They trudged down a dark, dank lane toward a village, the silence was broken only by their footsteps. The sky lightened very slowly as they made their way through the village, its inky blackness diluting to deepest blue. Everyone's hands and feet were freezing. Mr Weasley kept checking his watch. They didn't have breath to spare for talking as they began to climb Stoatshead Hill, stumbling occasionally in hidden rabbit holes, slipping on thick black tuffets of grass. Each breath Harry took was sharp in his chest and his legs were starting to seize up when, at last, his feet found level ground. "Whew." Mr Weasley panted, taking off his glasses and wiping them on his sweater. "Well, we've made good time- we've got Ten minutes." Hermione came over the crest of the hill last, clutching a stitch in her side. "Now we just need the Portkey, it won't be big, come on." Mr Weasley said, replacing his glasses and squinting around at the ground. 