The nights seemed endless as the early hours intertwined with the darkness of these times. No wizard dared to walk the land as they feared for their lives in each corner. Even now, as the dark lord's downfall was spreading all through out the wizarding community.
"It has been said before; you are not the only one who has come to this door with this sort of news. Five years have passed since he had risen once again, more wicked and deadly than before," snarled an old bone of a woman as she tried to close her shop door upon the hooded stranger. "Listen you, mad woman; what I say to you is true, for I have seen it with my own eyes. Now let us in, we have wounded and need access to your flew powder immediately or the lives of there Aurous shall rest on your hands for all eternity."
Her old dried up heart skipped a beat as the words rang through her mind. It was not smart to trust strangers in these parts, less alone in the twilight of the hour. Yet as she looked beyond the stranger she noticed four approaching shadows. As the moonlight hit them, she noticed two seemed to be in pretty bad shape as a third was barely able to carry the forth in its arms. Even in critical shape they managed to hold their wands, never once letting their guard down. She held her breath at the sight for one last time before closing the door on them. The one who spoke stood in disbelief as an uneasy silence took over the group, only to be swiftly replaced by the ringing of chains and a key turning.
"If you are lying, know this, I shall not go down with out a fight." was the greeting of the old woman as she allowed them in. Allowing his companions to enter first, the hooded stranger walk in last within the broken down shop walls. Looking behind him one last time, he walked towards her and smiled lightly as his face came to view. His face was young yet worn out, a living journal of many nights of torment and worn out battles, yet his eyes were soft and kind. "We would not expect anything less dear grandma." While she turned to look at him her own worn out eyes met his gaze. She almost froze in wonder. Those eyes looking back at her were that of emerald green behind dark framed glasses. Yet what took her breath was the lightning bolt shaped scar over his left eye brow. A visible imprint of his past and future turmoil. With a faint and ghostly voice she managed to say one word "Potter."
"Just Harry, (in times like these one should retain courtesies), other things are of much more importance. Now if you would kindly allow us to use the powder?" he said impatiently as time seemed, so he felt, to be slipping through his fingers.
Without time to waste she nodded and limped towards her kitchen leaving them behind in the main room.
Looking away from them his mind began to wonder around their surroundings. The room was probably no bigger than a doctor's waiting room. "Harry?" one could tell that once a far off time this was once used as a flower shop as old broken pots was on shelves here and there. "Harry..." as his eyes continued to scan the room, his mind softly seemed to wonder into a far off place as his eyes landed on the old half fallen chimney. A blurry image of a grand frame of a man hovering over a burning fire sturing something in a cooking caldron began to appear before his eyes. A half sad smile appeared on his dried up lips as the image became clear. How long had it been since he had last thought of Hagrid? He could not recall. "Harry?" How many times had he and his best friends gone into the old cottage for one reason or another to talk with the lovable giant? Even though more or less of speaking trying not to hurt his feelings as they tried not to eat and avoid any of his cooking.
"Harry!" Pulled harshly back to reality the image of his old friend was snatched from view as it was replaced by a young man around his own age with fiery red hair, his eyes half gone into insanity. "Harry snap out of it, we are loosing her." Harry's heart skipped a beat. "But, she.. She was in a better shape before? Was she not stable when we arrived here? What happened Ronald?" Ron Weasly looked at him lost. "How should I know? She isn't responding. We have to teleport. I … I know its dangerous but we have no other choice. There is no time to waste." Harry was about to protest, though he knew they had to do something. Turning, he looked into each face, before him stood Hermione Ganger, his second best friend. She had deep cuts on her left arm and a couple of scratches on her face, and as worn out as the others. Beside her, stood and older man, scared faced and the one who looked worse than the rest. His clothing torn in odd places, Viktor Krum. And on his arms he held a young unconscious woman. Her face showed the agony within as the battled now over still continued in her mind. They all feared for her life, not just because of her surfaced wounds, but more the internal ones.
His eyes watered as they found their way upon her pale face. Caressing her cheek his fingers ran down towards her lips. The texture was so soft and delicate. With a knot in his throat he turned his attention towards them all and sighed "are you all content with the decision?"
Hermione could barely move as she tried to keep from falling. What really worried Harry was Amber; his eyes could not hold back the sadness he felt from looking onto the motionless body as Viktor carried her. He had to take a chance. Even though the last time, he laughed pitifully inside himself for a moment at the very reason why he didn't want to teleport. The incident from years ago pop into his mind.
The things is very simple you see, a teleporting spell only needs three parts for it to work properly. One is you must know exactly where you wish to go; picture it as vividly as possible in your mind. Secondly know the distance; know how close enough or how far it is. And last know how much magical energy to use as you cast the spell. In other words one out of three would not cut it. He knew very well about that in his first attempt to teleport. It had been right after he was able to leave Privet Drive, for good this time. He stood alone in the late hours of a Tuesday night, in one hand an old worn out trunk with all his belongings, and on the other a wand. He had wanted to leave in a hurry before his aunt came looking for him to scream at him for one reason or an other. Earlier that evening, he had received an owl from his best friend Ronald Weasly notifying him that they would be ready for his arrival later on that night. He would be staying with the Weasley's until, well as Mrs. Weasly had put it "until you can stand on your own two feet dear." When he was set and ready, he lifted up his wand and pointed at his head. Closing his eyes the image of a worn down very high building crept into his mind. Not knowing the direction where he should travel towards nor figuring how much magical energy to give the spell he spoke out the incantation and cast the spell.
Though the ending results were not really what he had in mind. He had managed to teleport, leaving some what a part of him back at the front door of Privet Drive. His left arm holding onto the trunk and his right leg would very much found back there. And the first who found them was indeed his aunt Petunia. Her screams would have probably woken up the entire neighborhood if it wasn't for her fainting right after she found the limps as she opened her front door. It took several painful hours until Arthur Weasley managed to put Harry back together, literally, in the end. Since then he swore never to tamper with that spell if he did not have all of the three steps.
But this time was different. His team mates were half wounded, and Amber's condition only seemed to worsen as they wasted time in that room. He looked up hoping the old woman would come, but she was not there. "Very well Ron. Take hold of Hermione and go first. Then Viktor and Amber will follow. I shall stay behind just incase anything goes wrong with the spell." With that each took their turns and teleported to St. Ives Hospital.
The old woman could not believe her luck; would it be considered good fortune? Either way she cared not. Bewildered looking all over the rundown kitchen, from shelves to crack pans and kettles; she finally found the powder inside a green tea pot. With gleaming eyes and a toothless smile she stormed out from within the kitchen almost stumbling over a foot rest " I found it, sorry it… Took so..." the room was completely emptied. Looking around half scared to think of anything she walked across the room and leaned forward to open the door. Freezing as her hand stood in mid air inches from the door knob, her eyes widen as she noticed the locks. Each one was in its place as she had left them, locked. If they had left it would have been hard to leave everything locked from the outside. Could she have imagined it all?
To his amazement as he appeared into the narrow hallway Ron and the others came to view all in one piece. But another thing could defiantly be said about their surroundings as they were greeted with screams of horror.
It seemed more like a war zone as wizards and witches in white robes came and went as no one seemed to truly be getting to their destinations as more and more wounded appeared in the narrow halls. A particular witch stood out vividly in Harry's eyes as she was being rushed into the hall. She looked as if still half trying to understand what was happening to her. One part of her face was soft brown; her eye was honey brown, while the other side of her face was completely distorted as something silver poured out from within the scares on her face. She didn't seem to be screaming in spite of that. Though Harry thought she out to be since her wounds seem deep and painful. All that seemed to flow out of her mouth was a breathless mumble, "she's dead, I couldn't stop it, it just went at her. She's dead." The wizards with her rushed the poor woman towards the Creature-Induced Injuries wing as fast as they could manage it.
"Harry over here!" shouted a familiar voice. "Amber was taken to the Spell Damage in the fifth floor. Come we better hurry and catch up". He nodded and set after Ron towards where a witch in white robes had taken Amber earlier. 'Where's Hermione?" he asked softly as he caught up with Ron a bit worried. They all had scratches, burns here and there, but Hermione seemed in bad shape more than himself and the other two. Ron looked sick to his stomach as he turned to look at him "she was taken under Magical Care a few moments after they took Amber. But I don't know where exactly." Even though Ron tried to hide it, he seemed to be as worried about Hermione Granger as much as Harry was about Amber Potter. The only difference was that Harry had a fleeting hope as he thought to himself that at least everything soon would be over, and that Angel, his and Amber's daughter, was still safe and sound back in Headquarters.
They walked in silence the rest of the way towards the elevator that would take them to the fifth floor.