After transferring Ron, Hermione, and Ginny’s unconscious bodies into three conjured beds beside Harry, Horace Slughorn, Molly, and Arthur watched over them with growing unease as the trio remained unresponsive for over an hour.

“How long must we wait for them to wake?” Molly asked, her frustration betrayed by worried lines on her moonlit face. She sensed Slughorn was hiding something about their plight. It tortured her to think of Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny trapped in their minds. Though she knew to let them face their trial.

Lost in thought, Slughorn regretfully replied, “I don’t know. The ritual gave no hint of their struggle. We can only wait.”

An anxious Hagrid looked up from where he sat on the edge of Harry’s bed. “They will wake up, won’ they?” he asked hesitantly.

Slughorn considered his words carefully before responding. He met his worried gaze evenly, taking a deep breath as if steeling himself to deliver difficult news. “If the ritual fails, I’m afraid Harry may not wake up,” he finally admitted grimly.

Horrified, the adults instantly focused their stunned attention on the four teens. The implications short-circuited their thinking, and they momentarily lost awareness of the world around them. They could do nothing to help except hope the ritual succeeded. They understood Harry’s frustration at knowing what was happening yet being powerless to act. Never one to avoid a fight, he always confronted his enemies head-on. But how could he battle an adversary embedded in his very soul?

Hagrid sat rigidly, straining to hear Harry’s breathing, which had settled into a steady rhythm. Though he breathed evenly, Harry looked frail. His face was pale with fatigue, his lips cracked.

Lost in gloomy thoughts, the three adults jumped at a furious tapping on the window. George Weasley’s owl flapped wildly outside, clutching a red envelope in its talons—a Howler. Bill let the owl in, and they gaped in surprise.

“Why would George send a Howler?” Percy asked, puzzled.

Wordlessly, Bill grabbed the envelope in anxious haste and ripped it open, the Howler inside bursting forth in front of him. Corban Yaxley’s bellowing voice immediately filled the silence of Shell Cottage. Exchanging apprehensive looks, they braced themselves to hear his message.

“WE HAVE YOUR PRECIOUS SON GEORGE. IF YOU WANT TO SEE HIM ALIVE, BRING POTTER TO THE FORBIDDEN FOREST. YOU HAVE UNTIL MIDNIGHT.”

A heavy silence descended on the group as the red envelope in Bill’s hands burst into flames, then flickered out, leaving only ashes behind. The adults stood frozen, feet rooted to the creaking floorboards, as if a tidal wave had crashed over them. Exchanging stunned looks, they turned to one another.

“G-George,” Molly stammered, hand trembling against her chest, her face etched with fear as she faced her husband.

Arthur shifted uneasily, panic in his eyes. “We have four hours before midnight.”

“How do we know if tha’ Howler told the truth?” Hagrid boomed out impatiently, glaring at the ashes. “Yaxley could be lyin’.”

“I can check the joke shop. George lives just above it,” Percy volunteered immediately, receiving a slight nod from Hagrid to indicate he understood.

Arthur nodded as well. “Send us a word once you find out, son.” Percy swiftly darted out of the cottage and Disapparated.

“I’ll have to talk to Kingsley,” Arthur informed Molly. “We’ll need to devise a plan, and we may have to go there without Harry.”

“But they’ll kill George if Harry’s not with us,” Molly said fretfully, her voice shaky and eyes brimming with tears.

Arthur attempted to speak encouragingly, “We cannot jump to conclusions yet. We must think through this situation rationally.” Molly forced a tense smile before Arthur hurried out the front door. Once he was a safe distance from the cottage, he Disapparated.

----------------------------------------

Harry complained impatiently, “What took you so long?” as Hermione finally emerged from the door to join them for the second task. The rest of the group had been waiting for her arrival so they could efficiently complete the next challenge together.

They were in a dark, circular room much like the first one. The only light came from the center, where two tall, magnificent mirrors with knobbed sides like doors stood facing them.

“Why do you have to wait for me?” Hermione shot back, irritated. “If you’re in such a hurry, you can just go on without me!”

Harry glowered at her. “I would have if I could. Apparently, the room refused to reveal the details of the second task unless we were all present. At last, you decided to grace us with your presence,” he said mockingly, rolling his eyes at the bushy-haired girl.

“How was I supposed to know that?” she retorted angrily, her face flushing red. “I’m here now, so stop your whining!”

Fuming with rage, Harry whirled around and strode away, his cloak billowing dramatically behind him.

Ginny sighed at their bickering and followed after Harry.

“You alright?” Ron asked Hermione gently.

“I’m fine,” Hermione replied tersely.

“What happened back there? Did you get into trouble?”

“No,” she whispered, looking down at her shoes. Then she glanced back up abruptly at the Hufflepuff competitor and asked curiously, “Did you get a headache and a vision after completing the first task?”

Ron shook his head in bewilderment. “What do you mean, you had a vision?” he asked.

Hermione recounted what she had seen. By the time she finished her summary, Ron was lost in pensive thought.

“Are you certain you’ve never had a memory like this before?” he inquired.

“It’s highly unlikely I’d have memories of Potter as a friend,” Hermione responded decisively. “As you know, he and I are not on good terms.”

“True,” Ron acknowledged. “Or maybe you were seeing the future!” He latched onto the idea eagerly, beaming as if he was convinced he had resolved her predicament.

“I’m not sure,” Hermione said thoughtfully, her eyes distant as she fidgeted with her skirt. “It doesn’t seem to be from the future. I got the sense it’s happening now, but in a different dimension. You know?”

Ron contemplated her words. “Yeah, I understand. But why are you having these visions now?”

“It’s really odd,” she explained, glancing back at him. “I gave the potion to all three for the first task since I wanted to save them all. Then this started happening.”

“Maybe it’s because of how you approached the challenge. You did handle it differently than the others.”

Hermione chewed her lip anxiously, furrowing her brows into a knot. “No, that can’t be right,” she muttered. “The vision felt so real. As strange as it sounds, I feel compelled to do something about it.”

“But how?” Ron asked incredulously. “You can’t just transport yourself to another dimension. That’s impossible!”

“I’m not sure how, but it must relate to these tasks somehow,” Hermione insisted.

Noticing Harry and Ginny’s tense standoff, Ron and Hermione joined them. The four edged between the mirrors until they stood frozen by a distant voice asking “Who are you?”

Harry gazed transfixed at his reflections, staring at the facets of himself revealed in the mirrors. On the left, he saw his ordinary self, wearing his everyday clothes. On the right, the mirror showed Harry as successful versions of himself—Minister of Magic in fine robes, Head Auror with a heroic stance, a dashing Healer in a crisp uniform. Compared to the alluring images on the right, the plain reflection on the left seemed dull. “Who are you?” the voice asked again, and Harry pondered his possible selves.

Ron squinted at the scene before him. The mirror on the right reflected him holding the Triwizard Cup, surrounded by the beaming faces of his proud parents as their only child. This vision showed Ron everything he had ever longed for in life. It was difficult for Ron to cope with his actual circumstances, and gazing at his heart’s desire in the mirror made him ache for it desperately. In other facets, he saw himself as a famous alchemist or a professor at prestigious schools, while the mirror on the left only showed Ron as he truly was.

The two magical objects reflected the same visions for Hermione and Ginny when they looked into the right mirror. Hermione saw herself as the Headmistress of Hogwarts, decorated with Order of Merlin awards for her accomplishments and named an Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League. Glowing with pride, she admired her imagined future self.

Ginny’s reflection showed her as the Quidditch Captain for the renowned Holyhead Harpies and a Senior Quidditch Correspondent at the Daily Prophet. Like Harry and Ron’s plain reflections in the left mirror, Hermione and Ginny saw only themselves unchanged in the left mirror too.

The four of them gazed longingly at the mirror, each seeing their most cherished dreams reflected back, too enthralled to notice the others, except Hermione. She peered curiously at the mirror on the left.

“Does it show the future?” asked Ginny in wonder.

“No,” said Ron bluntly.

“How do you know?”

“Because it shows me as an only child.”

“So what does the mirror do?”

“The mirrors allow us to see the deepest desires of our heart,” Harry replied simply.

“Isn’t it strange that two mirrors are before us, forcing us to choose?” Hermione asked thoughtfully. “One shows only our reflection, while the other reveals our innermost longings. Clearly, we know we should choose the right path.”

“You’re right,” Ginny agreed. “The mirror on the right.” She reached out, hoping to fall through the glass and grasp her dreams. Yearning shot through her as her heart ached, making her tremble.

“It’s not odd at all,” Harry said absentmindedly, clearly distracted by the mirror that reflected his deepest desires. “They’re just mirrors that can’t harm you, like in the first task. You don’t need to overthink it. Instead of the boring one on the left, the one on the right shows where you want your life to go.”

“But don’t we all want the same thing?” Hermione asked curiously. “What’s the purpose of the left mirror?”

“Nothing!” Harry snapped in frustration. The Muggle-born’s questions were grating on him. “You can still achieve your goals, regardless of the mirror you pick.”

“I’m just saying there must be a reason for this,” Hermione tried to explain. Though Ron agreed with her logic, the allure of the right mirror tempted him, as if walking through it would make its reflections come true.

Harry heaved a frustrated sigh. “Think whatever you want, but hurry up! Your slow thinking is maddening,” he snapped. Gripping the knob, he turned it decisively and strode through the right mirror without glancing back.

Hermione cursed under her breath. “Why can’t he stop and think for a minute? I know he resents us, but rushing ahead blindly won’t help us overcome these trials,” she grumbled, eyebrows knitted.

Ron spoke calmly to Hermione, though his patience with Harry was wearing thin as well, “Let him do as he wishes, Hermione.”

“I’m only saying—” Hermione started.

“He probably knows what he’s doing,” Ginny interrupted casually. “Mind you, he makes a fair point too. I’m following his lead without overthinking it. So far, we haven’t run into any issues from choosing what seemed right in the moment, have we?” She patted Hermione’s shoulder and went through the right mirror.

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

Ron gave Hermione a sad smile. “It’s just us two again. Though I’m tempted to take the right mirror, I suppose I should trust your instinct,” he told her somewhat reluctantly. He cleared his throat. “Would you like to go first?”

“Sure,” she said. She walked slowly toward the left mirror, turned the knob, and looked back at Ron. “See you on the other side,” she said. Ron nodded as she disappeared behind the door.

Ron followed her footsteps and opened the door after her. The moment he closed it behind him, visions swam across his mind, portraying the same scenes and images Hermione had described. It took him a few minutes to calm down after seeing what she had seen. He found her waiting, her expression understanding. She too had witnessed another vision, rendering them both speechless at first.

“D-did you see it t-too?” she asked, voice quivering.

“Yes,” Ron replied with a nod. “At first I thought I was losing my mind, but then I saw all these images… dozens of them.”

“What did you see?” Hermione asked.

Ron gulped. “I saw myself and him,” he said, gesturing toward Harry who was walking far ahead. “We were together in Gryffindor. We had so many adventures at school—it was bizarre. I could never picture being friends with him.”

“Isn’t it strange?” Hermione whispered anxiously, though excitement also coursed through her. “I was there too. We were like best friends, and we seemed really happy in each other’s company.”

“I’m confused, but now I understand what you were saying... It felt so real, like I’ve been there before,” he said with a shudder. “But why did Potter look so ill, as if he were dying?” he asked inquisitively.

Hermione glanced up in surprise at his worried expression. “You saw it too?”

“Yeah, I wasn’t expecting it until I saw my mum helping him in our living room. I recognized it from my last vision.”

“Mine too,” she agreed eagerly. “I saw a book called Anima—I don’t know why the other Hermione was reading it. Ever heard of it?”

“It means ‘soul’,” Ron said simply

After a moment of silence where they both contemplated their own reflections, Hermione finally spoke up hesitantly. “This may sound strange, but I think we should help him.”

Ron’s eyes widened in disbelief at her suggestion. “Are you crazy? How could we possibly do that?” he questioned incredulously.

“I’m not sure,” she admitted, “but whenever I go against the obvious choices in these tasks, the visions and memories become clearer. It’s like they’re connected somehow. Also, the Potter here is so unlike the one in my visions.”

Ron nodded emphatically. “I know exactly what you mean,” he said. “Harry is friends with half-breeds and doesn’t care about blood purity. He’s the moral compass in that world. I actually like him much better than the types we have here.” Ron glared at the dark-haired boy walking ahead of them down the torch-lined corridor, which would undoubtedly lead to the next task.

Ron and Hermione broke into a sprint to catch up with Harry and Ginny.

Suddenly, Hermione gasped and froze, her feet stuck to the floor.

“What is it?” Ron asked, alarmed.

“I could hear it, Ron,” Hermione replied.

Frowning in confusion, Ron asked, “What do you mean you heard it? How could you hear a vision?”

Hermione hesitated briefly before whispering, “I don’t know how, but it was like I was there with them. I kept picturing it in my mind, and then I heard it.” She looked at Ron uncertainly and added, “Potter’s soul is damaged, and I saw us cast a spell.” Glancing down, she murmured, “I think this world we’re in now isn’t real, Ron.”

“What?” he asked, bewildered by her statement. “How can you say that?”

As she grasped for the right words, revelations were dawning in her mind, like lights switching on to illuminate a path back home. Though the journey remained unclear, she felt compelled to continue.

“I just feel it,” she replied gently. “I can’t explain it fully, but try to immerse yourself in those visions... Try to feel and hear them...”

Ron was once again lost in thought, remembering what he had witnessed after the second task. The wind whispered through the trees and waves crashed in the distance. In that other world, Harry was speaking but the words were muted. The scene shifted to a dim room where Hermione and Ginny stood around a bed, gazes fixed on its occupant—Harry, smiling up at them. Ron’s eyes went wide when he suddenly heard Harry’s voice. “Thank you for helping me. I don’t know what will happen after this, but I want you all to know how much...” But Ron failed to catch Harry’s next words, as the vision showed him drinking a potion and a bright, silver light.

Before Ron could speak to Hermione about what he had witnessed, the four of them entered a brilliantly lit chamber with a soaring ceiling that resembled a Quidditch stadium. Four broomsticks materialized, as the buzz of the golden snitch’s wings zoomed past their ears. They halted beside the hovering broomsticks, ready to be mounted. Still reeling from Hermione’s revelations about their artificial world reflecting Harry’s damaged soul, Ron wondered if her claims were true. His ruminations ceased when Hermione addressed the group.

“Are we supposed to catch the snitch?” She looked around anxiously for any sign of the elusive golden ball, her mind wandering despite her exceptional Quidditch talents.

“I think so,” Ginny replied uncertainly.

Harry had already mounted his broom and taken off, giving them the silent treatment rather than talking.

Ron turned to face Hermione. “I heard some of it, Hermione,” he blurted, unable to restrain his curiosity. “He was thanking us for helping him out. We drank a potion and cast a spell...like you said.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his sister looking at him in bewilderment, having overheard.

“What are you rambling about?” Ginny asked, looking curiously between her brother and Hermione.

“Look, Ginny...” Ron said carefully, nervously eyeing Hermione who nodded for him to continue. “This may sound strange, but after the first and second tasks, Hermione and I had a vision about the four of us together.”

Ginny raised her eyebrows skeptically. “A vision?” she repeated with an amused snort, as if divination was the last thing Ron would ever willingly dabble in. “And what exactly did you see in this ‘vision’?” she asked mockingly, feigning interest.

“We were all friends,” Hermione interjected. “Even Harry was really close with us, but he was unwell because of his damaged soul.”

Ginny let out a loud guffaw. “I’m well aware of how much you dislike Harry, Hermione. Being his friend is something you would never desire, and your remarks about his soul... You’re consumed by bizarre fantasies. How can I be certain you’re not fabricating these visions?”

“I’m not,” Hermione insisted forcefully. “Ron has witnessed them too, so how do you account for that?”

“How should I know? It’s possible you want to use this against Harry to prevail in this contest.”

With a weary sigh, Ron realized it would be difficult to make his stubborn sister understand. “We didn’t invent those visions, Ginny. Why would you even think so? We both saw them in our minds.”

“It’s obvious,” she replied incredulously. “Because you both detest him. I’ll wager you’d do anything to stop him.”

Ron asked heatedly, “Do you see us stopping him right now? There’s a bigger problem… I can feel it.”

Mounting her broom, Ginny stated, “I have no time for this. We’re in the middle of a task here in case you’ve forgotten.” She spat the words and flew away before Ron could respond.

“What do we do now?” Ron asked Hermione anxiously.

“We have to try harder,” she muttered resolutely, holding out one of the remaining broomsticks. “We have to encourage your sister to believe us before we do anything with Potter.”

They took off into the air. Keeping a good distance from Ginny, Ron flew behind. Hermione sped up and flew beside Ginny so they could talk.

“Ginny,” Hermione called out as the wind brushed her face. “I swear these visions are real, not made up! Harry is in danger and needs our help now.”

Ginny’s eyes flashed with annoyance and she halted her broom midair. “That’s rubbish,” she snapped. “Visions are just figments of your imagination, nothing more. I know you dislike your life, but don’t drag me into your nonsense.” She sped up again, with Hermione struggling to keep up behind her.

“Please, just hear me out,” Hermione pleaded desperately. “I know it’s hard to believe. I won’t deny I hate my life because of Harry, but please try to open your mind! This is a different Harry we’re dealing with, and he needs you, Ginny. He needs us.”

“And why is that exactly?” Ginny asked, her tone menacing.

Hermione hesitated. “All I know is that our current world is not real,” she said with conviction.

Ginny let out a derisive laugh, choking on her words. “Are you serious!?” she asked, incredulous. “Are you hearing yourself? Have you gone mad? How can this not be real?”

“It’s all in your head, Ginny,” Ron replied, rushing to catch up with the two girls to back up Hermione’s statement. “I feel like we’re not in control... like something else is dictating our emotions, thoughts, perceptions.”

“That doesn’t make it any less real,” Ginny countered quickly.

“But you’re missing the point,” Ron said finally. “I think your visions have stopped because you are letting this ‘something’ overpower you.”

“Think of it this way,” Hermione interjected quickly before Ginny could leave again. “Your beliefs shape your reality—how you act, what you want. To change your reality, change your mindset. Don’t let negative thoughts control you.”

“Fine, what do I need to do then?” Ginny sighed, resigned to hearing them out.

“Convince yourself this world isn’t real, that this isn’t the real you,” Ron urged.

“It’s hard to explain something we don’t yet grasp ourselves,” Hermione said plainly. “But have faith that there’s a reason we’re having these visions.”

Ginny fell silent. She wanted to uncover the meaning behind the visions, yet it still mystified her. Letting go of everything she had toiled for felt absurd, and the notion that her world was not real seemed insulting. As she scanned for the snitch, yearning to be Hogwarts’s Triwizard champion, doubts about her own mind crept in. If some external force controlled her fate, could she truly trust herself?

Catching the snitch was proving difficult. Even Harry, who had been chasing it for a while, found it kept disappearing before reappearing across the stadium. By the time he reached it, the tiny golden ball would change course again, thwarting all efforts. Frustrated, Harry watched his three competitors chatting together, oblivious to the challenge.

He accelerated frantically, eager for this fruitless pursuit to conclude so he could relax in his cozy Slytherin dormitory bed. The Slytherin common room, filled with purebloods who shared his views, felt like home. He yearned to return to his favored chamber, his exhaustion growing. No one could say when these trials would end—not even the three people with him now.

Harry’s eyes darted ahead as a glint of gold entered his vision. He thought the others were too preoccupied to notice the Snitch’s location, so he was surprised when Ginny suddenly sped past, determination etched on her face. Shaking himself alert, Harry raced to catch up until they were neck and neck. Ron and Hermione trailed behind, lacking the single-minded focus driving him and Ginny. He caught them whispering but dismissed it; Ginny commanded his full attention now as she pulled ahead, flying with impressive speed. Harry had to admire her skill, even as he knew he couldn’t let admiration distract him. This was a competition and he was determined to show her who would triumph.

Harry leaned forward, straining to increase his speed and strength as the snitch darted unpredictably just beyond his reach. Exhilarated by the challenge of tracking the snitch’s erratic path, he was determined not to let it elude him again. Mere inches from Ginny, he saw her hand poised above the glittering snitch. At any second, she would snatch it. Suddenly, he yelped in surprise as his broomstick lurched beneath him, likely unbalanced by the reckless speed. Fighting to steady himself, he gripped the bucking broom, but it jerked sharply sideways.

Ginny heard Harry’s faint cry but was too focused on grasping the snitch to pay it much attention. Ron and Hermione shouted something from behind, though their voices faded into the background as Ginny zeroed in on the golden ball. However, Harry’s increasingly panicked shouts finally broke through her concentration. Whipping around, Ginny’s eyes widened in horror at the sight of Harry dangling precariously from his broom high above the hard ground. With a final wistful look at the elusive snitch, Ginny spun and raced to Harry’s aid, reaching him just before his slippery fingers lost their tenuous grip. Grasping his arm with all her might, Ginny struggled to haul Harry back onto his broom while maintaining her own balance. At that moment, something shifted between them.

Ginny’s mind exploded with visions, as if watching a scene from a moving painting. Transfixed in place, her eyes, glazed with wonder and confusion, stared unfocused into the distance.

Noticing her sudden trance, Harry debated shaking her out of her stupor. Looking around, he saw Ron and Hermione nearby, similarly immobilized with the same hazy gaze. Though alarmed, Harry wondered why he alone was unaffected. He guided his broom next to Ginny and gently shook her.

“Ginny,” Harry said softly, noticing her eyes welling with tears. “Are you okay?” She remained speechless, trembling uncontrollably. Hearing broomsticks behind him, Harry saw Ron and Hermione had arrived. “What happened?” he asked impatiently, reverting to his old rough, stubborn ways.

“You were right. This isn’t real,” Ginny finally said, her voice hushed as she covered her mouth in shock. “I heard him—I feel his pain.” Tears streamed down her face as Ron and Hermione nodded in agreement.

Harry was getting frustrated with so many unresolved questions. “What are you talking about?” he asked again. “What isn’t real?”

“You,” Hermione said softly. “We heard and saw you in a vision.”

Ron jumped in upon seeing Harry’s bewildered irritation. “In a memory,” he clarified.

“You were suffering so much,” Ginny murmured sadly, dabbing her teary eyes on her sleeve.

Harry sighed incredulously and said, “You all seem insane, speaking in riddles that make no sense. How could I be in pain when I feel fine? Why are you having visions about me? Did I miss something? Is this still part of the tournament tasks?” His mind swirled with unanswered questions, and he doubted the three students driving him mad could provide satisfactory explanations.

“No Harry, I don’t think it’s part of the task,” Hermione tried to explain, forgetting herself and addressing him informally. “This world… it’s not real. The real world is in the visions we saw.”

Harry barked a derisive laugh. “Have you completely lost your mind? You can’t have visions or memories of things if you weren’t there. I’m perfectly healthy, in case you were wondering.” He sighed again, shaking his head in disbelief.

Ron tried to convince Harry, “You can’t see the truth because you’re wasting your life only seeing and living what’s put in front of you. This world is just an illusion—a false reality. You need to open your eyes to see clearly. Ginny didn’t believe us at first either, but now she understands.”

Harry shook his head, obstinately refusing, “I’m not buying it.” Crossing his arms, he said, “There are too many contradictions in what you three are saying.”

Hermione told him gently, “You don’t always have to understand everything. Some things just won’t make sense. You only need to accept the truth wholeheartedly, like we did. Now we’re trying to help you.”

Bristling with irritation, Harry snapped, “I don’t need any help, especially not from any of you. Let’s just get back to the task we’re supposed to be working on before I completely lose it.” With that, he whirled around and stormed off in a huff.

Harry alone kept his focus on the Quidditch match, while Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had already resigned from the team. They were determined to persuade Harry that quitting was the only escape from their dire predicament, though he remained oblivious, caught up in seeking the snitch. Before long, Harry triumphantly caught the golden ball and landed, wearing a smug grin.

“You’ve all totally given up, haven’t you?” he asked mockingly, brushing off their worries. In truth, their pleas fell on deaf ears, as Harry cared little for their advice.

“No,” Hermione whispered, “we have only one goal now: to convince you—”

Harry cut off his Ravenclaw competitor with a sneer, “That this world is fake? Not a chance.”

“Harry… please listen to us,” Ginny pleaded, following behind as he strode determinedly toward the door to the next task. “You have to believe what we’re saying, or you’ll die.”

Spinning around, hands braced against the door, Harry snarled loudly, “What? Is that a threat, Weasley?”

“No, Harry,” she responded nervously, “It’s the truth.”

Pointing an accusing finger at Ginny, Harry threatened in a menacing tone, “Listen up... If you all don’t quit harassing me, you’ll be sorry!” He then stormed off behind the door, leaving Ron, Hermione, and Ginny irritated but resolute.

To be continued...