The night is black when a rough hand lands on my shoulder, followed so fast by a finger to my lips that I don't have time to sound an alarm; good thing, too, because as my eyes quickly adjust, the tall, shadowy figure bent over me becomes my mother.
Compounding the urgency of a midnight wakening, Mom's pale eyes glint with fear even in the dim light. She hands me my ring in the darkness and I fumble with it, almost dropping it when the front door is kicked in with such sudden ferocity that even Mom freezes or a hair of a second.
She recovers quickly and whips her wand out. Even as she sends a blast of magic at the figures bursting through the doorway, we're running through the open interior of the little cabin. Another blast of magic, this time ahead, sends the back door flying apart in splinters, and I raise a hand to shield my eyes from debris as I follow Mom out into the night.
Our pursuers, the same we've been running from for over a year, must've been expecting to catch us more off-guard, as there's none yet waiting behind the cabin.
We sprint for the woods, and as we pass into the edge of the forest, a white-hot spell ricochets off of a sapling just to my right, spurring me faster onwards.
As we've practiced a thousand times, we split up at first opportunity, dividing the dozen or so wizards behind us. I don't dare take the time to look back to see how many still pursue me, though I dig deep into my physical reserves and find the end of my speed.
Another lightning-like bolt of magic connects with a nearby tree, but my physical prowess puts me at enough of an advantage that it isn't long before my weaving, break-neck path begins to put some distance between me and them. I push myself ever forward, still not daring to glance behind.
Some time later, I find myself in less-familiar territory. I chance a slow-down, unwilling to run straight off of a cliff or into a ravine, both featured heavily in the wild landscape. After a few more moments, I've calmed enough to slow my breathing; unfortunate, because with my guard dropped, I don't hear any sort of warning before the cloaked figure flies out from my right, tackling me right to the ground.
Panicked and no longer worried about hiding my own magic use, I blindly cast a disarming spell at the man. Unprepared for the attack, but obviously impeccably trained, his left hand is reaching to catch his wand mid-air, even as the right releases it.
As if to disarm me, he pins my wrists to the forest floor and I struggle futilely under his firm grasp, cursing (not for the first time) my small build.
Before I can figure out my next move, more robed figures appear between the trees, surrounding the two of us, a dozen wands aimed right at me. Prepared to enact my final, last-ditch emergency plan, I glance in anticipation of how I might pull it off. The slightest movement, high in a nearby tree, draws my gaze to a golden owl sitting just back from the scene below.
So slightly that I almost miss it, the owl shakes its head, as my attacker, surrounded safely by backup, pulls me to my feet.
"Are you alright?" he asks, pulling my gaze back down to eye level. Or rather, almost eye level, since me entire height doesn't reach even to the man's shoulder.
I don't reply, and with hardly a whispered "lumos," he lights the tip of his wand, shining it in each of my eyes in turn. I refuse to shy away from the sudden examination, and stare right at the bright light. It isn't long, though, before he withdraws his wand, holding the light back at a more comfortable distance.
"What is your name?" he asks then, almost-conversationally. Still, I give my captors no answer.
"Say the word, and I'll get her talking," one of the others interjects. There's an edge in the voice that chills me, but the dark-haired man questioning me sends him a look that the second man dares not challenge further.
"Do you know your name?" he rephrases, turning his attention to me.
A last, fleeting glance upwards finds the owl gone, and I resign myself to defeat, or as close to it as I can allow.
"I know yours," I say instead, staring up at the strangely familiar face. My voice, unused since I woke what seems like an age ago, takes on a huskier edge.
"You're Harry Potter."