After The End

1 - What The..?

{ Hey, author here. I started this story when I was 14 or something, idk I can't remember, and as I'm writing this I'm now 16. I thought it would be funny to re read these few chapters I posted a couple years ago just to laugh at my writing, but I didn't expect it to be good? Anyway it inspired me to re visit this story, so I'm gonna be changing things. Originally this was in 1st person POV and would switch from Draco to Harry every few chapters, but now I think that's stupid so it's gonna be 3rd person Harry's POV. Get over it? So yeah I'm 16, obviously not a perfect writer, but I'm learning. Let me know in the comments if I get anything wrong, and message me if you're bored! }

————————————————————————

He woke up on the ground.

Harry sat up, confused at first, but after processing his surroundings knew exactly where he was. As if he could ever forget those rusted iron gates with the lion head emblems, or the shadows of the large yew trees dispersed throughout the small block of land, or the various shapes and sizes of the tombstones settled in neat rows, half-buried in the overgrown grass. Of course, it was different to when he last visited - the snow covered ground now green and dewy save for a trail of footprints that must belong to earlier visitors, the dawn lighting the sky in an array of pastel blues and purples and pinks - but yes, it was the same place.

St Jerome's Graveyard, Godric's Hollow.

How did I get here? He asked himself as he stood up on the dewy grass he woke up in. The only thing he could remember was trees. And people, though who he didn't know. The last place he was... a forest.

Questions raced through Harry's mind as he turned his head around in search for clues; anyone, anything that would give him at least somewhat of an idea as to why he was there.

He took a step and gasped. To him, walking felt like going up a staircase in the dark thinking there's one more step than there actually is, and there's that tiny little heart attack as your foot falls and pounds on the floor.

He stood there - confused and scared - long enough to notice that as the sun rose higher, the less solid he felt, as if he were evaporating right then and there.

Strange

Harry's breathing became hollow, as if it was just him alone in a big room with his voice echoing into every corner and crevice - only it was in his head.

How long he stood there silently listening to his rapid breathing and getting used to the weird feeling of his body, Harry didn't know. His mind was reeling, going through every old memory, every book and anything anyone had ever said to him in search of whatever might be useful in explaining what was going on when he heard the creak and scrape of iron against iron as the ghastly old gate was pushed open.

He turned around to see a group of people enter the graveyard. They were all dressed formally and respectfully, as if just popping in to visit a loved one before heading off to a fancy restaurant, or a wedding.

Harry knew this wasn't the case though, not one bit, for he recognised each and every face attached to each and every person that crossed the threshold from the bright and lively land of the living into the bleak and dull realm of the dead, and he knew. He knew straight away that they were there for him.