The Weasleys and Hermione were standing in a corner, and Professor McGonagall and Lucy were by the door, ready to go and fetch anything that either Dumbledore (in McGonagall's case), or Reader (in Lucy's) might require.
"How long have I been out?" Harry asked.
"Only about five minutes," Dumbledore said reassuringly. "You didn't miss anything juicy downstairs."
Harry smiled weakly at that, and made an attempt to sit up in bed; the effort made grimace. Dr. Reader, noticing this, dextrously slid his arm under Harry's shoulders and gently, easily lifted him up into position. Professor Dumbledore proffered a cup of hot chocolate, from which Harry gratefully and greedily drank as Dumbledore held it to his lips. Strength flowed back into Harry, crowding out the pain, and he sat up unassisted.
"Sorry about ruining the party, everyone," Harry said after he finished the hot chocolate. "It's never been this strong before." His face took on a thoughtful look. "But somehow -- I don't think this was directed at me. I think it was just spillover."
Both Reader's and Dumbledore's left eyebrows rose up in exactly the same fashion. "Tell us more, Harry," Dr. Reader asked in that quietly compelling voice of his.
Harry thought hard. "It seemed as if he was angry -- very angry -- but at his followers, not me. Some of them had acted without his consent, or even his knowledge, and done something he felt to be stupid. I thought he might have been reacting to the McNair incident, but I got the strongest sense that he was angry about more things than that."
"We know from past experience that Voldemort's mere anger, whether or not it's directed strictly at you, can trigger the pain in your scar," Dumbledore acknowledged. "But it's a new development for you to be able to sense his thoughts when he is enraged. Let us hope that this is not a two-way street."
"Then I'll just have to avoid getting angry," Harry joked lightly, eliciting a smile from Dumbledore. "Seriously, though, Professor -- I don't think it operates that way. For one thing, I don't think I could ever get quite as angry, even once, as Voldemort seems to get on a regular basis. I'm getting the strongest impression that he felt that having a body again would solve all his problems, and he's extremely angry that it hasn't."
There was a period of silence as everyone pondered that bit of information.
Dr. Reader spoke next. "One of Voldemort's problems, the caliber of his followers, is, I suspect, totally of his own creation," he said. "Voldemort sounds all too like the rather tiresome standard-issue breed of megalomaniac, in that neither his ego nor his paranoia will allow him to suffer the presence of anyone intelligent or resourceful enough to constitute a possible threat to him. The unfortunate result, for him, is that he finds himself surrounded by incompetents whose few talents lie in the fields of flattery and deception."
Dumbledore gave Dr. Reader a smile of approval. "The Malfoys, Crabbes and Goyles would all seem to give weight to your diagnosis, Doctor. I wonder, though: what did his followers do tonight that would have caused Voldemort to be so angry at them?"
"I think I know, Headmaster."
Arthur Weasley, wearing plus fours, had entered the room.
Mr. Weasley was holding a small portable radio that Dr. Reader had given him to use in his Muggle Studies program. His face was grim as he turned up the volume for everyone to hear: "...again, as was reported earlier in this programme, Bruce Blake, the son of United States Senator Donald Blake, was one of three persons found dead inside a Volkswagen van approximately one hour ago. Foul play is suspected..."
Everyone in the room fell silent.
"...the deceased were all members of Bruce Blake's musical group, The Blake-Smiths, an old-time American traditional music group that was making a name for itself in the United States, " the news reader said. "Senator Blake, accompanied by his wife Pamela, has already left Washington and is flying to London at this hour. Members of the US Federal Bureau of Investigation are also currently en route to the UK to assist the British authorities with their investigation of the circumstances surrounding the deaths of Mr. Blake and his companions. And that's the news this hour..."
Mr. Weasley switched off the radio.
"How do you know that this was the work of Death Eaters, Arthur?", Dumbledore asked quietly.
"Because of a little item that, thanks to some quick work with Memory Charms on the part of some local wizards, won't be making the Muggle news."
Professor McGonagall was aghast. "The Dark Mark appeared in the sky?", she whispered.
Mr. Weasley's voice was nearly as soft as Professor McGonagall's. "Yes."
Lucy spoke up for the first time. "What a bunch of idiots," she said. Noting the surprised stares she recieved, she hurriedly amended: "No, no -- not you all. I'm talking about Tom Riddle, Jr.'s people."
"No wonder Voldemort's angry," Lucy said, walking towards Harry's bed. "He still can't be strong enough to go toe-to-toe in open battle with anyone, and his followers have the dumb luck, or the awesome stupidity, not only to kill some people, but to pick as their victim someone whose father has the pull to bring the entire Muggle law enforcement machinery of two very powerful countries right down onto Voldemort's neck. Even blind pigs find acorns every once in a while, and when you're about to have the entire English, Scottish and Welsh countryside turned upside down by hundreds of FBI and MI5 and MI6 members, not to mention Scotland Yard, something's going to shake loose."
"I agree with Lucy," Dr. Reader said, looking around at those assembled in the room. "I also hope that this doesn't have negative consequences for the wizarding world as a whole. I expect that the Muggle officers of the law, in view of the nature of these deaths, will be taking a rather dim view of anything out of the ordinary that they may run across. I don't know if it will quite be 'shoot first and ask questions later', but I would not rule that out as a likelihood."
"I've already thought about that and taken appropriate measures," Mr. Weasley replied, grimly but firmly. The role of Minister may have been suddenly thrust upon him by Fudge's death, but he had definitely shown himself equal to the task. He held up a pager; one of the first things he did as Minister was to secretly issue Muggle-style pagers and cell phones to various Ministry agents. "Trained Ministry personnel are already at the scene, and have been for some time, scouring away anything we think it best that the Muggle authorities not find. That's in addition to casting the Memory Charms. I've informed them that they are to notify me of any developments in the situation."