Who: Harry, Remus, & Sirius What: Harry's arrived! They're coming to get him. When: Monday night Where: the apartment Harry ended up in Warnings: LOTS OF FEELS. mostly of the angsty variety. but probably some good, too.
"NOW!" Harry yelled; he didn't think he could have held on for another moment anyway - he pulled his wand upward with an almighty wrench, and the golden thread broke; the cage of light vanished, the phoenix song died - but the shadowy figures of Voldemort's victims did not disappear - they were closing in upon Voldemort, shielding Harry from his gaze And Harry ran as he had never run in his life, knocking two stunned Death Eaters aside as he passed; he zigzagged behind headstones, feeling their curses following him, hearing them hit the headstones - he was dodging curses and graves, pelting toward Cedric's body, no longer aware of the pain in his leg, his whole being concentrated on what he had to do. "Stun him!" he heard Voldemort scream.
Ten feet from Cedric, Harry dived behind a marble angel to avoid the jets of red light and saw the tip of its wing shatter as the spells hit it. Gripping his wand more tightly, he dashed out from behind the angel. "Impedimenta!" he bellowed, pointing his wand wildly over his shoulder at the Death Eaters running at him.
From a muffled yell, he thought he had stopped at least one of them, but there was no time to stop and look; he jumped over the cup and dived as he heard more wand blasts behind him; more jets of light flew over his head as he fell, stretching out his hand to grab Cedric's arm... and missed. Instead of hitting the graveyard ground, he hit cold tile, rolled and crashed into something hard. Disoriented, he struggled to his feet, whipping around to see where Cedric had gone. There were no Death Eaters, either, just a kitchen, bathed in yellow evening light from the window. He rushed to the window, and looked down in confusion at the empty street below.
Disoriented, half-convinced that he'd hit his head on a gravestone, or that he was dead and this was the afterlife, it had taken him quite a while to get his bearings. At least, it felt like a while-- it might only have been minutes, because the sun hadn't quite gone down yet. But finally, as adrenaline began to wear off and the aches and pains in various parts of his body made themselves known, his head started to clear. But then he didn't know what to do. He was in a kitchen in the middle of a city that he didn't recognize, he didn't know how to apparate. Summoning the portkey didn't work.
Trying not to panic, Harry considered the apartment's phone, but didn't know who to call; no one at Hogwarts had phones. There was no fireplace, and no Floo Powder, and he didn't have a broom. He wasn't even sure he could make it far on a broom anyway, with the way his entire body felt shaky and his nerves raw. He certainly wasn't going to make it walking; adrenaline had allowed him to run on his injured leg and ankle, but now that it had worn off, he was all too aware of how difficult it was to support his own weight. Unable to stand up any longer, he sat down in a chair and closed his eyes-- and had almost managed to relax just a fraction when he heard a small, electronic sounding noise.
Startled, he looked around for the source of it, and found a small gadget nearby. It took him a few minutes to figure out how to work it, and to make a post for help; he didn't really expect a response, but was taken completely by surprise when first Remus, then Sirius, then Snape responded to him. He didn't know what to make of the fact that they were here, that they looked different than he remembered, that they were using non-magical technology that was even more advanced than Harry was strictly comfortable with, but he was too exhausted-- both physically and emotionally-- to ask those questions. Instead, he gave in to their requests to tell them where he was, and then sat back to wait.