IX.

Jamie opened his eyes, noticing that his whole body seemed to ache intensely, and that he was incredibly tired. He looked around; Voldemort and the Death Eaters were gone. Still groggy, he wondered how long he was out. All he remembered was a whole lot of pain for a long time, and then blackness. He looked around, and then nearly vomited. He remembered now – Brett and Patrick, dead, and Erin…probably either dead or insane. She was eight years old – how could she endure pain like that and live to tell about it?

He tried to stand up and was at first unsuccessful; he toppled down onto the ground and had to hold onto the tombstone to support himself.

Erin…was she alive? He groped for her wrist; yes, that was a pulse…but it was so slow he feared she was almost dead. He tried to untie her bonds but was unsuccessful; then he remembered that they had left a knife up in the old church. That seemed so long ago…they were so carefree and innocent. Now, two of them were dead, and one was hovering between life and death…

He went as fast as he could up the hill to the church, grabbed the knife, and went back to Erin. He then attempted to cut through her bands. It was slow work, as the ropes were very thick and his hand was shaking. He got her free after five minutes of working on it, and she fell on top of him, still unconscious. Jamie slung her over his shoulders. He would come back for Brett and Patrick later.

He stumbled through Little Hangleton, looking for a house that had a light on. It must be really late; nobody's awake. How long have I been out? he wondered to himself once again as he trudged through the town. Erin was slowing him down. Finally, he saw a light up ahead. He didn't care if the Prime Minister himself sat in that house holding a late-night meeting; he was going to be taken in, or try to.

But he needn't have worried, there wasn't a single car parked in the driveway and when he knocked on the door a little old lady answered. "What is it?" she asked crankily. "It's five-thirty in the…" she stopped short at the sight of Jamie. "My goodness, what happened to you?"

"Long story. Here…" he took Erin off his back. "Where can I put her?"

"On the couch. You look awful! Tell me, what happened?

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Jamie said quietly.

"If you say so…you can sit on that chair there."

Jamie sat in the chair, sinking into its cushions and warmth. At that moment, in that chair, he would have liked to fall into an eternal sleep, to never wake up, but he knew he could not. He had to stay strong…for Erin at least. But if Erin died, then he might as well die too; that way he wouldn't have to face Ernie and his parents.

The old lady came into the living room, sat down, and said, "My name's Holly. I live here alone; my husband died about fifteen years ago. Who are you, though? And her?"

"I'm Jamie, and that's Erin." Jamie replied. "We've had a long night…"

"Did you have anything to do with those horrendous screams?" Holly asked shrewdly. Jamie gaped at her.

"You could hear them all the way across town? Why didn't anyone…why didn't…"

"Everyone heard them. So, what happened?"

"Voldemort," Holly gasped at the sound of the name, "kept using this Crucio thing on me and Erin, it made Erin pass out, or whatever's wrong with her, and I apparently passed out after a few minutes too, because when I woke up Voldemort and his Death Eaters were gone." Holly let out a low hiss during this explanation, but just as quickly turned very pale indeed.

"He's…he's back?"

"Voldemort, yeah, we watched his return."

"But how? Everyone thought he was dead…" Holly muttered.

"I dunno, but he's definitely alive now. It's a wonder Erin and I are still alive…"

Jamie went quiet, and Holly looked at him, concerned. "What's wrong?"

"It's just that…he did kill two of my friends. They're still down in the cemetery; I couldn't get them, I just got Erin because she had a pulse, but Brett and Patrick…they're gone."

"Oh Jamie, I'm so sorry," Holly said, and looking it, "I can go down and get them…"

"No, I'll go later," Jamie said firmly. "I want to do it. But I'm sure my mom's worried sick, I didn't tell her where I was going. Holly, you probably saved our lives. We owe you everything. If you want anything from me, I'm Jamie Stirman. You can look up my number in the phone book."

"It was no trouble, Jamie. Just be sure to get home!"

Jamie waved as he stepped out into the night air. He realized that he didn't know where he was. He had stumbled through Little Hangleton blindly; he was so tired and aching before that he hadn't realized where his feet took him. Well, he was still just as tired and just as aching, but he knew where he had to end up this time.

He wandered through the streets, looking at the street signs…hm, no, that's miles away from my house, thought Jamie, discouraged. How am I going to get back home? I don't have a clue where I am…

Jamie didn't know how long he walked, it might have been minutes, it might have been days; he lost all sense of time. He trudged through town, oblivious to stares he may have received, and if he traveled all day, he was sure to get a lot of them – dirty, torn clothes, large purple bags under his eyes, and a small girl slung over his back.

He arrived, somehow, on the front doorstep of Erin's house, and knocked on the door. Long minutes went by until Jamie accepted the fact that nobody was home. Exhausted, his brain fuzzy, he moved on. "To home, then…"

Once he finally found his own house, he almost swooned with relief when he saw the kitchen window open and heard voices coming from within. He staggered up the steps, exhausted, and rang the doorbell once. The voices stopped abruptly and he heard hurried footsteps from the other side of the door. He heard the lock click and the door swung open. His mother stared back at him. "Jamie! Where have you…"

But Jamie, home at last, did not hear the rest of her sentence. He collapsed on the floor, and Vanessa Stirman screamed so loudly that Maira came in. Upon seeing Jamie and Erin, she swayed violently and had to make a grab for the wall. "Erin!"