Tied

Chapter Seven- Sever My Soul

When Harry opened his eyes, he wasn't in his backyard, or even in his house.

He was lying on his back on cold ground, it felt like cobblestones. His hand was lying in something, and it was cold. He turned his head and jerked his hand out.

He practically flew up, and he was on his feet.

His hand had been lying in a puddle of blood, turning brown and crusty around the edges. There was no one, or nothing, to show who or what it had come from, but it was still blood.

The singular puddle about the size of a trash can lid, was enough to make the whole room smell like rusted iron, and was enough to make Harry gag.

He turned around and located a door, and ran out, pushing it open with his blood covered hand.

He stopped in his tracks once he exited the door.

There was an unrecognizable little girl lying on the ground. "Hello!" She didn't move, didn't stir.

Her hair was under her, and plastered to her forehead with sweat. She was wearing a white tank top, lightly splattered with blood, and a remnant of a handprint. She had jeans on, and a pair of combat boots.

Harry got closer, and realized it wasn't sweat at all. There was blood on her face, pasting bits of her hair onto her head.

Harry pulled the long blonde curls away from her face and neck. He put two fingers onto her neck where a pulse should have beat.

There was none.

He slammed his fists onto the ground.

He couldn't save her.

There wasn't a chance in the world that he could have. He wasn't even there.

He looked at the little girl again. Half of her face on the other side was bloody and mottled. Someone must have slammed her head into a wall or a table or something to kill her.

Or onto the floor.

He seemed to suddenly realize, suddenly connect. That blood on the floor had to have been hers.

He picked her up the way she did with Ginny. She had to be about 12 or 13, but she was light as a feather.

He turned around, and walked down the winding hallway.

He had turned several corners, and still looked forward, or even tilting his head down to look at the little girl, who could have been sleeping if it wasn't for the blood.

He looked up, and something caught his eye. A statue, of a hog.

He thought it was nothing, and nearly continued walking. He stopped, with one foot in the air, and turned back to the hog statue.

He almost dropped the girl, but he kept his hold on her.

Hogwarts. He was in Hogwarts. He turned, and almost started running the other way, until he reached a flight of stairs.

He went down them slowly, still with the girl in his arms.

This time, he did drop her body.

There were people everywhere. More than ¾ of them were crying. And there were people lying on the floor in cots, not moving.

Hastily, he bent down and picked up the girl again.

"Hello!" No one looked up, no one looked at him.

He screamed out again, but still no reaction.

They can't see you. You're invisible.

He stepped forward again, and looked around. He found an empty cot, and gently laid down the girl. He brushed her hair out of her face, and wiped the blood off with his sleeve.

She was a beautiful child, with a small scar on her temple, like a child's drawing of a sun.

He stood up, and started to walk through the rows of cots. There were all sorts of people here, but none of them were the same age as the blonde girl. They all looked sixteen or older, but he could have been wrong about their ages.

He turned to walk down another row, but then stopped dead. He turned slowly on his heel, and looked down.

Fred Weasley has died.

Fred was lying on a cot, has arms spread out, his eyes glassy. He still seemed to be smiling.

He heard a crash, then yelling. He spun around, and saw it.

George Weasley is alone.

George was running down the halls, and Ginny and Percy seemed to be sprinting after him, trying to stop him.

Ginny vaulted onto one of the tables in the Great Hall, and nearly tackled George but missed, and landed on top of Percy instead.

She shoved off of him, and took off after George.

But it was too late. She stopped, holding her hand out at him.

George was practically on top of Fred's corpse, pulling at his clothes and screaming, yelling at him to get up, to wake up, to give up the joke, Fred please!

Harry couldn't take it anymore, and turned away.

There was a scream, and he turned towards it.

Margo Beararcher is too late.

She pointed and started running. But it was too late. A man seemed to appear out of nowhere, and pointed his wand in Ginny's direction.

She turned just in time, and Margo yelled and Harry wanted to move but couldn't.

Ginny Weasley will not be saved.

The death curse flew towards Ginny, and hit her right in the chest. She flew back, her eyes open, but all the life and joking and emotion and everything that made her Ginny, was gone.

Ginny Weasley was not saved.

Harry felt something on his shoulder, and he turned.

The was the blonde girl, but there was no blood, and she was in a white dress. Her hair was clean and it shone.

She looked like an angel.

He looked towards where the girl lay, and she was still there, exactly as he had left her.

"This is what will happen if you can't change it, Harry Potter." She turned away from him, her dress rippling, and hair bouncing.

In silver light, she was gone.

"Wait! What do you mean! How can I change this! I want her back! I want them all back! Tell me!"

Harry Potter change change it.

Harry Potter can only change it if he wants to.

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