Kris felt the winter breeze hit his face full on as he climbed out of a hatchet and onto the roof of the highest building in knockturn alley. The landscape was a blur, however he focussed and saw Big Ben in the distance. It chimed. A death toll? Most definatley. He walked up to the edge of the roof and threw his hands into the air and let out a chronic, wounded sound - one an animal might make if it has recently sustained a wound.

"Why." He screamed it as a statement, not a question. He had only blamed himself - the last thing he had said to his brothers was to "f*ck off" - they had scolded him. And now, he would give his limbs to bring them back. The breeze was more resistant, it was fighting to keep him alive.

But at this moment, Kris didn't think anything would.