[HP] End of Death

Draco felt like he had a long, long dream.It was too long and frighteningly clear, and he felt that he was almost sinking into the familiar memory and couldn't extricate himself.

In his dream, he relived their best time. At that time, they did not deceive and hurt, and they had not yet touched the cruelty of reality, so they were deeply immersed in the young and crazy love and forgot themselves.Sometimes he feels that he can hardly remember their original appearance, but sometimes he feels that he is just sailing across the ocean in a boat, and the other end of the boat is still tied to the original shore.

He didn't know why Harry wasn't dead.That's when he saw the green light hit him.He fell, into the dark sea.

He should be dead, but if he died, what happened to that dream...?

Harry's consciousness was clearly alive in that dream.At first they were walking together at King's Cross Station, but then Voldemort suddenly appeared and pulled them into another dream...in the dream he was Mr. Fickett, a stranger who had nothing to do with Harry.He tried his best to get rid of Voldemort's deception, but he could not violate the rules of this dream and be discovered by Voldemort.

Fortunately, Harry finally found out that it was a false dream, which declared that Voldemort's plot had failed.

Draco opened his eyes and sat up slowly.Surrounded by snow-white hospital beds, some of them had people lying on them, while others were empty.The wind blows in through the long open windows, and the crimson curtain expands in the air into a translucent arc of a balloon, then dries up again, like jellyfish undulating in the deep sea.

He saw Bill of the Order of the Phoenix lying on the bed eating a very tender veal steak, Mrs Weasley and Fleur, whom he met during the Triwizard Tournament, were sitting on the edge of the bed chatting with him; It was Sirius, who was still unconscious under some spell, and Lupine was leaning on the back of the chair next to him, peeling an apple.

Draco turned back, staring blankly at the ceiling again.He suddenly realized that he was now a traitor among the Death Eaters, but this did not mean that the members of the Order of the Phoenix were his companions, because no one could prove his betrayal except Harry.

By the way, what about Harry...?

"Oh, Malfoy, you're finally awake." A shrill voice rang in his ears, and Madam Pomfrey walked to him while taking off her dragon leather gloves. She seemed to have just scratched the wound for Bill who was bitten by a werewolf After applying the ointment on his face, "Let me see, do you feel better now? You've been in a coma all day—" She grabbed Draco's arm involuntarily, rolled up his wide sleeves, and looked at him pale Pressing on his skin, "I have to give you a comprehensive neurological examination, in case anything goes wrong..."

Draco had to let Madam Pomfrey toss for a while, during which he kept looking for opportunities to ask questions, but was interrupted by her, which made him a little irritable.

"I wonder what's going on now—"

"Lie down and have a good rest, your mental state is not very good, child!" Madam Pomfrey shook her head exaggeratedly, and strode away with a plate.

Draco stared back at her, and for a moment he wanted to swear, but he held back.He looked at the people next to him, and they seemed to be looking at him with pity, which made him even more upset.

But his heart soon calmed down.Because he heard the phoenix dirge.

He looked out of the window, there was nothing there, but the melodious and sad singing echoed throughout the castle, like a warm and slow river, flowing through the whole body along the vein-thin veins.

He turned sideways and looked out of the dark window, listening to the singing that only appeared in legends.Its tune is so sad and tactful, but he feels as if he has been soothed, and his whole soul has been washed.

He closed his eyes.

Draco left the school hospital the next day.

All classes are suspended and all exams postponed.Many students were hastily taken away from school by their parents on the day he was unconscious, and when he went to the auditorium alone for breakfast in the morning, he could still see Parvati's twin sisters dragging their suitcases and following their parents to leave in a hurry.

Draco sat down at the Slytherin table, his face was frighteningly pale, and his gloomy expression made the students around him afraid to approach him.But that's fine, he doesn't want to talk to them anyway.

He glanced subconsciously towards the Gryffindor table, where Seamus Finnigan was arguing with his mother, and Ron, Hermione, and Neville were sitting discussing something.He didn't see the familiar figure, and his heart sank, as if a heavy piece of metal had fallen into his stomach.

Draco quickly turned his gaze to the teacher's seat.He found the person he wanted to see in no time - he put down his knife and fork, pushed aside his chair rudely and ran to her, who was talking to the tall Hagrid, who turned his head when he heard his hurried footsteps, his face The expression on the face is a little confused.

"Malfoy?" Professor McGonagall raised his eyebrows, "Have you come out of the hospital yet?"

"I have one thing to ask of you, Professor McGonagall," he said out of breath. "Excuse—where is Professor Dumbledore?"

Professor McGonagall stared at him, and the expression on his face gradually became strange: "Maybe you don't know, Malfoy, Professor Dumbledore has-has passed away, and his funeral will be held soon-"

"It can't be held yet!" Draco said anxiously, his volume was a bit high, and Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout next to him covered their mouths, and he quickly lowered his voice, "Sorry, I mean Yes, Professor Dumbledore has something important, very important, and cannot be buried with him—”

"Oh, what's that?"

He opened his mouth, but found that he couldn't describe it at all.It was a Horcrux, but he had no idea what it looked like, and he couldn't tell her directly.In fact Dumbledore obviously hoped that as few people as possible knew about it, the better.

"I - um - it should be in Professor Dumbledore's pocket."

Professor McGonagall stared at him for a while, then shook his head: "Sorry, Malfoy, I'm afraid I can't help you."

"It's true what I say, Professor! That's really important—"

"I'm sure of that, but there's nothing in Professor Dumbledore's pockets. We checked before the burial, and they were all empty."

Draco's face flushed as if he was choking, and he couldn't speak.Professor McGonagall sighed, consoling him only as if he was overstimulated.The boy didn't say a word, and returned to his seat in a daze alone, silent.

He scooped up a few mouthfuls of pumpkin porridge, pushed the plate aside, stared dumbly at the wall column with intricate patterns on the other side, and unconsciously outlined the mountain-like patterns on it.The auditorium became noisy, more and more students and parents flocked to sit aside, and the air was filled with mournful murmurs.Professor McGonagall stood up, and the voices quickly fell silent.

"It's almost time," she said, "follow your headmaster to the grounds. The Gryffindors follow me."

They came out from behind the benches in a single file, hardly making a sound.Draco saw Slughorn standing at the head of the Slytherin line, in rich emerald green robes embroidered with silver thread.He lowered his eyes.

They walked across the sparkling lake to where the grass was lined with hundreds of chairs.Half the chairs were already filled with various people, some people Draco knew, but most were new faces.

Draco sat silently in the back row of chairs.He didn't know if he should be here, he was one of the murderers who caused Dumbledore's death, he should be attacked by all the people here-but now he is sitting here, joining them in a moment of silence for the old man.

Dumbledore is dead.He stared blankly as Hagrid walked down the middle aisle with his body in his arms.He was dead, collapsed, and the thought had never been more clear in his mind.he died.

For many reasons, Draco used to hate Dumbledore very much, and he would often laugh at his decisions in front of his friends, mocking him as an old-fashioned, Muggle-loving weirdo.But now he can't tell what it feels like in his heart, it's like a piece has been dug out, it doesn't hurt, but when he touches it, he doesn't know where it comes from, it's dead silent.

A small man in a black suit stood on the stage and gave a dull speech.There was a movement in the Forbidden Forest, and the horsemen also came to express their condolences. They didn't come to the open space, but stood in the shadow of the trees and watched them quietly.

Draco finally felt unbearable in the bright sunshine.He buried himself low, blocking all sound with his hands.