Ragged breaths echoed within the lift as it travelled towards the Department for Magical Law Enforcement. Harry Potter took the precious few moments of relative safety to get his breathing under control. Today had not been going how he had expected it to, and it was already starting to catch up with him. He knew that was a bad sign, feeling as tired as he did while in what had proven to be a hostile environment, but he opted to push the growing sense of exhaustion down. No matter how comfortable the wall he was leaning against felt at that moment.

He couldn't rest now.

Soon though, he hoped. It all depended upon what he found in Magical Law Enforcement. Idly, his eyes tracked the slowly turning rusted level indicator as it spun towards the bronze number two, and he thought back to the shit-show that had been the last few hours. The incident with the time turners was bad enough but the Ministry being overrun by people that look and act like undead was a whole new level of bad. The Auror sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose under his glasses.

Whatever had happened here, it happened a while ago and was slow going enough for the dead to be gathered but still big enough for the complex to be locked down and abandoned. With any luck, Harry hoped he would find answers for all his current questions in Magical Law Enforcement and not just where Tracey was. He needed to find her but this whole shit-show was starting to look to be far bigger than a wayward partner. All he could hope for was an indication of where the Ministry had moved to after the lock-down and a sign his partner was still alive.

The Auror groaned at his mounting list of things to look into, his growing exhaustion not helping the growing migraine.

Even though the two tasks he had set seemed simple, Harry knew that if he wasn't careful they could blow out of proportion. "One step at a time." He muttered to himself, wondering briefly if it was normal for a Wizard his age to feel this sort of fatigue after what was really rather minor use of magic (ignoring the fact he also climbed up a collapsed stairway), but quickly pushed the thought aside for later. He didn't feel like he was dying so it was probably fine. For now, he had to focus on the task at hand. The dial was now showing he'd just passed level three, and he knew his time for reprieve was coming to an end. Pushing off the wall, he raised his shield and readied himself for whatever his office would throw at him.

Moments ticked by and he quickly ran through the vague plan he'd assembled in the moments since the Atrium. Checking the entry logs to confirm Tracey had been through the department first was essential, next he would head through the Auror department to gather his things (and search for signs of Tracey if she had come through D.M.L.E.) before making his way to the main offices. If anyone would have a note or memo where the Ministry would have moved to, the Department Head was certainly one of them. It was only a matter of finding it. The final part of the plan was leaving. Harry wasn't entirely sure how he was going to do that bit, especially with the lockdown in place.

He was under no illusion that getting out of this Merlin damned complex was going to be easy. When the Ministry wasn't under lockdown, the Atrium was the only reliable way in and out. Of course, he could Apparate out via the Auror departure zone but first he'd have to drop the lockdown. That wasn't even taking into account his growing exhaustion and whatever was affecting his magic. He opted to put a pin in that and make it a problem for future him when he noticed the lift had begun slowing down.

In no time at all the artifice contraption ground to a halt, the sudden jerking of the carriage causing the lights to flicker slightly and knocking him off balance. He recovered quickly, assuming a duelling stance as a distorted and broken feminine voice announced his arrival at level two. All fell silent once more as the doors creaked apart slowly, revealing the department beyond.

Now, Harry had been expecting many things when he reached level two. Dust and debris, another sea of tarp-covered corpses, a hoard of the Inferi-like creatures or even all three at once. What he had not been expecting was to find the reception area looking like it had when he had last left. The difference between the dilapidated lift and the pristine-looking Magical Law Enforcement was like night and day. It made Harry feel something akin to whiplash as his mind tried to comprehend the odd island of normalcy in the sea of degradation that was the Ministry.

The Auror scanned the area as he slowly exited the lift, looking for anything out of place or that may hint at any of the corpse-like creatures he had already encountered. The fact that he couldn't see anything wrong only served to put him on edge even more, the normalcy of it all screaming danger just as loudly as the dilapidated halls he had already survived. Moving away from the lifts and towards the receptionist desks at the far end of the heptagonal room, the echo of his footsteps was muffled by the plush purple carpet beneath his dragonhide boots. Harry almost felt bad for dragging muck into the space, but he couldn't bring himself to actually care right now. Before him stood the first room he'd seen in hours that wasn't torn asunder, from the plush carpets to the paint work and even the sofas, it all looked far too normal to be right. The Auror felt like a sailor out at sea, lost and adrift and lured in by the soft song of a Mermaid… only to be mauled to death when he got too close.

The office felt like a trap. Now that he'd heard the song he only needed to find the Mermaid.

Bracing himself for what he doubted would be a painless experience, he carried on. Casting another series of charms through the room, Harry moved into the receptionist space and happy with what he found, slipped past the security door with a swipe of his badge.

Two desks faced out into the foyer while a third sat in the back of the small office space. The walls were lined with filing cabinets and the occasional painting devoid of its inhabitants. A part of Harry was glad the department wasn't in ruins. Not because he liked it here, no he'd rather be out in the field than be in the office if he were being honest. While he had spent almost a decade walking through these halls, without the people who filled it it wasn't the same. No, what made him glad was that, in theory, everything should still be where it should be. With that thought in mind, the experienced Auror ignored the two front desks and moved straight towards the one at the back with a singular goal in mind for now.

Find Tracey.

Barely giving the parchment-covered desk a second thought, he collapsed the in-built shield attached to his arm and gave a silent prayer. Pulling open the draw, he released a breath he hadn't realised he was holding when his eyes laid upon the single item that rested within.

An unassuming book greeted his vision, bound in hardy leather stained the same deep red as his robes, it was exactly what he was hoping to find. Reaching in and retrieving the tome from its resting place, Harry placed the book upon the pile of parchment that covered most of the desk. With a final glance around the office, and what he could see of the foyer beyond, he opened the book.

Leafing through the first few pages offered a glimpse of a time long past full of names that meant nothing to the Auror back from when the book was first implemented. Doing it this way would take years. Placing his wand hand over the pages, Harry clearly stated, "October twenty-third, twenty-seventy-seven," and watched as the book's pages rapidly flicked on their own before settling on a specific page after going through countless others.

His flesh fingers moved down the rough parchment as he examined the page the book had directed him to. It was a crowded jumble of names and times that started out clear enough before falling into madness around two o'clock in the afternoon. Just before that, he found two instances of both himself and Tracey. When they arrived, separately, and then when they left to go to the Department of Mysteries, together, at twelve-twenty-four.

"Okay, now to find out when you came back…" Harry mumbled absentmindedly as he began to once more move through the next few pages.

Honestly, the logs were a mess. So many people were coming and going through the department at any given time throughout the day that it made looking for a single name almost impossible. Almost. He wasn't sure how long he stood there, stooped over the book, but once he got to the end of the twenty-third and saw the book read 'Sunday 24th October 2077' and still be full of names, his face went pale.

He knew, deep down, that it wouldn't be the twenty third anymore. Any accidents revolving around time turners was sure to make things go a bit fuck-y for all those involved, but seeing proof of said accident losing him the rest of a day was something else altogether.

Onwards he read, skimming from page to page. The twenty-fourth came and went with no sign of Tracey Davis. The twenty-fifth wasn't much better… nor was the rest of twenty-seventy-seven.

"Fuck."

It was all he could say when twenty-seventy-seven moved on to seventy-eight. The number of names had thinned quickly and not even a third into twenty-seventy-eight there was seemingly no one left. In less than six months the Ministry had gone from the busy heart of Magical Britain to a mausoleum. The complex was filled with the dead and those that refused to die, Magical Law Enforcement had lost all its foot traffic and there had been no sign of Tracey.

The book continued, uncaring of his inner turmoil, as the twenty-seven-year-old (was he even twenty-seven anymore?) kept reading through the years. There wasn't anything to mention, entire years fit comfortably on each following page. Twenty-seventy-eight gave way to twenty-eighty in no time, and then ninety, the turn of the century with twenty-one hundred passed within the confines of the pages without any significance at all. With each passing page he felt his hope ebb away, but he kept on. He had to know, needed to know. It almost became automatic, flicking through the pages without really seeing them, that when they changed he just about went past it.

2237:

- January:

- February:
Thursday 23rd:

Tracey A. Davis, Auror Field Healer. Entered: 13:46 - Left: 14:11

- March:

- April:

Sunday 23rd :

Harry J. Potter, Senior Auror. Entered: 16:47 - Left: …

He had found her. The relief he felt almost had him miss an important key detail under his partner's name. His own. Apparently it was April now, in the year twenty-two-thirty-seven. One hundred and sixty years into the future. Relief was quickly replaced by rapidly building panic as that realisation, more than anything else today, knocked the air from his lungs. Dilapidated ruins he could deal with, had dealt with before, undead-like monsters too, while not a frequent thing, were a common enough staple in his line of work it wasn't that different from any other day. But learning that whatever had made the Time-Turners detonate in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries had knocked both him and his partner forward in time.

A memory of Hermione back in their fourth year of school sprung to mind, she had said terrible things happen to those who mess with time travel, would that be his future? Was this already that future? Harry hadn't just been thrown over a century into the future but had left his life behind. He'd never see his wife, Ginny, again. All his friends, Hemione, Ron, George and all the other Weasleys were all probably dead by now as well… Magicals lived a long time naturally, but two hundred years was pushing it. What hurt the most though was how much of a failure he had been to Teddy. He'd left his Godson behind.

The Ministry was in ruins, he'd been flung far into the future, and he had no idea what had happened to his godson.

Tears began to leak from his eyes without him realising until the first began to drip onto the magically protected paper. A weight in his chest threatened to crush him under the fact he had failed his godson just as Sirius had failed him. Not intentionally, and taken away by powers out of their control, but failed all the same. If it weren't for the fact that he was currently sitting in what was most likely very hostile territory, the wizard felt he might fall apart entirely. He almost did regardless. Only the lifeline that he wasn't truly alone yet saved him from the sea of despair that he knew was moments away from drowning him. Tracey was out there; she'd seemed to have woken up only a couple of months back and she had left.

How she had left wasn't clear, the book didn't hold those answers, but she had left regardless.

New resolve ignited within his belly, and he rose to his feet with grim determination. 'I need to know where she went from here,' he thought, moving out of the receptionist office back into the foyer. He didn't have a lot of options, but he knew he needed to deal with the lockdown first to deal with any of them. Course set, Harry marched into the bowls of the D.M.L.E towards the Auror department.

=0=

Harry quickly realised that the longer he spent walking these halls the more unsettling they became. In the decade Harry had worked as an Auror he had grown familiar with the corridors of Magical Law Enforcement, with its many paintings that lined the walls and the people that moved through its halls. The hustle and bustle of barristers and Aurors while inter-department notes flew overhead in the form of parchment cranes or aeroplanes had become a constant background noise he never realised he'd miss until it was gone.

After learning he'd been frozen for over a century, the barren halls took on a far more eerie air that was as suffocating as any raid on a tainted magical house. A part of the experienced Auror would prefer dealing with the Dark Arts over this, at least when dealing with dark magic you knew where you stood. You could feel it in the air with places saturated with the stuff, clinging to your skin like a film that wouldn't wash away for days. It's funny, in a way, that he'd prefer raiding a dingy lair over the clean, empty halls of D.M.L.E… thinking about it, he'd almost much rather turn around and just go back downstairs to the atrium.

Dealing with the Inferi-like creatures that had once been his co-workers was a far simpler task.

On autopilot, his feet took him towards the offices of the Auror department, it took far less time than it usually would in the empty halls, and it was hard to recognise the room when he finally arrived.

Where once was a bustling office space crammed with red-robed Aurors filing parchmentwork, coming back from patrol, just getting ready to leave or even just relaxing in the break room off to the side was instead replaced with a starkly empty room that lost its personality with its inhabitants. If he closed his eyes, he could make himself believe just for a moment that not everyone was they were hiding just behind doors and under hasty disillusionment charms ready to jump out and shout "Surprise!" like they all had done for Susan's birthday only a couple weeks ago… except it wasn't a couple weeks ago, it had been years and years and years, and he had been left behind.

Everyone was gone and the Ministry had fallen into ruin, all except this level.

If he hadn't climbed up from level nine and seen the entire place looking as if a flock of Hippogriffs had stormed through the place with a dragon hot on their heels, Harry would have thought everything was being maintained by the Ministry's army of House Elves. But if that was the case why did they let the rest of the maze of tunnels and offices that made the Ministry fall apart as they had? The answer would be easy to learn, he knew. All the Auror had to do was call for an Elf and ask. But the fact he was over a hundred and sixty years into the future stayed his hand. Harry wasn't sure if there would be any elves left and, not just that, he didn't want to know if they had contracted the same condition as the creatures he'd already encountered. If they had, it would be both a blessing and curse if the little creatures even recognised their own names anymore, and that was if the ones he knew were still kicking…

If it hadn't taken long to get to the Auror offices, it was like he was apparating getting to his desk. In some ways the old dark-wood workplace was just how he left it, tea stains and covered in parchment and all. Even the wizarding photos were still there and, unlike the portraits that had lined the walls, they were still occupied and moving. He wasn't going to question why as he thoughtlessly picked up the frame of him, Ginny and Teddy when they'd gone camping last year to Cannock along with his cousin's family who could just be seen in the background. Harry blinked tears out of his eyes, quickly bagging the old frame into his rucksack as well as the other photo, one of himself, Ron and Hermione at Bill and Fleur's wedding.

With the photo's safely stored in a side pocket, he quickly did a quick inventory check of the bag to make sure it was as he left it. A small phial of Essence of Dittany, a bottomless water bottle and a pack lunch that was probably long past safe to eat, even with the preservation charms that had been used on it. None of his quick charm work would last a week, yet alone almost two centuries. The thought of food, no matter how unsafe, made his stomach growl. He hadn't eaten in hours and with the amount of magic he'd used it wasn't surprising that he'd be hungry. He wondered if the Leaky was still open and serving those steak and ale pies? Shaking his head, Harry pushed the thought of food away. That could come later after he'd gotten out of this Merlin-damned hell hole.

Harry was about to leave to find his way out when he gave the desk one final once over. It wouldn't do to leave anything important here, after all, and he didn't know when or if he'd be able to come back. Nothing seemed to be left, he had the photos and his bag and figured that was it when, at the top of the mountain of parchment, familiar handwriting stood out.

Potter,

If you're reading this it means you've thankfully woken up. It's February 2237 for me now according to the logs, we've been frozen for a while, and I have no idea what's going on here. If you wake up soon, I'm heading to Diagon for some answers.

T. Davis

"Well, at least I know where to start looking," he muttered, pocketing the torn piece of rough paper. Unfortunately, she didn't mention how she had planned to get out, though considering she had gotten out was a good sign. Though if she had, it was odd the lockdown was still in place. It was possible there was some sort of temporary way to turn it off, but if there was then knowing about it was above his pay grade. But, as a senior Auror, that narrowed his search down considerably to three likely places, and two of them were on this level and one was in this very room. That being the office of the Head Auror, one Gawain Robards. It was funny really, earlier he'd wished not to have a reason to go see his boss and here he was, walking towards the very room he had wished to avoid.

Maybe he should have nicked one of those enchanted boxes?

Harry chuckled quietly at the thought before he froze. He'd only made it a handful of steps before he heard something deeper in the department that had him ducking behind a desk. Up until this point, the entire department had been deathly silent, so any sound had him on alert, yet alone the sound of something being knocked over. The Auror didn't know what it had been, but the clatter it made echoed through the empty labyrinth like the tolling of a bell. His ears strained against the deafening silence, waiting for another sign he wasn't as alone as he hoped he was. Moments stretched forever but he dared not move from his position, even when no other sound came. Regardless, something had made a noise, and he wasn't foolish enough to think it had just been the ageing complex. He was not alone. For the first time since waking up in the Merlin-damned future he wished he hadn't given his invisibility cloak to Teddy but quickly squashed the thought as soon as it formed.

Despite the situation he found himself in, Harry only hoped that his godson had used the cloak well.

When no further sound met his ears, Harry began to move. Slowly, and keeping low, he began to make his way past the other desks that filled the Auror office towards the admin offices. He was most likely to find what he wanted in the office for the department head, but Robard's office was closer, so it was a better idea to look there first. After learning he wasn't alone, moving deeper into the bowels of Magical Law would only be a valid idea should this office fail to have what he needed, and even then it would be risky since he had no idea what was in here with him. Reaching the edge of the desks, he glanced down the aisle between these desks and the next towards the far wall

The coast looked clear. Harry didn't believe it though, with the department empty that echo could have come from anywhere there was an open door. Even when a quick revealing charm turned up clear he didn't fully relax. The charm didn't reach as far as it normally would, his exhaustion and hunger clearly catching up on him, but it was still enough. Sure, there wasn't anything in the room with him, but he should still be as quiet as possible. With that in mind, he began to move across the aisle, keenly aware of how his heartbeat in his chest as he passed each desk and grew closer to his boss' office.

Minutes stretched, punctuated by the thunder in his ears and the soft tap-tap-tap of his boots. Usually, he'd have preferred to cast both a disillusionment and sound muffling charm on himself given the situation, but after the weakened revealing charm and the how off he was beginning to feel he opted for good old-fashioned stealth. He wasn't the best at it, but his lack-lustre skills would have to do. Thankfully, even at the reduced pace, it didn't take long before Robards office came into view. Wood painted a deep crimson with a brass plaque on the front marking it as the office of the head Auror and a single square window to confirm occupancy; his path looked clear. As far as he could tell through the frosted enchanted glass, the room appeared empty.

The closer he drew, the more conflicted he felt. Harry hadn't really had the best working relationship with Gawain who, on several occasions, called him a suicidal magpie. Harry never knew how serious he had been about the name, but in the end Harry knew the man was probably just concerned for him… especially when his wife shared a similar opinion. But now the office was empty. Was his boss dead? Or was he a part of the ravenous horde that had infested the Ministry? He didn't know, he wasn't sure he wanted to know either. Harry didn't think he could bring himself to kill Robards. All he could hope for was that Gawain wasn't still in his office all these years later, be he living or…

Harry mentally shivered at the thought and tried to push it aside. The exhaustion was clearly getting to him, his mind was slipping more the longer this went.

Nearing the final desk, Harry paused and allowed a moment's respite before the final push. Between him and his destination was a good fifteen-foot expanse of open floor and his legs were starting to ache something fierce from all the strain he'd been putting into them. Taking a sip of water from his bottle, he was very glad that the enchantment was still holding as cool water graced his parched lips. The water also took the edge off of his growing nausea and bone-deep exhaustion that permeated his body, though nowhere near enough to make them both fade. After he'd gotten out of here, he was seriously considering going to Saint Mungo's first, it could not be healthy for a magical his age to be in this much pain after relatively minor spell casting.

Maybe it had something to do with being thrown through time?

Putting the bottle away, he added it to the list of things to look into later. Maybe Herm- no, he shouldn't finish that thought and just focus on getting out of here.

thud

The Wizard froze. It had sounded like a chair had been knocked over, but that wasn't the most concerning bit. No, that trophy went to the fact it had sounded from the other side of the room. Glancing over his shoulder, he dared to peer over the desk in the direction of the disturbance. There was no sign of anyone in the room, the corpse-like creatures he'd encountered weren't the steadiest on their feet, he knew, but he also figured he'd be able to see one from this angle had one wandered in. The fact that he couldn't see one had his imagination whirring a mile a minute.

Sharp green eyes locked onto a desk that was missing a chair, It was concerningly close to his own desk, and soon after that realisation his ears began to pick up muffled footsteps shuffling towards the desk in question. Time was quickly running out and he had to move soon or else whatever it was would spot him. Mind made up, he stood and quietly moved towards the office. When the sound of something struggling with a chair rang behind him he picked up the pace. A couple more paces in and the sound of something hitting the floor followed by a grunt greeted his ears. It sounded small, it could have been a House Elf, but the little magical creatures were seldom seen or heard.

Harry had only managed to travel a little over a third of the distance when a disgruntled huff resounded behind him, followed by a concerningly familiar Crack that caused his blood to run cold. Slowly, he began to turn. No longer feeling like the twenty-seven-year-old man he was but a terrified schoolboy caught out of bounds.

There, standing in the middle of a desk, his desk, he noted, was a House Elf. But much like the rest of the Ministry, it was wrong, all wrong! Its long, hooked nose was missing its hook, one of the large bat-like ears was missing entirely while the other was full of holes, its skin was wafer-thin and over all looked somewhere between a survivor of horrid burns and Swiss cheese. It was haunting, and familiar, painfully familiar. He had seen a half-dozen of them downstairs. Unlike the monsters he had already encountered however, its tennis ball sized bloodshot eyes gazed at him with the same intelligence as a normal elf…

As he stared at the Inferi-like House Elf, the House Elf stared right back.

"Mister Potter sir has wokens from his nap," it croaked in a voice like sandpaper.

It was the first time any of the, what he had assumed was undead, had spoken to him and it unsettled him more and added more questions to the mystery of what had happened to them. On the bright side, he might be able to get some answers out of the Elf since it could talk. "err, sorry I don't think I know your name?" he asked slowly, palming his wand in case it was as feral as others he'd encountered that looked like that. When the little creature laughed at Harry for his question, a harsh and mad sounding cackle that reminded Harry of a Witch he had encountered with the same sort of madness only served as a red flag.

"Oh, it has been so long that Mister Potter sir has forgotten Whispy, but Whispy has not forgotten Mister Potter ser. Oh no, we's remember, we's remember very well the good sir." It, Whispy, continued, while laughing its mad laugh. Harry remembered Whispy, he's spoken to the Elf yesterday… over a hundred years ago… fuck it was getting confusing.

"Oh, sorry I've been… asleep so long Whsipy. Of course I remember you," Harry started slowly, while backing up more towards the door behind him away from the very mad sounding Elf. "Do you know what happened here?" he asked just before he bumped against the door. The elf stopped laughing, a relief to be sure, to stare at Harry. It's glassy, blood-shot eyes staring into his soul.

"Mister Harry Potter sir doesn't know?" it laughed, harshly this time. It seemed bitter. "Whispy doesn't know, only what the masters say befores they all die or loose theirs minds," it giggled, the madness returning to its voice, "fire, theys says. Fire fells from the skies it did and now no one left to serve." It sounded sad, glancing away as if lost in a memory before its eyes were back on Harry, sharper than before. "But wes no need to serve anymores. Oh no, sir. Whispy is a free elf, yes he is." It giggled again, manic as it inched towards him. Suddenly, Harry had the sneaking suspicion it was going to be hard getting into this office as the obviously mad Inferi-like elf slowly ebbed closer.

"Are you the only Elf left, Whispy?" Harry asked, eying a door at the far side of the room.

It stopped, thinking over the question before answering, "No, we's not the only elf left," It answered and wasn't that just wonderful. Part of him hoped they weren't all as mad as Whispy had become but he knew there was little chance of that. At this point, Harry knew Flooing out wasn't an option. None of the fireplaces in the DMLE had a connection outside, only internally within the Ministry. While there was an emergency exit to the surface, if this Elf wasn't alone then Apparating might be his only option…

Well, the fact Whispy was answering questions meant he likely wasn't as free as he wanted to think he was, be Harry wasn't about to voice that fact. "Okay, well thank Thank you, Whispy. I'm sure you're a busy elf so I'll let you get on with your day." Harry said, while slowly checking if the office was open.

"Oh no, sir. We is not busy at all," it said with a shake of its head that sent its half-decayed ears flapping, "we has been so lonely down heres, but then Ms. Davis miss came, but she didn't stay long. Oh no she didn't," it continued as Harry tried to ease into the office while the elf spoke. It seemed to be working its way up to something and with how crazy it had sounded; Harry wasn't sure he wanted to know what it was building to. "But you'll stay, won't you sir?" it asked, inching closer still.

"I'd love too, but I really need to find my friend," Harry said a little too quickly to be polite, but the Elf was creepy and he wanted out.

"Oh no, sir. Yous must stay for tea, it's nearly teatime it is," It said and while food was tempting, a gleam in its glassy eyes marked the second red flag of this conversation. 'Nope, definitely time to go," Harry thought. "Okay, Whispy. I just need to get something from here first," He lied, but the Elf didn't seem to notice. The door shut behind him and Harry took a deep breath.

The elf was unnerving, and not just to look at. Something about it made Harry keenly aware that it had been down here for over a hundred years alone and under the assumption that it was free. It's appearance and insistence about staying for food had Harry questioning if the meal was going to be a who, namely him. Not wishing to find out, he quickly took in the office and looked for the ward access. Or, more specifically, something that would turn off the lockdown temporarily. He had a feeling this is what Tracey did to get out, he just needed to find confirmation that she had.

And find it he did.

Across from him one of the paintings was a little slanted and peeking from under the gilded frame he could make out the edge of a compartment. From just outside the door, he heard another the scurrying of feet and another couple audible pop-clicks to signify more Elves had appeared. The situation was quickly going from bad to worse and he was running out of time.

Moving to the empty painting and pushing it further aside, Harry peered within the hidden compartment to see a perfectly circular stone inscribed with runes inlaid with a gold-coloured metal. He barely understood half the runes, those that were what might be younger futhark, but he understood enough to know this was an auxiliary ward-stone that could lock down the D.M.L.E and, if he was reading it correctly, temporarily open the apparition point during lockdowns. It certainly explained how Tracey was able to get out, he just had to hope he had enough know-how to do it himself…

Glancing back at the door, he could just about hear quiet chittering from the other side and what must have been that mad elf talking. Something gave him the impression that Whispy was the only Elf that could talk amongst the 'survivors', but Harry wasn't going to stick around to figure out if that was true or not. If all the elves were like the humans he'd delt with so far he knew the little fuckers were probably ravenous.

Unfortunately, unlike the humans, Whispy had more cognitive function than the humans and showed signs of still being able to use magic which was concerning. Laying his flesh hand against the ward stone, he pushed his will upon it, willing it to unlock the apparition point. He could feel the magic of the building resist his request, sensations and feeling of danger and unease seeped into his mind via the stone, the building itself, whatever was left of its magic, trying to dissuade him from his task. But Harry wouldn't have it.

He wasn't going to die down here, not when there was a chance at least someone he knows survived whatever happened here. He had to figure it out, find Tracey and then… well he didn't know yet but he'd figure it out.

Determination thrummed through his mind and, with one last mental push on the wards he felt the warmth of acceptance. Harry didn't know how long the wards would stay open for him, so he had to be fast. Turning back to the door and reopening his shield, he prepared for a sprint. Beyond the door he could hear more elves moving about and knew it wouldn't be easy. Bracing himself for the coming hardship, he gripped the handle and prayed.

Chaos erupted the moment he opened the door. In the well-lit room, he could see numerous ghastly-looking elves in various states of decay but refusing death. Pale flesh hung loosely from spindly arms, many were missing noses or ears and would look like burn survivors if not for their glassy bloodshot eyes. As the door opened, they all turned to glare at him, many let out snarls baring their sharp teeth. He ignored them, bolting as fast as he could through the office. All around him, Harry could hear the pitter-patter of tiny feet rushing towards him and fingers snapping in his direction. From the first snap, he rolled to the side, just barely missing the bolt of sickly-looking magic flying over his head. He heard throaty chortles from one of the deranged little undead creatures as he weaved his way between the desks. Several times one of the little house-ghouls flung themselves at him over desks only for him to bash them away with his shield. Despite their size and appearance, the elves were deceptively heavy, and a couple nearly knocked him over in their attempts to get at him. Many tried to trip him up by going under the desks and crawling on all fours but size was at his advantage. Longer legs prevailed and with each step, dodge, weave and even leap over the odd desk that was moved into his path Harry grew closer and closer to his freedom.

Just as he was about to breach the door, something hard and heavy collided with his back sending a sharp jolt of pain through him that had the Auror rolling through the door with a bang. Groaning, Harry rolled over enough to just make out what looked like a parchmentweight off to the side before a tsunami of rabid house-elves came into view, rapidly approaching the still open door. Acting on instinct alone the Wizard twisted with a loud, deafening CRACK that left the room empty save for the parchmentweight.

For Harry, he was first met with the familiar sickening feeling of being sucked through a rubber tube too small for him, what followed made him vow to, if he even survived, never apparate again. The feeling of nausea grew a thousand-fold, and he felt whatever contents were left in his stomach demand freedom. He felt too hot and cold at the same time, his skin felt too loose on his bones and what had only been a couple seconds felt like an eternity of agony.

With an even louder CRACK the Wizard landed before what he hoped to be No.12 Grimmauld Place, his home, but he could barely tell. The moment he touched the ground, bile and what little was in his gut spewed from his mouth leaving the acrid taste of vomit as it went. His vision blurred from the pain as it felt like everything was on fire. Vaguely, Harry could have sworn he could hear voices, but consciousness was quickly slipping through his grasp. The last thing he registered was the red of bricks and a humanoid shape he hoped wasn't another one of those things…