The three witches pulled him from the water, then tried to leap the brook themselves, but it would not let them cross, and all the while the sun was sinking lower in the sky.
Harry dozed fitfully, sinking into dreams full of clammy, rotted hands and petrified pleading, jerking awake to dwell again on the sound of his mother's voice.
It's cracked up to be grounds for a whole lot more crusty work that can't be fenced in without a sinking feeling, at least until things get terra firmed up.