Harry Potter.4 Access

Ron was snoring in the next bed, still not talking to him. Hermione had sent him a message via a tiny, folded paper crane that morning: “Read about Swiveling Distraction Spells. Page 394.” But Harry had barely opened Magical Me without wanting to throw it across the tent.

He didn’t know which one yet. Didn’t matter. A dragon was a dragon. Fire, claws, teeth, and the kind of speed that made a Golden Snitch look like a polite invitation. Harry Potter.4

“I’m thinking about dying,” Harry said flatly. “But running’s on the list.” Ron was snoring in the next bed, still not talking to him

But for the first time all week, he didn’t feel alone. Harry Potter.4

“You’re thinking about running.”

It wasn’t a question.