The group of five exited the large fireplace into a large white room lined with other fireplaces of vary size. The floor was composed of bleached linoleum and many dirtied welcome mats. Several large signs in bold purple font lined the wall near the door to the main lobby of the hospital, telling the visitors to please wipe their shoes on the mats. They did so, and all the soot was magically wiped from their person. Nichelle hurried through the door, through the waiting room and up to yet another secretarial witch. Sorry, welcome witch, though she did not look too welcoming. The quartet of Aurors followed calmly behind her.

"What room is Modecai DeVera in?" she said in a rushed demand to the witch. She had never seen this one before, the witch was probably new, yet she wore the same tired expression as her many predecessors.

"There is no Modecai DeVera registered here," the witch said in a bored tone, not bothering to look at her records.

"Maybe if you turned the pages of those lists there, or actually gave a damn about the patients in this hospital, you'll find out where my husband is." Nichelle hissed.

The welcome bitch was beginning her retort when Nichelle was gently pushed away from the counter and replaced with a menacing, seven foot, scowling wizard.

"I'd like you to tell me," Oliver whispered as he pulled out a silver angular badge with a large "M" and flashed it in her face, "where the two Aurors that entered here at 0300 hours have gone."

"U-up stairs..."

"What floor." Demand, not question.

"Fourth floor, r-room 435," she squeaked, eyes down to her desk.

The quartet began to walk toward the lifts with Nichelle in the center, all looking very much like her bodyguards. They entered the lift and Nichelle turned to see many of the patients and visitors in the waiting room giving them all an odd look before the gate closed. Marcus pressed the fourth floor button and they began to ascend.

"Oliver, Marcus, what the hell is going on? What happened to Modecai? Why don't you already know? Why didn't anyone get me?!

"Your husband is not injured Nichelle," Oliver said softly. He should have told her earlier, it was better she be as calm as possible, he knew her wrath. "There was another casualty."

"The second Auror?" she asked, remembering what he had said to the welcome witch.

"No."

They exited the lift and walked down a very different hallway from the rest of the floors she had ever seen. The white brick walls were splashed with bright colors and pictures of animals, mythical creatures, stars, balloons and other childlike decorations. A bulletin board decorated with children's drawings posted events and classes for infant and childcare, yearly vaccination potions, and new cold, flu, and rash potions for the season recently approved by the head healers. A large window showed a room with newborns, some screaming out their lungs, the other completely dead to the world, while many lime-clad healers tended to them.

"A-are we in a children's ward? Why?"

The wizards did not say anything, but led her to the last door on the right of the hall. They stopped in front off a thick oak door and waited for her go through. She gulped.

"What am I going to find on the other side of this door?"

"Open it."

Nichelle let out a breath she did not know she had held, and slowly turned the doorknob.

She entered a forest themed play area; the walls painted to depict deciduous trees, flowers, shrubs and grass. Large and small stuffed animals of the forest littered the green and brown-carpeted half of the room, as well as blocks, picture books, and miniature boats and trains. The other half of the room was tile, the walls an off white, filled with a few straight-backed chairs for parents and healers to sit in and a counter with papers, notices and pamphlets neatly piled. Two healers were discussing in low whispers in this area, while in the play area a redheaded healer witch was kneeling down and talking in a soothing voice to someone she could not see. Nichelle edged closer and finally spotted her husband sitting cross-legged on the floor with someone in his lap. He had cuts and scrapes along his jaw and large arms; blood, sweat and earth stained his robes. But he was not in any immediate danger, not compared to the small child in his arms.

The child was very small, emaciated and was sitting stock still within Mordecai's arms. Her blonde hair was ragged and dirtied with soil and dried blood, twisted in twigs and leaves. In some places her hair came down to the child's hips, in others it looked like it had been torn from her skull. Where her skin was not covered in red blotches, purple bruises, cuts, scrapes, hole marks and scars, it was a sickly, nearly transparent white. It looked as though she had never had a bath in the four or five years she had been alive, many of her wounds looked infected, she had dirt and blood under her fingernails. The robe she wore may have been any beautiful color at one point, but was now mucked with grasses and mud and crimson splashes, the edges and sleeves were torn and worn in many places. She wore no shoes, her feet small, hardened and blistered and mud coated. She did not scream; she did not need to, as her turquoise eyes stared out unblinkingly in absurd terror.

Nichelle put her hands to her mouth in a silent gasp, yet the girl somehow heard her, and shrunk further into her husband's arms. The healer witch did not look away from the child as Modecai acknowledged the presence of his wife with a shift of his eyes. Instead the healer continued to murmur to the child.

The two other lime green clad healers in the room, a witch and a wizard, took Nichelle's arm and pulled her to the opposite side of the room to the adult area, past the counter and out of sight of the little girl. They led her through a door to a small branching room and the witch softly closed the door.

"We did not expect you to be here Ms. DeVera-" began the wizard.

"Always expect me to come after my husband," she said, voice hard.

"Yes well…the situation is much different than anything you may have foreseen-"

"Who is that child? Who the hell could've done something like that to a little girl?"

"We're not at liberty to discuss that matter-" the witch began to say, but was cut off by an agitated Nichelle.

"The hell you are! That girl looks like she's been tortured since she breathed her first breath! Where did she come from?"

"This matter is not open to discussion," glared the wizard, still grasping her arm as she made an attempt toward the door, "She is now under the custody of the Department of Welfare of Magical Children, who will see to her full recovery. You have no business here."

"My husband carried in that child didn't he?! I'm willing to bet anything that you or your department can't do anything to make her let go of his arm, except more trauma." It was all she could do to try and pull her arm free from the wizard healer's grasp. She may have to resort to something violent.

"I can assure you she will be fine in the hospital's care. Now, we will have security escort you out," the witch spat.

"No need for that. She has her own security," came Marcus from behind the witch.

"You are not allowed in this room, sir, and you do not have the authority in this kind of situation," said the wizard healer.

"Maybe you should all start worrying about your patient before you worry about the amount of authority I have," dead panned Marcus.

Nichelle had moved toward the door back to the other room while Marcus and the wizard argued and opened it to find the fourth Auror that had escorted her, next to an unfamiliar face and Oliver.

"Quietly Nichelle, sit over here," the fourth Auror motioned to an empty seat. "My name is Kikkarus, this is Archer," he motioned towards the unfamiliar man. "He, along with your husband and the four of us went on a mission yesterday investigating an old murder case, actually, a series of murder cases."

"A serial killer?"

"Um... I don't think cereal has anything to do with-"

"Yes," interrupted the young black Auror, "We've been tracking several incidents linked to one area, and they also have another similarity." Kingsley glanced toward the small girl on the opposite side of the room.

"...No!"

"Yes..."

"My god!" Someone out there, someone so cruel, so twisted, as to kill, as to murder...children.

"That is enough!" said the witch healer, entering from the branching room. "She has no part in any of this, none of you do! Get out now, we will take care of the child, help her calm down and treat her for any lasting traumatic stress or abuse she has procured. She will become a nice, normal, socially functional girl. Now stand aside!"

The pepper headed witch stormed through them over to the other side of the room to the play area, and knelt down to take the place of the younger healer.

The child screamed out in blood curdling terror.

All the Aurors visibly flexed and quicker than possible had their wands pointed to the two women healers near the girl. Mordecai clutched her closer and away from the healers.

"Honey, please speak to us! Please calm down; she won't hurt you!" said the young red headed healer, "Healer Norlin and I want to help you."

But the child only screamed louder when Norlin's face came into sight again. The red headed healer continued to consol the child.

"Let her scream and get it out, Helena. Once she sees I am not a threat, she will open up to us."

"But Linda..." Helena awkwardly moved aside, and again Healer Linda Norlin was in full view of the girl.

She screamed her loudest yet. Before they had time to react to the blast of sound, she had let go of Mordecai's arm, had run through the adults' legs and out through the door of the adjoining room.