The Unknown of the Order (Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery

The Call

Sarah paced back and forth in front of yet another campfire in another secluded wood during the oncoming night. 

"Maybe we could get in touch with Charlie," she mused, as the others picked at their dinners--a few nuts, meats, and cheeses they'd swiped from Tom's storage. 

"There's no point tracking down the dragon," said Jacob. "If Potter hasn't ditched it by now, he's been eaten."

"Okay, what if I try to send him a patronus-message? Tell him who we are, that we want to help."

"He'd be mad to listen to it. A strange patronus with a stranger's voice claiming to help him out of nowhere? It reeks of a trap."

Sarah grunted in frustration, pacing harder than ever. 

"You should probably eat something," Barnaby told her, though he cast a longing glance from his empty plate to her full one.

Sarah gave the plate a dismissive wave, and Barnaby snatched up a piece of salami to roll up and pop in his mouth. 

They'd left the Leaky Cauldron in a hurry, but not quick enough to miss the frantic whispers of its terrified, yet excited patrons. 

"Potter's back? Really?"

"Robbed Gringotts?"

"On a dragon! I saw it."

"Heard he took something of You-Know-Who's."

"Does this mean Potter's going to fight him?"

"Shhh! Do you want to lose your head?"

The mass killing at Gringotts had not done quite enough to dampen the spirits that rose with Harry Potter and the dragon into the air. Potter may as well have flown a banner over the wizarding world: "Don't lose hope. I'm here. I'm fighting."

Sarah felt a surge in energy unlike she'd had in weeks--a call to action. No longer could she cower in the woods and flee at the flash of green light. She would follow Harry Potter, she would fight alongside him when the time came. But how to find him? What could she do?

"There's nothing we can do for now," said Jacob, as if he sensed her thoughts (which, he probably did). 

He stood. "We best get some rest. We've had a....a difficult day."

He was right, of course. Elena had hardly spoken since they'd left the bank, often staring off into nothingness. Merula, on the other hand, muttered to herself continually, only pausing to glare venomously at anyone who asked her if she was alright. Barnaby had dropped Sarah's slice of gouda at the mention of today's events, his face greening slightly. 

How could they sleep, after the horror they'd just witnessed? Sarah's muscles yearned for action, for justice. She needed to avenge the tragedy that had rained down from Voldemort's wand. The Gingotts goblins had always sort of creeped her out, but they didn't deserve to die. They were pointless casualties in a war between wizards. Sarah knew if she tried to sleep tonight, she'd only be plagued by visions of stampeding patrons and jets of green light, and the sounds of an evil, anguished yell over a hundred final screams. 

Still, go to bed they did. Sarah lay awake in her bunk, feeling the anxious energy in the air that suggested her tent-mates were wide awake, too. She couldn't help but feel she was waiting for something. It was as if Harry Potter had turned over an hourglass, and she would be summoned once the final grain of sand fell. 

Perhaps that was why she sprung out of bed without a second thought when the blinding, blue-white light shone through the tent flap. Or perhaps she was just stupid.

She barely registered the stern voices as she hurried across the floor, shaking away the arm that had clutched at her. She was even hit with a tripping jinx. She clattered to the floor, but sprang to her feet as if she was made of rubber and leaped forward to tear open the flap.