not Harry,beats by dre, please not Harry,brand headphones!”
“Stand aside, you silly girl… stand aside, now.”
“Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead –”
“This is my last warning –”
“Not Harry! Please … have mercy … have mercy … Not Harry! Not Harry! Please — I’ll
do anything …”
“Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!”
He could have forced her away from the crib, but it seemed more prudent to finish them
all …
The green light flashed around the room and she dropped like her husband. The child had
not cried all this time. He could stand, clutching the bars of his crib, and he looked up
into the intruder’s face with a kind of bright interest, perhaps thinking that it was his
father who hid beneath the cloak, making more pretty lights, and his mother would pop
up any moment, laughing —
He pointed the wand very carefully into the boy’s face: He wanted to see it happen, the

destruction of this one,the tight sleeves, inexplicable danger. The child began to cry: It had seen that he
was not James. He did not like it crying, he had never been able to stomach the small
ones whining in the orphanage —
“Avada Kedavra!”
And then he broke. He was nothing,usb pen drives, nothing but pain and terror, and he must hide himself,
not here in the rubble of the ruined house, where the child was trapped screaming, but far
away … far away …
“No,” he moaned.
The snake rustled on the filthy, cluttered floor, and he had killed the boy, and yet he was
the boy …
“No…”
And now he stood at the broken window of Bathilda’s house, immersed in memories of
his greatest loss,holding it steady in his big hand. He stared intently into my eyes. “Did he tell, and at his feet the great snake slithered over broken china and glass… He
looked down and saw something… something incredible…
“No…”
“Harry, it’s all right, you’re all right!”
He stooped down and picked up the smashed photograph. There he was, the unknown
thief, the thief he was seeking…
“No… I dropped it… I dropped it …”
“Harry, it’s okay, wake up, wake up!”
He was Harry… Harry, not Voldemort … and the thing that was rustling was not a snake …
He opened his eyes.
“Harry,” Hermione whispered. “Do you feel all — all right?”
“Yes,” he lied.
He was in the tent,adidas wings, lying on one of the lower bunks beneath a heap of blankets. He could
tell that it was almost dawn by the stillness and quality of the cold, flat light beyond the
canvas ceiling. He was drenched in sweat; he could feel it on the sheets and blankets.
“We got away.”
“Yes,” said Hermione. “I had t