I don't own Hp or anything familiar.
Chapter 3
The eyes were what caught his attention first. They were exactly the same shade as his own, but livelier and brighter. Next was the hair, long, vibrant, silky red hair. She looked exactly as she did in the photographs he had of her. She was as youthful as she was before she died. It was like she was frozen in time, never ageing, never changing, always exactly the same.
"Mother?" he whispered faintly.
Thoughts swirled around in his head in a rapid pace. "How was this possible? His mother had died when he was one. Was he dead? Why would he need a guardian? Why was he here!"
She smiled gently at him. Sadness filled her heart. Harry had lived such a hard life. He has suffered greatly in his short life…if anyone deserved it; it was him, who deserved a second chance.
"Harry," she hesitated, unsure of how to tell him, "You're not dead…not exactly anyway."
"What do you mean, 'not exactly'?' he interrupted her, desperate for an answer to what was happening.
She continued as if she hadn't been interrupted, "You were brought to the in-between, because, Harry, you are a broken soul."