A/N: Wow. I didn't expect people to be that interested in my fic. I grovel before you. -bows- I'm not worthy! I'm not worthy! BTW, This is set in sixth year, about halfway through October. If there are any pairings, they will probably be slash. I will put warnings up when it starts, though, so those of you who are horrified by that sort of thing can avoid it.

Chapter 2: What Now?

I wasn't sure what I expected, but it certainly wasn't what happened. Dumbledore stood up and grabbed me by the shoulders. He looked angry.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Harry Potter."

He did not believe me. I really didn't expect him to. It was really quite unbelievable. He seemed to loom over me.

"Who are you really?"

"I already told you, I'm Harry Potter."

"Prove it."

"I lived in a cupboard until I was eleven. In my third year, I met Sirius Black, found out he was my godfather, and agreed to live with him. That feeling that I was going to live with him instead of my bastard relatives is still one of my happiest memories." Then I lifted the hair over my forehead to show him my famous scar.

Snape looked a little dazed. "You lived in a cupboard?"

I nodded. " The one under the stairs. My Hogwarts letter was addressed to it. When the Dursleys saw it they moved me to the smallest bedroom because they thought the wizards were watching them."

Dumbledore sat down heavily. "You were dead. I watched you die. I even buried you."

"As far as I can tell, I still am," I answered.

"That is simply not possible," Snape put forth. He seemed annoyed, though I really didn't blame him. After all, one of his least favorite people in the world was dead and he couldn't even enjoy it. "Dead people do not walk and talk and breathe-"

"But that's just it," I interrupted. "I am not breathing. I do so only when I need to say something, but otherwise, nothing." And I promptly did not take one breath for the next ten minutes.

Dumbledore stood up once more. "We are taking you to see Madame Pomfrey. There is something wrong here, and I want her to examine you."

BREAKBREAKBREAKBREAKBREAKBREAKBREAKBREAKBREAKBREAK

While Madame Pomfrey looked me over, I questioned Dumbledore about what was going to happen.

"What about Ron and Hermione? Will they be told?"

Madame Pomfrey swatted me and told me to be still.

Dumbledore hesitated in answering my question. "...They are deeply in mourning for you. It would make them unbelievably happy to see you again. However, Mr. Weasly is not the best at keeping things quiet, and this is definitely something that needs to be kept secret. I feel it it best to not say anything."

"You have to tell them. Hermione is good at keeping secrets, and she can make sure Ron doesn't let anything slip."

Madame Pomfrey was becoming increasingly agitated as she tried to make me stop fidgeting whilst she poked and prodded me.

"If you feel that they can trusted, then I can bring them in to see you tomorrow afternoon. I will give you a vacant room near the dungeons for now, until something else can be arranged."

"I am through examining him." Madame Pomfrey announced, looking a little queasy. "There is no doubt about it, Albus, the boy may be awake, but he is certainly not alive. I could find no pulse, no heartbeat whatsoever, and I can think of no plausible explanation for any of it. There is no known case of anything like this. Frankly, I am at a loss. He doesn't have a treatable condition, as there is no cure for death, but I don't think we can just dismiss it either."

"We are by no means going to dismiss it," replied Dumbledore. "But for now I feel we should let Harry rest."

He gave me the directions to my temporary room, and I left. I had barely gotten out of my robes and into the bed before I fell aleep. It had been a long day.