The Tryouts; Part Two

Bill, Fred and George stepped out from the fireplace. Bill eyed the kitchen, making sure that they were alone. Bill turned to the twins and said in an urgent whisper, "Don't say anything to anyone about seeing Harry. Don't tell them that you made the team unless they ask. Okay? We don't need anyone brooding on your Quidditch career and school at the moment."

A sudden movement caught Bill's attention. A figure clad in deep blue robes had stepped into the kitchen. His wand was pointing menacingly at the three Weasleys. His mouth was open in mid hex.

*~*~*

Ron was fighting against waking up. He wanted to fall back into his dreams. As he floated between being awake and staying lost in dreams, he could feel something wasn't right. His eyes ached, and his body felt heavy. Nestled in the back of his mind was a nagging feeling that something was wrong and he had to wake up. He fought with the feeling a few more seconds before his eyes fluttered open and he was blinking the sleep out of his eyes. Ron looked around, not knowing where he was. His orange wallpaper, covered in Chudley Cannon posters, were gone and replaced with white antiseptic walls. There was nothing in the room, but a table, a bed, and a few chairs next to it. Ron studied his bed: crisp white linen sheets and a white blanket covered him. Looking at the bed his memories came flooding back to him.

Ginny's scared screams and then Hermione's screams of pain. He remembered the figure standing over her as she folded in on herself. He could still see the eyes of the intruder when he looked at Ron. The way the eyes showed how little they cared about the screaming. They showed how unaffected the person behind the eyes was.

He had wanted to lunge at him, to bring him as much pain as Hermione felt, but before he could do anything, running feet were heard, and moments before the door opened again, he was gone. The curse had lifted. Ron had snapped out of his memories.

He jumped out of the bed. He ran to the door, tripping over his feet as he went. "Ron!" For one wonderful minute he thought it was Hermione calling out to him. He spun around and saw Ginny sitting in one of the chairs that he hadn't noticed when he first woke up.

"She not awake yet, Ron. They won't let anyone see her. Mum is having a fit, and Dad and Professor Dumbledore are having a hard time keeping her under control. That Dr. Johnson or what ever his name is, won't let even Dumbledore see Hermione."

Ginny looked as tired as he felt. Ron looked at her. He could see tears slip down her checks. Ron crossed the room with five quick strides. "Come here Gin," he said softly as he pulled her out of the chair, and hugged her to him. She cried into his shoulder, burying her face in his chest. Her shoulders shook under his arms as he stroked her hair and back. "Shh, Ginny. It's going to be okay."

"Oh Ron, but what if it's not! That doctor doesn't even know what is wrong with her. He's a complete imbecile. Dumbledore is trying to get a different doctor to come look at her. He is supposed to be the best doctor ever. He has his own family clinic", Ginny cried as she dissolved into tears again.

Ron held his little sister until her tears ceased. He looked down at her. Ginny's eyes were closed, and her lips were parted slightly. She had become so fatigued from crying that she had fallen asleep. Ron picked her up and placed her on the bed. He realized how stressful last night's events had been for her, too. He pulled the covers up to her pale face, which was framed by soft red hair. He looked over his shoulder when he was leaving the room. Ginny had shifted so he couldn't see her face, but he could tell she was still asleep. He closed the door softly when he left.

*~*~*

Harry set in one of the plush chairs around the table, drinking a butterbeer from a silver goblet. "So, how long have you been working here?" He asked his carpet that floated in a chair across the table. It wiggled an answer back to him, but it meant nothing to Harry.

He was so exhausted that he didn't care that he was trying to keep a conversation with a carpet; a carpet that had grown so attached to him, it was like a well-trained dog. He felt as worn out as he was at his birthday party.

Harry was drinking his butterbeer with his eyes half closed, slouched in his chair. Slivers of sun played on his face as they danced across the table, making his goblet glimmer with silver rainbows. Harry brought the goblet up to his lips, inhaling the sweet fragrances, when the whole room gave an almighty launch sending butterbeer down the front of his robes, and Harry (along with the chair he was sitting) sprawling onto the ground in a heap. For the second time that day Harry plunged twenty feet to the ground and landed with a thump on the floor.

A shooting pain raced up his right wrist when he tried to get off the floor. He stood up without putting any weight on his hurt arm. From where he stood he could see out one of the windows. The roof was on fire, sending smoke up into the early evening sky. He could see people running around outside, trying to get away from the burning building or trying to get close enough to put out the fire. Harry saw dazed people running away screaming. They were looking back over their shoulders, like they were being pursued. Small children were clinging onto their Mothers for dear life.

Masses of cloaked figures were following the fleeing crowd. Harry realized with dread who the people in black were, as green light came from their wands, and the people from the Inn dropped to the ground.

"Death Eaters!" Harry breathed, and then without warning his scar exploded with pain, sending him back to the floor. The room was illuminated with a harsh green glow. His breath stuck in his throat, he could feel life trying to leave him as he lay on the floor. Harry held his head in his hands trying to keep life in himself. The green glow left the room. His breath came flooding back into his lungs. He gulped it down before he tried to make it back to his feet. He bit down on his lip to keep from yelling as a new wave of pain threatened to split his scar open.

Harry fumbled, trying to find his way while hardly being able to see what was around him. He came to the window, and below he could make out a tall bloodless man with red eyes standing on the ground below his window. "Voldemort," Harry gasped with lack of breath.

His red eyes were blazing, and he was laughing. Harry could hear it from were he was, over the roar of noise around him. The high mirthless laugh sent icy chills up his spine. The hair on the back of his neck prickled as Lord Voldemort looked up at the window he was standing before. He looked right at Harry.

Smoke was filling the room, making it hard to see and his breathing was short and hollow. Harry noticed his carpet hovering at his left side, it moved a little and Harry fell onto it closing his eyes.

He could hardly think right with his scar burning, the smoke clogging his mind, and fear so strong it almost paralyzed him. With shaking hands he puled the Invisibility cloak over himself. He knew somewhere in the very back of his mind that he didn't want to be seen.

The carpet shot out of the room, only pausing for Harry to open the door. Harry cast one look back into his room. Flames were licking the edges of the paper that he had read early that day. He was feeling dizzy and lost, as the smoke grew thicker with each breath he drew. Through the dense smoke Harry could see flames to his left, and endless smoke to his right.

Harry and the carpet speed to the right. Green light lit up the smoke, giving it an eerie glow. People were screaming and their voices echoed in his ears, mingling with his own yells. The pain in his scar was worst than ever before. Moaning in pain, he gripped his head. Harry's hands were covered in what he thought was sweat. He pulled his hands away from his head, and saw...

"Blood!" he gasped. He touched his scar again to make sure that he wasn't seeing things. When he pulled his finger away, there was no blood. He tried to convince himself that there had never been blood, but the thought that his hands were soaked in blood keep floating to the top of his mind.

The green flashes became brighter and more frequent. That meant only one thing, Voldemort and his supporters were getting closer. Harry urged the carpet to fly faster. If he didn't get air soon, he wouldn't be able to get out. Harry could feel the carpet hugging the turns as it flew. It seemed to know where it was going, which was a good thing because Harry was lost. He could see light through the smoke, and it was getting brighter. The light wasn't from the raging fire that made the building feel like an inferno, or the green glow from wands, but it was the sky.

"Agh!" Harry yelled out as a flame licked him, scorching the sleeve of his robes, and burning his skin. He hastily put out the flame with his other hand, burning it in the process. Harry swore under his breath.

The carpet shuddered to a stop; it then backed up, and shot forward. Harry was just cling on to conciseness when the carpet smashed through a window. Glass shards rained down on Harry, slicing his skin. He took a deep breath when he could see the sky, but he choked as he inhaled the thick gray smoke that had spilled out of the building.

The carpet flew higher, like a cork out of a wine bottle. The Invisibility cloak had slipped off, and was now trailing behind Harry. He was to busy breathing in the clean air to put the cloak back on. Harry looked down below him, and the sight almost made him sick. People were laying everywhere, not one of them was moving, and Voldemort stood in the mild of the crumpled forms surrounded by the Death Eaters.

Voldemort had seen him flying high over the burning Inn, weaving his way between the smoke and fire. "Get Him! Don't let him get away!"

A thousand stupefy curses followed Voldemort's orders. The curses shot straight at Harry. The carpet dodged the red curses one after another. Harry could hardly hold on as the carpet plunged and swerved. The Death Eaters were still firing at Harry, but he was getting away. He was almost out of the curse's reach, when one of the Death Eaters bellowed the curse. It flew faster than any curse Harry had ever seen. It shot past the other Stupefy curses and hit the carpet.

The Carpet stiffened and stopped moving. It hovered before falling out from under Harry, and both Harry and the carpet plunged to the ground. The sky was the only thing Harry could see as he fell.

Twisting around in the air Harry could see the ground rushing up to him. He was falling on the other side of the Inn, away from Voldemort. The ground on this side of the Inn was over grown with shrubs that were covered in long pointed thorns, and flowers that had creepers that would crush you if you stayed still long enough.

The thorns grabbed at Harry's already very battered robes, ripping the fabric, and scratching his skin that had all ready been burned, sliced, and hit by trees on his way down to earth. He landed with a muted thud, and his Invisibility cloak landed half-hazardly on him. Harry finally slipped into unconsciousness, thinking he was safe hidden among the under brush.