When Jirina visits Hogwarts for her seventh year, she has no idea that this will be much, much more exciting than living in one of the only two magical countries in the world. Neither do the golden trio, Draco Malfoy or Severus Snape.

And she wept, for the friends she lost, for the lives of their murderers that she didn't take, for her own living because it was no more a living with nothing to live for, she wept for the memories and dreams that lay shattered to pieces in her heart...

After Voldemort's death in Harry's seven year, he leaves behind a - well, a soul. And on the battlefield of the last war against the Dark Lord, the unfortunate being closest to Tom Riddle's soul is no other than Harry Potter himself... Truly unfortunate?

Nothing can put an end to the pain but death. Only death can defy the laws of living, of pain, of burning...

And the wind sang sorrowful songs and danced around them all, embracing the thoughts of anger and revenge and taking them away with it, for Albus Dumbledore would not want his friends to pay the price of his death in blood and even more sorrow...