As Harry made his way to the dormitory those he passed got quickly out of his way and Harry could feel the eyes of everyone on him as he walked. Out of the corner of his vision he saw several first years whose mouths fell open upon seeing his face. Harry ignored them and continued walking until he was stopped by an incredulous shout-

"THAT'S HARRY POTTER!-the boy who killed "You Know Who"!"

Harry turned, suddenly seized by anger, "At least call him by his REAL name now that he's dead! Tom Riddle-he holds no power over anyone anymore!"

He didn't know if he was trying to convince the students or himself with that last bit.

Those in the hallway were beginning to form a crowd; they stopped and looked at him, perhaps waiting to see what the "Great Harry Potter" would say next?

The younger students stood stock still, trembling with a palpable fear. Were they...afraid of him? Harry felt guilty for a moment, then-

Good. Let them be afraid. Maybe then they'll leave me alone.

He continued walking and didn't stop again until he reached the Fat Lady. She beamed at him and opened without a word. Typical. Harry sat down on the bed with a sigh.

Is that what he was to be known as now? The one who killed Voldemort?Technically it had been sheer luck that had done Riddle in; he had been counting on the Elder Wand not striking him down, and it had worked out perfectly. But even though he had not fired the curse, he had just as well done the deed directly.

It was all exhausting to even think about. He'd hash it all out in the morning, when things were clearer. He was absolutely dreading the memorial. Harry pulled back the covers of the four poster and climbed in without changing out of his clothing. He was far too tired to sort all that out. As he lay his head down, he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder. Something bumpy was under him, a pebble or something-

An owl treat.

Harry's eyes watered so much that he couldn't even see the offending treat anymore. He held it in the palm of his hand, wishing that a certain owl would come and take it, nibbling a finger or two affectionately...

Harry didn't know how long he sat there, staring at but not actually seeing the owl treat, clenching and unclenching his hands. Taking a deep shuddering breath, he set down the food on his bedside table.

Can'tthinkaboutthisnow-can'tcan'tcan't-

Harry lay back down atop his covers and reluctantly closed his eyes. He was doubtful that he would get any sleep tonight, and he wasn't sure he really wanted to because in all likelihood that he would have very, very bad dreams. Harry wasn't sure when it happened, but he must have drifted off because he soon found himself facing off against Voldemort in Hogwarts again.

There were bodies strewn throughout the Great Hall. Harry stood over Ron and Hermione's motionless bodies, the Elder wand held loosely in his hand. A soft hiss came from behind him,

"Wonderful, Harry. Just like me..."

"NO!" Harry shouted and threw himself at the laughing Dark Lord. A fist slammed into the misshapen man's face. Then another, then another-

"I'M NOTHING LIKE YOU! YOU'RE A MONSTER!" bellowed Harry, shaking as he continued hitting his nemesis.

Voldemort chuckled in between blows, "You are like me in more ways then you think, boy...It's only a matter of time-"

Another fist quickly silenced him. There was no stopping Harry now. All his anger, his fears, which for the longest time had been festering inside him were now free-

Harry paused in his punches; Tom Riddle lay broken and bleeding on the ground. Harry looked down at his shaking hands. They were covered in blood. He took a step back.

He stumbled. Something was coating the floor, what was it? Harry glanced down and gasped.

What have I done-

The floor was slick with the blood of his friends, his family-

Harry fell to his knees and sobbed. "They're all dead because of me!"

I killed them all...my fault...

my fault...

He woke to a sodden pillowcase and stiff muscles. Harry looked around the dormitory. The other boys were still asleep, so he was luckily able to wash his face without having to talk to anyone about his restless sleep. He was about to go down to the Common room but then with a jolt he remembered what today was-

The memorial. Damn.

Whatever calm he may have begun to feel that morning after his dream was now drifting away...

Well, there hadn't been much calm to begin with, he conceded inwardly.

Just wanted to get this brief chapter out while I work on the memorial. Reviewers will be gifted with a virtual miniature Severus Snape that says "I love you" in a sarcastic tone when you squeeze him.