Authoress Note: Whether it was reading the book or watching he movie, there was just one thing I couldn't get off my mind. Don't get me wrong. I'm team voldeort all the way, but...What is Harry going to do now? There is a reason why all tragic heroes die at the end of their story. After all, what is left for them to do, once all they know how to do is not needed anymore? I don't know if there are people who think like me, but I would really like to know what you guys think! Excuse the grammar, english is not my first lenguage and I don't have a beta for this yet x3

Dissclaimer: I own nothing!

Day one

It's a dark place.

He's never been in a darkest place.

There is no darker place than this.

"I knew you'd come, eventually."

Harry stares at the man sitting behind the desk across from him, and arches an eyebrow.

"You did?"

"Of course" the old man laughs "You are alive, after all. Most of the ones who are still alive have come, one time or another. Some still do."

Harry wants to leave. This was a mistake.

"You want to leave so soon? You haven't even told me why you came."

Legeremancy. Harry supresses an humourless laugh.

"I've been having dreams, lately" he speaks finally "And, when I wake up, I want to kill my wife."

It sounds horrible, now that he says it out loud.

"And why is that? What dreams will lead you to ever consider killing someone?"

"Just to...do it, I guess. To do something." he has never talked about his dreams before "I dream of Him. He comes to kill me every night, and every night he ends up dead, and I live. And there are voices that keep whispering: what now? what now?"

"It is normal to relive that moment. You killed the most feared wizard of all time, after all."

Harry snorts.

"Hardly an acomplishment. He basically killed himself."

The old man leans in, hands flat on the old wooden surface od the desk, and studies the man before him.

"I had been told you were a really nice man. You seem a little bitter to me."

"I used to be a really nice guy" Harry admits, shrugging "I was Harry Potter, after all. I had to be nice because everything about me was so horrible."

"And you're not Harry Potter anymore? What changed?"

Harry ponders for a moment. What hasn't changed?

"Everything" he answers finally "I should be dead and I am alive. I am the Boy who Lived" he falls silent for a moment, then smiles slightly "Maybe nothing has changed. Just like that time, I should have died and I lived."

"You really believe you should have died?"

"Yes" he doesn't know why he's so sure "I don't know how to live."

The old man stares at him and nods slightly. A quill on the table lifts itself up and begins to scribble something on a parchment. It's to far away for Harry to read it, but he doesn't think he want's to.

"When did this dreams started?"

Harry doesn't want to answer. He will probbably sound like a lunatic, but, he's already said enough to make this man confine him in the farthest room of , after all.

"You said, whatever I tell you won't be revealed to others, right?"

"Whatever you say in this room, stays in this room."

Harry doesn't trust him. He trusts no one, these days.

"It all begun a month ago" he begins, finally "A man was taken to the Ministry, claiming that Voldemort was alive and that we shall all fear his vengance."

"That story has been told before. What was different this time?"

Harry shudders.

"I was there. I saw his face. It was not the face of madness, it was the face of hope. Most people wouldn't know the difference, but I've seen my fair share of mad and hopefull, and, though sometimes the difference is almost nonexistant, sometimes it's inmense."

Harry notices that the small black eyes of the man shine with interest, and he can't help but relish in the feeling of...importance that it gives him. He had almost forgotten what it felt like to be the center of attention.

"The Dark Lord will be back" Harry whispers "The Dark Lord will be back, for everytime you try to kill him, only makes him stronger."

Silence overcomes, and, after what seems like an eternity, Harry finds the courage to continue.

"I felt it, too. The hope. It was like something inside me that had been asleep, had suddenly been awaken. The thrill of the fight, the power everytime I cast a spell, the ache of my scar, the visions...suddenly, it all came back, and, in my head, it kept repeating: what now? what now?" he takes a shaky breath, and realizes that, though he knows he should stop talking, he simply can't "It's been twenty years. All of the people I love lost something in that wat. But me? The people I love survived. I married, I have a family, I've seen my kids march to Hogwarts in the same train I did, I have a job I love and a life I never though I'd have. What would you say I lost in the war?"

"I would't know. What did you lose in the war?"

You're a fool, Harry Potter, and you will lose everything.

"Nothing" He answers "I lost nothing."