Chapter 3

Holly pulled out her compass and sighted across a small valley to the peak of a distant hill. She made a mark on her map, folded it, and tucked it back into its pouch. She smiled as she looped the cord of the compass around her neck. She'd been away from home for more than two weeks now, and it had been absolutely wonderful. She had hiked progressively north along the eastern coast, and then turned inland to explore. She had met some great people, but never stayed more than a day in a single place. Independence was suiting her very nicely. She had dropped a letter to her father at a post office when she'd stopped in a small town to pick up more supplies, just to let him know she was alive. Personally, she didn't care if he knew or not. Bram had been enough companionship for her needs.

She could see the roofs of the houses of the small village in the valley, deciding that she would refresh her supplies, stay the night in a local inn, and then make her way further north in the morning. The day had greeted her by waking her up from yet another bizarre dream, but she had put it out of her mind. There are things you can control, and things you can't, and on her vacation, she would make the most of the things she could control. The late morning sun was warm on her shoulders, and Holly felt as though the world was finally giving something back to her.

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"Good morning, Harry!" Ron greeted his best friend, who still had his face buried into his pillow. "Harry? C'mon, I know you're awake."

Leave me alone, Ron. I had a miserable night's sleep, Harry thought to himself as he buried his face deeper into the pillow.

"Harry? It's almost noon! You tossed and turned so much last night that you slept through breakfast. You're going to miss lunch. Hermione is already here!"

Harry pulled the bedding up over his head. His voice was muffled through the quilt. "Ron, it can't possibly be noon already. I feel like I just went to bed."

"Harry? You can't be still sleeping!" Hermione's voice sounded through the door. Harry pushed himself upright immediately and stared at Ron. "Oops. I'm up Hermione, I'm up!"

Harry grabbed his glasses and pulled on some proper clothes as fast as he could while Ron stood there laughing. It was a welcome sight for Harry, like every morning had been for the past couple of weeks, although he wondered if he was going to go blind soon from the bright orange décor of Ron's bedroom. He was glad to be able to spend time with Ron. They had played Quidditch out behind the garden, enjoyed Mrs. Weasley's excellent cooking, played countless games of wizard's chess and Exploding Snap, and even got to test some of Fred and George's latest experiments in the world of magical mayhem. It had been a wonderful distraction from the more harsh facts of reality. In the very least, it had kept him from brooding, and he was grateful for that.

"Are you dressed yet? Hurry up!" Hermione said before pushing the door open anyway.

"Hermione!" Harry choked, still trying to pull his shirt over his head.

"Oh, come on now. It's not that terrible. You're dressed enough," Hermione said, very matter-of-factly. Ron was trying to stifle his chuckling, but it wasn't working. Harry finally finished pushing his head through the collar of his shirt, leaving his hair standing in every direction. "Now I'm dressed. You could have waited another moment, you know. Hermione?"

Hermione was now also covering her mouth with her hand, shaking with silent laughter. Harry looked very confused. "What?"

Ron finally burst out. "Look in the mirror!" he blurted between laughs. Harry turned to the mirror, his eyes widening at his own appearance, and his ears turning bright red. "Thanks a lot," he said, frantically trying to flatten his hair with his hands to its normal level of messiness.

"Oh, Harry, it's just that there hasn't been much to laugh about lately," Hermione said, "and you must admit, you did look quite amusing." She walked over to Harry and examined his face closely. "You can still see some of the bruising around your eyes if you look. I can't believe your own uncle did that to you. I was really worried."

Harry sat back onto Ron's bed. "It's not that big a deal, Hermione. I mean, he pushed me out the door, and I fell into the railing." Harry looked at Hermione with a faint look of pleading in his eyes. "Can we just talk about something else?"

Hermione nodded, then looked to Ron for some help. "Exploding Snap anyone?"

Harry shook his head. Hermione twisted her lip. "Harry, can I look at that book of yours?"

"Sure. Why?" Harry leaned forward, reaching under the edge of Ron's bed and withdrawing a large, dark green, leather-bound book.

"Well, honestly, I think we could learn something valuable about You-Know- Who in it." Ron flinched at the thought of that book having anything to do with Voldemort, but Hermione folded her arms and kept talking. "Obviously, that's why Mrs. Figg gave it to you. Harry, have you even been reading this?"

"Yes, well, not as much as I suppose I should. It's not exactly light reading, you know."

"Harry, this could be important! Haven't you heard what's been going on around England? All the attacks? You-know-who is bound to try something with you soon. I'm surprised . . ."

Ron interrupted her. "Hermione, hasn't he had to deal with enough stress this year? Hell, it's been one thing after another, and he's finally had a chance to relax. You-know-who spent all of last year setting up to kill him, and I did nothing to make it any easier on him. Give him a break!"

"Ron, if Harry isn't prepared for whatever You-Know-Who has planned, who knows what could happen? He has to take every opportunity to be ready. I'm sure . . ."

"He's been through enough!"

"Stop it both of you!" Harry raised his voice over both of his friends. They both stopped dead in the middle of their arguments and stared at him. "I don't want to see you two fighting. That's the last thing we should be doing. Hermione, I really don't want to read it just yet. Please. I want to enjoy spending some time with you two, away from whatever is going to happen. I don't want to think about it."

Hermione looked at him with a strained expression on his face, but simply bit her lower lip as Harry continued. "I'm not going to have much of a chance to live a normal life soon. I don't think I ever have. Just . . . let's just go play a game of Exploding Snap."

"Are you sure, Harry?" Ron asked.

"Yes. Hermione, if you want to look through the book while you're here, I don't think I could stop you if I wanted to. Besides, you're much better at that kind of thing than I am." He held out the book for her. "I'd trust you with it more than I'd trust myself."

Hermione looked as though she were fighting an inner battle with herself. Finally, she reached for the book and took it in her right hand. Then, she flung her left arm around Harry's neck. "I was so worried about you!"

Harry looked over Hermione's shoulder at Ron, who seemed just as speechless as Harry. Ron shrugged, and Harry returned Hermione's hug. She pulled back from him fairly quickly, resuming her usual demeanor. "Well now, I believe we have a game of Exploding Snap waiting for us?"

Ron grinned deviously. "Oh yes we do. However, we've got a new twist to the game. You see, Fred and George have been, uh, experimenting with our set. You'll see."

Ron hadn't been kidding about his brothers' modifications to his Exploding Snap set. They played outside, to avoid causing destruction to the Weasley household. By the time they returned to the house, each of them had been blasted by various colours of what almost looked like a fine mist of paint and smoke. Hermione's face was bright blue and purple, Ron had been covered by red pigment ("At least it matches your hair," Hermione said.), and Harry's hair was standing on end, now a vibrant shade of green ("Matches your eyes!" Ron teased him.).

"We've got to clean up before we get to the table," Hermione observed.

"Before mum sees us," Ron agreed, as he walked around the edge of the staircase and ran directly into George.

"Wicked!" George exclaimed. "Fred! It worked! Come see this!"

"What?" asked Fred as he came into the room, then almost doubled over in laughter. "That's perfect! Extreme Exploding Snap! Of course, we're working on a better name for it . . ."

". . . like 'Rita Skeeter's Quick-Makeup' . . ."

". . . but it's still experimental, so we have some time."

Hermione cocked an eyebrow. "What do you mean, experimental?"

"Oh that," George said. "You see, we're having trouble finding a red colour that comes off."

Ron looked like he'd been punched in the stomach. "What?!?"

Just then, Mrs. Weasley came down the stairs. "Time for lunch, everyone. Go clean up . . . good heavens! Fred! George! What have you two done this time?"

"Oops, got to go!" Fred said quickly, grabbing his brother and making a break for the back door.

"Not so fast!" yelled their mother, but she was too late. She looked at the three teenagers who remained, appearing much like a box of crayons, and she put her hands on her hips. "Well, I suppose we had best put you three right before lunch. Come along," she said, pulling out her wand and turning to the kitchen. Harry exchanged wide grins with his friends, then followed Mrs. Weasley into the kitchen.

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"Do you need some help finding something, young man?" asked the middle aged gentleman from behind the counter.

Holly was still looking around the aisles of the small variety store, adding supplies to her basket. She paid no attention to the man's question, so he asked louder, "Ah, sir?" Holly looked around the store, and seeing no other customers, realized he was addressing her. She turned fully towards him with an unreadable expression on her face.

"I'm quite alright, but of you please, could you tell me where I might find matches, dried fruit, and nuts?" she asked neutrally.

The gentleman looked shocked. "I-I-I'm terrible sorry, ma'am!" he exclaimed, moving quickly around the counter. "Let me get those for you straight away!"

Holly laughed. "No, really sir, it's quite alright. It's actually somewhat funny. I've been hiking all day, I have short hair, and it's an easy mistake to make."

The merchant didn't seem fully convinced that she wasn't upset with him, and bustled around the store plucking odds and ends from the shelves. "Here, we have waterproof matches, just for travelers like you. We have several varieties of fruit and nut mixes. I recommend the one with the dried apples. What else would you be needing for your travels?"

Holly grinned lopsidedly and nodded. "Actually, a newspaper, I think."

"Right away! These here are national news, and this stack has local news."

Holly selected a local paper and placed it by the register with the rest of her provisions. The gentleman tallied the bill, excluding the newspaper ("For your troubles, miss.") and bid her a good day and safe travels. She loaded the supplies into her pack just outside the store and moved to shoulder her load. It was getting late, and the shadows were stretching across the main street of the town. She stood there for a moment, appreciating the quiet beauty of the small town. The sound of someone calling out made her jump.

"Mr. Potter!" A man wearing funny clothes came hurrying up towards her. "Harry Potter, my goodness, of all the people to meet! May I . . . you're not Harry Potter, are you?"

Holly stared at the man for a moment, her eyebrows deeply furrowed. "Who? My name is Holly, not Harry."

"Oh my, obviously not. I'm so terribly sorry, but the resemblance is remarkable."

"Who IS he?" Holly pushed.

"Ah, you wouldn't know him, dear, you're a Muggle." The man immediately looked as though he wished he hadn't said that. "I'm sorry, never mind, young lady. Sorry to bother you." He turned to leave, but a strange thought flashed across Holly's mind, as though she could see what the man was thinking. Her friends used to tease her, saying that she could read minds. She never told them that she sometimes thought she really could, and she tended to trust her unusual instinct.

"He has something to do with that man with the red eyes, doesn't he?"

The peculiar man jolted to a halt as though he'd been slapped. "You know about You-Know-Who? But you can't, it's not possible."

Holly rolled her eyes. "I don't know about anyone. But you were thinking about someone who reminded me of the red-eyed man in the dreams I've been having, and for some reason, I'm sure you know." The look on the man's face made Holly wonder if she had spoken her thoughts much too quickly. She had a tendency to do that. Open mouth, insert foot.

The man's eyes widened. "I really must go," he said quickly. "Sorry to bother you, miss. Good day." He tipped his hat and hurried off down the street.

"That was strange," Holly mused to herself. She shouldered her pack and made her way down the street to the local inn.

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Evening found everyone scattered around the Weasley's small but cozy sitting room. Harry and Ron were deeply engrossed in a game of Wizard's Chess. Mrs. Weasley was working on the upcoming Christmas's sweaters with Ginny's help, while Ron watched them between moves, looking for an opportunity to jinx the maroon ball of yarn to a different colour. Hermione was pouring over Harry's book feverishly, jotting down notes every so often. Fred and George were trying to convince Ron to let them experiment with his chess set.

"Come about, Ron! It would be great! Picture the possibilities!" Fred pleaded.

"I'm picturing knights and bishops jumping off the board attacking me while I sleep. No!"

George tried his luck. "It could be one of our biggest sellers! Everyone loves Wizard's Chess because it's interactive. We'd just be improving on it."

"I'd reckon almost getting killed by a chess set once is enough!"

"Knight to H-5." Harry watched as his piece wiped one of Ron's pawns off the board. "I'm with Ron on that one, George, Fred."

"Besides," Ron continued as he studied the board, "you'd probably destroy it. This set has been through enough. Knight to C-6. Checkmate."

Harry tipped his head back and moaned as his king danced around frantically on its square. "You did me in again!" it yelled at Harry. "Every single time! Where's my Queen? I want to see my Queen! Is she ok?"

Ron laughed at Harry's misery. "I'll have to work on getting you a self- playing set for Christmas, Harry. You could use the practice."

Just then, the Weasley's rather unique grandfather clock let out a low clang. Mrs. Weasley looked up at it and smiled. "Ah, your father is home!" The kitchen door swung open and Mr. Weasley came into the room. He looked exhausted. "Hi kids, hi Molly." He leaned over and kissed Mrs. Weasley on the cheek. "This has been quite a day."

"What's wrong, Dad?" George asked.

"Cornelius Fudge, that's what." He sat on the edge of Mrs. Weasley's armchair. "The man is completely mad, I'm telling you. I really shouldn't go into it, not now. I'm exhausted." He turned to his wife and squeezed her shoulder. "I'm going to grab a bite to eat from the kitchen and get ready for bed."

Everybody's eyes followed Mr. Weasley as he left the sitting room. Ron and Harry exchanged curious glances. Nobody spoke for a moment, until Mrs. Weasley stood, putting aside her knitting. "Well, dears, I'm going to go speak to your father. You all get to bed at a reasonable hour, you hear? Goodnight Harry, Hermione. Fred, George, no explosions after I've gone to bed, now." With that, she kissed Ginny on the top of her head and left. Ron wasted no time, grabbing Harry by the arm and pulling him out of the room. He dragged Harry up the stairs and to his bedroom, almost shutting the door on Hermione.

"Harry," Ron whispered conspiratorially, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Before Harry could answer, Hermione had inserted herself into the middle of her two friends. "Don't you two go listening in on Mr. and Mrs. Weasley! That's totally inappropriate!"

"Did you see the look on his face? Something really important happened. Hermione, you're always the one who says we have to know what's going on and we have to be ready and such. If something happened with Fudge, that's exactly what we have to know!"

Harry stopped the two of them by holding up his hands. "Cut that out! There you two go again! Besides . . . I was just going to ask Mr. Weasley myself."

Ron looked very disappointed that his little spy mission had been cut off before it had begun, but Hermione beamed. "Now that's much better." She lowered her voice slightly. "But you WILL tell us what he says, right?"

"Of course I will." Harry cracked a smile. "I'll be right back."

As Harry approached Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's bedroom door, he heard Mr. Weasley already deep in discussion with his wife.

"Molly, I don't know whether I should be pleased or not. Even though Fudge isn't the most popular of sorts, he's still in control of the Ministry. I expected him to ask for information about Harry, but I didn't expect this!" A pause, then Mrs. Weasley spoke. "Arthur, he wouldn't really fire you! There would be an uproar." "The Ministry is already divided, Molly. It's ironic, but the ones supporting Fudge are the ones we all figure are Death Eaters, including Malfoy. Fudge knows I'm at the bottom of his fall in popularity, but for now, he can't prove it." "Oh Arthur." The conversation stopped for a moment, and Harry took that as the opportunity to knock on their door. He heard footsteps approach, and Mr. Weasley appeared.

"Harry! Are you ok?"

"Yes, Mr. Weasley. I had wanted to ask you about what happened at the ministry." Harry hesitated, then said, "I know it has something to do with me."

Mr. Weasley nodded. "Please, come in, sit down." He closed the door behind Harry. "How much did you hear?"

"Nothing, really, sir. I just want to know what's going on." Harry sat down on a chair near the foot of the bed.

"Arthur! Really, do you think it's a good idea?" Mrs. Weasley looked anxiously at Harry.

"Molly, he needs to know. If last year was hard for him, can you imagine this year getting any better? He has a right to know as much as possible." He turned to Harry, sat down on his bed, and took a deep breath.

"You already know that Cornelius Fudge doesn't want anyone to know about You-Know-Who's return. In the weeks since then, the attacks on Muggles and Muggle-borns have started again. It's almost as bad as it was 15 years ago. The Aurors can't function because if Fudge lets them, it's as though he's admitting You-Know-Who is really back. The Ministry of Muggle Affairs has been stretched to the limit. We've had to make attacks look like house- fires, heart attacks, and even one riot. We've only been able to save four people out of the dozens who have been attacked, and it's not going to get any better. That's where I come in. Fudge doesn't like Muggles, I know it. He doesn't like my department. He certainly doesn't like me. In fact, he knows that I've been gathering support within the Ministry, but he doesn't have any proof. If he has his way, I'll be fired soon. If that happens, I don't know what will happen to the Ministry."

Mr. Weasley looked at Harry, not certain if he should regard the boy with pity or anxiety. He settled for both. Harry squirmed slightly under the gaze, but Mr. Weasley continued. "Dumbledore feels that it won't be long until we can't cover this up anymore. He also feels that You-Know-Who will probably come after you soon."

Harry had been looking at the floor, but when Mr. Weasley paused at this statement, he looked up and met the older man's eyes. "Why is Fudge so obsessed with hushing this up?"

"I don't know, Harry. At least, I don't know anything more than the obvious, which is that Fudge will look like a failure of You-Know-Who returns. Of course, the longer we go without fighting back, united, the more dangerous You-Know-Who becomes, to all of us, but especially to you. Beyond that, I think Dumbledore has a few of those answers. I'm going to contact him tomorrow, I promise. I have to tell him what's going on. Maybe we'll be able to piece some things together."

Harry was looking a bit paler than he had been when he entered. Mrs. Weasley noticed that, got up and walked over to him. She crouched down by his chair, where he was staring at his hands. "Harry, are you going to be ok?" He nodded dumbly, and she sighed. She put her arms around his shoulders and gathered him into a hug, which he found himself returning, even though it seemed his body had gone numb. Mrs. Weasley pulled back after a minute, and her brown eyes met his. They were full of concern, just like a mother. Harry felt a pang for a moment, but pushed it back. Now was not the time to become emotional over yet another thing.

"Harry, you need to go get some sleep. You look like you could be toppled with a feather. Would you like a sleeping potion? I have some in my cabinet."

"Thank you, but no, Mrs. Weasley. I'll be fine." Harry stood up. "Thank you for telling me that, Mr. Weasley. I needed to hear it."

Mr. Weasley clapped Harry on the shoulder firmly, watched him leave, then slowly closed the door behind him. "Molly, let's go to bed."

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Holly sat outside the pub, at a small table, enjoying the fresh night air and a drink. She had found a lovely little room at the inn, more like a Bed and Breakfast, owned by a single family who had been very warm and welcoming to her. She had explored the shops and sights around town for the afternoon. It had been a wonderful day, although yet another person had approached her as though he recognized her. Yet again, he had been dressed on unusual clothing, and once he had realized Holly was not the person he knew, he had apologized profusely and left with a very puzzled expression on his face.

She had shrugged it off, but even aside from that, something kept nagging at the back of her mind, sending chills up her back. She took a long swallow from her drink, then looked back down at her newspaper. Why are there never any positive headlines? The front page held picture of a burning building, then another image of the building after the fire. The headline had read:

"Mystery Fires Claim Another House."

How peculiar, she thought. The article described a string of fires that had taken place across England, mostly in the weeks since she had been on her trip. The latest one had been in a town not 50 miles from there. In every case, everyone inside had died, and there had been no conclusive evidence of faulty wiring, use of matches, or something hot left unattended. Even more peculiar, there had been no evidence of arson. Holly loved a good mystery, but not when people were dying.

People around this little town were relaxed and content. She hoped that such things wouldn't happen to a place like this. A violent chill ran up her spine, forcing her to shudder visibly. She didn't like the thought that had followed. It was too much to think about. Premonitions were not what she wanted at the moment. She finished her drink and set the empty glass back down on top of a pound note for a tip.

As she made her way back up the street towards the inn, something caught her attention. She ducked behind the corner of a shop and carefully peered through some shrubbery. Two people dressed in dark robes had emerged from the shadows near the inn. They spoke for a moment and turned towards the building. Further around the far side of the inn, she could see two more people dressed similarly. What was going on? She got a very strange feeling about those people, as though she had seen something like them before. In the dim light of the streetlamps, she could see one of them pull something from his robe. It was about a foot long, and looked like a straight, thin stick. No . . . it couldn't be . . .

The other figures followed the motion immediately. The first one began to approach the front door. They were going to kill the people inside. The family who owned the inn and the other guests were all going to die. She couldn't just sit there, she had to do something. She shook her head. This was asinine. This was suicide. She sighed. This was the only option.

She moved around the building as fast as she could, staying under the shadows. The first dark figure had almost reached the front door, followed closely by the second. The other two had approached the far side of the building, presumably the back door. Holly racked her brain. She was running out of time. A strange sense swept over her, and she could feel the malice radiating off the dark men. Her skin prickled. The first man raised the stick he carried, and she heard his voice say a long, complicated word she didn't recognize. The door burst open, and the men filed inside. The light coming from the door poorly illuminated the front steps and the walkway to the street. A second bang indicated that the back door had also been blown in. Holly then felt a second wave of emotion pass over her; pure terror. The people inside. Holly could almost see through their eyes. She could feel their terror, hear their thoughts. They were being rounded into the large sitting room that served as a lobby. They were all about to die. Holly felt her last reservations disappear and took off running for the front door. She was almost there when she heard the same voice cry out another word. "Crucio!"

Holly doubled over and fell to the ground. She heard screaming and knew that someone inside was being tortured. She pulled herself to her feet and tried climbing the steps, but stumbled and fell, feeling the rough wood of the top step rise up to meet her head. She heard the voice again. "Finite Incantatum." The echoes of pain disappeared from her body, and as she looked up, another voice spoke. "What was that?" Footsteps.

She hadn't yet pulled herself to her feet when one of the robed figures emerged from the doorway. She knew she was in trouble, but the man stopped and stared at her from under the hood of her robe. His thoughts weren't purely malicious anymore . . . he was shocked. "What on earth do we have here? Potter!" He grabbed her roughly by the collar and she felt herself being dragged inside. "Bloodwell! You'll never believe what just showed up at the doorstep!"

Holly was thrown forward onto the floor and was finally able to look up into the faces of the attackers. When she did, the reaction was not what she had expected. "What in the name of Merlin?!?" the man who had dragged her in exclaimed. "I swore it was Potter! It's not only not him, it's a girl!" Holly felt her blood rise hotly to her face. "I am NOT a girl! I'm a woman."

What a stupid thing to say, she thought to herself, but what did it matter? She was about to die anyway.

"Well, well, well," the tallest man said, obviously the leader. He approached her, holding out what Holly was now sure was a wand. Why did that seem so familiar to her? Once again, it didn't matter. The man continued. "Don't you look a lot like Potter. Still, just a Muggle. What were you trying to accomplish, sneaking around out there? Causing trouble for us? I should hope not."

"I'm going to stop you," said Holly, fully meaning it, but the words sounded empty to her ears. She could feel the fear from the people around her, the couple who owned the inn and two guests, but more fully, she could hear the thoughts of the men facing her. "Stop us, will you? Can you really? Let's see you stop this! Avada Kedavra!"

A flash of green emerged from the tip of the man's wand and struck the owner of the inn directly in the chest. His eyes wide open in shock, he crumpled to the floor, obviously dead. He wife screamed and fell to the ground beside him, shaking his limp body. Holly stared up at the man, who was laughing pitilessly. "You're such a young fool. It's amazing, you almost act like Potter too."

Holly was in a livid rage, any trace of personal fear forgotten. She lunged at the man, but before she could reach him, that word echoed in her ears. "Crucio!"

The world exploded in pain around her. She couldn't see, she couldn't hear, nothing existed beyond the stars flashing across her eyes as she felt herself burning from the inside. She couldn't breathe, the pain was paralyzing her. Just when she was sure she would die, it stopped, and she found herself lying on the floor, gasping. She heard the man's voice through the fog in her head. "How amusing."

Holly weakly raised her head from the floor. The dark men were laughing. She saw that the other victims of this attack were also on the floor, alive or dead, she couldn't tell. She took a deep breath and rose to her feet. She looked down and saw that everyone but the owner was still breathing. She turned back to the dark man and their eyes met. She could feel his malice, his thoughts. He was playing with her, with the others, with their very lives, and he was enjoying it. She could feel the minds of the other men, and they were all alike. She touched her mind to theirs. Out of an instinct she didn't know she had, she fixed her thoughts around their minds, like a wrangler lassos cattle. She felt an unusual energy build up in her mind. The leader spoke again.

"Now, my foolishly brave little Muggle, we've had our fun, but we like to end the night with a proper bonfire. It's time to say goodnight." He raised his wand towards her. "Avada . . ."

She didn't know if she screamed out loud, or simply in the confines of her mind, but louder than a thunderclap, the force of the word overpowered the entire room. "STOP!"

Holly looked around. All four men had fallen to the floor, unconscious. The victims were in a similar state. Holly felt weak. Her head was spinning, and the room wavered. She had no idea why it had worked, but it made sense to her, and for now, somehow, she was safe. A popping sound made her spin around to see another man, dressed in a robe thrown over . . . nightclothes? He looked alert and tense, in total contrast to a head full of bright red bed-hair. Any other time, he might have looked comical. Immediately, several other men appeared out of thin air. Holly should have found this completely bizarre, but in light of everything else from the evening, it wasn't. The red-haired man approached her, his eyes wide. "Are you ok? What happened?"

Irrationally, she flashed one of her lopsided grins at him. "I could ask you the same question. What did happen here?"

He didn't answer her. "How did these men end up unconscious?"

"Well, the four in normal clothes were knocked out by them," she said, pointing at the robed men on the ground. "I think one of them is dead though. The rest of them, well, I did it."

"You did what?" The red-haired man looked utterly confused. Holly barely noticed. Her vision was blurring and her own words barely made sense to her ears.

"I did it. They killed that one man, and they were going to kill me, so I knocked them out." The room rocked under her feet and she felt herself toppling. Everything felt cold. She grabbed the edge of the chair. "I think I need to sit down."

She didn't make it to the seat. She tipped forward into Mr. Weasley's arms and passed out.

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"Harry? Harry! Snap out of it, please!" Ron's voice was frantic. Harry had come back from talking to his parents and had related the whole story to Ron and Hermione. Instead of allowing himself to be pulled into a conversation, he had finished the tale and said bluntly, "I'm tired, I'm going to bed." He had crawled into his blankets, signaling an end to the conversation. Hermione had gone off to her blankets in Ginny's room, and Ron had blown out the candles. Ron seemed to have just fallen asleep when Harry had woken him up with a look of raw fear and pain on his face. When Ron had asked him what was wrong, he didn't answer. He had just stared straight forward, shaking. Ron had called out, which brought his mum, dad, and Hermione running into his room. Ron hadn't even noticed when his father suddenly Disapparated as an alert from the Ministry came in.

Foreign sights and sounds had flashed in front of Harry's eyes. He had been pretending to sleep when pain, like the Cruciatus Curse, only muted, had coursed through his body. It had stopped, and Harry had watched as a group of Death Eaters cornered a group of Muggles. A wave of shock and terror almost threw him to the floor as he saw a flash of green light, the Killing Curse, wipe the life from the body of a Muggle man. Then, there had been the Cruciatus Curse again, stronger, more real. Pain burned through his body and mind, to the very core of his being, threatening to finish him off completely when it had stopped. He gasped for breath and looked up to see Ron and Hermione hovering over him. "Harry? Can you hear me?"

Harry tried to catch his breath, then sat upright and replied weakly, "Ron, I don't know what just happened, but someone is being attacked, right now. Somebody has to stop it . . . have to stop them from killing . . . stop . . ." His voice faded off, and he shuddered again.

"Ginny, get him some water." Mrs. Weasley said. The girl nodded and ran out the door.

"Where's dad?" Ron asked.

"He just got called by the Ministry. There's a Muggle attack."

Ron nodded, his face pinched. He looked at Hermione, who was squeezing Harry's hand. "Harry? Harry, come on. Stay awake. Harry!"

The world spun in front of Harry's eyes, and finally, he slipped into unconsciousness.