Important Note: This is part of Chapter 4 of my main story, Book Seven and Three Quarters. I suggest that you read at least that chapter (and the story) but if you don't want to, I can give you a gist of it in the summary.

Summary (To those who haven't read Book Seven and Three Quarters): At the funeral/mormorial for all who fell at the last battle that seems to be in every fic I've personally read, Harry made a speech that touched the hearts of millions of witches and wizards of the present and future. His words rang far beyond any history book hundreds of years in the future. This is that speech.

Disclaimer: even though I wish to own Harry Potter every night, my wish still hasn't come true! Does anyone know any special tricks?

P.S. the second paragraph in the actuall speech is stated word by word as the second poem at the beginning of DH.

The memorial started with many speeches, memorials, and odes, but even though the words seemed right, they didn't seem perfect. Like when Harry Potter fans all around the world guessed how their favorite series would end; most of them got at least one detail right, but it had to be competely together to make sense. It was like they were missing one tiny, vital peice of the puzzle.

Harry was just beginning to wonder what his speech would sound like, when the time was taken away, and Professor McGonagall called his name. Harry slowly stood up and walked toward the podium. He nervously watched the crowd, and didn't notice that it was the most silent it had been all morning up until that point (it would get more quiet).

He closed his eyes as he reached the podium, taking everything in for one moment. Then took a deep breath, and looked down at the paper he wrote.

However, he found he couldn't read it. Whatever made his eyes, brain or mouth not work he never figured out, he just found himself standing there, almost waiting for a miracle.

One did come. Whatever it was that made him speak was even more a mystery than what made him not. All he knew, was that suddenly, he was talking:

"Thank you, Professor McGonagall. Students, teachers, friends and family, and anyone in any other category: I stand before you today, alive, healthy, and whole. We have just defeated the worst possible excuse for a human being in history. I can pretty much guarantee that Tom Riddle will never darken anyone's doorway ever again, but I'm not the utmost happiest person in the world. You know why? Because my parents, my godfather, half my friends, my teachers, heck, even my owl... died, and everyone I know have been impacted by this war. I doubt there is a single person here who at least lost one person to Voldemort.

However…

Death is but crossing the world, as friends do the seas; they live in one another still. For they must needs be present, that love and live in that which is omnipresent. In this divine glass, they see face to face; and their converse is free, as well as pure. This is the comfort of friends, that though they may be said to die, yet their friendship and society are, in the best sense, ever present, because immortal.

Eventually, we shall see all who have given their lives so that we, the entire world, could live our lives peacefully. You might even see them now, something as small as a shadow or ghost or whisper, or something as meaningful as a gift, or life or death…

Never forget what all who have fallen have given you. Remember, in the times when you are sad, that you can't be sad dead. Remember, when you are feeling weak, how strong they were for you. Remember, at the happiest moments of your lives, how you got there, with their help, and why they did what they did. Remember… remember this whole experience. Understand how and why this happened. Help prevent this from happening ever again. Pass on the stories of how brave, courageous, loyal, cunning, and so many other words to your children and grandchildren.

Help others mourn over this; help not only them, but yourself, to understand this, because only then can you accept what has happened, and move on to live and make sure nothing as horrible as this ever befalls the fate or destiny of the world again…

Thank you."

Harry waited for three whole seconds so he could look over every single face of the crowd. Had he been paying any attention, he might have noticed the tears that every single person's eyes seemed to hold, then fall across their cheeks. As it was, Harry just wanted to see that at least some people were paying attention.

He had absolutely no idea that there were at least fifty journalists who had written down his words and would be dueling each other to have the rights to publish them first. He had no idea that several books would be written about his speech. He had no idea that his speech would win him countless awards, even after he died. He had no idea that a hundred years after his death, a nameless, faceless, potential dark lord would read over his speech, hear the stories, and see the truth, and decide that his time would be spent better elsewhere.

That wasn't even the full extent of what happened because of his speech, but he didn't find out about a good deal of it for two reasons. One, he stopped reading about himself and just had Ginny summarize the important things for him a few months later when need be. Two, even after he died, his voice, spirit, love, and life lived on.

A/N: Now that I think about it, that was more of an ode. To my wonderful readers of B7a3Q, I'm sorry for the long wait of this story, or rather speech. Hopefully, you'll forgive me for not updating sooner, but I found this on my hard drive and had to use it.

That was about as close as I could get to what I imagined Harry's speech and I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it. (I know it's short but still…)

Those who haven't read my main fic of where this idea comes from, feel free to read it, it's under my author's page.

Please leave a review, preferable one I won't need a fire dept. to put out.

PrettyFanGirl

P.S. For some reason, I feel obligated to take this opritunity to thank J.K. Rowling for blessing us all with the miracle of Harry Potter, who has not only saved my life, but given me one too.