The Witching Hour (Harry Potter/Twilight Crossover)

Chapter Seventeen:

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:

The emaciated girl, skin white as a vampire's, yet whose body showed the fragility the marble-skinned creatures never could, was curled up in the corner of the dim cell, hugging her knees to her chest. This wasn't an unusual situation- it was cold down in the cellar, very cold. Sometimes she and Mr. Ollivander cuddled together, trying to preserve some sort of warmth

But Mr. Ollivander wasn't well today- she could hear him shivering, yet his body was burning up. Luna had sacrificed some of her meager supply of water to wet a torn piece of fabric to place over his forehead, trying to cool his fever. It wasn't working, and Luna was scared, oh so very scared. Because she didn't want to be alone, down in this dark, dank hole of despair.

Raised voices in the rooms above her pierced the silence of the cellar, and Luna's ears pricked slightly, her head starting to beat quicker in her chest.

Was this what the Nargles had been telling her? She wondered. Her body was trembling, except this time it wasn't the cold that was doing it, rather a mix of fear and excitement.

"HERMIONE! HERMIONE!" a voice started shouting, over and over, and Luna's heart leapt in her chest.

She knew that voice- she knew it oh so very well.

That's why she wasn't surprised in the slightest when the door of the cellar was flung open, revealing two very familiar figures. One of them was tall and gangly, with freckles and red hair. And the other, the other was someone who held a very special place in her heart. Despite the way his features were swollen and shiny red, she knew who he was, she knew his messy black hair and those vivid, vivid green eyes.

Harry Potter was here. And this, this was the test, where everything would either come together, or fall apart.

Whether she lived or died would depend on the next hour or two. But either way, she would finally be free of this cellar, this prison- either Harry would free her, or death would.

-

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The Portkey takes us to Mercato Magia, the Wizarding equivalent to Morte Alley in Florence, Italy. Alice looks completely disorientated, and I'm reminded that this is the first time she's ever used a Portkey- first times are always hard. I remember throwing up all over myself, and I wasn't using an International one at the time!

"Where are we?" she groans, rubbing her eyes.

"Mercato Magia," I tell her, "its somewhere in Florence. Around a hundred kilometers from Tuscany."

"So we're in Italy," Alice says, slowly, and a fierce smile crosses her face. "Excellent!" Her eyes suddenly go blank, and my stomach crawls with nerves at the sign of the vision.

"Al?" I say, when her eyes focus again, "what's wrong?"

"It's not wrong, exactly." She looked grim. "It's not right, either, though; Edward just reached Volterra."

"How far away is Volterra?" I ask, stomach crawling with nerves.

"Is there any magical way we can get there?" she presses, and I shake my head.

"No," I say, quietly, "I've never been there so I can't apparate, and there's no wizarding market place in Volterra for us to Portkey to. How... Alice, how far is Florence from Volterra?"

"That depends on how fast you drive... Bella?"

"Yes?" She eyed me speculatively. "How strongly are you opposed to grand theft auto?"