Eyes fluttered open to bright orange light and intense heat. A thick fog penetrated his vision, stinging the delicate tissue to once again close. Groggily Harry sat up, the sound of screams piercing his ears. "Where am I?" Smoke was painfully inhaled at this inquisition and left Harry in a momentary coughing fit until a nearby whimper caught his ears.

"Harry?" questioned the weak voice of Ginny Weasley from the ground. Her body laid in an inhuman position; it was obvious multiple bones were broken. Blood was streaming out of her as if she was a faucet. A strangled cry emitted from Harry's throat. She was dying.

"Ginny! Oh, god. Please no…" Tears stung his eyes upon further inspection of her body. Small cuts and bruises littered her frail form. Her eye was swollen and going by the milky color, she was blind. Harry felt like screaming. How could this be happening? How could he let this happen? "Ginny, don't die!" Harry cried pathetically.

"I'm so" She wheezed, "sorry, Harry." Every last breath painfully labored. "Death Eaters… attacked… the burrow… we couldn't… hold them off… " and with her last breath she pleaded, "Help them. Please." Her head gently rolled to the side; her body limping as life drifted away.

"

Flames shot their red thrusts throughout the surroundings of the Burrow. Like a candle lit by a Molotov Cocktail, everything was red- and exploding. The air sparkeled with half-lit flames. In the midst of all of this, Harry Potter knelt with Ginny Weasely in his lap. Holding onto her head as tightly as he had Hedwig that first night back from Hogwarts, Harry stayed still as the night. A roof collapsed, falling almost eagerly into the ground. The Weasely Garden had become one existing just in name. Chaos ruled its fiery head in all but one boy.

That boy was moving. Standing up shakily, seemingly in disbelief, he rose to his feet. Running to the Floo, he tossed in some powder.

"Ministry of Magic," he screamed. "There's been an attack on the Burrow, at least one dead! Yes, m'am, I'm Harry Potter. We need medical help!"

Call done, Harry then ran up and down the Weasly lot. Totally focused, he moved as a man possesed, dearthly wishing for something, anything to show it's face. Running through the kitchen, skipping up the stairs, kicking down the door. Yet, nothing.

"Bang!" A loud noise, from outside.

"

Mr. Potter?," a deep voice called out.

Harry, arms pumping in the air, exited the Burrow house. The fire had died down somewhat. Sweating profusely, he made his way outside.

"Are you the medical team? Thank god you're here. I've only found -"The man raised his arm and fired a spell. "Avada Kedavara!" Harry, trained by years of trouble with Voldemort, instinctively ducked for cover, and the spell shot over his head. He then dove for the house, just making it through the door before a barrage of magic hit the entrance he had just closed.

"Fool! Hasn't the Dark Lord told us not to use the death spell? He is the boy of prophecy, not a fucking Weasely! For Merlin's sake!"

On the other side of the physical abutment, Harry was to say the least, stressed. "What in the world? Didn't I call the Ministry of Magic?" Back pressed against the door, Harry pondered just what could have happened. "They seem to be Voldemort surrogates or at least supporters. But how could they have found out where I was? Could it have been-"

Harry never got the chance to finish his thought, whatwith the explosion inward of the door and all. Knocked on his arse a good ten feet away, he never had a chance. Advancing eagerly toward him, the Death Eater? (Harry noticed with a start that he was not wearing a Dementor-like cloak instead opting for the white medical robes that characterized the medical wizards.) brought out their wand. "Reducto!" A red vortex of magic stalked through the air, slicing into Harry Potter's coronary and internal organs.

"I'm in such...incredible pain.." Blood pouring out seemingly by the litter, Harry collapsed onto the dirt pavement of the Weasely home. All was a blur. The Death Eater took off their mask (it was a women - auburn hair much like Hermione's Harry dryly noted.) Slowly, the boy saw less, smelt less, heard less, but felt much more pain. Drifting away, all he could think of was Sirius.