After the nervous tension of the award ceremony, the graduation party had moved outside to the grounds where people relaxed and began milling about in the summer sun next to a large marquee containing a buffet and a band. Hermione and her parents, Ron and his (and Ginny), and Harry stood huddled together.
‘So what are you planning to do now, Harry?’ asked Mr Wesley.
‘I haven’t really thought about it, I was thinking of doing some travelling,’ replied Harry.
‘Well, Ron’s off to join the Ministry. They’re after all the help they can get at the moment, what with You-Know-Who on the rise. My department alone has more than quadrupled in size.’
Harry knew Ron was off to the Ministry. It was more at his father’s insistence than because Ron had wanted to join.
‘And what about you, Hermione?’ asked Mr Wesley.
‘I’m going to Croatia to continue my studies. I’d like to come back here as a teacher at some stage.’
‘Oh, goooood. It’s nice to know that Hogwart’s high standards will be maintained.’
Hermione went slightly pink, something she seemed to be making a habit of.
They carried on talking for some time, discussing the current events in the world; the parents discussing their children’s futures; the children discussing what they wanted to do with their futures, which usually differed.

The scar on Harry’s head began to hurt, slowly it became more painful until it was excruciating, he had learnt to live with the pain as time went on and the others didn’t notice his discomfort. He broke away from the group, muttering ‘excuse me.’ He started to put a bit of distance between himself and the crowd of people, finding a slightly quieter area nearer the Dark Forest. He turned around and looked back at the crowd some distance away. That was when he heard it. That cold laugh that chilled his bones. There was a group of hooded figures off to the side of the main crowd. They all wore dark cloaks, keeping their faces hidden, in complete contrast to the huddled mass of parents and students. The lead figure slowly removed his hood. It was Voldermort. An audible gasp could be heard from the crowd who where suddenly silent. The group of Death Eaters with Voldermort spread out between the Dark Lord and the families, their wands raised.
‘I have come to finish the job, Potter. The job I started sixteen years ago,’ called Voldermort coolly.
Voldermort raised his wand. Harry shoved his hand into his cloak for his. It was too late.
Voldermort called, ‘Crucio.’
Harry could feel a burning sensation all over his skin, he felt as if he was on fire. He didn’t scream, it took all his will just to stay upright. One of his legs suddenly gave way and he found himself kneeling.
‘I see you have achieved your true position before me,’ called Voldermort.
People in the crowd were starting to get restless, wanting to do something, but at any sign of movement the Death Eaters threatened the crowd with death. Everybody knew they weren’t bluffing.
‘What do we do?’ asked Ron from the side of his mouth.
‘There’s nothing we can do, anybody moves and they’ll be killed,’ replied Mr Weasley.
Harry concentrated hard, he blocked out the pain. With all his effort, he managed to break the spell. He took a second to get his breath, and then stood up.
‘Look, he’s broken free,’ whispered Hermione, ‘that’s amazing, I’ve never seen anyone break the Cruciatus curse. Let alone against someone of Voldermort’s strength.’
Voldermort looked across as Harry, still breathing heavily, stared back at him.
‘You’ve grown strong my young friend. It will be a shame to kill you. I offer you – one last time – a place at my side.’
‘Never. You’re going to have to kill me.’
‘As you wish.’
Voldermort was grinning as he raised his wand.
‘Avada Kedavra’
The curse flew from the Dark Lord’s wand. As it reached Harry a blinding flash appeared. Everyone shielded their eyes. When it died down, instead of seeing Harry’s body, lying lifeless on the floor, there was nothing.

Hermione woke, sat upright, gasping for air. It took her several seconds to figure out where she was. The nightmare had been so real. It seemed like it had just happened; yet Harry had been killed seven years ago.
She looked around the room, she barely recognised it. Her eyes fell on Ron, lying beside her, still asleep. The family who owned this house had either been killed or driven out by Voldermort or his Death Eaters. Now their small band were using it to rest out of the cold and the rain that seemed to perpetuate these days. It had become a dark time. The Dark Lord’s powers were greater than ever before and it looked like nothing could stop him this time. Slowly she lay back down, staring into the darkness, before sleep enveloped her again.

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