The Man of the Moment

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Terror at Minus One Hundred Feet

By the time Harry had reached the Gryffindor common room, he was greeted with the sight of Hermione pacing furiously.

"Oh, I do hope nothing terrible has happened!" she exclaimed, as she paced across the room. Ron, who was looking quite pale, merely looked up at her.

"What are you on, Hermione? If they've gone for the Ministry, something bad has happened!" he spat. Hermione glared at him.

"There's no need to bite my head off!" she retorted angrily. Seamus started to laugh.

"For Merlin's sake, guys- you've only been going out for a few hours; it's a little early for the first big row," he commented, with a smile. Neither Hermione nor Ron seemed particularly amused by his comment, however.

"It's not funny, Seamus- my dad could get killed!" he shouted, before slumping into a chair. Hermione walked over to him and wrapped her arms around him.

"He'll be fine, Ron," she soothed. Ron looked at her again, but this time without any anger in his features.

"How can you be sure?" he asked. Hermione smiled.

"Because- just think of all the people who are around to protect him," she pointed out carefully, clearly unwilling to let the rest of the common room know any more details. Harry understood her words- the Order, the Brethren, not to mention the Ministry's own defence leagues would all ensure Arthur Weasley's safety.

"I'm sorry, Ron- I didn't realise you were so stressed," Seamus said, looking rather apologetic. Ron smiled sadly at him.

"It's alright, mate," he said languidly, as he settled back into Hermione's arms. The very sight bemused Harry- seeing his two best friends behaving as though they had just stepped out of one of those Muggle romance dramas that his Aunt Petunia liked to watch was very odd indeed.

Neville looked puzzled.

"Why exactly would your dad be in danger, Ron?" he asked. Harry noticed that Ron looked particularly uncomfortable at this remark.

"Well, I saw those Dementors and figured, for some reason, that Voldemort might be attacking the Ministry. I don't know why- I'm probably just being paranoid," Ron conceded, and Harry knew it to be a lie. Neville smiled sympathetically.

"I'm not surprised you're so worried," he opined. "You dad has got a fairly dangerous job, given the situation we're in. I'm surprised that Voldemort hasn't tried to attack the Ministry before..."

"That's it, Neville- make him feel better, why don't you?" Dean interrupted, his voice laced with sarcasm.

"Mind you, I haven't seen old Beauchamp go off on one quite so much as she did back there," Seamus mused. "I don't suppose the rumours are true, are they? That the reason she's been off sick for so long is because of Voldemort? I just assumed it was the Daily Prophet going over the top, but there could be more truth in the whole thing after all..." He trailed off and appeared lost in his own thoughts. Harry thought that was perhaps the best thing- in his opinion, the less anybody voiced their opinions about Persephone, the better off she was.

"It just all seems a little bit odd," Neville murmured. Harry looked at him.

"Odd?" he asked. Neville appeared uncomfortable at his words.

"Nothing," he said quickly, before inspecting one of the windows with an intensity that seemed somewhat feigned to Harry. Never the less, he thought it best not to pursue it.

Suddenly, Harry became aware of an insistent scratching noise coming from one of the windows. Before he could investigate, however, Neville had climbed up onto a nearby table and reached forward to open the window. A small excitable ball of feathers made its way into the common room via this new entrance route, and Harry soon realised that it was Pigwidgeon. He flew around the room roughly three times- or two and a half, considering he made a beeline for Ron halfway through the third lap. Eventually, he dropped a small letter into Ron's lap, and Ron opened it cautiously. Harry watched as Ron scanned the contents of the letter, and then turned a shade paler.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked, walking towards Ron and Hermione. Ron thrust the letter into Hermione's hand, who looked equally horrified as she read it.

"It's from Ginny," he explained quietly. "It's about my dad."

"What happened?" Harry asked, doing his best to ignore the clammy feeling of uneasiness settling in his chest. Hermione took a deep breath.

"Ginny says that Mrs. Weasley received some news earlier today- Mr. Weasley's in St. Mungo's..."

"Is he alright?" Harry interrupted. Hermione shrugged.

"Ginny doesn't say," she replied. "I suppose she doesn't know." Hermione lowered her voice. "The thing is, it looks as though the Order might have been hit pretty hard. What Persephone hypothesised in the Great Hall appears to be rather accurate- the Ministry has indeed been attacked."

Although this piece of news wasn't exactly unexpected, Harry still felt horrified. With the amount of security the Ministry of Magic building had, the fact that Voldemort managed to not only attack it, but to injure the Minister for Magic, worried Harry greatly. Not just because it reminded him that if an entire governmental body could be infiltrated by Voldemort, he, Harry, stood no chance; but also because Ron's dad was in trouble. He had been injured quite seriously before in the fight against Voldemort- would he be able to survive this time around?

Ron, however, had already stood up and made his way towards the exit of the common room. Hermione grabbed Harry by the arm and dragged him in the same direction.

"Come on, before he does something stupid," she hissed, and they both followed Ron out into the hallway.

"Ron, what are you doing?" Hermione exclaimed, as Ron stormed towards the nearest staircase. He stopped, and turned around slowly, eyeing Hermione with distain.

"Where do you think?" he retorted. "I'm going home- I've got to see mum..."

Hermione grabbed his arm.

"Ron, calm down- I'm sure your dad will be alright..."

"Maybe- but I doubt Ginny is, seeing as she sent me that letter," he spat back. Hermione glared at him.

"Just calm down!" she ordered. Ron looked as though he were about to respond in none too friendly a manner, and Harry felt the need to intervene before the whole thing escalated into a full-blown argument.

"Look, none of us know exactly what's happened," he explained, as patiently as he could. "Maybe you should write back to Ginny, or your mum?"

At that point, any subsequent objection to Harry's suggestion was halted by the appearance of a rather flustered looking Professor McGonagall.

"Mr. Weasley- there you are," she said, gesturing for him to follow her. "I'm afraid there's been..."

"I've heard," Ron replied dully. "Ginny owled me."

McGonagall's stern expression gave way to intense sympathy.

"Your mother would like to see you," she explained kindly. "The prognosis for your father sounds good, so try not to worry too much... Mr. Potter, Miss Granger; will you accompany us?" she asked, in that oft-used tone of voice of hers that suggested the request was anything but.

Shortly after, a quick Floo ride from McGonagall's office saw Harry, Ron and Hermione in the kitchen of number 12 Grimmauld Place being gripped in one of Mrs. Weasley's most forceful hugs.

"How is he, Mum?" Ron asked, pacing the kitchen floor. His voice sounded slightly muffled to Harry, however; most likely because he was squashed against Molly Weasley's impressive maternal bosom.

"Oh, he's not too well, Ron," she replied, as she let go of Harry and sat down on a nearby chair. "The Healers won't let us visit yet- they say it won't do any of us any good..." She wiped her brow with a slightly shaking hand. "I've just been waiting by the fireplace for them to make contact."

Hermione made her way over to the stove.

"Would you like a cup of tea, Mrs. Weasley?" she asked. Mrs. Weasley smiled.

"The great British cure-all? Oh, thanks, Hermione; you're an angel," she replied, as Hermione busied herself making tea. She tapped her wand against the copper kettle and it began to whistle as the water began to boil.

"Where's Ginny?" Harry asked, as he suddenly thought how upset Ginny must be about the whole situation, given the fact that she had scribbled a hastily written letter to her older brother just half an hour ago.

"She's upstairs," Mrs. Weasley replied. "She told me she wrote to Ron..." She broke off from her explanation, and coughed away a small sob.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she said, calming herself down a little. "We're just all a little bit on tenterhooks at the moment."

"What's happened, mum?" Ron asked, having ceased his pacing. "We got a couple of Dementors in the Great Hall..."

Ron didn't really get the chance to finish his explanation, for the look of horror on Mrs. Weasley's face was enough to shock even the most stoic of people into silence.

"Dementors? In Hogwarts?" she asked warily, gripping Ron's shoulder tightly. Ron nodded uncomfortably.

"Yeah... They weren't after us, though," he explained hastily. "At least, Persephone didn't think so. She reckoned it was a diversion, to get the Brethren away from the Ministry- well, the members that are in Hogwarts at the moment. What happened at the Ministry, anyway?"

Mrs. Weasley looked extremely uncomfortable upon being asked this question.

"Well, I'm not sure..."

"Mrs. Weasley, we're going to find out in the Daily Prophet if it's serious; we'd much rather hear it from somebody we trust," Hermione said, soothingly as she placed a cup of tea in front of Mrs. Weasley. She sighed heavily, and rested her chin on her left hand.

"Oh, I know you're right, Hermione dear," she said, before taking a sip of her tea. "Alright, this is what I know so far. There was an attack on the Ministry, a serious one. The Brethren members were kept away, although a lot of them have come out in force now. The Aurors were also taken by surprise; so far there have been around twenty reported casualties, but they keep finding more... I'm still waiting to hear more news..."

Hermione looked horrified, which mirrored Harry's own feelings. He didn't know whether Voldemort had ever tried to attack the Ministry during his first attempt at domination of wizarding world, but he was sure Hagrid had told him that Hogwarts was the only place Voldemort didn't dare attack, purely because of Dumbledore's presence. Despite Dumbledore having been a prominent member of the Wizengamot, Harry doubted it had prevented Voldemort from trying to take over. This time, however, it sounded as though he might have succeeded. He wished he knew more about what had happened- apart from Persephone, Snape and Alex's hypotheses; he had no clue what exactly had happened in the Ministry. Was the building destroyed, or just the wizards and witches within it? Perhaps it was both, but Harry tried not to dwell on that prospect too much.

Suddenly, the fireplace burst into green flames, and Kingsley Shacklebolt's head appeared within the flames.

"Molly? Molly, are you there?" he asked. Mrs. Weasley scrambled over to the fireplace.

"Yes, I'm here, Kingsley- what's happening?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

"Arthur's been moved from Intensive Charms to the fourth floor," Kingsley explained calmly. "He's going to be alright, Molly- you can see him now."

"What about the others?" Mrs Weasley asked. Kingsley looked perturbed.

"We're not so sure; we're still waiting on the emergency rescue parties. Persephone turned up just a minute ago- I can't see what help she's going to be, given the fact that she's not walking unaided herself, but every little helps..."

"Where's Alex?" Mrs Weasley asked. Kingsley frowned.

"Persephone says she's had an attack of stomach pains- hardly the best time for the twins to get rambunctious. Having said that, the less that's known about Alex's involvement, the better, I suppose..."

Mrs Weasley turned swiftly around, and Harry got the impression she wasn't exactly thrilled by the expressions of rapt attention adorning his, Ron's and Hermione's faces.

"Why don't you go and tell Ginny the good news," she said, in a rather deliberate manner. "She's been so worried."

Harry didn't need telling twice, and judging from the way Ron and Hermione also made their way to the staircase in the hallway, neither did they.

"Mum's really worried this time," Ron commented, glumly, as they made their way up the stairs. "I know she worries a lot, but this is the worst I've ever seen her."

"He'll be okay, Ron- Kingsley said it himself," Hermione replied, as she placed her hand tenderly on Ron's shoulder. Her managed a small smile, and tilted his head forward to kiss her hand. Harry thought he heard the portrait of Sirius' mother gasp in horror at their interactions- but on closer inspection, she looked too disgusted to rant with her usual vigour. Harry couldn't help but chuckle; he was sure that anything that could shock Mrs Black into silence would make Sirius smile- wherever he happened to be.

Ron tapped gently on Ginny's door with his knuckles.

"Who is it?" a shaky voice asked.

"It's me," Ron replied. "Can I come in?"

Harry heard small footsteps pad towards the door. A sudden click of a lock soon followed, and the door opened. Ginny stood awkwardly in the doorway, her usual cheerful, pink-cheeked demeanour replaced by a much sadder, paler one. The sight filled Harry with a sudden sensation of sympathy.

"Do you know anything?" Ginny asked quietly. Ron nodded.

"Yeah- Kingsley's just made contact with Mum; apparently they've moved Dad out of Intensive Charms into another ward. It sounds like he's going to be on the mend," he explained, as Hermione hugged Ginny tightly without a shred of embarrassment; something Harry thought he would have found impossible to do.

"So, he's going to be alright?" Ginny asked, looking up at Ron. "I'm sorry I sent you that letter- it must have worried you. I just didn't know what to do..."

"It's alright, Ginny," Ron replied. "He's going to be alright, and that's what matters. Kingsley seems to think we can visit soon, I think. "

Ginny smiled.

"That's good- Dad's spent too much time in St Mungo's the past two years," she commented. Harry knew what she was referring to- this recent injury of Mr. Weasley's would be the second time in three years he had ended up at St Mungo's courtesy of Voldemort. Harry knew from experience that he was lucky to have survived on both occasions.

"When do we get to visit him, then?" Ginny asked. Hermione frowned momentarily.

"Your mum didn't say," she replied, before looking at Ginny with a kindly expression. "You see, it looks like the Ministry has been attacked- severely."

Ginny shuddered momentarily.

"I know," she sighed. "Mum told me."

Hermione nodded, and smiled in sympathy. Harry, not knowing what else to do, patted Ginny gently on the back, and hoped the gesture didn't appear too awkward.

"Do they know anything else?" she asked, looking up at Harry.

"A little," he replied, recalling what Kingsley Shacklebolt had said to Mrs Weasley. Ginny looked at him expectantly.

"Well? How bad is it? Has anybody died? Does the Ministry still exist? Has Voldemort put every member of the Ministry under the Imperius curse?"

Her questions came at such a rapid speed, Harry felt quite dizzy once she had finished, not to mention even more disconcerted; he hadn't even thought of the possibility of Voldemort controlling the Ministry.

"We don't know, really," Hermione replied, which gave Harry some thinking time. "A few Dementors infiltrated the Great Hall. Harry and Persephone got rid of them before they could do any damage, and then Persephone came to the conclusion that they were just there as a decoy; to keep the Order and Brethren members at Hogwarts out of Voldemort's way. I'm guessing that he has an idea as to how pivotal Alex and Persephone are to keeping the Order and the Brethren connected with each other. If he had managed to sever that line of communication, the situation could have been even worse..." She trailed off, and sighed heavily. Ron put his arm around her, slightly awkwardly at first.

"It'll be okay," he said, in what was a rather soothing tone of voice for him.

Ginny looked at Ron and Hermione for a moment, and then turned to face Harry, a somewhat indignant expression etched across her features.

"Okay, Harry- what's going on with those two?" she demanded. Harry inwardly groaned. He didn't mind telling Ginny everything about Ron and Hermione, but she had inadvertently reminded him that she wouldn't be the only person who would collar him in once the summer term started, hungry for gossip. He briefly wondered if it would save him a lot of bother just to put out a press release to the Daily Prophet, but he quickly ignored it. They would be far too busy with the crisis at the Ministry to even print a paragraph in the 'announcements' section.

Shortly after this, they soon found themselves travelling by Floo powder yet again, only this time they ended up near a derelict department store that Harry knew to be the entrance to St. Mungo's; although to the casual Muggle passer-by, it resembled no more than an abandoned shop.

"We're here to see Arthur Weasley," Mrs Weasley stated to the dummy in the shop window, which nodded its head in a regal fashion. They all walked towards the glass- making sure the nearby shoppers didn't notice them- and soon found themselves in the crowded reception room of St. Mungo's. The first time Harry had visited the hospital, there had been many patients and visitors milling around the area. This time, they were joined by a dozen members of the Dark Force Defence League, who had formed a solid mass of human muscular wall, which proved impenetrable to the many reporters jostling for news of the Minister for Magic.

"Can you tell us how he is? Is he out of the critical phase yet?" one reporter yelled, before he swivelled round, and caught sight of Mrs Weasley.

"Mrs Weasley, could I trouble you for a few words?" he half asked, half demanded, thrusting a green quill under her nose, which hovered expectantly of its own accord over his parchment. Before Mrs Weasley could do or say anything, two of the Dark Force Defence League has grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and pinned him against the floor. Trembling, Mrs Weasley steered Ron, Harry, Hermione and Ginny towards the reception desk, where the witch manning it took one look at her, and called for two Healers and an Auror to escort them up to the fourth floor.

"If any of those meddling gits come anywhere near you, love; I'll sort them out," the Auror said in a gruff voice, as he tapped his wand against his hand in what Harry thought was a rather threatening manner. The Healers merely smiled in a friendly manner, and one of them, a small brunette with kind eyes, took Mrs. Weasley's hand as they all traipsed up to the fourth floor.

Harry looked up at the various signs denoting each ward- he had, of course, visited St. Mungo's before, when Mr. Weasley had been attacked by Nagini, Voldemort's snake, and had been treated for wounds in the 'Dangerous' Dai Llewellyn ward. This time, however, the wards they kept passing looked even more ominous. Various people were being ferried about the different wards, some with limbs either missing, or replaced with wings- Harry saw one woman being aided by a Healer to the toilet, and noticed that one of her hands had been turned into a lion's paw. The further along the corridor they went, the worse condition the patients in the wards appeared to be in. Finally, they reached what looked to Harry to be a rather large ward, named 'Ward 7b: The Hex Recovery Unit'. Mrs. Weasley appeared to steel herself for a moment, and suck in a large lungful of air.

"Well, come along now," she said, in a tone of voice that suggested she was encouraging herself rather than anyone else to enter the ward. The Auror walked deliberately over to the door and held it open for Mrs. Weasley, Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny and the two Healers.

The first thing Harry heard was Hermione's attempts to stifle a gasp.

"Oh my," she breathed, sounding beyond horrified. On looking around, Harry understood why she had sounded so shocked. The ward was packed full of people- many of whom Harry recognised as members of the Ministry. Eric, the security guard that Harry had met on a few occasions now, was lying flat on his back in a bed, a number of spells apparently working on him to keep him breathing. Harry could see a bluish white pulsating tube of light pushing his lips apart, forcing air into his lungs. Another tube of light, this one reddish pink in colour, was forcing him to exhale. A flustered Healer noticed Harry's dumbfounded expression, for she quickly whipped out her wand and pointed it at the ceiling near Eric's bed, and a privacy curtain rolled down out of nowhere, blocking him from view.

"This way, Mrs. Weasley," the Healer said, a sympathetic smile on her face as she led them past a small witch who was being bandaged up by another of the many Healers, the wand and bone emblems on their lime green robes glinting in the bright light of the ward. They were swiftly ushered into a private ward near the end of the room, but not before Harry spied through the heavy curtains one of the Healers sigh heavily and neutralise the spells keeping Eric breathing, before gently closing his eyes and covering him with a white sheet.

Another Healer was standing over Mr. Weasley's bed, looking exhausted as he pushed his hand through his wispy white hair, which caused him to resemble somebody who had been hit with a Shocking Hex. He looked across at the Healer leading Mrs. Weasley into the private room with palpable relief washing over his features.

"He's woken up, but he needs his rest," this Healer informed their brunette Healer who had entered the private room. "Are these all family?"

"Pretty much," the dark-haired Healer replied. "You go and have a break- I'll keep an eye on the Minister."

The white haired Healer nodded appreciatively.

"All the medical notes are above the bed- I hope Penny gets back soon," he replied, tapping his wand at the headrest of the bed, before exiting the room. The brunette picked the sheet of paper up and studied it with a frown etched across her features.

"Well, Mrs. Weasley," she said. "It appears that your husband has had a lucky escape. He was struck with some quite extensive Flaying Hexes, but they seem to have done very little damage..."

Mrs. Weasley inexplicably burst into great sobs that shook her entire body. The Healer gently put an arm around Mrs. Weasley's shoulders.

"It's okay; he's going to be fine," she soothed. Mrs. Weasley shook her head.

"It isn't that," she said, in a trembling voice once she had calmed herself down. "It's just... well, I'm sure you've heard about his little Muggle artefact passion?"

The Healer nodded patiently. Mrs. Weasley sighed.

"Well, a friend of ours managed to get hold of a mullet-proof vest, I think..."

"Bullet proof," Hermione corrected, quietly. Mrs. Weasley nodded.

"Yes, one of those. She... Our friend, mentioned something about it being old- Second World War, I think, and lead lined... I'm not quite sure, but I'm sure..."

"Lead has been known to absorb the impact of Flaying hexes, yes," the Healer said calmly. "Your husband really did have a lucky escape, then."

Mrs. Weasley managed a small giggle through her shock, but the sound was something alien to Harry's ears. It didn't sound like a proper laugh at all, but rather like something that had decided it wanted to be a laugh, but by the time it escaped from the diaphragm to the larynx, its resolve had wavered somewhat, and the resulting noise was difficult to identify.

"Yes; yes, I suppose he did," she said, between those alien giggles. Harry looked around the room, and saw Ron looking paler than Harry had ever seen him. Hermione put her arms around him quite comfortably, and Ron didn't seem to mind the contact. In fact, he hugged her back as though the reaction was a knee-jerk one. Mrs. Weasley appeared to have noticed, but she said nothing about it.

"What, so she's actually going out with him?" Ginny whispered to Harry, her expression a mixture of disgust and amusement.

"Yeah," Harry whispered back. Ginny stifled a giggle.

"Poor Hermione," she remarked. Harry nudged her gently in the ribs.

"He's your brother!" he protested. Ginny snorted.

"Hey, if you had a brother, you wouldn't wish him on one of your best friends as a boyfriend," she retorted smoothly, and Harry found himself suddenly lost for words.

At that point, Mr. Weasley gingerly pulled himself up into a sitting position, and smiled bravely at his visitors.

"Well, hello there," he said in a hoarse voice. "Did the Healer tell you? It was all thanks to that fillet-proof vest that Alex gave me! Her great uncle had fought in the Second World War, apparently. It was lucky she still kept his old memorabilia, wasn't it? Even luckier I'd been giving a demonstration to Dominic Bagshot at the time..."

Mrs. Weasley said nothing in response, and instead flung her arms around him so hard, that he winced a little in pain.

"Oh, careful, dear," he said, with a hoarse laugh. "I'm still rather sore around the rib area."

Mrs. Weasley smiled, and let go a little, before kissing him on the cheek.

"I'm so glad you're alright, Arthur," she sighed. "I've been so worried... How bad was it?"

Mr. Weasley shrugged, and then made room on the edge of his bed for Ginny, who had rushed towards him, a look of intense worry on her features, and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"The Ministry building needs some serious repair work," Mr. Weasley explained, as he put a protective arm around Ginny. "I'm going to speak to a few contractors as soon as someone will let me use a Floo contact point. The casualty list is pretty high, last I heard- I've been out cold for... goodness, is that the time?" he enquired suddenly, looking at the watch on Mrs. Weasley's wrist- the one that actually told the time, as opposed to the one that told her exactly where all her family were. Mrs. Weasley nodded.

"It's been touch and go for quite a while, Arthur," she whispered. Mr. Weasley nodded gravely.

"Well," he said, "at least now I can look all those other poor people in the eye who've suffered at Voldemort's hands."

Harry noticed that Mr. Weasley's voice had dropped significantly in volume upon making his last point, but Harry understood every word all too clearly. It appeared as though Ron had too, for he looked at Harry with a mixture of weary cynicism and genuine concern, before he walked over to the other side of Mr. Weasley's bed. Harry presumed he had done this so as not to disturb Ginny, whom he had noticed had made herself quite comfortable sat next to her father.

Suddenly, Harry heard what sounded like some sort of scuffle in the nearby ward.

"Miss, you can't just waltz in here- we're struggling as it is..."

"Look, this bloke's not too badly injured. The receptionist woman told me to bring him up here, and so I have!"

Harry whirled around, and saw what all the commotion was about. Persephone had staggered into emergency ward with a redheaded figure whose weight she was supporting.

"Hey guys," she panted, "I found another one. Guess what? We share a name!"

She carefully escorted the man to a nearby bed, and grinned at Harry.

"His name's Percy," she announced, "just like me!"

Harry managed a weak smile, though he knew his face was struggling to register horror. Percy Weasley was sitting in front of him, covered in cuts and bruises, and looking thoroughly uncomfortable at the whole situation. Judging by the looks on Ron, Ginny and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's faces, he wasn't the only one.

"Harry, would you come with me to the tea room? I'm sure Mrs. Weasley could do with a cup of tea- we can bring one down for her, can't we?" Hermione announced, staring hard at Harry.

"Erm, yeah, we can do that," Harry said, uncertain as to why exactly a cup of tea seemed to be so urgent. The way Hermione was dragging him out of the hospital ward by the sleeve of his jumper suggested to Harry that he had evidently missed some subtle cues regarding privacy, however.

"They're going to need to talk, aren't they?" Hermione hissed, as they reached the corridor. "Honestly, Harry- sometimes you're as bad as Ron!"

Harry couldn't help but smile.

"Isn't he supposed to be your boyfriend?" he enquired cheekily. Hermione slapped him on the arm.

"One of the things my mother always told me about relationships is that you have to love somebody's flaws as well as their strengths," she replied.

"Love? You've only been going out for a day," Harry retorted drolly. "Isn't that moving a little fast?"

Hermione blushed crimson.

"Slip of the tongue," she said breezily. "You know what I mean."

They wandered up to the tearoom in silence, whilst Healers rushed around, hovering patients to various specialist departments. The whole place seemed disorganised and chaotic, and it wasn't until they actually reached the little café on the fifth floor that Harry felt a little more relaxed.

"This came as a real shock, didn't it?" Hermione whispered, as she pursed her lips and blew on her cup of tea to cool it down. "I mean, the chaos out there- clearly nobody in the Ministry was expecting such an attack. At least St Mungo's had been prepared for this kind of emergency- they've started using nearby hotels as make-shift emergency departments. You know, for treating minor injuries."

Harry furrowed his brow in thought. The fact that nobody was expecting Voldemort's latest stunt, considering the number of spies and organisations working against him, seemed unbelievable. He said as much to Hermione whilst she was testing the heat of her tea by gingerly sipping at it.

"I wonder why nobody was prepared?" he added, as Hermione also began to frown.

"It doesn't make much sense, does it?" she whispered back. "Unless..." She trailed off, as though she felt guilty for where her thoughts were taking her. Harry looked up at her.

"A spy?" he asked. "Or, perhaps, a spy that hasn't been doing what he claims to be?"

"No, it can't be," Hermione hissed. "It can't be Snape. He's in far too much trouble with Voldemort at the moment- if he so much as tried to approach him, he'd be killed- or worse."

"What if he was trying to save his skin?" Harry asked. Hermione shook her head vigorously.

"No. I won't accept that. He's got too much to lose- Persephone, Alex..."

"His limbs?" Harry suggested dryly. He had to agree with Hermione, though. However much he detested Snape, Hermione had a point- he probably did have too much to lose by trying to aid Voldemort in such a blatant manner. Whether he was above more subtle methods, Harry still wasn't convinced to the contrary.

Whilst they carried on their discussion in this vein, Harry was distracted by the sound of a nearby door slamming. The sound of footsteps that followed, accompanied by a strange clinking sound suggested that somebody had entered the room with the aid of a walking cane.

"Oh dear," Hermione whispered, nudging Harry. "Persephone doesn't look very pleased. Shall we ask her to join us?"

Harry turned around, and indeed saw that Persephone had caused all the noise he had heard. She reached the attendant, and rested on her walking cane a moment.

"I don't suppose you've got anything stronger than a cup of tea, have you?" she asked, in a weary sounding voice. The attendant smiled genially at her.

"We have coffee," she replied. Persephone pushed her free hand through her fringe.

"I was thinking more along the lines of a shot of firewhiskey, but a coffee will do," she said, at which the attendant smiled back and said something about bringing it over to her seat. Persephone nodded, handed over a few sickles, and turned around. She spotted Harry and Hermione almost instantly, for she raised a hand in a lax wave at them.

"How are you two?" she asked, sitting down gingerly. "I take it I made a major blunder with Percy there?"

Hermione looked a little uneasy.

"Not exactly a blunder, Persephone," she began, but Harry cut across her.

"Yeah, it was a bit of a blunder," he commented. Persephone offered him a dark smile.

"I kind of gathered, judging by the sea of horrified faces," she replied. "Is he the fabled Weasley prodigal son, then?"

Hermione nodded.

"Yep," she replied, stirring her tea unnecessarily. Harry felt the need to elaborate.

"Yeah; they had a pretty big bust-up over Percy being offered a big promotion. Mr. Weasley thought it might have been the Ministry trying to spy on the Order..."

"He was probably right," Persephone replied. "No disrespect to the bloke, but Fudge was becoming rather paranoid around that time- we had a couple of people working in the Ministry for us, and they were reporting pretty much the same tactics. In fact, we faked a spy to make sure. Got one of our girls to act as thought she were a rather poor spy for the Brethren. That kept them off our backs for a while."

The gleam in Persephone's eyes told Harry that she had thoroughly enjoyed pulling the wool over Fudge's eyes. However, Harry still felt concerned about the lack of warning anybody had received for Voldemort's latest attack.

"Persephone," he asked, "do you think that there might be a..."

The café assistant placed a cup of coffee on their table next to Persephone, and it was this that caused Harry to halt in his questioning.

"Oh, thank you," Persephone said, and the assistant smiled before picking up a few empty cups nearby and walking back to the counter. Once Harry was satisfied she was no longer within earshot, he continued to ask Persephone her opinion as to whether the Order, or the Brethren, were being spied on.

"Well, Harry," she said, her features set into a thoughtful frown. "I doubt we've got any spies in the Brethren. I know there are quite a lot of us, but the kind of training Alex puts all new recruits through, you'd have to be made of pretty hard stuff to go undercover there. I suppose it's not impossible, though. I don't think there's anybody in the Order that would be spying for him, either."

She looked around the tearoom again, before taking a sip of her coffee.

"Keep this under your hat," she explained, "but I'm more concerned that we might have a broken link in our communications due to more unsavoury tactics."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked. Persephone sighed.

"I've got a nasty feeling that the somebody who was going to warn us was stopped somehow, and I don't like where that particular train of thought takes me," she explained.

"Who was the somebody?" Hermione asked tentatively. Persephone rubbed her temples with her fingertips.

"Augustine," she replied. "I don't know- I just think something's not right. He's usually so very punctual when it comes to briefings; such as the one Alex organised for the Ministry and Azkaban missions today that he mysteriously didn't turn up to. He pretty much regards tardiness as the eighth deadly sin." She pulled out her wand and began to stir her coffee with it. "I've just got a feeling something isn't right, you know?" she half asked, half stated as she looked up at Harry. He couldn't help but nod. He knew exactly what she meant; that horrible feeling of low-level nausea that strikes at the pit of your stomach when you just know, deep down, that something is drastically wrong.

They drank their various beverages in relative silence after this, each lost in their own thoughts. It wasn't until a rather furious looking Ron and Ginny stormed up to their table that the conversation picked up in earnest.

"That utter git!" Ron fumed, as he pulled up a seat next to Hermione. Persephone looked up after downing the dregs of her coffee in one swift movement.

"I take it you haven't kissed and made up with your brother?" she enquired sweetly, in an innocent sounding voice that Harry could just tell was anything but.

"Too bloody right," Ron replied darkly. Hermione frowned at him.

"Well, what exactly happened, then?" she asked, looking at Ron, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"We kind of didn't see eye to eye," he replied cagily. Hermione glared at him, and he faltered.

"Alright, so we had a huge fight," he admitted. "I was just really angry about what he said to Dad, and about you, Harry," he said, looking up at Harry, who suddenly found himself feeling a little uncomfortable about being dragged into the whole affair.

"Mum is just happy to see him," Ginny added, with a heavy sigh. "Dad's not too pleased, though."

Ron snorted.

"Not too pleased? He was livid!" he exclaimed. "See, Hermione, it wasn't just me..."

"So, we just left them to it," Ginny explained. "I didn't fancy getting caught in the crossfire. Mind you," she added, shooting Ron an uneasy look, "Mr. Hothead over hear couldn't help but say a few choice words."

Ron went a particularly violent shade of red upon Ginny's words, and sighed angrily.

"I was upset!" he protested. Hermione put her hand on his arm and stared him down.

"What did you say?" she asked, warily. Ron shrugged.

"I just... I just told him I never wanted to see him again," he admitted. Hermione looked aghast.

"Ron!" she exclaimed. Ron shrugged again.

"What? I don't!" he retorted. Hermione sighed.

"Ron, he's still your brother!" she chastised.

Persephone, who had remained quiet up until this point, swiftly downed the remains of her coffee and stood up.

"She's got a point, you know," she said, looking at Ron kindly. "I've pretty much been there, done that and bought the replica robe when it comes to awkward and angry family moments. You can't just let it fester..."

"But I didn't let it fester," Ron pointed out. Ginny nodded her head slowly in response.

"No, you didn't," she agreed. "You did quite the opposite. That's part of the problem."

"I think you should give him a chance to explain everything," Persephone advised, as she grabbed her walking cane. "I consider myself quite the grudge-holder, but I'm managing to deal with everything my old man has done. You might surprise yourself." She patted Ron gently on the shoulder, before walking towards Harry.

"I'm going to see what news the Brethren and the Order have acquired- shall I keep you posted?" she asked. Harry nodded gratefully.

"Yes, please," he replied. "I'd like to know... You know."

Persephone smiled.

"I know," she replied, before setting off out of the tearoom. Harry watched her walk away, and began to think about her words, especially regarding Augustine. It seemed a bit too convenient that nobody had been able to contact him, and if he was one of their main sources of information concerning specific large-scale strikes by Voldemort and his vastly increasing army, Harry couldn't help but shudder at the thought of what might have happened to him.

The rest of the day involved Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny making visits to Mr. Weasley as he lay in St. Mungo's recovering from his ordeal, and Hermione taking every opportunity- available or not- to query Ron as to what he was going to do about Percy.

"So, are you going to talk to him?" Hermione asked, as Ron paced the waiting room for the seventy-sixth time.

"No, I am not, and stop asking me!" he retorted, angrily. Hermione merely tutted, and walked towards a large painting on the wall of the waiting room. It consisted of a variety of beverages floating on a background of a night sky.

"You can't just leave it like this," she replied, as she pressed a silver sickle against a picture of a Butterbeer on the wall. The sickle melted away, and in its place appeared a cold bottle of Butterbeer, which hovered in the air until Hermione grabbed it and went to sit down again.

"Any news from Persephone?" Ginny asked. Harry shook his head.

"Not yet," he replied, whilst Hermione opened her bottle of Butterbeer and began to pass it around the four of them. Ginny took a small swig, and then passed the bottle onto Ron, who shook his head.

"No thanks, Hermione," he said, before suddenly frowning at her. Harry looked across at Hermione, and saw that she was fiddling with some kind of object, staring at it intently.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked, peering over Hermione's shoulder as he did so. She pointed her wand at the object in her hand, and appeared to be concentrating hard.

"I've been modifying Harry's mirror," she said. Ron stared at her for a moment, before glancing up at Harry.

"Your mirror?" he asked, clearly bewildered as to what Hermione was on about. It took Harry a few moments of deep thought until he realised that Hermione had been referring to the one half of the two-way mirror Sirius had given him as a Christmas present- the last Christmas present he had ever given him, to be precise. Once he explained this to Ron, he seemed even more intent on peering over Hermione's shoulder.

"What have you done with...? Bloody hell!" he exclaimed suddenly, and Harry saw his jaw drop around half an inch. Ginny's curiosity also seemed somewhat aroused as she too began to look over Hermione's other shoulder.

"I thought it might be useful for the D.A.," Hermione explained. "I thought that if we could get each shard of the mirror to somehow interact with all the others, much like the original two-way mirrors did, then we could communicate with each other. So far, I think I've managed to charm the pieces to work, but this is my first test of spying across large distances..." She trailed off as she paid progressively more attention to the mirror.

"What did you test it on?" Harry asked. Hermione looked up for a moment.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt's coat," she said, looking into Harry's eyes. "I charmed the back of the mirror to stick to the hem. He shouldn't even notice it..."

Suddenly, Harry felt the urge to peer over Hermione's shoulder too, so he got up from where he had been sitting and joined Ron and Ginny in watching the scene unfolding in the small chunk of mirror. Wherever Kingsley was, it looked very dank and depressing to Harry- the stone floors looked slightly wet, and mildew appeared to be gathering in the vertices where the floor and the wall met. He caught a glimpse, swift but clear, of a dead Security Troll, slumped against the wall. A heavy iron door stood hanging open near by. Kingsley must have changed direction as he stepped through this door, for Harry could see along another long corridor, equally damp and dingy, but with rows of heavy iron doors with small slats at the top allowing what meagre light was present in the corridor to filter through. With a sudden jolt of his nerves, Harry realised that Kingsley was in Azkaban prison.

"Well, what's the damage on this side of the United Kingdom?" Kingsley asked, in his deep voice. Harry couldn't see whom Kingsley was talking to, but the voice in which the reply was formed sounded familiar.

"See for yourself," Moody's growling voice remarked harshly, as he kicked open one of the cell doors. It swung open, and Kingsley peered into it, at least enough for the mirror he was unwittingly carrying to reflect the empty cell room into the face of the mirror Harry was watching.

"The wards have been well and truly breached- we're going to need some serious Curse bonding to make this place secure again. The prisoners have all got out," Moody explained, gruffly. "All of them except for a small handful."

"What's happened to the small handful?" Kingsley asked. Moody made an odd grunting sound before continuing.

"They're all dead," he replied. "Including Ameline Snape." He whistled in a low pitched tone for a brief moment. "I think it's pretty safe to say that this current alliance with the Snape tribe is well and truly done for. Not that I think we're losing out, mind. Still," he sighed, "she was only young, and I can't exactly blame her for wanting to do something about the Malfoys- if it is true they had a hand in her daughter's death. It's what any of us would have done, or at least wanted to do."

"Mudungus is keeping his ear to the ground," Kingsley added, after a short, respectful silence. "He's going to keep us informed of any strange happenings. Meanwhile, we've just got to wait. There's been no news of Augustine, Emmeline, or Tonks..."

"You mean, you haven't heard?" Moody asked, his tone of voice sounding a little perturbed. Kingsley's entire body tensed momentarily.

"Heard what?" he asked, his voice crackling with apprehension. Through the mirror, Harry saw Moody place a comforting hand on Kingsley's shoulders, and he dreaded to think what occasion demanded such a demonstrative approach from the retired Auror.

"Nymphadora... she was found in the Law Enforcement Department," he explained. "That area seemed to have been hit the worst- makes sense, really- it was nearest to the wards Voldemort had breached... I'm afraid she didn't make it. Put up a damn good fight, mind, but there were just too many of them..." He trailed off, and continued to pat Kingsley on the back.

"I... I know it's a dangerous job we do, but... Well, I suppose you just don't think about that side of things, do you?" Kingsley added, before coughing away a quivering voice. "She was so young," he added. "I should have done more to prepare..."

"Nobody can prepare someone against something so depraved," Moody interrupted, sagely.

"Alex seems to do a good job," Kingsley pointed out. "Persephone faced Voldemort himself and survived."

Moody sighed.

"You can't compare the Brethren to the Aurors," he replied. "They just aren't like us. They aren't trained to protect and serve the wizarding population; they're trained to kill, torture and cheat their way through assignments- the end justifies the means, and all. Now, I'm not necessarily condemning their attitude- it's dirty, but it works. However, the day Aurors start behaving like the Brethren will be a sad one in my books. As for Persephone, she said it herself. She only survived because Voldemort needed her to get to Snape. If he had killed her, his plan would never have worked. Given the situation she was in, she merely saw an opportunity and took it. That's the Snapes all over." The caustic manner in which Moody spat out his last remark suggested to Harry that he wasn't entirely convinced of Snape's true intentions as an Order member.

"They were good friends," Kingsley commented. "I mean, Persephone and Tonks. They were quite close."

"I wonder who is going to have to break the news to her. She's still convalescing in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts, isn't she?" Moody asked. Kingsley laughed, although it was a hollow laugh that lacked any real mirth.

"I don't think so," he replied. "I saw her hobbling around the Ministry trying to get people to St. Mungo's just an hour or so ago..."

Harry looked around at Ron, Hermione and Ginny, and saw that they all shared the same expression; one of having been simultaneously kicked in the stomach and punched in the face. It was exactly how he felt. Tonks has been killed? It seemed both preposterous and harrowing- she was, or had been, so young. Harry counted on his fingers the age difference between himself and the pink-haired Auror, and calculated it to be around six years. His stomach lurched uncomfortably when it dawned on him that she was exactly the same age as Persephone.

"So, I take it you've heard the news?" a familiar voice called. Harry whirled around, and saw an especially pale looking Persephone staring back at him. She tapped her cane against the floor in what appeared to be a kind of displacement activity.

"It should have been me, really," she said, inexplicably.

"Whatever do you mean?" Hermione asked, her eyes brimming with tears. "You can't think like that; it's terrible enough that Tonks..."

"Tonks visited the Ministry on my behalf- she was doing me a favour," Persephone replied wearily. She sank into a nearby seat, and looked very glum indeed. Harry knew why- over the past year, the pair seemed to have become rather good friends. Seeing as Persephone had already lost her aunt, along with most of her tribe, losing yet another person close to her must weigh even more heavily on her shoulders.

"I've been talking to Hestia," she explained. "She's really cut up about it. I think she's the one that's got to tell Tonks' parents', too..." She trailed off, apparently unwilling to speak for a moment longer. Hermione got up and patted her tenderly on the arm.

"I'm so sorry, Persephone," she said. "Especially after what happened to Ameline as well..."

Persephone looked up at Hermione, her face awash with confusion.

"Ameline?" she asked. Hermione turned crimson with embarrassment and horror- at least, Harry assumed that was why her skin had flushed so profusely. He was experiencing similar emotions, knowing something so awful that Persephone didn't, yet now knew that they alone had to break the news to her.

"She was killed in the Azkaban breakout," Hermione explained, almost tearfully. "We don't know exactly how, but..."

"And then there were three," Persephone added, sighing heavily. "Or five, I suppose, if you count the twins."

"Persephone..." Harry trailed off, feeling increasingly uncomfortable as he realised he didn't have a clue as to what he could say to make her feel better. It didn't matter much, for Persephone merely took his hand in her own and squeezed it tightly.

"It could have been worse, guys," she said, an odd smile fixed on her face. "It could have been so much worse."

Suddenly, she stood up, and brushed down her robes with her right hand, and wiped at her face with her left.

"Stupid things," she muttered, before looking up again.

"Are you going already?" Hermione asked. Persephone nodded, looking up at the ceiling momentarily.

"I'd better," she replied, looking down at Hermione. "I ought to find Ar... Frederick, see if I can't smooth things over a bit. He isn't exactly going to be pleased at this news- one of us needs to be there for him."

"What about Snape?" Ron asked. Persephone raised an eyebrow at him.

"Professor Snape, Ron..." She laughed. "Listen to me- I've been hanging around Remus for too long... Erm, Severus has got other things on his plate today," she replied, somewhat evasively.

"Like what?" Harry asked.

"Like never you mind," Persephone retorted, in a jocular manner that didn't match her mortified countenance. "I'll see you guys later- I take it you're coming back to Hogwarts this evening?"

"Yeah," Ginny replied. "Mum doesn't want us spending too much time here. She says her and Dad want us to concentrate on our schoolwork, but I can't see that happening, given the situation."

Persephone smiled sympathetically.

"You'd be wise to heed your parents' advice, Ginny," she said. "No matter how tough things get, the world can't stand still for it. Keeping busy will help take your mind off it all... Anyway, I'll see you all later," she said, before exiting the waiting room.

Harry's knee-jerk reaction was to run after her, but he thought better of it, especially when he saw Ron, Hermione and Ginny's facial expressions.

"Best leave her to it, Harry," Ron said gently. "She's got a lot to sort out at the moment."

Hermione nodded in agreement.

"You can talk to her when we're back at Hogwarts," she added. "She'll be more receptive to taking over things once she's sorted out everything with Frederick..."

"I wonder why Snape can't do it?" Ron wondered aloud. "Why is he so busy?"

Ginny shrugged.

"I don't know," she replied. "I mean, he's right here at St. Mungo's, anyway..." She trailed off as Ron glared at her.

"He's here? How do you know?" he asked, incredulously.

"I saw him and Alex walking along one of the corridors, after I left Mum, Dad and Percy; that's how I know," she retorted.

"I wonder what they're doing here?" Hermione mused. "I mean, I know Alex would have business with the Ministry, considering what's happened, but surely Snape should be keeping out of the way... Unless it's not a business matter..." She trailed off, and bit her knuckle as she thought. Ron stared at her until she showed absolutely no signs of explaining herself further.

"Fine, don't elaborate, then," he sighed, mostly to himself. Harry didn't know what to think either; today had been so terrible, and adding the possibility of Snape being up to something on top of it all didn't exactly fill Harry's heart with joy.

That evening, after Mr. Weasley had been treated and ordered to take a fortnight of bed rest by the head healer of ward number 4, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny Flooed back to Hogwarts- Ginny with her Trunk full of belongings and her face covered with lots of sloppy kisses from Mrs. Weasley- and sat in the Common Room, trying to make sense of the days events.

"I can't believe all this," Ginny said mournfully. "Tonks is dead, Dad's in hospital- again, the Ministry building has been all but destroyed, and all the prisoners in Azkaban have escaped! Can things get any worse?" she asked. Hermione leant forward and picked up a copy of the Daily Prophet that somebody had left on a nearby table. She frowned momentarily, before lifting it up for everyone to see.

"Don't speak too soon, Ginny," she said, as Harry read the headline, which screamed, 'Ministry Destroyed- How Long Until Wizarding Britain Falls into You-Know-Who's Clutches?'

"It seems to be telling the same old story- Dumbledore's gone almost six months, more attacks, we're all doomed- the usual optimism," Hermione added, before slumping back into her chair. Ron patted her knee.

"This won't be the end," he soothed. "It just can't be..." He faltered for a moment, before adding, "Can it?"

"Does anyone know how Lupin is doing?" Hermione asked. "I keep seeing Faith running about with various goblets, but I don't know whether she's been successful..."

"What, Faith's been allowed out on her own?" Ron asked, incredulously. "That can't be good- she's bonkers!"

"Maybe she's okay because it's been school break?" Ginny suggested. "I mean, there aren't really many people around, are there?"

"That's true," Hermione replied. "Snape and she must be getting somewhere with Lupin..."

"Can we not talk about Snape, please?" Ron asked, somewhat tetchily. Hermione flushed momentarily.

"You aren't still bothered about... you know, that, are you?" she asked timidly. Ron shrugged.

"No!" He inspected his shoelaces for a moment, before looking up at Hermione. "Well, kind of, I suppose," he admitted.

"I wonder how Persephone is getting on with Frederick?" Ginny mused, apparently uninterested in Ron and Hermione's personal issues. "Didn't she say she needed to smooth things over with him, concerning the Order?"

Hermione nodded.

"Yes, she did. I'm guessing that Frederick will no longer want the assistance of the Order, seeing as they are closely linked with the Ministry- especially seeing as your dad is the Minister for Magic. They put Ameline in Azkaban, remember? I know she broke the law, but the thing is, if she hadn't been in Azkaban, she'd still be alive. I would imagine that Persephone will have a lot of persuading to do to stop him from leaving the area, where he'll stand a far greater chance of being killed."

"Yeah," Ron replied, before snapping his fingers suddenly. "Here, you don't suppose he might actually be useful to the Order, do you? They do seem to have some weird knowledge, after all- and especially if he knows something about that old book that you've been reading."

"Well, if he does, Persephone would really want to try and persuade him to continue sticking on our side," Hermione mused. "I don't think she's really worked out what significance it holds for Voldemort."

Harry found himself staring out of the window instead of meeting the gazes of his friends straight on. This sudden attack on the Ministry shunted all of Harry's worst fears concerning Voldemort- and what might happen when he is forced to face him for the fifth time- right back up into the most lucid part of his brain. Even Steve appeared to have bolted.

"You're on your own, mate," he muttered apathetically. Harry ignored him. Instead, he felt the need to stand up.

"I just wish none of this had happened!" he ranted, as he paced the Common Room with fervour. "I wish I'd have done something sooner- like at the Triwizard tournament. If I hadn't touched that cup, if I hadn't told Cedric he deserved it- because let's face it, he certainly didn't deserve what happened to him!"

"Harry, calm down," Hermione soothed, but Harry was in no mood to listen.

"If I'd have acted differently, we wouldn't all be in this mess now... In fact, why did it all have to be down to me anyway?" he asked agitatedly, though not requiring a response.

"Harry," Hermione said, but Harry ignored her again.

"It was all because of this stupid prophecy!"

"Harry," Hermione pleaded.

"Why me? It said, 'Born as the Seventh month dies', 'Parents thrice defied the Dark Lord'..."

"Harry," Hermione pleaded once more, in more warning tones than before, but Harry merely waved his hand, as though physically pushing her words away from his ears.

"It was me or Neville, and Voldemort decided, in his infinite wisdom, to pick me! Why me?"

"Harry," Hermione began, but once again, Harry interrupted.

"Why not Neville? Why couldn't he be the one dealing with all this instead of me? Why couldn't he be the one with 'The power to vanquish the Dark Lord', the one whom, 'Either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live whilst the other survives', why was it..."

"Harry!" Hermione yelled, and this time, it was enough to jolt Harry out of his fury.

"Alright, I'm sorry," he said, turning around, "I didn't mean to fly off the..."

Whatever it was that Harry was about to say to Hermione died in his throat, as he found himself face to face with a pale, trembling Neville, who was glaring at Harry as though he had just escaped from a lunatic asylum and stapled his pet goldfish to a nearby wall.

"I don't suppose," he enquired quietly, in a voice far too calm to be sane, "that any of you would care to explain to me what in Merlin's name is going on!"