Disclaimer: this is not mine!
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Dumbledore stayed the rest of the day. He lost brilliantly to Ron three times at chess, and visited Mr. Weasley when he came home. Percy was most surprised to see him, but still he retreated up to his room to be the workaholic that he was.
That night, Harry went up to bed and waited for Mrs. Weasley to come with his usual dreamless sleep potion, talking with Ron and Hermione. Mrs. Weasley and Dumbledore appeared at the door.
"Professor?" Harry asked, surprised to see his headmaster there.
"Hello, Harry," said Professor Dumbledore, taking the goblet from Mrs. Weasley's hands. She looked somewhat less cheery than normal, a fact that Harry immediately picked up on, but didn't mention.
Dumbledore handed the goblet to Harry, and, after looking curiously at his headmaster, he began to drink.
Harry immediately spat the drink back into the goblet.
"This isn't Dreamless Sleep potion!" he said.
"No, Harry," said Dumbledore, shaking his head. "It is ordinary sleeping potion."
"But what will--" Harry protested. Dumbledore raised a hand to silence him. Ron and Hermione looked shocked and furious next to him.
"Professor," Hermione began, but she, too, was silenced.
"I must ask you to drink all of this, Harry," said Dumbledore solumnly.
Harry stared at him, disbelieving.
"I won't," he said.
"Please, Harry-" Dumbledore began.
"No," said Harry. "I'm sorry, Professor, but I won't -" He was silened by Professor Dumbledore placing the goblet to Harry's lips, and tipping it back steadily, forcing him to drink it all.
"I'm sorry I had to do that, Harry," he said, before Harry fell asleep.
"Professor," said Ron incredulously, finding his voice.
"Shh," hissed his mother. "Out in the hall, both of you." They left and assembled in the hall outside Ron's room, and Mrs. Weasley closed the door.
"Mum--" said Ron, but was quieted by her serious/warning look.
"Ron," said Mrs. Weasley, "I'm going to have to ask you to sleep on the couch tonight."
"All right, Mum," said Ron, not protesting because of Mrs. Weasley's expression, but he and Hermione shared a confused look. Hermione went to Ginny's room, Ron went downstairs, Mrs. Weasley followed him, and Dumbledore muttered a silencing spell around Ron's room and went inside.
Dumbledore sat in the corner of the room, not looking forward to the task of observing Harry's tortured sleep. He was sleeping soundly for now, but he knew that would soon end...
*Harry felt his feet slam into the ground; his injured leg gave way, and he fell forward; his hand let go of the Triwizard Cup at last. He raised his head.
"Where are we?" he said.
Cedric shook his head. He got up, pulled Harry to his feet, and they looked around.
They were standing in a dark and overgrown graveyard; the black outline of a small church was visible beyond a large yew tree to their right. A hill rose above them to their left. Harry could just make out the outline of a fine old house on the hillside.
Cedric looked down at the Triwizard Cup and then up at Harry.
"Did anyone tell *you* the cup was a Portkey?" he asked.
"Nope," said Harry. He was looking around the graveyard. It was completely silent and slightly eerie. "Is this supposed to be part of the task?"
"I dunno," said Cedric. He sounded slightly nervous. "Wands out, d'you reckon?"
"Yeah," said Harry, glad that Cedric had made the suggestion rather than him.
They pulled out their wands. Harry kept looking around him. He had, yet again, the strange feeling that they were being watched.
"Someone's coming," he said suddenly.
They watched the figure drawing nearer. From the way it was walking and holding its arms, he could tell that it was carrying looked like a baby...or was it merely a bundle of robes?
Harry lowered his want slightly and glanced sideways at Cedric. Cedric shot him a quizzical look. They both turned back to watch the approaching figure.
It stopped beside a towering marble headstone, only six feet from them.
And then, without warning, Harry's scar exploded with pain. 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 the spare."*
*Oh, no, oh, no,* thought Harry frantically in his sleep.
A swishing noise and a second voice, which screeched the words to the night: *"Avada Kedarva!"**
Harry didn't wake up. He couldn't, drugged up with the potion as he was.
Dumbledore swallowed, watching Harry's cruel sleep. He waited for more.
*"Harry," a voice was saying. "Harry."
Harry sat up on the dark grass he had been lying on.
"Harry," the voice called out again.
"Cho?" Harry asked.
"Harry, it's not your fault."
"Yes it is! I'm so sorry."
"No, I don't blame you."
"But I do! All of it is my fault."
"Harry, no, Harry! Harry! Hey, Harry!" Cho had morphed into Colin Creevy, his smiling star-struck face gazed upon Harry.
"Colin, go away," said Harry grumpily.
"Harry, Harry, can I take your picture Harry? Can I?"
"*No,* Colin."
"It's not all your fault, you know. Cedric killed himself. You know that. He didn't have to come."
"But I didn't have to offer."
A whooshing noise, a flash of green light, high, cold, cruel laughter, and Colin Creevy fell down dead.
"Colin!"
"It's not your fault," said the hollow voice of Colin's shadow, that was rising out of him, then floated away.
The dream shifted to a dark, dusty room seen in a dream, a year before.
"We must not forget Harry Potter," hissed Voldemort.
"Yes, master," came the voices of the death eaters Wormtail, Macnair the executioner, Crabbe, and Goyle.
"Crabbe, Goyle."
"Yes, master," their fumbling voices said.
"Get out, I won't have you ruining my plans."
"Yes, master," they said again, and left.
"Now..." said Voldemort. "How shall we get to Harry Potter?"
"Well, sir, perhaps you could just, er, not kill him right away, and, er, try to, er..."
"Shut up, Wormtail! Quit wasting my time! But I do see what you're getting at..." Voldemort said. "We'll kill off somebody close to him. Make him suffer before he dies. Make him realize he was foolish not to take my side." He laughed evilly.
"My Lord, if I may speak," Macnair said.
"Yes." said Voldemort.
"I read... in the Daily Prophet last spring. I kept the article in case it were to be of importance." Macnair said, reaching a hand into his robes and pulling out a folded piece of paper. Unfolding it, he said, "It says here... his close friend, Colin Creevy." He handed it to the Dark Lord. "If I may suggest him."
"Excellent, Macnair, you have pleased me. Let us torture him before we kill. We shall do it before his return to Hogwarts, when that muggle-loving fool, Albus Dumbledore, won't have him right under his nose."
Wormtail and Macnair gave their murmurs of approval.
Dumbledore sat uneasily, watching Harry sleep. Really, it is good for him. I know that. I just wish there were another way.
Voldemort's wand began to emit echoing screams of pain...then -- Voldemort's red eyes widened with shock -- a dense, smoky hand flew out of the tip of it and vanished...more shouts of pain...and then something much larger began to blossom from Voldemort's wand tip, a great, grayish something, that looked as though it were made of the solidest, densest smoke....It was a head...now a chest and arms...the torso of Cedric Diggory. His form emerged in its entirety from the end of Voldemort's wand, as though it were squeezing itself out of a very narrow tunnel...and this shade of Cedric stood up, and spoke.
"Hold on, Harry," it said.
Its voice was distant and echoing. Harry looked at Voldemort...his wide red eyes were still shocked...he had no more expected this than Harry had...and, very dimly, Harry heard the frightened yells of the Death Eaters, prowling around the edges of the golden dome....
More screams of pain from the wand...and then something else emerged from its tip...the dense shadow of a second head, quickly followed by arms and torso...an old man Harry had seen only in a dream was now pushing himself out of the end of the wand just as Cedric had done...and his shadow fell next to Cedric's, and surveyed Harry and Voldemort, and the golden web, and the connected wands, with mild surprise, leaning on his walking stick....
"He was a real wizard, then?" the old man said, his eyes on Voldemort. "Killed me, that one did....You fight him, boy...."
But already, yet another head was emerging...and this head, gray as a smoky statue, was a woman's....Harry, both arms shaking now as he fought to keep his wand still, saw her drop to the ground and straighten up like the others, staring...
"Don't let go, now!" cried the shadow of Bertha Jorkins. "Don't let him get you, Harry -- don't let go!"
She and the other two shadowy figures began to pace around the inner walls of the golden web, while the Death Eaters flitted around the outside of it...and Voldemort's dead victims whispered as they circled the duelers, whispered words of encouragement to Harry, and hissed words Harry couldn't hear to Voldemort.
And now another head was emerging from the tip of Voldemort's wand, and Harry knew when he saw it who it would be. The smoky shadow of a young woman with long hair fell to the ground as Bertha had done, straightened up, and looked at him...and Harry, his arms shaking madly now, looked back into the ghostly face of his mother.
"Your father's coming..." she said quietly. "Hold on for your father...it will be all right...hold on..."
And he came...first his head, then his body...tall and untidy-haired like Harry, the smoky, shadowy form of James Potter blossomed from the end of Voldemort's wand, fell to the ground, and straightened like his wife. He walked close to Harry, looking down at him, and he spoke in the same distant, echoing voice as the others, but quietly, so that Voldemort, his face now livid with fear as his victims prowled around him, could not hear....
"When the connection is broken, we will linger for only moments...but we will give you time...you must get to the Portkey, it will return you to Hogwarts...do you understand, Harry?"
"Yes," Harry gasped, fighting now to keep a hold on his wand, which was slipping and sliding beneath his fingers.
"Harry..." whispered the figure of Cedric, "take my body back, will you? Take my body back to my parents...."
"I will," said Harry.
"Do it now," whispered his father's voice, "be ready to run...do it now...."
"NOW!" Harry yelled; he didn't think he could have held on for another moment anyway -- he pulled his wand upward with an almighty wrench, and the long thread broke; the cage of light vanished, the phoenix song died -- but the shadowy figures of Voldemort's victims did not disappear -- they were closing in upon Voldemort, shielding Harry from his gaze --
And Harry ran as he had never run in his life, knocking two stunened Death Eaters aside as he passed; he zigzagged behind headstones, feeling their curses following him, hearing them hit the headstones -- he was dodging curses and graves, pelting toward Cedric's body, no longer aware of the pain in his leg, his whole being concentrated on what he had to do --
"*Stun him!*" he heard Voldemort scream.
Ten feet from Cedric, Harry dived behind a marble angel to avoid the jets of red light and saw the tip of its wing shatter as the spells hit it. Gripping his wand more tightly, he dashed out from behind the angel --
"*Impedimenta!*" he bellowed, pointing his wand wildly over his shoulder at the Death Eaters running at him.
From a muffled yell, he thought he had stopped at least one of them, but there was no time to stop and look; he jumped over the cup and dived as he heard more wand blasts behind him; more jets of light flew over his head as he fell, stretching out his hand to grap Cedric's arm --
"Stand aside! I will kill him! He is mine!" shrieked Voldemort.
Harry's hand had closed on Cedric's wrist; one tombstone stood between him and Voldemort, but Cedric was too heavy to carry, and the cup was out of reach --
Voldemort's red eyes flamed in the darkness. harry saw his mouth curl into a smile, saw him raise his wand.
"*Accio!*" Harry yelled, pointing his wand at the Triwizard Cup.
It flew into the air and soared toward him. Harry caught it by the handle --
He head Voldemort's scream of fury at the same moment that he felt the jerk behind his navel that meant the Portkey had worked -- it was speeding him away in a whirl of wind and color, and Cedric along with him....They were going back.
Harry stirred, Dumbledore sat up straighter.
Harry was in a large and noisy room, hovering over something...a casket. From what he saw and heard, he could tell he was at a funeral... his own funeral.
Looking around the room, Harry saw everyone from Hogwarts. Dumbledore was joking with Professor McGonagall. Draco Malfoy looked as if he'd never been happier in his life. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were there, dancing to no music, absolutely thrilled. Everyone there looked so *happy.*
"Good riddance!" Harry heard Hagrid boom.
This was his funeral. No one missed Harry at all, in fact, they were glad to have him gone, no one listening to the service. It made Harry feel worse than he'd ever felt before. Even Ron and Hermione didn't seem to care.
No one cared that he was dead. They were glad, because he was the one who caused Voldemort to return.
Harry floated away, into the clouds, where he stopped.
"Hello, Harry!" said a cheerful voice. Harry looked around this other world, this world on top of the clouds.
"Dad!" Harry shouted. "Mum!" he said, seeing the woman on his father's right. They all hugged.
"We're so glad to see you," said Lily, her green eyes all teary. Harry was so happy that he was crying too. All three of them were crying with the joy of being together at last, and Harry felt loved for the first time of his life.
"We missed you so much," James said.
Dumbledore watched Harry sleep. Daylight was starting, and Harry's sleep had calmed. He was sleeping easily now, smiling slightly. Dumbledore gave a small smile at this temporary relief. Harry soon woke up, not remembering any of his dreams, yet they still weighed on his subconcious. Dumbledore, seeing Harry starting to wake up, quietly left the room, undid the Silencing Spell, and apparated away. Harry got up to start the day.
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Dumbledore stayed the rest of the day. He lost brilliantly to Ron three times at chess, and visited Mr. Weasley when he came home. Percy was most surprised to see him, but still he retreated up to his room to be the workaholic that he was.
That night, Harry went up to bed and waited for Mrs. Weasley to come with his usual dreamless sleep potion, talking with Ron and Hermione. Mrs. Weasley and Dumbledore appeared at the door.
"Professor?" Harry asked, surprised to see his headmaster there.
"Hello, Harry," said Professor Dumbledore, taking the goblet from Mrs. Weasley's hands. She looked somewhat less cheery than normal, a fact that Harry immediately picked up on, but didn't mention.
Dumbledore handed the goblet to Harry, and, after looking curiously at his headmaster, he began to drink.
Harry immediately spat the drink back into the goblet.
"This isn't Dreamless Sleep potion!" he said.
"No, Harry," said Dumbledore, shaking his head. "It is ordinary sleeping potion."
"But what will--" Harry protested. Dumbledore raised a hand to silence him. Ron and Hermione looked shocked and furious next to him.
"Professor," Hermione began, but she, too, was silenced.
"I must ask you to drink all of this, Harry," said Dumbledore solumnly.
Harry stared at him, disbelieving.
"I won't," he said.
"Please, Harry-" Dumbledore began.
"No," said Harry. "I'm sorry, Professor, but I won't -" He was silened by Professor Dumbledore placing the goblet to Harry's lips, and tipping it back steadily, forcing him to drink it all.
"I'm sorry I had to do that, Harry," he said, before Harry fell asleep.
"Professor," said Ron incredulously, finding his voice.
"Shh," hissed his mother. "Out in the hall, both of you." They left and assembled in the hall outside Ron's room, and Mrs. Weasley closed the door.
"Mum--" said Ron, but was quieted by her serious/warning look.
"Ron," said Mrs. Weasley, "I'm going to have to ask you to sleep on the couch tonight."
"All right, Mum," said Ron, not protesting because of Mrs. Weasley's expression, but he and Hermione shared a confused look. Hermione went to Ginny's room, Ron went downstairs, Mrs. Weasley followed him, and Dumbledore muttered a silencing spell around Ron's room and went inside.
Dumbledore sat in the corner of the room, not looking forward to the task of observing Harry's tortured sleep. He was sleeping soundly for now, but he knew that would soon end...
*Harry felt his feet slam into the ground; his injured leg gave way, and he fell forward; his hand let go of the Triwizard Cup at last. He raised his head.
"Where are we?" he said.
Cedric shook his head. He got up, pulled Harry to his feet, and they looked around.
They were standing in a dark and overgrown graveyard; the black outline of a small church was visible beyond a large yew tree to their right. A hill rose above them to their left. Harry could just make out the outline of a fine old house on the hillside.
Cedric looked down at the Triwizard Cup and then up at Harry.
"Did anyone tell *you* the cup was a Portkey?" he asked.
"Nope," said Harry. He was looking around the graveyard. It was completely silent and slightly eerie. "Is this supposed to be part of the task?"
"I dunno," said Cedric. He sounded slightly nervous. "Wands out, d'you reckon?"
"Yeah," said Harry, glad that Cedric had made the suggestion rather than him.
They pulled out their wands. Harry kept looking around him. He had, yet again, the strange feeling that they were being watched.
"Someone's coming," he said suddenly.
They watched the figure drawing nearer. From the way it was walking and holding its arms, he could tell that it was carrying looked like a baby...or was it merely a bundle of robes?
Harry lowered his want slightly and glanced sideways at Cedric. Cedric shot him a quizzical look. They both turned back to watch the approaching figure.
It stopped beside a towering marble headstone, only six feet from them.
And then, without warning, Harry's scar exploded with pain. 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 the spare."*
*Oh, no, oh, no,* thought Harry frantically in his sleep.
A swishing noise and a second voice, which screeched the words to the night: *"Avada Kedarva!"**
Harry didn't wake up. He couldn't, drugged up with the potion as he was.
Dumbledore swallowed, watching Harry's cruel sleep. He waited for more.
*"Harry," a voice was saying. "Harry."
Harry sat up on the dark grass he had been lying on.
"Harry," the voice called out again.
"Cho?" Harry asked.
"Harry, it's not your fault."
"Yes it is! I'm so sorry."
"No, I don't blame you."
"But I do! All of it is my fault."
"Harry, no, Harry! Harry! Hey, Harry!" Cho had morphed into Colin Creevy, his smiling star-struck face gazed upon Harry.
"Colin, go away," said Harry grumpily.
"Harry, Harry, can I take your picture Harry? Can I?"
"*No,* Colin."
"It's not all your fault, you know. Cedric killed himself. You know that. He didn't have to come."
"But I didn't have to offer."
A whooshing noise, a flash of green light, high, cold, cruel laughter, and Colin Creevy fell down dead.
"Colin!"
"It's not your fault," said the hollow voice of Colin's shadow, that was rising out of him, then floated away.
The dream shifted to a dark, dusty room seen in a dream, a year before.
"We must not forget Harry Potter," hissed Voldemort.
"Yes, master," came the voices of the death eaters Wormtail, Macnair the executioner, Crabbe, and Goyle.
"Crabbe, Goyle."
"Yes, master," their fumbling voices said.
"Get out, I won't have you ruining my plans."
"Yes, master," they said again, and left.
"Now..." said Voldemort. "How shall we get to Harry Potter?"
"Well, sir, perhaps you could just, er, not kill him right away, and, er, try to, er..."
"Shut up, Wormtail! Quit wasting my time! But I do see what you're getting at..." Voldemort said. "We'll kill off somebody close to him. Make him suffer before he dies. Make him realize he was foolish not to take my side." He laughed evilly.
"My Lord, if I may speak," Macnair said.
"Yes." said Voldemort.
"I read... in the Daily Prophet last spring. I kept the article in case it were to be of importance." Macnair said, reaching a hand into his robes and pulling out a folded piece of paper. Unfolding it, he said, "It says here... his close friend, Colin Creevy." He handed it to the Dark Lord. "If I may suggest him."
"Excellent, Macnair, you have pleased me. Let us torture him before we kill. We shall do it before his return to Hogwarts, when that muggle-loving fool, Albus Dumbledore, won't have him right under his nose."
Wormtail and Macnair gave their murmurs of approval.
Dumbledore sat uneasily, watching Harry sleep. Really, it is good for him. I know that. I just wish there were another way.
Voldemort's wand began to emit echoing screams of pain...then -- Voldemort's red eyes widened with shock -- a dense, smoky hand flew out of the tip of it and vanished...more shouts of pain...and then something much larger began to blossom from Voldemort's wand tip, a great, grayish something, that looked as though it were made of the solidest, densest smoke....It was a head...now a chest and arms...the torso of Cedric Diggory. His form emerged in its entirety from the end of Voldemort's wand, as though it were squeezing itself out of a very narrow tunnel...and this shade of Cedric stood up, and spoke.
"Hold on, Harry," it said.
Its voice was distant and echoing. Harry looked at Voldemort...his wide red eyes were still shocked...he had no more expected this than Harry had...and, very dimly, Harry heard the frightened yells of the Death Eaters, prowling around the edges of the golden dome....
More screams of pain from the wand...and then something else emerged from its tip...the dense shadow of a second head, quickly followed by arms and torso...an old man Harry had seen only in a dream was now pushing himself out of the end of the wand just as Cedric had done...and his shadow fell next to Cedric's, and surveyed Harry and Voldemort, and the golden web, and the connected wands, with mild surprise, leaning on his walking stick....
"He was a real wizard, then?" the old man said, his eyes on Voldemort. "Killed me, that one did....You fight him, boy...."
But already, yet another head was emerging...and this head, gray as a smoky statue, was a woman's....Harry, both arms shaking now as he fought to keep his wand still, saw her drop to the ground and straighten up like the others, staring...
"Don't let go, now!" cried the shadow of Bertha Jorkins. "Don't let him get you, Harry -- don't let go!"
She and the other two shadowy figures began to pace around the inner walls of the golden web, while the Death Eaters flitted around the outside of it...and Voldemort's dead victims whispered as they circled the duelers, whispered words of encouragement to Harry, and hissed words Harry couldn't hear to Voldemort.
And now another head was emerging from the tip of Voldemort's wand, and Harry knew when he saw it who it would be. The smoky shadow of a young woman with long hair fell to the ground as Bertha had done, straightened up, and looked at him...and Harry, his arms shaking madly now, looked back into the ghostly face of his mother.
"Your father's coming..." she said quietly. "Hold on for your father...it will be all right...hold on..."
And he came...first his head, then his body...tall and untidy-haired like Harry, the smoky, shadowy form of James Potter blossomed from the end of Voldemort's wand, fell to the ground, and straightened like his wife. He walked close to Harry, looking down at him, and he spoke in the same distant, echoing voice as the others, but quietly, so that Voldemort, his face now livid with fear as his victims prowled around him, could not hear....
"When the connection is broken, we will linger for only moments...but we will give you time...you must get to the Portkey, it will return you to Hogwarts...do you understand, Harry?"
"Yes," Harry gasped, fighting now to keep a hold on his wand, which was slipping and sliding beneath his fingers.
"Harry..." whispered the figure of Cedric, "take my body back, will you? Take my body back to my parents...."
"I will," said Harry.
"Do it now," whispered his father's voice, "be ready to run...do it now...."
"NOW!" Harry yelled; he didn't think he could have held on for another moment anyway -- he pulled his wand upward with an almighty wrench, and the long thread broke; the cage of light vanished, the phoenix song died -- but the shadowy figures of Voldemort's victims did not disappear -- they were closing in upon Voldemort, shielding Harry from his gaze --
And Harry ran as he had never run in his life, knocking two stunened Death Eaters aside as he passed; he zigzagged behind headstones, feeling their curses following him, hearing them hit the headstones -- he was dodging curses and graves, pelting toward Cedric's body, no longer aware of the pain in his leg, his whole being concentrated on what he had to do --
"*Stun him!*" he heard Voldemort scream.
Ten feet from Cedric, Harry dived behind a marble angel to avoid the jets of red light and saw the tip of its wing shatter as the spells hit it. Gripping his wand more tightly, he dashed out from behind the angel --
"*Impedimenta!*" he bellowed, pointing his wand wildly over his shoulder at the Death Eaters running at him.
From a muffled yell, he thought he had stopped at least one of them, but there was no time to stop and look; he jumped over the cup and dived as he heard more wand blasts behind him; more jets of light flew over his head as he fell, stretching out his hand to grap Cedric's arm --
"Stand aside! I will kill him! He is mine!" shrieked Voldemort.
Harry's hand had closed on Cedric's wrist; one tombstone stood between him and Voldemort, but Cedric was too heavy to carry, and the cup was out of reach --
Voldemort's red eyes flamed in the darkness. harry saw his mouth curl into a smile, saw him raise his wand.
"*Accio!*" Harry yelled, pointing his wand at the Triwizard Cup.
It flew into the air and soared toward him. Harry caught it by the handle --
He head Voldemort's scream of fury at the same moment that he felt the jerk behind his navel that meant the Portkey had worked -- it was speeding him away in a whirl of wind and color, and Cedric along with him....They were going back.
Harry stirred, Dumbledore sat up straighter.
Harry was in a large and noisy room, hovering over something...a casket. From what he saw and heard, he could tell he was at a funeral... his own funeral.
Looking around the room, Harry saw everyone from Hogwarts. Dumbledore was joking with Professor McGonagall. Draco Malfoy looked as if he'd never been happier in his life. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were there, dancing to no music, absolutely thrilled. Everyone there looked so *happy.*
"Good riddance!" Harry heard Hagrid boom.
This was his funeral. No one missed Harry at all, in fact, they were glad to have him gone, no one listening to the service. It made Harry feel worse than he'd ever felt before. Even Ron and Hermione didn't seem to care.
No one cared that he was dead. They were glad, because he was the one who caused Voldemort to return.
Harry floated away, into the clouds, where he stopped.
"Hello, Harry!" said a cheerful voice. Harry looked around this other world, this world on top of the clouds.
"Dad!" Harry shouted. "Mum!" he said, seeing the woman on his father's right. They all hugged.
"We're so glad to see you," said Lily, her green eyes all teary. Harry was so happy that he was crying too. All three of them were crying with the joy of being together at last, and Harry felt loved for the first time of his life.
"We missed you so much," James said.
Dumbledore watched Harry sleep. Daylight was starting, and Harry's sleep had calmed. He was sleeping easily now, smiling slightly. Dumbledore gave a small smile at this temporary relief. Harry soon woke up, not remembering any of his dreams, yet they still weighed on his subconcious. Dumbledore, seeing Harry starting to wake up, quietly left the room, undid the Silencing Spell, and apparated away. Harry got up to start the day.