Chapter 5



Voldemort aimed his wand at the wizard before him and a triumphant cackle escaped his lips.

"So!" he exclaimed, barely able to contain his glee. "You never thought that this day would come, did you? Powerless to defend yourself, with my wand pointed straight at your heart!"

"Er…that's my left foot," Harry pointed out helpfully.

"Oh, er right – thank you," Voldemort replied, blushing, and pointing at his heart correctly this time. The Dark Lord composed himself once more. "I'm going to finish you off, Harry," he whispered menacingly. "First I tried to kill you, but your mother stopped me…then I tried to kill you again but that wand-connecting-thingy-doo-dah…." His sentence trailed off as he struggled to remember the name.

"Do you mean Priori Incantatem?" Harry interrupted.

"Oh, er yes, that's the one," the Dark Lord mumbled. He rubbed his nose embarrassedly. "Anyway, this time I've got you...nothing will stop me –

Harry didn't know what to do.

So he blinked.

Fortunately, and quite by chance, blinking happened to be a forgotten form of complex magic that Dumbledore had invented in order to get Harry out of a sticky situation, and within seconds the young wizard found himself sunning himself on a beach towel in the Bahamas. What are the chances?

Harry, still shaking from the shock of it all, sent an emergency postcard to Ron and Hermione, clearly stating:


(Why didn't he just send it to Dumbledore?)

Hundreds of miles away, Hermione read the chilling message and gasped, the postcard instantly dropping from her hand. She turned to Ron, completely dumbfounded.

"I don't believe it!" she shrieked. "This managed to arrive here and the stamp hasn't even been sealed!"