Tony thinks it's probably something a little more than luck that had him dancing with a five-foot-nothing freshman when the floor started cracking beneath his feet and the roof started caving in. Surely, she would have been squashed dead if he hadn't been there to—literally—shoulder the falling debris. But that's not what Tony tells the girl when the ash settles, "Don't you worry. This'll all turn out just fine."

And for a moment, he believes that. He can hear his sister hollerin' about a tote bag. His shoulder smarts a bit but it's hardly worse than a blow from a bludger. A quick patdown proves his tuxedo pockets are still filled and he's still got his testicles, spectacles, wallet, and watch.

Oh snap! But his wand is missing. And upon further survey ... Pax, Merlin, Holland...

Well, shit on a shingle. That just won't do. Tony jumps to action, raising his good arm above his head and twirling a finger around in a, "Everyone round up!" motion. "A'right, folks, let's get movin'."