Now, in broad daylight, in that widening street, surprise was decidedly impossible, rude force had, moreover, been unmasked, the cannon had begun the roar, the army hurled itself on the barricade.
Harry's confusion increased. Who would be writing to Uncle Vernon about him? Who did he know who sent letters by the postman?
“Hermione — what'll happen — if we don't get back inside before Dumbledore locks the door?” Harry panted.
‘Harry,’ said Ron, pulling Harry's ear down to his mouth and still giggling weakly, ‘you know who this girl is, Harry? She's Loony ... Loony Lovegood ... ha ha ha ...’
through the lofty painted and gilded aisles, where a solemn twilight
“Why, where are they?”
“Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!”
And really he only ran a few steps alone. One soldier moved and then another and soon the whole battalion ran forward shouting "Hurrah!" and overtook him. A sergeant of the battalion ran up and took the flag that was swaying from its weight in Prince Andrew's hands, but he was immediately killed. Prince Andrew again seized the standard and, dragging it by the staff, ran on with the battalion. In front he saw our artillerymen, some of whom were fighting, while others, having abandoned their guns, were running toward him. He also saw French infantry soldiers who were seizing the artillery horses and turning the guns round. Prince Andrew and the battalion were already within twenty paces of the cannon. He heard the whistle of bullets above him unceasingly and to right and left of him soldiers continually groaned and dropped. But he did not look at them: he looked only at what was going on in front of him- at the battery. He now saw clearly the figure of a red-haired gunner with his shako knocked awry, pulling one end of a mop while a French soldier tugged at the other. He could distinctly see the distraught yet angry expression on the faces of these two men, who evidently did not realize what they were doing.