A/N: Yes, I do realize that Forever Silenced was next in line to be updated. But come on, I couldn't just leave a cliffhanger like that! I'm not that cruel (plus I really wanted to write this chapter.) Anyways...I don't own and here you go...

Chapter Twelve: Dead or Just Nearly Dead?

Hermione

"No," I whisper brokenly, staring at the corpse in my arms. "This can't be happening, NO!" I let out a choked sob and close my eyes, letting tears flow down my face. "No..."

I feel a hand rest on my shoulder and open my eyes, turning to look at Ron. He's staring at Harry, numb. He hasn't said anything, nothing at all. He's as lost in his grief as I am, and yet he tries to comfort me. But the hand on the shoulder doesn't help. The comforting words that people will no doubt pile upon me and Ron won't help. Nothing can change the fact that my best friend is lying on the ground in front of me, in a pool of his own blood, an expression of terror etched into his face.

I hear the portrait hole open, shattering the silence that has descended upon the common room. The little first year that ran off to get help is dragging Professor McGonagall by the hand, clearly unable to articulate what had happened.

"What is the meaning of..." she trails off upon seeing Harry's body, then runs forward in horror. "Someone run and fetch Madame Pomfrey!"

"It's too late," Max whispers, stepping forward and kneeling down beside Harry. I breifly wonder how a Ravenclaw got into our tower, but it doesn't really matter at the moment. She reaches out and closes Harry's eyes. The look on her face is a weary one, the look of a child who has seen far too much death.

Professor McGonagall, on the other hand, is trying to remain calm and collected, but failing miserably. The stern head of Gryffindor has likely never had to deal with something like this, one of her lions murdered in their own common room.

But then again, neither have any of us.

"Nudge? Can you go get a sheet, please?" Nudge nods at Max and runs off. I take a deep breath and reach foward, curling my hand around the hilt of the knife that snuffed out Harry's life. I pull it out. Much as doing such a thing hurts-it hurts to even look at him-I have to. I can't just leave him there, cold and lifeless. Maybe if I take the knife out he'll open his eyes, breathe. Live.

No such luck.

Nudge returns, handing the sheet to Max. Max turns to the frozen head of Gryffindor. "We should probably get him out of here."

She snaps out of her daze. "Yes...yes of course." Max drapes the sheet over Harry before lifting him like he weighs nothing, wrapping the sheet underneath him as she does. It makes me wonder; how many times has she done this? How many times has she seen someone die?

"Ron, Hermione, you two come along," Professor McGonagall says, using our first names for the first time ever. We follow, tears still streaming down my face, Ron almost robotic in his movements. How could this happen? How could Harry die, just like that?

In all these years, all of these near-death experiences, I guess I'd come to think of him as invincible. Untouchable. Unkillable. But we're all human. We're all flesh and blood. Even Harry. Still, it was hard to believe that it could happen so quickly. One minute talking and laughing, and the next...cold, hard reality.

Our silent procession walks through Hogwarts. The halls are empty, everyone in their common rooms, so no-one is here to witness this tragedy.

We enter the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey looks up from her paperwork. She sees the tears, the sheet, the wide-eyed, shocked Ron, and puts two and two together. Unlike Professor McGonagall, she doesn't go into shock, keeping a tight hold on her professionalism at all times. I wonder if she's doing it for us, or for herself. She steps out from behind the desk and walks over to us.

"Who?" she asks, though I can tell by the look in her eyes that she already knows.

"H-H-Harry," I manage to get out between sobs. Max walks over and places him on the bed. Madame Pomfrey closes her eyes and nods slightly, her suspicions confirmed. I see a brief flash of pain cross her face as Max unwraps the sheet, revealing the gaping, bloody wound.

"What happened?" she asks grimly, looking at the cut. "It looks like a stab wound."

"It is. A ghost took him over," answers Max, the one in our group who's the calmest, save Madame Pomfrey. "Made him stab himself. Then left before he..." she trails off. There's no need to say any more.

"Minerva, inform the headmaster," Madame Pomfrey says, wiping the blood away from Harry's lips with a wet cloth. "Hermione, Ron, Max, take this, it's a dreamless sleep potion. We'll talk more in the morning." Ron and I nod weakly and take the potion, Max hesitates before doing so.

As we drift off to sleep, my last thought is that Harry won't be there when I wake up. And then there's darkness.

Harry

Warmth is filling every inch of me, and I can see light through my closed eyelids. I've never been so comfortable, so at peace before. It literally feels like I'm one with the light surrounding me, if that makes any sense. I can feel a hand carding through my hair, and a pair of voices talking softly.

"Harry. Harry, it's time to wake up." I groan as I open my eyes, and find myself looking at the two people I've seen only in photographs and, once, a tall, ornate mirror...

My parents. My mum is gently running her fingers through my hair, untangling it. My dad is sitting next to us, smiling proudly.

"Mum? Dad?"

"Yes, Harry. It's us," mum says, smiling and helping me sit up. I'm just so tired.

And then I remember. A flash of silver, a burst of pain, looking down in shock to see my own hands driving a knife into my stomach, screaming in agony, twisting and thrashing, wondering how, how had this happened? And then darkness, obliviation. Death.

I was dead. I was fifteen and I was dead. Sure, I had expected it. But I thought I had until June, I thought that I'd be able to cherish those last months with my , it was warm and safe here, and I had my parents. But it just wasn't the same as being alive. To my utter humiliation, tears start rolling down my cheeks, and no matter what I do, they just keep coming.

"Shh, shh, it's okay." Mum says, wiping away my tears. "It's okay, it's okay." I just shake my head and keep sobbing. I was dead. Dead! This wasn't okay, it wasn't, it wasn't, it wasn't, it wasn't...

"Lily, he's hyperventilating."

"I can see that. Harry, calm down, calm down."

I was dead, dead, dead, dead...

"HARRY JAMES POTTER!"

"AHH!"

I jump backwards, Mum certainly can yell when she wants to. She took a deep breath.

"Sorry, but the comforting wasn't working, and I don't want you crying when you really have no reason to."

"No reason-"

"-to cry, yes. Now I want you to listen to me very, very closely, alright?" she asks, walking over to me and taking my wrists.

"Okay?"

"You. Are. Not. Dead."

But I remembered it so clearly, the knife, the pain, the horrible feeling of hopelessness as I watched my blood form in a pool around me. So I asked the one, important, crucial question.

"What?"

"Lily, you probably should have explained it a bit more thoroughly," Dad says in amusment.

"Well how else was I supposed to get him to stop crying!"

"CAN SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME WHAT'S GOING ON?"

"Okay, okay, no need to shout."

I just gave Dad a blank stare. One that clearly said 'you're kidding me, right?'

"Alright, maybe you deserve to shout a bit. But we were getting to the explanation. Patience is a virtue."

I groan.

"So," says Mum, giving Dad a look, "you were possessed by an evil spirit. I'm sure you know that."

"That's what I thought had happened, yes."

"We would have been there the instant the spirit entered you, fighting him out of your body. Unfortunately, at the level you're at now, in terms of your powers-"

"-which are awesome when they're not being used in an attempt to kill you by the way-" Dad cuts in.

"-your body can only host one spirit at a time without you spontaneously combusting," Mum continues as if he hasn't spoken. "The spirit that possessed you, however, wanted you to see what had happened before you died. So he left your body. I was then able to enter you and grab your soul and life last second."

"My life?"

"Look at yourself and then look at us." I look down at my hands. They're glowing very brightly, giving me the appearence that I've been lit on fire. My parents on the other hand, look transparent and ghost-like.

"Souls have a physical shape, life is just pure light. What you are currently is a combination of the two. When someone dies, their life is destroyed and their soul goes to the afterlife, or remains behind as a ghost. Since you still have your life, you can return to your body. Madame Pomfrey bandaged the cut, to make you look like you're sleeping or something. She's also currently in the same room as your body, so you should heal easily enough."

"But what if it happens again?" I ask fearfully. I have no intention of dying before June.

"Remember how we told you that you can only host one spirit at a time?" asks Dad. I nod. "Well, your mind puts up barriers to stop more than that from entering. A natural defense mechanism, if you will. So we'll put a spirit in your head at all times and keep all the evil spirits out!" I blink. Once. Twice.

Well, this is going to be 'fun.'

"Well, not at all times. We'll leave when you're training. Much as I don't like the greasy git-"

"James," Mum warns.

"Sorry, Professor Snape, I feel that I can trust him not to let any spirits hurt you. And he should be smart enough to put away all sharp objects, ropes, and lethal potions. So all he has to do is stop you from smashing your head against the wall and dying from brain trauma. Which should be easy enough, I mean, it's not like it could happen instantly-"

"James, you're babbling again."

"Sorry Lily. Anyway, your mum, myself, and some old friends and relatives will be taking turns watching over you."

"How will being in a trance 24/7 help me exactly?"

"Oh, we won't put you in a trance. We'll just be in your head, kinda like your...whatchamacallit...subconcious."

Because that's so much better. Well, if it's that or die...

"And it's only until you master your powers enough to keep the evil ones out. And, knowing your determination, it shouldn't take that long."

"Okay, I guess I can live with that. Just no waking me up in the middle of the night."

Dad snaps his fingers in mock dissapointment and Mum punches him. I laugh. Maybe this won't be so bad after all.

"Ready to return to the land of the living?" Dad asks, holding out his hand.

"Ready as I'll ever be," I reply, taking it.

We're suddenly flying through a dark tunnel and I yelp as I crash through a barrier painfully. Every inch of me starts tingling, like when your foot falls asleep when you keep it in one posistion for too long.

I snap open my eyes, gasping in air, feeling like I did after almost drowning in the second task. Or at The School, whichever you prefer.

It's then when I notice three things.

1) Madame Pomfrey is standing next to me, holding a bloodstained shirt.

2) Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Dumbledore are all with her.

3) They're staring at my wings.

Uh-oh.

Madame Pomfrey blinks once, twice. She then sprints over to the potions cabinet, grabs several vials, runs back over to me, and practically shoves the foul tasting liquids down my throat before I can even say 'hello.' The pain in my stomach and overall dizzyness drops signifigantly. She then places the vials on my bedside, puts her hands on her hips and speaks.

"I am sure, Mr. Potter, that we would all like to know; how are you alive and why, exactly, do you have wings?"

Not good.

"Oh, and why do you have that weird tattoo on your arm?"

Really, really not good.

A/N: What, you actually thought I'd let Harry die now? That would end the fic way to quickly! Anyway, see you next time!

-Winged Quill!