Life's like an hourglasses glued to the table, no one can find the rewind button now so breathe. Just breathe.

The keys dropped from Amelia's hands with a clang onto the kitchen worktop. What another waste of a morning. Amelia had woke early, ventured to Spinners End in hope to get a further lead on where Hallie could be but? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

After apparating at the bottom end of the heavily polluted street Amelia had made her way along the terraced house street, coming to a stop at the Yewbeams home. She knocked four times before Pansy finally reached the door. She recognised the lady, in fact she had sat next to her at Hallie's graduation ceremony. It really was a small world, but at least Amelia knew one thing she must have the right house.

'I'm here to see Henry, Mrs Yewbeam.' Amelia stated politely. There was no need to go barging in being rude about the whole thing, especially seeing as Amelia had no actual evidence it was Henry Yewbeam who'd abducted her daughter. 

'Here's out.' Pansy replied, a slight glaze hovering over her cornea. 

'Do you know when he'll be back? It's quiet important.' Amelia pressed. Although it wasn't much good Pansy simply shrugged, stated he hadn't been home a lot lately and asked if she could pass on a message.

'Oh no, it's okay. I'll try again another time. Sorry to bother you.' and with that polite end to their rendezvous Amelia turned on her heel and apparated back to the Lake District: Cooper Cottage.

Sighing heavily Amelia crept upstairs, peered into Toby's bedroom to find the curtains still closed and that her son was safe. Breathing heavily and half uncovered, but safe. 

Now she needed to write to Theodore, tell him her visit to the Yewbeams had been a waste of time and that they were back to square one. Or were they? Pansy had told Amelia her son had been out a lot recently, what if he was with Hallie? Holding her hostage? She needed to return, Amelia needed to go back to Mrs Yewbeam and find out more. Perhaps a less Mrs-sweet-face and more Mrs-I-Want-My-Daughter-bAck-Or-Else attitude would be necessary. 

Hurrying downstairs, grasping her travelling cloak and keys Amelia wrenched the door open. Although she didn't apparate to Spinners End... 

There was no need to kill when the Potter would act on blood instinct. Henry Yewbeam would live eventually, perhaps. Whether Hallie would or not, that was not certain. The idea that she could die, that she could disappear into whatever essence breathed itself into their world made Theodore Rookwood half-wish that he could have, should have killed him, that he hadn’t waited so long. But he hadn’t. He’d spared him, right or wrongly, and now it was his wife who might not live, who might lose herself for absence. He knew where he needed to go. Home.

The door opened just as Theodore apparated onto the grounds of the Lake District cottage and he managed to exhale an exhausted breath as Amelia took in the sight before her. Theodore swallowed back his fatigue and pressed forward, sliding by her and into the house, not stopping for a further breath until he’d tossed the contents off of the dining table and laid Hallie down.

Theodore collapsed into one of the chairs, no longer able to keep himself up, and took out his wand. He knew what spell he needed. He knew how to make it work. He understood how to get it to send the message he needed. He just needed the happy thought. He needed the happiness. He needed the memory. He found it, too. He found her. The way she had looked on their wedding day, the way she had smiled despite everything, despite who he was, despite what was happening.

Throwing his arm forward, a strong Patronus exploded from the end of Theodore’s wand and danced out through the window, thundering through the sky and leaving in its wake a rain that had been threatening to fall since the day that she had gone, left them. The rain would wash away the anguish, the pain.

Theodore dropped his wand and lowered his head to the table, resting his forehead on the wood for a moment before lifting it, taking in the mess that was the woman that he had called wife. That he was sure one day, if she lived to tell the tale, he’d call love.

“It was him.” Theodore whispered, hollowly. “Henry Yewbeam. Ivanov… I sent…”

Wonder set in him as he realised he had cast it. He’d cast the spell that had eluded him all those years. Theodore’s lips quirked a little before turning his gaze back to Amelia.

“Loathe me for it later but regardless of whether she lives through this or… or not… I will punish him every day for what he has done to us.”

Theodore’s fingers snaked out and curled around Hallie’s hand, managing to hold off the sudden anguish that had welled up within him.

“I’ll make him regret it.”

The keys in Amelia's hand dropped to the floor, along with her mouth. The grey-blue eyes widened in horror at the sight before her. There was no need to go to Spinners End, no need to question Henry Yewbeam about the whereabouts of her daughter for her daughter was held before her in the arms of Theodore.

Anchored to the spot as though nearby trees had uplifted their roots and coiled them tightly around Amelia's legs the Mother simply watched, lungs gasping heavily, as Theodore strode past her into the house. Her daughter was, was she, was she alive? Her hair was mattered and her face bloody and bruised. As for her leg... Amelia wished she hadn't seen the unusual colour it was, nor had she wanted to see the blackened bone protruding from above her ankle.

'Theodore, Theodore. Is she. Is she alive?' Amelia cried after finally finding her feet and scurrying into the house not bothering to close to the door behind her. Upon reaching the doorway to the kitchen Amelia paused, two hands rising to hide her mouth.

It wasn't a pretty sight, seeing her daughter laid onto the kitchen table. One slow step at a time Amelia crept to the table besides Hallie. Her hand brushed against her forehead and stroked her what used to be blonde hair. She must have hit her head a while back given the fact none of the blood was soaking into Amelia's skin. Who would do such a thing to her daughter? Her daughter was innocent, only looking out for the greater good and it didn't make sense that Henry Yewbeam would do this either? Irregardless of what Theodore claimed.

Amelia clasped her own hand around Theodore's and Hallie's. 'No.' She said softly. 'He'll be going to Azkaban, Theodore.' There was no need for the Professor to say anymore, after all what was there to say.

To any other Mother who was watching the scene they'd probably be shouting at Amelia, wondering how she was keeping so calm. With her history as a Mother losing a child, twice, being calm was the only way to fight the pain inside. She'd discovered that after Toby had vanished. The day she had trained herself to be an occlumens, to empty the thoughts and discipline her mind.

Retracting her hand Amelia walked to a cupboard and opened it. From there she reached up and extracted a plastic basket containing the households first aid supplies.

'If Ivanov is coming we should have everything ready.' Mrs Cooper told Theodore. Inside the basket were bandages, simple muggle bandages along with plasters, scissors, disinfectant solution and an assortment of other potions: mostly the basic kind of antidotes, burn mending paste, cure for boils, coagulant concoctions to control bleeding. It wasn't St Mungo's but it was better than nothing.

'Everything will be okay, Theodore.' There it was, that soft reassuring tone once again.

It hadn’t quite been the evening that Cael had intended on seeing blow past. Through the living room window of his flat, a silvery Patronus in the form of a Siberian husky stormed. Suddenly, Theodore Rookwood’s voice filled the small box he called his home. It sounded remarkably similar to the way it did that night in St. Mungo’s and immediately, concern jumped up within Cael. He donned his coat, picked up his medical bag and followed the retreating Patronus, apparating after it with an audible crack.

Cael appeared on the doorstep of the Cooper Cottage and his hand found the doorknob immediately, wrenching it to openness. To his fear and to his relief he didn’t have to look far but when he set his eyes on Hallie his whole body froze up and Cael was transplanted back into battle, seeing his comrades, the people he loved, falling around him, debilitated and dying from wounds that the wizard would have been able to fix but the Muggle he masqueraded as to do his service could not.

“Ivanov!”

Theodore’s snap ripped Cael from his reverie and the elder wizard stalked forward, dumping the bag at the bottom of the table with the other things Amelia had set out. He quickly rolled up his sleeves and picked up a bottle of antiseptic gel. With that rubbed into his hands he took sight of the leg that looked as though it had about given up the ghost. In fact, it had completely. Cael bit his lip before turning to the bandages. He cut a bit off with his wand and folded it over once before pulling it as far as possible.

“Wrap that around her leg, would you, Amelia?” Cael instructed, holding out the bandage. “As tight as possible. We need to cut off blood flow.”

“Excuse me?” Theodore spluttered, rising from his chair, wand in hand.

Cael held up his hands. “We can regrow it.”

“Excuse me?” Theodore pressed, his anger rising.

“Look at it. It’s as infected as you like. The leg needs to go. If she wants a funky prosthetic for a while until it heels and we can start re-growing, fine. Whatever works. By the look of it though…” Cael bit his lip again before looking at Theo. “See to her head wound.”

Theodore didn’t need to be told twice and he managed to procure a bowl of warm water and a sponge with surprising speed. Part of Cael acknowledged Theodore could’ve been a fine Doctor before he set to work himself, checking for other injuries. Her nose needed to be dealt with but that would come with time as it wasn’t particularly pressing. He needed to check if there was anything else. Any internal damage beyond the infection.

“She’s going to live?” Theodore inquired, bringing the sponge over her head and face, washing away the dirt, blood and grime.

Cael looked up and smiled a little bit. “Yeah. And then some. Don’t worry. She’s a fighter.”

The sound of the door closing caught Amelia's attention, which had diverted back to Hallie's closed eyes once again. She looked to peaceful, it was funny how the injured got to a point in their pain where it vanished. Evaporated from their nervous system. Left their body and left behind tranquility.

Amelia didn't say anything, she simply smiled reassuringly at Ivanov's arrival. Taking the bandage from the healer she began to wrap it around Hallie's leg before pausing. What?

Clearly Theodore was thinking the exact same thing as her. Was Ivanov going to take Hallie's leg? Surely it was salvageable, yes it was infected badly by the looks of things but Hallie needed her leg. She was a trainee auror, an adventurous young girl who needed a leg. Her leg mean't everything.

There it was. The words slipped so casually from Ivanov's mouth. Amelia wasn't going to let this happen, she wasn't going to stand back and watch Theodore simply let this healer take her daughters leg. If Hallie ever knew that her Mother had simply stood by and watched... Amelia dreaded to think.

'No. We'll take her to St Mungo's!' Amelia protested, letting go of the bandage so it fell limply across her daughters leg. 'Sophia will have a plan, she'll know a way to save it' She raised a hand to silence Ivanov before he could interrupt, if he was planning to say something. 'And before you say you can regrow it I don't care. My daughter needs her leg!'

Much to his surprise, Theodore was a lot more amiable about hacking at his wife than said wife’s mother was. Cael turned his gaze to Amelia and for a second he could see Jack’s mother instead of Hallie’s and the way she had scolded him, spat her vitriol at him for failing to save her son – as though Cael didn’t hate himself for it every single day. There was a woman who wanted to save her daughter in every way bar the necessary way. There was reason why operations didn’t occur with families present.

“She’ll look plenty pretty in that big box you’ll bury her in, then,” Cael shot back. “Lovely legs. Lovely dead, two-legged daughter.”

Theodore seemed to rise, stirring at the idea that she could die, but a look from Cael set him back to his work. The Healer picked up his wand and flicked it at the bandage, setting it to rights tight about Hallie’s thigh. There was no time to argue about it. With a flick of his wand he called the paste to him that would prevent the bleeding when it finally came a time to discard the offending material. It would be fine in the end. It would all regrow if she wanted it to. It would be painful but she’d be two-legged and alive instead of two-legged in the instant and dead, too.

“This isn’t salvageable. Salvageable would take days. The infection is here.” Cael pointed at Hallie’s hip. “And it will have her internal organs and she will die. We need to act now. We need to take it off now. It’s dead. It’s gone. She will be too if we’re not fast.”

Amelia didn't reply she simply stared at Ivanov before stepping back, drawing up a chair and grasping hold of Hallie's hand. It was clear her daughter would soon be legless, possibly have some sort of peg leg until they could regrow her leg. Of course that's if Hallie wanted her leg grown back, it was a painful recovery and could put her out of work for months compared to a prosthetic.

'Mummy's here.' Amelia whispered in her ear her eyes set deeply onto Hallie's closed. She couldn't watch the amputation, it was bad enough that she would hear it, smell it the cut off flesh.

She knew Hallie wouldn't understand, knowing Hallie she would say they should have let her die. Not that her daughter would have mean't that but Hallie never was one to think about things she should say. Either way if cutting off the leg would save her life then so be it. Amelia had lost Toby before and had recently lost Hallie, she wasn't about to lose her daughter once more.

It didn’t surprise Cael to see Amelia back down after his outburst, his damning threat that if he didn’t do what he’d need to then Hallie would die. It did surprise Theodore, however, who stared at his mother-in-law, suddenly feeling very much like the spare part as he was reminded that while he was married to Hallie he had about as much right to her and her welfare as a stranger in the street. It wasn’t really a marriage. It was some sort of asinine waiting game in which they all suffered just enough to make them rethink it but not nearly enough to make it a wholly unpleasant experience.

Theodore watched as Cael applied the paste which would stop the bleeding. He seemed to want it to slow internally before he started cutting at the leg. If possible, the unholy shade the limb was seemed to darken and Cael took a breath before uttering a severing spell which began the first preliminary cut through the skin. Theodore felt all of the heat in his body evaporate away at the sight of the blood rising eagerly to the surface, spilling out through the incision. Cael seemed to wait a second and looked at the cut before hastily applying more of the paste, halting the blood in its tracks.

Amelia wouldn’t ever be able to use that table again.

Another incision was made and another and Cael worked as rhythmically as a butcher with good intentions could until finally the bleeding stopped all together and the infected leg was pulled away along with the last of that side of her trousers. Theodore was thankful some modesty was maintained for Hallie’s sake but there it was. As if nothing at all had happened, Cael moved onto the head wound and her nose before the rest of the little knocks and bruises, righting small fractures here and there, applying healing paste nigh everywhere before turning his attention back to the space where her leg once had been.

Bandages followed and there, as if nothing happened it was done.

“What now?” Theodore asked impatiently.

Cael looked up, his eyes clouded with sudden thought but he answered well enough regardless.

“Expect a lot of sleeping and a fever. Then when she wakes up make sure you fill her up with fluids and fresh food. Not too much in terms of solids just yet but if we’re talking veg then a ratatouille would be an idea. Soups. That sort of thing. I’m going to stay for a while. She’s not out of the woods yet but hopefully if we get her washed off we can put more secure bandages and casts on and then get her into bed. Also, there is the possibility that when she wakes up she’ll be in a foul mood so good luck mate.”

“Cheers,” Theo griped. “But she’s fine.”

“No, not yet. She won’t be fine for a while but she’s alive. That’s the blessing we have to take from this right now. Amelia, what would be the best way to get her clean?”

It started. She'd tried to embrace herself for what was about to happen but no amount of psychological preparation could have prepared a Mother for what was happening. Amelia could hear the sound of Hallie's flesh tearing whilst Ivanov hacked away at the leg.

This will keep her alive. Amelia repeated over and over in her head, forcing herself not to watch as blood trickled across the table and down onto her lap. She could clean it later, it wasn't important. For any Mother it would have been difficult to have your daughters blood trailing onto your coat (which Amelia hadn't taken off) but she couldn't scream, nor could she order Ivanov to stop. This will keep her alive.

It seemed a lifetime had passed in the time it took before Ivanov announced job complete. Standing up Amelia winced at the sight of her daughters leg, greying already as it lay forgotten as though it were an outcast. The leg needed to go, be taken somewhere Hallie would never find it. The ocean seemed a good place, but it sure as hell would freak holidaymakers if that diseased thing got washed onto a child's sandcastle.

It was a good job Theodore had asked what the next stage was for Amelia was too repulsed about what she'd allowed happen. She'd had let Ivanov remove her daughters leg, where had the fight inside of her been? Sophia may have been able to save it, she hadn't even gave the witch a chance - the witch that had saved Hallie and her friends lives countless times.

'No. She doesn't like french food.' Amelia spoke, her eyes still glued on the leg Ivanov had propped against the table. 'Vegetable soup, plain, simply. She used to love collecting the vegetables from the garden with me, always going for the ones that weren't ripe. She said they were cuter.' A teary-sounding chuckle escaped the Mother yet there were no tears. There were never tears. Having been through so many battles, being broken so many times, the tears are simply halted by an iron casing.

At last Amelia looked up to Ivanov, her hand still holding her daughters hand. 'I'll take her to the bathroom, clean her then lie her in her bed. Once she seems settled I'll come down and wipe this.' She momentarily went light headed. 'Wipe the blood up before Toby wakes, which he probably will soon seeing as it's past midday.'

From the moment Toby woke up, he could tell that something was not right in the house. He couldn't tell why, but his skin was practically crawling.  Not bothering to change out of his pajamas, the werewolf climbed out of bed as silently as he could. Clutching his wand in one hand and a knife that his mother certainly didn't know he had in the other, the teenager headed towards the staircase.

From halfway down the steps, Toby had full view of exactly what was happening on the kitchen table. Hallie was laying there, unconscious and bleeding, and Toby's heart leapt up into his throat. The blonde found himself completely unable to move, frozen in shock at the events that were unfolding before his very eyes. His pleasure at Hallie having returned home didn't even register, the amount of blood seeming far more important.

The werewolf was basically as far from squeamish as a human could be. He'd hunted, slaughtered, and cooked deer with his Pack, back when he'd been a part of it. He'd watched as the parents of his friends tore each other apart on the full moon, fighting for dominance. He'd bandaged his own injuries, as well as the wounds of others more times than he could count, back when he'd lived in the forests. His friends had joked that he'd be pack medic one day, with the way he obsessively treated any injury in sight. But this was different, this was Hallie. Toby felt like he couldn't breathe.

The teenager stood there, watching as his sister's leg was removed. Toby knew that she'd be furious the moment that she awoke, but he'd take care of that. His mother had been forced to make the terrible call, and she certainly didn't deserve to be chewed out for it. Toby wouldn't be afraid to shout back though, afraid to make his sister see sense.

It was then that the werewolf realized that he needed to be the strong one right now. Hallie would be suffering physically, and his mum emotionally. It was time for Toby to be the man of the house. Tucking his knife carelessly through the belt-loop of his robe, Toby completed his trip down the staircase.

"Don't bother mum," Toby stated, coming up behind the witch and laying a hand on her shoulder, "I've already seen it."