had been there to visit Mr. Weasley. "It feels like so long ago."

She turned to him with a kind smile on her face. "Yes, it does. Now, relax, I need to check your vitals."

Harry turned his head toward the small window in the room. Outside, he could see the Hogwarts castle, it's many towers and turrets rising into the clouds. It looked powerful against the pink sky, the sun setting behind a mountain beyond it. But how could he see Hogwarts from here? St. Mungo's was in London.

He turned back to the Healer who was waving her wand over him. "Are the windows enchanted?"

She looked at him for a moment and then at the window. "Yes. Whoever looks through them sees the place where they were happiest in the past."

Harry looked back at the castle. He saw an owl swooping out of the Owlery. "Is it a memory or is what I'm seeing really happening?"

"It depends on what you're seeing. Open up." She tipped a potion down his throat.

It tasted sweet, like pumpkin juice. Harry felt relaxed after drinking it.

"Well, you seem to be fine. You'll need to stay here for a couple of days for observation, but then you're free to go. Eat, you look famished."

"Madam Thickey?" Harry asked before she had exited the room.

"Yes?"

"Can I see my friends?" he asked hopefully.

She smiled warmly at him. "Yes, of course, dear."

He had hardly waited five minutes before the door swung open forcefully and a crowd of people piled into his room.

Hermione and Ron were in front, rushing over to his bed and greeting him. Ginny, Neville, and Luna were behind them, carrying piles of gifts, candies, presents, and food, and dumping it all on his bed. Fred, George, Bill, Charlie, and Mrs. Weasley followed, with them, Tonks, Mad-Eye, and Mundungus.

They all greeted Harry, who was looking at the door, expecting more people to come in. Where was Lupin? Where was Dumbledore? Where was Mr. Weasley? Where was Percy?

Hermione, following Harry's gaze, said to him, "Harry, no one else is coming. We're it."

Harry kept his eyes on the door. "Where's Lupin, and Mr. Weasley, and Percy?"

"Harry—" Hermione started.

"And Dumbledore? Where's Dumbledore?" Harry said, his voice getting louder with each syllable. He didn't like the look in Hermione's eyes at the moment. Panic washed over him like a tidal wave.

Harry looked from one face to the other, seeing only sadness and how uncomfortable they were at this moment.

"Harry," Mrs. Weasley said, her voice heavy with pain, "Remus and Albus didn't make it out of the battle."

"But I saw them!" Harry said. "I saw them! Right after I killed Voldemort!"

"The battle went on for days after you killed Voldemort," Hermione said, choking back tears. "Professor Lupin killed Bellatrix Lestrange, but was hit with a curse from Mr. Malfoy." Here, her voice broke. "D-Dumbledore carried you away from the b-battle. When he was checking if you were. . . if you were okay, they hit him in the back." She looked away, her eyes watering. Ginny put an arm around her shoulders.

Harry maintained his focus on the door. In an unusually calm voice, he asked, very slowly, "And Mr. Weasley and Percy?"

"Percy is at the office," Mrs. Weasley said promptly. "And Arthur is also."

Harry felt the howl of anguish trying to escape his body. He felt the burning beneath his eyes. He felt the heaviness in his heart, but still, somehow, he felt an overwhelming joy. He felt almost as though he had just been told the greatest news in his life. And then. . . he felt disgusted with himself.

Ron broke the silence that was building up. "You should see the Daily Prophet. They've been writing non-stop about you. Most of the articles say you died in the battle, and others say you lost your mind and fled the country, but the other ones are pretty good."

Harry looked at him, and struggled to find a smile. "I'll look at them then."

"There's a pile of them somewhere in there," Ginny said, peering into Harry's gift pile.

"Yes," Luna said airily, "I also added some of Daddy's best issues of the Quibbler. There's one in there that's entirely about you."

Harry caught Hermione's exasperated look, and smiled slightly as he turned to Luna. "Thank you, Luna."

The pace of the party changed from there on out. Tonks, Moody, and Mundungus relived the best parts of the battle for Harry; Fred and George displayed some of their newer products for everyone to see; Bill and Charlie kept handing Harry gifts; Mrs. Weasley kept feeding him; Ron challenged Harry to a game of chess (which Ron won easily); Hermione and Ginny charmed the room so that shooting stars kept flying over their heads; and Luna told him (for about the thousandth time) all about her adventure in Sweden searching for the Crumple-Horned Snorkack two years ago.

They left him feeling entirely better and genuinely happy, and promised to visit him again the next day.

It was when the door shut that he remembered why his heart felt so heavy. Dumbledore. Lupin. Both lost. Forever. Harry sunk back into his pillows, and let the tears fall. He was grateful that Madam Thickey left him to himself, he would prefer that she didn't see him at his weakest point.

It was well past midnight when sleep rolled over him.

-

The sun was bright overhead. The sky was cloudless. It would have been a nice day if a war hadn't been raging beneath the heavens. Mars was the brightest it had been for several centuries, as noted by the centaurs. They were part of this war too. Death affected all creatures.

Harry found himself standing in the center of it all, curses flying past him, corpses at his feet. Distantly he saw a cloaked figure, the tallest of them all, and the only Dark Wizard baring his face. Harry saw himself struggling to reach Voldemort, and then, barely ten feet away, pull a box from his pocket, and release it's contents, a ball of fiery white light. The ball shot at the Dark Lord, disappearing into his decrepit chest. The Dark Lord fell, and Harry saw himself fall not soon afterwards. A blur of navy blue and white flashed past him, and Dumbledore was on his knees, gathering Harry in his arms. He carried the boy away from the fray, out to the forest, firing curses at Death Eaters with such skill that none could avoid his wrath. In the shelter of the trees, Dumbledore placed the boy down, and Harry watched as his Headmaster muttered a series of words under his breath, and a blue glow seemed to encase the unconscious Harry. As Dumbledore was checking the pulse, a beam of green light fired from above disappeared into his back, and the Great Wizard fell, finally defeated. . . .

-

Harry jerked from his sleep.

Darkness was all around him.

It must still be nighttime.

He was reaching for his glasses when he realized what had woken him. There was a loud screeching sound filling his room, echoing through the halls. He threw the covers off of his bed and retrieved his wand from the night stand. A man came through the door, a Ministry badge showing on his chest.

"Mr. Potter, you need to come with me," he said. Harry walked towards him slowly.

"Why? What's happened?" he asked, pulling on his robe.

"There's been a murder. We need to get you somewhere safe."

That's all Harry needed to hear. He allowed himself to be led from the room where he was then joined by four more Ministry officials. There was a neon green glow coming from a room down the hall. Once out of the building, he was given a Portkey, and swirled away, finding himself in the Ministry of Magic.

If he had been expecting to find a group of friends awaiting him, he was wrong. The hall was empty except for many more Ministry Officials who guided him to the gold elevator which took them many floors underground, past all of the offices, further down than he had ever gone. He wondered briefly why all the wizards had their wands drawn.

Finally, the clanging stopped, and they got off, Harry hardly seeing where he was going because of all the guards surrounding him. He was led down a dark hallway to a room that was furnished in the same fashion as the Gryffindor Common Room, but had a bed near the fire.

"Mr. Potter, the Minister requests that you remain here until you are contacted. If you need anything, feel free to ask," a man said.

Harry, completely confused about everything going on, nodded. "Yes, thank you."

The door closed behind him when he entered the room, and Harry heard a series of clicking sounds letting him know that he was locked in. He wished he would have had the chance to ask the man why he had to be removed from St. Mungo's.

Harry walked slowly to the bed, vaguely realizing that he was still wearing the robe and slippers the hospital provided. He sat down on the bed, the springs creaking from old age.

A murder?

In St. Mungo's?

But who? Why? Why was Harry being guarded so much?

Well that's an easy one, he instantly thought. I'm the Boy Who Lived. Their precious 'savior.'

He fell back on the bed and stared at the ceiling which was enchanted much like the ceiling in the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Harry could pick out all of the star formations he had studied during his 7 years at Hogwarts.

He tried not to let his mind wander, because then it would come to rest on Dumbledore and Lupin and the fact that they're both dead. Unfortunately, the dream he had just experienced was fresh in his mind.

Try as he might to focus on Mars, his thoughts came to land on his dream.

The Killing Curse, the curse that had killed Dumbledore, had been fired from the trees. Harry was almost certain there had been no Death Eaters in those trees, for that area had been safe, belonging to those opposing the reign of darkness. Which meant that the person who had killed Dumbledore was still out there, not in prison with the rest of the Death Eaters. . . .

There was a traitor in their midst.

The door opened forcefully. There, on the threshold stood the Minister of Magic, Arthur Weasley. Harry sat up on the bed and watched the red-headed man's worried eyes come to rest on him.

"Harry," he sighed, "you're all right." He pulled a cloth from his pocket and wiped his forehead, looking entirely relieved.

"Of course I am, Mr. Weasley," Harry replied. "The Ministry people. . . they said there'd been a murder. Who was it? Who was killed?"

Mr. Weasley held Harry's eye-contact as he moved and sat on the end of the bed. Gently, he took Harry's hands in his. "I don't know how to say this. . . ."

"Then just say it," Harry said. "Why were you so worried about me being safe?"

"Harry, it was your nurse who was killed. It was Madam Thickey. We think the killer was trying to get to you."

-

A/N- For anyone who has never read my stories before, they start out really awful and get better. There's no reason the same won't happen with this. Okay, I won't set a deadline for my next chapter because I always end up missing it. It won't be too long, though.

peace

felony melanie