Hermione took a deep lungful of sea air, letting that ozone fill her senses, and relaxed deeply into the sun lounger. She needed this, a change of scene, something to cheer her up. Maybe get her blues tanned, as Lyra had put it. It was nice, to sit in the sun and think of nothing - which wasn't something the cerebral Hermione Granger often did - but she could certainly appreciate its merits now.

Lyra was coming back over from the little beach bar. She'd been dying to test out her French as soon as they'd stepped off the aeroplane - or as they were used to calling it, Frankish. Lyra was delighted that the language from their world was the same as the one here, despite the different name. Her zeal made it hard for Hermione to be too worried about the cost of this impromptu, last minute holiday, which had been something of a bone of conjecture for her.

"It isn't that expensive," Lyra had reassured her when Hermione learned of the surprise, which was sprung on her as they arrived at the airport. "I got it from something called Teletext. We booked it, packed it, and took off! I don't see the problem."

"I just feel awkward," Hermione confessed, wringing her hands. "Harry's parents have been so generous in paying for my Hogwarts tuition. I just cant bear to imagine what they'd think of me for being so frivolous now. Concerts and holidays ... it makes me look like such an ungrateful spendthrift!"

"Nonsense," Lyra laughed. "They'd want you to have a good time. It makes their son happy to see you happy, and they'd have him to answer to if they were cross with you."

Hermione would have believed that until a week ago, until that rather miscalculated birthday gift! Talk about a backfire! It was all going so well, until the VIP meeting with that vacuous, blonde floozy. If only Hermione had stuck to just the concert tickets and forgot the rest ... everything else might have gone to plan.

She thought she'd looked rather pretty that night; Harry certainly seemed to think she looked pretty, if the way he kept sneaking glances at her - when he thought she wouldn't see - were any indicator. Each one had thrilled Hermione to catch, so she pretended not to pay him attention on purpose, just so he could carry on snatching secret looks at her. Then she was going to tell him he could look if he wanted to ... so long as he let her give him a kiss on his birthday. A proper kiss, like the grown-ups did.

That was the plan ... but then some big-boobied megastar had given him a hug ... and Harry had fallen under her spell, probably like a thousand other boys before him.

Hermione huffed as she remembered it, trying to not let it spoil her mood. She couldn't compete with boobs, as her own had only just started growing and it was unreasonable for her to expect Harry to notice them yet. Even Papageno had trouble remembering they were there, as evidenced by how carelessly he dug his claws into Hermione's chest when settling down for their pre-sleep cuddle every night.

So this was one thing Hermione couldn't hold against Harry.

Not that she enjoyed trying to find things that she could. It was an alien sensation. She was just cross and hurt, she knew that, but this was a whole new kind of both feelings. She was struggling to get used to them, or how they made her ache in ways she didn't know she could ache before. She'd made such an effort, but it didn't seem to work. And it created all sorts of new anxieties that Hermione hadn't experienced before.

Because she was beginning to see now that there was pretty and pretty. The sun was pretty, the flowers and trees and the rippling sea were pretty. But then there was the Maria Edge type of pretty, which was so different it might have been a whole other thing. Lyra had that sort of pretty, and as Hermione watched her coming back over with drinks, she tried to analyse it, deconstruct its parts so that she might rebuild it within herself.

Maybe then Harry would notice her again.

So she watched her Mistress as she approached. Lyra had a more contoured frame, more slender and wiry compared to the curvy Miss Weird. Lyra was taller, with longer legs. These were firm and toned, and they gave a swell to her hips, though how that might aid the subtle, elegant way they swayed Hermione couldn't fathom. She tried moving her own hips in that way as she lounged, but she looked more like she had sat on a pinecone and was trying to stop it from poking her. That wasn't anyone's idea of graceful and elegant!

Unfortunately, Lyra wasn't a much better example of attractiveness than Maria, Hermione decided. She had an effortless sort of beauty, she knew it, and she didn't care if anyone noticed or not. The famous singer, on the other hand, had cultivated her look, made use of her physical assets as part of her persona. Lyra just was ... and if you didn't notice her that was just your own fault.

But Hermione didn't feel like either of those women. She lacked the confidence of either, but she reasoned that this was normal for a girl her age. She'd just grow into herself as she got older. The problem was, she wasn't normal, and she wasn't destined for a normal boy or a normal relationship. They were special, her and Harry, and it was this whisper from her wounded heart that kept her from being truly mad with him.

The problem was, how was she supposed to be attractive for Harry, if all the normal rules were out the window?

"Penny for your thoughts," Lyra quirked as she finally arrived back at their sunbathing spot. "You look a million miles away."

"Sorry, I was just daydreaming."

"Double or quits that I can guess what about," Lyra smirked. "Or who."

"Am I really so transparent?" Hermione moaned.

"No, but you've got the look of a girl crossed in love for the first time," Lyra smiled kindly. "We've all worn that look once, if it makes you feel any better."

Hermione huffed. "It doesn't."

"No, I didn't think it would!" Lyra laughed. "But here, maybe this will have more success."

Lyra proffered a glass with a sort of dark pinkish liquid inside. Ice cubes clinked together as Hermione accepted it.

"What is it?" she asked cautiously.

"Just a mix of orange juice and cranberry juice," Lyra replied, curling her see-through sarong around her legs as she slid down onto her own sun lounger and adjusted her sunglasses. "I've got the same ... only I have vodka and peach schnapps in mine, too."

Hermione sniffed warily at the glass, just as Pap leapt up and dipped his nose in it. Then Hermione took a sip ... and was pleasantly surprised.

"Mmmm, this is nice," she hummed. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Lyra beamed. "Now, let's see what else I can do for you. Let's have some girl time, just me and you."

Hermione gulped hard. She as much did and didn't want to discuss this with Lyra, but she knew it was unavoidable. She'd accidentally called her Mum, and Lyra was acting more and more like that role every day. And it was with a confused heart that Hermione noticed that she liked it more and more, too.

So she turned to her Mistress. "What did it feel like ... when you found out what Sirius had been doing with all those other girlfriends?"

Lyra smiled at Hermione's forwardness. She hoped it was a trait she'd never lose.

"Well to start with I was angry and upset, just like you are with Harry," Lyra began, enjoying the cosiness that rose in her at the sight of Hermione's cute blush. "Not that I had any right to be angry with Sirius, really."

"No right?" Hermione scoffed. "But what he was doing -"

"Was just what Sirius does," Lyra cut in breezily. "He's a lover. He was my lover, and though he was loving other women too, I was no angel myself. Sirius and I were never a boyfriend/girlfriend type thing ... we were never that serious."

"But did you want to be?" Hermione asked girlishly, hitching her knees up for the story.

"I think we both wanted to be, looking back," Lyra considered. "But it wasn't something either of us had honestly come across before. Plus I didn't want to force Sirius to change, to settle down. There was something in his wild, vagabond nature that attracted me in the first place. I didn't want him to lose that, to be the reason he lost it. But, if I had to do it over, I'd probably be more assertive, make him see that changing might be worth it."

"So why didn't you do that?"

"Truthfully, I don't think it was Sirius I was afraid of changing ... but me," Lyra confessed. "I'm a bit wild, a bit savage, a touch untamed. I like those things about myself. But if I demanded that Sirius had to settle down to be with me, then I'd have to do that, too. A bit like being a dæmon, I suppose. And I was frightened of it. Of settling."

"But it still hurt when you found out what he'd been doing?" Hermione pressed.

"Of course, it was a blow to my pride," Lyra replied. "I started questioning if I wasn't enough for him. But I hadn't given him a reason not to do what he did. And, as I said, I was less than faithful myself. But I think we both did it to almost avoid the truth ... that we'd have happily stopped roaming if one or the other asked us to.

"But do you want to know what really hurt? Finding out that Will had married twice in his life. That really scythed to me."

A sad shadow crossed Lyra's eyes as she thought about this. Hermione was hit by the strange urge to get up and hug Lyra, and that was totally new for her.

"Will got married?" Hermione hushed. "And that hurt more than Sirius?"

Lyra nodded. "I think it's because I always held this childish view of Will, fixed from that moment we parted for good. It's silly, I know, but that's just what I did. We were your age, but totally in love. We both knew it, and no-one will ever tell me otherwise, tell me that we were too young or any of that nonsense. It was our first love, stupidly powerful as a result, but love nonetheless. I've never felt a love like it since, not even with Sirius - though he is the closest I've come.

"And I think that part of me has always kept me from properly loving anyone else. Will told me it was the same for him, that I've ruined him as a result, but he still got married twice. Which is worse in some ways, because he lied to those women he married. That isn't the Will I knew and loved. He was all sorts of good and kind and wonderful. Not the kind to deceive people, especially ones that genuinely loved him.

"So when he told me that I think I finally let him go, after all these years. Maybe - when we both return to Dust - all will be forgiven and we'll be together again. But for this life, Will Parry is dead to me. He is a figment of a past life, nothing more."

"And Sirius is your future?" Hermione asked shyly.

"Maybe," Lyra grinned back. "Depends if he still wants me."

"Oh, he does," Hermione returned confidently. "Harry told me."

Lyra flushed slightly. "Did he now? Maybe I'll need to have a chat to your Harry about that, perhaps teach him some date etiquette while I'm at it!"

"No, please don't!" Hermione begged. "He'll never forgive me!"

"Forgive you?" Lyra quipped wryly. "I thought you were the one mad at him?"

"Oh, I am," Hermione confirmed blandly. "But I'll get over that ... just as soon as I work out how to."

Lyra chuckled at that. "I wouldn't be too hard on Harry. He's a very sweet boy, and I don't think he has any idea how hurtful his words were to you. If he did, he'd probably crawl all the way out here to France, if he thought that's what it would take to make it up to you. He's very taken with you, in case you hadn't noticed."

That warmed Hermione up immensely. "Do you really think so?"

"It's the most obvious thing!" Lyra cried. "You'd have to be delusional not to see it!"

"Then why did he say all those things about that woman, and nothing about me!?" Hermione spat bitterly. "Wasn't I pretty enough for him?"

"Oh of course you were, sweetheart!" Lyra consoled. "Didn't you see how Harry looked at you when he saw you in the flat? Because that isn't how mere friends look at each other, believe me. And he knew it, too, because he was trying not to let you see that he was staring at you!"

"I know!" Hermione giggled, leaning in conspiratorially. "He kept doing it all night at the concert, too. It was really quite sweet ... until the disaster that happened later."

"And you missed out on your first kiss?"

Hermione blushed crimson. "Something like that."

"And you still want that ... with Harry?"

Hermione was sure she couldn't blush any more than she was right now, but silence was not an option. She wanted very badly to confess this to Lyra, and as she thought that, she very nearly replaced Lyra with the word Mum again, only this time it was in her mind. This was becoming a dangerous trend.

"Is ... is it weird that I want it more than before?" Hermione asked in an unsure voice. "It sounds silly, but now that he's talked about another girl, I know he's probably thought about what it would be like to kiss her. And I don't want him to think that, I want him to think about kissing me. Or, actually, wanting to kiss me more than any other girl. Is there something wrong with me for thinking that?"

Lyra laughed softly. "Nothing at all, honey. You really like Harry and you want him all to yourself. The problem is you're a bit more developed than he is, and he needs to catch up. What you're feeling is perfectly natural, just like this little crush of his."

"It is?"

"Of course, it's all part of growing up," Lyra replied. "You'll have crushes yourself, I'm sure. And just like yours will pass, his will too. Just try not to torture him too much when this situation happens the other way around. Bitterness and vengeance aren't the staples of a healthy relationship!"

Hermione giggled. "But I can tease him with it?"

"I'd expect you too! It's the duty of lovers to playfully tease each other every now and then. Keeps them reminded of what they have if they ever lose sight of it."

"Then what should I do, do you think?" Hermione asked. "Harry has sent me three owls since his birthday and I haven't replied to a single one of them. I've just been too cross with him."

"Three owls!" Lyra exclaimed humorously. "The poor boy must be worried out of his mind! I can only imagine what you're putting him through, Hermione!"

"Oh dear, have I been really bad?" Hermione yelped anxiously.

"No more than he was to you," Lyra replied. "Besides, it doesn't hurt to be made to dangle a bit in cases like these. He'll be fine."

"Okay," said Hermione, uncertainly. "So, what would you do, if you were me?"

"I'd assume your role in his life ... as his guide," Lyra told her simply. "Harry needs to see what he's done, understand why it was bad and be given chance to make amends. But this is a lesson you have to deliver in subtle ways. Give him a taste of how you feel, but don't push it too far. He's gotten used to your attention, but maybe you need to make him earn it all over again."

"How?"

"By not being prissy about his crush, for a start," Lyra advised. "It's just a crush, nothing more. That singer is a grown woman, she's just a fantasy right now, Harry's first one. Let him have it ... but find one of your own. If I'm right about Harry, he will hate to see his behaviour reflected in you. And he's a smart and cognizant sort of boy ... he'll see what he's been doing and drop his crush in a heartbeat, if he thinks he risks losing you over it."

"Do you really think so?" Hermione flushed, hopefully.

"I really do, just don't target a real potential rival," Lyra warned. "Don't start making moves on, say, the Weasley boy you mentioned."

"Eww, Lyra!" Hermione shrieked in disgust. "That's a horrible thought! Urgh! Id never do that! It wouldn't just be cruel to Harry, but a violation against myself and all things girl! Kissing Ron Weasley ... it's enough to make me vomit at the mere thought!"

Lyra laughed deeply. "We'll keep that punishment for when Harry really upsets you then!"

"No, we really wont," Hermione disagreed. "I'd rather kill Harry than do that to him ... or me!"

"Okay then. So ... anyone else that fits the bill? Who would really get under Harry's skin for you to crush on? Any teachers at school, maybe?"

Hermione's face lit up as the perfect idea came to her. She beamed at Lyra.

"Oh, yes, I think I have just the man!" she sang happily. "Ooh, Pap! Go and grab me some paper and a pen! I've got that stupid dream diary in my bag, that will do. Lyra, tell me some of the things I need to do. Harry really wont like me doing this, but it's for his own good, isn't it?"

"For the good of you both," Lyra laughed. "Right, we need a name for this caper. Any suggestions?"

Hermione scrunched her eyebrows as she thought. "How about the 'Campaign for the Listing and Implementation of Teasing Objectives and the Resulting Intimacy with my Soulmate'?"

"It's catchy, but I'm not sure I like the acronym for that," Lyra quirked dryly.

"Wah ... oh," Hermione giggled as she worked it out. "Perhaps not then. Ah! I've got it!"

"Hit me."

"Project Lock (Harry's) Heart," Hermione beamed. "That sounds better. Yes, that's what we'll go for. I just hope Harry sees the funny side ... once his lesson is over!"

September the First rolled around after a very long month for Harry. The deeply concerning silent treatment he seemed to be getting from Hermione left him listless and lonely. He spent much of August moping around the flat, refusing the numerous entreaties from James and Lily to enjoy the Summer sunshine while he still had chance. Instead, he kept to his room with Hedwig for company, listening to music and trying to cheer himself by looking at the picture he'd had taken with Maria Edge, which had indeed made the cover of Esoter-Rock! Magazine.

But even this wasn't anything like as soothing as Harry needed it to be. He loved The Weird Sisters, could drown in their music. But it was so much better when he had Hermione there to drown alongside him. Without her, it had lost some it's spirit.

He just couldn't work out what he'd done to upset her so much.

For he knew that's what it must be. Hermione was nothing if not polite ... she wouldn't simply ignore his letters without good reason. After the first one earned no response, Harry became fitfully concerned. It just wasn't like Hermione to not reply the same day. Poor Hedwig could testify to that.

So Harry reasoned that there were two possibilities - Hermione was unable to respond, or she was unwilling to respond. He was able to dispel the first possibility right away, when Minerva McGonagall came by one evening and said she'd just been to deliver Hermione's exam results to her personally. They'd been of such a high standard that Minerva thought they deserved a home visit, along with a little trophy as a reward.

Harry beamed with pride when Minerva told him about that ... then was stunned into silence when she informed Harry that he had done better than his best friend.

That was impossible, he argued. Hermione was the best in the year by a country mile. But the results didn't lie. Harry had outscored Hermione enough in some of their classes to have beaten her by three clear marks in total. It took a whole day to get his head around that, and Harry immediately sent Hermione another letter once he had, to tell her that he was going to demand a recount of the marks, as there most certainly had been a mistake.

But when that letter didn't yield a reply, Harry knew he was facing Option Number Two ... Hermione was unwilling to write back to him. In many ways, Harry thought, this was worse than Option Number One.

Was she mad at him for coming top of the year, at her expense, Harry wondered. That was his first thought, but he dismissed it at once. Hermione was not any sort of petty. If anything, she was his own personal cheering section, and he'd have thought she'd be happy that he'd run her so close, for he was still convinced that he couldn't possibly have beaten her academically.

So if not that, then what?

His mother and father seemed to know, but steadfastly refused to tell him, which led to Harry dishing out his own version of the silent treatment for a few days. It took Hedwig refusing to sit with him in his funk for Harry to realise he was being so childish, so he went crawling back to his mother with eyes full of apologies, until she made them both big mugs of hot chocolate and told Harry stories about her and James from their time at Hogwarts.

That made him feel better. But in terms of getting Hermione to speak to him, Harry realised, he would have to work that one out on his own.

And his first resolution was to get the bottom of whatever he'd done as soon as possible. He gave up on letters after the third one came back empty. His best hope now was to wait until the return to Hogwarts, where he might be able to tackle Hermione in person. He was determined to talk to her, tie her down if necessary, until she was his friend again.

On September the First Harry was up and ready early, and chomping at the bit to get to Kings Cross. As such, they were there over an hour before the train was due. This had a knock on effect that Harry could have done without. The Weasleys arrived early too, and Molly noticed that Sirius wasn't with the Potters and so made a beeline for them in search of an explanation. Harry, who couldn't stand the Weasley parents, made his excuses, kissed his parents goodbye and headed onto the platform with Hedwig on his arm, just to get away from them.

So Harry sat there, solitary and morose and with his eyes fixed on the barrier, waiting for that shock of bushy hair to come bounding through. Families came and moved on, the train arrived in a billow of smoke and very soon the entire platform was a cacophony of bustling students, squawking and meowing animals, and floating stories about how the Summer holidays had been for everyone.

And that was how Hermione found Harry, sat all alone with Hedwig on his slumped shoulders, looking very sorry for himself.

The first sight of Harry thawed the ice on Hermione's bruised heart and she gave in to a big smile. Lyra looked down at her with a grin that said, quite plainly, 'go on'. So she did, creeping up behind Harry until she was close enough to cover his eyes with her hands.

Then she struck.

"Boo!" she breathed into his ear, giggling as Harry jumped in fright.

"Hermione!" Harry yelped, spinning around whilst trying to ignore the tingly feeling that Hermione's hot breath had sent racing down his spine. "You scared me"

"That was sort of the point!" Hermione grinned, turning her trunk onto its side and sliding it next to Harry's, before sitting down by him.

"Why haven't you answered my letters?" Harry blurted out at once, obliterating any ideas of caution he might have been entertaining. "Have I done something to upset you? I really hope I haven't."

"Upset me? Oh no, Harry, I'm fine," Hermione assured him with a little white lie.

"Then why have you been ignoring me?"

"I haven't been," she replied brightly. "I've just been having some problems ... you know ... big girl problems."

Harry frowned a while, then his eyes went wide and round as comprehension dawned. "Oh ... is that what this is?"

Hermione couldn't help but beam. She'd missed Harry's cute naivety. How was she ever supposed to stay mad at him when he could melt her so easily?

But she had to at least try. "Yes, Harry, that's what this is. I've just needed some girl time with Lyra. She took us away to the South of France to celebrate."

"Girls celebrate that kind of thing?" Harry asked in wonder. "Wow."

"Well it's the time you stop being a girl and start becoming a young woman," Hermione remarked airily. "That's worth marking, don't you think?"

"I suppose," Harry agreed, shifting awkwardly on his trunk. He was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to pursue this line of conversation with a girl, though, so he changed it. "Was France nice?"

"Yes, it was great. The resort was pretty, the weather was nice and sunny, and we went swimming in the sea, and rambling to some local magical sites, and all sorts. I re-wrote half of my History of Magic homework just to include some of the local legends I found out about. It was funny taking a quill and parchment to the beach, you know, but nicer than working in our stuffy apartment in Oxford. I had a really good time, actually."

"That's good. I'm glad. And it was just you and Lyra?"

"Yes."

"For three whole weeks?"

"Yes."

"With a whole bunch of French people?"

"Well, of course, as it was France."

"And did you make any friends out there? Meet anyone our age?"

Hermione grinned shrewdly to herself, finally guessing where Harry was going with this. Was it too early to start teasing him? She decided it was.

"No. Lyra and I kept to ourselves."

"Good," Harry breathed in a relief so pointed it surprised them both. "So ... are we sharing a compartment today?"

"I would hope so," Hermione replied. "Why wouldn't we be?"

"I don't know," Harry returned, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I wasn't sure if you were talking to me ... so ..."

Harry's voice tailed off. He turned his head and looked away guiltily.

"You really have been worrying about this, haven't you?" Hermione asked lightly anxious, leaning forward and curling her head around to look in Harry's eyes. She wasn't as comfortable as Lyra when it came to playing these little games. Harry looked like he was really quite hurt by her radio silence. "Hey ... hey, it's alright. I just needed some head space, that's all. I'm sorry if you think I've been ignoring you, but I really haven't. I promise."

"Really?" Harry asked, hopefully.

"Really," Hermione smiled. It was as much an inward smile - thrilled that Harry had obviously been missing her - as it was an outward one. It shattered her resolve for the plan for the day. She'd have to rebuild it tomorrow. "Come on, the train is boarding. Don't want it to leave without us!"

Harry really didn't want that. Imagine the shame! So he quickly helped Hermione with their luggage, they found a free carriage towards the end of the train and settled down in an empty compartment to natter incessantly about anything they could think of. After a month apart, they had a lot of lost talking to make up for.

Now Harry and Hermione may not have missed the train back to school ... but someone else had.

It was about lunchtime that this incredible feat of stupidity became the talk of the Express. Harry and Hermione knew that something was coming, as door after door of the adjoining compartments slammed shut in sequence. As the slamming drew closer, this din was joined by animated voices. Something was going on, and it was only a matter of time before Harry and Hermione found out what it was.

Then their compartment door was abruptly wrenched open and a blonde haired girl stuck her head through the gap.

"Is my brother in this compartment?" the girl demanded.

"I'm sorry?" Harry retorted. "Who?"

"My brother!" the girl snapped angrily. Then she squeaked as she recognised Harry and asked, far more quietly, "Is my brother in here?"

"It might help if we knew who your brother was," Hermione replied coolly, scowling at the swooning sweetness the girl's voice had taken on.

"Oh, don't be stupid, you know my brother!" the girl shrieked. "Ron ... Ron Weasley."

Harry did a double-take. If she hadn't told them who she was, Harry would never have recognised Ginny Weasley ... a blonde-headed Ginny Weasley. Now what was that all about?

"No, Ron isn't in here. We haven't seen him," Hermione told Ginny. "Is he not on the train?"

"I don't know," she said tearfully. "I don't think he can be. I've searched everywhere. My other brothers think it's really hilarious, but I don't. Not at all."

"I'm sure he'll turn up," Harry offered consolingly.

"If you do see him, will you tell him I'm looking for him?" Ginny asked pitifully.

"Of course."

"Thanks. See you, Harry."

And then she went away. Hermione turned to Harry with an ugly scowl.

"She fancies you. Did you know?"

Harry blushed a red as deep as the setting sun. "I - I don't think so. Why do you think so?"

"Why?" Hermione replied simply. "Well, you're a hero - which only got worse after last year - and you're a bit dramatic because of your background. Oh, and you're cute, too. That doesn't hurt. All in all, you're pretty fanciable."

"I - I am?" Harry stuttered. This train compartment was way too stuffy. He needed to open a window or something.

Hermione held back a grin. She was finding it deliciously easy to make Harry squirm. And it was a fun game, too. "I'd say so. Ginny Weasley certainly thinks you are. Why else would she try and look like a reject from The Weird Sisters if she didn't? She obviously thinks you prefer blondes."

"I don't prefer anything!" Harry protested. He wasn't even sure what the difference was, but there was obviously something Hermione knew about this that he didn't.

"Don't worry, Harry, I'll protect you," Hermione assured him stoutly.

"You will? How?"

"I could wee on you? Mark you with my scent! That might put other girls off!"

"Eww! No thanks!" Harry replied, turning a bit green as Hermione burst out laughing. "Haven't you got any other ideas? Something a bit more hygienic ... or sane?"

"I'll think of something!" Hermione laughed, wiping her eyes. Then she blinked in shock at something outside the window.

"What? What is it?" Harry asked, sitting up as Hermione continued to stare in wide-eyed disbelief through the glass.

"Oh, nothing, it's just that ... I've found Ron Weasley. He's out there ... in a flying car!"