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Tonks was crying silently into a handkerchief: She had been close to Mad-Eye, Harry
knew, his favorite and his protégée at the Ministry of Magic. Hagrid, who had sat down
on the floor in the corner where he had most space, was dabbing at his eyes with his
tablecloth-sized handkerchief.

 Bill walked over to the sideboard and pulled out a bottle of fire-whisky and some
glasses.

 "Here," he said, and with a wave of his wand, eh sent twelve full glasses soaring
through the room to each of them, holding the thirteenth aloft. "Mad-Eye."

 "Mad-Eye," they all said, and drank.

 "Mad-Eye," echoed Hagrid, a little late, with a hiccup. The firewhisky seared
Harry's throat. It seemed to burn feeling back into him, dispelling the numbness and
sense of unreality firing him with something that was like courage.

 "So Mundungus disappeared?" said Lupin, who had drained his own glass in one.

 The atmosphere changed at once. Everybody looked tense, watching Lupin, both
wanting him to go on, it seemed to Harry, and slightly afraid of what they might hear.

 "I know what you're thinking," said Bill, "and I wondered that too, on the way
back here, because they seemed to be expecting us, didn't they? But Mundungus can't
have betrayed us. They didn't know there would be seven Harrys, that confused them the

moment we appeared, and in case you've forgotten, it was Mundungus who suggested
that little bit of skullduggery. Why wouldn't he have told them the essential point? I think
Dung panicked, it's as simple as that. He didn't want to come in the first place, but Mad-
Eye made him, and You-Know-Who went straight for them. It was enough to make
anyone panic."

 "You-Know-Who acted exactly as Mad-Eye expected him to," sniffed Tonks.
"Mad-Eye said he'd expect the real Harry to be with the toughest, most skilled Aurors. He
chased Mad-Eye first, and when Mundungus gave them away he switched to
Kingsley. . . . "

 "Yes, and zat eez all very good," snapped Fleur, "but still eet does not explain 'ow
zey know we were moving 'Arry tonight, does eet? Somebody must 'ave been careless.
Somebody let slip ze date to an outsider. It is ze only explanation for zem knowing ze
date but not ze 'ole plan."

 She glared around at them all, tear tracks still etched on her beautiful face, silently
daring any of them to contradict her. Nobody did. The only sound to break the silence
was that of Hagrid hiccupping from behind his handkerchief. Harry glanced at Hagrid,
who had just risked his own life to save Harry's – Hagrid, whom he loved, whom he
trusted, who had once been tricked into giving Voldemort crucial information in
exchange for a dragon's egg. . . .

 "No," Harry said aloud, and they all looked at him, surprised: The firewhisky
seemed to have amplified his voice. "I mean . . . if somebody made a mistake," Harry
went on, "and let something slip, I know they didn't mean to do it. It's not their fault," he
repeated, again a little louder than he would usually have spoken. "We've got to trust each
other. I trust all of you, I don't think anyone in this room would ever sell me to
Voldemort."

 More silence followed his words. They were all looking at him; Harry felt a little
hot again, and drank some more firewhisky for something to do. As he drank, he thought
of Mad-Eye. Mad-Eye had always been scathing about Dumbledore's willingness to trust
people.

 "Well said, Harry," said Fred unexpectedly.

 "Year, 'ear, 'ear," said George, with half a glance at Fred, the corner of whose
mouth twitched.

 Lupin was wearing an odd expression as he looked at Harry. It was close to
pitying.

 "You think I'm a fool?" demanded Harry.

 "No, I think you're like James," said Lupin, "who would have regarded it as the
height of dishonor to mistrust his friends."

 Harry knew what Lupin was getting at: that his father had been betrayed by his
friend Peter Pettigrew. He felt irrationally angry. He wanted to argue, but Lupin had
turned away from him, set down his glass upon a side table, and addressed Bill, "There's
work to do. I can ask Kingsley whether –"

 "No," said Bill at once, "I'll do it, I'll come."

 "Where are you going?" said Tonks and Fleur together.

 "Mad-Eye's body," said Lupin. "We need to recover it."

 "Can't it -- ?" began Mrs. Weasley with an appealing look at Bill.

 "Wait?" said Bill, "Not unless you'd rather the Death Eaters took it?"

 Nobody spoke. Lupin and Bill said good bye and left.

 The rest of them now dropped into chairs, all except for Harry, who remained
standing. The suddenness and completeness of death was with them like a presence.

 "I've got to go too," said Harry.

 Ten pairs of startled eyes looked at him.

 "Don't be silly, Harry," said Mrs. Weasley, "What are you talking about?"

 "I can't stay here."

 He rubbed his forehead; it was prickling again, he had not hurt like this for more
than a year.

 "You're all in danger while I'm here. I don't want –"

 "But don't be so silly!" said Mrs. Weasley. "The whole point of tonight was to get
you here safely, and thank goodness it worked. And Fleur's agreed to get married here
rather than in France, we've arranged everything so that we can all stay together and look
after you –"

 She did not understand; she was making him feel worse, not better.

 "If Voldemort finds out I'm here –"

 "But why should he?" asked Mrs. Weasley.

 "There are a dozen places you might be now, Harry," said Mr. Weasley. "He's got
no way of knowing which safe house you're in."

 "It's not me I'm worried for!" said Harry.

 "We know that," said Mr. Weasley quietly, but it would make our efforts tonight
seem rather pointless if you left."

 "Yer not goin' anywhere," growled Hagrid. "Blimey, Harry, after all we wen'
through ter get you here?"

 "Yeah, what about my bleeding ear?" said George, hoisting himself up on his
cushions.

 "I know that –"

 "Mad-Eye wouldn't want –"

 "I KNOW!" Harry bellowed.

 He felt beleaguered and blackmailed: Did they think he did not know what they
had done for him, didn't they understand that it was for precisely that reason that he
wanted to go now, before they had to suffer any more on his behalf? There was a long
and awkward silence in which his scar continued to prickle and throb, and which was
broken at last by Mrs. Weasley.

 "Where's Hedwig, Harry?" she said coaxingly. "We can put her up with
Pidwidgeon and give her something to eat."

 His insides clenched like a fist. He could not tell her the truth. He drank the last of
his firewhisky to avoid answering.

 "Wait till it gets out yeh did it again, Harry," said Hagrid. "Escaped him, fought
him off when he was right on top of yeh!"

 "It wasn't me," said Harry flatly. "It was my wand. My wand acted of its own
accord."

 After a few moments, Hermione said gently, "But that's impossible, Harry. You
mean that you did magic without meaning to; you reacted instinctively."

 "No," said Harry. "The bike was falling, I couldn't have told you where
Voldemort was, but my wand spun in my hand and found him and shot a spell at him, and
it wasn't even a spell I recognized. I've never made gold flames appear before."

 "Often," said Mr. Weasley, "when you're in a pressured situation you can produce
magic you never dreamed of. Small children often find, before they're trained –"

 "It wasn't like that," said Harry through gritted teeth. His scar was burning. He felt
angry and frustrated; he hated the idea that they were all imagining him to have power to
match Voldemort's.

 No one said anything. He knew that they did not believe him. Now that he came
to think of it, he had never heard of a wand performing magic on its own before.

 His scar seared with pain, it was all he could do not to moan aloud. Muttering
about fresh air, he set down his glass and left the room.

 As he crossed the yard, the great skeletal thestral looked up – rustled its enormous
batlike wings, then resumed its grazing. Harry stopped at the gate into the garden, staring
out at its overgrown plants, rubbing his pounding forehead and thinking of Dumbledore.

 Dumbledore would have believed him, he knew it. Dumbledore would have
known how and why Harry's wand had acted independently, because Dumbledore always
had the answers; he had known about wands, had explained to Harry the strange
connection that existed between his wand and Voldemort's . . . . But Dumbledore, like
Mad-Eye, like Sirius, like his parents, like his poor owl, all were gone where Harry could
never talk to them again. He felt a burning in his throat that had nothing to do with
firewhisky. . . .

 And then, out of nowhere, the pain in his scar peaked. As he clutched his forehead
and closed his eyes, a voice screamed inside his head.

 "You told me the problem would be solved by using another's wand!"

 And into his mind burst the vision of an emaciated old man lying in rags upon a
stone floor, screaming, a horrible drawn-out scream, a scream of unendurable agony. . . .

 "No! No! I beg you, I beg you. . . ."

 "You lied to Lord Voldemort, Ollivander!"

 "I did not. . . . I swear I did not. . . ."

 "You sought to help Potter, to help him escape me!"

 "I swear I did not. . . . I believed a different wand would work. . . ."

 "Explain, then, what happened. Lucius's wand is destroyed!"

 "I cannot understand. . . . The connection . . . exists only . . between your two
wands. . . ."

 "Lies!"

 "Please . . . I beg you. . . ."

 And Harry saw the white hand raise its wand and felt Voldemort's surge of
vicious anger, saw the frail old main on the floor writhe in agony –

 "Harry?"

 It was over as quickly as it had come: Harry stood shaking in the darkness,
clutching the gate into the garden, his heart racing, his scar still tingling. It was several
moments before he realized that Ron and Hermione were at his side.

 "Harry, come back in the house," Hermione whispered, "You aren't still thinking
of leaving?"

 "Yeah, you've got to stay, mate," said Ron, thumping Harry on the back.

 "Are you all right?" Hermione asked, close enough now to look into Harry's face.
"You look awful!"

 "Well," said Harry shakily, "I probably look better than Ollivander. . . ."

 When he had finished telling them what he had seen, Ron looked appalled, but
Hermione downright terrified.

 "But it was supposed to have stopped! Your scar – it wasn't supposed to do this
anymore! You mustn't let that connection open up again – Dumbledore wanted you to
close your mind!"

 When he did not reply, she gripped his arm.

 "Harry, he's taking over the Ministry and the newspapers and half the Wizarding
world! Don't let him inside your head too!"