This surely reminds me about the last time I started on this fic... a few reviews in the beginning, I am not surprised any more since the beginning well... it surely drags a lot.

However, if you want to know, this fic actually received over 300 reviews at the end. It's also 73 chapters long (believe it or not) I have a lot of editing to do.

I have a goal to edit near 200 chapters before I am done with (which is the sum of the total amount of chapters for this story and two others).

Chapter 4 Smoke, ashes and dust...

(5:am at Hogwarts)

Time after time, the battle replayed in her mind. Once again she saw the terror of destruction replay before her as comrades and friends fell for the power of the Dark Lord and his minions. She could still feel the creepy sensation as the Dementors approached them, the fear clutching their hearts and making all logical reasons useless. She sat silently on her chair in front of the Headmaster, tears trickling down her cheeks until they dripped to the floor. She thought about the friends she had left, and what Dumbledore saw was a powerless being taken down to Earth. Nothing he said would calm her, he could tell her not to return back.

A simple knock on the door changed everything.

"Come in" Dumbledore said calmly, not taking his eyes from her.

"Good morning" a strange old man said from the doorway. "I hope I'm not disturbing in privacy."

"Not at all Alastor. Please come in, sit down." Dumbledore said, gesturing him towards a second chair.

"I prefer standing. "Alastor answered" Who knows how many curses there can be put on a simple chair. Not that I think there would be in your office, but constant vigilance... constant vigilance! "

"Now, what's so urgent that you have to meet me in the early morning. "

"I came here on Order business. It's about the funeral and Harry. You know who."

Moody gestured with his hand towards some part of the room. Cassandra looked up to see him pointing at one of the many paintings in the room, containing one of the many old Headmasters and his pale Poodle.

"Miss Ridgeback. Could you please just leave us for a minute? Something urgent has happened and Mr Moody and I need to discuss it in private. Feel free to talk to the house-elves or ghosts around here if you need any help around to find your way, I am sure you will find many of them quite amusing. Good luck, child! "

With that she was sent back through the door, with a curious feeling. What was going on?

(Rosengard)

Smoke rose up to the sky which had turned blood red from the warm smoke of dead bodies. The sky cried, leaving the earth covered in a thin layer of dried red blood, the very same that came from the thousand of dead, from the past and from the present. All were killed by the same evil.

A croaked laughter echoed through the burnt hills and the deserted castle. The Dark Lord had finally succeeded.

Some miles away the last free students were fighting a lost battle. The ones who weren't killed had been sent down to the castles dungeons to rot. The ones who were dead were lucky, since they didn't need to feel the torture which the living felt.

The last defenders soon fell, dead or too weak to carry on the battle. Among those was Headmaster Johnsson, who now cried, begging the Dark Lord to show him mercy.

"Stand up you fool. Meet your greatest fear and serve him. I'll show you mercy, but only if you can serve me well. I'll give you powers, powers to destroy anything in our way. A new time is rising. It's time for the pure blood to rule this world."

The Dark Lord gave him a helping hand. The old Headmaster took it only to feel...

Pain...

...searing pain...

"Stand up, you're useless. Avada Kedavra!"

A body fell to the ground. The face still wore the expression of true fear. Blood still trickled from small cuts on arms and legs, though his heart had stopped beating. The old headmaster was dead even before he fell to the ground.

Smoke will rise from hidden treasures

Ashes will burn in golden red flames

Dust will blow to a thousand places

Heirs of old, come back again

(Number Twelve, Grimmauld place.)

Harry woke up, shivering slightly. It wasn't cold in the room, yet he could feel it through his very veins, like he had forgotten the feeling of warmth. He knew that ever since The Dark Lord's return over a year ago that this would happen more often. However, even if it happened a hundred times, it still felt as cold as ever.

The memories flooded away, it became impossible to hold on to them. He remembered coming to the Headquarters the previous day, meeting Hermione, and Draco. He remembered the fuss over having Draco as a roommate, but not much more. It seemed as if all his memories had been wiped from his brain. Perhaps once he woke up again, the memories would return, yet he doubted it.

Deciding to go back to sleep he laid down again. In only a few hours a great funeral would take place and he would need his energy to face it. It was time to bid Sirius his last and final farewell...

TBC

Bah, had forgotten how much work that had to be done, quite a lot was rewritten, for example the first parts of the story had to be rewritten from scratch. Not to mention a giant fluke, but I am not saying more, that last part was completely embarrassing.