Creatures of heaven

Chapter 2 - A beat that went backwards

Well then... in case you didn't notice this whole story starts backwards. Not the easiest way of making my point clear, I am aware of that, but as a good friend of mine once said, sometimes you can't understand the beginning of a story unless you know the way it's going to end. I wanted to give you a full picture, so I started with the worst thing I have done in my life.

Attaching strings to everything is one of my many faults. So is over-thinking things. This slightly compulsive side of my character is what made me such a good potion maker though.

However, on the most important day of my life, I turned out to be a not-so-good potion maker after all. I made a small dosage miscalculation when preparing a potion and out of the freaking blue my tomorrow became my yesterday and my today melted in with a tomorrow I had never dreamed of and all of a sudden it was up to strangers to decide whether I would even have a future at all.

In other words, I fucked up pretty bad that day.

4 August 1995
- 16 years and 6 months later -
Number 12, Grimauld Place
London

The door of the kitchen opened and Harry's escort got in one by one, with serious faces on and curt nods. You glance over their shoulders, trying to take a glimpse of Harry himself…

No, no such luck! Molly was probably already fussing over him. That woman never seizes to amaze you, telling everyone just how peaky they always look! A little inward smile comes to you at the thought. Still, you sigh and look around just for the sake of moving your eyeballs. Everyone is there, the Weasleys, the escort, Dumbledore, Snape… in all 15 people. It is clear that this meeting is going to be important. You sneer inwardly. Snivelus is probably going to report…

You just can't wait until this meeting is over so that you can meet your godson. It's not like you are much needed in here anyway since you don't do anything but listen to other people report stuff and plan strategies for actions you can't take part in. You want to fight, do something more than this… this sitting around on your ass all God damn day inside these walls…

You close your eyes slowly and pinch the bridge of your nose. You so don't want to get into that line of thought right now. Just focus on something else. Something else in your life right now, something good. It's not so difficult to find it. The only thing that makes sense, the only good thing in your life these days is wrapped up in one person: Harry.

Harry is important, you should focus on that. Just like his father before him, Harry is the one thing that has you pulling through, that gives you a reason. Harry Potter's existence effects every decision you make in your life – which is not that surprising since he is the only part of you that means something. Like everything you have to do, you have to do it so that that kid can be a little happier. And you like it this way, you want it this way. You would rip your own back to shreds to make Harry's life even a little better… because you have too much to make up for when it comes to Harry Potter.

A voice that sounds more like a grunt interrupts your thoughts.

"Mission completed. Outcome, positive."

Tonks snorts as she comes to sit at your left. However, her irritation is interrupted when she trips over the side of the carpet in mid-snort. Your hand shots up along with Remus', to steady her. She gives you both an apologetic smile, and receives 'the look' from Molly.

"Well, we didn't soak our bones or go though the North Pole. Considering the circumstances…" and she gives a meaningful look to Moody "… that translates into bloody brilliant for me!"

You dare a small smile at her words. People in the room wouldn't trust your colorful cousin with boiling water and few would dare cross Moody about anything, but it was obvious that the escort internally agreed with Tonks.

"Thank you, all of you, for volunteering for this assignment." Dumbledore's voice made everyone around the table stand perfectly still and quiet and even thought you don't really like the man right now, you are straining to know what he has to say.

"Now that we are all here, we can discuss out latest findings. Severus, please, if you will …" Snape advances into the light of the many candles, from the previous dark corner he had been. His skin has a different hue in the candle light, like he is made of wax, though personally you have a always thought he was just plain dirty. If the git could get more unwashed then he would set a world record. Yet, he is still the same, still looking as slithering and slimy as always. Too bad that not many agreed with you out loud on that.

oOoOoOo

45 minutes later
Still in the meeting…

"... I'm not just talking about frontal attacks. What about the sidelines? Damage their resources, as we used to before. Something to weaken them - like this prophecy! We should just destroy it before he ever gets his hands on it!"

"There are powerful spells that protect that thing, Black. Doing it is not as easy as it is talking about it from a chair." Snape's words were like razorblades that cut through your very skin. Your hands ball into fists and you know that if this isn't going to end soon, you won't waste time with wands; you will simply smash your fist into Snivelus's mouth, do everyone a favor and break all his rotten teeth.

"If I were Voldemort, I'd send someone to get it for me." Tonks said loudly, probably trying to bend the topic away from you and Snape, seeing that you were busy glaring each other to death.

"…Showing up in the middle of the atrium would probably be quicker, but there's no way he's gonna do that! He is having too much fun seeing the world turn against us!" Tonks continues as Arthur starts dividing timetables and coordinates for everyone. They are preparing the protection detail for Harry during his hearing day at the ministry. It stings your core that you can't be with him that day. That you can't be out there, shielding him, as you were supposed to.

It wasn't that you didn't trust security. After all, how could you not: Dumbledore himself would find a reason to be there, and thank god for that. Fudge's sense of justice these days wasn't to be trusted anymore than Voldemort's was. It's just that you should be there too. Between Harry and anything that wants to harm him is the only place where you belong.

"Alastor, we will need your…" But Dumbledore stops in mid sentence and turns his head to his right, his face suddenly rigid, brows furrowed, eyes sharp. The next moment, too many things happened in a couple of seconds.

Something that sounds very much like a distant explosions penetrates the sudden silences of the kitchen. It sounds distant, but the ground shakes as if it happened right under your feet. You flinch as a sharp pain shoots through your skull like a drilling job was being worked on it and a scream tunes in, like the person that was emitting it was far away and traveling with great speed towards you. Then with a loud bang, something very much like a body smashes on the table shaking its old wood, sliding through it and ending up on the floor, sending papers flying everywhere. Its as if it fell right through the ceiling or something! The echo of the scream hadn't even died out yet but 15 wands were pointed in the bodies direction.

"Please! Refrain yourselves from anything rash." You hear Dumbledore says in a very stern and much louder than usual voice, and the strong control in his tone is the only thing that stops you from doing anything. You are far from calm as you breathe hard, trying to keep your wince to yourself. You head still hurts, you are confused and you heart is leaping around in your chest as if it wants out, but there is also something else on your mind.

Something happened. There is someone in the room. Someone that wasn't there before. The thing is laying on the ground, all wrapped in folds of black cloak, nothing much visible about it, except for the fact that it looks small.

There was a thin smoke coming off it, like slow fog rising from the ground of London at early hours of the winter morning. But this wasn't fog. It looked a lot like fire-smoke. One glance and you realize that you are right. The lower part of the cloak is burned to shreds and you see what you suppose is a leg, all red and black, bleeding, looking like a raw stake with black blotches. The feet were bare… and burned to the crisp. The sight is almost enough to make you gag. The smell actually does it, but you resist bringing your hand up to shield your nose from it. You've had worse.

You see Dumbledore put down his wand and approach, finding a thin wrist under a few pieces of black cloth. From the structure of the forearm and fingers, you'd say that's a female lying down there… and for a moment you think of Bellatrix.

But that was nonsense. The entire situation was absurd. And getting close to that body was too risky even for one such as Dumbledore.

"Hestia, would you mind telling me if this is a pulse I am hearing?" Dumbledore said calmly and the healer approaches quickly to check. You wach her move without hesitation and you know where that security comes from: it is difficult to feel threatened when someone like Dumbledore is standing right by your side. Even if the being a healer wouldn't have taught Hestia to keep herself always collected and calm, Dumbledore's aura would have had that exact effect.

Hestia expertly runs her hands down the figure, finds the head and carefully moves the person on its back. You were right, it was a woman under there – well, a girl really - , you can tell by the long hair, but her face is so fucked up that it makes her look like she has been through a meat-grinder. Hestia finds the neck, and puts two fingers there, listening intently. She nods, but her brows clamp down on her forehead.

"She is fibrillating… Someone bring me my bag!" Hestia's actions were almost mechanical as waved her wand over the unknown woman's chest, making sparks erupt from her wand; the intruder's body convulsed as if she was being electrocuted.

"She's going into cardiac arrest." you hear Hestia whisper as more spells came out of her wand non-stop. Her lips moved so fast they almost seemed like they were trembling. With her free hand Hestia grabbed a long needle from her black bag and brought it up over the stranger's chest as if it was a dagger.

With a movement so swift that it almost startles you, Hestia plunges the needle straight into the intruders chest and pushes the piston home, shooting the potion straight into the girl's heart.

It almost looked like Hestia had stabbed her.

The body of the girl stops shaking and you think for a moment that this nonsensical situation is going to stop spinning and explain itself. You release a breath you didn't know you'd been holding and stare at the healer who rapidly checks for a pulse.

"Dam it." Hestia hisses and in a second you understand: the unmoving condition of the body on the floor is due to its death.

Death would be welcome, in a way – though certainly not for the intruder. But objectively speaking, death is ordinary, you think. It would be a shot of normalcy that would maybe unthread this ridiculous situation.

But Hestia is a lot more persistent that you are. She moves furiously and fast. Tears the fabric open on the stranger's chest and start's with a complexion of spells that you can't follow, the tip of her wand directly pressed over the girl's heart. After a minute or two, when it was clear that there was nothing to be done and you were about o say as much, Hestia hissed a very intricate chain of oaths that you didn't think the usually composed and so proper-looking woman had in her.

She fell silent and kept murmuring, until something akin to a bolt of lightning exploded from her wand.

The electric shock arched the body off the ground - once, and again, and again.

Hestia was about to discharge a forth when she stopped in mid-spell. She felt for a pulse and just like that, you see her shoulders relax.

"I have a pulse." Hestia whispered, to nobody in particular even though everyone was listening without daring to breathe too loudly. "It's faint, but it's there." And as she spoke, she got busy with the exam and stabilization of the patient's condition, perhaps hoping that the kid didn't crash again.

"She'll have to be in intensive care for a few days." Hestia continued.

You glance at the girl's face. She was so beaten and bloodied that her features looked rearranged, something that was yearning to be human, but that was not quite there yet. the intruders face reminded him of a mandrake root, if he were honest with himself. The thought struck him as odd and ridiculous, but then he consoled himself: odd and ridiculous would fit right in with the situation t hand.

Still, the more you stared at that almost-face, the brighter that sparkle of strange familiarity shone, prickling at the sidelines of your memory. You had seen that sight before, you thought. Strange that you should think so... but not really, not that strange after all. You have seen some pretty fucked up shit in your time.

But a girl half beaten to death and almost burned alive was too strange eve for you. Much too incredible were the circumstances of her appearance.

But she was here none the less.