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Arnica

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" And so we were reading the book and then the next thing I really remember is being here and convinced that I was just drunk or dreaming." I say, twiddling with my blue duffle strap. Sirius nods slowly, twirling his wand absently between his fingers.

" The four of you opened a small tear in space." He says musingly. " God, you should talk to Remus, he knows more about this than I do, but he's in Wales right now and we're in the arse end of England." I frown.

" Well, then we need to start walking or something, because I need to get to Hogwarts." He raises an eyebrow, looking at me oddly.

" And why would I take you there?" I cross my arms over my chest, standing up to face him.

" Because it's the one place in your damn world that we all know and if the others haven't already thought of going, then I can get help when I get there."

" I'm sorry, but I'm not taking you to Hogwarts. I'll take you to the nearest town and you can find someone to help you there."

" Like hell you will!" He looks at me in surprise. " If you take me to a wizarding town you'd be locked up in a second, so You're just planning on dropping me by the nearest farmhouse where I'll have to deal with people who would lock me up in an asylum rather quickly! Look, no one appreciates the concept of saving one's own ass more than me, but I swear that I will make you one very unhappy man if you don't help me." He smirks at me.

" And what will you do? Cry?"

" No, I'll hunt you down when you don't expect it. I'll knock your ass out, tie you up and leave you in the center on the nearest populated area with a wanted poster taped to your fucking head!" His smirk has disappeared, replaced by a glare.

" I won't be blackmailed." He hisses.

" And I won't be abandoned in someone else's fucking universe!" I shout. " So you can either help me or hope I don't run across someone who can contact the ministry and tell them to be on the lookout for a rather large grim like dog in any area Sirius Black may be reported in."

" I could kill you."

" You wouldn't be able to live with yourself, knowing I only wanted to go home." It's my turn to smirk. His face tightens and I sigh. " Look, you think this is what I want? I don't exactly get off threatening to send innocent men into the pits of hell to rot! I just want to get my friends and go home. We have mothers, fathers and young siblings who think that four of us are going to be coming home in two days and you'd say fuck them all because you're too scared to turn into a big black dog and show me how to go home!" He stares at me silently and I throw up my hands. " You know what? Screw this, screw you and oh wait, screw you! I'm done with this." I sit down and dig my sandals out of my bag, flinging my bots into it. " I'll do it myself. I'll wander around fucking England for the next damn year if I have to and maybe one of my friends was lucky enough to find someone with enough stones to give a little help to some lost people."

" You can't just go traipsing off into these woods." Sirius scoffs. There's a full moon in three days and a pack of werewolves live ten miles from here. You won't make it to next week."

" Well, I hardly see how this is your concern." I snap. " You won't help me, but you can tell me all sorts of stupid warnings that I just can't seem to care about? You know what? When I heard about you, I was so impressed. I thought that you were so incredibly brave to have done what you did. I read about what happened in 93 and I hoped that if I ever had the opportunity, I'd be able to risk it all like you did." He looks confused, so I dig though my bag and pull out Prisoner of Azakaban, throwing it at his feet. He picks it up, palling. " Now, I'm glad I know you're really a coward. I hate illusions." I walk away.

You know, it got dark very quickly. I huddle in the roots of a tree with a very thick limb balanced across my knee. About two my flashlight died and so now I'm just staring out into space and hoping nothing jumps out at me. I stared for a very long time before I fell asleep.

When I wake up, there's a fire in front of me and Sirius is there, his hands shaking as he reads through the last pages of POA. I dig through my bag and pull out a bandana, leaning over and wiping away a few tears that crept down his face.

" I can't apperate with you, and we're a really long walk to London.". He closes the book and frowns. " A really long walk. I don't even know if you can walk to Hogwarts. It's unplotable."

" The train from 9 3/4 goes right up to Hogsmead right?" I ask, " We could walk from there right?"

" We couldn't get on the train. It's only for students and won't run until the first of September, that almost two months from now."

" But we could follow the tracks up to Hogsmead!" I'm getting excited now and I jump up, pacing. " If we get to the wizarding part of the train station, we can go to the track for the red train and just follow it!"

" We'll be walking for weeks." Sirius warns. I shrug.

" A few weeks of walking is worth going home. I drop to the ground and slip into my black sneakers. " Come on." He puts out the fire with a small stream of water and stands up next to me as I sling my bag over my shoulder, everything I have left of my world is in there. We are silent as we begin our trek.

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Zoë

When I come to, the first thing I do is scream. I scream bloody, violent, serial murder. "Professor Lupin" tries to calm me down, but I know better than to shut up now. I don't stop until a doctor comes into my vision. He looks down at me as though I'm going to start frothing at the mouth.

But I'm not the crazy one. "Doctor," I begin. "This man is crazy. He thinks he's Remus Lupin. He kidnapped me, took me away from the cabin, and my friends, and I want to go home, and..." I pause as the doctor looks more and more confused.

"Miss-" he begins

"Ms." I correct flatly.

He glances down at me, puzzled. "All right, Ms. Shields, I don't know how much of a head injury you sustained, but allow me to clear up the record. Professor Lupin here did not kidnap you. He rescued you. Without his assistance, you would still be lying on the ground outside. I believe some gratitude would be in order."

I shake my head. "You don't understand. Remus Lupin does not exist. He is a fictional character. Haven't you ever read the Harry Potter books?"

The man claiming to be Remus Lupin swallows hard, looking stunned, as though I've taken his identity from him. But I can't have done that, because there is no Remus Lupin. The doctor looks at me as though I have multiple heads. "There are no fictional books about The Boy Who Lived. His life is interesting enough without adding more troubles. As for Professor Lupin, he is as real as anything you see here. He's as real as this." The doctor leans forward and pinches me, hard.

"Ow!" I yell. "What the hell was that for?"

"To remind you that this is not a dream, nor is it fiction. You are as healed as we can make you, and it's time for you to leave. Professor Lupin has generously agreed to take you in until we can figure out how to get you home. Have a nice day."

With that, my new companion and I are transported out of the hospital and into the darkened street (It's nighttime already? I must have been out for longer than I thought.). Nervously, I look up at the so-called professor. Here, in the dark he looks a lot more menacing.

Oh, God, I think. I'm out here in a dark, empty street with a possibly vindictive psychopath who I just said does not exist.

He turns towards me. I close my eyes. I'm fucked.
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Aradia

I sat in the small chair in Ollivander's wand shop, waiting for Draco to return with the owner of the shop. The shop was full of long narrow boxes, floor to ceiling. The very air in the room seemed to quiet customers, as though a very stern librarian was standing over them.
"Good morning!" I jumped as I heard the soft voice of Mr. Ollivander. He had walked up behind me, quiet as a cat. I turned around in the chair to look at him. He was an old and frail looking. His hair was an almost bluish shade of gray. His eyes were pale and shone like moons in his wrinkled face.
He stopped a few paces short of me, looking at me in confusion. "So," he finally asked, "What happened? Did you break it? Misplace it? Was it stolen? How did you lose your wand?" I looked up at him in confusion.
"I've never had a wand. This is my first one, unless you're talking about my crystal wand I had in my old home…" Draco hid a smile.
"Mr. Ollivander, please allow me to explain on her behalf. This is Aradia, and she just arrived from America, a Muggle part of America. Apparently, American witches don't know how to recognize true wizarding talent, because they overlooked her, and no ordinary Muggle could activate a Roman spell. I have decided to help her to get supplies, and I will try to train her over the rest of the summer, and I will bring her to Hogwarts on the train. There I will explain things to Dumbledore, who will not turn her away. Now, if you could please help Aradia choose a wand?"
The little man grinned and took out a tape measure. "Which is your wand arm?"
"I'm right-handed." I held out my hand as I was directed and Ollivander began to take my measurements, measuring all parts of my arm, then my height, the circumference of my head, and all sorts of other measurements. After a while, the shopkeeper walked away, searching through the boxes and pulling some out. Meanwhile, the measuring tape was moving on its own, measuring between my nostrils, around my neck, and the distance between my eyes.
"That's enough then," Ollivander commented cheerily as the tape measure dropped to the floor. "Try this one then." He held out a wand. "Willow and unicorn hair, ten and a quarter inches, very swishy." I took the wand and waved it. It did nothing. Draco grinned at my discomfort. Ollivander snatched the wand away.
"How about this one, Ebony and phoenix tail feather, nine inches." I tried it, but he took that one away too.
"Rosewood and unicorn hair, nine and a half inches, pliable." I took it, but it didn't work. I tried wand after wand, but none of them did the slightest thing. The pile beside me grew taller and taller, while the stacks of wands in the store grew smaller. Even Ollivander was beginning to get irritated.
"I've heard of tricky customers," he began, "but this is ridiculous." Draco had sat down and was looking bored. We had been there for about half an hour. I tried still more wands, trying just about all the wands in the store.
"Okay." Ollivander sighed. "I made a few wands a long time ago, they contained two different powerful magic substances in their cores. If you do not take to any of these wands, then I'm afraid I will have to conclude that you are as you seemed, an ordinary Muggle." Ollivander disappeared into the back of the store. He came back with half a dozen boxes, each with a golden clasp. He opened the first.
"This one is holly, phoenix feather, and dragon heartstring. It's eleven inches, and inflexible." I tried the wand, feeling definite power in it, but observing nothing.
"Okay, maybe not that one. Try this. It is made of lignum vitae wood; its core is made from a hair from the tail of a beautiful female unicorn, and the tail feather from a phoenix in its prime. It's quite springy, which is unusual for this kind of wood. It's ten and a half inches. Give it a try."
I took the wand from him. When I waved it, I felt its power. It warmed in my hand. From the tip shot a plethora of red, yellow, and orange sparks. I looked up at Draco and Ollivander, who were both standing above me.
Ollivander smiled, pleased to have at last found the perfect wand for me. Draco was staring, amazed that the perfect wand was such a powerful combination. I paid eight galleons for my wand and we left the store. Draco looked at his watch.
"We have to be going back home. My father will be expecting me to be home soon, and we have a rather long ride ahead of us. We'll get the rest of your supplies later. For now, you can use my stuff for anything you may need. Let's go."
We walked into a back alley, where I got Draco's invisibility cloak ready for when I would need it. We were, after all, afar way from his manor, and I didn't have to be hidden for the whole ride. I climbed onto the broomstick behind him, and we set off into the shadowy twilight.
The feeling of flying was amazing. We soared into the air, and it was wonderful. I loved the feeling of the air hitting me in the face, loved the feeling of weightlessness, I gradually let go of the broom with my hands, and felt the amazing freedom of the flight.
I had just closed my eyes when I heard Draco yell out, "OH, SHIT!" My eyes snapped open, but I didn't get my hands on the broomstick in time to keep from falling off as Draco had to stop suddenly to avoid a flock of birds in front of us.
I started screaming as I fell, in slow motion, towards the ground…

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Sarai, part 2
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When Mrs. Weasley told me that I was in the Burrow, I think I went into a state of shock. I can honestly say that I do not remember the rest of that conversation, or even much else about breakfast that morning, except that I ate what was put in front of me and didn't quite have the frame of mind to answer the questions I was being asked. I didn't even really notice when Fred, George and Percy left with Mr. Weasley. At some point it must have been obvious that I was not quite with it, because Mrs. Weasley brought me another cup of tea, which I drank. And, amazingly, I found my head clear and the realization of what was happening hit me like a brick wall.

Biting my lip, I smiled weakly back at Mrs. Weasley, more because she seemed to be waiting for some reaction than anything else. Instead of smiling back, she reached out and put her hand on my forehead, feeling to see if I had a fever. "Are you sure you're all right?" she asked, worriedly. I nodded, unable to say anything because I was sure I was going to really start crying.

"Mum, she just fell out of thin-air into the middle of our breakfast," Ron said, shaking his head. "Stop asking her that." He yawned. "I'm tired," he muttered, rubbing his eyes.

Mrs. Weasley frowned at him. "Well, you wouldn't be so tired if you hadn't insisted on staying up all night."

Ron shrugged, laying his head on his arms. "I had to go, Mum. Besides, you told me I could."

"Hmph," Mrs. Weasley muttered, her hands on her hips and her lips pursed. "Honestly, sometimes..." She shook her head and began collecting the plates from the table.

Ginny slid into the seat next to me, and handed me something. "Is this yours? It was laying over there," she said, pointing.

I gasped, taking my duffle bag from her and wondering how it had gotten there. I'd been sitting on it, when we'd started translating that poem back in the cabin in New York. Unzipping it, I began looking through it. Inside were a few changes of clothes, my pillow- because I have this thing where I need to use my pillow and not someone else's- a few blank books (why I'd brought them, I couldn't say), two books (The Kitchen God's Wife by Amy Tan and Spindle's End by Robin McKinley), a photo album because I'd promised to bring pictures to show the girls, and my bear. Maybe it's babyish, but I still keep Teddy around, especially when I go places, if for no other reason than he calms me down. And I was never happier to see him than right then. Zipping my bag again, I smiled at Ginny. "Thank you," I said quietly.

"Where were you going?" she asked me, a slight frown creasing her forehead.

"I... I wasn't going anywhere. My friends and I were in a cabin, in New York. We were just spending the weekend there, and there was this book, and..." I stopped, not sure how much I should tell them- I've read the Harry Potter books from cover to cover and I know what happens to muggles who find out about the wizarding world- I didn't particularly want to have my memory wiped.

But, of course, by then I'd told them enough for Mrs. Weasley to come and sit on the other side of me. "New York? That's an awfully long way to apperate, especially if you didn't mean to."

"Can you apparate without meaning to?" Ron asked, now resting his chin in his hands. "I mean, it's pretty hard even when you're trying, right?"

I stared at the grain of the table, not sure what to do next- if I told them everything, I didn't know what it would mean- how would I feel if someone just fell out of thin air onto my kitchen table and told me they were from a place where my life was a popular book series? And, from what I knew of Ron- in Book 4 at least- mentioning that the series was named after and based on Harry would not be the best move I could make. So, instead, I told them about the weekend we'd planned, and the cabin, and the book- but what caught their attention was the poem in the book.

"How did it go?" Ginny asked, her brown eyes very wide.

"She probably can't remember, if she read it and wound up in our kitchen," Ron said, looking to his mother. "Have you ever heard of anything like that, Mum?"

Mrs. Weasley shook her head. "Your father may have."

"Could it have been a portkey?" Ginny was tracing the patterns on the table as she thought.

"Portkey?" came a voice from behind me.

I must have jumped about a mile, turning in my chair as Ron said "Morning, Harry." If I hadn't resigned myself to the fact that I wasn't dreaming, I would have been certain of it then. Harry Potter walked into the kitchen, looking half-asleep and frowning. "Morning," he replied, sitting next to Ron. He smiled at me and looked at Ginny. "What about a portkey?"

As Mrs. Weasley explained to Harry about me and how I'd gotten there, I was watching him and Ron. Ron was taller than Harry (which was obvious even when he was slouching), but not by as much as I'd imagined from the way the books made them seem- in fact, Harry was probably taller than me (and I'm 5' 7"). Harry's eyes were an exceptionally bright green, and his hair was a mess- of course, that could have been because he seemed to have just woken up. Ron's hair was just as bright red as the books made it seem, and the same shade as the rest of his family's. His eyes, I was happy to note, were blue, like I'd always thought, even though it's never stated anywhere what color they are. And, for the record, they were both quite cute.

But why is Harry here? I thought, distractedly. He doesn't usually come to the Burrow until after his birthday... Then again, I've only read through Book 4, and they definitely older than 14... Maybe things are different now. I decided a moment later that this was the very least of my problems, as I noticed a calendar on the wall- the picture was moving- and it was labeled July 1997. I couldn't stop myself- "What?!"

The other four looked at me, worried. "What's wrong?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

I bit my lip- I supposed that it was now or never- I had to tell them more than I had wanted to. "Is... Is it really 1997?"

I ignored the looks they shot each other, and stared instead at my bag in my lap. Finally, Ginny answered. "Well... Yes. Why?"

I was shaking by then, and I knew I was going to cry. "I... It's not..." I didn't know how to say it. The only thing my mind could figure out then was that 1997 would have been the year the last book was going to be set- and all we knew about that was that You-Know-Who (suddenly even thinking the name Voldemort was harder) would be at his strongest and the final battle would take place. What have I gotten myself into?

"What year is it, then?" Ron asked, and I could hear the confusion in his voice.

"2001," I answered quietly. In the utter silence that followed, I added, "I just graduated high school- I just turned 18. In 1997, I was only 14. My friends and I, we were going to New York to have some fun before we went to college and stuff this fall. We just... There was that poem, and Aradia and Zoë and I took four years of Latin, so we tried to translate it, and then I was here. I mean, I guess I could be dreaming, but I don't think I am." I was babbling and I knew it- but I couldn't stop, and found that I was also crying, so I put my elbows on my duffle bag and pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes. "I mean, I've never had a dream like this, and I have a headache, and we're supposed to be home Monday afternoon, and no one's even going to notice we're missing until then, because when I called my mom, my cell phone didn't work very well, so she said only to call in an emergency, and this is an emergency, but even if I wanted to call, I couldn't because I'm in England, my phone's in my backpack in New York, and it's 1997!"

There was another shocked silence, which was broken when Ron said quietly, "Cell phone?"

"It's like a portable telephone," Harry explained.

There was a moment when I wondered if anyone was even breathing, before Ginny whispered, "Like a muggle telephone?"

I looked up in time to see Harry nod slightly, and to see the way Ron's jaw dropped open and Mrs. Weasley stiffened slightly. She was probably thinking of all the things I could have seen or heard since I'd broken her table. Ron began shaking his head. "But... she can't be. I mean, how'd she get here, then? Besides, if it was 2001..." he trailed off, shaking his head. "I don't get it."

"I don't either," I muttered miserably, clutching my bag. I did not want to be there.

Mrs. Weasley patted my arm. "It'll be fine, don't worry. We'll figure all of this out." She stood. "I think I'll send a message to your father- he might have an idea."

Ron rolled his eyes. "He'll want to interrogate her about that phone-thing." I didn't miss the glare she shot him.

Biting my lip, I wondered if I should tell them that I knew what they were talking about- would it get me in more trouble or not? Sighing, I decided that at this point, nothing could hurt. "Um... Mrs. Weasley? I... I don't think I only... I mean... I think I did more than- god, I sound like I'm in a Sci-Fi movie," I muttered. They were all looking at me, and so I played with my Winnie-the-Pooh key chain on my duffle. "I... My friends and I... There's a series of books we read... And- and you're in them," I finished quickly.

Mrs. Weasley sat back down.

"I mean... I guess what I'm saying is... I don't think that even if it were 2001 and not 1997, I'd be able to get a hold of my mom. Not from here..." I trailed off, no longer sure of what I thought. I shrugged, biting my lip. "And I don't know where my friends are, or if they're even anywhere that I can find them."

All of a sudden, Mrs. Weasley hugged me, and I hugged her back, trying not to cry and to listen as she told me that she was going to get Mr. Weasley and that they would find a way to get me home... She probably thought that I had lost it.

A few hours later, I was exhausted and terribly confused as I sat- never having moved- at the table and listened to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley talk in low tones about what they should do. In the end, it was decided that Mr. Weasley would try to get a hold of Dumbledore- I almost fell off of my chair when I heard this- and that until he could give us some advice, I should stay with them- I obviously knew enough about them that I could at least pretend to be a witch.

Ron, who- along with Harry and Ginny- had been banished from the kitchen when Mr. Weasley came back, had apparently been eavesdropping from the steps because he poked his head around the door, and said, "She can be a cousin."

"What?" Mr. Weasley's immediate and confused reply cut off the lecture his wife had been about to give.

Ginny, eavesdropping with her brother and Harry, re-entered the kitchen. "We can tell people that she's a cousin, maybe from Mum's side. At least at first, until we know what to do."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, following her back into the room. "And you won't have to get the rest of the Ministry involved- they aren't going to want to listen to how this happened."

Mr. Weasley nodded slowly, and I found myself holding my breath as he and Mrs. Weasley exchanged a glance. Finally, he smiled broadly at me. "Well, until we can find a way to get you home, would you mind staying with us?"

I was so relieved I felt like I was going to faint. I smiled, feeling safe for the first time since I'd landed in the middle of the table, and nodded. If anyone could get my friends and I home, it would be Dumbledore. Of course, there was a corner of my mind that was screaming at me to think about all of this- Dumbledore and the Weasleys aren't real, it told me, but I couldn't believe that anymore. If I wasn't convinced of the reality of all this yet, I would never be.

Ginny clapped her hands happily, grinning back at me. "You can stay in my room- it'll be fun."

I smiled back at her, trying not to blush or laugh as I thought Wouldn't Zoë be jealous if she knew I was staying in Ginny Weasley's room?

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but I didn't hear him- at the very same instant a small brown owl came hurtling through the open window, and I was shocked... It was talking. Well, yelling, actually, and it was the weirdest thing- it was as if I could hear him hooting and screeching, but at the same time I could make out words.

"IdiditIdiditIdidit!!" he cried, bouncing off of the back of Harry's head onto Ron's. "I didn't get lost!! I did it!!"

Blinking, I looked at the others- they were all acting as if it were perfectly normal for a small owl to fly madly about the room, congratulating itself. A few moments later, as Ron was wrestling with who I assumed was the infamous Pig, another owl came flying in the window, this one a large white one that landed carefully on the back of Harry's chair and glared at the other bird. I nearly fell off of my chair when she said, "Would you stop bouncing around and let him take his letter?"

"I'm holding as still as I can, Hedwig!!"

I gaped, my jaw hanging open. Nowhere, in any of the books, had it mentioned that the owls could talk. I must have looked pretty strange, because Ginny put a hand on my shoulder and asked if I was all right. Everyone was looking at me strangely and I tried to block out Pig's incessant chatter- he would not shut up.

"I... Is it me, or does everybody else hear that, too?"

They all exchanged glances and Mrs. Weasley frowned at me. "Hear what, dear?"

I swallowed, wondering how crazy I was about to sound, but figuring that it was worth a shot- it had been a weird day, and it couldn't get much weirder. "The owls... they're talking."

I missed the other's initial reactions, because Pig suddenly launched himself at me, banging into my forehead in his excitement. "You can hear us!! You understand what I'm saying, don't you? Don'tyoudon'tyoudon'tyou?!"

"Yes!" I snapped, rubbing my forehead and frowning as he circled me, still gabbing away excitedly. That owl is crazier than I ever thought he was...

Meanwhile, the Weasleys and Harry were looking at me as if I'd grown an extra head. "You... you can hear the owls talking?" Ron asked, disbelieve lacing his tone.

I sighed. "Yes, and can you please ask Pig to stop that? He's making me dizzy."

"Pig, shut up," Ron snapped, reaching for the over-energetic ball of feathers that was zooming around my head. "Would you hold still?!"

I sighed, listening as Pig continued to screech happily as he struggled in Ron's hands. "He says he can't hold still- he's too excited."

Ron frowned at me, and frowned at Pig, but said no more. Harry, meanwhile, was watching me and the owls carefully. "Can you really understand them?" he asked slowly, and I remembered that it was not entirely impossible that I might be able to hear an animal talk- after all, Harry could talk with snakes.

I nodded, and he looked at Hedwig, as if running an idea over in his mind. "Could you... prove it somehow?"

I frowned, confused. "Prove it?"

"IknowIknowIknowIknow!!" Pig cried. "Tell them-"

Hedwig cut him off, flapping her wings angrily and snapping, "Pig! That's enough!" She turned her large eyes to me and said, "Tell them that Harry's last letter was for Hermione."

"Okay..." I repeated what Hedwig had said and the others all turned to Harry, who was gaping at Hedwig. She nipped his shoulder affectionately and apologized- I relayed the message, and Harry, looking stunned, stroked her head and shrugged. "Well, it was," he finally said, sounding surprised. He looked at me and smiled with a shrug. "So... Do they understand us?"

I nodded as Pig began struggling to free himself in earnest, crying out as if by yelling louder the others would understand him as well. "Yes," I answered, frowning at Pig. He was too cute for me to be mad at, but my headache was renewing itself with a vengeance and I was getting very tired- I hadn't technically slept for over at least 24 hours, not taking into account the different time zones between New York and England.

Pig continued to babble loudly, and it seemed as if everyone began speaking at once- which is bad enough under normal circumstances, but when you have a massive headache beginning to form and you can suddenly hear two owls speaking as well, it can be a bit overwhelming. I rubbed my temple gently, trying not to be obvious about it, but of course Mrs. Weasley noticed and began fussing. Before I knew it, I found myself being practically dragged up the stairs to Ginny's bedroom and I think I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.