➣ 𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝟏 “𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙌𝙪𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙘𝙝 𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝘾𝙪𝙥”
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It was 5 a.m., and the entire house was reigned by silence. Like every morning after waking up, Nicolás was off his bed doing his yoga routine. He may not be as sporty as Caelum, Cedric, or Harry — being more on the nerdy side of the spectrum —, but he knew his body needed the movement to conserve its good functioning, and yoga offered him a good moving time without the excessive sweating and aftermath aching.
Still in bed, Ember seemed to be sleeping, even if Nicolás knew he wasn’t. The Wampus Cat simply laid in there, relishing in the silence, and soaked on the last vestiges of Nicolás’ warmth on the covers.
Nearing the end of the morning’s session, while Nicolás was doing his last minute of Lotus Pose, Ember’s head snapped up, eyes fixed on the door, and Nicolás knew that something was off.
Without calling for him, Ember leaped off the bed and ran to scratch the door. With quick steps, Nicolás got up and opened it for him. The Wampus Cat crossed to the other side of the hall, scratching at Harry’s door.
Trusting in Ember’s instincts, Nicolás pushed Harry’s door open, finding the younger boy on his hands and knees on the mattress. His breathing was shallow and loud, and even with the little light that permeated the curtains at such an hour, Nicolás could see he was sweating. But more worrying, he was pressing one of his hands against the lightning bolt scar on his forehead
“Little One?” Nicolás called out, because, in his pain, Harry hadn’t noticed his entry.
“N-Nico,” Harry groaned. The boy swallowed hard as he raised his eyes.
“Little One, what happened?” Nicolás asked, walking to sit in front of Harry. Before he arrived, Ember had already leaped into the bed, rubbing his forehead against Harry’s shoulder.
“I — I don’t — I —” he groaned. “It hurts,” he pressed the palm of his hand on his scar.
“Hurts?” Nicolás asked; Harry nodded. With his hand, he brushed away the sweat-drenched hair stuck to Harry’s forehead. “How much?”
“It burns,” Harry provided.
“Wait here,” said Nicolás. He leaped to his feet and bolted to the ground floor towards the kitchen. It was very early, and surprisingly, even Abu Pedro was resting; the last thing he wanted was to wake anyone up. Only if he couldn’t alleviate Harry’s pain would he raise them from their slumber.
On the far wall, next to the stove, they had their first aid kit. It was magically enlarged, and it contained all the kinds of potions, tonics, and balms you could need for a house emergency. Nicolás took a small phial with analgesic potion and a cold balm Abu Angela had made for any burning and ran back to Harry’s room. Luckily, his bare feet made little sound on the floor.
He handed the black potion to Harry. “Drink it, it’ll help with the pain,” he said, opening the flask of balm. As Harry drank the potion — not without a small grimace at its not-so-pleasant taste —, Nicolás rubbed the balm over the lightning bolt marred on the boy's forehead.
It was long moments as Harry breathed and the potion and balm did their intended effect. When Nicolás was ready to bolt for Abu Angela to take care of Harry’s pain, the younger boy exhaled relieved.
“Thank you,” Harry sighed. The wrinkles of pain completely off his countenance, and his brow now relaxed.
“So… bad dream?” Nicolás offered.
Harry closed his eyes, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. “I… yeah.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
Harry looked around the room but ended up sighing. “It was about… Voldemort.”
Okay, that shouldn’t really come as a surprise. When has any of Harry’s problems not been related to that git?
“Want to tell me about it?” Nicolás asked; Harry shook his head, reclining his forehead against Nicolás’ shoulder, his hand scratching Ember’s head. By the looks of him, Harry clearly wasn’t ready to talk about it. “Or… you could let me see it, if you don’t want to talk.”
After a moment Harry raised his head and nodded, avoiding eye contact.
Nicolás cupped Harry’s cheeks, and using his Legilimency, he extended his mind’s eye, reaching for Harry’s and entering his Little One’s mind. What came next was not exactly reassuring. In fact, it was any antonym that the Oxford Dictionary could offer.
He seemed to take an omniscient place, watching how everything developed in front of his eyes.
They were in an old decayed house, it had probably been, long ago, a handsome-looking manor. Two voices were speaking, one was a cold, creepy voice that Nicolás didn’t recognize, but Harry did. It belonged to Voldemort. The other voice was a female one, it was warmer, but it had a sadistic edge to it.
When the image focused better, Nicolás saw the two figures speaking. One was the woman, standing tall with a fire at her back. Her head and face were covered with a long black hood, but Nicolás saw small bits of black skin with disarrayed patches of white skin across it. The other figure, who was facing the fire, was placed in what seemed to be a chair, its back to the woman, and wrapped in a black cover; it was the size of a child, but it was actually Voldemort in his current form.
In their conversation, they revealed having killed someone. Berta Jorkins. The name rang a bell in Nicolás mind, but he couldn't quite place it. Perhaps he heard it from his mom? And who was this Nagini Voldemort mentioned?
After mocking their most recent murder, Voldemort said this Nagini had found a muggle inside the house eavesdropping on them. Said muggle was forced to come before them by what was probably the largest snake Nicolás had ever seen. Roughly twelve feet long, as thick as one of Cedric's thighs, and as dark as the night. Nagini was the snake.
With a bravery that crossed the stupid, the old muggle demanded to be faced by Voldemort. When the woman turned the chair, the man screamed at the sight, but all Nicolás could see were evil snake-like eyes floating in darkness. The darkness raised a wand and with a flash of green light — the Killing Curse — he killed the man. And as the man's stiff body fell, the dream ended.
When he came back to the outside world, Nicolás found Harry looking at him with wide teary eyes, desperately reaching out to him for answers and guidance. But Nicolás was only sixteen, and at the moment, he held no answers for his Little One.
He knew that even if Harry wanted answers, it wasn’t what he needed. He seemed drowsy — as his half-slit eyes told — and the pain in his scar took a toll on him; the analgesic’s only secondary effect was sleepiness.
Nicolás knew what Harry needed.
With gentle hands on his shoulders, he helped Harry to get his back on the mattress. He lay beside him, bringing Harry towards his chest, where the boy snuggled, seeming smaller than ever. Ember moved to recline against his back. And like that, enveloped in familial warmth from all sides, Harry fell into another slumber in only seconds, muttering a barely audible “Thank you.”
It would be three hours later that they would be awakened by an overexcited Caelum so they could get ready for the Quidditch World Cup.
After waking up from their impromptu nap, and only after Harry confirmed the burning pain in his scar had gone away, did Nicolás leave Harry to bathe — after making sure the boy's bag was ready, of course. He put Harry's bag in front of the boy's bedroom door and went to make up his, leaving it in front of his own bedroom door.
By the time he reached the ground floor, everyone was up.
Caelum was running around like an eager puppy, dragging and showing his father around the library; he was probably making sure Uncle Sirius was up to date with the latest in Quidditch for the World Cup — Uncle Sirius followed diligently and with the most rapt attention Nicolás remembered in him, as if each of his son's words came from God himself.
It was good to see his cousin and uncle like that. After Uncle Sirius had been sent to Azkaban — when Nicolás and Caelum were around three —, Caelum had had the hardest time coping with that loss and with Nicolás, he had swayed from that mourning.
After Uncle Sirius escaped from Azkaban and hid it from Caelum, the boy had been pretty rightfully resented by it. But that seemed to be water under the bridge by now, and Nicolás couldn't help but feel thankful for that. Caelum seemed as comfortable with his father as he did when they were babes, and it warmed Nicolás' heart.
He passed the hall and into the kitchen. Not without seeing his father and Regulus sitting at the dining table.
For someone who had played Quidditch in his school years, Regulus didn’t really seem thrilled about the Quidditch World Cup. He sat beside Remus, both men sipping tea calmly and reading diligently.
On his father's hands was a large muggle book Nicolás had gifted him a few months ago, The Case-Book of Sherlock Holmes. In Regulus was a copy of The Darkest Arts For Your Household he brought from Grimmauld Place.
Inside the kitchen, Abu Angela was striding around with agility. She and the house elves Whisker, Fizzlet, and Twinkly were finishing the last bits of a large breakfast for no less than thirteen people. Abu Pedro was coming down the stairs, all the ready bags floating behind him as he walked calmly; he left them all by the fireplace and ruffled Nicolas' hair as he entered the kitchen.
His mother and Aunt María were nowhere to be seen, for they were at the Ministry, finishing the last direction of their emergency graveyard shift as the head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and the Head of the Auror Office — post Aunt María only accepted after Fudge compromised to get them all the best seats for the upcoming match; the Minister, desperate to bury the whole scandal with the clearance of Uncle Sirius' name, was more than eager to agree. They were the most overworked in their household, but they had made sure to have time to watch the match.
Once breakfast was ready, Regulus and Remus moved the large table to the backyard, while Abu Pedro and Abu Angela levitated the food. Soon, breakfast was served. The long table had large platters filled with the family’s favorite types of sandwiches: turkey, sausage, egg, bacon, grilled cheese, and chicken. There were portions of cut fruit: apple, pineapple, pear, and strawberry. And for beverage, they had, as any respectable Colombian family would, hot chocolate.
As everyone was about to take their seat, Carolina and María came back. Everyone felt when they crossed the house's magical wards, and soon they strode into the backyard.
“Dad, I hate my job!” Aunt María whined when she came close to the table.
“You’ve been saying that since you started working, my dear,” Abu Pedro chuckled.
“I hate my boss,” Carolina and María said in unison as twins tend to do.
“We all do, dears, we all do,” muttered Abu Angela, placing the dishes on the table as the house elves placed the cutlery.
After greeting their parents, both women went to their families. Carolina hugged and kissed Nicolás and Remus before taking her seat next to her husband; Remus was quick to rub his wife's back. Aunt María did the same with Caelum and Sirius, sitting next to Sirius.
Once the house elves took their seats, everyone dived into the food amidst small talk.
“Okay, Cardonas!” declared Abu Pedro standing up once the plentiful breakfast was gone. The house elves were already snapping fingers to make the left silverware disappear into the kitchen. “Wash your teeth and grab your bags, the fireplace awaits! We must get to the Weasleys before picking up the Diggorys and right to the Quidditch World Cup!”
“Reggie, dear, come,” Abu Angela prompted while walking inside. The entire Wizarding World considered Regulus Black to be dead, and they wanted to keep it that way. Regulus had suggested staying home, but they refused to allow that, so they devised a brilliant plan: give Regulus Polyjouice Potion with the hair of a random muggle.
Everyone rushed inside. Nicolás, Caelum, and Harry washed their teeth at the same time before running to the fireplace, where all the adults stood waiting for them, including Regulus, who now looked like a twenty-two-year-old unknown man with blond hair, no scars on his face or body, and no Dark Mark on his forearm.
Abu Pedro grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and threw it right into the alight fireplace. “The Burrow!” he called out and the fire turned green.
“Yes? Who is it?” called a voice from the fire. Mr. Weasley.
“Good morning, Arthur!” greeted Abu Pedro. “You ready for us?”
“Pedro!” said Mr. Weasley. “Please, do come, we just finished getting ready.”
“You heard our host,” said Abu Angela, walking to the fire. “In a line, if you will,” she instructed like only someone with a story of teaching would, before entering the green fire and into the Weasleys’ place. Abu Pedro followed right behind, followed by Regulus, Caelum, Nicolás, and Harry, and at last, the two other couples.
The Weasleys’ house, The Burrow, was a pretty small one — considering how many of them there were —, but it was very homely and welcoming. You could tell it was a very lived house, filled with endless memories and family moments.
In only seconds the kitchen was overcrowded by the Cardonas, who quickly moved to the living room. Mr. Weasley greeted them, dressed in what Nicolás assumed to be his best effort to look like a muggle, which was… not very good.
“Weasleys!” Mr. Weasley called out. “Our guests arrived!”
“Caelum! Nico!” Fred and George Weasley rushed to them, embracing them and dragging them away. Nicolás heard his grandfather introduce a Polyjuiced Regulus as his distant nephew; Ginny, Ron, and Hermione also rushed to greet Harry while Mrs. Weasley talked fascinated about the fantastic newspaper upheaval Rita Skeeter had created to storm the Ministry of Magic because of Sirius’ case.
Fred and George took them up some stairs and into a small room. “Did you bring it?” they asked anxiously.
From his bag, Nicolás took out a smaller bag, one whose inside he had magically enlarged — it was probably intended for them to hide something from their mother; they had been obsessed with the idea of creating magical prank products, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, and Nicolás didn’t need to be a seer to know how opposed their mother would be to that. From his bag, Caelum took out some clothes he had offered to bring, some denim jackets and slacks.
“Sweet!” The twins whispered, taking the articles from them. “How much is it?” they asked in unison.
Nicolás rolled his eyes. The thing with the Weasleys was that they lacked in the money department — only their father worked, and they had far too many children and no family inheritance like other magic families; they liked to pretend it was no problem.
They were a very, very proud race who refused to receive any kind of help, seeing it more as pitiful charity and getting more offended than grateful for it.
Nicolás knew they would never receive those things if they said they were mere gifts, so instead, he said, “Are you kidding me? Those are your early Christmas gifts.”
“You better don’t expect anything else come December,” Caelum added as they walked out of the room and back to the others.
“Bill, Charlie, and Percy will join us later at the tent,” Mr. Weasley was talking.
“I’ll make sure to send them around midday,” Mrs. Weasley said as she kissed her family goodbye. “Well, have a lovely time, and behave yourselves,” she said, looking at the twins specifically.
Nicolás was impressed they had managed to keep the magical bag hidden from their mother’s instincts. And so, their sixteen-person group departed.
“Two hundred Portkeys placed around Britain,” said Mr. Weasley as they all started to walk. “The nearest one to us is at the top of Stoatshead Hill. You sure you can make the journey?” he asked Abu Pedro jokingly.
“Oh, please, Arthur, I’m the age of your father at his prime,” Abu Pedro chuckled.
This made Mr. Weasley laugh as Abu Pedro and Abu Angela started to tell tales about Septimus Weasley, and his wife, Cedrella, who had actually been a Black — this meant that the Weasleys were actually related to the Black family, a.k.a. Uncle Sirius, Regulus, and Caelum.
It was a good thing that the weather was rather cold; at least Nicolás was grateful, he wasn’t going to arrive sweating to greet Cedric.
Finally, over half an hour later, they reached the top of the hill, with most of their lot out of breath. Abu Pedro instantly found the Portkey the Ministry had left for them—a large tire.
“Over here, Arthur! Over here, son, we’ve got it!” it was Amos Diggory, Cedric’s father, walking towards them with Cedric by his side. Nicolás had to stop for a moment to gather his wit, Cedric had no right looking that handsome in the morning.
“Mr. and Mrs. Cardona, it’s a pleasure to see you,” Amos greeted Abu Pedro and Abu Angela, shaking their hands. “Mrs. Carolina—”
“Oh, please, Amos,” Carolina shook Amos’ hand, “We’re off work, relax. Cedric, dear, how have you been?”
“Very good, thanks,” said Cedric blushing. “Hi, guys,” he greeted the rest with a hand wave.
“I think you already know my son,” Carolina said, pushing a blushing Nicolás forward.
“Oh, dear, but I do,” said Amos with a large smile, shaking Nicolás’ hand. “Not as well as Cedric, huh, but with how much he speaks of him, me and my wife know it all,” he chuckled good-naturedly.
“Dad!” Cedric hissed, cheeks completely red. Everyone around them chuckled.
His mother winked at him, and deliberately, she diverted the adult's attention by creating a discussion about the patrols that would take place at the match; for an event of this magnitude, hundreds upon hundreds of wizards and witches would have to work their asses off for it.
Getting the message, Nicolás finally approached his boyfriend.
"Hi," he said. What else was he supposed to say when his breath was stuck in his throat? Cedric looked effortlessly perfect; it was his second nature. He wore black jeans, a yellow t-shirt with a smiling sun, a bomber jacket, and black Vans; the last two items gifted to him by Nicolás on his last birthday.
“Hi,” Cedric retorted with a wide smile that brought to life the dimples on his cheeks.
“They’ll never let us live this, you know,” said Nicolás pointing at his back, where all the teenagers had their eyes on them like the spectators of a stage play.
“Well, I’m glad not to be one of the single ones, you know,” said Cedric leaning down.
As if by instinct, Nicolás arms wrapped around the boy’s neck as he got on his tippy toes, “I’m glad too,” he whispered, and their lips met.
It was a short chaste kiss — it held nothing to their snogging sessions —, and the entire hill was filled with oohs, ahhs, whistles, cheering, and mocking kissing sounds — courtesy of the Weasley twins — as the two overly flushed boys separated.
“Well, if the lovebirds see it fit, we should get going,” said Remus, smiling widely at his son's flushed face.
Abu Pedro took mercy on him, and with a barely concealed grin of his own, he levitated the large tire for everyone to hold on.
Amos Diggory, who had been too immersed in his son's tales, seemed to finally look more intently at all the gathered there, because for the first time, he seemed to notice Harry standing next to Carolina, holding to her arm as he spoke with Ron and Hermione.
“I thought you only had one son,” Amos asked innocently.
Carolina chuckled. “I didn’t birth him but he's legally my son, too,” she provided. “Harry.”
“Merlin’s beard,” said Amos, his eyes widening. “Harry? Harry Potter?”
“Er — yeah,” said Harry.
“Ced’s talked about you, of course,” said Amos. “Told us all about playing against you last year... I said to him, I said — Ced, that’ll be something to tell your grandchildren, that will... You beat Harry Potter!”
Okay, call him overbearing and overprotective, but Nicolás didn’t like the way Amos made that sound.
“Harry fell off his broom, Dad,” Cedric muttered looking embarrassed at the family, and apologetically to Nicolás. “I told you... it was an accident...”
“Yes, but you didn’t fall off, did you?” roared Amos genially, slapping Cedric on his back. “Always modest, our Ced, always the gentleman... but the best man won, I’m sure Harry’d say the same, wouldn’t you, eh? One falls off his broom, one stays on, you don’t need to be a genius to tell which one’s the better flier!”
Okay, how much can your relationship last if you don’t quite like your boyfriend’s dad? Nicolás had only had some quick encounters with Amos at King’s Cross, and he had already understood how much the man idolized Cedric, but this was getting overly ridiculous and disrespectful, and looking at his family, Nicolás knew everyone was thinking the same.
Abu Pedro forced a cough. “It’s near time,” he checked his watch. “Everyone, hold on to the tire.”
As if it had been waiting for them, the moment the last hand was pressed against the rubber of the tire, the Portkey was activated. There was a whirling sensation before they materialized in another place. At his side, Harry fell forward, but Nicolás grabbed him by the back of the neck before he hit the floor. Caelum had grabbed Ron, Hermione had held onto Abu Angela, Ginny to María, Remus and Sirius held the Weasley twins, and the rest were still standing.
“Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill,” said a voice.
In front of them was a pair of tired and grumpy-looking wizards, one of whom was holding a large gold watch, the other a thick roll of parchment and a quill. Both were dressed as Muggles, though very inexpertly.
“Good morning, Basil,” Carolina greeted, levitating the tire into a large bin with used Portkeys.
“Good morning, Mrs. Cardona,” said the wizard wearily with a short bow.
“Long night I take it?” asked Aunt María.
The man blinked lethargically, “You have no idea, Mrs. Cardona” he finally seemed to look at Abu Pedro right, “Mr. Cardona! It’s an honor to have you here, I’m sure the Minister will receive you later, there aren’t many foreign Ministers coming tonight.”
“It’s alright, Basil, tell us where to find our campsites and we’ll be out of your hair, I’m sure you could use the rest.”
“Hang on,” the man checked his parchment list, “Cardona… and Weasley, right next to each other in the first field you come to; ask for Mr. Roberts. Diggory… second field, ask for Mr. Payne.”
“Thank you, Basil,” said Carolina, patting the man’s shoulder as they left.
Twenty minutes later they reached the start of the campsites, where hundreds and hundreds of tents could be seen. When they reached the entrance to the first field, Amos turned to his son.
“I suppose you’ll stay with Nicolás for the night?”
Cedric blushed and scratched the side of his neck, “Yes, Dad, we’ll see tomorrow,” and with a hug, Amos left to find his tent, while the rest approached the man in the doorway.
Mr. Roberts, the administrator, was a muggle. Mr. Weasley had reserved two tents, one for the boys and one for the girls; the Cardonas had intended to rent one, of the largest size, but Cornelius Fudge made sure to take care of it. Mr. Robberts asked for the payment of the Weasleys' tents, and as Mr. Weasley struggled with some muggle money in his hand, Abu Pedro walked to the man and paid for everything. Mr. Robberts handed him the change and a map of the campsite as Mr. Weasley started to argue to pay Abu Pedro back—which he profusely refused.
They walked a little further until they reached their tents, which were right next to each other.
They had tried to argue against it, but Cornelius Fudge was clearly desperate to be in their good graces, for their tent was not only the largest one in the entire field but also had an equipped front garden and a small fountain.
Right next to it was an empty space with a small sign hammered into the ground that read WEEZLY. The tents were on the floor to be put by hand. After great reluctance from Mr. Weasley, Carolina, María, Sirius, and Remus — who had gone many times camping muggle-style back in their Hogwarts years —, put the Weasleys’ two tents up.
They parted ways and entered their respective tents.
Their tent was very spacious, and its interior could be easily confused with that of a normal house. It consisted of two levels, and everything was furnished; the ground floor had a bathroom, two bedrooms, the kitchen and dining area, and the living area, while the second floor had three bedrooms and a bathroom.
Carolina and Remus, and María and Sirius would take the two bedrooms on the ground floor. Abu Angela and Abu Pedro would take one of the bedrooms above, the other would be for Nicolás, Caelum, Cedric, and Regulus, and the final one for Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny—who Mr. Weasley reluctantly allowed to stay with them.
Everyone left their bags next to the beds and walked down for a quick drink. Easily, Nicolás convinced Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny to go outside to bring some water — the young ones completely ignored the fact that they had their own fountain just outside the tent.
After the youngsters were away, Nicolás called for an emergency meeting in the living area. Everyone looked at him anxiously as he related Harry’s dream with Voldemort and the pain in his scar. It was then, at the mention of Bertha Jorkins, that Nicolás remembered where he heard the name; she was a worker from the Ministry who had been missing for weeks now—and now they knew she was dead, killed by Voldemort.
After he finished, the entire place turned into the pacing field for all the anxious adults; Caelum sat with Nicolás, pale-faced.
“What are we going to do now?” asked Caelum, face in his hands.
Abu Pedro walked up to him, resting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing it. “Nothing. You two will do nothing. You are children and you have school; you’ll go to school and be children.”
“I don't think that's how it works, Abu. We try to do that each year and look at how it works out,” said Nicolás. It wasn’t a lie, just two years ago Voldemort’s sixteen-year-old self had come out of a diary and tried to kill them, and last year Peter Pettigrew had reappeared after over a decade of being considered dead and tried to escape to search for Voldemort.
“There’s nothing to do as of today,” insisted Abu Pedro. “Try to enjoy it as much as you can but keep your eyes and ears open at all times.”
Everyone was tense, Voldemort had clearly stated he would send someone to take and bring Harry to him so he could kill him, and they would be damned if they let that happen.
Remus and Abu Pedro decided to put a few extra wards around the tent just to be on the safe side.
When Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny came back, they all left the tent to gather with the Weasleys to eat lunch. Bill, Charlie, and Percy had already arrived by Apparition. Remus and Sirius brought the tables and chairs, Abu Angela and Carolina had prepared some food and Mrs. Weasley had sent some more with her children; all in all, food was plentiful for their lot, and the ambiance helped the family to think of something else but Voldemort.
Halfway through their lunch, Mr. Weasley jumped to his feet, “Aha!” he said. “The man of the moment! Ludo!” he greeted, waving excitedly.
Ludo Bagman was dressed in robes with black and yellow stripes that reminded Nicolás of Hufflepuff House and had a large wasp on the chest of his shirt (which had the same straps as his robes). He had clearly been very well built once upon a time, and now his robes stretched over his large belly.
“Arthur, old man,” Ludo puffed as he reached the campfire, “what a day, eh? What a day! Could we have asked for more perfect weather? A cloudless night coming... and hardly a hiccough in the arrangements... Not much for me to do!”
He stopped on his feet looking at Abu Pedro, Aunt María, and Carolina, before hurrying to greet them.
“But, oh my, Minister Fudge did mention you’d be coming, Mr. Cardona, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he shook Abu Pedro’s hand, “Mrs. Cardona and Mrs. Cardona, it’s not very usual to find two heads of department and a foreign Minister in a single family unit, huh.”
“I like to think it runs in the family,” said Abu Pedro good-naturedly.
After the introductions of the children were finished, Ludo tried to convince Mr. Weasley to gamble on the bets for the outcome of the match. It ended with the Weasley twins betting thirty-seven Galleons — all their savings except for the money they earned from Nicolás last term —, fifteen Sickles, and three Knuts that Ireland wins but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch.
The conversation turned to Bertha Jorkins, and Nicolás could see how uncomfortable it made his family the fact that they knew Bertha had been killed by Voldemort but couldn’t mention it.
Ludo was mentioning how Barty Crouch, the head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation said they couldn’t spend anyone to look for her when suddenly, by their fire, a wizard Apparated. He was an elderly man — probably a couple of years younger than Abu Pedro —, dressed like an elegant muggle businessman. It was Barty Crouch Senior himself.
In not an exact display of politeness, the man came demanding Ludo’s presence to solve some problem with the Bulgarians when Percy, in a nice display of bootlicking, offered him to stay and drink tea with them, only to be called Weatherby; Nicolás, Caelum, Cedric, and the Weasley twins all chocked on their tea at that.
“Carolina, María,” Mr. Crouch greeted his fellow heads of departments in a not entirely welcoming voice. “Pedro, it’s been quite some time,” he spoke tenserly and extended his hand.
That was to be expected. Back in the First Wizarding War, Abu Pedro and Mr. Crouch were the main contenders everyone expected to become British Minister for Magic. The imprisonment and disownment of Mr. Crouch's only son, Barty Crouch Jr. put him in a bad public light and Abu Pedro left the UK after the end of the war with his family. Now, Mr. Crouch was still the head of a department in the Ministry, but Abu Pedro had been the Deputy Minister and most recently ascended to become the Minister for Magic of Colombia.
Abu Pedro, never one to be discourteous, no matter how much his interlocutor deserved it, shook Mr. Crouch's hand with a smile.
Drinking his tea, Mr. Crouch started to talk with Mr. Weasley about something related to magical flying carpets, but Nicolás wasn’t really interested in it. There was something about the way Mr. Crouch behaved that put Nicolás on edge.
He tried to not give too much attention to his family — not that anyone wanted to speak with him—, and he was overly tense, sending looks at Abu Pedro and Aunt María very constantly, almost as if... as if he had done something...
Finally, Mr. Crouch demanded for Ludo to leave with him before he spilled the beans about something coming up at Hogwarts.
“What’s happening at Hogwarts?” Caelum, Nicolás, and Caelum asked at the same time.
The adults merely looked at them tensely, and said, “You’ll find out soon enough.”
“It’s classified information, until such time as the Ministry decides to release it,” said Percy stiffly. “Mr. Crouch was quite right not to disclose it.”
“Oh, shut up, Weatherby,” said Fred and Caelum, rolling their eyes as the others laughed.
The clock ticked, and the hour of the match approached; salesmen Apparated to the campsite with large carts filled with all kinds of souvenirs. Nicolás, of course, dragged Cedric, Caelum, Harry, Ron, and Hermione — Ginny had chosen to stay with her family — to take a look and spend money.
“Hey, kiddos!” Nicolás called out as he and Cedric approached the youngsters—Caelum had stayed a little far away talking with some guys from the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. “Here you go!” he handed them three Omniculars which could replay action, slow everything down, and flash up a play-by-play breakdown; he also handed them detailed programs—for which Hermione was much more excited.
After a quick goodbye and ruffling Harry's hair, Nicolás kept dragging Cedric through some carts more, trying to find something attractive enough.
“What do you think of this one?” he asked, showing Cedric a small figurine of Viktor Krum which walked backward and forward in his hand with a scowl.
“You wanna start a collection?” Cedric asked with a raised brow.
“Honey, I’m not a Quidditch fan, you know. I was thinking of buying a few of them and giving them to Neville.”
“Neville?”
“Longbottom,” Nicolás clarified. “He wanted to come but his Gran didn’t allow it, I think he’ll appreciate it; plus, he did fantastic at our tutoring sessions — he even passed his end-of-year potions exam!”
“Oh, wow, you really take those tutoring sessions seriously, huh?” said Cedric with a smile.
Blushing, Nicolás grabbed three other figurines and paid for them, dragging Cedric to buy some candies to take back to the family’s tent.
They arrived back with candies and green rosettes — to support the Irish team — for everyone; Mr. Weasley was carrying an Irish flag.
And then a deep, booming gong sounded somewhere beyond the woods, and at once, green and red lanterns blazed into life in the trees, lighting a path to the field.
“It’s time!” said Mr. Weasley, looking as excited as any of them.
“Come on, everyone, moving!” urged Abu Pedro.
•─────⋅☾☽⋅─────•
They all hurried down the forest, through a lantern-lit path; all around them, thousands of steps could be heard as everyone moved in the same direction. Twenty minutes later, amidst talk and joking — with Abu Pedro wholeheartedly explaining how proud he was that the Colombian team had defeated the British one, even if they didn’t classify for the final —, they found themselves in the shadow of a gigantic stadium with the capacity to host a hundred thousand wizards and with layer upon layer of Muggle Repelling Charms.
“Prime seats!” said the Ministry witch at the entrance when she checked their tickets. “Top Box! Straight upstairs, the Minister will be most excited to receive you, Mr. and Mesdames Cardona; you too, Arthur, go as high as you can.”
When they reached the Top Box, they found a house elf shaking in a chair. Harry mistakenly confused the elf with Dobby, but this one was a female. The elf was covering her face and introduced herself as Winky.
She told Harry an update about Dobby; apparently, Dobby talked about Harry all the time and was now demanding wages for his work. Then, she explained how terrified she was of heights — reason why she was shaking and covering her face — but she sat there to obey her master, to save him the seat.
It made Nicolás’ blood boil to see how many wizards still treated their house elves as second-level beings. He thought back to Whisker, Fizzlet, and Twinkly, and how glad he was to know that his family’s house elves were safe and warm back home. He knew that treating house elves as family members, as his family did, was not common amongst magical folk, but to be constantly reminded of how many of them treated them in an inhuman manner was vexatious.
“Winky is wishing she is back in master’s tent, Harry Potter, but Winky does what she is told. Winky is a good house-elf.”
“Hey, Winky,” said Nicolás, crouching down to the elf’s level. “Did your master tell you you had to look ahead?”
She thought for a moment, before shaking her head. “No, Sir.”
Nicolás took off his green rosette and one of the Krum figurines he bought and placed them on Winky’s chair. “Look, why don’t you turn around and play with this? It sings and walks and all. That way you can carry on your master’s orders and entertain yourself, huh?”
“Winky’s not supposed to entertain herself, Sir,” she said, eying the items with restrained interest.
“Well, your master didn’t say anything against it, did he?”
“I supposes no,” said Winky, grabbing the Krum figurine and turning her back to the height of the stadium. “Winky thanks you, Sir…?”
“You can call me Nico,” said Nicolás, softly patting the top of Winky’s head before walking away. Abu Pedro nodded at him with pride in his eyes and ruffled his hair; he was always glad to see people remembering the kindness deserved by magical creatures.
Abu Pedro, his mother, Aunt María, and Mr. Weasley were shaking hands with all the wizards and witches in their box; all of them high-ranking and fellow heads of departments in the Ministry.
When Cornelius Fudge arrived, he walked straight to Abu Pedro.
“Pedro! What an honor to have you here tonight!” he said in a fidgety manner. Carolina’s comment about him being Minister only because her father didn’t want the post still haunted him probably.
“Carolina, María, I’m so glad you could make it,” he shook their hands politely, before turning to Uncle Sirius with a more reserved look. “Mr. Black, glad to see you,” he said with forced enthusiasm.
“Yeah, I imagine,” Uncle Sirius muttered with a sardonic smile; you could almost forget Fudge had called the Dementors to kiss him.
“I don’t think we’ve been introduced?” Fudge asked looking at Nicolás; of course, the only time they crossed direct paths was when Nicolás dropped Pettigrew’s unconscious body at Fudge’s feet to save Uncle Sirius — the Minister probably didn't even notice him later in the Hospital Wing when his mother and aunt were verbally destroying him and Dumbledore.
“Thankfully not,” said Nicolás under his breath when they shook hands; his father and Uncle Sirius snickered behind him, but Fudge didn’t hear him or wisely decided to ignore the comment.
When he saw Harry, next to Carolina, Fudge smiled widely, “Oh, Harry, boy,” and shook his hand as if they were old friends; Harry went stiff. “I see he’s still staying with you,” he added, remembering how they had taken Harry from the Dursleys without their unnecessary consent.
“Of course he is, Fudge, he’s my son,” said Carolina, looking the Minister defiantly in the eye, not caring that he was her boss.
“S-son? What could you mean by that?”
“Harry consented to be adopted by me over the last term,” she said with a smile. “As of now, he’s my legal son.”
“I see,” Fudge muttered, before turning to the man at his side, the Bulgarian Minister for Magic. “Harry Potter, you know… Harry Potter... oh come on now, you know who he is... the boy who survived You-Know-Who... you do know who he is —”
The Bulgarian wizard suddenly spotted Harry’s scar and started gabbling loudly and excitedly, pointing at it. Then, Fudge mentioned that Winky’s master was none other than Mr. Crouch, as if Nicolás needed any other reason to dislike that man.
“Ah, and here’s Lucius!” said Fudge.
Lucius Malfoy, Draco, Draco’s mother, Narcissa, and Dorian walked up to them, looking as horribly unwelcoming as they did every time Nicolás saw them together.
Mr. Malfoy, unasked, commented about the Weasleys' financial situation, and Fudge, who wasn’t listening, proclaimed how Mr. Malfoy had made a very generous donation to St. Mungo’s.
Malfoy popped out his chest and looked them down his nose when Abu Pedro spoke, polite as always.
“Well, I would expect no less from someone who needs to atone for his past.”
“Pedro Cardona,” said Mr. Malfoy slowly. “What a pleasant surprise, but dear, what could you possibly mean by that?”
“Oh, my dear Lucius, I trust everyone intelligent enough to discern that,” Abu Pedro retorted, looking down at Mr. Malfoy’s left forearm, covered in his robes, before looking up and smiling, he winked.
Sirius, who was standing next to him smiled widely, looking at Narcissa. “Hello, cousin,” he said loudly. Next to him, Polyjuiced Regulus looked at Narcissa with nostalgia; unlike Sirius, he did share a good relationship with her back when they were young.
Narcissa sent him a frosty look, before remembering her training and nodding. “Sirius.”
“What a pleasure to see you after so long,” he said, “beautiful as always.
“Thank you, would like to say the same, but I don’t reckon your time in Azkaban did you any favor.”
“Oh, no dear, it didn’t,” said Sirius with mocked gloom, before a smile broke through his face. “But your dearest sister sent her greetings; her cell was right next to mine.”
With rage storming her grey eyes, Narcissa Malfoy grabbed her son’s arm and dragged him forward, Mr. Malfoy who had been looking at Hermione as someone looks down a bug, followed, trying to drag Dorian with him, but the boy pushed aside, walking to Nicolás and Caelum.
“Sorry for that,” he muttered.
“Never mind what the git you have for a godfather does,” Caelum reassured him. “We saved you a seat.”
With a grateful smile, Dorian took his seat in between Nicolás and Caelum. Ludo Bagman charged into the box and started the game.
“Ladies and gentlemen... welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!” the crowd came alive with a vigorous uproar of excitement. “And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce... the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!”
The Bulgarian team brought a hundred Veela who started to dance around the field. When he looked to his side, Nicolás noticed Harry was standing up, one of his legs on the wall of the box as if he was about to jump. Nicolás grabbed him by the back of his neck and brought him back to his seat as the music stopped and the dance ceased, making an angry male uproar to break through.
“W-what happened?” Harry asked.
Nicolás chuckled, gesturing to his side, where Dorian was also grabbing Caelum by the back of his shirt to prevent him from jumping towards the Veela. Next to Harry, Hermione was also grabbing a perplexed Ron.
“Such is the effect of Veela on people who are attracted to women,” Nicolás explained.
“And you’re not affected?” Harry asked.
“Nope,” said Nicolás with a smile.
“Why?” Harry asked before he realized. “Oh, right, are you…?”
“Gay? Not really, I don’t really feel attracted to men, you know, for the moment I only like my Cedric,” Nicolás explained. Harry seemed to have more questions, but Ludo Bagman called the Irish National Team Mascots.
This time, in a firework display, thousands of little Leprechauns flew around the field, making a rain of golden coins. Hundreds of wizards moved to collect the gold coins, completely ignoring or being ignorant to the fact that Leprechauns gold disappears after some hours.
After the display of the mascots, Bagman called forward both the Bulgarian and Irish Teams and the match started after the referee’s whistle blew.
Maybe Nicolás wasn’t the biggest Quidditch fan, really, he would only go when his boyfriend or family/friends played, but even he could admit this match was kind of exciting.
The Irish team started with far too much advantage over Bulgaria, scoring goal after goal. With a very smart maneuver, known as the Wronski Defensive Feint, Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker, was able to make the Irish Seeker crash into the ground, which bought his team some time.
In the end, seeing as his team had absolutely no hope of catching up and least of all winning, and choosing to end the match on his own terms, Krum decided to rush and grab the Golden Snitch, finishing the match. Bulgaria lost with 160 points against Ireland’s 170.
And like that, it turned out that the Weasley twins had made the perfect prediction for the match and won their risky gamble.
Ireland was handed the large Quidditch World Cup, and among singing, cheering, and an overall overexcitement, they made their way back to their tent.
•─────⋅☾☽⋅─────•
“Have you been practicing changing back and forth?” Nicolás asked taking off his shirt.
They had left the entire family to celebrate Ireland’s victory on the ground floor and went up to their room.
Cedric’s eyes travel around his chest before he answered with a distracted, “Uhm, I change my clothes daily.”
“What?”
“What what?”
Nicolás chuckled, “I meant your Animagus form, Ced.”
“Oh!” said Cedric, face completely red. “Of course! I knew you meant that,” Nicolás sent him a doubtful look, “but to answer, yes, I have, and I think I have control over it, completely. Well, almost… kind of.”
“I was thinking we could sleep together,” said Nicolás.
“Huh!?” Cedric choked on air.
Nicolás raised a brow, “I meant in our Animagus forms. I want to introduce yours to Sunstripe. I take it you haven’t named yours?”
Nicolás didn’t know if it was possible for Cedric to blush more; if he did, he would probably combust on the spot or something.
“No — no I haven’t named it, sorry,” Cedric scratched the back of his head. “But yeah, we can introduce them, I think.”
With a smile, Nicolás used a simple “Engorgio!” He made their bed bigger. With a deep breath, Cedric transformed into his Animagus form, shrinking until he was a honey badger. Smiling in endearment and mentioning how adorable he was, Nicolás picked him up and placed him on the bed. Next, he transformed into Sunstripe and climbed on the bed.
At first, the badger panicked at the sight of a lion, before remembering that badgers weren’t afraid of anything nor anyone, and started to growl and snap at him.
With whatever was the equivalent of a chuckle for a lion, Sunstripe used one of his large paws to pin the badger and started to lick his head.
It took a whole minute for the badger to finally understand that he wasn’t in danger and another whole minute to understand who Sunstripe was. Once he somehow understood that Sunstripe was actually Nicolás, he got all excited and jumped on his back, trying to ride the lion.
When the badger was tired of jumping all over Sunstripe, he nestled on the lion’s side and dozed off, snout buried in his chest. With his nose buried in the badger’s neck, Sunstripe started to doze off too, far too gone in Cedric’s familiar scent.
Almost an hour later, Sunstripe’s eyes opened slowly, and he looked around. Deep down in his bones, he felt a shift that brought him from his slumber. He noticed the singing around the campsite had died out.
Suddenly, “Nicolás! Cedric! Get up! Now!” the door was banged open, and in came Caelum’s desperate screams.
Sunstripe jumped to his feet and transformed back into Nicolás.
“What happened?!” he asked as the badger woke up and transformed back into Cedric, sitting on the bed and rubbing his eyes.
That was when both of them understood what happened. Not only had the singing outside died, but it had been replaced with screams, and the sound of people running.
“No time. Move!” Caelum screamed, moving to the room next door, Harry’s.
Nicolás and Cedric ran downstairs, finding all the adults hurryingly dressing themselves and with their wands in hand. They copied, putting out their wands.
“What’s happening?” Nicolás demanded.
Caelum came down with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Nicolás' mother yelled instead of answering, "Everyone outside!"
Quickly, everyone left the tent.
By the light of the few fires that were still burning, he could see people running away into the woods, fleeing something that was moving across the field toward them, something that was emitting odd flashes of light and noises like gunfire. Loud jeering, roars of laughter, and drunken yells were drifting toward them; then came a burst of strong green light, which illuminated the scene.
A crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wands pointing straight upward, was marching slowly across the field. Their heads were hooded, and their faces masked.
High above them, floating along in midair, four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes. It was as though the masked wizards on the ground were puppeteers, and the people above them were marionettes operated by invisible strings that rose from the wands into the air. Two of the figures were very small.
More wizards were joining the marching group, laughing and pointing up at the floating bodies. Tents crumpled and fell as the marching crowd swelled. Once or twice the marchers would blast a tent out of their way with their wand; several caught fire. The screaming grew louder.
The floating people were suddenly illuminated as they passed over a burning tent and Nicolás recognized one of them: Mr. Roberts, the campsite manager; it wasn't hard to theorize the other three to be his wife and children. One of the marchers below flipped Mrs. Roberts upside down with his wand; her nightdress fell down to reveal voluminous drawers, and she struggled to cover herself up as the crowd below her screeched and hooted with glee.
"Oh, God," Nicolás muttered, covering his mouth. He turned to his mother, "You can't let them—"
"We're going to stop it," she promised, and Nicolás knew his mother always kept her promises. "You and Caelum take Harry, Ron, and Hermione."
"Where to?"
"To the woods and stick together!" she kissed the top of his head and moved to the other adults.
"Carolina," Regulus called out in a gloomy voice. "Those are Death Eaters."
"How do you know?"
"Just be careful. I'll go with them," he gestured to the kids.
"Thank you," she squeezed Regulus' arm and ran in danger's direction with Remus, Sirius, María, Pedro, and Angela on her heels.
Nicolás and the others, guided by Regulus, ran in the other direction, straight into the woods. Many times, they tripped over; people all around them screamed as they ran. It was very easy to feel the fear and desperation in the environment.
They ran into a group of French teenagers. “Où est Madame Maxime? Nous l’avons perdue —”
Nicolás thought hard for a moment. “Courez dans cette direction, vous y serez en sécurité! ” he screamed over the noise, pointing ahead. Nodding thankfully, one of the girls started to run and the rest followed her.
Somewhere, on a turn, they ran into Dorian, who was dragging Draco by the arm. Draco was pale and couldn’t muster a single comment about what was happening; and not even Harry, Ron, or Hermione could start a verbal fight with him.
It was somewhere further into the woods that Harry realized he had dropped his wand. Nicolás and Cedric walked back with him illuminating the forest ground to search for it, but it didn’t appear to be anywhere.
A rustling noise nearby made all three of them jump. Winky the house-elf was fighting her way out of a clump of bushes nearby. She was moving in a most peculiar fashion, apparently with great difficulty; it was as though someone invisible was trying to hold her back.
“There is bad wizards about!” she squeaked distractedly as she leaned forward and labored to keep running. “People high — high in the air! Winky is getting out of the way!
And she disappeared into the trees on the other side of the path, panting and squeaking as she fought the force that was restraining her.
Not having found Harry’s wand, they followed and rejoined the rest. Further ahead they also run into Ludo Bagman, who wasn’t really on top of things, not even knowing about the Death Eater riot going on.
Finally, they reached a clearing that Regulus considered to be far away enough from trouble.
Suddenly, they heard the sound of someone staggering towards them. In a second, Regulus, Nicolás, Caelum, and Cedric had their wands pointed at the trees in which someone was standing. They couldn’t see the person, but even in the dead silence of the forest, they knew someone was there.
“Reveal yourself!” Regulus demanded.
But instead of doing that, without warning, the silence was rent by a voice unlike any they had heard in the woods; and it uttered, not a panicked shout, but an incantation, very well-known to its caster.
“MORSMORDRE!”
And from the wand the person held, a vast cloud of green smoke ascended to the sky, and once it hit it, it exploded, revealing a gigantic black skull from whose mouth a large serpent came out.
Nicolás felt a bucket of ice-cold water falling over him. That was the Dark Mark, and it had been conjured the way it hasn’t ever since the days of the war. Everywhere around them, at the sight of the mark, exploded in desperate and frightened screams.
“No—” Regulus muttered at his side, white-knuckle grip on his wand. But he wasn't looking at the Dark Mark in the sky, his eyes were trained where the caster stood, “Reveal yourself!” but the figure wasn’t coming to them, it was retreating. “Everyone, move!”
They ran ahead, out of the clearing, and came face-to-face with at least twenty wizards who had their wands at them.
Caelum and Regulus, thanks to their trained Quidditch instincts, screamed “DUCK!” Regulus barely had time to cast a shield around them as they got on the floor. All the wizards in front of them screamed “STUPEFY!” and a rain of stunning spells flew above their heads, creating enough wind to ruffle their hair.
•─────⋅☾☽⋅─────•
They ran in the opposite direction of the running and terrified crowd. At her side, María, as the head of the Auror Office, was calling each and every available body in proximity, ordering them towards the Death Eater mob who didn’t even notice their arrival.
Once they came into the clearing where the evil congregation stopped, they looked around, trying to come up with a plan.
“We need to get the Roberts away from there!” said María.
“I’ll get them!” said Sirius. “But I need you to part them away! Remus, cover me!”
Everyone nodded, pointing their wand ahead.
“Bombarda!” Carolina cried, and at the point where her wand was aimed — a small, opened space in between some Death Eaters — a large explosion broke out, sending flying at least ten Death Eaters.
“Ventus Tria!” her mother cried, and a large jet of wind erupted from the tip of her wand, sending another group of Death Eaters flying.
“Incarcerous!” her father cried, and one of the Death Eaters was wrapped in thick ropes, then, waving his wand, he used said man as a human club, and beat out of the way at least fifteen Death Eaters.
With a single “Stupefy!” María was able to completely knock out six Death Eaters; Carolina very often forgot just how strong her twin was, there was a reason she was a Hit Witch and now the head of the Auror Office. She then made one of the Death Eaters float and sent him forward, knocking down another group.
By this time, everyone in the mob had their eyes on them, and suddenly, the Roberts family was falling, all clustered together. Acting on his plan, Sirius Disapparated from the spot, and appeared in the spot where the family was falling, grabbing them and Dissaparating once more, only to reappear behind them.
Remus whirled around and cried, “Spongify!” and the spot of ground where Sirius fell with the Roberts family was turned into a sponge-like surface, where they landed safely.
Spells flew around them, some blocked by their shields, others missed in the heat of the moment, there was one moment, however, when Carolina felt her entire world tremble.
Her father stood with his back a tree trunk, five unconscious Death Eaters in front of him, when another one appeared, and pointing his wand at him, the Death Eater cried, “Avada Kedavra!”
A large jet of blinding green light shot from the wand’s tip. Carolina, her sister, and her mother all cried out at once, “NO!”
But when the blinding green light died, all that was left in the spot was the darkness of the shadow. Before Carolina could raise her wand against the man, a large lightning bolt passed right next to her face, straight from María’s wand, and hit the man on the chest, sending him to the ground in spasms.
Waving her arm, María kept sending more lightning bolts to the man, screaming “What have you done!?”
The man's body contorted as he screamed in pain, writhing like a slug bathed in salt.
In one of those strikes, the man’s mask was broken, revealing the face of none other than Lucius Malfoy. When María, tear-stricken raised her wand once more, the sky exploded in green, and for the first time in fourteen years, Carolina saw the Dark Mark looming in the sky.
By now the entire clearing was filled with Aurors and nobody moved for seconds. Suddenly, the Death Eaters, hurt or not, started to Disapparate — Malfoy amongst the first ones —, leaving behind those of them who had fallen in combat, at least twenty.
The family regrouped in the spot where Pedro had disappeared; there was no body. Confusion reigned over them as they looked around. Suddenly, a bodiless voice asked, “Is it safe now?”
“What?” Carolina asked perplexed.
Straight from the tree trunk, or better said, from the shadow of the tree, a man walked out. It was Zipa Tisquesusa, dressed in less formal robes than the ones he normally wore, with a jacket over them. With his hand, and from the shadow too, he brought Pedro, safe and sound.
And suddenly Carolina was able to breathe again. They all ran to hug him, relieved to see him safe.
“Old friend, you need to be more careful,” the Zipa said. “You’re lucky I was looking for you.” The man seemed tired, which was normal, shadow travel was something the Llanthu could do, but I took effort to master.
“How —?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he rushed, looking as some Aurors started to approach the family — others worked on disarming and manacling the fallen Death Eaters left behind. “I’ll find you another day,” and without saying anything else the man retreated back into the shadow and was gone.
María grabbed one of the Aurors close to her by the neck of his robes. “From where was the Dark Mark conjured?” she demanded.
The Auror trembled in her grip. He pointed forward in the direction the children had run. “There.”
Before she could think more of it, Carolina started to run in that direction, everyone else right behind her, all of them sharing the same urgency.
When she arrived at the clearing, there was a small congregation of people there, and one voice reached her ears.
“Do not lie, sir!” shouted Mr. Crouch. He held his wand high, pointing directly at Ron. “You have been discovered at the scene of the crime!”
“Barty!” María shouted as they reached the group. “You better put that damned wand down! We don’t threaten children!”
“I’m the one dealing with this!” Crouch argued, looking at her enraged. His eyes were popping out, making him look mad.
“And I am the head of the Auror Office!” María stood her ground, her wand pointed at him. “And it’s my people who deal with this stuff. Step. Back. Now.”
With a red face, Crouch let down his wand and stepped aside.
“Where did the Mark come from?” Carolina asked, making her way through the Ministry wizards and witches in the scene.
“Over there,” said Hermione shakily, pointing at the place where they had heard the voice. “There was someone behind the trees... they shouted words — an incantation —”
“Oh, stood over there, did they?” said Mr. Crouch, turning his popping eyes on Hermione now, disbelief etched all over his face. “Said an incantation, did they? You seem very well informed about how that Mark is summoned, missy —”
María rolled her eyes. “This is why these procedures are made by trained officers, Barty, you’re starting to sound like a deranged jackass,” she hissed, before turning to the others. “Go and make a round around the clearing!” she barked, and ten of the Aurors walked straight to the point Hermione had pointed and another ten started to walk around their clearing.
“We’re too late,” one of the witches who inspected the clearing called out. “They’ll have Disapparated.”
A few seconds later, they heard Amos shout. “Yes! We got them! There’s someone here! Unconscious! It’s — but — blimey . . .”
“Bring it here, Amos!” shouted Carolina.
Amos walked from the clearing with the unconscious body of a house elf and placed it at Crouch’s feet. It was his house elf, Winky.
“This — cannot — be,” said Crouch jerkily. “No —”
He moved quickly around Amos and strode off toward the place where he had found Winky.
“No point, Mr. Crouch,” Amos called after him. “There’s no one else there.”
But Crouch did not seem prepared to take his word for it. They could hear him moving around and the rustling of leaves as he pushed the bushes aside, searching. He was… searching for someone… someone right at the crime scene…
Amos explained how Winky was found with a wand in her hand, which was a violation of the Code of Wand Use. But that wand seemed very familiar.
Ludo Bagman Apparated next to them as Crouch came back from whatever futile search he was doing.
Amos used “Rennervate!” to bring Winky back from being stunned.
The house elf awoke slowly, looking around in confusion. As soon as she caught sight of the Dark Mark in the sky, she gave a gasp, looked wildly around the crowded clearing, and burst into terrified sobs.
“Elf!” said Mr. Diggory sternly. “Do you know who I am? I’m a member of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures!”
But Winky was in no state to give an answer. Carolina walked forward, getting annoyed at how these people were speaking to Winky.
"And I am your boss, Amos. You will speak to Winky as you do a wizard, or not speak at all," she said in a firm voice. “Now, step aside,” she ordered. Amos, recognizing his boss’ voice did as he was told. Carolina crouched on the floor to speak to Winky.
“Winky, as you can see, the Dark Mark has been conjured,” she said softly. “You were found in the place from where it came with a wand in your hands.”
“I — I — I is not doing it, ma’am!” Winky gasped. “I is not knowing how, ma’am!”
“You had this in your hand, Winky,” Carolina showed her the wand.
“Aunt Caro — that’s mine!” Harry said walking forward. Of course, that’s why it seemed so familiar.
Everyone in the clearing looked at him.
“That’s my wand!” said Harry. “I dropped it!” He looked at her apologetically.
“Harry,” she sighed.
“You dropped it?” repeated Amos in disbelief. “Is this a confession? You threw it aside after you conjured the Mark?”
That accusation caused an uproar from their family; Carolina saw Cedric trying, and failing, to hide behind Nicolás, embarrassed of his father’s display — it didn’t quite work because his boyfriend was much shorter, and barely reached his chest.
“That’s a most preposterous accusation I've heard tonight, Amos,” said María carefully.
“Do you really think Harry, or anyone from my family for that matter, would conjure the Dark Mark?” Carolina pinned her subordinate with a hard look.
“Er — of course not,” mumbled Amos blushing. “Sorry... got carried away...”
“I didn’t drop it there, anyway,” said Harry, jerking his thumb toward the trees beneath the skull. “I missed it right after we got into the wood,” he said, looking at Carolina.
“Where did you find this wand, Winky?” María asked.
“I is not doing magic with it, ma’am!” squealed Winky, tears streaming down the sides of her squashed and bulbous nose. “I is... I is… I is just picking it up, ma’am! I is not making the Dark Mark, ma’am, I is not knowing how!”
“It wasn’t her!” said Hermione. She looked very nervous yet determined all the same. “Winky’s got a squeaky little voice, and the voice we heard doing the incantation was much deeper!” She looked around at Harry and Ron. “It didn’t sound anything like Winky, did it?”
“No,” said Harry, shaking his head. “It definitely didn’t sound like an elf.”
“Yeah, it was a human voice,” said Ron.
"It was a man's voice," Nicolás clarified, and something in her son's statement made Mr. Crouch gulp, getting pale-faced.
María used Priori Incantato, which revealed that, effectively, Harry’s wand had been used to conjure the Dark Mark.
“I is not doing it!” Winky squealed, her eyes rolling in terror. “I is not, I is not, I is not knowing how! I is a good elf, I isn’t using wands, I isn’t knowing how!”
“You’ve been caught red-handed, elf!” Amos roared. “Caught with the guilty wand in your hand!”
“I don’t know about you, Amos, but I fought in the war, on the front lines, and merely some selected wizards in Voldemort's circle would know how to conjure the Dark Mark,” said María. Everyone around them gasped at the nonchalant Voldemort's name.
“Perhaps Mrs. María is suggesting,” said Mr. Crouch, cold anger in every syllable, “that I routinely teach my servants to conjure the Dark Mark?”
María, unfazed, merely raised a brow, “Those words didn't leave my mouth, Crouch, don't place your delirious conjectures on me,” she said.
There was something weird about Crouch in the whole disclosure. Something about his entire behavior — the way his eyes often shift towards the clearing, as if searching for someone —, but Carolina couldn’t quite point it with her finger. She looked at Regulus in silence, but Regulus’ look was enough for her to understand that there was something much deeper in the matter; something he would talk about later, in private.
Then came something that Carolina thought impossible: a new reason to despise Barty Crouch Snr.
In a cruel display, Crouch produced a towel and threw it at Winky with no care, all amidst her desperate pleas and tears; the house elf begging, postrated at his feet, to not be freed, to be given another opportunity. But all Crouch did was step away from her as if she were something filthy and rotten that was contaminating his over-shined shoes.
“I have no use for a house-elf who disobeys me,” he said coldly, “I have no use for a servant who forgets what is due to her master, and to her master’s reputation.”
Disconsolate, Winky was crying so hard that her sobs echoed around the clearing. There was a very nasty silence as everyone tried to avoid looking at the miserable elf. Carolina moved her feet, but apparently her father had the exact same idea, for he walked straight to Winky and crouched to her level, raising her face gently by the chin.
“Winky,” he called, the elf’s teary and red-shot eyes met his. “I know it may not seem like much right now, and I’m really sorry for what happened, but if you want to, I offer you a place in my home,” he extended his hand for the elf to take.
“What is the meaning of this?” said Crouch bitterly at the display. But Pedro completely ignored the man, his attention only on the house elf.
"Winky is a bad elf," she said in self-reproach, trying to bury her head in the dirty ground of the forest.
"Nah, nah," said Pedro, preventing the first impact, "that is nonsense, dear, I think you'll do just fine with our other elves."
Trembling all over, Winky put her hand on Pedro’s, and both stood up. “Twinkly!” he called out, and the next moment a house elf materialized at his side.
“Mr. Pedro,” Twinkly said with a small bow.
“Twinkly, this is Winky. Would you be a dear and take her home?” he said. “Help her feel as welcome as you can.”
Twinkly walked towards Winky, entwining their arms, and bowed again. “Of course, Sir., right away!” And she Apparated away.
“You have no right—!” Mr. Crouch exploded, but with an even tone, Pedro shut him off.
“I'm old, but if my memory serves me right, I don't recall Winky having a master,” Pedro said out loud, looking around. “Does any of you?”
Everyone shook their heads, after all, Crouch had set her free. Crouch’s face went purple with rage.
“As I see it, a free elf took a decision with the freedom that was so cruelly bestowed upon her,” he said.
“How dare you, if you're plotting something—!” Mr. Crouch cut himself. “You and your family are weaklings with your servants, no respect do they know.”
But instead of getting angry as Crouch expected, Pedro merely chuckled, it wasn't an entertained laugh, it carried an irony to it.
"Plotting? Bartemus, for years I've wondered when you'd lose the plot, but I never thought I'd witness it," Crouch tried to speak, but Pedro was having none of it.
“For years I’ve wondered why you so utterly failed not only to build a career on the rise but more importantly, a doting family — your pugnacious display of the night just gave me the answer,” Pedro said cooly. Crouch’s face seemed to get even more purple.
“You’re nothing but a —”
“If there is one thing I believe in this world, that’s karma,” said Pedro, shutting Crouch up again, his voice frostier than Malfoy's ever could be, lacking all the warmth it normally holds. “And I can only hope yours treats you with the same kindness you have shown Winky tonight.”
With that, Pedro turned around without as much as glancing in Crouch’s direction again.
“Come on, Cardonas, our tent awaits,” he called out and started to walk. The family followed right behind.
⋆｡°✩°｡⋆
Author's note
sooo, what do we think of the start of part 4??? good kick-off???
anyway, this chapter was filled with the Cardona family basically owning everyone and I'm 100% here for it!!!
small translation of the French dialogue:
Où est Madame Maxime? Nous l’avons perdue: Where is Madame Maxime? We have lost her
Courez dans cette direction, vous y serez en sécurité!: Run in this direction, you will be safe there!
Comments, votes, and follows are always appreciated!!!!!
- 𝐣. 𝐟. 𝐜. 🐼💜