"Are we?" Harry asked, rather than answering the question —he'd not have been able to answer it— fiddling nervously with the vile in his hands. The bluejay —who'd apparently been hiding with Theo until they'd left— was fluttering around inside his robes, like she had full intentions of going through with them. But she refused to show herself. He could feel the way she was nervous, the way she wanted him to hurry up. Part of him wanted to ask her— what was she doing, what was the point; a larger part of him knew instinctively not to reveal her. "Do we have any idea what we're walking into?" The nerves were only catching up to him now, when reality was well —real. And terrifying. 