Standing outside the border of the Forbidden Forest, Gregory stood doubled over holding his knees catching his breath. He had run non-stop to the point where he stood; he would walk through the forest not wanting to attract any unwanted attention. The forest was wide awake; the creatures had been thrown into a war that should have only involved Wizards and Witches. There was no doubting that some of those creatures would kill him if they got the chance, and without his wand he was a walking target. Gregory, breath caught, entered the forest, walking as carefully as he could not wanting to make unnecessary noise.
Heavy boots crunched loudly despite his over exuberant efforts to make little noise. Every step produced loud crunches, which were in part answered by other crunching noises. Damn boots, they're going to get me killed, deciding it would be best to discard his boots he unlaced them, peeled off his socks, and placed them uncharacteristically neatly by a tree. His bare feet, along with carefully placed steps, were near soundless, things around him quitted down some.
The torch Gregory had nicked from the castle spawned ominous shadows, stocking him in the dim glow. Normally he wouldn't have been putting his life in such a life threatening situation for someone other then himself, which was more of a Gryffindor thing. When it came to Vincent though, his best bloke, partner, Gregory was prepared to do anything. Gregory's ears strained to hear any approaching danger; his eyes, though getting progressively worse, flashed from side to side looking for anything askew. It felt as if ages had passed when Gregory finally reached the point that Potter had described to him.
The forest floor was covered in leaves, rocks, pebbles, twigs, and other forest paraphernalia; finding one specific stone in all of the clutter would be a miracle. Needle in a haystack, bloody needle in a haystack, he stepped around looking for a groove that Potter might have left behind. Didn't take him long to give up that plan, drop on all fours and begin looking at each individual stone on the forest floor.
Hours past, the pink light of morning began to shine through the break in the leaves. Gregory's eyes had been heavy with sleep but he shrugged it off, determined to return Vincent to the physical world. About an hour ago his vision had become severely blurred, hindering his efforts to examine each pebble he picked up. Unable to see anything but dark shapes Gregory now turned every pebble three times, waited a minute, and then threw the pebble as far as his aching muscles would allow him.
A branch behind him snapped, fatigued it took Gregory longer then normal to process the branch that had snapped had been close, real close. He jumped to a standing position sending blood straight to his head. Retaining consciousness long enough to see the silhouette of some thing standing in front of him, he fainted.