That Doorknob of a Kender!"
Flint's first reaction upon becoming oriented to wherever they had appeared was to look for the Kender. Even though he had been asleep, he knew instinctively that it was all That Kender's fault. The dwarf would never admit being concerned for the Kender – after all, he seemed to cause nothing but trouble. He'd never gotten off to a good start with Tas – Tas having 'found' an expensive piece of jewelry the dwarf had made… forcing them into an adventure with a soul-stealing mage, an irate elf, fire-beings, a Dark God, and much more. Flint earnestly believed he had aged more on that trip, and the subsequent adventures that Tas had joined them on, than he had his entire life. Tas often acted like a child – never quite growing up, always innocent (even as his throwing knives found their targets). He was also immune to the self-preserving emotion of fear. Flint had learned not to be surprised by much – even statements such as 'gee…. Maybe I shouldn't have taunted that Dark Elf…' or 'hmmm. I guess it wasn't a good idea to open the door with five locks, four traps, and warning signs all over it. OOPS!' Sensible travelers ducked and got ready to fight or flee whenever a Kender said 'OOPS'. It was probably one of the most feared words on Kryn. As such, Flint never like to let the Kender get out of his sight. However, Tas was long gone. 'Rorix's beard!' the dwarf swore, but he couldn't see the Kender. 'Mark my words, we'll be in trouble up to our ears before long.'
Tanis looked down at the grumpy dwarf. 'He's probably just having around. I admit It would be nice if he was in sight, but don't worry so much.'
'I've heard that before.'
Then a rather old wizard appeared in the hallway. 'My name is Albus Dumbledor. Why don't you step into my office for a moment.'
'Who are you?' asked Tanis suspiciously. 'Why should we trust you? Where are we?'
'Step into my office and see. Don't worry. If I wanted to hurt you I would have done so already. This way, please.'
There was something so trustworthy, so calm and hospitable about the old wizard that they complied. Through corridors and passageways and stairs they went until they had reached Dumbledor's office. Dumbledor conjured up some chairs (including one for Flint's small stature, for which he was grateful. His back had been hurting him more than usual lately) and the Wizard began to talk.
'I don't know quite who you are, where you came from, though I expect you will tell me in time. I do know that I had sent out a spell asking for aide in these troubled times. No- don't interrupt. I will fill you in. No evil or cruel people can pass into these walls. So I know that you cannot harm us. It just remains to be seen exactly what part you will play. I am hoping you will join us. Failing that, I suppose we will try to send you back. I am asking – almost begging you- to please join our cause. We need aide badly to fight Voldemort.
I know you do not know the current situation here. Therefore, I am going to quickly fill you in. The place you are in now is a school for young wizards. Many years ago, a dark wizard calling himself Voldemort besieged the land. It began with mysterious 'disappearances'… then outright murder. All who resisted were killed. The wizards managed to overthrow him – for all time, as we though. Now, though, I am not so certain. Last year there were some disturbances. Then two of our students were kidnapped. One survived to bring back the news that Voldemort had returned. I am one of the few who believe this is true – the people do not want to believe. Disappearances have become more frequent. Voldemort's sign is in the air around murder sites again. Still people ignore the truth. If we are not ready, I fear that what almost occurred fifteen years ago –Voldemort taking over- will surely happen. He would not be kind to wizard, witches, or even muggles such as yourselves. I fear mostly for Harry and those close to him, though. Voldemort wants revenge, and it not above hurting those Harry holds dear. The poor child has already lost so much… and has fought long and hard. Last year was immensely hard for him. He blamed himself for Cedric's death… and then was tortured and cruelly used by Voldemort. He still has nightmares frequently. I do not know if I can explain this to you fully, but I am begging you for help. In these dark times we must parley with all, and come together or surely fall. The lives of so many innocents are on the line. If you could not aide us you would not have been brought… so I can only hope that I can convince you to do so.
In the silence that followed Dumbledor's words, even the irrepressible Tas looked somewhat solemn.
Tanis finally broke the silence. 'Will you allow us to have the night to think this over?'
'You may take all the time you need- within reason, of course. Let me show you your rooms.'
Silently, they filed out of the room.
The accommodations Dumbledor had provided were a suite of comfortable and serviceable rooms that overlooked an adjoining conference room. Each had a fireplace, a bed, and a 'toilet' – that Dumbledor had had to explain the use of. The companions sat in the conference room, by a blazing fire. They were thinking silently over the request Dumbledor had placed upon them. Tas began whistling…
'Haven't we done enough?' cried Tanis suddenly. 'Why must the Gods ask more of us?'
'We cannot just stand back and let innocents suffer Tanis.' Laurana chided him. 'meter cal, chebcoi, dilnye.'
'I'm along for the fun.' Tas reminded them.
'Shh. We're trying to be serious, Tas!' grumped Flint.
'Fine. If you want to be that way!' Tas stormed off.
Blessed silence filled the room.
Laurana tried to clear her mind. She needed to think clearly. The people here were in dire need of help, and Laurana's elvish nature found death and wastefulness repugnant. She was no longer the spoiled elvish princess who had foolishly run away after Tanis. She was no longer even the just as foolish but battle-hardened warrior who had quite nearly gambled the world for Tanis and lost, some time later. The warrior was now battle-seasoned, calm and rational. Nu I mumak. Unibin farea dargurth? Just when it had seemed as if there was to be no more fighting… no more fear… no more loss. How could the gods ask more? Tanis was right. Maybe they had done enough. Surely it was time for them to rest. They all had seen enough horrors, had the lives of all weighing their shoulders down. Even Tas… he was not the same carefree Kender he had been. Even Tas had changed – while he still did not fear for himself, he worried and cared about others. He had almost killed himself trying to save Tika… and he didn't grin the way he used to. There were shadows there sometimes, after all the battles, after the death and destruction and hopelessness. After when Sturm had so nobly died giving strength to the faltering Knights of Solamnia… giving them new dignity and hope even as he fell. Sturm wouldn't back down if he were here. The rigid code of the Knights forbade running from a problem. Sturm had never run away… not even from his death, buying time for Laurana to use the dragon orb. She shuddered at the memory.
'We must help them.'
Flint nodded. 'I thought you'd say as much. Soft-hearted, all of you.' But he did not look angry.
'Yes,' replied Goldmoon. 'It is the will of the Gods. We will help these strangers.'
' What about you, Caramon?' asked Tanis. 'Don't you have an opinion?'
'I don't really care. War is much better than politics, anyway. I just don't want to loose anymore. We already lost so much. But War… nice and simple. Not like peace.' The big man frowned. 'Where's Tas? He was here a moment ago.'
'Probably just in his room, sulking and admiring his new treasures. We should really look through his pouches and give all of the stuff he's acquired back.' Remarked Flint. 'Oh well. I'm turning in. It's settled then. We'll stay and help. Ohhh my bones…' he got up slowly and walked painfully to his room. Soon snores could be heard reverberating throughout the suite.
'Oh well. We should all turn in. I have a feeling that we're gonna need all the sleep we can get.'
Lauranna stayed awake long after the others had fallen asleep. Memories of terror, fighting, dying, and horror kept intruding on her peace. 'Paladine keep us safe.' She murmured, turning over. As if a cool hand had pushed them back, the nightmares disappeared, and soon there was another set of lungs breathing in the slow rhythm of sleep. Cedric! One moment! I'm coming!' Harry called through the dark. 'Almost there.' He told his burning lungs. 'Almost there.' But the distance seemed incredible, and he could not force his feet to go any faster. 'Cedric!'
'Avada Kedavra!' A cold and amused voice rasped, slithering the words unbearably.
'Nooo!' Harry cried, but it was too late. There lay Cedric, as always. He never quite reached him in time.
'Crucio!' the same voice cried. An unbearable pain filled Harry's body. But this time there was no relief, no battle with Voldemort. Harry knew that his adversary's next words would kill him, yet he could not move.
'Do you like the pain, Harry Potter?' the voice asked him. 'What about a different kind of pain? I wonder… what would be the most painful, this, or something a little more cunning. I recently had the fortune to procure a rather interesting device. One use is one you will find rather interesting, I believe. Why don't we test it out?' Voldemort's cold eyes narrowed as he produced an orb, filled with toxic-looking green smoke. 'Let me see… how to activate it…'
As suddenly as it had found him, the scene flickered and changed. Voldemort was no longer in sight. Twisted and malformed trees blossomed into view, like some sort of foul play on spring. The ground smelled of rotten flesh and dried blood. Harry almost gagged, then realized he was not alone. Hermoine and Ron stood by him!
'Cripes, Harry! Know what we're doing?' Ron asked, looking puzzled. 'I don't particularly like the looks of this place. Why don't we see if we can move somewhere a little nicer?'
'No. Not yet. Voldemort said something about a 'nasty surprise.' The last time I heard that, Cedric died. I'm not going to loose either of you.' Harry replied. This was all a dream, right? Sometimes his dreams of Voldemort were true. HE prayed that this was not one of those times. Never before had Hermoine or Ron been with him. If anything happened to them…
The snap of a twig alerted them that there was someone else there.
'Hey!'
Harry spun, trying to look everywhere at once. 'Who's there?'
'Me! You remember me, right! Tasslehoff Burrfoot. Boy is this place interesting. Last time I was somewhere like this was when we all had that weird dream where everyone died and then it came true… that was 'cause of the dragon orb, though. I don't think anyone would be stupid enough to use one of those.
'A… dragon orb?' Harry asked with a sinking feeling, remembering the object Voldemort had been fingering. 'What would it look like?'
'Oh. A big, round glass ball filled with green smoke. One was used against us once, and everything came true, sort of.'
'I have a bad feeling about this…' Harry muttered. 'That sounds like the object Voldemort was using before this whole dream thing. 'What happened, when you were the target of the orb?'
'Oh. We all died. Then it came true, only in real life only Sturm... Stum was the only one who died 'cause Raistlin saved the rest of us,' Tas explained, his voice catching in his throat at the mention of Sturm. 'But it all came true. If this is a dragon orb, we'd better start looking for shelter before things start attacking us.'
'C'mon. You heard him. Let's go. And be careful. Really careful. Let's stay together.'
They set off through the dank and swampy land, looking for anywhere that might be safe. Hermoine followed along after they guys, her nose pinched. She was truly afraid. Even more afraid than when they had followed Sirius and Ron into the Shrieking Shack. More afraid than when she had faced the boggart in Professor Lupin's class. The boggart had told her that she would never be brave enough… that she would fail them all through her fear. Hermoine had decided right then that she would rather die than let that happen. It was still scary, though. What if the boggart had been right? What if she really was good-for-nothing? Her words from first year came back to her. '' 'I just won't let that happen.' She decided. She realized that she had fallen behind her friends and ran to catch up just as the first wave of monsters hit. Dark and formless, they seemed almost to merge. They were almost like fluid smoke or a solid gas. Luckily, they were just solid enough to be hurt by spells. Frantically, she threw every spell she knew at them, regardless of their effect. If she hadn't been so focused, she might have laughed at the results, as the monsters floated in the air with expressions of bewilderment, and burst apart as spells tried to turn pages that they didn't have (the spell, finding no pages, split the monsters open to create pages), and other such things.
Finally, they were allowed a rest. Bloody and exhausted, they began to walk again. There were two more attacks by the creatures. Each time, it was as if the creatures only harried them enough to exhaust them, never to kill. If she hadn't been so tired, Hermione the brainiac or Ron the chessmaster would have seen why this was. But they were just thankful for the fact that neither they nor Harry were dead.
Suddenly, Tas (who didn't seem to be bothered by the creatures for some reason) let out a shout. They looked up and saw a huge castle. It was dark and morbid, with all the usual effects of a haunted house. But at that point, it could've been a mud and wattle hut. They just wanted a place to rest. The four broke into a run – the castle was still a couple of hills away, but maybe they could reach it before they were attacked again. They were too far away. Behind them, the creatures had massed again. With a bloodcurdling shriek that spoke for itself – this time was no jest, this time the creatures were fighting for real- they began to run towards the four friends. 'Just a little further.' Panted Harry. They were all gasping, clutching stitches. The castle was only a few yards… meters… almost there. Hermoine was lagging behind. She was not made for this, and was barely keeping up with the stronger guys. She heard a yell, and suddenly realized that she had inexplicably outrun Harry and Ron. They were facing the monsters without her! She was sure she saw Harry go down…. Then the creatures turned on Ron. 'Noooooooo!' the scream tore from her lungs and she turned and began running toward the monsters, drawing on energy she hadn't known she had. The boggart's dream would not come true… this was a dream… she wasn't going to abandon her friends. As she neared them, Harry suddenly got up from where he had fallen… and she gasped. The images vanished. In panic she looked around, meeting Ron's horrified eyes from where he stood by the castle for a second before the monsters swarmed her under. It had been a ruse, and she had fallen for it. She had abandoned them. Her brains hadn't saved her….
Flint's first reaction upon becoming oriented to wherever they had appeared was to look for the Kender. Even though he had been asleep, he knew instinctively that it was all That Kender's fault. The dwarf would never admit being concerned for the Kender – after all, he seemed to cause nothing but trouble. He'd never gotten off to a good start with Tas – Tas having 'found' an expensive piece of jewelry the dwarf had made… forcing them into an adventure with a soul-stealing mage, an irate elf, fire-beings, a Dark God, and much more. Flint earnestly believed he had aged more on that trip, and the subsequent adventures that Tas had joined them on, than he had his entire life. Tas often acted like a child – never quite growing up, always innocent (even as his throwing knives found their targets). He was also immune to the self-preserving emotion of fear. Flint had learned not to be surprised by much – even statements such as 'gee…. Maybe I shouldn't have taunted that Dark Elf…' or 'hmmm. I guess it wasn't a good idea to open the door with five locks, four traps, and warning signs all over it. OOPS!' Sensible travelers ducked and got ready to fight or flee whenever a Kender said 'OOPS'. It was probably one of the most feared words on Kryn. As such, Flint never like to let the Kender get out of his sight. However, Tas was long gone. 'Rorix's beard!' the dwarf swore, but he couldn't see the Kender. 'Mark my words, we'll be in trouble up to our ears before long.'
Tanis looked down at the grumpy dwarf. 'He's probably just having around. I admit It would be nice if he was in sight, but don't worry so much.'
'I've heard that before.'
Then a rather old wizard appeared in the hallway. 'My name is Albus Dumbledor. Why don't you step into my office for a moment.'
'Who are you?' asked Tanis suspiciously. 'Why should we trust you? Where are we?'
'Step into my office and see. Don't worry. If I wanted to hurt you I would have done so already. This way, please.'
There was something so trustworthy, so calm and hospitable about the old wizard that they complied. Through corridors and passageways and stairs they went until they had reached Dumbledor's office. Dumbledor conjured up some chairs (including one for Flint's small stature, for which he was grateful. His back had been hurting him more than usual lately) and the Wizard began to talk.
'I don't know quite who you are, where you came from, though I expect you will tell me in time. I do know that I had sent out a spell asking for aide in these troubled times. No- don't interrupt. I will fill you in. No evil or cruel people can pass into these walls. So I know that you cannot harm us. It just remains to be seen exactly what part you will play. I am hoping you will join us. Failing that, I suppose we will try to send you back. I am asking – almost begging you- to please join our cause. We need aide badly to fight Voldemort.
I know you do not know the current situation here. Therefore, I am going to quickly fill you in. The place you are in now is a school for young wizards. Many years ago, a dark wizard calling himself Voldemort besieged the land. It began with mysterious 'disappearances'… then outright murder. All who resisted were killed. The wizards managed to overthrow him – for all time, as we though. Now, though, I am not so certain. Last year there were some disturbances. Then two of our students were kidnapped. One survived to bring back the news that Voldemort had returned. I am one of the few who believe this is true – the people do not want to believe. Disappearances have become more frequent. Voldemort's sign is in the air around murder sites again. Still people ignore the truth. If we are not ready, I fear that what almost occurred fifteen years ago –Voldemort taking over- will surely happen. He would not be kind to wizard, witches, or even muggles such as yourselves. I fear mostly for Harry and those close to him, though. Voldemort wants revenge, and it not above hurting those Harry holds dear. The poor child has already lost so much… and has fought long and hard. Last year was immensely hard for him. He blamed himself for Cedric's death… and then was tortured and cruelly used by Voldemort. He still has nightmares frequently. I do not know if I can explain this to you fully, but I am begging you for help. In these dark times we must parley with all, and come together or surely fall. The lives of so many innocents are on the line. If you could not aide us you would not have been brought… so I can only hope that I can convince you to do so.
In the silence that followed Dumbledor's words, even the irrepressible Tas looked somewhat solemn.
Tanis finally broke the silence. 'Will you allow us to have the night to think this over?'
'You may take all the time you need- within reason, of course. Let me show you your rooms.'
Silently, they filed out of the room.
The accommodations Dumbledor had provided were a suite of comfortable and serviceable rooms that overlooked an adjoining conference room. Each had a fireplace, a bed, and a 'toilet' – that Dumbledor had had to explain the use of. The companions sat in the conference room, by a blazing fire. They were thinking silently over the request Dumbledor had placed upon them. Tas began whistling…
'Haven't we done enough?' cried Tanis suddenly. 'Why must the Gods ask more of us?'
'We cannot just stand back and let innocents suffer Tanis.' Laurana chided him. 'meter cal, chebcoi, dilnye.'
'I'm along for the fun.' Tas reminded them.
'Shh. We're trying to be serious, Tas!' grumped Flint.
'Fine. If you want to be that way!' Tas stormed off.
Blessed silence filled the room.
Laurana tried to clear her mind. She needed to think clearly. The people here were in dire need of help, and Laurana's elvish nature found death and wastefulness repugnant. She was no longer the spoiled elvish princess who had foolishly run away after Tanis. She was no longer even the just as foolish but battle-hardened warrior who had quite nearly gambled the world for Tanis and lost, some time later. The warrior was now battle-seasoned, calm and rational. Nu I mumak. Unibin farea dargurth? Just when it had seemed as if there was to be no more fighting… no more fear… no more loss. How could the gods ask more? Tanis was right. Maybe they had done enough. Surely it was time for them to rest. They all had seen enough horrors, had the lives of all weighing their shoulders down. Even Tas… he was not the same carefree Kender he had been. Even Tas had changed – while he still did not fear for himself, he worried and cared about others. He had almost killed himself trying to save Tika… and he didn't grin the way he used to. There were shadows there sometimes, after all the battles, after the death and destruction and hopelessness. After when Sturm had so nobly died giving strength to the faltering Knights of Solamnia… giving them new dignity and hope even as he fell. Sturm wouldn't back down if he were here. The rigid code of the Knights forbade running from a problem. Sturm had never run away… not even from his death, buying time for Laurana to use the dragon orb. She shuddered at the memory.
'We must help them.'
Flint nodded. 'I thought you'd say as much. Soft-hearted, all of you.' But he did not look angry.
'Yes,' replied Goldmoon. 'It is the will of the Gods. We will help these strangers.'
' What about you, Caramon?' asked Tanis. 'Don't you have an opinion?'
'I don't really care. War is much better than politics, anyway. I just don't want to loose anymore. We already lost so much. But War… nice and simple. Not like peace.' The big man frowned. 'Where's Tas? He was here a moment ago.'
'Probably just in his room, sulking and admiring his new treasures. We should really look through his pouches and give all of the stuff he's acquired back.' Remarked Flint. 'Oh well. I'm turning in. It's settled then. We'll stay and help. Ohhh my bones…' he got up slowly and walked painfully to his room. Soon snores could be heard reverberating throughout the suite.
'Oh well. We should all turn in. I have a feeling that we're gonna need all the sleep we can get.'
Lauranna stayed awake long after the others had fallen asleep. Memories of terror, fighting, dying, and horror kept intruding on her peace. 'Paladine keep us safe.' She murmured, turning over. As if a cool hand had pushed them back, the nightmares disappeared, and soon there was another set of lungs breathing in the slow rhythm of sleep. Cedric! One moment! I'm coming!' Harry called through the dark. 'Almost there.' He told his burning lungs. 'Almost there.' But the distance seemed incredible, and he could not force his feet to go any faster. 'Cedric!'
'Avada Kedavra!' A cold and amused voice rasped, slithering the words unbearably.
'Nooo!' Harry cried, but it was too late. There lay Cedric, as always. He never quite reached him in time.
'Crucio!' the same voice cried. An unbearable pain filled Harry's body. But this time there was no relief, no battle with Voldemort. Harry knew that his adversary's next words would kill him, yet he could not move.
'Do you like the pain, Harry Potter?' the voice asked him. 'What about a different kind of pain? I wonder… what would be the most painful, this, or something a little more cunning. I recently had the fortune to procure a rather interesting device. One use is one you will find rather interesting, I believe. Why don't we test it out?' Voldemort's cold eyes narrowed as he produced an orb, filled with toxic-looking green smoke. 'Let me see… how to activate it…'
As suddenly as it had found him, the scene flickered and changed. Voldemort was no longer in sight. Twisted and malformed trees blossomed into view, like some sort of foul play on spring. The ground smelled of rotten flesh and dried blood. Harry almost gagged, then realized he was not alone. Hermoine and Ron stood by him!
'Cripes, Harry! Know what we're doing?' Ron asked, looking puzzled. 'I don't particularly like the looks of this place. Why don't we see if we can move somewhere a little nicer?'
'No. Not yet. Voldemort said something about a 'nasty surprise.' The last time I heard that, Cedric died. I'm not going to loose either of you.' Harry replied. This was all a dream, right? Sometimes his dreams of Voldemort were true. HE prayed that this was not one of those times. Never before had Hermoine or Ron been with him. If anything happened to them…
The snap of a twig alerted them that there was someone else there.
'Hey!'
Harry spun, trying to look everywhere at once. 'Who's there?'
'Me! You remember me, right! Tasslehoff Burrfoot. Boy is this place interesting. Last time I was somewhere like this was when we all had that weird dream where everyone died and then it came true… that was 'cause of the dragon orb, though. I don't think anyone would be stupid enough to use one of those.
'A… dragon orb?' Harry asked with a sinking feeling, remembering the object Voldemort had been fingering. 'What would it look like?'
'Oh. A big, round glass ball filled with green smoke. One was used against us once, and everything came true, sort of.'
'I have a bad feeling about this…' Harry muttered. 'That sounds like the object Voldemort was using before this whole dream thing. 'What happened, when you were the target of the orb?'
'Oh. We all died. Then it came true, only in real life only Sturm... Stum was the only one who died 'cause Raistlin saved the rest of us,' Tas explained, his voice catching in his throat at the mention of Sturm. 'But it all came true. If this is a dragon orb, we'd better start looking for shelter before things start attacking us.'
'C'mon. You heard him. Let's go. And be careful. Really careful. Let's stay together.'
They set off through the dank and swampy land, looking for anywhere that might be safe. Hermoine followed along after they guys, her nose pinched. She was truly afraid. Even more afraid than when they had followed Sirius and Ron into the Shrieking Shack. More afraid than when she had faced the boggart in Professor Lupin's class. The boggart had told her that she would never be brave enough… that she would fail them all through her fear. Hermoine had decided right then that she would rather die than let that happen. It was still scary, though. What if the boggart had been right? What if she really was good-for-nothing? Her words from first year came back to her. '' 'I just won't let that happen.' She decided. She realized that she had fallen behind her friends and ran to catch up just as the first wave of monsters hit. Dark and formless, they seemed almost to merge. They were almost like fluid smoke or a solid gas. Luckily, they were just solid enough to be hurt by spells. Frantically, she threw every spell she knew at them, regardless of their effect. If she hadn't been so focused, she might have laughed at the results, as the monsters floated in the air with expressions of bewilderment, and burst apart as spells tried to turn pages that they didn't have (the spell, finding no pages, split the monsters open to create pages), and other such things.
Finally, they were allowed a rest. Bloody and exhausted, they began to walk again. There were two more attacks by the creatures. Each time, it was as if the creatures only harried them enough to exhaust them, never to kill. If she hadn't been so tired, Hermione the brainiac or Ron the chessmaster would have seen why this was. But they were just thankful for the fact that neither they nor Harry were dead.
Suddenly, Tas (who didn't seem to be bothered by the creatures for some reason) let out a shout. They looked up and saw a huge castle. It was dark and morbid, with all the usual effects of a haunted house. But at that point, it could've been a mud and wattle hut. They just wanted a place to rest. The four broke into a run – the castle was still a couple of hills away, but maybe they could reach it before they were attacked again. They were too far away. Behind them, the creatures had massed again. With a bloodcurdling shriek that spoke for itself – this time was no jest, this time the creatures were fighting for real- they began to run towards the four friends. 'Just a little further.' Panted Harry. They were all gasping, clutching stitches. The castle was only a few yards… meters… almost there. Hermoine was lagging behind. She was not made for this, and was barely keeping up with the stronger guys. She heard a yell, and suddenly realized that she had inexplicably outrun Harry and Ron. They were facing the monsters without her! She was sure she saw Harry go down…. Then the creatures turned on Ron. 'Noooooooo!' the scream tore from her lungs and she turned and began running toward the monsters, drawing on energy she hadn't known she had. The boggart's dream would not come true… this was a dream… she wasn't going to abandon her friends. As she neared them, Harry suddenly got up from where he had fallen… and she gasped. The images vanished. In panic she looked around, meeting Ron's horrified eyes from where he stood by the castle for a second before the monsters swarmed her under. It had been a ruse, and she had fallen for it. She had abandoned them. Her brains hadn't saved her….