I disclaim the verse of Harry Potter and all those in it - anything that isn't mine is J.K. Rowling's (or Anne Walsh's if it also belongs in the Dangerverse). I am simply a lonely player with a script of far greater works than my own.

Chapter Two:

THE JOURNEY THERE

The Hogwarts Express rolled along the railroad tracks, intent on carrying the students inside to their school.

In one compartment, looking out the foggy window, Harry studied the darkened landscape as the train whizzed by, alternating that with watching the pounding water slide down the window pane. He was alone. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were gone to the prefects' car, and Neville and Luna had just left him after hanging out for a few hours. And so he was left to his thoughts.

He let them hover on the edge of everything he had learned from the Weasleys, Dumbledore, and the occasional visit from Order members at the Burrow. From how the Daily Prophet reacted to the news of You-Know-Who's return, to how deeply contrite they all were for disbelieving Harry and Dumbledore and making them out as frauds. From the latest reports on the Death Eaters, to what the Order was doing to try and halt them in their work. From how both sides had been recuperating from the battle at the Department of Mysteries to how the Minister was faring with leading the Ministry into the fight alongside Dumbledore against Voldemort.

Before any of that had happened, however, his summer had started out like any other.

His first few weeks with the Dursleys had, like every other year before it, been practically uneventful…if you were to count Dudley Dursley, age sixteen, on house arrest something not too extraordinary.

It seemed that, for the first time in their lives, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had seen through their precious son's disguise once he had come home on holiday. Instead of ignoring all the talk of him getting drunk and smoking and simply refusing to believe it all as they had done the previous summer, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had decided to put an end to it.

Harry wasn't quite sure what it was exactly that had convinced them their prized possession wasn't nearly as spotless as they had thought, but he was fairly sure that Mrs. Next Door's cat being found near the town hall drinking whisky out of Dudley's renowned Smeltings wrestling championship cup had something to do with it.

As it was, they finally confronted Dudley and heard all about his habit of going off with his friends and getting drunk—although hearing it from Harry's cousin's point of view, you'd think that Piers Polkiss and his gang were Death Eaters who Imperiused Dudley to get wasted with them. Never mind all the neighbors' reports of him and his friends vandalizing the park and spray-painting the brick walls of property houses or getting caught smoking in the alley-ways.

According to Vernon and Petunia Dursley of Number 4, Privet Drive, they were convinced their son was being blackmailed.

Thus it was Dudley Dursley, for the first time in his life, being kept under lock and key—"For fear of that nasty boy he hangs around with will spoil our dear Dudder-kins and ruin his reputation!" But what exactly they hoped to accomplish by this, Harry did not know, seeing as how Dudley found a way to sneak out every night anyway and come home in the early hours, completely zonked.

But house arrest had quite a few other side-effects, the prominent of which meant that Harry also had to be stuck inside the house during his entire duration there.

Luckily for him, however, he only needed to stay at the Dursleys' for two weeks during that whole summer.

Shortest vacation with them ever. Didn't have to deal with that stupid house arrest long before Dumbledore and the Weasleys owled, saying I could spend the remainder of the holiday at the Burrow…and to look forward to not seeing the Dursleys for the rest of this year, Dumbledore said…

Harry had chuckled at this part—he didn't take Dumbledore as one for this sort of blunt statement, but he was bound to notice how much Harry despised his relatives sooner or later.

So it was a rather pleased Harry that the Knight Bus dropped off near the middle of July at the Weasley household—with Dumbledore as his chaperone, much to Harry's confusion—and it was a gleeful Ron and Ginny who came out to greet him.

The Burrow hadn't been the same without the twins living there that summer, even though they came by to visit on weekends and popped in every now and then to sit back and relax with the family. They had come home every day full of tales of how things were going. The both of them were living in Hogsmeade now, in the rooms above their shop, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

"It's a pity we couldn't get that one place on Diagon Alley we were looking at," said George wistfully one summer day. "We had the place picked out and everything."

"Number ninety-three," Fred reminisced, smiling. "It was the very pinnacle of perfection. Those lazy, no-account bureaucrats…"

"Sold us out, they did. Stabbed our backs, they did."

"But there'll be better business in Hogsmeade anyhow," said Fred. "Hundreds of students, all dying to get the newest pranking devices—and we won't only be having business from the lot of them on Hogsmeade days too—"

"That's right, little ones," said George in a phony announcer's voice not unlike those on the WWN, "For the simple price of two Sickles, you too can own an official owl-to-order catalogue, complete with—"

"—a pricelist of all of our products—" said Fred.

"—a 'guaranteed-to-succeed' Sickle Order—"

"—a charmed section called 'Which Wheezes' which details what's on sale, every day—"

"—and of course, you can't live without—"

"Coupons!" they said.

Ginny was caught more than once hanging on to their every word about the new things they were inventing in their little room in the back, how excited they were for October when they could finally open, and their future plans on selling Zonko's out of business. It had been oddly depressing walking onto the train without the twins, and watching them wave good-bye on platform nine and three-quarters, Harry thought.

As usual, his summer with the Weasleys flew by with homemade meals, day-long Quidditch matches played with all the Weasley children (minus Percy) when the twins, Bill, and Charlie could get off work, and numerous household chores whenever Harry and Ron could complain about them. It was very different than the previous summer spent at Grimmauld Place, Harry thought with a grimace, thinking back to the dreary afternoons spent in the old, derelict and disease-ridden house. Granted, there had been the occasional visits from the Order and eaves-dropping whenever they could to scrounge up some information as to what Voldemort was up to and what Dumbledore was doing about it…but this summer it was no secret.

The middle of July showed the wizarding world who the next Minister of Magic would be. Since Fudge was sacked after the Department of Mysteries fiasco, the world was in an uproar as to who they wanted to lead them into the eve of impending battle. The lot eventually fell to Amelia Bones, who left her position as Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and took the office of Minister of Magic.

That summer was full of Death Eater attacks and activities. At once the new Minister jumped into action and every Ministry worker began working double-time, especially those in her former department. Bones did try rather hard to make amends for not believing Dumbledore and Harry after Voldemort's return. The Ministry groveled and put the two up on pedestals; it was even shown early on in the game that the Ministry wouldn't be in the way anymore, but would instead try to work with Dumbledore as much as they could. Minister Bones even reserved a weekly article in the Daily Prophet that reviewed everything the Ministry was doing to stop Voldemort and the Death Eaters.

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement was now in the hands of a man named Richard Corleon. Harry hadn't heard much about him except that he was also now Head of the Aurors and Bill Weasley had been paired up with him on a case once or twice.

"Oh, he's a fine fellow, really, but very tough. I heard he's been turning his department inside out since ol' Diggle disappeared. I definitely wouldn't want to get on his bad side, that's for sure. They say he's the best in his line of work, and barely hitting forty. Of course, I've only been on the field with him twice—curse-breakers are often called on by the DMLE and Auror teams when they've come across something particularly nasty in the places they've searched that's riddled with Dark Arts, see—but from what I could tell, he's a favorite of both Moody and Kingsley, which is saying something as they've both got very different tastes. Not that that's a bad thing!" said Bill hastily as the visiting Kingsley Shacklebolt shot him a look from across the room.

Meanwhile, every evening was spent in the living room with the Weasleys, playing chess with Ron while Mrs. Weasley crocheted and Mr. Weasley fiddled with the crossword puzzles on the local Muggle newspaper, and Ginny read her witch magazines.

To the casual onlooker, they looked quite happy and content with what they were doing, but Harry knew better. Mrs. Weasley's lips were always pursed, Mr. Weasley's grip on the newspaper too strong, and Ron's movements on the chessboard too calculated—as if he was trying to plan out the events of the war with his chess set. It wasn't show-tunes they were listening to on the Wizarding Wireless every night from six to nine; it was news reports on the latest happenings with the Death Eaters, and how the Ministry was faring in light of the newly proclaimed war with Voldemort. Every so often they would hear about a wizarding family being saved from werewolves by a witch or wizard, or anonymous people showing up soon after a Death Eater attack on a Muggle street, and the Weasleys and Harry knew them at once to be members of the Order.

There were more than enough times when Harry, Ron, and Ginny would be caught by Mrs. Weasley gleaning information from Fred and George, who were now in the Order. She began to watch the twins like a hawk every time they came over, preventing them from having any conversations alone with their younger siblings. It wasn't until Harry and Ron started hanging out with Bill and Charlie when they visited to hear about any and all undercover organizing they'd been doing for the Order in their prospective countries that Mrs. Weasley finally gave in and a truce was made. Thus it was that every night at supper, she allowed her husband to let the kids know the general happenings at their Order meetings and what was going on…so long as it was under her supervision.

Harry and Ron were able to learn quite early on that Order meetings were no longer being held in Grimmauld Place as it was in the current custody of the Ministry, who were now investigating Sirius' death and seizing the property to find anything that could help them with stopping Voldemort.

"What do they think they're going to find, a timeline of Voldemort's next attacks?" Harry roared when he first heard.

"That's exactly what they think they're going to find," said Mr. Weasley. "Remember, Harry, they still think Sirius was You-Know-Who's right-hand man. They're probably in the mindset that Grimmauld Place was the headquarters not for the Order, but for the Death Eaters! After a year of scandalizing you and Dumbledore for stating You-Know-Who's return, of course they're going to be seizing every property they can in search of anything that will help them with capturing Death Eaters, no matter whose property it is. But I'm not complaining—I'm just grateful that Lucius Malfoy's finally been arrested and his estate searched…"

But how the Ministry had found out about Sirius' death and how they got Dumbledore to let them in, Harry didn't know. Nor were the three friends privy as to where the new headquarters for the Order were. The older Weasleys in the Order could tell them quite a bit of stuff, but where they were now meeting was not one of them.

And then came the end of July, which also brought Harry's first surprise birthday party.

According to Mrs. Weasley afterwards, Ron and Hermione had been planning it for ages. That morning, the twins had invited him and Ron to the building they had just purchased in Hogsmeade ("It's a great location, isn't it?" said Fred. "Won't be able to open till October, but that leaves us plenty of time to decorate it, liven it up a bit…and the best part is we'll be living right next to Hogwarts. We'll be able to come visit you every weekend!") and when they came back, the entire Burrow lawn was decorated in chairs and tables heavy with people and food. Streamers hung in mid-air, balloons floated around like bubbles, and it seemed as if half the members of the Order of the Phoenix were there, with at least a dozen people from school. Hermione was there as well with the happy news that her parents didn't mind her staying at the Burrow for the rest of the summer, as long as she came home for Christmas.

And of course, along with all the people came all the presents. Harry felt rather like his cousin Dudley, staring at the humongous pile of gifts just for him. He felt too embarrassed opening them in front of everyone, however, and waited until they had all gone and the party was over.

Ron was only too enthusiastic in helping him open them up and the rest of the hour was filled with his exclamations of "Oh, cool!" and "Wicked!" and even a "What I wouldn't give to be you, mate," after he opened Harry's tenth package of Chocolate Frogs. Harry reconciled this by giving Ron half his loot outright and sharing the other half.

It wasn't long, too, before Hermione said worriedly, "By the way, have either of you gotten your O.W.L. results back? I haven't, and McGonagall said they would come two weeks after the school year ended."

Neither Ron nor Harry had gotten theirs and needed to reassure Hermione that no, they hadn't flunked their exams and yes, they would be going back to Hogwarts. It didn't take long for Harry and Ron to forget about them again, but Hermione didn't. She stayed very alert for the three owls that were supposed to come, but they never did, and she finally wrote to Professor McGonagall a week before the start of term.

But as August progressed and the evenings listening to the WWN wore on, Harry had started to become more and more dampened by the smallest things. It soon became clear to everyone that it didn't take much to set him off. Harry applauded them for trying to make him feel as comfortable as they could; even though he resented the constant tiptoeing everyone started doing, especially where Sirius and anything concerning the goings-on of the Department of Mysteries was concerned.

He was only grateful that he didn't have to step foot in Sirius' old house again. The news of the Order moving headquarters to someplace else had lightened his mood considerably.

Spending the summer going from one extreme to the other had been rather tiring. First it was from a blissfully ignorant wizarding world to a wildly chaotic one now they knew of Voldemort's uprising. Then Harry'd had to go from everything magical to everything Muggle with his two-week stay at the prim and proper Dursleys', then back again to live at the Burrow.

Once he was with the Weasleys, his moping and mourning for his godfather had surprisingly disappeared, but after his birthday party it all slowly came back again. And while he had to admit his time with the Weasleys had done wonders for him—it seemed for a while almost as if Harry had left his bad dreams and terrible moods behind him in Surrey the first few weeks he was there—he knew he was only riding a temporary high. The minute Mr. and Mrs. Weasley said goodbye to them at the station, his gloomy thoughts of the year previous had caught up with him.

And now…well, now Harry was just depressed and frustrated.

Depressed because just two weeks ago, three tawny owls came soaring into the Burrow's kitchen bearing notes with the Hogwarts crest to three lucky people: two telling Ron and Hermione they were prefects again; the third making Ginny shriek in joy and knock her orange juice all over the table.

Depressed because, even though he knew that they really did deserve it, a fair portion of him still wished that he didn't have to be left out once again.

Depressed because just as soon as he stepped onto the train from platform nine and three-quarters, all three of his friends had left him for the prefects' meeting at the front of the train and he was left to scavenge for a compartment for himself.

He was mad at Hermione, even though she didn't really want to go, and kept consoling him with the knowledge that they would be back as soon as they could get out of there because she thought she knew how he felt.

He was mad at Ron for taking Hermione's lead and telling him that being a prefect wasn't all that it was made out to be, really, and Harry was much better off not having to sit through a three-hour-long lecture on how they had better improve their inter-House unity "or else it's your own prefect status that will pay".

And he was mad at Ginny for being so bubbly and happy, and talking constantly about how glad she was that she was a prefect and how that was the best thing in the world.

Of course, Harry put on a bright smile and pretended everything was okay. What else was he supposed to do? A part of him felt guilty for being mad at them when they hadn't even done anything, but all he had to do was think of the three of them sitting in the prefects' compartment and having a grand old time with each other for that feeling to disappear.

Luna and Neville coming in and keeping him company a half-hour into the ride did help, but it wasn't as easy to talk with the pair of them. Harry had hopes that they'd be better friends this time around, though, so maybe that was subject to change. He had a feeling that Ginny was going to be hanging out with them a lot more, and quite possibly Neville and Luna as well, especially after what had happened last June.

But they only stayed for two hours before leaving again, and Harry was left once more to his own thoughts.

As if on cue, the door to their compartment slid open and revealed a red-faced Ron, Hermione, and Ginny as they finally came in from their prefect meeting.

"Oh, that horrid—" were Hermione's first words upon entering, as Ron slammed the door behind them.

"What happened?" said Harry.

"Take a wild guess," snarled Ron.

"We came across Draco Malfoy torturing poor Neville," Ginny explained.

"He actually Transfigured him into a toad! I mean, it's a tricky bit of magic—I didn't know Malfoy could do it. All the Slytherins were just playing with him and tossing him back and forth. They could really have hurt him!" said Hermione.

Harry felt bile rise up in his throat, and called Malfoy a name that made Hermione blush. "How'd you know it was Neville, then, and not a pet?"

"We didn't," said Ron. "That was all Luna. She was with us when we went past their compartment, and said, 'They really shouldn't do that to Neville.'"

The door opened again and a red-faced Neville walked in, helped by Luna Lovegood.

"You all right, then?" Harry asked him.

"Yeah. Worst things have happened," said Neville, shrugging glumly.

"I should've known, when you didn't come back," Harry said. "I didn't even think that something had happened—"

"It's not your fault. You can't just tag along every time anyone goes somewhere. It's me...I really need to just defend myself. That spell hit me out of nowhere; I didn't even see it coming. With all you taught us in the D.A. last year...I should have been more prepared. There's a reason you taught us that stuff," said Neville. He looked down at the wand in his hands gloomily.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other.

"But Neville, you were so good at the Department of Mysteries! You did more damage than anyone, save Harry," said Hermione.

"Yeah, they took me out before they could get to you," said Ron.

"Listen, Neville, the Slytherins hardly ever give you a chance to defend or protect yourself—you should know that by now. I doubt any one of us could have known in time to put up a shield or stop them. You did what you could," Harry said.

Neville gave them a shy smile and sat up straighter. "So d'you think you'll be starting up the D.A. again this year, Harry…"

Hopefully this year we won't need to have secret combat clubs…but it would be nice if we could have them even if they aren't as needed. We all had fun with them. And who knows? Maybe we can bring more people in and have them brush up on their defense skills.

Every compartment surrounding theirs was soon full of the D.A. and every couple of hours someone new would pop their heads in and talk with them as they sat. The three or four train compartments besides their own comprised solely of D.A. members set a feeling deep down in Harry's chest to grumbling happily. With a shock, he recognized it as pride and triumphant satisfaction.

At least I've done this much right.

The old group of last year was still going strong, even though none of them were together officially anymore. They all knew that if this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was going to be a flop, they'd all be up and running again, but Harry had gotten hints from Dumbledore's visit with him over the summer that he'd hired someone who actually deserved the title.

But still, just the knowledge that Dumbledore's Army had done something worth remembering, and something still worth mentioning, made them all proud of themselves.

Though it was comfortable just sitting here with his friends, as the day wore on and turned darker, Harry's mood darkened with it. They had already been traveling for most of the day and the storm just kept getting worse.

He sighed as his eyes raked over Ron and Hermione from across the train's compartment. As much as he loved his two best friends, there were times when he felt he could strangle them. Now, however, was not one of those times. It wasn't that he wouldn't enjoy doing it—quite the contrary—but he was far too tired to do anything of the sort at the moment.

Hermione, as usual, could be found with her Hogwarts robes already on and her bushy curls tucked beneath a silver clip. She was deeply engrossed in Witches and Wizards of the 20th Century, something Harry knew she had read more than twice, although she kept glancing at him when she thought he wasn't looking.

Neville and Luna sat opposite her, both peering over Luna's copy of The Quibbler—it seemed that the usually forgetful boy had convinced Luna to let them do the crossword puzzle right-side up, and Luna for her part was being quite generous in sharing her knowledge of her father's zany beliefs.

Harry thought at first that it was nice of Neville, doing that with her. Harry himself certainly wasn't being very social, and with Hermione reading her book and Ron and Ginny talking of Quidditch, there wasn't much left for Neville to do but humor Luna and become occupied himself in doing so. But then Harry saw that Neville wasn't just doing it to be polite or because he was bored.

He's really having a nice time, talking to her. Well, good for Neville.

Luna looked up at Harry and caught him staring at them.

Her appearances certainly were a bit tamer than he recalled from his introduction to her last year at this time. Her long blonde hair looked rather nice in its loose plait, and at the end of it were blue and red ribbons going down her back. There were no radish earrings on her ears, nor was she sporting the bottle-cap necklace she had last year. Instead Harry saw a rather large badge ironed onto the school uniform she was now wearing, which featured an animal. It looked like a cross between a big-horned sheep and a yak; and above the animal were the words:

The Crumple-Horned Snorkack:

Have YOU seen it?

Harry grinned. She noticed him and smiled back, somewhat placidly, then went back to her puzzle.

Ginny's laughter pealed out across the air and Harry turned to see what they were going on about now. Ron had his mouth half-open, half-closed as he was trying to chew a twitchy Chocolate Frog that was likewise trying to get out of his mouth. Normally they only had one good jump in them, but judging by the way this one kept managing to get its webbed feet out from between his lips, it had several more than one.

Crookshanks, Hermione's ginger half-Kneazle cat, hopped onto Ron's lap and stared in fascination at his mouth, waiting for it to come out. Finally, Ron gave up and the Chocolate Frog shot out and ricocheted off the seat across from him. At once, Crookshanks pounced on it before it could get away.

"Bloody hell," Ron said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "That one must have gone through the Charmer more than a dozen times, I reckon. Odd, that."

"That happens sometimes in the Muggle world, too," Harry spoke up. "Dudley once got a bag of chocolates that had twice the amount it usually has. He acted like it was Christmas."

Ginny snorted.

"Fat git," said Ron lazily. "Oi, I wonder when we'll be getting there. I'm starving."

"Since when is that different from how you normally are?" said Hermione.

"Since the last time I ate," came Ron's smooth reply.

He looked over at her as she made a face and went back to her book.

"So…tell me, Hermione. Who is it exactly that you find more fascinating than the rest of us? Is it a fat warlock who learned how to grow his toenails inside-out? Or a Spanish monk who transfigured the clouds to spell out 'Up Yours'?" Ron reached over and plucked the book from her hands, turning it around so it wasn't upside-down. "Who could possibly be better company than—Harry?"

He dropped the book in disgust.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Ron!" Hermione blushed.

"Huh?" Ginny said.

Ron looked at Hermione with a disgusted look as she snatched the book from the floor and wiped it off.

"There's nothing wrong with being interested in reading an article that has my best friend's name at the top, Ron," Hermione said crossly.

"But why do you need to read that when you've got the real thing right here?" Ron asked.

Harry opened his mouth to inform them that he didn't care for being talked about as a thing when he was "right here" as Ron said, but Hermione's reply drowned out his feeble attempts.

He sighed irritably.

Ginny caught Harry's eye as the squabbling began once more. And here we go again, her expression seemed to say in the same exasperated tone Harry felt. He heartily nodded in agreement.

It didn't seem that Ron and Hermione's bickering was upsetting Luna and Neville, however. On the contrary, they were engrossed in one of the articles; upon a closer look, Harry could see that it had something to do with shrinking Swedish Shortsnouts.

"Fine then," snapped Ron, standing up. "I'll just leave you to your Harry-mongering and make myself scarce."

"Ron—" Hermione sighed, exasperated. "If you're bored and fancying a game, just say so. I don't mind putting my book down—"

"Don't bother. I have to go to the loo, anyway."

Ron slid open the compartment door and disappeared into the corridor, leaving behind a rather bewildered Hermione. She looked over at Harry, who shrugged.

"Don't look at me," he said. "I thought I was the moody one in here."

Ginny glanced up. "Don't fret about it, Hermione, he's just jealous that it's Harry who's in the book, as usual, and not him. Although…come to think of it…he's been acting like this all summer. With Harry, the two have been your average mourning augureys…I just don't know what Ron's grieving about."

She gave Harry a furtive look, which told him that she knew exactly why Harry had been moody all summer. He felt a sharp throb in his chest and forced himself to look out the window.

It was as he was trying not to think about Sirius that he saw it. His eyes snapped open.

He sat up and wiped away the part of the window his face had been pressed up against so he could see outside more clearly. But no...it wasn't there...he had imagined it yet again...

Harry leaned back, his face pale.

That can't have been Padfoot, he told himself. I can't have just seen him...he's dead...Sirius is dead...

Hermione Granger was worried.

It was really dark now, and the rain had turned from drizzle to hail, clinking loudly against the roof of the train as it traveled.

We've got to be nearly there, she thought. I don't remember the trek taking this long before—

She kept looking over at Harry. He sat beside the window, staring out forlornly. Feeling a pang of pity, she wished that she could do something...say something...anything to help him get over Sirius' death. But nothing came to mind. She had never been in his position before. The closest she had come to losing someone had been her great-aunt when she was five. But Harry...he'd lost his parents before he could remember them, had Cedric killed in front of his eyes, and now Sirius...

It isn't fair, she thought. It isn't fair for Sirius to die on him as well...

She had just noticed how dark the room had gotten when Luna lifted her eyes from the page and said, with a cock of her head—

"Something's not right."

A second later, there was a horrible screeching sound that filled the train. Everyone stopped talking and clapped their hands over their ears, faces in a grimace.

"What IS that?" Harry bellowed.

"It's the brakes!" Neville shouted back. "We're slowing down!"

Never before had Hermione truly known what the words "screeching to a halt" sounded like. Now she knew, and she was sure she had been better off not knowing.

Ginny screamed as a trunk and a cage came crashing down on them, knocking Neville to the floor. Hedwig was hooting angrily in her cage still on the shelf, and Pigwidgeon shot out of his on the floor and started rocketing around the small cabin. Even Crookshanks, who was planted in Hermione's lap, had his claws out to their fullest extent—making Hermione wince from the pain as well as the noise.

Harry picked the trunk off a flattened Neville and shoved it back up.

Hermione peered out the window. Through the dark rain she could see Hogwarts in the distance…but the train had now stopped, and it was still a fair few miles ahead…

"That's odd," she said. "We're not there yet and there's no reason for us to be stopping now. Unless—"

An old fear resurfaced and transformed itself in the pit of her gut as she remembered the last time the train had stopped before they got to Hogsmeade.

Not good. Not good, not good, not good…

But before she could voice her own thoughts—the lights went off.

Oh no.