About thirty feet from the door, Molly abruptly stopped in her tracks and said, “Harry.” I paused and looked back at her. Her eyes were wide. She said, “I sense . . .” I narrowed my eyes. “Say it. You know you want to say it.” “It is not a disturbance in the Force,” she said, her voice half-exasperated. “There’s a . . . a presence here. Something powerful. I felt it in Chichén Itzá.”
