𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒-ℍ𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕪 ℙ𝕠𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣❥

𝐃𝐇 𝟏𝟕

It was snowing by the time Emily took over the watch at midnight.

Harry's dreams were confused and disturbing: Nagini wove in and out of them, first through a gigantic, cracked ring, then through a wreath of Christmas roses. He woke repeatedly, panicky, convinced that somebody had called out to him in the distance, imagining that the wind whipping around the tent was footsteps or voices.

Finally he got up in the darkness and joined Emily, who was huddled in the entrance to the tent reading A History of Magic by the light of her wand. The snow was still falling thickly, and she greeted with relief his suggestion of packing up early and moving on.

"We'll go somewhere more sheltered," she agreed, shivering as she pulled on a sweatshirt over her pyjamas after waking up Hermione and telling her to pack up, "I kept thinking I could hear people moving outside. I even thought I saw somebody once or twice."

Harry paused in the act of pulling on a jumper and glanced at the silent, motionless Sneakoscope on the table.

"I'm sure I imagined it," said Emily, looking nervous. "The snow in the dark, it plays tricks on your eyes. . . . But perhaps we ought to Disapparate under the Invisibility Cloak, just in case?"

Half an hour later, with the tent packed, Emily wearing the Horcrux, Hermione clutching the beaded bag, and Harry clinging onto Emily's arm, they Disapparated.

The usual tightness engulfed them; Emily's feet parted company with the snowy ground, then slammed hard onto what felt like frozen earth covered with leaves.

"Where are we?" she asked, peering around at a fresh mass of trees as Hermione opened the beaded bag and began tugging out tent poles.

"The Forest of Dean," she said. "I came camping here once with my mum and dad."

Here too snow lay on the trees all around and it was bitterly cold, but they were at least protected from the wind. They spent most of the day inside the tent, huddled for warmth around the useful bright blue flames that Emily was so adept at producing, and which could be scooped up and carried around in a jar.

Harry felt as though he was recuperating from some brief but severe illness, an impression reinforced by Hermione's solicitousness.

That afternoon fresh flakes drifted down upon them, so that even their sheltered clearing had a fresh dusting of powdery snow.

After two nights of little sleep, Harry's senses seemed more alert than usual. Their escape from Godric's Hollow had been so narrow that Voldemort seemed somehow closer than before, more threatening.

As darkness drew in again Harry refused Hermione's offer to keep watch and told her to go to bed but Emily ignored him when he told her the same and followed him out anyway.

Harry moved two old cushions into the tent mouth and sat down next to Emily, wearing all the sweaters he owned but even so, still shivery.

Every tiny movement seemed magnified in the vastness of the forest. Emily knew that it must be full of living creatures, but she wished they would all remain still and silent so that she could separate their innocent scurryings and prowlings from noises that might proclaim other, sinister movements.

She remembered the sound of a cloak slithering over dead leaves many years ago, and at once thought she heard it again before Harry stroked her arm, reminding her that they were surely safe. Their protective enchantments had worked for weeks; why should they break now? And yet she could not throw off the feeling that something was different tonight.

Several times she jerked upright, her neck aching because she had fallen asleep on Harry , slumped at an awkward angle against the side of the tent.

The night reached such a depth of velvety blackness that she might have been suspended in limbo between Disapparition and Apparition.