Disclaimer: I own nothing!
A/N: Its been a few years so I'm giving this another whirl. Let me know what you think.
It was quiet where he was. He was laying somewhere, and couldn't remember how he had gotten there. The sky was stormy and gray. There was grass tickling his
cheek; the ground was cold, damp, and wet. Something bad had happened here, but he didn't know what. Come to think of it, he couldn't even remember his own
name.
He sat up and looked around. Spread out before him were many bodies. There was blood everywhere, and a smell of death was fresh in the air. He seemed to be the
only one alive. Slowly, he stood up and made his way across the field. He had no idea where he was going, and no idea who he was. All he knew is he did not wish to
linger for a second longer here.
As he walked, he slowly became aware of the pain in his leg and the ache in his head. He realized that he too was covered in blood, and had wounds.
"What is this place?" He wondered. "What happened?"
The only clues he had to go on were a stick, book, rock, and a robe. Not much to give him hope of figuring out who he was.
He had to keep trying to navigate around the bodies, and in some spots step over them. With a disgusted look on his face, he got out of the field as quickly as he
could.
He carried the few items that he had closely. Something strange was going on, and he was on his own to figure it out.
Meanwhile, far away there was a man that wasn't entirely sure he believed what he had been told. There was no way that Harry Potter was dead. He could still sense
the boy. If he had perished as they said he did during their battle. Surely, he wouldn't feel his presence in his mind any longer.
But alas, during the battle he had been knocked unconscious and rushed out of the battlefield. So, he had no idea what had really occurred.