Time periods are different from the books. I DO NOT own any of the Harry Potter. It belongs to JK Rowling. Enjoy! Do yourself a favor and listen to It's Not Over by Chris Daughtry while reading this.

Fred watched silently as his family gathered around his body, crying. He longed to comfort them, but he couldn't.

Not anymore.

Fred trembled as his twin came to his knees at Fred's side, sobbing hysterically. This was too much for Fred, and he too collapsed, tear pouring down his face. He knew he wasn't dead; there was no finality in this darkness. He had to find a way to go back. He must.

Fred gathered his wits and stood. He turned from the image and peered through the blackness, trying to make out his surroundings. Mist seemed to crowd into almost-definable shapes and then dissipate around him. He looked down at himself. He wasn't quite mist, but he wasn't solid, either.

Fred walked slowly through the darkness. His footfalls echoed through the silence. The mist seemed to crowd around him, urging, pushing him forward. Another, definite shape seemed to appear in this distance. Fred raced toward it, and this other person seemed to run toward him, too. As they got closer to each other, Fred could see the girl's black waves bouncing off her back. Her pale skin was almost powdery white in her sheer state. Her eyes were bright, startling green, the only true color in this strange place.

She stopped in front of Fred. "Are you real? Or are you just another shade?" she asked, her wind chime-voice shaking slightly.

"I'm real. What's going on?" He asked, taking in her distressed face.

"I- I've dreamt of you. It was long ago, I think. When I was just a girl, and I was still alive. I've been in here for years searching for someone who was like me, and here you are," she whispered, looking up at Fred.

"What? I don't even know your name! And who told you that?"

The girl (or woman, it was hard to tell) blushed. "I'm so sorry. My name is Dawn Carson. I was born in 1924, and I died in 1942, three weeks after my eighteenth birthday. I was a spy for the Allies. I was captured by the Italians when I was caught sending a message to the U.S. army. I escaped, but…" She said this softly but willingly. She seemed to Fred extremely open with her feelings.

"But what?" Fred asked.

"Well, you see, when I got back home, my father was very suspicious. He was old, too old to go to war, and he was the priest at the local church, so he stayed at home. He didn't care much for me or my brother, but he wanted his family to be honored, so he sent both of us off. My father really didn't think I would come back, so when I did, he was angry. He said there was no way I could've escaped. He was a man of old superstitions, so he- he tied me to a stake and burned me for use of witchcraft," she whispered, lowering her head.

Fred, on the other hand, laughed heartily. "Really? He killed you just because he thought you were a witch? Well, I certainly hope you don't share his ways, 'cause then I'll really be dead!"

"What!" Dawn gasped. She scrambled backwards, her eyes wide.

Fred put his hands up in surrender. "Dawn, honestly, why would you be afraid of me? Wizardry isn't a sin,"

Stubbornly, Dawn crossed her arms and glared up at Fred. "Formally introduce yourself and your death, and then explain," she commanded.

Fred smiled and began speaking, "My name is Fred Weasley. I was born in 1991, and I died today, in 2011. I died in the Battle of Hogwarts, a school for witchcraft and wizardry. My entire family is still fighting at this very moment. My mother, my father, my brothers Bill, Charlie, Percy, Ron, and my sister Ginny are all still fighting. My twin, George, is out there too. We were all fighting against the Death Eaters, or Voldemort's followers."

Dawn, already fighting curiosity, gave in. "Who is Voldemort?" she asked.

"He is the reason for this war. He wants to live forever, and he doesn't like Muggle-borns or blood traitors, like my family and me. Muggles are non-magical people," he said, sensing the question, "So, were you really a witch? Or was your father just barmy?"

Dawn shook her head. "Honestly, I'm not sure. I can't remember how I escaped," she said, looking up at Fred once more.

Fred dug through his pockets, hoping. Thankfully his fingers curled around the object of his search, his wand. "Here, try using this. Flick your wrist and say Lumos!" He said, handing her the wand.

Dawn hesitantly gripped the wand. She raised it in the air, flicked her wrist, and said Lumos exactly correct.

The tip of the wand glowed white-blue in the darkness.

Dawn stared down in awe, speechless. Fred laughed and gently took his wand back. "I guess your father was right."