Disclaimer: I own nothing involving Harry Potter or it's world, nor do I own The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien. -_-

Please do not take offense to any religious material or characters you might find on this chapter. Everything was written purely so it would fit the plot.

Chapter 2 – I See Fire

"And if the night is burning

I will cover my eyes

For if the dark returns

Then my brothers will die

And as the sky is falling down

It crashed into this lonely town

And with that shadow upon the ground

I hear my people screaming out

Now I see fire"

(Ed Sheeran – I See Fire)

Harry ran as fast as his little legs can carry him out of the stone building, wiping his tears with the back of his hands. For the third time this week Harry had to recite the prayer that was written on the board in front of the whole class. Harry tried his best to read the letters as he thought they were written but failed miserably.

He should have known that prayers would not have the words 'house' and 'feet' in them.

"He doesn't know how to read!"

"Can I please read it, Sister Jamie? He's dumb!"

"He's as blind as a bat! Like Old Sister Margaret!"

Everybody was laughing at him. Harry doesn't know why he's picked at all. Anything past arms length were blurry colors to his eyes. The other kids did nothing but make it worse for him. He knows they throw him obscene gestures to his face – even if he doesn't see it.

Slowing down his pace, Harry stopped when he reached the nearby creek. Exhaling loudly, he plopped himself on the ground, hugging his arms around his legs. He didn't even bother looking at the scenery in front of him. Harry could just make out where the land finished and the water started.

"Hello, child."

Surprised, Harry looked up to see a man walk closer. He was a tall man, wearing all black slacks and a white button up shirt. "He-hello..." Harry slowly stood up, every nerve in his body telling him to run from this man, the air chilling and making the hair on the back of his neck stand. He's heard of scary stories where bad men will take little kids from their homes, never to hear from them again. It doesn't help that besides the clothes, Harry isn't able to see anything else about the man.

The man chuckled as if sensing his thoughts, "Do not worry, I'm not here to hurt anyone. I was just out for a stroll and happened to see you run here crying. May I ask what's wrong?"

Harry relaxed a bit at that. "I have bad eyes." He mumbled, lowering his head.

"What do you mean by bad eyes?" The man asked. "Personally, I have never seen a more beautiful set of eyes in my life."

Harry blushed a deep red and looked away from him. "Umm... thank you, sir." He shook his head. "It's just that I don't see very well... I'm blind."

He chuckled. "You're far from blind, child. You would not have been able to even get here if you were."

"Well, no I'm not blind, but I may as well be. Nobody ever chooses me to play with them and I'm always made fun of - and I run into everything!"

"Hmm... well maybe I can help with that."

Harry started, shaking his head, "No, no it's okay. Glasses are too expensive as a gift, mister. Sister Lucy believes we'll be getting a whole bunch soon anyways..." Harry lied and gave a shaky smile. Why would a stranger want to even help him?

"And yet here you are, crying about something that will be fixed soon."

Harry shrugged, "I don't mean to. Things get to me and I feel bad. So I just cry... don't you ever cry because you feel sad?" Harry stared up at him, leaning against the nearby tree and squinted. He couldn't make out anything past pale skin and dark hair.

"No. It does nothing to help the situation. It only makes you look weak to others." Came the silky reply.

"Sometimes, it makes you feel better." Harry shrugged and looked away. He didn't like the way this man spoke. He sounded like Sister Grissel... when she wanted something. The voice was lower and softer, with affection almost. Except Harry didn't know this man, just like he barely knew Sister Grissel.

Voldemort raised an eyebrow at that. "And do you feel better now?"

"No... I still can't even see you." The small five year old looked tearfully down, "You must think I'm weak if you think that then."

"Normally I would except you're also only five. I'm sure one day you'll learn it's better not to give someone that satisfaction of seeing you hurt." Voldemort stepped closer, noticing the small boy stiffen.

Harry never told him his age. Staring at the man approach, body coiled to run at any minute. Harry listened to him continue, "In this particular situation, you'll find that it's pointless to cry over something easily fixed. You'll find that magic is limitless and can grant you almost anything."

Harry's eyes widened. "M-magic?" This man is crazy. He felt the man settle in near his face, invading his personal space. For a crazy man, he smelled wonderful – like clean cotton, musk, and some kind of subtle spice. It smelled comfy; if a smell was able to be described as such.

A second later, Harry flinched as soon as he saw him slowly inch his hand toward Harry's face. Pausing for only a second, Voldemort stored that information away for a later time. For now, he continued to raise his hand, carding his hand through Harry's soft, raven locks.

Harry froze. He felt the mans right hand continue to stroke his hair and saw his left index finger come stop at his temple. He added enough force to lift Harry's head up towards his face. Now that they were nose to nose, Harry was able to take in the rest of his features. The handsome nose, unblemished skin, strong jawline, dark brown hair... and...

Red eyes.

Harry sucked in a sharp breath and tried pulling his head away. Voldemort tightened his hold on his head, "Shhh... this won't hurt. Much." He added.

'This won't hurt much?!' Harry repeated in his head incredulously.

Scared to death, Harry stared frantically as the man started speaking in tongues, hissing softly under his breath. He continued staring at the red eyes in front of him, wondering if all the stories about Demons who came to take bad children was actually true. In an orphanage, there were stories told to the kids about the scary outside world. Harry felt stupid for coming outside in the first place now.

Harry didn't have much time to ponder his fate when all of a sudden a piercing pain erupted in both his eyes. Shutting his eyes shut, he cried.

Instinctively, he threw himself out of the taller man's grip and unto the ground, but, just as the pain came, it quickly left leaving behind only a mild discomfort.

Harry groaned, feeling his face for any signs of blood or disembodied eyeballs.

"Open your eyes, Harry."

"No." Harry stopped. "And how do you know my name? How do you even know how old I am?"

"Because I do know you. I know your family, your heritage... I know who you really are."

"My – my family?"

"Hmm... yes. Their alive you know."

Harry's eyes flew open. "Their alive?! I thought..." his voice broke off, not wanting to admit that he chose to believe they had died tragically than to believe they had abandoned him.

"They do not matter, Harry. You do not need-"

"Oh my god!" Harry's eyes widened.

Voldemort raised an eyebrow at his outburst. "God?"

Harry didn't pay him attention and stared up at him. Suddenly he closed his eyes shut. "Oh my god," he laughed deliriously. Then winced, "Ow... my eyes hurt." He rapidly fluttered his eyes open and shut. It felt as if something was in his eyes. It didn't matter because Harry suddenly felt tears come to them again. "Oh my god..." He whispered again.

"Your eyes will be a little uncomfortable for the next couple hours but it should pass." And that was all it took for Harry to launch himself into his arms. He wasn't scared of this man. In his books, he was the nicest man he's ever met. He fixed his vision. Harry can now see normally. Inhaling his scent, Harry smiled into the man's shirt, saying as many "Thank You's" as he could.

"It was nothing. Consider it a birthday gift."

"Today's my birthday?" Harry blinked up at him.

"You didn't know, child?"

Harry shook his head, still hugging him. "No, we don't really celebrate birthdays. It promotes selfishness and vanity, and instead of receiving gifts, we should tide all that we could to God."

"Well, that's the most ridiculous thing I've heard in a while. And I've been a witness to many."

Harry smiled. He didn't care how magic even existed, or that now he's questioning everything he's been told, but he does now that he sees everything so clearly now because of this man. "It's really all so overwhelming. All the bright, crisp colors. Its kind of making my head hurt." He confessed, "You also have scary eyes, but I don't find them so scary anymore."

Voldemort chuckled. "My eyes are scary? Good, that's one of the perks, although I'm glad you don't find it scary anymore, child."

Harry pouted. "Not a child. And may I ask what's your name?It's not fair that you know mines, and I don't know yours."

Voldemort hesitated before responding softly, "Tom. You can call me Tom." He slowly disentangled himself from the small arms. "I must get going, Harry."

Harry frowned."Will I see you again, Tom?"

Voldemort really had to get used to hearing himself referred to that name again. "Yes, you will. Unfortunately, I am not able to visit too much at the moment but, know that on your birthday, I'll always come and find you."

"Well then I look forward to seeing you next year?" Harry gave a dimpled smile.

Voldemort smirked and waved goodbye, "Until next time, Harry."

Harry smiled to himself at the memory of meeting his first friend Tom. He was ecstatic to learn about magic, learning that he was a wizard like Tom and became hungry to learn. He needed to learn how to take care of himself and not let anyone take advantage of him anymore. He started off with trying to get things to float a little,and soon was able to control the plants as well.

As Harry grew better at magic, his confidence grew. Eventually Harry started answering as many questions as he could in class, asking to be a part of the soccer games and helping others with their homework. The other kids saw his efforts and met him halfway, accepting him into their circle now that he was acting "normal" and just like them.

Though, once Harry mastered the little that he knew, he wanted to know what step he should take next. Unfortunately, when Harry expressed these thoughts to Tom in their second meeting – his 6th birthday – he received a long lecture on his young, uncontrollable core. Tom joked that he might accidentally cause something to explode if he tried to reach his magic at such a young age.

Even now, at 7 years old, Harry still has to stay away from stressing his core too much, always stopping when he's getting tired. Every now and again, like today, he breaks Tom's rules and tries to turn things into other objects. He wanted to prove to Tom he could handle it. Unfortunately, Harry hasn't gotten very far with that. Sighing, Harry turned to his favorite book while he rested his core, one of the few books the orphanage had – The Hobbit. Harry found it fascinating. Was Tom's world like the one of Bilbo Baggins?

"In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort..."

Harry continued to read with a silly smile on his face, knees drawn up and blanket around him, imagining a time when he'll be able to find his own hobbit-hole.

Five chapters later, Georgie, a small mousy blonde, comes running into the dormitory. The small Einstein – because Georgie was probably the smartest kid Harry has ever met – jumped into their shared bed. "Hey Harry!"

Harry scooted over and allowed him to settle in next to him under the covers. "Hey Georgie." Cautiously, he placed the book face down on the bedside table as to not lose his place. "How was your day?"

"Boring!" He pouted. "I hate when you get sick. You sure you can't come to at least the last few classes of the day? I need someone to talk to who doesn't just eat glue and play games all day."

Harry sighed, "Sorry, Georgie. You'll have to be without me for a few more hours. I really don't have the strength to make it through another of Sister Grissel's lectures." Harry technically didn't lie. He really was tired from the extra magic he keeps pushing himself to do, but truthfully he just really didn't like being stared at by those beady little eyes throughout the whole lesson. Harry is at least thankful that Georgie's clingyness and curiosity has stopped her from calling him to stay after classes anymore. He shuddered at the few rare instances of when Georgie wasn't stuck to his side.

"Harry, a word?"

He cursed, closing his eyes. He should have been faster. Clutching his books to his chest, he slowly made his way back into the history room.

"Close the door behind you, doll."

Freezing, Harry stared at her for a second. His blood ran cold... he really wanted to run. Run away from her. Swallowing, harry slowly turned around and closed the door shut. The click of the door making his heart jump.

"Umm... what is it you wanted to speak to me about, Sister Grissel?" he whispered, his back still turned to her. He heard her heels start making their way over.

"Oh, I said call me Grissy, hun. And you know what I wanted to talk to you about, Harry." Tears pricked his eyes as he felt her hand slowly make its way down his spine. "I missed you, dearie."

"No.. no. Please..." Harry chocked out a cry.

She pouted, "You never want to see me anymore, Harry. Is it because of your new little friend. Don't worry I won't let him find out, or anyone." She turned him around to face her. His eyes met clear blue ones. God, how he missed the days when she was just another faceless blur of colors. Now he can see her red freckles on her face, the bit of lipstick on her teeth and the gray in her frizzy hair. So unlike the well polished features of Tom."They might ruin our fun. And we don't want that."

Harry slammed his eyes shut and shook his head. He gave out a sob as she trailed her red painted nails down the front of his shirt, unbuttoning it as she went down. No one would believe him anyway. They blamed him for everything bad that happens to the school. They wouldn't care if he died, much less if he was being hurt.

"Your such a beautiful, beautiful boy, Harry." She crooned as she ran her hand through his soft curls, much like Tom does. He cringed and turned away. "No, look at me Harry, let me see those emeralds of yours. Yes... there they are. My... God must have really loved you to bless you with the appearance of a royal. My little prince." She kissed the side of his cheek, trailing her lips to meet his.

"No!" He yanked his face away, wincing.

"Now, Harry. We went over this... You stay put and close that delicious little mouth of yours. Or else, I might have to explain to Sister Mary that you have been acting up in class..." She continued to kiss him. "Starting tantrums." Kiss. "Not turning in work." Kiss. "Getting a little close to your friend George."

Harry felt bile rise up, disgusted at her thoughts.

"Now will you be a good boy, Harry?"

Harry nodded, swallowing back tears.

"Good boy." She whispered. She unbuttoned his pants with a single flick of her wrists and plunged a hand down. Harry bit down on his lips, drawing blood and covering up any gasps and sobs he made. "One day, when your older you'll feel how good this all can be. But for now... it's my turn to have fun."

Shacking his head at the memories and the forming nausea, Harry forced them to the back of his mind, hoping he didn't look as pale as he felt. He sighed as he noticed the tears begin to form in Georgie's brown eyes.

"Harry, come on. You did promise me you'll always stick with me. That we'll be inseparable."

Harry frowned. When Georgie first came to St. Mary's last year, he constantly cried himself to sleep and spent his days shoved into a broom closet by the cruel older students. Students who used to do the same to Harry. Harry had just offered up his friendship and comfort to a boy who really needed it and reminded Harry of himself.

He knew it was worse for Georgie – he actually knew and lived with his parents for years before they abandoned him at the orphanage. Harry, although also abandoned, never met the people and had no memories beyond the walls of St. Mary's. So Harry cuddled him at night, sat with him at all times, and became his brother in every way. He just never meant for his words to be used against him.

"Georgie..." Whatever Harry wanted to say next was interrupted by the appearance of Sister Mary – the Head nun, and great granddaughter of the name-sake to whom the orphanage was named after. Both boys immediately stood up from the beds. "Good afternoon, Sister Mary." They chanted.

"Good afternoon, boys." She turned her sole attention onto Harry. "Potter, if you'll follow me. I would like to meet with you in my office." She turned her back to him and walked out the door, obviously giving Harry no choice in the matter.

Frowning he hastily followed after her, sharing a puzzled look with Georgie. Sister Mary never shows up to get students herself – she never even makes an appearance out of her office unless its at Breakfast, Dinner, and Sunday Mass.

Keeping his distance to her, he followed the nun down a flight of stairs. Harry never felt comfortable around women, always wary of their intentions and wandering eyes. Eventually, after many turns and stairs, they made it to her office towards the back of the school. Upon entering, Harry was then ushered into an adjoining room. This one looked like a conference room – except without any furniture.

"Wait here, Potter." He heard Sister Mary demand.

"Y-yes ma'am." He stuttered.

Sister Mary left the empty room, closing the door behind her. No one but him was in the room now. Confused, Harry looked around. The room was covered by plush red carpet and had a fireplace across him with a burning fire within it. The only thing strange about the room, besides the missing furniture, were the two hooks placed on the farthest wall.

Shrugging, he settles himself on the carpet. If he was being lectured at least he'll be warm and comfortable for a short while. Warmth like this rarely ever happened. The rooms of the dormitories were either freezing cold, like today, or boiling hot in the summer. The hardwood floors that covered every room in the building did nothing to protect the children from the cold, either.

Hearing voices, Harry turned his attention back to the door. He shifted uncomfortable as he heard his name being mentioned. Was he getting kicked out? Did they finally realize they couldn't deal with him either? Where do orphans go when orphanages don't want them?

Harry snapped to attention when he heard his name again. Furrowing his eyebrows, he slowly stood up. He approached the door cautiously, the voices becoming decipherable.

"...needs your help Father. I've gotten nothing but complaints from the other sisters. These things he can do... it's not normal."

"My dear daughter, what is it that he can do?"

"His vision for one! That boy was nearly completely blind just a couple years ago! Now, his vision is perfect!"

"Could our Father have heard his prayers?"

"The boy never prays!

"Hmm.. never?"

"I watch him during meals – he just looks around while all the others have their eyes closed. Forgive me father, but I had to observe. That boy has never welcomed God. Refuses to wear his rosary at times and is reluctant to attend Sunday Mass from what I've gathered."

"That is troubling indeed..."

"He has the devil inside him, I tell you. The snakes... Bart, our groundskeeper, has seen many snakes of all sizes trying to get inside his window. They follow him around whenever he's outside. The boy swears he doesn't speak the tongue, but it's like they know what he wants and when he feels threatened."

"My God."

"Oh Father, there's more. As a babe... he'll make things break, float, disappear..." She paused. "He recently had a haircut forced on him. Shaved the boys head, we did. Next day, it was like not a single strand was touched. Another time..."

"I think I've heard enough, my dear Mary. I'll like to meet him, but from what I hear an exorcism might be too extreme at this stage. We'll start small today... then take it from there. A child of the devil will not be able to enter this house, remember that Mary. We'll just have to protect him from whatever wants evil wants him."

"Yes... yes, of course, father. Follow me."

Harry scrambled back from his place on the floor just as soon as the door opened. Halfway in their conversation, tears had gathered in his eyes.

'I'm... evil?'

The man behind the voice was dressed as expected, a long black robe with the uniform white collar. He was a middle aged man with graying black hair and hard, brown eyes.

Staring down at the boy, he exclaimed, "Why your just a boy. How old are you, son?"

Harry glared at the man. "Its not true. None of what she said. I didn't do anything."

The man nodded but didn't seem to believe him. "My boy, I'm just here to help you. My names Father Patrick. We both just want to help." He pointed to himself and Sister Mary who stood just a little off the side. In her hand, she carried a large black duffel bag.

Harry's heart sped up. What was their definition of help? Not wanting to know the answer, he jumped up as fast as he could and dove towards the exit. Patrick growled and lunged after him, grabbing at the back of his shirt. Gasping, Harry clawed at the mans hands as he was pushed further away from the door.

"Now, please let's not make this difficult. You must learn to accept God and his love. Let him inside, let him help you drive out whatever evil wants to take root in you."

Harry pulled away, "No, let me go!"

"Well if you're going to struggle, I'll have no choice but to accelerate the process just a notch. Let's chain him up." Patrick motioned for Sister Mary, who pulled out black metal chains from the bag and continued to hook them into the the provided hooks on the wall.

It wasn't as much of a struggle as Harry would have like for it to have been for them to pin him on the wall, arms outstretched. Once shackled, harry finally let the tears he has been holding fall. "Please... don't hurt me. I'm sorry..." He turned his neck and begged with his eyes, pleading to God to help him as well. Instead, he stared in horror as Father Patrick pulled out a long whip. He yelled out a cry, pulling at the chains on his wrists. "No! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! NO!"

"Son, remember this is to help you. You must punish your physical body and plead for forgiveness." He kneeled down besides harry. "God, our savior will forgive your sins if you let him in and expel all sinful thoughts."

Harry cried out when he felt the whip snap at his back. Falling to his knees, he felt the lash of two more strikes. Blood burst from his lower lip when he bit into it around the fifth lash.

He shook his head wildly, gasping at the pain he was feeling. Harry tried to curl up into a ball but the chains wouldn't let him.

Pulling, he shrieked as he felt the whip finally break open his shirt and pierce skin.

Harry sobbed harder, chest heaving in pants. "Please..."

"Pray, son! Pray! God will help you if you pray for his salvation. Open up your heart to him."

Harry gasped as he felt another lash. How could he pray when he could barely keep a hold on a single thought? Harry was struggling to remember his own name through the pain.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Father Patrick pulled away. "Sister Mary, I think we're almost done for today."

'For today!' Harry's mind caught.

Patrick continued, "Bring a wet wash cloth and some antibiotic ointment ." He heard her quickly shuffle out of the room. Harry sagged in relief.

Gasping Harry struggled to clear his hazy mind, blinking away the black spots in his eyes. Harry felt his consciousness slowly start to slip away. He turned to look over his shoulder and froze at the scene.

He saw Patrick reach into the black bag once again. Pulling out a long black poker – no not a poker. The end of the long metal rod was shaped to look like a metal cross. Flicking his eyes towards the fireplace, Harry heart stopped. "No..." He whispered.

Father Patrick's eyes met his green ones. "Oh yes. You need a reminder. A reminder of why we did this in the first place and why we are fighting to save your soul. The demons that stalk you also need the reminder. This is the only way to keep them at bay." He explained as he took the metal rod and placed the end of it in the fire.

Harry felt desperation claw up at him, "No. Please Father! I'll be good. Nothing will happen again I promise! There are no demons I promise..." Harry sobbed, nothing was going to save him.

Patrick ignored his plea and continued to wait for the cross to heat up, "Okay … almost – done." He declared, but as soon as he pulled his hand back, he dropped the metal rod with a yell. Hearing the stick fall into the floor with a sharp clank, Patrick turned to Harry, nursing his red, injured hand to his chest in pain. "You bastard! You did this!"

Harry's eyes widened. "No! No.. I didn't.." He flattened himself against the wall as he saw him step forward.

As soon as Patrick turned to him though, the fireplace behind him burst forward, sparking out tiny bits of flames towards him. Small patches of burnt carpet started appearing around the tall man, causing him to dance in place.

Horrified, the Father backed away quickly, "Wh-what are you doing?" He cried out in agony as a long lick of flame reached out to his leg making him tumble to the floor. Harry saw him start hysterically pat the flames from his leg out but it was to no avail. The flames from the fireplace started spreading across the carpet, engulfing the man. Patrick scraped and clawed at the floor trying to get further away, twisting his body in angles that just weren't possible.

Not able to cover his hears, Harry heard his yells pierce his eardrums. Cringing, Harry tried to look away but stared in a mixture of fear and fascination as his skin turned into a mix of red and black. Father Patrick writhed in pain, contorting his limbs inhumanly and choking on his own tongue. All that Harry could see from what could be identified as human were his two eyes that stared straight into Harry's own. A black hand started reaching towards him but Harry only stared fearfully. Soon, the body stilled.

Harry was startled when he heard the frantic yells of Sister Mary approach. He saw her burst through the door madly and did a double take at the scene, hand going to her heart. "Oh, God!" She shook her head and immediately dove aside to vomit. Silent tears streamed down Harry's cheeks, ears still ringing from the man's yells long after his death and the Sister's cries. By the time he noticed that the flames had not stopped, it was already too late, the fire had curled its way up the walls, stretching across the ceiling.

Thinking that the fire was coming by his own sense of fear and instincts, Harry closed his eyes and willed himself to calm down. Maybe the fire will die down as soon as his body doesn't feel in danger anymore. He felt sweat trickle down his face, the heat burning his skin and breaking his concentration.

Harry opened his eyes and panicked at the increasing flames, inhaling a mouthful of the smoke. It didn't work. Through the burning of his eyes and lungs, he croaked out, "Sister Mary! Please help me! The fire is nearing closer to me!"

She looked at him for a second and then proceeded to shake her head. "Your the devil. Go back to hell." She spat and backed out the door.

"No!" He yelled. "Please, help me!" He whimpered, looking back at the growing flames. They were completely out of control. He pulled at the chains, twisting his wrist to try to slip out. No luck.

With air becoming thicker, Harry was finding it hard to breath and see past the smoke. He shrunk down, curling himself into a ball, staring at the figure where Father Patrick's body lay – well what was left of it.

"Harry?! Harry, where are you?!"

Harry's head snapped to the door. "Georgie?!" Harry sputtered through his coughs, "Georgie, over here!"

He could barely believe his eyes when the small boy appeared in the door way. Georgie looked around wildly, eyes widening at the dead body of Father Patrick. Shacking his head, he took in Harry's hunched, bloody figure. "HARRY!" Georgie cried out.

Harry gritted his teeth, trying to stay conscious long enough to get out of here. "Go find something to pick at the lock! Quickly..."

Georgie nodded and ran back out.

"Hurry, Georgie!" Harry yelled, flames already flicking at his feet.

Georgie came back flying in the burning room a second later with a cry. Harry gasped at the giant ax in his hand and tried to throw himself out of the way. A moment later, Harry realized that Georgie managed to use the momentum in running to break the chain. Honestly, he couldn't feel all the relieved at the moment. "Are you crazy?!" He screamed hysterically, voice cracking. "That thing is too heavy! You would've taken my whole arm!"

"Well I figured this will do it! I don't think I even know how to pick a lock!" Georgie breathed, "Okay... one more time..." He said looking at the chain hooking his other arm to the wall.

Harry shook his head and saw him run out of the room again. This kid was going to kill him! He stared wildly, eyes widening when Georgie repeated the previous performance and came flying in. "Ahhhh!"

Harry closed his eyes and looked away sharply. As soon as he felt the tension from the chain hooked on the wall leave, he snapped his wrists to his chest, massaging the blisters that were forming. "Thank you, Georgie." He whispered, voice raspy and hoarse.

Georgie nodded, hugging him and helping him to his feet as much as he could. "Come on! We have to get out of here!" He pulled him out of the burning room, limping straight through the adjoining office, and into the hall outside. "Jesus!"

Harry stared at the chaos in front of him, gasping for fresh air that was non-existent. "I thought – I thought it was only in there..." He trailed off and looked at the scene before him. The was black smoke and fire covering the ceiling entirely, yells coming in from every direction. A sister, completely covered in fire ran past Harry, shrieking at the top of her lungs. Agonized screams flooded Harry's senses, overwhelming him.

"We-we have to run, Georgie." He said, pulling the shocked boys arm as he began to run, dodging broken debris falling onto them. Adrenaline pumped his body as he struggled to make his way down the halls, dodging panicked and crying children. He didn't want to die this way.

The flames kept climbing high, spreading to each room and burning everything in its wake. Harry continued running along with Georgie, both boys being pushed and shoved by the other kids. Bodies, some Harry was just able to recognize were littered on the floor, flames engulfing their bodies. Cornelia, Krissy, Dan, Arnie...

They were all dead.

Covering his nose with his sweater, Harry motioned Georgie to do the same. Georgie held unto his hand like his life depended on him, not caring for the long broken chain that kept smacking his arms and legs. "We have to make it to the exit!" He yelled over all the shouts.

Georgie nodded and ran with him. Both boys tried to ignore the screams of their friends, dodging the hallways that were completely filled with fire and fallen rubble. The fire was appearing sporadically, spreading faster than normal. It was like it was alive.

Suddenly a body flew into Harry, and George, knocking them both down. Looking up he was met with a group of running kids and a frantic Sister Grissel. She gasped when she saw him, "Harry! Harry we must get out of here!" She grabbed his arms and yanked him up, tucking him into her side.

"NO!" Harry gasped, eyes staring madly at her.

"Harry!" He turned to the shout, seeing Georgie still on the ground.

"Wait, wait, Sister Grissel! Georgie! Georgie, grab my hand!" He stretched his arm out and sighed in relief when his fingers intertwined with his. Georgie smiled at him, but cried when they were suddenly separated by another person barreling in between both their hands. "Georgie, come on!" Harry tried pulling away from the woman, disgusted by her touch. "LET GO OF ME!"

She growled and yanked him towards her, picking him up completely off his feet. Harry's heart stopped. "No! NO!" Her strong perfume engulfed him and her hands were everywhere. Harry clenched his eyes shut and tried to breath. It felt as if no air was going into his lungs. He deepened his breaths, struggling to breathe. It was all too much, the pain in his body, her touch, the burning flames. Black dots appeared into his vision.

Now I see fire

Inside the mountains

"Calm down, we're almost there, baby. Just breath."

I see fire

Burning the trees

Harry turned his wide eyes to her, seeing her smile at him.

I see fire

Hollowing souls

No,... but Georgie. Harry thought as he finally succumbed to darkness.

I see fire

Blood in the breeze

Really hoped you enjoyed this chapter :) Please review!