Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters…JKR does. (But all of you knew that already:P)

A/N: This is just a start to a story I might continue if anyone likes it. It's about the end of Harry's fourth year, and what would have happened if Harry hadn't returned from the graveyard. Some details from the Goblet of Fire will be changed, however. Also, the story will flash back to night of the Third Task, and then go on to the future…

Dark, grey clouds covered the sky, stretching for miles. Although it was early September, a harsh, cold wind whipped across the castle grounds. A few thousand people had gathered on the grass in front of Hogwarts Castle, including the entire student body of Hogwarts. Witches and wizards from all over the globe had traveled to attend the sorrowful event that was taking place on a cold, June morning.

Hermione Granger stood in the front row of the sheer amount of people, holding on to her best friend, Ron Weasley. Hermione's head was buried into Ron's chest, and fresh, unending tears flowed down her face. Ron, who was suffering just as much pain and grief as his best friend, wrapped his arms around the sobbing girl and stood solemnly; he stared straight ahead, almost never blinking.

Dumbledore looked even more sad and tired than anyone; the old man slowly walked up onto a small, wooden stage in front of the crowd to a small wooden podium.

Those in the front could see that the great wizard had deep, purple circles under his eyes which made him look as if he had not sleep in a week.

With a tremendous effort, Dumbledore raised his head and scanned the crowd. A silence bore down over all of the castle grounds. Finally, Dumbledore began to speak.

"Thank you for coming today," the old man began, in a surprisingly calm voice after everything that had happened in the past few months. "All of us have gathered here, at Hogwarts, to mourn the loss of a beloved wizard—Harry Potter."

At Dumbledore's mention of Harry, Ron jerked his head up, and began to stare at Dumbledore. Ron felt tears welling up behind his eyes, but refused to let them fall. He had lost his best friend last June, and was now attending a memorial service for him. Ron and Hermione had spent the entire summer hoping for the smallest ray of hope, the tiniest bit of news about their best friend. The entire wizarding world had mourned the loss of their hero since June, and ceaseless searches for the-boy-who-lived continued through out the summer. Now, as a new September approached, the searches became less and less frequent, and the wizarding community seemed to give up all hope.

Hermione lifted her tear-stained face up and looked into Ron's eyes. "We shouldn't be here, Ron," Hermione choked out. "He's not gone."

Ron frowned and sighed. "I know Hermione. I don't want to give up hope either. I don't want to be here, and I don't want to just forget about Harry either," Ron whispered quietly. "We'll continue fighting, and I know all of Harry's close friends are going to fight with us."

Hermione nodded her head, being unable to speak through her tears.

"…Last June, Harry Potter was unfortunately kidnapped by a group of Death Eaters, while fellow Triwizard Champion, Cedric Diggory was killed…"

Ron barely listened as Dumbledore spoke-hearing the things Dumbledore would say about his best friend would be too much to handle right now. That horrible night in June had been chaotic. Both Ron and Hermione had cried the entire night, and neither of them had slept at all during the night. The weeks and months following had been just as bad. No one could walk through Hogwarts without seeing a sad gloomy face, or a girl crying on someone's shoulder. Ron himself had remained a mess for the next week until he realized that he had to be strong for everyone around him. When summer vacation started, Hermione stayed with the Weasley's at the Burrow, and moped around with Ginny; both of them hoping for some small bit of news about Harry. Unfortunately, no news had come. Not in the first week, or the second, and not during the whole summer.