A soft cry brought him sharply back to himself, and he blinked his eyes open to find a soft white mist in front of his face. No... no it shouldn’t be a mist. He pushed himself cautiously upright, peering about himself curiously, and feeling relieved when his eyes caught on a set of soft pale robes hovering in the air just ahead of him. He gathered his feet under him, and slid the robes over his shoulders, grateful at their appearance. There was another cry, sharp and piercing, that had Harry looking abruptly over his shoulder into the mist. No... no it shouldn’t be mist! He knew it shouldn’t - it should be -.