Chapter 6
Her mind was not yet asleep though her eyes were tightly shut. A noise came from her left sounding like a swift scrape against the carpeted floor. Rustling of a nearby bed sheet followed by a surprised muffled yelp told her something was amidst. Sensing a strong presence amongst them, she opened her eyes discovering nothing but darkness slightly different than the darkness that consumed her in her sleep. Soundlessly, she turned her head slowly to meet the gaze of the intruder. Quickly tossing a smaller figure to his side, he raised his wand in order to rid the world of her. Before the intruder could even mumble a spell, Kyra flung her hand in his direction and with a voice not her own, yelled an unknown incantation. Many heads popped up, but quickly fell in fright. Fire spread from Kyra's fingertips and engulfed its prey in a blinding firestorm.
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Screams and shouts awoke him with a start. The old wizard gathered his wand and heavy forest green cloak as he marched in the direction of chaos outside his door.
'Chaos' was definitely an understatement. Total vanquishment of the opposing room and the hallway before him was more like it. As he gazed into the darkness of the night, fire lit the eerie sky atop numerous houses and trees. Anything that got in the spells path was destroyed. Bewilderment spread across his face. Who could possibly be powerful enough to conjure up such a destructive spell? Only one soul that he knew of could perform such a spell as this. Confusion clouded his thoughts. It just isn't possible. The man died years ago. Yet... could it be? Kyra?... No, impossible. Her soul would not be able to handle such power. It is even said to be more powerful than the Avada Kedavra curse. Said to be? No. He has seen it. He has seen its power and even he, Albus Dumbledore, is afraid of it.
A sudden jerk of his shoulder brought him back to reality. Releasing his attention from his thoughts, he turned to stare into the scorched chambers. Thick, black smoke emerged from the never-ending blaze of fire. Muggles and wizards alike, brought canisters brimmed with icy water to distinguish the flames from Hell, but to no avail.
Covering his nose and mouth with his thick cloak, he leapt into the room to find any survivors. Noticing an unconscious body sprawled onto the floor, he levitated the limp body off the ground and into his frail arms. No other bodies could be seen inside the smoke-filled room. As he exited the hotel room, he casually glanced at the faces before him.
They all looked alike. Every face was covered in a thick layer of dirt from the smoke. It didn't matter if you were white or black, muggle or wizard, every single soul looked no different than the one standing next to it. A grin played across his lips as he realized this.
Finally, a man came up to Albus lending him a hand with the injured in his arms. Releasing them of their responsibility was very much appreciated as Albus stretched them to their full extent letting his arms relax.
As he searched through the injured, he spotted a very familiar face. "Molly, my dear! Are you alright?" He rushed to her side as she lay on a stretcher. Second degree burns spread up her arms and around to her back. Her hair scorched (which, to Albus, looked almost ridiculous, but decided not to laugh, despite himself, at the sight of her fringed, and now brown, hair) and her eyes were vacant.
"Albus? Er... Is everyone okay? Are my children okay? Please, Albus tell me!" With every word her upper body rose a little more off the stretcher. Albus smiled and nodded gently. "And Arthur and Harry and Hermione and Kyra, too?" Her eyes now filled with more worry.
"Yes, Molly. Everyone is safe. Please, you must rest." He laid a hand on her brow as she fell back, reassuring her. Eyes softening, she looked up at the sky as she was taken into the back of an ambulance.