Saturday dawned cloudy, but pleasant, and Ron couldn't have been happier. "No sun in our eyes, not too much wind, perfect."

Hermione was walking down to the pitch with the team. "Harry, are you sure you'll be able to play?"

"Hermione! Stop discouraging him!"

"I'm not, Ron!" she cried. "I promise I'm not! I'm just worried! That fall in Specialized Defense yesterday was really bad, what if you fall off your—"

"Don't worry," Ginny insisted. "We've got it all worked out. Everyone knows to keep an eye on Harry, and if he has trouble, we'll call a time out until it passes. They don't seem to come very close together, the dizzy spells I mean."

Andrew Kirk and Lavinia Watson ran up next to them, Andrew swinging his Beater's bat and Vinny swinging her long blonde braid. "Maybe you're having a growth spurt!" Vinny suggested.

Harry grinned. "There's a nice thought! I could finally start to catch up with Ron!"

"You know, that could be it, Harry," said Hermione, finally starting to look encouraged. "The Draught of Living Death freezes the body until you're just barely alive—you wouldn't have grown at all over the summer. Maybe now your body's sort of catching up."

"Hmm. I'll ask Madam Pomfrey after the match," Harry said as they reached the locker rooms.

Hermione hugged him, then whispered in his ears. "Any dreams?"

"Just about Quidditch," Harry said proudly, and she beamed.

"In that case," Hermione let go of Harry to grab both of Ron's hands. "Kill them, Captain Weasley!"

Ron whooped, and as Harry watched with an open mouth, threw his arms around Hermione and spun her wildly around. "For you, I'll make sure the score is at least a hundred fifty to zero! Got that, Harry? Catch the Snitch in the first thirty seconds!"

Ginny giggled behind them, and Harry mock saluted. "Yes, sir, Captain, sir!"

Hermione waved vigorously at them before running toward the stadium stairs. "Look at that!" Ron cried.

"At what?" Harry asked.

"She's…excited! Excited about Quidditch! Can you believe it! She always supported us ourselves, but never really the team!" Ron was practically skipping.

Harry followed in amusement. "It's your team, Ron. That's why. It's all our team. You, me, Ginny, with Fred and George helping."

"Wow," Ron mused. "It really is our team, isn't it? My team?" Harry and Ginny grinned at each other and nodded. "In that case…get in that locker room, you lazy sloggers!" Ron shouted, and chased them to join the rest of the team.

The Gryffindors were in high spirits, and Ron gave them a pep talk worthy of Oliver Wood, to the point where Harry had a funny feeling in his stomach as the rest of the team cheered and stomped their feet. The feeling unnerved him at first, until it dawned on him: he was proud of Ron. So proud, in fact, he thought he might explode. This was a far cry from the Ron whose ears had glowed red with embarrassment and self-doubt before every game last year. This Ron looked like he had been born to be Quidditch Captain.

Prefect and Quidditch Captain…I wonder if he'll make Head Boy next year. He was sitting, grinning stupidly, when Ginny poked him. "Hey! Are you coming?"

"Wha—yeah! Sorry!" he grinned and hurried after the others. Ginny was watching him, so he explained, "I was just thinking what a good Captain he makes."

She grinned broadly. "I know. I'm so, so proud of him! Fred and George are beside themselves. I only wish Mum and Dad could have come."

Harry frowned. "They couldn't…make it to his first game?"

"They and Bill are in Romania with Charlie, on…business," she said, giving him a significant look so he knew it was Order business. "Sorry, you weren't there when we got their letter. They'll be home tomorrow, but they had to miss the game. They're coming to the Ravenclaw match."

"That one will be exciting," said Ron, dropping back to join them. "This one shouldn't be too difficult—not that that's an excuse to be lazy," he added, pointing to each of them in turn. They giggled and nodded. "Right! Here we go!"

With whoops of excitement, the Gryffindors mounted their brooms and soared out into the Quidditch stadium to the roar of the Saturday crowd. Harry saw Fred and George with Hermione and Neville. There was no less than a sign for every member of the team—probably the twins' doing:

Weasley Is Our King!

Weasley Is Our Queen!

D.A. Loves Potter!

Harry laughed out loud, then pumped his fists over his head at the Gryffindors as the team took their positions. Ginny gave him a thumbs-up, and Ron winked before shaking hands cheerfully with a rather-tense Zacharias Smith. Harry couldn't keep the grin off his face; no, this wasn't same Ron who had nearly gone to pieces before the start of season last year!

I am so, so proud of him! And it didn't even occur to Harry to be jealous.

Then the Quaffle was thrown, and they were off. Ron was right; conditions were perfect. Harry circled smoothly, keeping an eye on the Hufflepuff Seeker and smiling to himself as the commentary from Dean Thomas indicated Ron had made a major save.

Ginny had the Quaffle, and shot across the field toward the Hufflepuff scoring zone with Dennis and Katie flanking her. Harry had a hard time keeping his eyes on the pitch and off Ginny as she streaked along with Zacharias hot on her heels. She'd tangled with Tom Riddle at age eleven; she could handle Zacharias, even if he was on a Nimbus.

As the Hufflepuff Seeker threw up his hands as Ginny scored, Harry spotted a flicker of gold high up near the teachers' stands. He shot upward and heard the shouts of excitement from the crowd. "Potter must see the Snitch, either that or he's got homework to turn in—" Dean fancied himself a comedian. "Jacobs is following, putting his Comet to the test even though he's chasing a Firebolt! There they go, but—aah!"

Harry ducked instinctively as a Bludger whizzed past his head, then managed swerved to avoid the other one, nearly crashing back into Frank Jacobs, the Hufflepuff seeker. "Close calls for both Seekers, there, but they're all right!" Dean yelled.

Harry gave an apologetic wave to Jacobs, and got one in return; the Snitch had vanished anyway. He was starting to drop down again when the whole stadium tilted crazily. Oh no, not now! He grabbed his Firebolt's handle tightly as his head seemed to detach from his neck. He was so off-kilter he didn't dare raise a hand to signal. No, no, stop it! Why now? Stop! Come ON! He tried desperately to focus his eyes on something, anything to get his bearings, but he couldn't. The Snitch could have been in front of his nose, and he could not have grabbed it.

Just then, he heard Madam Hooch blow her whistle and Dean announcing a time out. Thank goodness, someone had seen. There was a whoosh up next to him, then Ron had his arm. "Harry! You okay, mate?"

"No…I'm…bloody not…" Harry grunted, too disoriented to be tactful. "Can't…bloody…see!"

The rest of the team was rising toward him. "Let's get on the ground before he falls," said Ginny's voice, but all Harry could make out was a blur of red hair over a red uniform. Too much red on this team, he thought hazily.

With Ron on one side of him and Ginny on the other, they descended. "Just need…a minute," Harry mumbled, but Ginny shushed him.

"It's all right. We're well up on them. Just concentrate on staying upright."

Frustrated and embarrassed, Harry knew she was right. He could hear the jeers of the Slytherin section and kept his eyes shut, hoping his head would sort itself out. Madam Hooch was waiting to meet them when they landed. "You don't look well, Potter. Weasley, are you pulling him?"

Harry heard Ron sigh miserably, and opened his eyes. "Ron, I—" His scar flared, making him gasp, and grab his forehead, while the others reached out to steady him as he lurched off balance. "I…oh no…something's…happening…"

A stab of incredible pain in his scar brought him to his knees, and he squinted through it, desperately turning toward the teachers' stands. "Harry, what's wrong!?" Ron cried.

Harry grabbed Madam Hooch. "Something…here…now! Tell Dumbledore—"

The thunderbolt CRACK! of the first wizard Apparating INTO the Hogwarts grounds would stay in Harry's memory for the rest of his life. Screams of absolute panic rang out from the stands around them as a black robed wizard in a white mask appeared right on the field. With another crack, there were two. Then three, then four, then…

Harry heard a curse shouted, then the arms still holding him let go, and he fell. The entire world was spinning, and he couldn't move, even as he heard screams of terror, shouts of curses, and cries of pain ringing out all around him. His scar burning this way could mean only one thing: it was happening. Voldemort was coming to Hogwarts, and Harry could not stop him. He was even more useless than he'd been when Snape had dragged him out of Voldemort's stronghold. He couldn't even throw a curse.

"Harry!" someone screamed nearby, and then a body was hovering protectively over him. Long red hair brushed his face.

"Ginny—no—"

"Shush! Expelliarmus! Stupefy! There's a dozen," she whispered, her weight holding him still as she propped herself up on one elbow to shoot hexes. "Protego! Hang on. Help's coming."

Harry couldn't have protested or tried to stop her no matter how badly he wanted to. His head still refused to stop spinning and was only getting worse. If Voldemort appeared now and aimed his wand straight at Ginny, Harry would not be able to do anything. His scar was burning, but he didn't think Voldemort was coming any closer—yet.

Feet were coming toward them at a run. "Stay there, Gin!" said Ron's voice. "Hang on, Harry. Stupefy!"

With an effort, Harry looked past Ginny's shoulder. She was still crouched over him, but there appeared to be a ring of red heads around them—either three or six, Harry couldn't be sure. They were right in the middle of the Quidditch pitch, far too exposed in this chaos. Ginny was the only one with the sense to stay low—or maybe that was just because she was shielding Harry with her body. Didn't they realize that the group of them looked like a great big target with Harry in the middle?

And then what he feared most—what he had feared most for so long—finally happened. A flash of curse light blazed over their heads, making Ginny flinch above him, then they heard a cry and a thud.

George screamed. "Fred!"

"No! Stay there! I'll get him!" Ginny shouted. She scrambled off Harry, but then there was another flash close by, and she shrieked.

"Oh God! Gin!" Real panic was in Ron's voice.

With an effort, Harry turned his head. A Gryffindor Quidditch uniform was slumped beside a green jacket on the ground nearby. "No…" he moaned.

The world was spinning so madly around him that he thought he'd vomit, but he had to get to them. He managed to roll onto his stomach, keeping his blurry vision fixed on the pile of motionless clothing only feet away, then he dragged himself over to them and draped his body across them as best he could. This can't be happening…not you too…wake up, SOMEBODY wake up!

Ginny was moaning and twitching beneath him. In Fred beside her, there was no sign of life. Harry held onto both of them and wished for it all to stop.

After an eternity, the yells and curses and crashes gave way to moans and sobs and shouts for help. Someone yanked Harry off and began pulling at the bodies under him, crying, "Fred? Fred!"

Harry lay where he was on the ground, his head still spinning so badly that he couldn't see, his heart still pounding and stomach churning in anguish, and his chest heaving with silent sobs. This couldn't be happening…it couldn't…not them...why couldn't he just die if it would protect them…

Someone was sprinting toward them. "Harry! Ron—Ginny! Oh no, oh—"

"Harry!" he heard Ron choke out. "Herm—get—Harry!"

Then Hermione was kneeling beside Harry, searching for injuries. "D-did they get you?"

"No," Harry murmured, wishing they had. "Just…dizzy."

Hermione wiped her eyes furiously, then bent over him, feeling his forehead and poking and prodding him. "No fever…but your eyes look odd." Her voice still shook, but she was obviously trying to keep calm as she pulled him into a sitting position. "It's not your fault," she whispered. "It's not your fault."

Aurors and teachers were swarming around the Weasleys. Harry turned away and shut his eyes. Hermione hugged him, repeating over and over that it wasn't his fault. But with the cries and yells and George's sobbing in his ears, Harry couldn't even start to believe her. The only relief came because when the spinning finally subsided, oblivion swiftly followed.

Harry was standing in front of a tall window in a dimly-lit room.

Voldemort was staring back at him.

"Now you and Dumbledore and your blood traitor professor know the price of interfering with me, Potter!" the Dark Lord hissed mockingly. "And your pitiful worshippers, the Weasleys, know the price of your friendship!"

Voldemort dissolved into maniacal laughter, but the strange thing was that Harry too was laughing, just as madly. Then he realized: the tall window was not a window at all.

It was a mirror.

"NOOO!" Harry flew upright, sending bedclothes in every direction, thrashing wildly. "No—you—monster—I'll kill—"

"Harry! Harry, stop!" Hands grabbed at him, trying to catch his swinging fists.

Once he fell out of bed, Harry realized he was in the hospital wing—and had narrowly avoided pummeling Hermione. He leaned against the side of the bed as he sat on the floor, gasping, "Dream—Voldemort—laughing—he said—Ginny? Fred?" He tried to scramble to his feet. "What happened, why are you—what am I—"

"Potter!" Professor McGonagall intercepted him, grabbing his shoulders. "They're alive. No one was killed."

Relief washed over him with such intensity that he swayed. Professor McGonagall and Hermione caught him, moving to guide him back to the bed, but he pulled away. "Where are they—where's Ron and George?"

"Potter! Calm down!" Professor McGonagall ordered. Harry bit his lip and tried to get himself under control. Professor McGonagall's eyes were very red, he noticed, and her face was smudged, but her voice was steady. "I will take you to them, but you must control yourself." She squeezed his shoulders gently. "I know you are very upset, but we cannot have hysterics here now."

It was only then that Harry's eyes registered the rest of the hospital wing. Every bed was occupied. Madam Pomfrey was directing an entire team of Healers, all of whom moved with an air of tightly-controlled desperation. Near the door, some students were even sitting on the floor in stunned silence, being bandaged by Professor Sprout and Remus Lupin. Remus looked up at Harry and mouthed something that Harry was too agitated to catch.

There must be fifty people in here! he thought, cold horror settling inside of him.

And Voldemort had just rubbed Harry's nose in it. I'll kill you, you bastard. I'll KILL you for this!

Hermione and Professor McGonagall were still watching him closely. Harry took a deep breath. "I'll be fine," he said in a strange voice.

Professor McGonagall nodded and led him further down the hospital wing. Harry realized with a rush of nausea that the injuries were progressively worse as they went along. A few white-faced parents were already sitting at some of the bedsides. Harry quickly looked away. The beds that Professor McGonagall brought him to were at the very end of the hospital wing, behind a screen. Harry jammed his teeth into his lower lip as they came around it.

Two Healers were hovering over one of the beds, working feverishly. In the other bed was a red-haired girl with very pasty skin who looked only half awake. In a chair between the two beds, pushed back against Ginny's by the Healers was George, looking completely unaware of anything else in the room but the silent form being labored over by the healers. Standing behind George, with his arms tightly around his older brother's shoulders, was Ron.

Ginny saw Harry first and weakly stretched out a hand toward him. "Harr…"

Harry's feet carried him forward before he knew it. Ron gasped at the sight of him and quickly pulled George out of the way so Harry could go to Ginny. He didn't even think, just grabbed her hand tightly. "Hey," he whispered.

She smiled and took a labored breath. "You…okay?"

"Yeah," he fought back a lump in his throat. "You?" What a stupid question!

But she still smiled and murmured, "Will be," and closed her eyes. Harry gave her hand a squeeze and stood up to ask Ron and George about Fred.

The minute he turned around, Ron practically fell into his arms, shaking like a leaf. Harry held on, frightened, as Ron choked out, "He might—he might not—they say—he can't—"

No. Oh no… Feeling helpless to do anything else, Harry hugged Ron, looking past him at George, who was still staring fixedly at Fred. Harry could not imagine George without Fred, and he could see that neither could George. What would it do to him if Fred…he shuddered. The thought was truly too horrible to entertain.

Just inside the screen, Professor McGonagall was watching George. Harry mouthed to her, How bad?

"We do not know yet," Professor McGonagall said softly.

Desperate for something, anything, to think about, Harry asked Ron, "Are your mum and dad on the way?"

Ron nodded, not relinquishing his grip on Harry. "Yeah, but…Romania…could be hours, maybe days!" Sitting on the edge of Ginny's bed, stroking her hair, Hermione moaned softly and reached out for Ron's hand. Ron looked desperately at Harry as though expecting him to provide answers. "I can't do it," he whispered. "I can't…" He looked from the sleeping Ginny to the ashen-faced George to Fred's bed, now surrounded by four healers. "I was never…there's always been them, or Bill, or Charlie, or Mum and Dad. I never had to take care…I need…but they're all gone…I wish…Percy…"

Harry looked over Ron's shoulder at Hermione. Her eyes widened. Professor McGonagall saw their faces and came forward. "Your family will be here very soon, Ronald. Come sit down with your brother." She gently pulled him away from Harry and pressed him into another chair.

George didn't appear to have heard a thing. Harry tried not to look at him as he knelt in front of Ron. Maybe there was something he could do after all. "Want me to owl Percy at the Ministry and ask him to come?"

Ron blinked like a confused little boy. "Yeah," he whispered. "I want Percy. He'll know what to do."

"All right. I'll be back soon," Harry promised and jumped up. Hermione followed him out.

As soon as they were outside the hospital wing, Harry broke into a dead run all the way to the Owlery. Hermione kept up and was pulling out a parchment and quill to hand to him as soon as he called Hedwig down. "Percy'll come for this," he said to her, scribbling feverishly. "He may hate me, but he loves them."

Percy,

Please come to Hogwarts. There's been an attack and Fred and Ginny are hurt. Ron's asking for you.

Hurry please.

Harry wrote EMERGENCY in big letters on the outside and gave it to Hedwig. "Take this to Percy Weasley, Undersecretary to the Minister. Peck him to pieces if he doesn't open it right away. Fast as you can."

Hedwig launched herself and soared out the window. Harry grimaced. "I didn't sign it. I probably should've sent it with another owl, maybe then he'd be less likely to throw it in the fire without opening it."

Hermione watched him pacing. "Something happened in America, didn't it?"

"Yeah. If he didn't wish me dead after that, he will after this," Harry muttered. "And I rather agree with him."

"Harry, stop!" Hermione cried. "This isn't your fault, and I'll strangle him if he says it is. Don't do this to yourself."

As hard as he could, Harry drove his fist into the wooden wall with a loud crash, sending splinters flying everywhere. Hermione yelped, owls hooted indignantly, and the blow left an impressive dent in the wall. Harry slowly withdrew his bleeding hand, and Hermione stifled a sob.

His voice ragged in his ears, Harry said, "I had a vision."

"When?!"

"When it was over," he choked out. "Voldemort was talking to me. In a mirror, laughing…" he dropped to his knees, pressing his fists into his forehead, wishing he could crush his own skull. Hermione sniffled as she knelt in front of him.

"It's—still—not—your—fault!"

He got up, brushing dirt and straw off his pants absently. "Come on. Percy'll want to know what happened, if he comes."

"He'll come," Hermione said like a prayer. "They want him. He'll come."

They were walking toward the main entrance when Snape burst into the corridor ahead of them. "Potter!"

"Professor?" Hermione exclaimed.

From the looks of him, Snape had allowed the Healers to patch up the worst of his injuries, then run out of the hospital wing. His robes were still torn and stained, his face still dirty, and a small cut on his temple still oozed blood. Harry and Hermione waited as he strode toward them. "Granger, leave us, I require a…report from Potter."

Hermione obediently started to walk on, but Harry caught her arm and pulled her into an empty classroom, jerking his head at Snape to follow. He shut the door behind them and said, "You don't have to go, Hermione."

"Excuse me, Potter?" Snape was obviously in a very foul mood.

However, so was Harry. "You want to know if I had any dreams or visions about this, am I right, sir?"

"Correct," Snape growled.

"Well, Hermione already knows about them, so there's no point sending her away now." Harry scowled, though for once it wasn't directed at Snape. "Besides, it won't protect her or anybody else." Fury coarsed through him. "Voldemort told me."

"Potter!"

"Sorry, the Dark Lord told me. After I passed out. He was standing in front of a mirror, talking to me." I'll kill him I'll kill him I'll kill him…

Snape had forgotten all about Hermione's presence. His already-pallid face was losing what color was left in it. Harry even thought he heard a tremor in the Potions Master's low voice. "What exactly did he say?"

"He said that now I and Dumbledore…and you…know the price of interfering with him. And that the…" Harry's throat closed, and he had to swallow hard, "the Weasleys knew the price of my friendship. And then he laughed."

Hermione raised a trembling hand to her mouth and sank into a desk. The Potions Master's expression changed little, but Harry could see something smoldering in his eyes that was very scary. Snape nodded slightly, his attention no longer on Harry, and steadied himself on a chair. Then his head snapped down to glare furiously at it as if it were the cause of everything, and Hermione squeaked in surprise as he seized it and hurled it across the room to shatter against the wall. Then, breathing hard, he headed for the door.

"Do not mention this vision to anyone else outside the Order, Potter. Least of all the Weasleys."

Harry swallowed thickly. "I wasn't planning on telling them."

Snape paused in the doorway to glare back at them. "Granger?"

"I won't say anything, Professor."

Snape turned away and walked stiffly out the door, looking as if he were barely restraining himself from pummeling the first person he saw. Harry took a deep breath. "For the first time in my life, I know exactly how he feels."

"A group of Slytherins were seriously hurt," said Hermione. "I saw Professor Snape trying to get to you and Ron and the others, but he stopped to try and protect some of his first years. Those Death Eaters didn't spare anyone."

"I'll bet Malfoy got through it just fine," Harry snarled.

"I don't know; I haven't been thinking about him," said Hermione with a shrug, and she stood up. "Come on. Let's go wait for Percy. Hedwig ought to be arriving at the Ministry around now." They went down to the main entrance and sat watching the Aurors running around. "Everyone wants to know how Death Eaters could apparate into the grounds. Somehow the wards failed for a moment, enough for the Death Eaters to get in, but then when the Aurors came, the Death Eaters couldn't get out again."

"So they're all caught?" Harry asked.

"A couple are dead, but the rest are caught."

"Voldemort was close; I felt him. I wonder why he didn't join the fight himself," Harry mused.

"Hmm. Be sure and report that to someone."

"Right." Sitting outside the door with the grounds so unnaturally quiet was freeing up Harry's mind too much, and it was all coming back. Lying completely helpless and useless with curses flying everywhere, and only able to shield Fred and Ginny after they'd been hit…Harry began to shiver, and Hermione put a hand on his shoulder.

"It's not your fault, Harry."

He choked out a laugh. "You keep saying that."

"Because it's true, and you ought to believe it."

Harry rested his forehead on his knees. "George wouldn't even look at me."

Hermione sniffled. "George hasn't looked at anyone since they got to the hospital wing. He's completely in shock." Her voice grew more ragged as she said, "I can't…even fathom…what it'll do to him if…"

"OY! Watch yourself there, Weasley!" yelled Mad-Eye Moody.

Harry and Hermione sprang to their feet. A figure in Ministry robes was pelting up the road from Hogsmeade, rumpled, glasses askew from having nearly plowed into two Aurors and not even slowing to right himself. His eyes suddenly met Harry's, and he sprinted even harder. Harry had never seen that look in Percy's eyes before—he also had never imagined Percy was so good a runner. He looked to have run all the way from the edge of the anti-apparation wards.

Harry braced himself for a stream of condemnations, of furious epithets, even a blow, but Percy just grabbed his shoulders, his eyes wild with naked panic.

"Where are they?!"

"Hospital wing," Harry blurted, stunned. Percy released him and bolted through the doors. Harry and Hermione ran after him.

Percy sprinted for the hospital wing as if his life depended on it, and Harry and Hermione were several strides behind him when he opened the door. He stopped then; they both knew why. The sight of the place had taken his breath away. Harry and Hermione caught up and led him to the back of the room, past all the other beds. Percy's face went paler and paler as he took in the extend of the injuries.

Behind the screen, two healers were performing some kind of slow spell on Fred. Harry hadn't been able to see him before, and the sight of that mad, obnoxious, golden-hearted Weasley twin lying so still and ashen-faced made Harry weak in the knees—to say nothing of what it did to Percy. He let out a ragged sob, and this made Ron look up. Even George turned and fixed wide, haunted eyes on his estranged brother. Then, to everyone's surprise, George made as if to get up from his chair, but his legs simply gave way, and he wound up on his knees on the floor.

Ron jumped up, but Percy got there first, kneeling and pulling George into his arms and rocking him like a little boy. George quietly began to sob. Percy held him with one arm and reached out to Ron with the other. Ron fell into the embrace with George in between them.

Harry couldn't stand it anymore. He turned and left.

Hogwarts was deathly silent. Even Peeves was subdued; Harry saw him hovering next to the entrance to the Great Hall, but he didn't seem to see Harry. It reminded Harry a little of George, and then it occurred to him that Peeves must know what had befallen his favorite students.

He finally retreated back to the empty classroom where he and Hermione had spoken with Snape earlier. He was still sitting and contemplating the chair Snape had broken when Hermione burst in, her eyes full of tears—but smiling. "There you are!" she panted.

Harry jumped up. "What? What happened?!"

"He made it! Fred! He's going to be all right!" Hermione could barely speak for sobbing. "The Healers say the worst is over!"

Harry felt a few sobs escape himself before he got a grip. "Oh…I…" he laughed, wiping his eyes. "Thank heavens. And Ginny? And how's George?"

"Ginny's going to be fine too. They'll have a long recovery, especially Fred, but it'll be total. George…well, he still doesn't speak, but he's sitting next to Fred now that the healers are done, and Percy got him to drink some water. Ron's sitting with Ginny."

Harry let out a long sigh that echoed in the empty room. "That's great. That's just…" he dropped into a chair, light-headed with relief.

Hermione was still grinning. "There's something else. Percy wants you to come back."