Just A Dream harry potter, a harry potter fanfic

Diclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Harry Potter. JKRowling owns "Harry Potter."

"Just A Dream"

It was two weeks after the day she turned eighteen
All dressed in white
Going to the church that night
She had his box of letters in the passenger seat
Sixpence in a shoe, something borrowed, something blue
And when the church doors opened up wide
She put her veil down
Trying to hide the tears
Oh she just couldn't believe it
She heard trumpets from the military band
And the flowers fell out of her hand

Hermione's musings were ended by Professor Dumbledore, who stood up at the staff table. The Great Hall, which in any case had been less noisy than it usually was at the Leaving Feast, became very quiet.

"The end," said Dumbledore, looking around at them all, "of another year."

He paused, and his eyes fell upon the Gryffindor table. Theirs had been the most subdued table before he had gotten to his feet, and theirs were still the saddest and palest faces in the Hall.

"There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight," said Dumbledore, "but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here," he gestured toward the Gryffindors, "enjoying our feast with us. I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses, to Harry Potter."

Ginny conjured twelve glasses as Ron summoned a pitcher of butterbeer (it was the strongest stuff they had) and poured it in the glasses so they could cheer to Harry too.

Hermione silently followed their lead and soon the nine of them were raising glasses too, for the dearest husband.

They did it, all of them; the benches scraped as everyone in the Hall stood, and raised their goblets, and echoed, in one loud, low, rumbling voice, "Harry Potter."

Neville Longbottom caught a glimpse of Hermione through the crowd. There were tears pouring silently down her face. He looked down at the table as they all sat down again.

"Harry Potter was a person who exemplified many of the qualities that distinguish Gryffindor house," Dumbledore continued. "He was a good and loyal friend, a young man with nerve, he valued bravery. His death has affected you all, whether you knew him well or not."

Hermione raised his head and stared at Dumbledore.

"Harry Potter was murdered by Lord Voldemort."

A panicked whisper swept the Great Hall. People were staring at Dumbledore in disbelief, in horror. He looked perfectly calm as he watched them mutter themselves into silence.

"The Ministry of Magic," Dumbledore continued, "does not wish me to tell you this. It is possible that some of your parents will be horrified that I have done so - either because they will not believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, or because they think I should not tell you so, young as you are. It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies, and that any attempt to pretend that Harry Potter died as the result of an accident, or some sort of blunder of his own, is an insult to his memory."

Stunned and frightened, every face in the Hall was turned toward Dumbledore now… or almost every face.

Hermione felt a hot, sick swoop of anger in his stomach. He forced himself to look back at Dumbledore.

"There is somebody else who must be mentioned in connection with Harry's death," Dumbledore went on. "I am talking, of course, about Hermione Granger."

A kind of ripple crossed the Great Hall as a few heads turned in Hermione's direction before flicking back to face Dumbledore.

Dumbledore turned gravely to Harry and raised his goblet once more. Nearly everyone in the Great Hall followed suit. They murmured her name, as they had murmured Harry's, and drank to her.

When everyone had once again resumed their seats, Dumbledore continued, "The Triwizard Tournament's aim was to further and promote magical understanding. In the light of what has happened - of Lord Voldemorts return - such ties are more important than ever before."

"Every guest in this Hall," said Dumbledore, and his eyes lingered upon the Durmstrang students, "will be welcomed back here at any time, should they wish to come. I say to you all, once again - in the light of Lord Voldemort's return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. Lord Voldemorts gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open.

"It is my belief - and never have I so hoped that I am mistaken - that we are all facing dark and difficult times. Some of you in this Hall have already suffered directly at the hands of Lord Voldemort. Many of your families have been torn asunder. A week ago, a student was taken from our midst.

"Remember Harry. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Harry Potter."

Baby why'd you leave me
Why'd you have to go?
I was counting on forever, now I'll never know
I can't even breathe
It's like I'm looking from a distance
Standing in the background
Everybody's saying, he's not coming home now
This can't be happening to me
This is just a dream

And Hermione was struggling to her feet in the wreckage, and three redheaded men were grouped on the ground where the wall had blasted apart. Ron grabbed Hermione's hand as they staggered and stumbled over stone and wood.

"No – no – no!" Hermione was shouting. "No! Harry! No!"

The preacher man said let us bow our heads and pray
Lord please lift his soul, and heal this hurt
Then the congregation all stood up and sang the saddest song that she ever heard
Then they handed her a folded up flag
And she held on to all she had left of him
Oh, and what could have been
And then the guns rang one last shot
And it felt like a bullet in her heart

"No!"

"Harry! HARRY!"

Hermione's voice was a hundred times worse than Ron's, McGonagall's Hermione's, and Ginny's voices;

Harry wanted nothing more than to call back at his place in heaven,

and their cries acted like a trigger; the crowd of survivors took up the cause, screaming and yelling abuse at the Death Eathers, until -

"SILENCE!" cried Voldemort, and there was a bang and a flash of bright light, and silence was forced upon them all. "It is over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs!"

There was growling and hissing at these words.

Harry was lowered onto the grass.

"You see?" said Voldemort striding backward and forward right beside the place where he lay. "Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!"

Oh,
Baby why'd you leave me
Why'd you have to go?
I was counting on forever, now I'll never know
Oh, now I'll never know
It's like I'm looking from a distance
Standing in the background
Everybody's saying, he's not coming home now
This can't be happening to me
This is just a dream

Harry P.O.V

And then, without warning, Harry's scar exploded with pain. It was agony such as he had never felt in all his life; his wand slipped from his fingers as he put his hands over his face; his knees buckled; he was on the ground and he could see nothing at all; his head was about to split open.

From far away, above his head, he heard a high, cold voice say, "Kill Harry Potter."

A swishing noise and a second voice, which screeched the words to the night:

"Avada Kedavra!"

There was a flash of green light. Next, Harry was lying spread-eagled on the ground beside him. He was dead.

Oh, this is just a dream
Just a dream
Yeah, Yeah