Please review and tell me what you think. I am trying my best to be a better author but I need your help. Thanks a bunch, and I don't own Harry Potter! 3

~Awakening~

A boy stood in an empty white space. He watched as his only mentor, the man with sparkling eyes and long beard, walked away. His own bright green eyes were trained intently on the old man until the last second, when the faint glimmering of the flowing purple robes began to fade away like mist. Now, the boy was completely alone.

Harry clenched his fists and struggled with the tears welling in his eyes. He was dead. His body lay lifeless on the other side. He knew it was necessary, for the greater good. Dumbledore had manipulated him until the very end, and done it marvelously. Still, the horror of the situation made itself a nice nest in the pit of his stomach. All of the death flashed before his eyes as he stood in the train station of death itself. Tonks and Lupin were dead, their lifeless bodies giving no comfort to their young son, now orphaned. Even the inseparable Weasley twins were only one half of a whole now. And who else perished in the last few moments of his life? So many more were sure to follow...and so many had already walked the path of death before.

The seventeen year old looked around him, his shaggy unkempt hair still managing to get into his eyes. He was so weary of all the pain, of all the darkness. Now there was a chance to go back. To keep moving in the face of hardship and sorrow to make a better world...or to sleep, restfully and peacefully and leave the world and its problems to the next generation. It seemed so tempting, he would be able to see everyone who had walked the valley of death; his parents, his godfather, his friends. On the other hand, he could walk out the large double doors and back to the life he knew. Hagrid, Ron, Hermione...Ginny.

Life wasn't fair. He knew that. He was willing to give his existence if only the ones who died in this war could come back. So many died for him in just the last few hours...he wished with all his heart he could fix it. But there was no way. There was no third choice. Harry Potter closed his eyes in thought, swallowing dryly. There was no way to bring back all those who died, no way to end the pain before it really began. Though the living beckoned to him, his soul was too weary to obey the calls.

His mind whirled, pointless ramblings of a dead man. The injustice began with Tom Riddle, being an orphan with no one to love or teach him what was right from wrong. Then the wound began to fester, grow until he was old enough to reach out and infect others with it. The disease spread, sowing death and heart ache and no one had dared stop it. Why hadn't anyone stopped it?

His eyes snapped open, tracing the patterns of the white empty space, and the train sitting across from him. Nothing ever went as planned. He sighed, having decided. Harry James Potter was going to get on that train, and ride to see his parents and loved ones again. He was going to die, and let it all go. The thought of it, the simple thought made all the stress seep away from his weary body. He lifted his foot, ready to take his first step into the light. Instead of moving forward, he was suddenly moving down.

The white, clean space was gone. He screamed, reaching up to grab the ground of the place he had previously stood, a light circle above his head. He was too late, and soon the hole was out of sight. He was swept down the darkness, wind whirling past him, and his ears were assaulted with sounds. Screams, voices filled with pain and longing, hurt and dread made their way to his ears. The sounds of the dead. Sounds of a time that had passed, all the sounds from the moment Tom Riddle was born, to the time Harry Potter had died. Everything in between came to be all over again.

The death of the Riddle's in their mansion, their screams echoing across the empty space. The sorrowful cries of a helpless Draco Malfoy...the laughter of a red headed joker, before an explosion ripped through the air. Even the soundless happenings, Dumbledore falling through the air, his last breath leaving him, Sirius swaying into the curtain, his mouth open but no sound escaping. Death, screams, the cries of a mother begging for her child's life. Everything that had been written in the stars and began moving forward forever, began going back. The sun began to rise in the west, setting slowly in the east. Stars twisted back and forth, swaying in the fabric of time and space.

Harry managed to bring his hands up, clamping over his ears. But sounds assaulted him, so many sounds. So much hurt, and death. How could one person change anything? How could he hope to accomplish something so big on his own? Suddenly, his eyes began to see light. Below his feet was a steadily growing circle of brightness, coming up to meet him. Harry's instincts snapped into action. He reached for his wand, not knowing what he would do but feeling his body again and knowing that if he fell from his speed, like a fall from a broom, he would break more than just a few bones. His fingers went to his jacket pocket, and suddenly grasped elder wood. The elder wand sung as it appeared at the tip of his fingers.

His mind whirled, getting closer to the light and unknown, and the mysterious contraption of the darkness he was in. Parts of his brain that hadn't worked for a long time began to fumble around. The part of his brain that told him how to escape Aunt Marge's dogs and Uncle Vernon's rage. He knew what had happened, not why, or how, but he knew what. When he reached for his wand, the elder wand appeared.

A cold burst of wind flew over him and he wished for a coat. Something heavy fell onto his arms, thick and warm. He wanted a cloak, and it had appeared.

The next question was: Where was he falling to? Harry saw the light grow larger and he realized that once he was out of the darkness of this magical storm, he wouldn't be able to call these things to him again. He squeezed his eyes shut and quickly concentrated.

A small black stone fell into his pocket, accompanied by a large silk-like cloak. Like the sorcerers stone from the mirror, the two other items gifted by death to the brothers were there, in his own possession once again. The clinking from a bag of gold as it pulled itself into the other pocket could be heard past the whistling wind. His hand went out, wishing for a way to catch himself, wishing for the smooth wood of his firebolt even though his brain told him it was smashed, and thus impossible. Suddenly, it was in his hand, the chestnut colored wood pushing itself into his palm like an old friendly dog.

Before he realized it, his feet were moving through the light. He pushed shut his eyes, blinded as the rest of his body followed. His legs crumpled beneath him painfully, and he screamed out as the stone floor came up to meet him. Harry sunk into the ground, his head bouncing off the cold rock and he gritted his teeth, consciousness swaying in and out. He suddenly...was. And in a very painful way.

His green eyes flickered shut, letting darkness overtake him.