Author's Note: This story was written before I finished the 5th book. I had heard about Dumbledore's and Sirius's deaths, and the Prophesy from the Internet. This is a sad little tale, that seems a bit confusing, but if you were dying, wouldn't you be a bit confused? The song "Breathe No More" inspired me to write this, and it centers moments after Voldmort's death. Please, constructive criticism is appreciated! Flames too…what? They make me laugh; most of them are ridiculously funny! (Editing Note: I guessed dates on the gravestone. If anyone is willing to PM me the proper dates, I would be very thankful.)

People say that when you're about to die, your whole life flashes before your eyes. Whether they know it or not, that's a lie. In that split second where time itself freezes, you don't think of your every day dramas. You don't think about how annoying your neighbor is, or that embarrassing moment where your boss saw you in your pajamas. You think of the secret memories and feelings that had lied collecting dust all those years, those ones that were farthest away from your head but closest to your heart. The pure, innocent memories of childhood, the way your mother gave you hot chocolate after you won your first snowball fights, and that awkward giddy first kiss you had in middle school. The surreal moment where you said "I do". How smiling, you held your spouse's hand as you gazed upon the stars, naming each one and thanking God for putting them there.

I never had those memories. I had better ones. Ones of chocolate frogs and of the twinkle in an elderly man's eye. Ones of battling trolls, catching snitches, and copying my homework off of a girl with fluffy hair and showing the results to my best friend. Ones of knowing that I had a place in the world, protecting those I loved against an evil that I, at the time, didn't comprehend.

Standing in the eerie battlefield, wand in hand, I knew it was my time. I had finished what I was born to do. Voldmort's body lied there, still. I, Harry Potter, stood beside his almost lifeless corpse acknowledging the fact that I was losing blood. Acknowledging that I would soon die. But knowing I would die saving others, protecting them.

I smiled. For the first time in a long time, I didn't have to worry about my very existence threatening the lives of my friends. It was a relief, to know that when I died alone in this forsaken battlefield, it was because of my death that others could live. To know that here, alone, I couldn't hurt anyone.

All of my senses distorted, I dropped my wand to the ground. My body dropped beside it. Lying there, cold, I didn't hear anyone screaming my name. I was far away now, my vision overflowing with darkness. Faintly, I did hear my name being called out. Faintly, I did feel someone shaking me. Quicker, harder, my body was shaken, and my mind retreated, attempting to stay in that place between dream and reality. But I stopped, hearing a familiar voice far away in the distance. Then, and only then, did I open my eyes.

I was still in the battlefield. The foul stench of rotting flesh still stung my nose, but the blood I had once been soaked in had dried. A series of ice intense hot pain riveted across my spine, making my very consciousness almost unbearable. Almost, but not quite. For you see, the first things that greeted my bloodshot eyes were the same people who had greeted me in my memories that were still flashing before my eyes. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Mr. And Mrs. Weasely, Fred and George, and yes, even dear Professor Lupin.

"Harry, you twit! As soon as we get back to the Burrow I plan on teaching you a lesson!" Ron's hands were still clenching my bloodstained cloak. Ron had been the one who had shaken me into reality. Feeling my strength abandon me, and dark spots covering bits of my vision, I still didn't know if I would have the heart to tell him that I wouldn't be going back to the burrow.

"Ron…" I croaked, my voice cracking. Moments later, I leaned to the side, coughing up blood. Looking back, I saw that everyone, even the twins, were in some form crying. Even me.

"Thank you. I….I won't……I won't die alone…now." I gritted my teeth, forcing my tongue to move as I used all of my willpower to stay awake. Ginny began crying louder, and Hermione hid her face into Ron's shoulders. Ron shook me again, shaking his red head as fast as it would go.

"No mate, you're not going to die. You have to kill off Malfoy first, you hear me? You hear me?!" He was right. Draco had still escaped, though I couldn't say the same for his father. Come to think of it, I thought I saw Malfoy Sr.'s dismantled arm beside me a few moments ago. I wouldn't mention that to Ron though, not in front of the girls. Struggling to stay alert despite the pain, I tried to chuckle. It came out as a croak.

"Save the best….for last, eh Ron? Don't….don't kill him….imprison him. Enough……..enough blood……spilt." Blood. It was everywhere. To tell the truth, I wouldn't have been able to tell you whether or not the blood that stained my cloak was my own or not. Thousands had been slaughtered that day, most of the deaths being of those innocent. The war wasn't over yet, of course, because by political standards, it never existed. But at least now things could settle down. Chaos could at last, be defeated.

"Don't kill Malfoy?"

"That's a first."

The twins pitched in, but their hearts weren't in it. Even they were silenced by the sudden realization that their hero was dying. I never enjoyed being the hero. I just knew that I had to be, or else people would get hurt. I was who I was raised to be. The boy who lived.

"The prophecy…..it's true. Voldmort….he's still alive. He shares my……..my blood, and I'm alive. He……he won't be truly gone until…..until….." I stopped short, the look on Ron's face was more then I could bear. In a daze, I looked at the others' faces. They too, were horrified. Poor Ginny's tears were spilling faster, and I saw her choke back a sob. Mrs. Weasely stood beside her husband, her face buried into her his chest. Arthur just stared at me, is eyes hollow with realization. He had heard the prophecy almost more then I had. He figured it out first.

"So it is true. There is no other way." He said quietly, with an eerie silence following his statement. Lupin had been quiet the whole time, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw a tear run down his cheek as he patted me on the shoulder. Looking me in the eye, he said the very thing I needed to hear.

"You're just like your father, Harry, and he was a good man…" I had ears, but I couldn't hear. Their voices grew more distant, and my body numb and cold. Softly, I touched the three-inch hole that a spell had sliced through my shoulder. Nothing. I didn't feel it, I couldn't feel it. Looking at Ginny sobbing, I smiled, attempting to cheer her up.

"It…..doesn't…….hurt. It's……..it's numb now. The scar…….it's all that's left………" I sputtered out, feeling the faint pulse of the scar. It would still hurt as long as Voldmort lay alive beside me. It's miracle would forever be my curse. Unless it ended. I was tired, so tired. I just wanted to go asleep…..no! I couldn't go to sleep, because I wouldn't wake up. I had to say goodbye first, I had to…I had to solve things. Finish things. In movies and books the hero makes some touching final speech to his friends before he goes out fighting. I was the hero, I had to solve things, and I had to make sure they wouldn't hurt themselves over my death. I'm selfish, thinking they would be traumatized over me, but it could be true. I didn't know if I wanted it to be true. If they felt bad about my death, it meant they cared about me, if they didn't it meant they wouldn't be hurt. I could die knowing that things were resolved. I couldn't give up, not now. Not until it was ok. But I was still so tired…so very tired…….

"I don't think he can hear us very well, Ron. He's….he's semi conscious now." Who said that? Oh….Arthur. His voice was less then a whisper in my head. I did catch Ron swearing against Hades though, very lightly. Wait…where was Ron? Oh, right, above me. You're going crazy Potter.

"It can't be true, can it? It just can't be. There has to be a way around it, surely if magic can destroy thousands of lives it can end one more while saving Harry. It's illogical to think otherwise. He still has a pulse…" Blah blah blah blah. The girl with fluffy hair's homework is annoyingly smart once again; making everyone feeling….what was the word? Inferior. She could talk anyone's ear off too….

"Are you sure that's a real spell?" said the girl. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard—I've learned all course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough—I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?"

She said this all very fast.

"Hermione, there's nothing we can do. Even if there was a way, Harry is…well; he's too far-gone to save now. Even Dumbledore used to say that no spell can reawaken the dead." Arthur. Wasn't he supposed to be marveling over the telephone? Wait…no; of course, we were in a gore filled graveyard, why shouldn't he be solemn?

"But he hasn't deceased! He isn't dead; he's alive, see?! He's blinking!" Why was the fluffy haired girl crying? She's supposed to be logical, not hysterical. It doesn't matter, because in the corner of my eye, I see a tiny gold speck glint in the moonlight.

"This," said Wood, "is the Golden Snitch, and it's the most important ball of the lot. It's very hard to catch because it's so fast and difficult to see. It's the Seeker's job to catch it. You've got to weave in and out of the Chasers, Beaters, Bludgers, and Quaffle to get it before the other team's Seeker, because whichever Seeker catches the Snitch wins his team an extra hundred and fifty points…" So many numbers….

"Three thousand four hundred and ninety eight dead are accounted for." Lupin murmured quietly, gazing across the death-ridden graveyard. It was the very same one where Harry had fought Voldmort in his fourth year. Ironic how things turned out. My eyes dazed, I barely noticed him turning back to me.

"Both Voldmort and Harry would make it Three thousand five hundred. Always have to even things out, eh Harry?" I ignored the choking voice calling my name; right now all I could focus on was the fleck of gold in the air. It stood in midair, hovering, and no one but me appeared to notice it. It was closer now; I was about to win the game. As it drew nearer, so did my weariness.

"Tell Dumbledore…."

"We apologized…."

"For that stink bomb we stuck…."

"In the girl's…."

"Bathroom our seventh year."

"But don't mention that…."

"The looks on the Slytherin girls' faces…."

"Were still worth it." The twins said the last sentence in unison, attempting to get one more laugh out of me. I have to admit, even if he was in my dislocated state, even Snape would have laughed at that. I cracked a smile, reaching out for the snitch. It was only about a few yards away from me.

"I……will. First….gotta win the cup for the Cannonballs…..don't stand a chance…….. If I don't catch the snitch." I croaked, still squinting at the snitch hovering about a yard above me. I didn't hear the startled gasp that they all let out. I would have noticed the sad little smile that lit up on Ron's face as he finally stopped shaking me if that dang snitch wasn't so hard to get. Just a little further…..

"Win it for the team, mate. Go get em'." Ron attempted to wipe the tears on his cheeks while he stood up. All of my friends were above me, but beside them I could see the individual feather creases on the snitch's wings as it hovered, just out of my grasp. With my friends with me, watching, I used all the strength that was left and caught the snitch.

As I stated before, everyone expects the heroes in the movies always have a final heart warming speech before they pass on. Now, believe it or not, I think I actually have one. Not a speech, but a few words. My final thoughts, as the crowd went wild and the excitement of winning the game flooded my soul, was the pure joy that my friends were beside me in the end. Now, as the Quidditch stage lights dim, I know that I'm not alone.

Harry Potter's grave to this day remains next to his parents. Inscribed, it reads;

Harry James Potter

1980 A.D. - 1998 A.D.

The Boy who Lived to Save us All

Albus Dumbledore: "After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure."