.:All That's Left:.
.:by:. StupefiedNarutard
NOTES: I'm not quite sure if anyone has ever done this before, but it came to me while I was listening to a song. I wanted to try writing it, or else it would manifest in my mind negatively. Also, GUESS WHAT SIRIUS ISN'T DEAD. I'm taking liberties. Remus is going to be paired with him in this. So sorry if you don't like it. This takes place at the end of movie/book 7.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and characters affiliated.
Summary: When Harry faces Voldemort for the last time, he knows he'll be dying. What he doesn't expect, though, is to come back... and that the only person that can see or hear him is Draco Malfoy. Drarry. Sirimus.
.:P R O L O G U E:.
Funny thing about dying, Harry thought as he stepped into the clearing, where the ever familiar red eyes of his lifetime enemy met his own green eyes, it's not in the least bit scary.
Which was something that anyone would've though hilarious or preposterous, coming from a boy of only 18 years young. Harry had spent basically his entire life fighting for one thing: his life. But, in the end, it turned out, surprise this is a huge joke on the fate's part, he was fighting for his own death. Not that he minded much. There were still people that loved him, that he had to protect, no matter how unfair it was that he had basically been raised like some animal for slaughter. Hermione, Ron, the rest of the dear Weasleys, even the Malfoys, who looked so pathetic and distraught, but still had enough pride to keep their heads up, deserved to live for something. They could live for him, who wouldn't be able to see his next birthday, or have his own family, something that Harry had so desperately clung to throughout his life.
The possibility of a family, something normal. It was something he hadn't properly experienced and so he had been eager, looking forward to being a doting father, a person his own Dad and Mum might've been proud of. He would live with Sirius for a while, though. They would love each other like a family should.
Voldemort was saying something that Harry could barely make out. Everything seemed hushed, in slow motion, like fate really was on his side. No matter what, he'd kill Voldemort, just as surely as he would die himself. The scarred teenager felt somewhat numb, like he wasn't really sure what to feel. Was it sad that he was so accepting of his own death? Was it sad that he was already so tired? He thought of Ron and Hermione, who had so much to live for. They had futures. They would receive fame for being his best friends, no doubt, but they would fade into the background after a while, left to live their own lives. If Harry lived after this, he would most assuredly never be left alone. People would want to thank him, to ridicule him, to give him anything but peace, most likely for the rest of his life.
He thought about Ginny, whom he'd broken things off with. He didn't really love her. Well, he did, but not like she wanted him to. Life with her would be too fake. She couldn't possibly understand what he'd been through. Would there be anyone who could? Would there be a soul that matched his perfectly, had he lived past this night?
No. And that's another reason why this is alright. It's alright. Mother said it would alright.
Harry glanced at all the other people there, the Death Eaters. Narcissa met his eyes for a moment and Harry saw what looked like pity, like an understanding he wouldn't have expected of a Death Eater. He met her stare evenly, heartbeat heavy in his own ears.
Did I do the right thing? His eyes asked her the question and her darks eyes looked away. She grasped Lucius Malfoy's hand in her own and Harry saw him squeeze it back. His heart clenched in longing. All he ever wanted was unconditional love. Ron and Hermione had found it together, along the way, developed it over years of companionship. They would have a trust and love so deep, Harry was sure nothing would tear them apart.
Lily's hand held onto Harry's shoulder and he closed his eyes. They were there, his father, his mother... all the people who had died for him were there and that's all that mattered.
Taking a deep breath, Harry's eyelashes fluttered back open as a flash of green light came hurtling towards him. He whispered his own unforgivable curse before the green engulfed him, and then all was dark.
It was like coming up for air after a particularly long time underwater. Everything was blurred, slanted, backwards, and heavy. Darkness frayed the edges of his vision, spinning webs of confusion through his consciousness. Though he was heavy, having been submerged, he still felt much like a feather. Perhaps a hippogriff feather, because he didn't want to be considered weak, whoever he was. He couldn't even remember.
He blinked.
He blinked again.
Where am I, he thought, not knowing where he stood... or was he floating? Was he... reclining... in mid-air? He couldn't feel any objects under him- in fact, he couldn't feel anything. Just like he was drifting around with no destination. He couldn't quite understand how that came to be since, he felt like, just minutes ago he had some purpose... a big purpose, like no one else's. Strangely enough, it didn't phase him. Perhaps he could forget the feeling of that purpose... but it seemed to claw at his consciousness, pleading to be remembered. It wasn't pleasant. Yet he still felt it, like an emotion hovering in his existence.
What was his existence? Am I real? He continued to ponder to himself and wondered if he was actually a he. Am I just... here? What do I look like? Who am I? He looked at what was supposedly a 'hand', how he recollected that he knew not. It was so pale, like he could see through it into the surrounding darkness. Maybe he was just seeing things, maybe his hand was gone. Yet, the limb was so light that he had to believe it was there. It was the only light he could really make out. It was there... wasn't it?
This place is so void. It reminds me of something, I just can't remember. The person thought, those ideas floating around his head as if he had spoken them and they were now legitimate objects. Silken smooth or roughly phonetic, the words bounced off those illusory walls surrounding him. It made him frustrated, this boy, but he was also calmed, like it didn't matter what he felt. He was just... nothing.
But there was something he couldn't shake, something so cold and so deep he seemed to feel it on the skin that wasn't there. He felt it pass through his colorless limbs, where his heart might've been. Nothing in this reality- or unreality- could make this feeling go away. It was...
Loneliness. It was something he had felt so many times before, when?, that he felt it would never leave him alone. He didn't really want to be here, in this fathomless black, all by himself. But who did he know? Who would willingly come to be with him in this Darkness, with half-masked emotions on the cusp of knowing, but not quite figuring it out?
Suddenly, the blackness turned gray and shapes began forming in thin air, and he hovered over the ground. Do people usually hover? He wanted to laugh at himself, but he wasn't quite sure why. Looking around, he noticed he was at the edge of a very dark looking forest and a very lovely field. There was a castle in the distance which made something in his-chest? Did he have a chest?-hurt and throb with something akin to pain.
He felt like he was missing something very important. Well, for starters, his name was still a mystery to him. Secondly, he wasn't entirely knowledgeable about how he'd actually gotten here, at the edge of this forest, hovering in the air, staring forlornly at a castle. It just seemed right that he was here, no longer shrouded in the absolute madness as he had been before.
He decided that he wanted his feet planted firmly on the ground, so he did as much and then he remembered something beautiful called walking. Moving his legs to and fro, how did I remember that?, he made his way across the field, but he thought he didn't actually want to go to the castle just yet. There was something pulling him, not gravity, towards the other side of the castle. His feet made no noise, though the ground looked rather soggy, as if it had been raining off and on the entire day. He couldn't tell what time it was because it was gray and overcast. He walked for what seemed like only a few minutes until he saw a large mass of more black.
I don't want to go back in the darkness, he thought, stopping where he was. But wait.
It wasn't darkness. These were people and they were dressed in black. But what for? His curiosity took over him and he kept walking until he was at the edge of the mass of people. There were certainly a lot of people here. Some of them looked troubled, some looked downright deflated, and some looked curious, standing on their toes to see what was going on. He made his way through the crowd of people, dodging this way and that, to come to the front.
There was a girl at a podium speaking. She was very beautiful, he thought as he watched her. Even in her sadness, tears pouring down her cheeks, eyes red rimmed and puffy, she looked pretty. She had curled, golden hair with matching golden skin, dark eyebrows, and very deep eyes.
Hermione, he thought, and it was like he was suffocating as a whole lifetime of memories flooded into his consciousness at once.
He was a human, too. He knew his hand was really actually there, that he had been floating not moments ago, and what his purpose had been. He was Harry Potter...
...and this was his funeral.
He felt so many emotions overwhelm him that he clutched at his chest, though he knew now that breathing didn't quite matter. He viewed the people around him. There was Ron, trying to contain himself, his brothers and Arthur silent and crying beside him, Molly Weasley with a supporting arm around Ginny, both of them openly sobbing. There were people taking pictures, people writing, and—
"Rita Skeeter, damn her and her unfeeling callousness. She doesn't care that I'm dead, just that she's one of the first to get the story," Harry fumed, but stopped short when he saw Sirius, his godfather, on his knees, wailing. It was a difficult thing, seeing such a strong man, someone you loved, reduced to a blubbering mass on the ground. Remus was on his knees as well, but he was hugging Sirius close, whispering words Harry couldn't make out, but could guess at what it was about. Harry's face contorted into pain, he didn't want anyone to feel this way about him.
"H-harry had always been b-brave," Hermione's quivering voice made him look back at her, and his chest constricted. He never wanted to see Hermione cry like this. "He was adamant about saving everyone, no matter how many people were against him. It was h-hard for him sometimes, because people weren't always on his side," she looked at people pointedly at this, like she was making a point, "But he always, always tried his hardest. He knew he was going to die that night, but he still went. And he succeeded... For us! For a-all of us!" Her breath hitched at this and she placed her hands over her face, then McGonagall pulled her away from the podium into a warm hug and sent her to stand with Ron, who kissed her forehead and held onto her.
"Now, we'll have a few words from Sirius Black," the murmurs from the crowd made it known to Harry that Sirius had been cleared of his charges, because the crowd wouldn't have just murmured at his appearance otherwise. Remus helped Sirius to stand and the man made his way up the stairs where he stood for a few minutes, just staring at the mahogany of the podium until he swallowed and began to talk.
"Harry was... the best young man I will ever, ever know. He was so quick to give people second chances, always looking for the good in everyone. He was rambunctious, brave, understanding, and so sure he would fail at defeating the Dark Lord. He was scared every step of the way... but never for himself. He didn't want to hurt other people. He didn't want to see friends and family get hurt. He blamed himself for everything, for every death, for every injury given to people by the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters... But he saved so many lives. I wish I could have been there with him... when he died," Sirius paused here, trying to compose himself, "I wish I could have told him just how much he meant to everyone, how he saved my life, gave me back something to live for." Sirius shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes. "Here's to you, Harry, for giving up your entire life for strangers, for friends, for family. I know you're with James and Lily, smiling down upon us."
The crowd seemed to drone with agreement, lament, and grief. There were faces that were crying that Harry didn't even know, had never seen while he was living. There were familiar faces that Harry had assumed didn't care much for him, but they looked just as sad. Hagrid wasn't even crying, just staring at the coffin, expressionless.
The worse part was that Harry couldn't do anything, couldn't say anything. Why wasn't he visible like the ghosts in Hogwarts? He couldn't comfort anyone, no one could see him!
"It's so odd they couldn't find Voldemort or Harry's body. Like they both never existed in the first place," Harry heard the whisper and furrowed his brows. There were two girls whispering to each other rather loudly, one a small blonde and the other a brunette.
What do they mean they didn't find the bodies?
"Yeah, burying an empty coffin just seems so... unofficial. I wish we'd at least gotten to see Harry's body, so he would be known as a hero in proof of pictures," the blonde said, lifting herself on her toes to view the coffin.
"That's true, but Narcissa Malfoy claimed the light was so blinding they couldn't see for hours afterwards!" The brunette was watching the blonde, who turned to her sharply.
"Shh! She's here you know... with the other Malfoys. They were cleared of their charges, lucky bastards. It was persuasion on Ron and Hermione's part. They said Harry wouldn't have wanted them in Azkaban. I don't believe that," the blonde looked angry, and Harry realized she was wearing a Gryffindor scarf.
"Well, Hermione and Ron knew Harry best, I think," the brunette admitted and they continued to chatter while Harry turned away. His eyes searched the crowd for familiar platinum hair. Most of the funeral were wearing hats or had umbrellas open, as it was sprinkling lightly. It didn't take long, though, for the shining hair of the Malfoys' to reach his eyes. Lucius was expressionless, still haggard looking. I don't know how long it's been since I've died. It might just be days. Narcissa looked disquieted, like she was actually affected by his death. Harry tried to look last at Draco, who was looking blankly at the head of the funeral. He had a frown on his face, but there was nothing in his eyes. No sadness, no happiness, just like there was nothing for him to feel.
"You'll probably go home and celebrate," Harry said bitterly. Draco furrowed his brows and looked about, confused. Harry looked at him strangely. He had saved Draco before he went to die. Draco had spared his life twice. What do you think of me, really? Harry thought to himself, cocking his head to the side. He shook his head and turned away, making his way to his coffin. His empty, ugly coffin.
All that was left was lowering the coffin into the ground, next to Dumbledore's grave. Harry thought it was nice they do that for him, bury him next to Dumbledore like that. It showed they thought him just as significant as the famous Headmaster. He watched as they lowered it down, someone singing a melancholy tune, while lamenting sobs stabbed into the air. The rain began pouring in earnest and Harry stood there, watching people leave until all that was left were the Weasleys, Sirius and Remus, and Hermione, huddling in the dark. They each placed red and golden flowers upon his grave, whispered words he could hear at the back of his mind. They seemed to stay there until they started shivering from the rain and Arthur, brave man, suggested they all go to the Burrow for dinner and sleep.
Harry glanced back at his grave, feeling helpless.
Why am I still here?
But there was no one to answer him.
A/N: I kept it shorter than I usually write because it's just the prologue, to give you a stance on what has happened. Please review?