I don't own Harry Potter.
A/N New story! It changes POV several time, but it should all work out fine. Enjoy!
Chapter 1
Coming to an End
It had been five years to the day since Harry Potter had been introduced to a hidden world of wizardry. Since that day he had lived a life of never ceasing adventure, but all good things must come to an end.
Harry stood tall upon the smoldering slab where number four used to sit. Twenty black-robed figures closed ranks around him as he stared blank faced at the bane of his existence. Voldemort raised his wand with a sneer and hissed a simple 'finally' before performing the killing curse and watching his prey fall in a lifeless heap at his feet.
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Severus Snape ran up the moving staircase and burst into the headmaster's office. Running and bursting were not normal for the potions master, but these were special circumstances. The Dark Lord had just given him information that the headmaster would need immediately.
"Albus," he said quietly, trying to call the wizard's attention away from the open window.
Albus Dumbledore didn't turn to greet his guest. He didn't flash his jovial smile or offer the lemon drop he knew would be refused. The only indication Snape was given that his entrance had even been heard, was the quiet shaking answer that the older man gave.
"I know," he stated simply.
"I'm sorry, Albus." Snape had never like Harry Potter, but he was very aware of what the boy had meant to his mentor, and to the world.
Silence passed between them for a long moment. Dumbledore turned to walk to his desk, and Snape witnessed a sight he never thought he would see. Snape didn't allow himself many illusions. He wasn't naive by any means, but he never thought he would ever see this man so broken.
"Would you please do me a favor, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, his red- rimmed eyes pulling at the potions master's very soul.
"Of course, Albus," he said immediately.
"Please take this letter to the address on the front and instruct Miss Granger to take the port-key she will find inside to The Burrow in one hour. She will be spending the rest of the summer there."
Snape nodded and stood, hesitating only a moment before turning and walking out the door. He disliked the lack of words he had to comfort his friend.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The living room of The Burrow was full to bursting. Everyone including Fred was laughing as Bill held him flat against the ceiling. Fred, surprisingly, had done nothing to provoke the attack. George on the other hand had thought things were getting a bit dull, and Bill had ended up with a rather walrus-like set of whiskers. It had taken Bill nearly five minutes to realize what everyone was snickering about, which was about how long Fred had been on the ceiling now.
George listened to his oldest brother lecturing his twin. He knew Fred didn't mind taking the heat for it. As a matter of fact he was fairly sure that this would make them even, though he wasn't certain, as they didn't keep an exact count.
Everybody had been called home about an hour ago. The only person yet to make it was Mr. Weasley. Hermione Granger had even shown up a few minutes ago.
Hermione had received the shock of her life. She had been sitting in her living room folding her laundry and catching up with an old friend over the telephone when there was a knock at the door. She excused herself from the conversation and opened the door to reveal her potions professor. After receiving proof that he was who he claimed to be, she read the letter, wrote a note to her parents, gathered her things, and caught the port-key to The Burrow.
Arthur Weasley appeared in his own kitchen and steeled himself for the coming conversation. None of them were going to take this well. He wasn't even taking the news well, but he needed to be strong for his family.
He entered the living room and smiled bleakly. There was never a lack of entertainment in this house, but Mr. Weasley dreaded the sight of this room in a half-hour.
He ordered Bill to let whichever twin had gotten the better of him down from the ceiling, and removed his son's whiskers. Just as Mrs. Weasley came down stairs from arranging a place for Hermione in Ginny's room, Albus Dumbledore appeared in the room with a soft 'pop'.
Dumbledore stood in front of the hearth. He looked out across the sea of red hair, save Hermione's sandy brown sheet of curls. He surveyed the bright happy faces, save for Mr. Weasley's solemn expression, and he began to speak.
"I can't imagine any way for news such as this to be sugar coated, but even if I could I would not insult you nor the subject of my tale by doing so. So please forgive an old man should he be too blunt." The room was so silent it was hard to tell if anyone of them even drew breath. "Privet Drive was attacked by Voldemort himself in the middle of the night." No one even flinched at the name, as they were busy contemplating the effects such an event would reap. "He left no survivors. Harry Potter is dead."
Time seemed to have halted, and the soft crackling of the fire seemed suddenly deafening, as it was the only source of sound in the room.
Ron slowly rose to his feet, startling the room out of their daze. Each step he took seemed to take immense effort. He opened the front door and exited, leaving the door open behind him. Mrs. Weasley turned and began to sob into her husband's shoulder. Hermione stood and followed her friend out the door. Ginny hadn't moved at all since Dumbledore had stopped speaking. She sat in the same position, her mouth slightly open. The only changes that made themselves evident were the tears that had fallen down her face, and were now dripping from her chin.
"We can fix this," Fred said after a few minutes, jumping out of his chair, and calling the attention of everyone in the room. "It'll be okay. We can fix this."
"Stop," George said quietly, walking slowly in the direction of his twin.
"But all we would have to," Fred started.
"We can't," George choked out as the entire room stared on.
"We have to bring him back, George. He can't just." tears built up in his eyes, threatening to spill down his face at any moment.
"Fred," George said, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder as the shaking teen sank down the wall.
"He can't." he tried again before shaking sobs removed all chances of him speaking.
"I should be going," Albus Dumbledore announced, turning toward Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.
"Thank you, Albus," Mr. Weasley said, not moving from his position next to his wife. "Let us know if there is anything we can do." Dumbledore nodded and vanished.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Arthur Weasley's half-hour was up. He stared blankly at his empty living room. Mrs. Weasley had cried herself to sleep, and was now upstairs in bed. Bill and Charlie had both left to ask for time off from work so that they could attend the funeral in a few days. Percy had only come during his lunch break, and decided that he was needed at work, though Mr. Weasley knew his son well enough that he was sure the boy was only trying to keep his mind busy with other things. The twin's were in their old room, though it was rather unnerving as the customary explosions were missing. Ginny too had retreated to her room to cry in private.
Mr. Weasley sat at the kitchen table, sipping on the cup of strong tea he had poured for himself. His attention turned to the window above the kitchen sink.
The current occupants of The Burrow were mourning, as was he. He did not worry about them, though he was sure that they would not soon forget this loss. He worried instead for the two teenagers he could just make out huddled together beneath a tree at the edge of their property. He had loved Harry like a son, but his loss seemed so small when compared to what those two had just had ripped from them.
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Molly Weasley entered the bedroom at the top of the stairs and shook its occupants awake. They both woke silently and nodded as they were instructed to get themselves dressed. Mrs. Weasley left, and they disentangled themselves from the sheets and one another's arms. Hermione headed to Ginny's room to get changed, and Ron took out his dress robes for the memorial service.
Hermione put on her dark blue dress robes and gave Ginny a soft nudge in the side, pulling the girl out of her peaceful slumber. She was sleeping soundly again before Hermione made it out of the room. Ron met her in the hallway, and they continued silently toward the kitchen. They watched through unseeing eyes as the rest of the family slowly made their way downstairs, and ate breakfast.
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The funeral was a circus. It would have infuriated Ron if he had noticed it, but Ron didn't seem to notice anything. He simply stared through unfocused eyes at the box that would forever hold the body of his best friend. Thoughts passed through his head at random disturbing the eerie silence that had overtaken his mind after Dumbledore gave them the news.
. It's too small. Harry doesn't like small spaces. They remind him of his cupboard.
People gave kind words about the departed. They sang songs about how much better off he was, and how he would be missed, but all went unnoticed by Ron.
The casket was opened, and everyone was allowed to pay their last respects.
. He doesn't have his glasses on. Where are they? He needs his glasses.
The line of people seemed as though it would never end.
. People are staring at him. That always made him nervous. Made. Made. Past tense.
Ron broke. When Dumbledore told him what had happened he didn't cry. When Hermione had broken into tears that evening beneath the tree he didn't cry. While they were planning the funeral he didn't cry. When they opened the casket to reveal his fallen friend he didn't cry. No one was sure what had set Ron off, but he spent the remainder of the service with his head in his hands, his chest heaving with silent sobs.
The funeral ended, and the Weasleys went home. Ron and Hermione climbed the stairs and crawled into Ron's bed. They wrapped their arms around each other, and fell immediately to sleep.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Harry rolled over and attempted to burrow farther into the warm covers surrounding him. He was nearly back to sleep when he got the peculiar sensation that someone was watching him. He opened his bleary eyes to reveal a world of fuzzy white shapes. Hospital wing again. He tried to recall what scrape had landed him there this time, as he groped for his glasses.
They were placed in his hand and he quickly put them on. The smiling face of a middle aged blonde woman came into focus, as did that of a rather stocky older man.
"Hi," the woman said brightly, "You're dead."
A/N There you have it. Not a bad length either considering my average was slowly getting smaller. Tell me what you think!
A/N New story! It changes POV several time, but it should all work out fine. Enjoy!
Chapter 1
Coming to an End
It had been five years to the day since Harry Potter had been introduced to a hidden world of wizardry. Since that day he had lived a life of never ceasing adventure, but all good things must come to an end.
Harry stood tall upon the smoldering slab where number four used to sit. Twenty black-robed figures closed ranks around him as he stared blank faced at the bane of his existence. Voldemort raised his wand with a sneer and hissed a simple 'finally' before performing the killing curse and watching his prey fall in a lifeless heap at his feet.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Severus Snape ran up the moving staircase and burst into the headmaster's office. Running and bursting were not normal for the potions master, but these were special circumstances. The Dark Lord had just given him information that the headmaster would need immediately.
"Albus," he said quietly, trying to call the wizard's attention away from the open window.
Albus Dumbledore didn't turn to greet his guest. He didn't flash his jovial smile or offer the lemon drop he knew would be refused. The only indication Snape was given that his entrance had even been heard, was the quiet shaking answer that the older man gave.
"I know," he stated simply.
"I'm sorry, Albus." Snape had never like Harry Potter, but he was very aware of what the boy had meant to his mentor, and to the world.
Silence passed between them for a long moment. Dumbledore turned to walk to his desk, and Snape witnessed a sight he never thought he would see. Snape didn't allow himself many illusions. He wasn't naive by any means, but he never thought he would ever see this man so broken.
"Would you please do me a favor, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, his red- rimmed eyes pulling at the potions master's very soul.
"Of course, Albus," he said immediately.
"Please take this letter to the address on the front and instruct Miss Granger to take the port-key she will find inside to The Burrow in one hour. She will be spending the rest of the summer there."
Snape nodded and stood, hesitating only a moment before turning and walking out the door. He disliked the lack of words he had to comfort his friend.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The living room of The Burrow was full to bursting. Everyone including Fred was laughing as Bill held him flat against the ceiling. Fred, surprisingly, had done nothing to provoke the attack. George on the other hand had thought things were getting a bit dull, and Bill had ended up with a rather walrus-like set of whiskers. It had taken Bill nearly five minutes to realize what everyone was snickering about, which was about how long Fred had been on the ceiling now.
George listened to his oldest brother lecturing his twin. He knew Fred didn't mind taking the heat for it. As a matter of fact he was fairly sure that this would make them even, though he wasn't certain, as they didn't keep an exact count.
Everybody had been called home about an hour ago. The only person yet to make it was Mr. Weasley. Hermione Granger had even shown up a few minutes ago.
Hermione had received the shock of her life. She had been sitting in her living room folding her laundry and catching up with an old friend over the telephone when there was a knock at the door. She excused herself from the conversation and opened the door to reveal her potions professor. After receiving proof that he was who he claimed to be, she read the letter, wrote a note to her parents, gathered her things, and caught the port-key to The Burrow.
Arthur Weasley appeared in his own kitchen and steeled himself for the coming conversation. None of them were going to take this well. He wasn't even taking the news well, but he needed to be strong for his family.
He entered the living room and smiled bleakly. There was never a lack of entertainment in this house, but Mr. Weasley dreaded the sight of this room in a half-hour.
He ordered Bill to let whichever twin had gotten the better of him down from the ceiling, and removed his son's whiskers. Just as Mrs. Weasley came down stairs from arranging a place for Hermione in Ginny's room, Albus Dumbledore appeared in the room with a soft 'pop'.
Dumbledore stood in front of the hearth. He looked out across the sea of red hair, save Hermione's sandy brown sheet of curls. He surveyed the bright happy faces, save for Mr. Weasley's solemn expression, and he began to speak.
"I can't imagine any way for news such as this to be sugar coated, but even if I could I would not insult you nor the subject of my tale by doing so. So please forgive an old man should he be too blunt." The room was so silent it was hard to tell if anyone of them even drew breath. "Privet Drive was attacked by Voldemort himself in the middle of the night." No one even flinched at the name, as they were busy contemplating the effects such an event would reap. "He left no survivors. Harry Potter is dead."
Time seemed to have halted, and the soft crackling of the fire seemed suddenly deafening, as it was the only source of sound in the room.
Ron slowly rose to his feet, startling the room out of their daze. Each step he took seemed to take immense effort. He opened the front door and exited, leaving the door open behind him. Mrs. Weasley turned and began to sob into her husband's shoulder. Hermione stood and followed her friend out the door. Ginny hadn't moved at all since Dumbledore had stopped speaking. She sat in the same position, her mouth slightly open. The only changes that made themselves evident were the tears that had fallen down her face, and were now dripping from her chin.
"We can fix this," Fred said after a few minutes, jumping out of his chair, and calling the attention of everyone in the room. "It'll be okay. We can fix this."
"Stop," George said quietly, walking slowly in the direction of his twin.
"But all we would have to," Fred started.
"We can't," George choked out as the entire room stared on.
"We have to bring him back, George. He can't just." tears built up in his eyes, threatening to spill down his face at any moment.
"Fred," George said, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder as the shaking teen sank down the wall.
"He can't." he tried again before shaking sobs removed all chances of him speaking.
"I should be going," Albus Dumbledore announced, turning toward Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.
"Thank you, Albus," Mr. Weasley said, not moving from his position next to his wife. "Let us know if there is anything we can do." Dumbledore nodded and vanished.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Arthur Weasley's half-hour was up. He stared blankly at his empty living room. Mrs. Weasley had cried herself to sleep, and was now upstairs in bed. Bill and Charlie had both left to ask for time off from work so that they could attend the funeral in a few days. Percy had only come during his lunch break, and decided that he was needed at work, though Mr. Weasley knew his son well enough that he was sure the boy was only trying to keep his mind busy with other things. The twin's were in their old room, though it was rather unnerving as the customary explosions were missing. Ginny too had retreated to her room to cry in private.
Mr. Weasley sat at the kitchen table, sipping on the cup of strong tea he had poured for himself. His attention turned to the window above the kitchen sink.
The current occupants of The Burrow were mourning, as was he. He did not worry about them, though he was sure that they would not soon forget this loss. He worried instead for the two teenagers he could just make out huddled together beneath a tree at the edge of their property. He had loved Harry like a son, but his loss seemed so small when compared to what those two had just had ripped from them.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Molly Weasley entered the bedroom at the top of the stairs and shook its occupants awake. They both woke silently and nodded as they were instructed to get themselves dressed. Mrs. Weasley left, and they disentangled themselves from the sheets and one another's arms. Hermione headed to Ginny's room to get changed, and Ron took out his dress robes for the memorial service.
Hermione put on her dark blue dress robes and gave Ginny a soft nudge in the side, pulling the girl out of her peaceful slumber. She was sleeping soundly again before Hermione made it out of the room. Ron met her in the hallway, and they continued silently toward the kitchen. They watched through unseeing eyes as the rest of the family slowly made their way downstairs, and ate breakfast.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The funeral was a circus. It would have infuriated Ron if he had noticed it, but Ron didn't seem to notice anything. He simply stared through unfocused eyes at the box that would forever hold the body of his best friend. Thoughts passed through his head at random disturbing the eerie silence that had overtaken his mind after Dumbledore gave them the news.
. It's too small. Harry doesn't like small spaces. They remind him of his cupboard.
People gave kind words about the departed. They sang songs about how much better off he was, and how he would be missed, but all went unnoticed by Ron.
The casket was opened, and everyone was allowed to pay their last respects.
. He doesn't have his glasses on. Where are they? He needs his glasses.
The line of people seemed as though it would never end.
. People are staring at him. That always made him nervous. Made. Made. Past tense.
Ron broke. When Dumbledore told him what had happened he didn't cry. When Hermione had broken into tears that evening beneath the tree he didn't cry. While they were planning the funeral he didn't cry. When they opened the casket to reveal his fallen friend he didn't cry. No one was sure what had set Ron off, but he spent the remainder of the service with his head in his hands, his chest heaving with silent sobs.
The funeral ended, and the Weasleys went home. Ron and Hermione climbed the stairs and crawled into Ron's bed. They wrapped their arms around each other, and fell immediately to sleep.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Harry rolled over and attempted to burrow farther into the warm covers surrounding him. He was nearly back to sleep when he got the peculiar sensation that someone was watching him. He opened his bleary eyes to reveal a world of fuzzy white shapes. Hospital wing again. He tried to recall what scrape had landed him there this time, as he groped for his glasses.
They were placed in his hand and he quickly put them on. The smiling face of a middle aged blonde woman came into focus, as did that of a rather stocky older man.
"Hi," the woman said brightly, "You're dead."
A/N There you have it. Not a bad length either considering my average was slowly getting smaller. Tell me what you think!