Harry somehow found himself in a forest, none the likes of which he had ever seen before. The trees were tall and thin, and only started to branch out a few feet above Harry's head. They all had lost half their bright leaves, as it seemed that autumn was in full swing. These orange leaves completely covered the forest ground, giving it a mystical, orange hue. Harry looked up, and saw that clouds overtook the sky. They didn't look to be dark with rain, yet they were heavy enough to conceal the sun, and they covered the entirety of the sky, touching every horizon. Every direction, no matter where Harry turned his head, looked exactly the exactly the same.
The forest was deathly quiet. There were no sounds of birds chirping in the trees, nor insects flying through the air or burrowing through the soil. The only thing Harry could hear was and occasional soft gust of wind, gently tumbling a few orange leaves about.
Harry started running. He didn't know where he was running to, but just to find something different would be a start. He ran, forever it seemed, and cried out for his friends, for anyone, to find him. But these efforts, all of them, proved to be in vain. The forest seemed to have no ending nor any distinguishing marks, no matter where Harry ran; in fact, it looked as if he were in the same spot as before. No one answered is calls for help, except his own echo, which only seemed to mock him.
Harry sat down, trying to think. He couldn't remember anything that had happened before this. He had just...ended up here. He searched his pockets; no wand.
As Harry was contemplating his situation, he noticed something. It was many yards away from him, almost disguised by the trees. But that's still odd, Harry thought. Why didn't he see it before?
Harry started walking towards it. From afar, all the strange color blended in to one another. But as Harry came closer, he saw distinct human figures. He came to a clearing in the trees, and saw that they were, indeed, human. It was a small group, maybe of twenty people, all dressed in black. No one spoke. Harry did not see their faces; they were turned away from him. But they were separated two groups, sitting in chairs with a path between them, leading to what they seemed to be looking at.
It was a large, black coffin, raised to waist-level on a table. And, whether by accident or fate, Harry was on the other end of this path.
He began to walk forward, through the people. He did not speak to them, not even look at them. Harry didn't know why he was even walking towards the coffin, he just kept walking. The forest was still deathly quiet, with he only noise being the crunch of leaves as he walked over them. He approached the coffin. Did he dare to look in? Of course he did. He had to. He didn't know why, but the knew he must. He leaned over the the coffin, and saw a familiar face.
It was himself. In the coffin was another Harry James Potter, seventeen, wearing the Gryffindor robes, and had glasses on over his closed eyes. A small breeze brushed aside the dead Harry's bangs to reveal a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt.
Harry backed away, slowly, afraid of what he was seeing. He turned around, and froze.
Coming from behind the people, Harry didn't see any faces, just hair and the occasional black hat. But looking from the front, Harry still didn't see any faces. The bodies were there, hands in their laps or holding a cane. Their heads were there, along with their hair. But there were no faces. No noses, eyes mouth; they were just blank, flesh colored spheres.
"The boy who lived," someone whispered behind him.
Harry turned around in a flash, only to see himself, sitting up in the coffin, with a wand pointed at him.
The Harry in the coffin spoke two words. There was a green flash of light, and Harry knew no more.