Ron and Harry stumbled outside, closely followed by the other members of the Weasley family. It was dark, cold and raining; they hadn't even been allowed time to fetch their outer robes. Harry didn't know whether it was a side-effect of his scar, or the general atmosphere, but the sense of impending danger was overwhelming him. He felt very vulnerable out here in the depths of night. He became aware that he was shivering.

Mrs Weasley was conferring frantically with Bill, even as she continued to urge them all away from the house.

"What shall we do? Ron, Ginny and Harry can't Apparate away…oh dear heavens, Bill…." She was trying hard to keep her obvious panic under control.

"Fred and George," Bill said firmly. "Get out of here. Go to London.You know where. DON'T ARGUE…. Mum, you go with them." As he said this, he held out his hands. "Accio broomsticks!"

"I'm staying with the children!" Mrs Weasley said fiercely, grabbing a broom out of Bill's hands.

"Mum!" Bill replied urgently. "Don't be silly! When did you last sit on a broom? Besides, someone has to go warn Dad and the others not to come here…"

Mrs Weasley made an infuriated noise, which Harry took to mean she had realized Bill was right. Harry found a broomstick being pushed into his hands. Next moment, Bill had tapped his wand on the back of his neck. A wet, slimy sensation slid between his shoulder blades. Harry recognized it. He had just been Disillusioned. Glancing at his torso, he saw that he had indeed changed colour and texture to match his surroundings.

"OK," Bill said tensely. "Listen. You need to be silent, OK? Got your wands? Right, 'point me' spell everyone…here's the compass heading, set yours to match…don't stop, not for anything. Keep on going until you get to the Monument of King Billy in Long Hampton. Avoid Muggles. Understand? We'll rendezvous there…Remember, fast as you can, and no noise! Mum, Fred, George, GO!" Bill then tapped his own neck with the Disillusionment charm, and faded out into the darkness.

Harry thrust into the air. He heard three cracks behind him, which he took to mean that Fred, George and Mrs Weasley had got away. Harry realized with sinking stomach that his broomstick was the airborne equivalent of a sick snail. Most brooms kept in the Burrow garden shed were cast-offs; they were old and slow and rather erratic. Only Ron had his new broom with him. Harry could see, faintly, the silhouettes of his companions alongside him. It was as if someone had cut shapes out of the landscape and night sky and then glued them back into position; you could still just about make out the joins if you knew what you were looking for. Harry focussed on the outlines of his friends.

As they circled to gain height, Harry looked down. He saw with panic that dark figures were Apparating onto the lawn below. He leaned further forward on his broom, but it continued to struggle to gain speed. He couldn't help glancing down again to see what was going on.

He could see wand sparks – green, and red, and purple. He could hear shouting on the night breeze.

"Can't find anyone!" it sounded as if someone had yelled. The voice was furious.

"….the house then!" he heard.

The wand sparks coalesced into flaming spheres. Laughter floated upwards towards him.

Faster, Harry urged his broomstick. Faster, faster…He was still circling, still too low to zoom off into the night…He had a bad feeling about this. He could sense chameleon-like shapes close by to him. One had darted some way ahead. Probably Ron, on his new Cleansweep… Ron was lucky, he was so attached to it he had bothered to bring it home with him… There had been no point taking his Firebolt to the Dursleys…The two figures closest to him were also flat on their broomsticks trying to coax the last bit of speed and elevation out of them.

Harry looked down again. The balls of glowing fire were being hurled at The Burrow. The house caught fire. Magically enhanced, the flames spread rapidly. Harry's heart ached even through the fear still gripping him.

The heat and smoke were blasting into the night. Harry could feel it. Then, the house itself exploded with a dreadful shattering roar. Harry gasped. Shockwaves were smashing out in all directions. Harry clutched hard at his broom, which was buffeted off course and zig-zagging crazily.

He heard, or thought he heard, a squeak from the piece of sky next to him. Ginny? he thought. Peering frantically through the smoke, the ash and the darkness, Harry was almost sure he saw a human shape which did not correspond with that of someone crouched safely on her broomstick. Had the blast unseated her? Harry's heart jumped painfully again. It looked as if Ginny's broom had been badly caught up in the back draft. Harry squinted desperately through the smoke and debris, and urged his broom towards the faint silhouette he could make out within it.

The shape plummeted wildly, in the pattern of a broomstick lurching out of control. Ginny…She would fall right into the hands of the Death Eaters. Harry did not care to think what the Death Eaters might do to a fifteen year old girl from the blood-traitor Weasley family…Harry redoubled his efforts to get his own broom into a higher gear, and plunged after her as fast as he could. He was sure it was Ginny, although she had valiantly obeyed her brother's instructions and made no sound other than that first involuntary little yelp.

Oh for his Firebolt…Harry called on every last ounce of his Quidditch skills and training, and pushed his sorry broom to the absolute limits of its capacity. He was drawing alongside..Yes, he was there, he was next to her, he could reach out his hands…

Ginny grasped him back with frantic fingers. Harry manoeuvred beneath her and managed to drag her onto his broomstick. He kept one arm firmly about her, as her seating was still precarious. He could feel her breath, fast and shallow against his neck, and he tightened his grip.

His old broomstick was struggling even more now with the double weight. Harry realized it could go no higher. Cursing, he urged it onwards. He didn't have the height to follow in the direction the others had taken. He headed for the woods, skimming over the tops of the trees. Now he had absolutely no idea where they were heading, or how they could rejoin the others. Or what might be after them...

Harry glanced back, terrified that he would see signs of pursuit. He didn't. What he did see was an enormous shape shooting into the night sky: something huge, glittering, and green. It was a skull, with a serpentine tongue protruding from its leering mouth. It was as though the sky had birthed a new and ominous constellation.

The Dark Mark. Everyone's worst fear….It was Arthur Weasley who had told him that...


The Death Eaters screamed in triumph as The Burrow burst apart. Its twisted, gabled shape collapsed in a furnace of unnatural colours.

"At last," one of them said reverently, eyes shining. "The Weasleys begin to realize what will be coming to them!"

"Pity they weren't here though," another commented sourly. "It's a shame we didn't get to play with them…"

"Going after the Weasleys is like trying to exterminate an ant-hill. They breed so fast…"

"Unless they had a secret hiding place in the house. In which case…BOOM!" A female Death Eater laughed manically.

The remaining Death Eater was silent. He looked up at the blazing remains. The fires cast little jumping orange lights into his black eyes. Curtains of greasy hair framed his face.

This Death Eater stared intently into the skies. Did he see, or did he not see, in the billowing smoke and flames…what might, perhaps, if one stared long enough, or hoped long enough, be Disillusioned figures in flight?

"MORSMORDRE!" one of his fellows cried out.

And there it was, a skull made of emerald stars, hovering above the wreck of the Weasley home.

You did not need any skill in Divination (useless subject!) to gather what the night skies were, on this occasion, trying to tell you about the future.