"Harry! Oh, God, Harry! Wake up!" Hermione's worried voice drifted into Harry's head. Why was everything so loud? His head hurt so much, what had happened?

"Hermione, is that you? Oh, my head." Harry's voice trailed as he felt upon his forehead, and realised that there was blood. This time, his scar did break open. Realisation suddenly hit Harry like Dobby's rogue bludger. "Oh, God! Where's Pavarti? Where's Padma? Ginny? Where are they?" Harry got up, and ran towards a crouched Ron. He was standing over what seemed to be a very white matchstick. This, he realised, was Ginny. "Oh, no. Oh, please, God, no!'" He ran and almost toppled over Ron as he took Ginny's very cold hand in his. He felt for a pulse, it was very slow. "Ron, Hermione! Get a hot blanket, and a pillow. Ron, she needs your help. CPR, c'mon! Hurry, we might lose her!" He spun around as he saw Ron, tears pouring down his face.

"Harry, she's going to die. Voldemort blasted her in half." True were his words, as Harry looked down at Ginny's stomach, which wasn't there. Ginny was still alive, but going fast. She opened her lips, as Harry, crying himself, now, heard her say: "Diary, Harry.I'm so sorry." She faded, and Harry let out a moan of grief for the beautiful white figure that was a dead Ginny. Ron just sat and cried. Many would say that a man never cries, but this was Ron Weasley, and Harry noted him as the strongest man for not crying before. But Ron sat crumpled on the floor, heaving with silent sobs. Harry scoured the dance floor, for any sign of Padma and Pavarti. Half his heart was already gone at the loss of Ginny, but maybe, if they were alive, he could salvage that half. He saw bodies, headless, armless, legless, some, like Ginny, stomach less. He saw half-bodies, bodies dying with no one there for them, and bodies bleeding silently. He would never forget the sight, of Padma Patil's look of utter shock, as she was lifted onto a stretcher, and got a full view of her sister. Beautiful Pavarti Patil was lying on the ground, blood-soaked, and dead. Harry screamed a scream never meant to be heard on this earth. It was a scream of grief, anger, death, and a broken heart. He turned wildly, lost in a world of grief, loneliness, sadness, and death. He saw Hermione, going to every body doomed to die, holding their hands, and singing softly. The song was soothing, labelled as a cradlesong. He saw Ron, cradling Ginny's head in his lap, weeping for the loss and love of his sister. He saw bodies, mutilated by Voldemort. Voldemort. This was his fault. His love, his friends, and innocent strangers were dead because of him. He felt overwhelming hatred toward Tom Marvolo Riddle. Harry was murderous, filled with rage, sadness, and love for the remaining living. He felt compassion, as well as fury. He looked down, seeing the dead, dying, and horribly injured. He thought, many will be blinded, amputees without will, shell-shocked. He was so sorry. He saw paramedics come in with stretchers. He heard nothing. A ringing in his ears was insistent. He bent down next to a dying man, and held his hand until he slipped away to meet the Black God.