'You have all used a Portkey before?' asked Dumbledore, and they nodded, each reaching out to touch some part of the black- ened kettle. 'Good. On the count of three, then ... one ... two ...'
It happened in a fraction of a second: in the infinitesimal pause before Dumbledore said 'three', Kirra looked up at him – they were very close together – and Dumbledore's clear blue gaze moved from the Portkey to Kirra's face.
At once, Kirra's scar burned white-hot, as though the old wound had burst open again – and unbidden, unwanted, but terrifyingly strong, there rose within Kirra a hatred so powerful she felt, for that instant, she would like nothing better than to strike – to curse – to attack the man before her –
'... three.'
Kirra felt a powerful jerk behind her navel, the ground vanished from beneath her feet, her hand was glued to the kettle; she was banging into the others as they all sped forwards in a swirl of colours and a rush of wind, the kettle pulling them onwards ... until her feet hit the ground so hard her knees buckled, the kettle clattered to the ground, and somewhere close at hand a voice said:
'Back again, the blood-traitor brats. Is it true their father's dying?'
'OUT!' roared a second voice.
Kirra scrambled to her feet and looked around; they had arrived in the gloomy basement kitchen of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. The only sources of light were the fire and one guttering candle, which illuminated the remains of a solitary supper. Kreacher was disappearing through the door to the hall, looking back at them malevolently as he hitched up his loincloth; Sirius was hurrying towards them all, looking anxious. He was unshaven and still in his day clothes; there was also a slightly Mundungus-like whiff of stale drink about him.
'What's going on?' he said, stretching out a hand to help Ginny up. 'Phineas Nigellus said Arthur's been badly injured –'
'Ask Harry or Kirra,' said Fred.
'Yeah, I want to hear this for myself,' said George. The twins and Ginny were staring at them
Kreacher's footsteps had stopped on the stairs outside.
'It was –' Harry began; this was even worse than telling McGonagall and Dumbledore. 'I had a – a kind of – vision ...' And he told them all that he had seen, though he altered the story so that it sounded as though he had watched from the sidelines (like Kirra had) as the snake attacked, rather than from behind the snake's own eyes.
Ron, who was still very white, gave him a fleeting look, but did not speak. When Harry had finished, Fred, George and Ginny continued to stare at him for a moment. Harry did not know whether he was imagining it or not, but he fancied there was something accusatory in their looks.
Well, if they were going to blame him just for seeing the attack, he was glad he had not told them that he had been inside the snake at the time.
'Is Mum here?' said Fred, turning to Sirius.
'She probably doesn't even know what's happened yet,' said Sirius.
'The important thing was to get you away before Umbridge could interfere. I expect Dumbledore's letting Molly know now.'
'We've got to go to St Mungo's,' said Ginny urgently. She looked around at her brothers; they were of course still in their pyjamas. 'Sirius, can you lend us cloaks or anything?'
'Hang on, you can't go tearing off to St Mungo's!' said Sirius.
'Course we can go to St Mungo's if we want,' said Fred, with a mulish expression. 'He's our dad!'

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Reflections - Mattheo Riddle
FanfictionBook 2 of 'Stay - Mattheo Riddle' 𝙒𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙘𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙄 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙠𝙣𝙚𝙬 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙁𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙨 𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙄'𝙙 𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙚 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙩�...