Bloodfire

Disclaimer: I do not own the world of Harry Potter. J.K Rowling owns everything that belongs to this franchise.

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Pain surged through her blood, roaring like a wildfire through her body in a tempest of anguish. Her hands grasped feebly at the shimmering silver that had been driven through her chest from behind. The blade slithered out of her flesh and she collapsed as more pain coursed through her and behind that agony came a strange warmth. The warmth of a body's last desperate effort to stop the pain.

Her vision blurred the world around her becoming a haze of half heard sounds and shifting shades of colour. She heard the swish of metal on cloth as her killer wiped his…or was it her blade and sheathed it. A curious silence seemed to envelope her, cutting her off from the last vestiges of the world as her heart faithfully pumped her blood onto the ground below her. Her eyelids grew heavy; her vision darkened and as her eyes closed she felt the bindings holding her spirit to her body slip apart.

The figure behind her waved their sword in a circle around the redhead's body and sheets of blue flame erupted to consume her.

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Hermione's eyes sprang open to find her clothing drenched with cold sweat. She shook her head, trying to dislodge that memory from her mind. Beside her a shape stirred. His black hair flicked across his face as he turned to face her. “Christ `Mione, are you alright?” He whispered as he saw the fear etched across her face and the tears beginning to roll down her cheeks.

“Another dream,” she wept softly, “this one about Ginny.”

“Ginny?” Harry asked his voice rife with uncertainty. “Are you sure? What happened?”

“I'm sure it was her.” She responded tearfully, “and it was the same as always but a bit different again. Stabbed this time and then burnt as she died. But the same person and I couldn't see his face!” A thread of anger fought at her fear as she lay in his arms. “I couldn't see his face at all. And I was fully screening with Occlumency tonight. I couldn't stop the dream coming.”

“Ok, then I think it's time we went to see a Seer. We need an experienced opinion on this.”

“Yo-” Hermione's voice faltered, “You don't think what I'm seeing is the future?”

“I hope that it isn't with every fibre of my being but I don't know, I can't know. Only a Seer can tell if these visions are a true vision of the future. So I think we should firecall Velius in the morning and try and get a proper appointment.” He felt her shoulders tense and cut her off before she could protest. “I know you don't want do to this but do we have any other choice? You're tearing yourself apart.” He choked out around tears of his own. Hermione must have heard the soul-deep concern within that appeal for she relaxed slightly.

“All right love, we'll firecall Velius. I doubt we'll have much trouble getting an appointment though. He's probably known that this was coming. He has an almost frightening amount of control over his gift.”

“And he probably already knows all our questions and the answers to each one.” Harry said with a touch of annoyed amusement. “You know, I sometimes get-”

“- so annoyed by Seers, I know.”

“Firecall in the morning then. Promise me that?”

“All right….tomorrow.” Her eyes closed and she fell back into slumber again, but this time not a troubled one.

Harry stayed awake after Hermione fell asleep, holding her in his arms while his mind raced through everything he had ever learned about the gift of Foresight. Yes, sometimes Seers saw things in their dreams and those were generally the most powerful visions they ever had. But few Seers ever had dreams of the future at the start of their Seeing and none had ever only had dream-sight. He remembered that a passage from Foresight: Curse or Gift that had been written about this particular subject but he couldn't remember the subject matter. After a few minutes racking his brain for anything else he could remember he slipped into a light doze.

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He got up early, before he normally did just as the sun's rays started to spear over the horizon. He went to the window and stepped through the curtains to look out at the sun as it crept up from the hills it was nestled in. He stayed there for about ten minutes, drinking in the sunrise's beauty and then slipped back through the curtain and padded softly down the stairs to collect the post. He was half-way back up the stairs with the post when a piercing shriek of terror shattered the silence from above him. Sprinting back up the stairs to their room he almost tripped as he charged through the door to find Hermione sitting straight up on the bed, her face a marble-white mask of terror.

“Vel….Velius…” She stuttered and then visibly pulled herself together. “Velius is dead, Harry. His house just collapsed on him.” Her voice shook as she continued and Harry hurried to her side and wrapped his arms around her.

“It was him.” It wasn't really a question.

“Yes.” Hermione whispered in horror. “It was him. But I still didn't catch more than a glimpse of him! And now what are we going to do?”

“I…Hermione, we can't be sure that you're correct here.” He saw her face contract as he said that. “But we can find out.” He reached for a small container of Floo powder on the mantelpiece above their fireplace. <Incendio> He thought clearly, pointing his wand at the fireplace. He sprinkled some of the powder into the conjured fire and then lowered his head into the flames and reeled off Velius's address. There was the familiar whirl of motion…and then nothing. He looked around, this was Velius's fireplace. Something was dripping onto the fire, causing it to crackle but he couldn't see what. He leaned further into the fire and twisted to look upwards. He didn't quite flinch as he saw the crumpled corpse of his former partner ripped almost ripped in half and suspended from the ceiling by warped metal and wood. He saw a trickle of water down from the body and shuddered. Whatever had done that had gone straight through him. He pulled himself out of the fire. “You're right Hermione. Now we know that those visions can see the present at different places.” He tried to stop it, but his voice wavered as the image of what had happened to Velius snaked into his head.

Hermione shivered as another thought struck her and Harry heard her resolve starting to crack.

“He knew what we were going to do the moment we discussed it. How did he know? How?!”

“I don't know love, I wish I did, but I just don't know.” Harry's voice sparkled with tears. Hermione had met Velius only a handful of times but Harry had worked with him for five years now. They curled around each other, trying to draw comfort from their mutual suffering. Then an owl knocked on the window.

“What? Hedwig doesn't usually come this way.” Harry exclaimed, drawing back the curtain. But he revealed not Hedwig but another owl, Halsat, Velius's owl. He held out his claw to Harry as he opened the window for him. Harry reached down and his hand crumpled ashes. He looked down for a moment, stunned. There was nothing in the owl's claws but a small pile of ash. Halsat swayed on the window and Harry suddenly noticed that one of his wings was out of place and there were charred marks around the owl's head. He swayed again and Harry reached out to him but a razor sharp beak made him withdraw his hand very quickly.

“Halsat, it's just me, Harry.” He said urgently as the owl began to teeter on the edge of the windowsill. Halsat mantled at him, beating his wings in an attempt to keep his balance. Then he fell. Harry's hand flashed for his wand, swinging half-way out of the window. Too late. A muffled crunch announced Halsat's sudden connection with the ground. “Damn it!” He crumbled the ashes in his hands and his fingers touched something cold and solid. He pulled it out and examined it. It looked like a highly inscrolled ball bearing. Then the thing flashed into incandescence, filling the room with light, and they heard Velius's voice.

“Harry, Hermione. I know what's coming for me, don't worry I'll put up a good fight. But she's coming for you as well. Get out of your house, get out of the country!” There was a crash in the background. “No time left, she's coming. Just got enough time for this. Hermione, I know you're confused but you're a dream-seer. Stop trying to screen it out, it only weakens your gift. Open your mind and see the world without inhibitions. When you know that you're ready, confront this monster. Farewell. Back mage, back to where you belong. I shall not fall to you!” There was a hideous scream, a sudden crack and then the light faded from the room. Harry brought the ball up to his eyes to look at it, but as he did so it crumbled into ashes in his hand.

He stood there, stunned into incoherence. Eventually he felt Hermione tugging on his arm and turned to her ashen face.

“Harry, what do we do?”

“What Velius told us to do 'Mione. We run.”

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Part of this is stolen shamelessly from the Dark Wing/Dark Path series by Walter H. Hunt. Yes, I am stealing sci-fi to fuel a fantasy story. Anyway, hope you like it and please read and review.

They packed without any sort of structure to their actions. It was as if they had been torn away from normality and thrown back into the frantic scramble of the last war. Luckily for them, the habit of always being ready to move, no matter what the circumstances had endured. Clothes, books and the few mementos they had were jammed into a much battered travelling bag. It had seen better days but some of the bead-work on it was still visible. Regardless of its looks, the holding spell Hermione had cast on it had held for all these years and she always kept a few essentials inside it in case they had to move like this. Now all those old instincts were paying off. Their packing was finished within ten minutes of Velius's message. Hermione was still fretting about what he had said about her being a “Dream-Seer” and even more about the word he had used to describe what had killed him, a mage. There was an explanation in one of her books but Harry had pried the book gently out of her grasp before she could get further than opening it and told her in no uncertain terms that they could read up on their new enemy when they were safe, or at least safer.

She had relented at that and the book had gone into the bag with the rest of their essentials. They hastily dressed as they packed, doing most of the packing half naked, much to her discomfort (it was cold in the mornings). But they were ready now. She fastened the bag around her waist with the strap she had made after the original one wore out. Harry held up his Firebolt and then shook his head.

“Considering that whatever is coming for us could hit an owl in flight I don't think flying is the way to go.” He said before gently lowering the broomstick into the bag. He took her hand. “Where do we go?”

“One of the old safe-houses I think. They've been kept stocked and we might be able to put together a reasonable plan from there.” She replied and his heart swelled as he saw his Hermione in the pale face at his side.

“Number 12?”

“No, to obvious to whatever is following us. Dalai” The both looked around one last time at the place they had made their home for the past fifteen years. There was a sudden explosion of light visible through the window. “Good God! She's here already. Those are the wards!” Hermione cried.

“Hold on `Mione, here we go.”

There was a crack and the couple vanished, and not a moment too soon either. Another explosion of light swept over the house and then a bolt of golden fire came slamming through the window they had been standing in front of only seconds before. Bolt after bolt slammed into the stone building, reducing it to rubble as their attacker smashed away her rage on it. She knew she had lost her prey, but they would have no home to come back to after this was done. She drew from her pocket a tarnished silver stiletto and sliced it unerringly across her hand. Blood welled up from the wound, a vivid contrast to her pale skin and she tossed it into the air as her other hand gestured. A milky-white tornado caught the liquid before it fell and turned to the dark colour of dried blood. Sparkling red and silver, the whirlwind dropped into the crater the fire-bolts had made and the house started to disintegrate. And more than that, the ground around it seem to wither as the mage wind cleanly erased all signs of civilisation. The woman's hood fell back and her silver hair streamed back in the wind as she called the power back to her. The damage now done, she sealed her wound and vanished in a flicker of silver.

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The old building had stayed uninhabited since the end of the War, a testament to the strength of the Order. Its halls had sheltered many of the Resistance as they had scattered across the country and had never once been found. It was protected by a variation of the Fidelius Charm that no-one understood. This house `knew' who it should protect and would not allow anyone else in. It was as if the wizard who had cast the spell had keyed the wards to shield any force of good from danger. Now it felt a familiar presence hurtling towards its wards and the old, old magic that had created it reawakened from slumber.

They appeared in the hall of the House, Harry being supported by Hermione.

“Gods, I need to get more practice in long range Apparition,” he gasped out, leaning heavily on Hermione. “It never used to take this much out of me.” They staggered into the sitting room of the House and collapsed onto the plush sofa that - Hermione was sure - had been several chairs the last time they had been here. She said as much to her partner. “'Mione, I'm not really in a state to listen about the House's abnormalities.” Harry replied wearily, “We all know it's strange and effectively alive with magic so I see no reason that it can't play with its own furniture. Anyway, what was that thing you wanted to look up?”

“Are you sure we'll be safe here?” She replied cautiously.

“If we aren't the House will tell us before whatever she is gets here.”

“Fair enough.” Hermione pointed her wand into the bag and a book shot out into her hand. Harry recognized this one, it was at least a thousand years old - one of the oldest books she had - and she had got it only a few weeks ago. It had lost its cover but the rest of it was in surprisingly good condition for a book of that age and she leafed through it quickly. “There we are, I knew this book had something on mages.” She said, pointing triumphantly at one of the chapter headings. The chapter was entitled “The History of the Magewars” and at that Harry stiffened slightly.

“That name sounds a bit ominous to me, love.” He said gently as she started to read.

“Shh!” She hushed with a grin. “Go find some food, I have a feeling this is going to be an all-nighter.”

“Sure, send the man out to cook.” He mock-snapped as he heaved himself out of the sofa and walked through into the kitchen. As usual, the House had everything he needed to make a meal and he set to the task easily.

He walked back into the room were he had left Hermione half an hour later with a simple meal of pasta and etched a bow.

“Milady's dinner is served.” He announced mischievously and she flapped her hands towards the small table in front of the sofa. He placed the tray on the aforementioned table and gave her a quick kiss. “Find anything?”

“Quite a bit actually and not much of it good I'm afraid.” She replied as she dug into the pasta. Harry motioned for her to continue as he chewed. “According to this,” she indicated the book, “there was a series of wars around two thousand years ago. Magical wars between what we know as wizards and a…I guess the best term for it would be a `splinter group' of the old magical community. These people were probably the first to understand non-vocal magic. Then, things get fuzzy. According to the book, after teaching most of the wizarding world silent magic, this group started working on wand-less magic. They succeeded too,” She saw him open his mouth in exclamation and held up her hand. “Let me finish, you need to know the rest of this story. They apparently started using wand-less magic about two decades after silent magic became common. That's incredibly fast compared to how long it took them to figure out silent magic. Also, they refused to tell anyone how they did it, so the wizarding council sent a group to investigate. One person, out of a group of twenty, made it back to the council and her message terrified and disgusted them. The Varnel - that was the name of the splinter-group - used blood to perform wand-less magic.” Harry's face paled at that statement and she nodded grimly. “Human blood, Harry, their own but preferably that of others.”

“So there was a war after that?” He whispered aghast, all thoughts of meal forgotten.

“Yes. A massive war. I only read a few pages before I couldn't read anymore - I was too sickened by what I read - but apparently the Varnel held off concerted attacks by most of the wizarding world. A single one of their mages - they thought the title of wizard below them - is recorded to have beaten back an assault by over twenty highly trained combat wizards.”

“So why didn't they win? They had all those advantages.”

“In a way they did win. The Council couldn't defeat the Varnel, they tried over and over again but at each attempt they met failure. So they did the unthinkable. They took an entire country, tore it loose from this world and threw it at another. Then they erased all memory of the war. All the books, all the knowledge. They obliviated anyone who refused to take an Unbreakable Vow to hide the truth. But the person who wrote this book seems to have been one of the Council. He managed to hide this book - and a few others - from the rest of his peers. He wanted the truth to be found again because he had been the person who created the spell that banished the Varnel. Because of this, he knew that if the world they choose threw the Varnel away from them, like they had done, they would return to their proper place in our world. He didn't know how long it would take, but he was also quite sure that the Varnel would figure out a way to reverse the spell.”

“So he hid these books to warn us?” Harry asked incredulously. “He planned that far ahead?”

“It seems so. I still don't now why we're important though. I've found nothing that indicates the need of a particular person to reverse the spell. But then again, some people liked the Varnel and might have wanted to reverse the spell themselves. I'll keep looking, but I doubt that I'll find any mention of how the spell worked.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Harry questioned quickly. He knew his skills lay mostly in other areas but he could try.

“I guess you could have a quick look at the book I got with this one.” Hermione pointed her wand again into the bag and plucked another book from the air. “Here. And Harry,” she said, handing the book to him, “thanks.” He smiled gently at her and pulled her to him into one of their indescribable embraces.

“Don't worry. We'll find out what this thing does and how it does it. Barring anything else, at least I'll have a better knowledge of history.” He quipped, remembering their many recurring arguments over when he was going to learn about magical history and was rewarded with a tremulous smile. “Now let's work out a way to beat this thing.” They released each other and turned to their books, a bit more confidence in their faces. At least now they knew what their enemy was.

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She waited, poised on the edge of infinity, encased within a silver eggshell. Colours swirled below her and she raised her hand. Her knife sliced through it, sending a swirl of crimson into the void below and they formed around her, red, blue, orange, yellow, green and violet. She held as all the colours of the rainbow swirled around her shield.

“How goes the work?” The violet said.

“I lost them at their home,” the colours turned darker, “but I've found them again.” she hastened to add. “They're hiding in one of our old strongholds.” As she said that, the colours turned darker still and she seemed to hear laughter. Not clear, happy laughter but the laughter of a hunter whose prey is now cornered.

“We shall…re-adjust the Home to our presence” stated the red.

“They shall be unaware of your approach.” chimed the orange

“Their wands will be `misplaced'.”

“You shall sweep down upon their unprepared and unarmed bodies and take what is ours from them.” The blue uttered. Their voices sounded as one, like six bells in discord.

“Take what is ours! Bring back what is ours and we shall return to wreak our destruction upon an unprepared world. Bring us back!” Their tones swirled together like the rainbow they represented and light exploded around her as the colours merged. She cried out, covering her eyes from the glare and when her eyes cleared she was alone again.

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Sorry for the horrifically late update, prelims and Advanced Higher investigations suck. As does partial writer's block. Regardless, I hope you enjoy this next part and hopefully the next won't be so long in coming. Oh yes, and please, please, pleease continue to review.

Shattering World

They lay together on one of the House's beds, entwined in each other's arms. Books were scattered around the bed, strewn unclosed on the floor. Hermione's bag was close at hand and they had gone to sleep with their wands in their hands. Old habits were coming back from the war. But now they were sleeping in the one of the few places that belonged to their enemy. The Home had fought valiantly against its old masters, but in the end, it could not refuse its creators. Golden sparks floated through the floorboards below them, swirling into a hand of ephemeral energy. It reached towards Hermione's wand, tendrils of colour splitting off its fingers and sparkling in the dark. It touched the wand with its Hand and started to pull it out of Hermione's grip.

On the other side of the bed, a similar operation was being conducted on Harry's wand, slowly prising it out of his grip and filling the space with illusion. It worked carefully, but quickly, knowing that its master's servant would soon be here and would expect everything to be ready. And in its hurry, one of its Hands brushed Hermione's skin. Images poured into its consciousness, the two on the bed laughing as three red and blond haired children ran around a nursery, locked in an endless game of tag. A young woman, with laughing eyes and blond hair inviting the two into dinner and the happiness at being able to help round up the children. It felt the joy and a piercing sorrow over past mistakes. <What mistakes> it thought and suddenly more images cascaded into its mind. A hospital, a tiny dead bundle of dreams wrapped in a blanket, a desperate sorrow as that bundle was carried away as they wept. Loss. Pain. Even punctuated by joy it flooded into the Home's mind and it paused. Only for a second, but it paused nonetheless and in that second Hermione's eyes sprang open.

She yanked her wand away from the Hand around it and slashed it in an arc around her and her husband. A wave of force swept out from that slash and fractured the form of the Hands around them. She shook her husband awake with one hand while her wand twisted and a bubble of iridescent light sprang up around them. She was already out from under the covers, conjuring her clothes onto her body. One of the Hands started forward, she flicked her wand at it and the Hand shattered into wisps of colour. She turned slightly and whispered urgently to Harry.

“Get up. I don't know how I know, but she's coming and this place isn't going to stop her. It was trying to steal our wands.” She said in a voice of frozen helium.

“What? Why would it-” He stopped for a second and shook his head to clear it. Then his eyes cleared and he realised what she meant. “Oh.”

“Exactly.” Hermione's voice was harsh with irony, “We all thought it was so clever, this house that we found. We didn't understand it, but it kept us safe. Now we know how it did it.” Her wand flashed in the dim light and three more Hands burst asunder before the House retreated. “Dammit, we don't even know if we can Disapparate out of here.” She cried in despair.

“No. I refuse to believe that we are trapped.” Harry replied forcefully, gently shaking her. “If we couldn't get out, why would it be taking our wands?” He asked triumphantly and Hermione calmed as his logic penetrated her panic. “Come on, we have to move again. We have to get out, if only to work out how to fight this.”

“I know love,” She gestured at the books around the bed and they flew into the bag. She checked the bag, making sure that it hadn't been ransacked by the House and checked her books as well. “Good, they weren't smart enough to steal my books.” She said, her voice much calmer now that her precious books where safe. “Where do we go from here?”

“We can't say, it'll tell its master.” Harry replied. “But I think I have an id-” There was a shattering explosion and the floor gave way. Silver flames flared up around them and Harry's hand twisted. The air shaped itself around them as they fell, steering them away from that inferno of power. They hit the ground hard, losing their feet in the impact and Hermione cried out as her ankle twisted in an attempt to soften the fall. She fell towards the flames but her wand flashed in her hand. A plane of force caught her and quickly deposited her no the floor not a moment before a bolt of golden light flared across the room towards them. She felt the heat of its passing as it plunged through the space she had just occupied and shuddered. Harry, having just climbed to his feet, hurled himself to the floor again to avoid another golden bolt of fire as it streaked across the room to impact on the wall. The wall had been shattered by the previous shot and now collapsed to expose the outside world. Harry's wand flashed in the silver light and a pane of blue force sprang up around them, dividing the room.

“Quick, out through the wall!” He yelled as the House started to repair itself. Hermione pointed her wand at her ankle and muttered an incantation before leaping to her feet and sprinting for the impromptu exit.

Two more bolts of golden fire lanced into Harry's shield, causing cracks to appear, and he paled as he too ran for the hole. Hermione clambered through it and spun, wand outstretched to raise another wall of blue from the ground to cover her husband. Harry dove through the hole and his feet almost caught on part of the rebuilding but he twisted and sailed through intact. A screech of rage followed him as he leapt and an uncontrollable flare of white fire exploded from their pursuer. Their shields fractured and shattered as the fiery power leapt across the room and the entire wall disintegrated at its touch. Their wands moved together and two more sheets of blue popped into existence around them as the strike cascaded around them. Their shields splintered as the onslaught battered them down to nothingness. Tentacles of light threw them apart, wrapping them up in ropes of cool fire and their enemy stepped through the destruction she had wrought. Her face was hidden by the hood of her robe, an intricately beautiful construct of crimson and silver, but it was clear that she was a woman. She gestured slightly with her hands and her prisoners floated towards her, their wands bound by their sides. She pulled from her robes a gleaming blade of liquid silver and gestured again. Harry and Hermione's wands leapt from their hands and the bindings around them vanished, dropping them unceremoniously to the ground and their captor swept her gaze over them.

“So, this is all that I was to catch?” She drawled mockingly, her voice melodic and almost entrancing in itself. “I see no great power here, but then I guess that power is always hidden by ineptitude.” Harry started at that, and she turned slightly, her smile full of contempt. “Just because you destroyed one of our toys, little `hero', that doesn't make you powerful.” She laughed scornfully and Harry's head snapped back as if he had been slapped.

“Vol…Voldemort was a toy to you?” he whispered, aghast.

“Oh yes, a toy, albeit a flawed one.” She replied, seeming to take joy in his shock. “But he served his purpose, he drew you out. And now,” She glided across the ground towards him and raised her knife, “now you will release a foe so powerful that it will make what Voldemort did seem like a pinprick.”

She placed her wrist alongside his, palm up, and twisted his hand around to match. Harry attempted to struggle against her grip, but she merely tightened her bindings on him to the point where he could not even twitch. But regardless, he still tried to twist free of her grip as she placed the roiling blade onto his wrist and began chanting. Then he saw Hermione, her hands stretching out towards their fallen wands and realised that the concentration it was taking to cast this atrocity was weakening the bindings. Hermione gasped soundlessly as she twisted in the grip of the binding spells, reaching desperately for her wand. Her fingers closed about it and as her hand rose, her mind screamed an incantation. A bolt of red light flashed from her wand and shattered on a ripple in the air. Their captor didn't even twitch, but paused in her chant. “You know, that wasn't a particularly good idea.” She said with a gentleness that made Harry shudder. “An attack deserves retaliation.” She paused again and then her voice turned gleeful. “You know, I've read about bond feedback, but I've never been able to test it. I don't think my masters would deny me this response.” She laughed, an eerie tinkle that set Hermione's teeth on edge, and then spun on the spot, pointed her hand at Hermione and slashed her knife down Harry's arm, tickling his skin with the blade, but not drawing blood. Hermione screamed.

“Ah! So it does work.” She exclaimed gleefully, “I knew I should have given him an easier death.” She thrust her knife again at Harry, aiming at his heart and stopping just short of his skin and squealed with laughter as Hermione collapsed into a ball of shrieking pain. She turned back to Harry. “Don't try another spell my dear, or you'll find out what it's like to have your chest cut out.” She resumed her chanting and as words spilled out of her, a circle of fire started to build up around her. She had forgotten one thing though, Harry thought, Hermione still held her wand and she had been tortured before in the war. He saw her straighten once more and this time she spoke her spell as she pointed her wand at herself.

“Relashio.”

The bindings, already weakened by her twisting and the lack of concentration devoted to them, collapsed in on themselves and she fell weakly to the ground. But she kept her focus, and she spoke again the spell, pointing her wand at Harry. He felt the bindings slip slightly, just enough for limited movement and he pulled his wrist out of alignment. The mage whirled again, a corona of light building around her hands and Hermione screamed her spell again. “Relashio!” Harry's bindings shattered and as he fell her hurled himself towards their enemy. But she was faster, far faster than she appeared. She spun, her robe spinning around her and slashed his arm open from shoulder to elbow. He grunted with pain, hitting the ground hard and rolling towards his wand as Hermione collapsed again, the mage-made bond transmitting the pain a hundred-fold. Harry grabbed his wand and then flung himself towards his wife as a web of fire slashed out towards them. He grabbed her arm, closed his eyes and twisted slightly. There was a crack and the couple vanished, escaped again.

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