Chapter 03

• The Funeral •

Three months had passed since Harry had first disappeared from the wizarding world. More then two since the hand of the clock had begun spinning. It still did, the owner refused to remove it. Another hand lay still, never moving from where it had stopped a few weeks before. Somewhere nearby a woman wept all the time.

The world of wizards seemed to crumble piece by piece, falling to the hands of Voldemort and his minions.

Hogwarts was one of the places where there was unending sadness. A great ceremony was taking place there, not the graduation of the seventh year students or of a great prize. The year was not over nor was any great celebration taking place. Yet still the great hall overflowed with the thousands of people who sat waiting. Countless damp eyes followed the headmasters slow plod along the stage, his age showing more than ever. Some barely recognized his broken state.

Those closest to him almost felt ashamed to look upon him in this state. The same man they were staring at had saved them many times from many threats and yet here he stood, ashamed. He knew he had failed and the whole room felt it. To him the war was over even if no one else knew it. They would lose no matter how much they tried and no matter how he faced the opposition.

Standing in front of the crowd he understood the muggle phrase 'the silence was deafening'. No one spoke at all, and only the occasional sob or sniffle or the rustle of clothing broke the silence.

"Some of you may know Harry personally, of his dedication to stopping Voldemort, of his unwavering courage. Some of you may have encountered it by way of another," he began, fighting off the tears that he had held back with so much difficulty. "But all of us here have felt his influence. He is why we are all here today," he said heavily, pausing not for effect, but to keep himself from breaking down in front of them.

Remembering the night he had found Harry crying, bundled in ashes a tear slid down his cheek. His parents had risked it all, Harry had risked it all and now they were all gone. They were lost to the evil that was spreading through the world capturing the hearts of those who would otherwise be good people. There was no one left who would be able to defeat that evil, the hearts of the wizards and witches had turned – and more and more joined them everyday.

Looking down Dumbledore saw his hands white from the grip he held on the stadium, and he took a deep breath trying to calm himself he wouldn't allow himself to die in front of them. He was, after all, their very last hope – especially now that Harry was gone.

Knowing he had successfully made it this far it seemed easier somehow. From this point on all he had to do was recount everything he loved about Harry without crying. Though that was no easy task.

"In life Harry did things that some of us find unimaginable. He stood up to the vilest of men and walked away. As a child he was faced with things most of us could not understand. His muggle family had no love for him or his parents, the detested magic altogether. Yet, when he came to Hogwarts he was perhaps the most caring of children I have ever met. He found a place where he was at home and yet still he was an outsider because of something that happened in his youth."

A loud sound echoed in the hallways beyond the door and Dumbledore paused again, another tear rolling down his face. He understood how foolish he had been to leave Harry in the hands of those muggles. In the past he had done many foolish things and now Harry was the greatest of them. After condemning Sirius to death, and being unable to save him because of the love he had for Harry. After that Harry had been different, his resolve had changed. It was a good thing perhaps that he worked as hard as he did but something of Harry had died with Sirius and that something was not ever filled again.

Hermione had been with him, Hermione and Ron might have been the only reason Harry still fought. Hermione, Ron and the DA. Dumbledore stared down at their solemn faces, only one whose eyes were still dry. Neville. Of all the people that Dumbledore had seen change Neville had been the one that changed most drastically. He was the one who had taken charge in the DA now, even if Hermione was their unanimously voted leader he was a close second. All of them had become elite fighters who rivaled even Aurors, but Neville was by far the strongest of them. If there was any chance it lay with them. But Dumbledore knew it was not the truth, he had lived through so many years that he never ever doubted a prophecy and Harry's had clearly said that the only one for either of them to die was through the others hand. Voldemort would live on, perhaps forever, it was something he had been striving for since he had first come to power.

A chill crept up Dumbledores spine as he looked out onto the faces of the people below him. Something wasn't right, he'd had this feeling before. The doors of the room burst open and with them swept a great wind, bringing many of the people to their feet. A second shiver touched Dumbledore as the breeze reached him. A long figure appeared, gliding down the path between the isles. His cloak covered every bit of his body.

As the figure moved forward a murmur ran through the visitors in the hall. The figure made no sounds, no visible steps, no movement of any kind except for the continual forward motion. "It's a wraith," some whispered while other believed it to be a ghoul of some sort or a ghost like those that frequented the castle. Still it's was clearly visible and not just some apparition it only left people to wonder as it continued forward without saying a word.

Behind Dumbledore there was an intake of breath, a heart that began to beat faster, not from fear, but from love. A hand gripped the arm of the seat tight. The wood splintered, but she didn't notice as the blood seeped along her hand, she only had one single thought.

Had things been different, had Dumbledore been more aware he would have realized it right away. He would have felt the awful power that overtook the room, calming them all, he would have stepped forward to prevent entrance.

Two of the torches near the front flickered and died as the figure approached. It glided up the steps effortlessly as the whole hall watched, entranced.

"I am afraid," a smooth voice said from beneath the cloak. Windswept black hair appeared from beneath the hood and a chalky white complexion with jaded green eyes stared at Dumbledore. "That the reports of my death had been greatly exaggerated." His voice was smooth and swept over the crowd, calming them even more, making them completely docile.

"Your job with Voldemort is finished old man, he's my concern," it continued and amazingly not a single person even was startled in the least, they were just staring up at the stand like puppets waiting for their strings to be pulled. There were a few fighting it, but they were still influenced by it and too busy fighting it to listen to exactly what was going on.

Dumbledore, having lost all sense of thought stepped forward, unable to speak. His hand gripped the podium so tightly that his wrinkled knuckles began to whiten. Memories of a dark past floated over him and he wondered if he could move to strike the imposter down.

In his experience Voldemort was more than just sadistic, and something like this would be just the sort of thing he would enjoy watching from afar. Still, it was hard to believe even he would make such a move when he'd been so quiet since the boys death. It was utter insanity and Dumbledore could not take it. He kneeled, his heart beating fast and angrily, but his body unable to keep up with what he knew he had to do.

When Ronald Weasley had turned out to be the man Peter Pettigrew Dumbledore had been ashamed he'd not seen it before. It was obvious how Harry had been taken over, how he'd disappeared from the world and it was just as obvious why the body was never found. They didn't want him to be found, they wanted people forever in doubt whether their precious boy-who-lived was still alive. Perhaps they'd wanted to do this, to call up emotions by sending someone who looked like Harry to his own funeral.

All Dumbledore could do was stare and weep softly. He was beaten, beaten by a image of the past, beaten by Voldemorts cruel ways.

Hermione approached from behind, her hand dripping almost covered in blood. She wasn't crying as Dumbledore was expecting, but had a smile on her face. There was something in her eyes, something that made her seem more alive than she had in months. He'd seen a glimmer of it the night they found Peter Pettigrew crumbled across from the library doors, it had flickered in the flames as the library burned.

The truth crashed down upon him. The boy was Harry, he had indeed survived again, and he'd come out the other side changed, something that was no longer normal (if anything about the boy could be considered normal). The boy was Harry and she knew it was him, he must have come already, it must have been him who brought out Peter from hiding.

Why he hadn't come earlier was a mystery though, but Albus felt himself filling with some energy. He exhaled the breath he'd been holding without thought. He wanted to reach for the boy, hug him and protect him from everything, keep him alive no matter what the expense. Never having children of his own was painful for him, but Harry was the closest thing he had to one especially after the past year and now he was here again.

Someone successfully fought off the spell that had overcome the crowd and whispered angrily. Harry's head turned slowly, almost like a machine to the noise and smiled brightly when he saw who it was. "Draco," he whispered and a chill passed through the crowd.

He moved so quickly that no one saw him move. In a single moment he was missing from the podium and standing in front of the boy who was his nemesis in life, but no longer in death. To him Draco was weak now, as was the rest of the world and it was barely worth it to even acknowledge the existence of any of the students. Yet still, he was there and he had yet to fully gain control of his old emotions, his transformation had not, nor ever would be complete. He had the best of both worlds now, a bit of humanity and with it magical powers, and he also had forever at his grasp, eternity would be his.

"Hello my Draco," Harry said softly and another chill ran through the crowd. With a gesture of his hand the other boys who had always stood as guards were released from the spell. They blinked as if coming out of a daze and looked around slightly confused. "Did you know that your mother was willing to sacrifice you so that she could live? You must have gotten her letter by now, the one that wanted you to return home. Did you write her back asking why? I'm guessing your owl never made it back, did it?"

Smiling maliciously Harry leaned into the boy who was stiff with anger. "Don't worry," he added, "she won't let you back in anyway. She's mine now, body and soul. She'll only do as I ask."

Draco hissed and reached forward to grab Harry but he was gone in the blink of an eye. "Oh come on Draco," Harry laughed from behind, and the crowd was swept away with the laughter feeling a sense of bliss and no longer even noticing what was going on in front of them.

"This from the boy who was standing over me moments before I died? Surely you can do better," Harry said and was once again standing in front of Draco. "Don't worry, you won't feel helpless for long, none of your comrades did."

The two goons at Draco's side finally got some sense of what they were doing and stepped forward to protect Draco. Again the attacks only struck thin air. This time Harry was standing on the shoulders of the unaware students in front of Draco. There was a swish of noise, but no one could see movement at all and suddenly the two goons were falling to the floor unconscious.

"No one around to help anymore. I left them alive though, so you'd have a few more seconds to live when I come for you. I want you to see me rip their spinal column out of their back as they die so you'll understand what will be happening to you. If you want a quicker death go home, I'll have your mother tie you down so you can watch me turn her before you die. So you can see her eyes lusting after me and doing anything I wish. She doesn't even remember your father anymore Draco. And you'll pass to like the cool morning air, gone from her mind without any remorse."

Dumbledore had heard some of what was said and was regaining some of his composure, but at the same time horrified at the way Harry was speaking. It was as if he wasn't Harry anymore, the boy he loved was there physically, but he was no longer the same boy of only a few months before.

In another instant Draco was crumbling to the floor and Harry was standing on the podium again staring at the old man. A hand slipped into right hand and he could feel the heartbeat of the woman he loved. The scent of her blood was driving him mad and he was doing his best to concentrate on the task at hand so he could leave.

"You are no longer needed Albus, you no longer have part to play in this tragedy. Do not interfere again, it is my role to fulfill," Harry said shivering from the smell which seemed to become more and more enticing.

Still finding it difficult to believe that the person in front of him was the same Harry he'd known for so many years Dumbledore only nodded mutedly watching as Hermione pulled Harry closer to her with tears rolling down her face. He turned to her then and Dumbledore continued to listen.

"You came back to me again," Hermione said softly, more tears rolling down her face. "Take me with you this time," she asked with a look of dedication on her face. It was almost as if she were asking for him to kill her, but Dumbledore shook off the thought.

Even with his emotions under control Harry would not look down into her eyes because he was afraid he would lose that very control he'd been working so hard to hold. "I'll do no such thing," he said, staring at the empty wall behind her.

"I'm not afraid," she whispered softly and her right hand rose to touch his face. A drop of blood fell into Harry's lips and his tongue slipped out, tasting it before he could stop himself. He choked and closed his eyes, trembling openly.

"No," he almost shouted and started to pull back. "You don't understand, I refuse to do such a thing to you. It will take the life of my child and it will hurt you more than you could ever imagine. I won't allow it."

Her bloody hand reached up again, no longer trying to stroke his face, but getting closer to his mouth. "You promised me you'd never leave me, that we would stay together forever."

Exhaling heavily Harry turned his face away from her but couldn't hide the lust that the blood was causing to rise within him. "I also made another promise to keep you safe. This is the only way I can do that."

"No!" Hermione shouted and thrust her wrist at him. "Do it!"

The spell that had come over the crowd was broken as Harry began to lose control of himself. No one understood exactly what was happening, it was as if they'd stepped out of a hazy memory. Harry had returned, that much was obvious, but he was different too. A few of them no longer revered him, instead they feared him, he could feel them all as their hearts began to beat faster. It was a good fear, Harry wanted to crush some of them, show them that their fears were necessary.

Next to Harry Dumbledore gasped, grasping what Hermione was insinuating and how Harry had changed so quickly. "You're…" but he caught his words before he revealed it to the rest of the crowd.

Hermione pulled back her hand and ran a nail across it, then shoved it back to Harry. "Do it!" she screamed at him, her heart racing so fast that Harry knew she was more than a little scared. Still the open wound called to him and he had to fight himself him self to not grab for it as she wanted. It had taken a great deal of time for him to gain as much control over the urges as he did and now it was all failing.

"Leave!" bellowed Dumbledore, finding words again. With a wave of his wand he banished an already fleeing Harry.

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