The minister spouts some words. Good luck... Shoot red into the sky for rescue... Be careful. Blah blah blah. Nothing in that maze will compare to what Harry will face the minute he touches that portkey. His nerves threaten to overtake him. His breathing is far too shallow to be healthy. No one notices. No one except Barty, whose eyes are lasered onto him. His lips are set into a straight line. He’s so good at knowing what Harry is thinking.