A nightmare. Lester was embarrassed to have her here when he was in his nightclothes — he did not wear a shirt when he slept — but the distress in her whisper and the way she pressed her hands to her face took precedent over his shame. He reached the nightstand to grab his wand. "Lumos," Lester said, lighting his room with white light.

"How can I help?" he whispered to her.