Harry Potter... continued again...

“The one leading to The Shrieking Shack. They didn’t see the boot.”
Harry recognized the old boot which Mr. Weasley had used as a port key to transport the Weasley Family and himself to the Quidditch World Cup.
“Very well then. We have two minutes before this portkey will go.”
At that moment Harry heard three cracks followed by a flash of green light illuminating the porch.
A man’s voice called out, “Lilly, take Harry and run!”
And he heard. Lord Voldemort’s high-pitched voice, “You don’t have to die. Step aside. Foolish. AVADA CADAVRA!” Another flash of green light.
“Harry! We have to get out of here.” Harry opened his eyes and saw a panic stricken Tonks looking down at him.
“What happened?” Harry asked rubbing his forehead, for the scar on his forehead singed with pain.
“You collapsed. You starrted saying something about someone not needing to die.”
“No time for camp fire stories.” Moody called out from the kitchen. “They’re out there. Must be at least seven Death Eaters, and they’re breaking through the enchantments quicker than I expected.”
“But I thought they’d already been here.”
“Sorry Harry.”
Harry let out a start. Mrs. Figg who had been lying doubled over, dead on the floor now stood up wiping her forehead with her hankie very much alive. Harry stuck out his wand toward Mrs. Figg. Just last year it had been heard that Lord Voldemort had employed the use of Inferi, corpses, to fight on his side. But clearly seeing that Mrs. Figg was as stumbley and stuttery as normal Harry retracted his wand.
“But you—“
“We didn’t know if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named still had a connection through you.” Moody coughed, “We couldn’t take any chance of you knowing too much. We thought if you though the Death Eaters had already been here it would have confussed Voldermort. So we put a sleeping draft on Arabella to—“
“To fool me.”
“It’s not like that Harry. We had—“ Tonks tried to cut in.
“How do you expect me to trust you if you don’t tell me the plan?”
“The plan is to protect you, Harry. And we’ll take every precaution to do so. Enough. Reach for that photograph.”
Harry could feel his scar starting to burn, was it his anger, or Voldemorts? But this time he could hear voices, a man calling out “I don’t know anything. I’ve told you everything.”
He rubbed his head and looked toward Mrs. Figg. She was holding up the picture frame she had clutched in her hands when she laid on the floor dead. It was a picture of Dubledore. Harry looked into the Headmaster’s brilliant blue eyes,which sparkled beneath his half-moon spectacles.
“It’s a portkey.” Mrs. Figg said breaking Harry’s thoughts.
“Twenty seconds, then.” Tonks said.