Fire.
Fire was everywhere. Climbing the walls, gnawing at the floors, spiraling through the air, taking the form of beasts and creatures. An eagle of flame was swooping down, flying from the burning house toward a tiny figure. Her mother dove forward, wrapping her arms around the child, just as the flames licked her shoulder. They disappeared with a loud crack, appearing in a very different place, many miles away. They were in front of a manor, gardens and hedges around them.
The child began to scream, and her mother bent to comfort her, while shaking with sobs herself.
Now, a slightly hunched figure was hurrying from the manor toward them.
"Elizabella! What happened? Where's Ernest?" The older woman demanded.
The other just sobbed.
"They… th-they came to our house, they tra-trapped us inside! Then, they used Fiendfyre and we… we couldn't get out. I got Bella and smashed a window to get out." Elizabella slumped down onto her knees. "But… but -but I couldn't find him! He was inside! I heard him, but I couldn't reach him! He's gone! Gone! It's been five years since the war was finished! Why now?" She was shrieking, pulling at her once beautiful hair. Suddenly something seemed to occur to her. She looked up, up at the moon. "No. No! No! He can't be dead! Ernest can survive anything!" She staggered to her feet, swaying slightly. "I've got to get him! We have to go!"
She spun as though trying to apparate, but the older woman grabbed her arm, stopping her. "Eliza. If it was really Fiendfyre, then there is nothing we can do." She pulled the younger woman to face her. "We need to accept that."
Elizabella was quiet for a moment, then she spoke, her voice trembling with rage. "How can you say that?! He's your son!" She yelled.
The older woman look as though she had been slapped. Tears welled in her eyes. "I know. But we have to be strong, if not, they have already won this battle. We have to be strong for the family, we have to be strong for the world, but most of all we have to be strong for Bella. She's barely five years old!"
The two women looked at each other, tears running down their cheeks. Eventually, Elizabella nodded. She stooped down and picked up her daughter. She stood and walked towards the manor, leaving the older woman.
The woman looked to the sky. She hoped with all her body, mind and soul that strength was enough.
It was not. Elizabella died two months later. She had been wounded in the fire, but it was really her heart that failed.
She died holding her mother-in-law and daughter's hands.