The following is the testimony of a Portkey.

From atop the hill, I can see along the forest, the fir trees and looming elms clustered together in a sea of green. The landscape dips down into a valley, where a light haze has settled for the night, yet to be awoken and chased away by the slowly rising sun. The dawn sky is gray and blue and, towards the far horizon, showing the beginning hints of pink and orange. All is still and serene. I listen to the early birds fluttering around and singing their morning songs. I feel the soft grass beneath me.

I absorb all of this as much as I can, for it is the first and last time I shall see, hear, and feel. Someone has awoken me from my death, enchanting my worn leather and frayed stitching to create a device for transporting someone to somewhere. I don't know of the time I shall depart, nor of the people who will come to use me, but I do know that once it ends, I will return to being a useless old boot yet again.

The tranquility of the woods is shattered by the sound of approaching voices. In a moment, a group of people appear at the bottom of the hill and make their way up. The majority have orange hair and freckles. The eldest redhead, plausibly the father of them, is speaking with a man without the fiery hair. Beside him is a handsome young man. A girl with a mess of brown hair walks alongside a redhead boy, and they're joined by a black-haired boy with circular glasses.

I realize with some sadness that it's almost time for my new life to end. I wish the trees farewell before turning my attention back to the people. They gather in a circle around me, watching, waiting. They murmur to each other. I watch their faces, their expressions. There are two twin boys who are whispering back and forth and grinning in mischief. The father of the redheads is explaining something to the bushy-haired girl and her bespectackled companion using silly hand gestures. The remaining redheaded boy and girl stare at me with uneasy frowns, while the handsome boy and his father stand confidentally nearby. The handsome one, it seems, has his eyes locked on something, with a glazed-over shine that gives him a dreamy gaze, adding to his attractive exterior. I trace his gaze across the air and find that he's watching the black-haired boy. My new mind is full of knowledge I would have never dreamt, and I register that the handsome boy must find something interesting in the other to stare at.

Before I can ponder the strange relations of human nature any further, the father of the orange-haired ones makes an excited noise and grabs hold of me. I feel the touch of everyone's cold hands as they stare expectantly and excitedly down at me. I look back at them as we're all lifted and spun around, completely out of my control. In a few moments, they release me, and I fall onto the grass with a sharp thump. Around me, people collapse onto the ground with grunts and moans, a few looking slightly ill. I can feel my life flickering away, but I try to grasp onto the feeble thread for as long as possible.

My vision is fading, but I can see that three of them managed to land on their feet: the father of the redheads, the handsome boy's father, and the handsome boy. The latter turns around and throws out a hand to assist the nearest fallen person, who ends up being the black-haired boy. They grasp hands, and the handsome boy pulls him up off the ground. For a moment, a very brief and almost unnoticeable moment, they pause and stare at each other, hands still together. There's a strange, fleeting emotion that bubbles into the eyes of the handsome one, a longing perhaps, but the other boy's cheeks flush and he quickly yanks his hand away, murmurs what is probably a thank you, and hurries off to stand with his friends.

The last few seconds of memory I have is of the handsome boy, staring down at his hand with an expression I can't seem to read.