I do not own any of J.K.'s characters, but I have made up my own. I hope I don't embarrass her, be prepared, cause this is my first fan fiction, even though I've written crap before…. so yah….

Chapter One: Only Time Will Tell

I looked down at the dismantled object. It used to be a cigarette holder, but because of the fight, it was now dented and the intricate design that once gave the cover a certain grace was now scratched and looked almost like a mentally ill artist had tried to attempt an abstract carving into this doomed piece of metal. It strangely gave off a familiar bluish glow, and I decided to leave it for now. At the moment I was preoccupied with finding the bodies of my parents.

My parents were both aurors and their names were Tippy Jessica Herrington, and Godric Leonardo Herrington. But most people called him Rick. They were probably dead now, but it felt as if they were still there, waiting in my bedroom that was now trashed, to reassure me it would all be okay and tuck me into bed, telling me to get some sleep so we could straighten everything out the next day. But it seemed as if there would be no next day; that I was living in a world of eternal darkness. They can't be gone, they can't be gone, is what I kept telling myself as I searched through the remnants of my house, trying to find them, and because I didn't want to think about the absolute worst, I decided to just think they were badly injured, so I could transport them to St. Mungo's, and wait beside their beds.

I wandered into the once familiar kitchen and found and upturned table, and saw a hand poking out of one of the sides. I levitated it and gently placed it right side up a couple feet away. My mother. I bent down and shook her gently. She was pale; I began to breathe heavily. Her eyes cracked open and I bit my lip.

"Mom?" I croaked in a barely audible whisper.

"Anne," she smiled weakly and touched my scraped-up hand. For a single shred of a moment, I thought everything was going to be okay, and brushed the thought away, dead set on not getting my hopes up. I sat in the quietness that seemed to taunt me for a few moments and my mother broke the silence.

"Anne, I want you to promise me something. I want you to promise me you'll go into the living room, and take the portkey. It'll take you someplace safe, and I want you to stay there until some of the members of the order come to pick you up. Here," she said, giving me the locket that she kept around her neck. I didn't need to look inside of it. It was a picture of me and my parents in our front yard. We were jumping in piles of leaves and they were both swinging me on the tire swing hanging from my tree occasionally.

"No, Mom, you're going to be okay, you're going to keep this so when you're in the hospital, you'll have something nice to look at," I said putting the locket back into her frail hand. She looked at me with eyes that were a reflection of mine; ones that told me she was sorry, and that held a certain longing. She nodded her head, just to give me hope. I got up to go find my bat, Kitten, to give her a message to send to St. Mungo's.

"I'll be back Mom, I love you," I said, a bit more strong. She nodded her head. I crept upstairs and saw my father; his body bloody and bruised, sprawled in a strange position near a coat closet on the second floor hallway. He was breathing heavily and his eyes were swollen shut. I used most of my strength to not cry as I limped toward him and kissed him on the cheek.

"I love you Daddy," I said, letting a tear escape my eye, and fall onto his forehead.

"I love you Anna Victoria," he managed to barely whisper.

"I'm going to get help, okay?" I said as he nodded his head as my mother did. He didn't ask about my mother. I guess he thought she was dead, or was going to be soon. There's no hope left, I told myself again as I stumbled most of the way down to the very end of the hall. I approached my ebony door that now hung on its hinges. It looked almost sad. Like a defeated soldier. I gently pushed it open to find my only piece of hope swinging upside down from the hanging light fixture in my room.

"Kitten, come here, I need you to send a message to St. Mungo's," I called to her beckoning her down. She swooped and clamped onto my arm I held out. Usually it hurt because her claws would dig into my skin and leave big scars, but I felt so numb that I didn't notice anything. I guess that's why I didn't cry, because there was no feeling left in my body to process anything; to make myself feel. I found a piece of half-burnt parchment littering my floor and with a broken quill and a cracked bottle of ink, requested help at my address. Suddenly I heard a 'pop' and decided it would be better to hide under something. I didn't know if I would like the presence of another wizard or witch or not; depending on who it was. I was either going to get help, or the situation would worsen. Only time would tell.