In which Tonks’ attempt at cunning backfires.

I still feel the same

though everything has changed

the pain it cost now I feel lost inside of my own name

but I keep running

I am running

I keep living for the day that I'm with you

that I'm with you

the past has left its stain

now I feel the shame

I'll seize the day if you take away the chains of yesterday

but I keep running

I am running

I keep living for the day that I'm with you

-- Out of Breath from the album Stanley Climbfall by Lifehouse

He couldn’t take it anymore.

Harry woke early the next morning due to the fact that he had gone to sleep so early the night before. He lay in his bed for quite some time, considering the day ahead of him. Many of these thoughts involved how he was going to explain his behavior the day before to his friends, and how he was going to avoid Dumbledore when he inevitably came to Grimmauld Place to interrogate him.

Finally he began to get claustrophobic, realizing that he would be trapped in Sirius’ old house for more than three weeks without any true possibility of going off to be alone. Unless he could “accidentally” cast another wandless locking charm on his door, even his room wouldn’t be a refuge. This clinched the decision for him—he was getting out of there, and once he had gotten far enough away to be sure he was unobserved, he would use his newly discovered abilities as a metamorphmagus to make himself unrecognizable.

He packed a small bag full of important items, including two changes of clothes and some toiletries, along with all of the wizarding money that he had left over from previous withdrawals from Gringotts. He considered it a possibility that he might be willing to return within a few days, but he wanted to be prepared in case he didn’t. He wished that he had his Firebolt back from the school, but then realized that he couldn’t use his invisibility cloak on his broom, and he couldn’t use magic to cast a Disillusionment Charm even if he wanted to.

Checking to make sure that his wand was safely in his back pocket, he swept his invisibility cloak over his head and with a look in the full-length mirror confirmed that he was completely hidden beneath it. After his recent growth spurt he had to stoop over quite a bit to achieve this result. He was tempted to shrink himself a bit to ease the strain on his back, but decided that just in case he got caught, it was a better idea to get himself away from Grimmauld Place before morphing at all. As hard as it was to explain away having grown 6 inches or more in a matter of weeks, it would be much harder to explain having shrunk 6 inches overnight.

He slipped out of his room and closed the door behind him. No use advertising that he was out of his room; it would be better if no one started looking for him just yet. With any luck they would decide that he was exhausted from the events of yesterday and sleeping in like a normal teenager, and not check in on him until mid-morning or later.

He made it all the way down the stairs and out the door before he began to get a strange tingling sensation, which he interpreted as someone watching him. But unless it was Mad-Eye, that was impossible, because his invisibility cloak was still wrapped tightly around him. He shook the feeling off and took several steps forward.

He heard the whisper from his right but didn’t realize its import in time to take a firmer grip on his invisibility cloak before it slipped out of his grasp. Someone had performed a summoning charm. Not willing to give up his escape plans just yet, he took off in a sprint, running away from Grimmauld Place. He dodged instinctively and managed to avoid all three shots of what he irrationally assumed to be a stunning curse.

Unfortunately, though, he had no way of dodging out of the way in time when his pursuer apparated directly in front of him. Both of them went crashing to the ground as he ran right into the person. Before he could even identify his jailer, he was trapped in a Full-Body Bind. After that, he was levitated into the house, where his body was leaned up against the wall in an uncomfortably unstable position. Finally he got a glimpse of the witch that had caught him.

It was no less than Nymphadora Tonks, and Harry had never seen her so furious. “You idiot! Do you have any idea how lucky you are??” she hissed at him. Harry knew that he would have crossed his arms defensively and looked away at this point if he could, but instead he was trapped staring directly at her, unable to even blink. “What if I had been a Death Eater? And where did you think you were going? Here we are all working to make wherever you are staying safe, and all you do is go out and try to get yourself killed! I’m beginning to believe Snape has it right when he says you are too arrogant to care if you inconvenience us by almost getting yourself killed just so that you can have some fun!!”

She seemed to finally get herself nominally under control, and she collapsed to the couch with a huff, just watching Harry’s frozen form. When she finally spoke, her manner and tone were much more relaxed, though there was no doubt in Harry’s mind that she was still furious. “Actually, you’re incredibly fortunate that I was the one who caught you pulling this stunt. Professor Dumbledore suspected that you might pull a stunt like this and we have the discretion to ‘take care of you’ however we see fit. So what shall I do?” She paused, tapping her index finger thoughtfully against her chin. “I could lock you in your room…”

Harry’s spirits brightened slightly at that possibility. He would be furious that he was trapped in his room against his will, but at least it would serve the purpose of letting him have some time to himself without everyone else trying to meddle and ‘help.’ But Tonks continued, “No, we’ve all noticed how you’re trying to avoid everyone. I’m not certain that giving you time to yourself is going to teach you any lesson.” She sighed. “I’m sure Molly Weasley could find you plenty of degrading chores to do…”

Even if Harry wasn’t frozen, he wouldn’t have bothered to point out that nothing that they could give him would be worse than the Dursleys. “I could make you help Snape with his potions making for the Order, but I’m afraid he would find that as much a punishment as you would…” Suddenly a feral grin covered her face. “I’ve got it..!” she whispered excitedly, and to Harry it sounded as though she had just thought up a particularly malicious prank. He guessed from this impression that he should be afraid, and in retrospect this was absolutely correct.

For a moment she was silent, screwing up her face in concentration just as she did right before she morphed. Then, however, she began uttering a steady string of Latin, too fast for Harry to catch any of it, but he did make out the very last words, “Harry Potter, Molly Weasley.” Immediately after she said this, Harry felt a splitting headache coming on rapidly. He noticed blearily through the pain that she had released him from the Full-Body Bind, just to grab his wrist and drag him toward the kitchen. He wasn’t putting up much of a fight, as he was split between the horrible headache and his thoughts about what Tonks might have done to him.

The moment he entered the kitchen and saw Mrs. Weasley helping Dobby with breakfast, though, the headache spontaneously disappeared. It didn’t ebb away slowly as Harry’s headaches usually did; instead, it was merely there one second and gone the next.

“Molly! Harry’s up early and he wants to help you with breakfast!” Tonks greeted the woman cheerfully. Mrs. Weasley herself smiled in greeting, then looked a bit surprised at Tonks’ announcement.

“Good morning to both of you!” She focused in on Harry, who was standing at the doorway of the kitchen, wondering uneasily what Tonks was up to. “Well, that’s very nice of you, Harry, but I think Dobby and I have everything taken care of. If you’ll just sit down, though, I’ll have a nice large breakfast ready for you in just a moment.” She smiled warmly at him, then turned back to the stove to supervise the eggs, which were scrambling themselves.

Seeing his opening, Harry dragged Tonks into the hallway just outside of the kitchen. He might have taken her further, but the moment he turned his back on Mrs. Weasley the blinding headache exploded in his head once again. He turned around, and immediately the headache subsided again. Having put together the facts at least partially, he made sure that he kept Mrs. Weasley in view while he carried on the conversation with Tonks.

“What did you do to me??”

Tonks smirked. “Well, now, I can’t exactly tell you that, since that is a ministry-controlled spell. Only aurors and hit wizards are allowed to know the details.” She paused to allow Harry’s frustration to well up in him a bit, then continued, “I can give you a hint, though. I wouldn’t let yourself stray too far from Molly today, and I recommend you behave yourself because I’m the only one who can cancel the spell.”

“What?!” He had spoken a bit too loudly and both Mrs. Weasley and Dobby turned to see what was going on. He smiled half-heartedly until they turned back to their work, then looked back to Tonks, keeping Mrs. Weasley in his peripheral vision. “You can’t do this to me!” When Tonks just smiled knowingly, he conceded, “Okay, fine, you can do this to me. But aren’t you going to at least tell her what’s going on??”

“Do you really want me to tell her what you did this morning?”

Harry was furious, but he couldn’t find a way out of this. He tried the first feeble response that came to mind. “You don’t think she really wants me hanging around all day, do you?” He refused to consider that Tonks might continue this for more than one day.

Tonks’ smile only widened. “She wants to get to know you better, Harry, she’ll be so happy to have you willing to hang around and talk instead of disappearing again!”

Harry growled lowly, casting around desperately for some escape, but coming up completely empty. Tonks then pretended to be surprised. “Whoops, time for work! I’ll see you this evening, Harry… and don’t forget to behave yourself!” She winked at him, then turned to the kitchen. “Sorry, Molly, but I can’t stick around for breakfast, the Ministry calls!”

“Oh,” Mrs. Weasley seemed slightly disappointed but nodded in understanding. “Have a nice day, then, dear!” After that, Tonks headed up the stairs to go out the same door that Harry had tried to escape from earlier. Not for the first time did Harry wish he could apparate, not that he would be able to take advantage of it now. With a sigh, he returned to the kitchen, seeing no point in remaining just outside the door.

“Come sit down, Harry, don’t be shy!” Mrs. Weasley exhorted. Harry braced himself for a long day as he took the seat she indicated. “What were you and Tonks talking about, Harry dear?”

“Nothing much,” Harry mumbled under his breath. He couldn’t believe how Tonks had trapped him. How on earth was he going to stay within sight of Mrs. Weasley all day, and without admitting why he had to? Everyone was going to be after him by the end of the day!

He was absolutely correct. When his friends came down for breakfast, they were surprised to find Harry still there, staring out the window but not eating anything. They immediately began questioning him about why he wasn’t already in the library, and he gave non-committal answers about his not being in the mood to study. They then began interrogating him about what had happened the day before, and Harry told them that he had gotten very angry at something Professor Dumbledore had said (which he didn’t elaborate on) and was afraid that he might perform accidental magic on one of them. This set Hermione off on a long lecture about how irresponsible he had been to perform the locking charm, which Harry couldn’t escape because Mrs. Weasley was insisting on cleaning up the kitchen herself while Dobby took care of the laundry for the household.

He tried to explain that he hadn’t done it intentionally, but she didn’t appear to be listening. He finally got her attention by telling her what Ron’s dad had told him about wandless magic not being tracked by the Ministry. Hermione got very excited and immediately tried to drag him along with the others to the library to do research on wandless magic. He resisted, claiming that he was tired, and Ginny suggested that he go take a nap. He refused and they finally left to go to the library without him, asking him to come up later.

When he was alone in the kitchen with Mrs. Weasley, she turned away from the sink to talk to him. She thought he must be sticking around the kitchen and offering to help because he wanted to talk, and as Tonks had suggested she was ecstatic that he was considering opening up. She tried for nearly half an hour to get him to open up, but he only gave quiet, one-word answers to his questions. Finally, she set out to do some more work around the house. Harry resisted following for all of three minutes before the headache was just too much and he trailed stupidly after her.

It was clear that Mrs. Weasley only felt that her ideas about his wanting to open up were validated by the fact that he seemed to be staying close to her. Failing to get him to open up, she began giving him little chores to help with, and they worked silently side by side, Mrs. Weasley obviously waiting for him to begin speaking of his own accord. He remained stubbornly silent, working quietly and efficiently like the Dursleys had taught him, and she praised him profusely for his hard work.

Nonetheless, he could see that she was getting frustrated as time wore into the afternoon and he still hadn’t opened up. Finally, she spoke up. “There’s no reason for you to spend all this time helping me do chores, dear. Why don’t you go have fun with Ron, Ginny, and Hermione?”

He shrugged and muttered something along the lines of, “I don’t feel like it.”

“Is something wrong, Harry dear?”

He shook his head, probably too quickly. She sighed. “Well, I’m going to take a nap, since I was up so early this morning. Try to have some fun, won’t you? You’re on holiday.”

Harry hoped desperately that his horror didn’t show on his face as she said that. He must have covered fairly well because she didn’t question him. He tried to be unobtrusively follow her to her room, but as soon as the door closed behind her the headache was back. He fought desperately to keep from screaming, or banging on her door and begging her to come out at the expense of confessing every one of his inner secrets, not the least of which was his foolhardy attempt at escape this morning.

Ginny stumbled across him (almost literally) nearly an hour later, head in his hands sitting on the floor against the wall to her mother’s room. Without a word she sat down next to him, waiting for long minutes before finally speaking.

“Are you alright, Harry? You’ve been nearly obsessive about studying lately, and now all of a sudden you won’t go near the library.” He was grateful that she avoided mentioning the incident the day before.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, cursing Tonks mentally. That was most of what he had been doing for the last hour, trying not to think how much his head hurt—and it was a lot. Every five minutes he had been on the verge of giving in, but he had gritted his teeth and borne the pain instead. He would show Tonks.

Ginny was silent for a long moment, examining him. “I don’t believe you,” she said flatly. He waited for accusations or questions, but she just sat there quietly, staring at the wall across from them.

Finally Harry pulled his head from his hands and leaned back into the wall, then began to methodically smack the back of his head against the wall, over and over. It wasn’t as though it could make his head hurt any more.

Ginny, however, was horrified. “Harry!” As soon as she comprehended that he was not going to stop, she reached out and put her hand behind his head, so that he couldn’t hit his head again without crunching her hand in the process. She opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted when Mrs. Weasley burst from her room, looking around frantically.

“Was someone knocking on my door? Is something wrong?”

The splitting pain that had filled Harry’s head vanished in an instant, leaving behind only a dull throbbing in the back of his head from his self-violence. When he heard Mrs. Weasley’s question, he laughed in what even he realized was a slightly hysterical manner, his mood lifting strangely as the pain receded. This brought the woman running, and she immediately knelt down next to him and Ginny. “What’s wrong??” When Harry continued to laugh lightly, she looked to Ginny, who still looked horrified.

“That was his head, Mum! He was smacking his head against the wall! I was just walking down the hall and he was sitting here in the dark and he wouldn’t tell me what was going on and then he started hitting his head on the wall and wouldn’t stop until I made him!” She sounded slightly hysterical herself, which just made Harry laugh harder.

“Oh, dear…” Mrs. Weasley whispered as Harry didn’t make any attempt to stop laughing or to explain what was going on. He wasn’t in the mood for talking; he was still considering the irony of having his headache relieved by hurting his head more. She slipped her arm under his to encourage him to stand to his feet, and her surprise was evident when she realized how light he was. Her face darkened and she muttered, “Didn’t those horrid muggles feed you anything?”

Harry chuckled, but knew better than to respond. He didn’t think he had ever felt this disconnected, except perhaps after having been given that potion on his first night at Grimmauld Place. As he allowed Mrs. Weasley to drag him to his room, he pondered the possibility that he had finally cracked, and was going insane. Was this what it was like to be insane?

By the time they had reached his room, Harry felt much more under control, and was beginning to feel quite embarrassed about his behavior. How was he going to explain hitting his head against the wall and then laughing hysterically to both Mrs. Weasley and Ginny? Mrs. Weasley guided him by his elbow into the room and then indicated for him to sit down, and she took a seat on his bed as well. Ginny followed them into the room but hovered by the door. Harry didn’t examine her expression carefully because he was too busy making sure to keep Mrs. Weasley in his line of sight.

“Now, what is this all about, Harry?” asked Mrs. Weasley, her tone gentle but firm.

Harry remained silent, not having thought of any excuse that would sound even vaguely plausible, aside from the truth, which he stubbornly avoided even considering. Finally, Mrs. Weasley sighed. “Why don’t you rest in here a bit, dear? I’m just going to go give Poppy a call through the floo so that she can check and make sure you didn’t do any damage to your head.”

“No!” Harry was so panicked in the first instant that he didn’t even register her reason for leaving the room; he only knew that he wasn’t letting her get out of his sight again. He stood to follow her, then the rest of her sentence registered. “I don’t need Madam Pomfrey, I’m fine!” he insisted doggedly.

Mrs. Weasley sat back down on the bed, her expression stern. “Harry James Potter, you are either going to tell me exactly what is going on, or I am going to call Madam Pomfrey right now!”

Harry thought he caught a wince on Ginny’s face out of the corner of his eye, but he was busy being surprised at having been called by his full name. His aunt didn’t make a habit of doing that even when she was angry at him, having such a grudge against his “good-for-nothing” father. He opened and closed his mouth silently several times, imagining that he looked quite a bit like a fish out of water. Finally, he said, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, exactly…” That at least was true. Mrs. Weasley nodded encouragingly but he couldn’t think of anything more to say. He glanced toward Ginny, and the woman across from him didn’t miss the gesture.

“Ginny, can you give us a little privacy?” Harry once again saw the diminutive redhead’s movements only out of the corner of his eye, and hoped that she didn’t think he was ignoring her. He felt a sudden urge to begin smacking his head against something once again when he realized how long it was going to take to try to explain everything that had happened in this one day, especially if he didn’t admit about his attempt at running away that morning. He was snapped out of his thoughts by the soft click of the door behind Ginny. “Now, why don’t you tell me what’s going on and we can try to figure out what’s wrong?”

“I have a headache…” Harry responded weakly.

Mrs. Weasley nodded. “Well no wonder, after all that banging you were doing!” Her voice softened. “Why did you want to hurt yourself, Harry?”

“I already had a headache!” Harry protested. “It didn’t make any difference anyway…” He trailed off.

“If you had such a bad headache, why didn’t you tell me or someone else? We have potions for headaches!” She stood as if to get one herself, and Harry cried out instinctively.

“No!” She looked back at him, her eyes questioning, and he added lamely, “I don’t like potions.”

“Don’t be silly, Harry… I know they don’t taste very good, but you’ll feel so much better afterward!”

“I don’t have a headache anymore,” he answered. He stood up. “In fact, I’m fine.”

“Sit down.” He obeyed automatically. She narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t know why you’re lying to me, but I know that something’s wrong, and obviously you aren’t going to tell me. You wait right here while I call Poppy—no more stalling!” she finished when he opened his mouth to protest again. He watched her as she walked out the door, then began to swear at Tonks when the headache returned to full force, jumping up from the bed rushing after Mrs. Weasley, once again not caring what she thought of him.

He only caught a glimpse of Mrs. Weasley as she rounded another corner toward the fireplace, which gave him a brief burst of relief before the headache returned. He was so focused on catching up to her that he was startled when Ginny’s voice spoke from behind him. “What does Tonks have to do with anything?” she asked suspiciously.

The pounding pain was too distracting for him to think of a good explanation. He broke into a run, trying to escape both the persistent redhead and his mind-splitting headache. Finally he collapsed into the living room, falling to his knees in relief as he caught sight of Mrs. Weasley, even if she was preparing to throw floo powder into the fireplace.

“Wait, Mum!” Ginny called out from behind him as the powder was about to leave her mother’s hands. “He said something… He mentioned Tonks…”

Mrs. Weasley halted in mid-motion and turned to Ginny, seeing Harry in the process. “What are you doing out of your room? I thought I told you to wait there!” Then she looked thoughtful as she looked to Ginny. “You say he mentioned Tonks?” Ginny must have nodded, and Mrs. Weasley turned to the fireplace. “Nymphadora Tonks,” she called out, sticking her head in the fireplace. Harry wearily listened to the only side of the conversation he could hear. “Tonks, dear, Harry is acting very oddly. Would you by any chance have a minutes—“ She paused, then pulled her head from the fireplace. A moment later it flared and Tonks appeared.

The auror’s eyes immediately found Harry, kneeling on the ground. She moved toward him but was obviously not expecting him to launch himself at her, calling her names that caused Mrs. Weasley to protest angrily and threaten to magically clean out his mouth, all the while working to separate the two of them. Harry got one good punch to Tonks’ face before he was put in a Full Body Bind for the second time that day.

From his position on the floor Harry only caught a glimpse of the swelling beginning around Tonks’ eye before Mrs. Weasley performed a quick charm and all signs of violence disappeared. Tonks then turned to Harry and partially released the Body Bind, enough so that Harry could speak and move his arms, but his back was still ramrod straight and his legs were immobile. “What on earth were you doing attacking me?” He formed his mouth into a thin line like he had seen Professor McGonagall do on so many occasions, and refused to speak. Tonks tried a different tack. “Did you have a nice day?”

Harry called her a name that made all three women furious. Tonks glared at Harry for another moment, then turned to Mrs. Weasley. “What happened?”

“He’s been acting strangely all day, ever since this morning when you two came to the kitchen. He followed me around all day… I thought he wanted to talk, but he never did. Finally I went to take a nap, and hour later I woke up to someone banging on my wall. Ginny had found him in the hallway outside our room and he had started slamming his head against the wall. I came out to see what was going on and he started laughing hysterically, and then all he would tell me was that he had already had a headache when he started hitting his head, but he wouldn’t take a potion for his headache.” Mrs. Weasley finally paused from her rapid storytelling as she recognized the look of understanding on Tonks’ face.

Tonks began by turning to Harry and rattling off a string of Latin that sounded similar to what she had said that morning, without the names. Then she glared down at Harry. “You stubborn fool, you were supposed to talk to her, not suffer in silence!”

Harry didn’t say a word, just glared back, still furious with her. Finally, she turned to Mrs. Weasley. “I Tied him to you, Molly… line-of-sight.” She paused as the look of understanding crossed the older witch’s face. “He tried to run away this morning. This served the dual purpose of making sure he didn’t disappear and punishing him by not allowing him to run off on his own… not to mention I assumed he would actually be forced to talk to you, rather than suffering in silence like the stupid mule that he is.” She turned her glare on Harry once again.

Mrs. Weasley sighed. “Couldn’t you have told me, at least? I was taking a nap for almost an hour… it’s no wonder he was hysterical when I finally came out!”

Tonks shook her head in apparent disbelief. “Like I said, I assumed he would tell you what was going on instead of letting himself suffer.”

All this talk of him as if he weren’t there was making Harry furious; he could feel his fists clenching so tightly that his nails were nearly piercing his skin. Finally, he could take it no longer. “You think you know everything!” he nearly screamed. “You think you know who I am, and who I should be, and that you can make me into whatever you want! You think you can make me your perfect puppet, your perfect weapon! You don’t know anything, none of you do—I hate you, I hate you all!” By the time he had finished his anger was expended and he felt empty. All he wanted was to run away, but he couldn’t go anywhere while he was still in a Body Bind. “Just let me go, let me go!” He tried to put the same amount of anger into his words, to at least fake it, but his words sounded as empty as he felt.

“Finite Incantatem,” said Tonks softly, and Harry felt his body relax completely under his own control. He wanted to run more than anything, but he knew that none of them would let him be alone, especially right now. Instead he settled for curling himself into a ball, hugging his knees to his chest in a motion that was strongly reminiscent of how he had used to sit in the cupboard under the stairs when he had been thrown in there after one of his relatives had become particularly angry at him. Just as he had done then, he completely tuned out everything that was happening around him.

He jerked away when he felt a hand touch his back. “Come on, get up now,” said a soft voice, which his distant mind didn’t take great pains to identify. He didn’t even look up as he let himself be guided back to his room once again. He sat down on his bed and stared at the floor. He only looked up when the person who had followed him into his room began to leave.

“Wait,” he whispered, but it was enough. He looked up and met Tonks’ eyes. “I can’t do it, you know,” he whispered. “You can tell Dumbledore that. I can’t do it. I can’t even—“ his voice broke, and he desperately tried not to cry. “I can’t even go on… not without—without—“ He buried his face in his hands and took a few deep, shuddering breaths. “I shouldn’t even be here. It shouldn’t have been him, it should have been me. It was my fault. I shouldn’t be here… I’ll just get everyone killed. Just like Ce-Cedric and like Si-Si-Si—“ A sob escaped him, against his best efforts. Tonks was next to him now, sitting on the bed.

“Oh, Harry, it’ll be okay. It’s not your fault, and Sirius wouldn’t want to hear you talking like this…”

Fury overtook his sadness. “Well, we’ll never know if he what he would have wanted, will we??” he bellowed. “I killed him, I killed him just like I’m going to kill all of you! Why won’t you just let me leave, it’s not too late to save yourselves!!”

He saw movement by the door and looked to see that Madam Pomfrey was standing there, tears in her eyes and container full of potions in her hands. An instant later the tears were gone and she was business-like, setting down the container and selecting a potion. She walked to the bed in order to hold a potion out to Harry.

“This is a sleeping draught, to help you get some sleep… You’ll feel much better after you get some rest, I’m certain of it.”

“I’ll never feel any better!” he bellowed, and he grabbed the potion and threw it against the wall as hard as he could, sending glass shards flying. “He’s dead, he’s not coming back, and I’ll never feel any better!” The air crackled around him, and he added more quietly but no less firmly, “Leave me alone, all of you.”

“Not until you take a sleeping potion, Mr. Potter,” responded Madam Pomfrey quietly, but with the familiar hard edge to her tone.

“Are you sure there aren’t anymore experimental potions you want to use on me?” Harry responded sarcastically.

“Mr. Potter, I am making some allowances for the fact that you are clearly exhausted and out of sorts, but I will not take any more cheek. You will take a sleeping potion right now or I will stun you and you will wake up in the hospital wing at Hogwarts.”

Harry felt a tingling feeling sweep over his skin. “Try it,” he challenged angrily. “I’ve already been put in a Body Bind twice today, what’s a stunner on top of that?”

Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips, then lifted her wand and said, “Stupefy!”

The tingling feeling became stronger and stronger as Harry watched the bolt fly toward him, distracting him so much that he didn’t even try to dodge. When the bolt hit him, though, he just felt a cold sensation rush outward from where it hit on his chest, and then saw the red bolt hurtle back to strike Madam Pomfrey. A second later he felt a detached feeling cover him and he his eyes were already rolling up into his head before the second bolt hit him.