"Of course dear. You've turned out so well. Your parents would be so proud of you! Nothing is wrong with you."
"If that's true why doesn't he want me?" Mrs. Weasley was crying now and looking at me with a lost expression, like she knew she should contradict me but couldn't form the argument to make it stick. I stared back and shook my head pleading with her not to say anything, knowing she would only fail and my ears couldn't handle that at the moment.
The old scar on my forehead began to twinge and before I could consider it the pain grew to an unbearable intensity. I clapped my hands over the scar in a futile attempt at hamper the pain. I didn't realize I had closed my eyes until I opened them and saw spots of light and heard muffled noises. Then it stopped. I held my position afraid of reactivating the sensations but then slowly reoriented myself to my surroundings.
"Harry, what happened?" Mr. Weasley was holding me up by the shoulders. Funny, I never saw him leave his chair. Mrs. Weasley was gone. Maybe she went to get help; I'm not sure.
I shrugged Mr. Weasley off and put a tentative hand to my brow. As my hand drifted back down my sense of balance was skewed and my eyes rolled back into my head. I collapsed onto the cold hard kitchen floor.