I was only going to the market because I had been too lazy to thaw out the chicken I had in the freezer. Okay, fine, not lazy; I'd just plain forgotten. Again. I used to be good at remembering stuff like that, and it was my combined frustration over my lingering memory lapses as well as the never-ending rain in Northern England that spring that had me so busy fuming I didn't really notice the oddly dressed guy at the end of the lane.

Well, not until he pointed at me and yelled something that sounded like "Abra-cadabra" (but wasn't), and then the bright fucking flash of light that had me stumbling on the cobblestones in the lane and fall flat on my ass, knocked my head into the light post nearby and fell over, blinded and dazed. And probably on the verge of another damned seizure—perhaps it was my sheer fury over that that prevented the seizure. I'll never know. I do know I was so livid, I just lay there, stupid, wet, pissed off, and getting wetter and madder by the minute. Blind.

Damn, the lingering flashes were starting to morph into a migraine. Well, obviously. What could have been a more fitting end to this shit-ass day?

I blinked finally, to try to clear my vision, only to hear someone crouched next to me whisper urgently, "Don't move! Stay perfectly still!"

Months in the hospital and rehab after that had conditioned me to listen to medical types, so I did as I was told. My vision was clearing very slowly, so I wasn't immediately concerned that my EMT appeared to be wearing college graduation robes nor that he had a beard longer than my upper arm. Granted, such detailed hallucinations were not a normal occurrence, but since my head injury 18 months ago, so little in my life could be filed under the heading of 'normal,' I wasn't particularly disturbed by it.

Then another oddly dressed person arrived within my vision. And a third. And they were whispering together, so I could only hear bits and pieces of their conversation.

"No, she's the only one."

"But how?"

"Gun fund. Us….."

Beard Guy turned to me, pointed a stick at me and repeated something close to that last bit, with a puzzled expression. As if he had an expectation that I should have been responding in a way that I clearly was not.

He did it again.

"May I sit up now?"

"Certainly." A typical British gentleman, he was unfailingly polite, helping me to sit up. "What do you remember?"

How many times have I answered THAT question in the last 18 months? And how nice to know they weren't talking about the accident. Well, not THAT accident. A new one. Joy.

"Not much. Guy pointed at me, yelled something I didn't understand and then there was a blinding flash of light and I tripped and fell." I could feel the shakes begin and knew I needed to get home fast, get something dry on and maybe I'd just have soup for dinner. Even I should be able to manage opening a can, right?

And then the other two men moved and I could see the busy market place was littered with…bodies? Seriously, we were the ONLY people that seemed to be up and moving.

"What happened? What's going on?"

Strange Guy 2 didn't answer me. He turned to Beard Guy and said, "Use the Memory Charm, Professor."

"I did, Arthur. You saw me do it. It does not appear to be working."

None of this was making any sense, but I was less disturbed about it than I might have been otherwise, because I could feel chills taking over and was unable to stop shivering. At this point, I doubt I could have stood on my own, and they must have realized because they helped me up and began moving me out of the square.

"You…you're g..g..going the wr….wroo..wrong way." I protested.

Beard Guy simply said, "We have no time. We're taking you to a safe place."

Yes, in hindsight I realize that I should not have acquiesced as I did, but you had to be there. This guy was SO convincingly ….. caring, is the only word I can describe it. He'd really not done anything to make me trust him, but I did. Also Strange Guy 3 gave me his cape and that was warm and apparently, in a crisis I now have all the survival instincts of a puppy: Feed me, make me warm, and I'll follow you anywhere.

As it happened, it was the right decision, but I take no particular credit for it. I did retain enough sense to ask, "Who ARE you people?"

"I'm Albus Dumbledore."

"I'm Arthur Weasley."

I fainted before Strange Guy 3 could tell me his name.