Ember. It means fire. Ember was never safe. Even before she was born she was coverted. Hunted. She's the last of her kind. Once there were many. Once there were four. Four families. One for each element. Air. Water. Earth. Fire. Every other family e...
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"I think she's having a panic attack!" Hermione said.
"Ember breath!" Harry urged coming to her side. "Ember look at me!"
"What do we do?" Ron said panicked.
"We have to snap her out of it!" Hermione rambled.
"How?!" Harry yelled as Ember was turning were from lack of oxygen.
"Oh Ember. I am sorry about this!" Hermione said and then she struck Ember across the face.
"How is that supposed to help?" Ron yelled.
"Take her mind, temporarily, off what she's panicking about." Hermione panted.
Ember's breath did steady but her eyes were wide with fear, tears spilling out of them.
"Ember look at me!" Harry said, coming the kneel infant of me. Ember's frantic coal black eyes met Harry's emerald green ones. "We'll get her back, okay? We'll help you get her back!"
As August wore on, the grass outside shriveled in the sun until it was brittle and brown. Kreacher had begged to be able to stay with his Mistress while she was so distraught. He had begged. And it actually was nice having Kreacher with them. The grass in the back garden wasn't like the grass outside houses boundaries thanks to Kreacher's attentiveness to the flowers and grass. Kreacher also took over the cooking fr Ember as they planned to break Maddie out of the Ministry.
Barely a day passed without one or two people arriving outside of Courtenay Avenue with no other purpose then to stare at the empty field which held the concealed house of 62 Courtenay Avenue.
The lurkers were never the same two days running, although they all seemed to share a dislike for normal clothing. Most of the Londoners who passed them were used to eccentric dressers and took little notice, though occasionally one of them might glance back, wondering why anyone would wear such long cloaks in this heat.
The watchers seemed to be gleaning little satisfaction from their vigil. Occasionally one of them started forward excitedly, as if they had seen something interesting at last, only to fall back looking disappointed.
On the first day of September there were more people lurking in the square than ever before. Half a dozen men in long cloaks stood silent and watchful, gazing as ever at the empty field, but the thing for which they were waiting still appeared elusive. As evening drew in, bringing with it an unexpected gust of chilly rain for the first time in weeks, there occurred one of those inexplicable moments when they appeared to have seen something interesting. The man with the twisted face pointed and his closest companion, a podgy, pallid man, started forward, but a moment later they had relaxed into their previous state of inactivity, looking frustrated and disappointed.
Meanwhile, inside number sixty two, Harry had just entered the hall. He had nearly lost his balance as he Apparated onto the doorstep just outside the front door, and thought that the Death Eaters might have caught a glimpse of his momentarily exposed elbow. Shutting the front door carefully behind him, he pulled off the Invisibility Cloak, draped it over his arm, and hurried along the gloomy hallway toward the door that led to the basement, a stolen copy of the Daily Prophet clutched in his hand.
