The Tragedy of Harry Potter

Title: The Tragedy of Harry Potter

Author: Loki Tarien

Summary: Harry's a wreck. He drinks, smokes, and has way too many pills. If only he knew what happened after he left. Meets a mysterious man in a bar and spills his sob story. Who is this man!? WARNING: char death R&R please!

Rating: R

Pairing: implied Harry/Snape, possible Harry/Draco

Feedback: Greatly desired. ^_^ thanx!

Characters: Harry (duh) and Severus mostly. Mentions of the rest of the Hogwarts school...K? =P

Betas: originally, Linwe-chan, though I re-did this a bit w/o a beta...

Author's Note: This was originally written before Half Blood Prince, and I don't want to change anything.

Disclaimer: Not making any money off of this, nor am I the true owner (that would be the wonderfully talented JK Rowling) of the characters involved. Unless of course you don't recognize them, in which case, they would be mine. ^_^


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-I-

One would think that after six years, five hundred seventy three visits to St. Mungo's and enough pills to kill even the healthiest man alive would be enough time to move on. But said one is wrong. Oh so very wrong. Moving on seemed to not want to happen to Harry. In fact, as he saw it, it gave up on him so in return he had given up all hope in trying to move on. In his mind, there was nothing worth moving on for, or to for that matter.

Harry had left his pathetic excuse of a living space in the bustling city of London as soon as he was released from St. Mungo's for what the medi-witches hoped was the last time. "Boy-Who-Lived" and "Boy-Who-Killed-Voldemort" or not, Harry Potter had become a wreck and a shell of his former self. Drinking in excess and smoking like there was no tomorrow had become a habit for the twenty-three year old wizard. And those weren't the kinds of habits he was exceedingly proud of.

Every witch and wizard Harry had once thought of as a friend had cut themselves off from him, thinking he was a worthless waste of time. Not that he blamed them really; he didn't want to hang out with himself half - no, all the time. Quite a depressing existence, but it wasn't the fact that his earlier friends had deserted him that bothered him so much. It wasn't the total and complete suddenness in which the Wizarding World had turned away from its savior. Nor was it the lack of an enemy bent on killing him at every turn.

Voldemort was dead; as were the majority of the Death Eaters and their families. And those who weren't dead yet, were rotting away in misery in the confines of Azkaban. But more than that, his school-time nemesis, Draco Malfoy, was on the Missing Persons list. And to Harry, that single fact alone gnawed at him; tearing flesh from muscle, muscle from bone; his sanity from his mind, his soul and heart from his body. That fact alone had destroyed the greatest wizard alive. That simple, single fact had made Harry what he was now.

-II-

Harry sat at the bar in a club, one hand holding the lit cigarette, the other wiping the water droplet off the outside of his carafe of firewhiskey. Clad in form-fitting denim jeans (a deep blue color) and a form-fitting white tank top with a pair of worn-in Nike sneakers, he cut out quite an image. His once richly bronzed skin which was considerably pale and sickly in hue, was glowing from both too much to drink and heartless - highly tasteless - dancing out on the floor. Both his arms sported snake-like tattoos that coiled around his very toned upper arms. His six-pack was visible through the skin-tight and sweat-soaked shirt, and his long legs were put to the test in the tight jeans his wore. In both his ears two small silver hoops glistened in the light.

His unruly raven black hair, now much longer and not as unkempt as it used to be, was pulled into a loose pony-tail at the nape of his neck, pieces hanging limply in front of his eyes. He had ditched his glasses, finally deciding it was due time to move away from them, and had gotten correctional surgery on his eyes. Speaking of which, his once vibrant green eyes had dulled to the lifeless, bland shade of a dirt-covered semi-precious stone no longer worth keeping. And his trademark lightning bolt scar, well, his bangs finally caved in and cooperated quite nicely to hide the disgusting mark, not that anyone looked for it anyway.

Never the less, he was still a very attractive (though he never felt that way) man, even if he was technically ill and the drinking and smoking weren't helping his condition one bit. In fact, he had caught the interest of several young ladies and the grazing eye of more than a few gentlemen. He always shrugged them off however; he felt he didn't deserve them and that they were worth so much more than he was able to give. That and he felt he was betraying a dead man. Needless to say, that untouchable, unmovable reaction made him more desirable to everyone who wanted him.

The beat of the Indian/Techno Remix pulsed through him, and everyone else in the popular club. For whatever reason, 'probably the alcohol intake,' he countered silently, he couldn't remember the name of the place. Nor could he remember the bartender's name, though the young man had been staring unabashedly at him from every location across the bar. And the drink's name... now that was bothering Harry quite a lot. His finished his current carafe and wanted more but couldn't remember what it was he was drinking.

He might have, at one point in his life before everything he knew, trusted, and believed had betrayed him in some fashion or another, stopped at this point. However, his burning need to drown his pain in alcohol, that by now was slowly tearing his body apart from within, was too great. His head swam with disheartened thoughts of what he could have done to make the people forgive him but even the best of ideas seemed moot and unworthy of his time. Even now he wondered what death would be like. He was, at the time of war, prepared to give his life to the cause, more so if it meant that Voldemort would fall with him. He was all too prepared to die for those he fought for.

He glanced blearily down the length of the bar until he caught the attention of the bartender who immediately skipped down to where he was sitting. "Aye sir? Can I get ya anotha firewhiskey sir?" The young man smiled brightly, his blue eyes twinkling madly. Harry just nodded as he forced images of Dumbledore out of his head. Another firewhiskey appeared in front of him and the young man propped his elbows on the counter. "Ya know sir, and do be beggin' my pardon on this sir, but you've just had 'bout fifteen flagons o' firewhiskey! Thar somethin' ya tryin' to ferget? Ya know sir, ya can talk to me if ya like." He beamed at Harry, unaware that his entire speech had been ignored by the miserable wizard in front of him. "Or not sir, jus' offerin'." He shrugged and shuffled down the counter to help another patron.

Harry stared at the flagon in his hand. "Fifteen," he murmured and proceeded to down the fiery liquid. Out of the corner of his eye he registered that someone was sitting down next to him. Harry swallowed the liquid and placed the carafe on the counter, content to stare at the remains for a good long while. The person next to him shifted and caught the bartender's attention, asking for a firewhiskey. Harry watched the black fabric of the robe shift as the person moved around on his stool. The bartender returned with the drink before shuffling back to grab a glass of water.

"He is right," a soft voice commented. Oddly enough the voice penetrated a cord deep within Harry's memory. It was as if he knew the person sitting next to him. Harry shifted his gaze until it was able to take in the person next to him. He was sitting straight-backed, his black hair shining with what Harry thought to be grease. From his profile alone Harry was able to recognize the hooked nose and the hard set cold black eyes. The man spoke again. "The bartender I mean, he's right. You seem to be drowning out a pain that won't go away." His voice was becoming clearer and clearer to Harry's alcohol-ridden mind.

"Why do you care?" Harry grunted and placed his head on his folded arms, facing the not-so-strange stranger sitting next to him. It was the first time, in a long time, that a wizard actually spoke directly to him, regarding his current state.

The man placed his barely touched drink on the counter and turned to face Harry, his black eyes searching Harry's face. "Because I do, and that fact alone will be enough to satisfy your craving for an answer." His voice, though still soft, was cold and degrading, reminding Harry of his days at school. Images of a dungeon classroom with acrid smells and constant ridicule danced drunkenly in his mind. "You know, a man of your build should not drink fifteen firewhiskeys. That makes it obvious the man has a death wish," the man continued, his piercing gaze softening as he locked eyes with Harry.

"You know, I honestly think I do have a death wish." Harry chuckled madly and broke the connection the man made as he closed his eyes. "I mean, you would too if the world turned its back on you. You put your life on the line to save their asses and they repay you by..." Harry snorted. "Wait, they don't repay you. They don't even say thanks. They just read you the dead count and tell you who died." Harry tightened his features as memories flooded his mind. Hermione Granger, the Weasley's, the Longbottoms, Draco Malfoy... the list continued behind his closed eyes.

"That explains why you drink to ease the pain. But need I remind you, drinking is not the best way to die. You could just as easily cast a killing curse upon yourself. I'm sure, if what you say is true, that no one would miss you. Plus it would be less painful in the morning." The man took a sip of his drink, all the while keeping his gaze on Harry.

"That would be great. But there's the problem of my wand being destroyed after the war for using a killing curse. I was thought to become the next Dark Lord because of it. That and St. Mungo's would simply find a way to revive me." Harry chuckled humorlessly and looked at the man. "But believe me, I have tried. For six years I've tried. Drugs, alcohol, freak crash accidents, I've tried cutting myself, stabbing myself, everything. I would have stolen a wand but the Ministry has put a bind on my magic, so even if I wanted to cast a spell I can't."

"I see," the man closed his eyes and bowed his head in thought. It wasn't that he couldn't believe the story he had heard, he believed it all too well. He had heard that Harry's wand was destroyed and that the Ministry had put a powerful bind on Harry's magic. He knew that Harry was committed, released, committed, and released numerous times throughout the past six years. He knew the whole story, which was how he was able to find him now. He needed to know for himself what was going on in Harry's mind. He felt it was his duty to put the young man at ease, even if that required him to kill the wizard.

"Can you really see?" Harry stared at the man before him. "Can you begin to imagine what I have been through? Can you? Can..." Harry choked as a sob racked his unhealthy body. "I tried so hard to help them..." Tears slid freely from Harry's shimmering eyes, making them appear more alive than they had been in years. "So... hard... and they still hated me..." Harry buried his face in his arms, hiding himself from the man sitting next to him and the rest of the patrons at the club. He hadn't let himself cry. He wouldn't allow himself to cry. And here he was, sobbing at a bar, in a club, with a stranger sitting next to him, witnessing the breakdown of an already broken man.

The man watched. He knew exactly how Harry was feeling. More than Harry would ever know. And watching this once magnificent man before him crumble like this was tearing the man apart as he knew he could do nothing that would really help him. 'I could,' he thought, 'tell him who I am but he would probably deny that.' The man sighed and placed a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder, hoping that Harry would accept the small bit of condolence he was offering.

"I just wish..." Harry sniffled and looked back at the man. "I just wish he was here. If someone was still alive you know?" Harry fiercely brushed away the tears that clung to his eyelashes. "I'd do anything just to know that not everyone in that world resented me. I want to tell him I'm sorry." Harry sat up and sniffled some more, tears still slipping down his face. "I want someone to take me back." Harry laughed, forcibly. "My old Potions professor would get a kick out of seeing me like this. The wreck of a wizard he always thought me to be." Harry started to laugh again only for the sobs to choke him up once more.

The man's eyebrows shot into his hairline. 'Does he not recognize me then?' He watched Harry closer, trying to figure out how badly Harry had destroyed himself in the six years since the war. "Now why do you say that? What makes you think he would enjoy seeing one of his pupils so utterly broken like this?"

Harry turned to face the stranger and locked eyes with him. "Because he hated me with such a passion that he would do anything in his power to make sure I knew his hatred for me. I learned, albeit by mistake, that the only reason he hated me so much was because of my father but... even after that he still made life miserable for me. It would only make sense for him to enjoy knowing that his favorite Gryffindor was bawling at a club." Harry lowered his gaze. "I'd like to apologize to him, too, though. I wonder if he's still alive. His name was on the Missing Persons list after the war."

'That's right. I was. I slipped away after I knew Voldemort was dead and gone forever. But Harry, why apologize to me?' Severus sighed and tried to get Harry to say more. "I think everyone has been found that was on that list. It has been..."

"Six years, I know," Harry looked sadly at Severus, not being able to recall who he was. "Do you know him? Severus Snape? He was my professor. He... I should have told him. I should have... studied harder. I should have..." Harry bit his lip to refrain from crying again.

"As a matter of fact I do. And he is alive. Still at Hogwarts as a matter of fact, teaching Potions and assisting the new Defense Against Dark Arts professor to get a hold of things. The fool is still young and doesn't know how to handle the class. Matter of fact, he only just graduated from the school himself about two years previous. The headmistress is a bit flustered in trying to find someone to fill in that position." Severus looked at Harry, noticing for the first time that he had stopped crying and was staring at him.

"Do you work there? Who's the headmistress? Did Dumbledore pass away? Who has the DADA position?" Harry's eyes sparkled with unshed tears, but for the first time in a long time he was finally getting his questions answered.

"Yes, I do actually. The headmistress is Minerva McGonagall; a brilliant woman. No, Dumbledore didn't pass away. He was carted off to Azkaban for charges against the minister, Cornelius Fudge. And a former student, Alan Friedhurtz, has the DADA position. He was a great student though the current students don't treat him as their professor but rather as their best friend." Severus smiled, and watched Harry's face.

"A former Hufflepuff student, yes?" Harry stared again at the man next to him, trying to place him.

"Yes, a very smart Hufflepuff. Could have been in Ravenclaw with all the brains he has. Regardless," Severus paused and took another sip of firewhiskey. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Harry's eyes widen as something clicked. 'Shit, he figured out who he was talking to.'

"So you are well connected in the Wizarding world?" A flicker of hope flashed in Harry's eyes.

"I would say so, why do you ask?"

"Draco Malfoy. Is he really dead?"

'Why is he asking about Draco?' Severus pondered. He knew very well that Draco had escaped with him, and was currently living at Snape manor when he wasn't working at the school as the Transfigurations professor. 'But Harry was told Draco was dead. Why?' "I... am not sure." Severus gulped; he couldn't tell Harry the truth. 'If Harry found out that Draco was alive after believing that for the past six years he was dead...'

"That's alright. He was elusive. A true snake, it;s not necessary to find out if he's alive or not. I could just as easily find out... actually, no I can't." Harry's voice faded; his alcohol-induced blurry vision locking on the flashing lights ghosting over the packed dance floor. Severus watched Harry for a little while longer, trying to word what he wanted to say. He opened his mouth to say something but Harry beat him to it. "Say, thanks for talking to me, or listening to me complain." A faint smile graced Harry's pale features.

Severus nodded, at a loss for what to say for that was not what he expected. "No problem. You looked as though you could do with getting a few things off your chest." Severus noticed how the smile tried to reach Harry's eyes but for one reason or another couldn't. He also noticed that he truly wished to ease Harry's pain. And if he didn't need to repeat it to anyone else he would admit to himself that he missed the younger version of the man next to him; the version who smiled and laughed and clearly loved life. 'Sweet Merlin, I actually miss Harry Potter.' Severus stared wide-eyed at Harry. 'Definitely, I miss the old Harry Potter.' He shook his head.

Harry missed this revelation in his talking companion as his mind floated in a firewhiskey river. He also missed his partner's staring which in a way is a good thing. He watched the rainbow of lights zigzag around the dancers on the floor. He could collapse and die right here and know that Severus Snape was still alive. If only he knew about Draco... Harry's thoughts drowned in his befuddled head and he blissfully let them, without a care in the world.

"Say, why don't we head out of here? You seem a bit tipsy. I could make sure you get home alright..." Severus grimaced internally at how maternal he sounded. 'Draco'll get a laugh outta this one,' he thought. But as he looked back at Harry he noticed Harry was still watching the dance floor. 'Well, I can't very well say his name, now can I?'

"That would be nice." Harry left a myriad of coins, both Wizard money and Muggle money, and rose from the stool. He shifted his gaze around trying to locate the jacket he didn't bring with him. Giving up, he staggered towards the door. 'Perhaps one firewhiskey too many, really should have stopped earlier. Nice guy... I should find out who he is.' Harry rambled as the waves disturbed his otherwise peacefully calm alcohol lagoon inside his mind.

Severus followed suit, though leaving Wizard money on the counter, and followed his drunken companion. He truly had no intent of bringing Harry back to wherever he lived but rather back to Hogwarts. 'He will be safe there. And he will be back in familiar surroundings, with people he knows.' He nodded to the bartender, who saluted half-drunkenly apparently under the influence while trying to keep the surrounding patrons laughing themselves silly. Once outside he turned and caught a falling Harry under the crook of his arm. "Where to my friend?"

Harry glanced up at first to his arm, then, to the hand holding his arm, then finally to the face of the man that hand belonged to. For a brief moment everything snapped into focus and the name Severus Snape rang clearly through his mind. But just as quickly everything fell back into an unpleasant state of drunkenness and he stumbled as he tried to right himself. "You'll never believe this, but I just had the craziest idea in my head." He laughed as Severus helped him stand properly.

"I doubt that, but what is this crazy idea of yours?" Severus asked in what he hoped would be a voice that could possibly jar Harry's memory into remembering him. He watched Harry's face for a reaction and thought Harry actually did remember him.

Harry's face contorted as he stared at his assistant. "Don't do that! You make me think I'm crazier than I already am." Harry yanked himself free of Severus' grip and stumbled forward a few steps before spinning to face him. "Merlin, now that I see you standing up you really do strike an amazing resemblance to him." Harry coughed and rushed to lean against the side of the building. No more gently flowing river, just wave after wave of nausea. He waved a hand at Severus, begging for help.

Severus walked over and grabbed the flailing hand while placed his other hand on Harry's back, trying to calm him. "Now, who is it I resemble?"

"Snape." Harry leaned his head against the stone wall, tears sliding down his face. "You remind me of my old professor, Severus Snape. The one I told you about... I think..." Harry choked on a sob. "Even if you aren't him, you work at Hogwarts with him, right?" Harry turned his head so he was three inches away from kissing Severus.

'Merlin, Harry, move your face!' Severus closed his eyes and spoke softly. "Yes. But why, how do I remind you of him?" 'I will get to the bottom of this.'

"Just how you look I guess, and how you said a few things. Sounded just like him. I could be wrong. I probably am wrong." Harry slacked against the wall and his ability to remain standing on his own started to slip from his grasp. He felt himself falling. 'Gods my head hurts.'

"And what if you weren't wrong?" Severus pulled Harry back onto his feet and supported him with the aid of the wall.

Harry just looked at him lazily. "If you were really Severus..." Harry leaned up and closed the gap between his and Severus' lips. He slowly kissed the man in front of him, then, slipped back against the wall, his head thudding quietly against the bricks. "...I would do that. I've always wanted to do that." A lazy though content smile appeared on his streetlamp lit face.

Severus blinked a few times. 'I was just kissed by a man. Scratch that, I was just kissed by a drunken man.' He shook his head. 'I was just kissed by a drunken Harry Potter who doesn't even realize that he kissed me!' Severus lowered his head and sighed heavily. "And if I wasn't?"

Harry blinked once... twice... thrice... then leaned up and kissed him a second time. The second kiss, however, proceeded well past the first. Harry wrapped his arms around Severus' neck and pulled him closer so Harry was leaning against the wall. He licked Severus' lips, teasing them open before delving deeper into the willing mouth. He would have begun a full-out intensive exploration but the urge to breathe ripped through them, causing both men to separate and take in a lungful of air. "I would do that. 'Cause if you were Severus, I wouldn't be here."

"Why do you say that?" Severus questioned, though he had the feeling he already knew the answer. 'For the sweet love of Merlin, Harry Potter is practically raping my mouth!' Severus shook his head but determined that he rather enjoyed the kiss and would willingly fall victim to another.

"He'd have hexed me to my death. And at the current state I'm in..." Harry chuckled and the mirth sounded genuine. "You smell like him, too... earthy. I guess that would have come from dealing with potions all day long, huh?" Harry's eyes crossed and he slumped further down the wall, his body slowly beginning to collapse on him. "Hey, would you mind getting me home? It's just down the next block. The house on the corner; you can't miss it?" Harry's eyes closed and his head fell forward. In less time it took for Severus to react, Harry was sliding down the wall, unconscious.

"I guess I have no choice, do I?" Severus smiled and scooped up the shell of his former student. "Not that I truly mind, mind you, though I would honestly rather have you back in Hogwarts where you can be taken care of properly. I'm sure Minerva would do what it took to make sure you received only the best care she could get. I would be more than willing to see you through to a full recovery." Severus talked softly to the young man in his arms, uncaring that he might possibly hear him. "And the Wizarding World would welcome you back with open arms, have no doubt. Fudge'll be dealt with. That bind will be removed. As for a wand... well, we'll get there when we get there."

He continued talking about the possible future if Harry would return to Hogwarts as he walked to the house. He reached the front door and paused as he realized he would have to somehow maneuver Harry around so he could open the door. As he lowered Harry's legs, Harry mumbled something that sounded an awful lot like, "I love you..." Severus bit his lip and fished out his wand as he propped Harry against the front of the house, using his own body to keep him there. The door flung open revealing a practically empty entranceway, the only thing there was a snowy owl perched on a table, hooting softly at the intrusion.

"Sorry Hedwig," Severus whispered. The owl ruffled her feathers but sat still, not sure why there was another wizard in the house who knew her name. All the same she waited until Severus had shuffled inside with the unconscious Harry before lifting into the air and guiding him to the bedroom. "Thank you," he whispered as Hedwig perched on the headboard. He lowered Harry onto the bed and then sat next to him. He brushed the hair away from Harry's eyes, revealing the scar that everyone stared at. It had been a challenge locating him but Severus was convinced it was him without even seeing the obtrusive scar.

Harry shifted and opened his eyes, staring at Severus. "Thanks..." he whispered, catching Severus off-guard and causing him to pull his hand away with a start. "Don' stop. Please... no-one's ever..." He closed his eyes again and his head lolled to the side. Severus returned to gently running his fingers through Harry's over-grown bangs. A smile slipped back onto Harry's face. "If you see him... tell him I'm sorry?" Harry's voice became quieter, making Severus strain to hear him.

"Of course, though why are you sorry? You saved the Wizarding World did you not?" Severus couldn't figure out why Harry was apologizing to him. 'If it has to do with the pensieve, I had forgiven him a long time ago, what could he be sorry for?'

"So you know who I am?" Harry chuckled but grimaced after he realized that laughing and headaches do not mix. "Regardless," he opened his eyes and searched for eye-contact with Severus. "...for everything. Being my father's son, the pensieve, even giving him a hard time about Occlumency; everything." In the back of Harry's mind he knew that he was in fact telling Severus this himself but felt he should let the disillusionment of being drunk carry him away.

"I... I am sure he forgave you for all that the moment you proved yourself a worthy student. Didn't he?" Severus racked his memory to figure out if he had in fact told Harry he was forgiven back in school. He grimaced when he realized he hadn't.

"Hn... just..." Harry groaned and broke the connection. "...tell him again for me..." Hedwig hooted softly from her perch, knowing that Harry was struggling to stay awake.

Severus nodded gently to Hedwig. "Perhaps I should go; let you get some well-deserved rest, hmm?" He pulled his hand away and made to get up. Harry watched from a single open eye. Severus smiled and stood completely. "You get your rest, and perhaps you'll come to Hogwarts and tell him yourself. I'm sure he would appreciate hearing those words from your own mouth." 'I did. And you're forgiven.'

But Harry had already drifted to sleep, fully clothed and in a very uncomfortable position. Severus sighed and bent to remove Harry's shoes. He glanced at Hedwig when he moved his hands to remove the jeans. "Should I?" Hedwig merely hooted but her eyes told him to leave it. Severus nodded and pulled the blanket out from under Harry, covering him carefully. He repositioned his head on the pillows before bending over once again and kissing Harry's forehead. "So you know Harry, you are always welcome in the Wizarding World. Always welcome at Hogwarts." Severus nodded once more to Hedwig before leaving the house and making his way back to Hogwarts.

Hedwig left her perch and landed softly on the bed next to Harry. He murmured quietly in his sleep. "Goo' bye Severus... I 'ove you..."

-III-

Severus made his way up to the Great Hall for breakfast, his mind returning over and over to the kisses Harry had given him the night before. 'I bet he has no idea it was really me,' he thought as he took his next to the left of the headmistress nodding to her as he sat down.

"G'morning, Sev!" Draco grinned on his left, and Severus nodded, trying to tell himself that Harry was better off not knowing the truth just yet. "Where did you vanish to last night? I was looking for ya!"

"I went... out. Was it important?" Severus reached for the pitcher of pumpkin juice and poured himself a glass before doing the same involuntarily for Draco.

"Thanks, and no it wasn't all too important. So where did you go?" Draco asked again as he reached to take a sip of his drink.

"None of your business." Severus went about his meal, ignoring his chipper godson and the boring conversation the headmistress was having with Professor Sprout. About halfway through the meal a flurry of owls dropped in with the morning post. Severus heard a gasp on both sides of him and reacted to both only once Draco had jabbed him in the side. "WHAT?!"

"Sev... isn't that...?" Draco hissed and pointed at an owl that had perched in front of Severus.

Severus glanced from Draco to the owl and dropped his fork. A snowy owl sat in front of him, looking for all the world like she had lost her best friend in the world. Severus reached out a shaking arm onto which Hedwig leapt up onto. He pulled his arm back and removed the paper from her beak; it was a copy of the 'Daily Prophet.' He opened it and read the headline, "Harry Potter, 'Boy-Who-Lived,' Now Dead." Next to him Draco choked and ripped the paper from his frozen hands. Throughout the hall there were screams of "NO!" and wails coming from every table.

Severus excused himself from the table and quickly exited the room, his robes billowing behind him like always. On his shoulder, Hedwig sat just as upset as the Potions Master. "I should have brought him back with me. I should have done something, Hedwig. I was there. I could have done something." He let himself into his classroom and slipped into the private study in the back. Hedwig nipped his ear gently and hooted softly. "You're right. I did the best thing anyone could have done. I listened and made him as comfortable as possible. I was there when he needed someone." Hedwig hooted again and nipped his ear before resettling herself in his lap. She looked up at him, cocked her head and hooted.

Through the silent tears the Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry smiled and nodded. And the snowy owl hooted happily despite her own sadness. In the Great Hall numerous students cried about the loss of the greatest wizard of all and the Transfigurations professor sat frozen in his seat, tears slipping unchecked down his cheeks. And the Wizarding World mourned the loss of its savior.

-IV-

On page seven of the same issue of the 'Daily Prophet,' in the lower right hand corner was a tiny article saying that Albus Dumbledore had finally cracked and was found dead this morning in his cell in Azkaban. It was said that he had reached through the bars and kissed the patrolling Dementor. But no one cared about that bit of news.

-END?-