a/n: This is a sequel to a previous story of mine named Obliviate. I highly suggest reading it before you check out this one so everything makes sense! I own nothing, and I hope you enjoy this spin on Deathly Hallows!

Much appreciation!
~Solis

There it was. The object that followed Harry without a word or whisper with less than a scratch etched into its deep oak lid. Harry sat on his tiny twin sized bed on the upper floor of the Dursley's home, staring down at his school trunk that normally would have been resting peacefully at his dorm at Hogwarts. The lid opened with ease and Harry began piecing through familiar objects he had stored away from the six years he spent inside the castle. Harry's Quidditch uniform was neatly folded in the far corner; still stains of dirt and a few chips of wood were clinging to the fabric. Harry clearly remembered the time he rammed head first into the Ravenclaw seating tower, watching glimpses of blonde blurring in the speed of flight.

Safely in the center were objects that bore more weight than their actually mass in reality. A wand sat perpendicularly on a leather bound notebook that Harry practiced a few attempts to pick up before he was actually able to do it. The wand was roughly 10 inches, rowan wood with intricate etchings of vines and tiny leaves, and from what Harry was aware of the string of a thestral tail as the core.

This was the first time Harry was able to muster the courage to finger through that logbook of Ophelia Bloom's since the spring when he made the decision to leave Hogwarts. Somehow the pages of the musty book against his lips were able to help ease the darkness in his head wondering where she was now. Harry dare not have the heart to read again the personal entries from her again; he feared he couldn't handle the pain of that he so successfully buried deep inside of him.

Harry had no use for an extra wand, but somehow this dear object ended up in his sack along with the leather-bound book that night.

A few articles from the Prophet lay unfolded in Harry's lap where he found himself reading through obituaries of Albus Dumbledore. Some of the readings were unbelievable to Harry, now realizing that Harry was completely uninformed about Dumbledore's life past the walls of Hogwarts. What should comfort him actually perturbed Harry more recognizing how little he knew of someone who he looked up to as a father figure.

The Dursley's kept their mouths zipped up tight as Harry assisted them in packing their belongings in mountains of cardboard boxes. Even though the Dursley's had been nothing but awful to Harry, he felt he owed it to them to ensure their safety through the impending chaos that could directly affect them. By nightfall, the entire bungalow style house was nothing but gaudy wallpaper and fluffy pink carpet.

The cupboard under the stairs welcomed Harry for the last time as he ducked under the opening and took a seat on the floor staring up at two miniature white shelves. A thick layer of dust piled around the rubber bottoms of Harry shoes as he peered up at the few time worn toys that were still placed on the highest shelf in the cupboard. Thin streams of powder fell from the cracks of the stairs as Harry heard booming knocks on the front door. Hargrid nearly busted the door off the hinges standing alongside Harry's two best friends and a large chunk of The Order. They all noisily filed into the empty family room, making a messy mob around Harry in the center. Remus and Tonks had unusually large smiles on their faces with Tonks attempted to tell Harry of exciting news before Alastor cut them off.

"We don't have time for catch up." He boomed, now taking the center of the room.

"Alright, everyone. Harry still has the mark on him; so don't expect to fly through the lovely night air and sightsee. All Harrys and company, you need to prepare yourself for battle."

"No, absolutely not." Harry took a firm stand in front of Mad Eye.

"Harry don't-"

"No." Harry cut off Hermione.

"This is too dangerous. I can't risk any of you. I can do this alone."

"Are you mad, Potter? This is the best way for you to safely make it out of here alive." Mad Eye protested.

"I've lost too-"

"I know it hurts, Harry. What happened to you was unfair. We all are prepared to fight for you, and the honor of those who can no longer fight. " Bill Weasley affirmed.

Harry barely ever heard Bill speak out against anything, let alone Harry's own bullheadedness. The way the room somberly bowed their heads; Harry knew that Bill was referencing the figurative loss of Lia. Harry sometimes overlooked the fact that each and every one of them encountered loss that year; Lia was a friend to everyone and Harry choked back his pride.

"Alright then." Harry hesitantly agreed.

Fleur, Fred, George, Ron, Mundungus, and Hermione sipped from Alastor's polyjuice flask, gagging down the chunky consistency of the liquid along with tufts of Harry's black hair. Soon the pairs boarded their flying vessels, which quite naturally Harry and Hagrid were paired in Sirius's flying motorcycle taking that one last flight just the like first night the two met.

The motorcycle roared through the starry night sky, and it was only a matter of time before the trails of black translucent Death Eaters were swarming them. With a few cracks of bright violent lightening, Harry's poor eyesight could clearly see an infestation of Death Eaters around his friends. Flashes of green were flying all around Hagrid and Harry, while he countered with curses and hexes back into the darkness.

Harry awoke, unaware that he had collapsed at the Burrow the night prior after the party had almost all safely returned. The usual clamor coming from Molly's kitchen was now filled with silence. Hedwig hooted softly in her cage, Harry noticing a bandage around her wing, and a handful of her white feathers stained with a brownish red color. George had a matching bandage wrapped tightly around his head as he sipped on a tiny cup of steaming coffee.

"Where is everyone?'

George answered with a head nod toward the cozy fire where mainly everyone except Alastor and Mundungus were gathered. Harry entered the room, slightly worried about the fact that not one of them noticed his presence. For a moment, Harry wondered if he was even alive, or if he was just a ghost floating about.

"Morning." Harry announced standing in the threshold of the room.

The only face to gaze up and meet Harry's was Lupin's, still completely emotionless.

"What happened last night?" Harry questioned, sitting on the edge of the couch next to Arthur.

"Alastor never made it back." Bill announced.

Harry swallowed, now a bit more frightened that one of the best aurors of all time was not able to escape the clutches of Voldemort. Hermione squirmed in her seat, while Ron gripped onto the edges of her knitted pink sweater.

"Harry-"

"Please Arthur, don't. Don't tell him." Hermione uncontrollably wept.

"Tell me what?" Harry leaned in, wondering how the news could get much worse than Alastor's death.

"Harry, last night after we made it back to the Burrow, the Death Eaters were infuriated that their plan didn't execute as smoothly as they had expected. They spent the entire night terrorizing the world, flying in packs just destroying random cities."

Harry was wondering where the bad news was coming, seeing that Arthur was clearly taking overly long to finish his story.

"As a man in the department of Muggle studies I spend most of my time reading Muggle news articles… Lia."

Arthur paused.

"Over holiday Lia set me up with a subscription to The Denver Post, a rather famous newspaper in the state she called home. Errol flew in this morning with the usual lot of Muggle papers from around the world, and … Molly and I came across this."

Arthur lifted his fist over his should and nudged Harry with a balled up newspaper article. Hermione let an outburst of tears and a rather loud squeal while Ginny rose from the floor and pulled Hermione's wavy hair onto her shoulder.

Boulder, Co.

As of 3am last night Boulder was stricken by what is assumed to be terrorist bombing attacks. Along with Houston, TX, Tempe, AZ, and many other cities in the US, random corporate buildings, schools and some residential areas were affected. Over 1000 citizen deaths have been reported in the country, but only 15 in the city of Boulder. Only five names have been released to our post; Sandy Wilson, a 35 year old 5th grade teacher, Earl Janke, 90 year old Vietnam War Veteran, Tamika and Kurt Wentworth, age 23 and 28 newlywed couple, and 16 year old Ophelia Bloom, a local teen advocate of science and winner of the Youth Outstanding Samaritan award for the city of Boulder. All funeral sessions will be held this Saturday, refer to Obituaries for location.

The air in Harry's lungs ceased, his blood seemed to stop pumping and he felt his body lose control of functions. Arthur caught Harry before he hit the ground; Harry was in a catatonic shock. The sounds of Hermione, Ginny, Molly and Fleur weeping were the only background noise while Harry crumpled the article in his chest. Arthur's grip wasn't necessarily tight and Harry slipped away from him and ran into the back brushes behind the Burrow where he vomited the acid from his stomach into a pile of yellow hay. This was a nightmare; it couldn't be true. Lia was supposed to be protected without her memory of Harry; that was the price he had to pay. It's why Harry never wrote to her, or attempted to retrieve the memories of their past. Harry thought the suffering of Lia was only going to be a dull pain always bothering him in the deepness of his nerves and not a continuous stabbing right into his heart.

After hours of wandering aimlessly in the fields at the Burrow, Harry was completely ready to start analyzing. Whether it be denial, or madness, after a long time of cooling down, Harry wasn't convinced of the article. Either Death Eaters had fabricated it to break Harry down of his last remaining threads, or it really was just a nightmare and Harry had to wait it out to wake up. There was no way in Harry's mind that he wouldn't feel that connection break. From the moment Ophelia stepped into his life, Harry had constant electricity running through him. Even the day that Lia packed her things without an inkling of who Harry was, that electricity never left him.