Death POV

As said I have said before, I will be skipping many colors so I don't bore you. The next death that was unfairly distributed, was of a young boy named Fred Weasley. His flamed family hair stood out even with dust still mixed in. His family grieved over him and I watched them with heartbroken eyes. I saw Harry Potter standing there guilt apparent with his posture.

With a sad sigh, I watched as his soul sit up and meet me. The best ones always do. I watched the contents of his soul, I watched him drop a spider on Ronald, I watched as he threw dungbombs with his brother at the ripe age of 12, I stood mystified as I watched the amount of gore and pain he endured at just the age 16, I watched his and George's valiant attempts to be a bright light in the dark world. After watching these few memories, I saw that he was so attached to his brother and cared so deeply for his family.

I saw that he truly was a light to the darkness, only his light was red instead of a lemon color. Red, it symbolized his love for his family, his wild hair color, and all the pain that he and his family endured. It showed his love and compassion. I wish that I could leave him, but, my job didn't work that way. As I have stated before I do not enjoy my job, so this is painful to say.

As I walked out of the destroyed castle, I looked up at the sky, and let out a contented sigh. The color?

It was Red.

I was close to crying after writing this! Disclaimer: Do not own The Book Thief or Harry Potter. ~Prongs