Tragedy avoided

Kingsley had taken the book from Oliver, and Harri found herself being reseated. Harri was surprised to see she was being moved to sit between Daphne and Astoria Greengrass while she and the Slytherins were working towards a genuine friendship and not whatever weird contract they had offered her. She could also admit they did not spend much time interacting. Ron and Hermione took up most of Harri’s time, and when she wasn’t with them, she had several other relationships she was trying to juggle. While confused, Harri wasn’t opposed to this seating arrangement. It would allow her time to enjoy their company without feeling like she was choosing them over her current friends.

“Hello,” Harri greeted pleasantly as she took her seat between the two sisters.

“Hello, Harri,” they both greeted as they turned their attention to her while Kingsley found his place in the book.

“You haven’t worn a braid lately,” Astoria pointed out as she gestured to the mess that was Harri’s hair. “How come? It looked lovely on you.”

Harri grinned sheepishly, “I don’t know how to do it yet. I’m still learning and don’t feel right to constantly ask Charlie to do it for me. We only get so much time during our breaks, and I don’t want to take up all his free time either having him show me or doing it for me.”

“We could help teach you,” Daphne threw out casually as she glanced Harri up and down. “It’d be fun. We could even redo your polish, and you can do ours.”

“Oh, you don’t have to,” Harri shook her head quickly, noticing how nice both girls always looked. She would hate to ruin either of their efforts in their appearance with her clumsy attempts. "I'm still not very good at doing nails, Lavender and Parvati are still in the process of teaching me. They ended up having to fix their own nails the last time I tried during girl’s night.”

“You had a girl’s night and didn’t think we’d enjoy an invite?” Daphne asked, eyebrows raised challengingly. “Or are girls’ nights only for Gryffindors?”

“It wasn’t like it was planned,” Harri defended, unsure if she had offended the Slytherins. “I didn’t go out of my way to exclude you.”

“Daphne, be nice,” Astoria giggled before she sent a sly smile at Harri. “She’s trying to say we wouldn’t mind helping you either. It gives us time to get to know each other better while doing an activity my sister and I enjoy. Though a girl’s night would be fun. And in the future, we would love an invitation.”

“I’ll remember that,” Harri nodded, unknowingly agreeing to what she would later consider the unholy quartet. By introducing Lavender and Parvati and Daphne and Astoria, Harri signed herself up for more than a large amount of prying into her personal relationships.

Don’t tell your mother you’ve been gambling,” Mr. Weasley implored Fred and George as they all made their way slowly down the purple-carpeted stairs.

Molly fumed in her seat. How could she ever hope to have a united front with her husband when he went around saying things like that? She had been fighting with the decision to bring up her conversation with Cassandra with him, but now she was glad she hadn’t. She could see she would be alone in wrangling their children and their destructive tendencies. She always had to be the “bad” parent when it came to their children. It wasn’t fair. She wanted to be able to relax around them occasionally. How could she ever possibly get to loosen her iron rule when Arthur was undermining her? She didn’t make rules to be cruel or unjust, but with seven children, there had to be structure.

“Don’t worry, Dad,” said Fred gleefully, “we’ve got big plans for this money. We don’t want it confiscated.”

Mr. Weasley looked for a moment as though he was going to ask what these big plans were, but seemed to decide, upon reflection, that he didn’t want to know.

Arthur was sure he still did not want to know. Should she ask, it would be less he would have to keep from Molly. He knew his wife’s heart was in the right place, but she could be a bit narrow-minded regarding things that did not fit into the scope of what she thought their children should do or how they should act. He still remembered helping Charlie tour reservations while Molly thought them out for father-son bonding time. He hated lying to his wife, but his children needed the freedom to grow, make their own mistakes, or thrive. They had not raised children who wanted to be told who they should be. They had spent years teaching their kids to be true to themselves despite what the world would think. They had a brood of unruly little tykes, the only exception being Percy and even that was questionable. For Arthur knew never to count any of his children out when it came to the ability to create pure mayhem.

The twins scowled at the book. They would use the money to open their shop, not whatever nefarious thing their father thought them to be up to. Some trust would be nice. While yes, they had often bought joke products with their money, they were relatively tame with their use of said products. They had never caused too much trouble, despite their mother’s grumbling. Until they failed to get O.W.L.s, their grades had been outstanding, and they were also members of the Quidditch team, which took up most of their time. And while it was claimed they were never seen doing their homework, that did not mean they didn’t do it. It wasn’t their fault if people never bothered to notice them if they weren’t pulling some prank.

She was itching to get back on her own Firebolt and try out the Wronski Feint....Somehow Oliver Wood had never managed to convey with all his wriggling diagrams what that move was supposed to look like....Harri saw herself in robes that had her name on the back, and imagined the sensation of hearing a hundred-thousand-strong crowd roar, as Ludo Bagman’s voice echoed throughout the stadium, “I give you....Potter!”

Harri could feel her face burn, her glare set on the blasted book. Could these books just tell them the important parts instead of making her suffer in such a manner?

“I thought I didn’t want to go pro, that it was too dangerous for those around you,” Viktor baited; while his expression gave nothing away, Harri could see his amusement dancing in his eyes.

“I…” Harri stammered, cheeks still red. Merlin, an actual professional Quidditch player, had heard her silly little fantasy.

“Your counterpart doesn’t seem to have such worries,” Viktor continued, wanting to see if he could get the girl to admit she wanted to play professionally. Wanted to see the pure fire and passion the books had shown him Harri possessed. He would hate to see such talent wasted. “You’ve got the raw talent for it. Are you sure it’s fear for others and not fear of failure or the hard work it’d take to get there that holds you back?”

“I’m not afraid of failure or hard work,” Harri barked, temper rising to sit just under her skin. “I put people in danger by just existing. Did you not read the second book? Hermione was attacked for being my friend. Ginny was taken to lure me to Voldemort. It doesn’t matter how badly I want to play Quidditch professionally; I can’t. I don’t get to because, if you haven’t noticed, I’m Harriet bloody Potter, and I don’t get to have the things I want. My life doesn’t work that way.”

The room fell silent at Harri’s outburst. Despite Harri’s furry, Viktor felt victorious. While his intent had not been to upset Harri, he had gotten his wish. Harri did want to play. He could see the passion for Quidditch burn behind her rage. Could see how badly she wanted her fantasy to be a reality. She had spoken it into words, and while there was plenty of self-doubt, Viktor had spent a week reading about Harri relentlessly making her wants a reality.

Fleur could relate to Harri in a way. From what Fleur had gathered, Harri seemed to think she was under an obligation to live up to the expectations set upon her by not just the wizarding world but Voldemort himself. But did she really? Could Harri not simply just leave Britain to its own devices? Fluer was sure Harri would be accepted into another wizarding school without much fuss. If Harri would only let herself give up the silly notion she owed anyone anything more than the ability to watch her walk away. Fleur had learned the hard way that people’s expectations were no more than what one wiped with. Because she was part Veela, she was expected to be nothing more than a pretty face, someone who would only ever want to be fawned over by others. It had taken Fleur years to learn to keep others at arm’s length until she could decipher their true intentions. If they were worth letting past her guards to see the ambition and intelligence beneath the surface. She was sure Harri could learn a lot from her in the ways of settling for nothing less than you deserved despite anyone else’s opinion on the matter. She wondered if Harri would listen to her advice if she were to give it, though. She would have to ask Bill how to approach the subject, for Harri was far more at ease with him.

Harri never knew whether or not she had actually dropped off to sleep - her fantasies of flying like Krum might well have slipped into actual dreams - all she knew was that, quite suddenly, Mr. Weasley was shouting.

“What now?” Remus groaned to himself. Harri hadn’t even made it to Hogwarts yet again, and it seemed as if trouble had already found her. Couldn’t Harri just make it to Hogwarts one year without incident? Was that really too much to ask for? He had already given up on her having a normal year without winding up in danger while she resided on Hogwarts grounds, but she should at least be allowed to make it to Hogwarts without some sort of incident. Couldn’t there be a single book Harri didn’t make him worry about her safety before the school year even started?

Dimly, she could tell that something was wrong. The noises in the campsite had changed. The singing had stopped. She could hear screams, and the sound of people running. She slipped down from the bunk and reached for her clothes, but Mr. Weasley, who had pulled on his jeans over his own pyjamas, said, “No time, Harri- just grab a jacket and get outside - quickly!”

“Trouble really does follow you around like a shroud waiting to strike,” Viktor voiced solemnly, remembering how Harri had predicted her going to the Cup would ruin the event. Even after reading three books, he had doubted her mere presence would have brought about danger, but this was just too much of a coincidence for him. It was as if the world was out to get Harri.

“I told you,” Harri sniped defensively, still rather sore with Viktor over his early comments.

“So this is what we have to look forward to,” Tracy Davis asked, shooting Blaise with a look of disdain. They had promised Harri their wands. How often would they have to keep this promise? They should have asked for more.

Daphne patted Harri on the arm and sent Tracy a bloodthirsty grin, “Makes life interesting, no?”

Blaise ignored Tracy’s glare as he studied Potter. It was true the girl tended to get in far more trouble than anyone he knew, but he still thought it was worth it. If Potter was the winning side, it didn’t matter how many times they had to pull their wands for the girl; they would. Blaise wondered if they could get Potter to add to her side of the deal but pushed the thought to the side. The girl had already proven willing to lend a helping hand to anyone she deemed a friend. They could use that if they needed. He doubted there wasn’t much Harri wouldn’t do for someone she considered a friend. All they had to do was deepen their ties to her.

Sirius and Remus sagged in their seats, waiting to hear what awaited Harri now, for nothing good could surely be coming from that screaming. Arthur wouldn’t be so panicked for anything less than life-threatening events.

A crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wands pointing straight upward, was marching slowly across the field. Harri squinted at them....They didn’t seem to have faces....Then she realized that 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.

“That’s sick!”

“How could they!”

“This can’t be happening.”

“Why would anyone ever do such a thing?”

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 Harri saw one of the marchers blast a tent out of his way with his wand. Several caught fire. The screaming grew louder.

Fear gripped the Grangers for their daughter. This wasn’t something they ever hoped she would see in her lifetime. They had heard enough to know how brutal the magical world could get, but this was just too much. What had being a witch done to their daughter’s life? No child ever needed to witness such an act of monstrosity. How were they ever supposed to trust their daughter to step foot out of the muggle world again? This sounded like an act of war, something they wanted their daughter to never experience. Thoughts about pulling Hermione out of Hogwarts and sending her to muggle school sounded better and better. Anything was better than this.

Hermione gripped Ron’s hand so hard it hurt, her eyes wide in terror. Ron didn’t complain as he shifted closer to her. The act being described right now was unimaginable. The very idea that people out there would want to string Hermione up like that made his blood boil. He’d kill them before they ever got the chance, but he would never be able to wrap his brain around their joy in such acts. He never wanted to understand. Hermione was one of his best friends, and while he couldn’t stand her at times, he would never, not even on his worst days, wish such a fate on her. He would face up to  You-Know-Who already because the man wanted Harri dead, but if that weren’t the case, this scene described in the book would have cemented his rebellion against You-Know-You. He could never condone this.

Ron made the mistake of closing his eyes, but all he could see was Hermione stuck sixty up in the air while wizards made her move any way they wished for their own amusement. His jaw clenched so hard at the image that he feared he’d crack his teeth. Never, he swore. Not as long as he lived.

Hermione’s resolve to be the best witch Britain had ever seen grew. She would not be cowarded by this. She did not regret being a witch, nor her friendship to the one responsible for taking the leader of these neo nazi’s down. Even knowing there were people out there that wanted to hurt her over something as simple as her blood, did not change Hermione’s mind on the fact she belonged in the magical world.

At the same moment, Bill, Charlie, and Percy emerged from the boys’ tent, fully dressed, with their sleeves rolled up and their wands out.

“Why did you guys have time to dress, but we didn’t?” Harri complained, shooting the three dirty looks.

“We can use magic, and as you clearly heard, it didn’t take us long to be ready,” Charlie answered with a shrug. It wasn’t his fault they were underage.

“We’re going to help the Ministry!” Mr. Weasley shouted over all the noise, rolling up his own sleeves. “You lot - get into the woods, and stick together. I’ll come and fetch you when we’ve sorted this out!”

Bill, Charlie, and Percy were already sprinting away toward the oncoming marchers; Mr. Weasley tore after them.

Pride and fear tore Molly apart from the inside out. Her boys hadn’t hesitated to go to those muggles’ defence, the love of her life not far behind them. She was so proud of them, but she feared for them more. Her brothers would have jumped into the fray the same way, and look where it had gotten them. She knew she could not stop her family from doing what they thought was right, nor did she want to. However, as a mother and wife, she wished they would have just run. Taken the children and vanished into the night. Let someone else handle the disaster. Though she supposed Arthur would not have been the man she loved, her boys wouldn’t have been the children she raised had they turned tail and run. No, her family were far too scrappy a bunch to watch such an injustice happen in front of them without intervening if they thought they could help. She had no doubt all four would have fought to the death for those muggles.

“C’mon,” said Fred, grabbing Ginny’s hand and starting to pull her toward the wood.

Ginny was sure she couldn’t have kept the shock off her face had she tried. She would have thought Fred would have grabbed Harri and not her. Fred and George weren’t what one would call overly affectionate regarding their siblings. She had witnessed enough from Fred and his interactions with Harri to assume that Harri took first in everything when it came to Fred. She was sure her cheeks were flushed after hearing Fred had chosen her safety above all else. Of course, she knew he loved her, but it was nice to have it confirmed.

Harri, Ron, Hermione, and George followed. They all looked back as they reached the trees. The crowd beneath the Roberts family was larger than ever; they could see the Ministry wizards trying to get through it to the hooded wizards in the centre, but they were having great difficulty. It looked as though they were scared to perform any spell that might make the Roberts family fall.

Kingsley paused to stare at the book in horror. This all sounded far too similar for his liking. He doubted he would like what this chapter had to reveal.

Moody frowned at the book. It didn’t sound as if anyone knew how to handle a hostage situation. Was there not a single trained Auror on the campsites? How had the Ministry failed to have a single Auror in place? This didn’t sit right with him. This was too planned. Someone either purposely didn’t include the Aurors in this process or had them sent away. He was willing to bet someone key to planning this event was involved.

“What happened?” said Hermione anxiously, stopping so abruptly that Harri walked into her. “Ron, where are you? Oh this is stupid - lumos!”

While Madam Bones did not condone the use of underage magic, in this instance, it was warranted. These children needed to make their way to safety as soon as possible. She had a terrible feeling she knew who was causing a disturbance at the World Cup. Both Potter and Granger were in terrible danger if she was correct. Weasley, too, for that matter.

Harri, Ron, and Hermione turned sharply. Draco Malfoy was standing alone nearby, leaning against a tree, looking utterly relaxed. His arms folded, he seemed to have been watching the scene at the campsite through a gap in the trees.

Narcissa’s eyebrows pinched together. What was Draco doing there all alone? Had she sent him into the woods to distance him from his father’s actions? After hearing how relaxed Draco seemed, Narcissa was certain that Lucius was a part of the attack on those muggles. She was probably at his side. The question was, why? Why had they chosen now for such acts? Was there a reason, or were they just seeking the glory of days long past? She was sure Draco wouldn’t help her in the pursuit of getting closer to Potter here.

“ The Malfoys are probably leading the whole thing. Why else would he be out there?” Ron accused, shooting dirty looks over at Draco. He didn’t understand how Draco could watch such a disturbing scene so casually without an ounce of compassion.

“A baseless accusation,” Narcissa sniped, not believing her own words. “Draco could simply be looking for safety in the woods the same way you are.”

Ron told Malfoy to do something that Harri knew he would never have dared say in front of Mrs. Weasley.

“You reckon he told Draco to go fuck himself?” Charlie gruffed, sending his youngest brother an amused grin.

“I’d be willing to bet that’s far too polite for what I said,” Ron snickered, ignoring his mother’s look of disapproval.

“Language, Weasley,” said Malfoy, his pale eyes glittering. “Hadn’t you better be hurrying along now? You wouldn’t like her spotted, would you?”

He nodded at Hermione, and at the same moment, a blast like a bomb sounded from the campsite, and a flash of green light momentarily lit the trees around them.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” said Hermione defiantly.

“Granger, they’re after Muggles,” said Malfoy. “D’you want to be showing off your knickers in midair? Because if you do, hang around.... they’re moving this way, and it would give us all a laugh.”

“Hermione’s a witch,” Harri snarled, her temper rising again. “And we wouldn’t have let anything happen to her.” She and Ron would have defended Hermione with their lives if it came down to that; Harri was sure of it.

“Honestly, how much lower can you sink,” Daphne lashed out, turning her frosty glare onto Draco. “Granger can do magic and has shown she will not go spilling our secrets. What does her blood matter? Are you just jealous she’s shown far more aptitude for magic than you ever will?”

“I’m not jealous of Granger,” Draco denied heatedly. “She can be a little know-it-all all she wants. It’s never going to change where she comes from.”

Harri reached for her wand, ready to hex Draco for his comments, when Astoria reached out to grasp her wrist, shaking her head as she gestured at her sister, who’d come to a stand in her rage. Before Harri could fully register what was going on, Daphne’s wand was out and slashing through the air. She had hit Draco with the same spell Charlie had used to give Vernon a zipper for a mouth.

“I’ve had enough out of you. I won’t sit here and listen to bigotry anymore,” Daphne sniffed as she put her wand away. “People like you and those hurting those muggles give Slytherin such a bad name. I’m tired of constantly being perceived as evil because of those like you.”

Draco fumed from his seat. How dare Daphne raise her wand against him! Just because she wanted to pretend to be a muggle lover to get on Potter’s good side didn’t mean he had to. He hadn’t even been part of the attacks in these books, much to his disappointment. His having a little fun with Granger hardly warranted this level of scorn.

Narcissa raised a brow at Molly Weasly as she inquired, “Well, are you going to just let Draco continue with this behaviour? He is your responsibility now.”

Molly shot Narcissa a dirty look. What was she supposed to do here? She doubted Draco would listen to her. She was coming to the realization that agreeing to Host Draco might have been a horrible decision. Either way, Narcissa was right. She wasn’t going to allow such views to continue in her home.

“If I hear any more filth come out of your mouth Draco, rest assured your stay with us will not be a pleasant one,” Molly threatened, unsure how she would execute such a threat.

Narcissa wasn’t optimistic the Weasleys would be able to handle her child at this rate.

“Have it your own way, Potter,” said Malfoy, grinning maliciously. “If you think they can’t spot a Mudblood, stay where you are.”

The room removed Draco’s zipper as a mouth and again made him puke snails for his use of the word mudblood. It didn’t seem the room cared; he had not said the word yet in this timeline.

“I won’t permit such use of that word while you are under my care,” Molly snapped, furious. She was not above scrubbing the boy’s mouth out with soap.

Josephine Granger clutched her husband’s hand tight within her own. Their daughter didn’t deserve such slurs thrown at her. She didn’t deserve to have her life in danger for being born. They were glad this room was on their side regarding that nasty slur. They realized they had no power here. They weren’t capable of casting any sort of magic to defend themselves or their daughter. They were completely reliant on others for their family’s safety.

Where’re your parents” said Harri, her temper rising.“Out there wearing masks, are they”

Malfoy turned his face to Harri, still smiling.“Well...if they were, I wouldn’t be likely to tell you, would I, Potter?”

Narcissa sighed to herself in disappointment at Draco. While it was not a confession, she was sure everyone in this room would take it at one. She mourned for what little progress she had made with Potter during their last break. She was going to have much to fix after this chapter.

Blaise shot his housemates pointed looks, forcing himself not to look back at Harri. They would have to find a way to break away from Narcissa entirely and soon. They needed to accelerate their friendship with Potter. They needed Potter to believe that their friendship was real on their part, despite Narcissa forcing them to start one. They would come clean to Potter about it all while shifting the entire blame for their deceit onto Malfoy.

“I’ll bet you anything his dad is one of that masked lot,” said Ron hotly.

“Speculation,” Narcissa voiced haughtily. “You have no proof, and you know my son will say anything to rile you up. He could very well have just been trying to anger you.”

Harri very much doubted it.

“Well, with any luck, the Ministry will catch him,” said Hermione fervently.“Oh, I can’t believe this. Where have the others got to?”

Fred, George, and Ginny were nowhere to be seen, though the path was packed with plenty of other people, all looking nervously over their shoulders toward the commotion back at the campsite.

Fred, Ginny and George all winced as guilt raced through them. They had lost the other three in all the confusion. They should have been better at staying together.

Fred wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if Harri ended up hurt because of his carelessness. While he didn’t want Ron or Hermione hurt either, Harri was the one danger seemed to find the most. Harri was the one that had almost died three years in a row.

Cedric wanted to know where he was. Had his father apparated him out of the campground right away? Was he out there looking for Harri, or was he somewhere hiding, too afraid to move? He’d like to think he would have looked for Harri during all the madness. His and Harri’s interactions in the books sounded like they were on somewhat friendly terms. He liked to think he would be concerned enough for his friend to want and find her.

 A huddle of teenagers in pyjamas was arguing vociferously a little way along the path. When they saw Harri, Ron, and Hermione, a girl with thick curly hair turned and said quickly, “O est Madame Maxime? Nous l'avons perdue –”

“They’re asking where Madam Maxime is. They said they had lost her,” Fleur explained, her heart going out to her fellow classmates. They sounded scared.

“Beauxbatons,” muttered Hermione.

“Sorry,” said Harri.

“They must go to Beauxbatons,” said Hermione.“You know...Beauxbatons Academy of Magic....I read about it in An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe.”

“Not the best time for this,” Tonks pointed out. “You can teach Ron and Harri about other schools when you aren’t busy running for your life.”

Hermione flushed. She could admit it wasn’t the best time for a lecture. She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to share her knowledge on the subject right then when they should have been headed to a safe area to hide. 

Cassandra wondered if Hermione’s need to cite facts at such times was a coping mechanism for the young witch.

“Fred and Georgecan’t have gone that far,” said Ron, pulling out his wand, lighting it like Hermione’s, and squinting up the path. Harri dug in the pockets of her jacket for her own wand - but it wasn’t there. The only thing she could find was her Omnioculars.

“Must I permanently stick your wand to your hand Potter,” Moody growled.

“That won’t be necessary. I have a wand holster now, thanks to Tonks. No more wand in pockets to lose or have to fish out,” Harri quickly defended. She didn’t think Moody was above actually sticking her wand to her hand.

“I advise you all to invest in tamper-proof Wand Holsters. From the sounds of this book, our home is about to become dangerous. You never know when you’ll need your wand; the faster you can access it, the better. You don’t know when those couple of seconds could save your life. Having more than one wand could help too. One in your hostler and another hidden somewhere on your person. Make your enemy believe they have disarmed you, then strike when they least expect it.”

Fred was still kicking himself for having lost them. With Bill, Charlie and Percy all fighting to save those poor muggles, it fell on him and George to keep the rest of them safe. They were the next oldest of the group, and they had failed. No wonder their parents never wanted to give them any form of responsibility. They couldn’t even look after everyone properly.

She usually kept her wand with her at all times in the wizarding world, and finding herself without it in the midst of a scene like this made her feel very vulnerable.

“Because you are,” Tonks lamented. “You might as well be a muggle without your wand.”

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 were trying to hold her back.

“I hope she’s okay,” Hermione voiced, frowning at the book. That didn’t sound right.

Harri thought she knew why Winky was running that way but thought it best not to voice her opinion on the matter. It would do no good to upset Hermione further.

“What's up with her?” said Ron, looking curiously after Winky.“Why can’t she run properly?”

“Bet she didn’t ask permission to hide,” said Harri.She was thinking of Dobby: Every time he had tried to do something the Malfoy wouldn’t like, the house-elf had been forced to start beating himself up.

“That isn’t right,” Hermione fumed. “She shouldn’t have to ask permission to save herself.”

“She shouldn’t,” Harri agreed, just as angry on Winky’s behalf. Whoever Winky’s owners were, Harri already hated them.

Dobby was hit with a wave of gratitude for Miss Potter and her friend. No one ever cared about their safety this way.

“Well, the elves are happy, aren’t they?” Ron said. “You heard old Winky back at the match...’  House-elves is not supposed to have fu’...  that’s what she likes, being bossed around...”

“It’s people like you, Ron,” Hermione began hotly, “who prop up rotten and unjust systems, just because they’re too lazy to -”

“Really not the time for this argument,” Tonks pointed out again. Why couldn’t the children just make it to a safe area without having to stop and argue or be lectured about facts? Their priorities weren’t right, that was sure. All of this could have waited.

Tonks wasn’t positive Hermione was being fair to Ron over his thoughts about Elves. He was born into the magical world, and like Tonks herself it could have just never occurred to Ron to look at it as slavery the way Hermione did. Tonks doubted Ron had ever even considered mistreating an elf life; most wizards don’t. It was a little irritating that Hermione believed she was the only one who knew the rights and wrongs of the world out of the trio. Ron wasn’t going out of his way to abuse Winky or any other elf. He was just allowing them to be as they always have been.

Hermione simmered in her seat. She couldn’t believe Ron could be so heartless. How could the boy who had spent all his free time last year looking up ways to save Buckbeak not care about House-elves? It was as if she didn’t even know Ron in this book because that was not the boy she had come to know for these last three years.

Ron thought Hermione needed to sit down and take the time to learn about house elves. Dobby was a one-of-a-kind type of elf. Most elves were perfectly happy with the work they did. If Winky had wanted her freedom or had asked for help, he would have given it to her freely. He was all for helping Dobby if the elf ever wanted it. From what he could gather, Winky liked working under her Master and didn’t seem to want the freedom Dobby had wanted. While he did agree it was wrong that Winky couldn’t run, it could be because her master hadn’t been near Winky to let her know it was acceptable to get to safety. They just didn’t know enough. Now if they found out Winky’s master had ordered her to stay in harm’s way on purpose, Ron was more than okay with supporting Hermione in what he was sure would be one hell of a talking down to whoever owned Winky.

“Let’s just keep moving, shall we?” said Ron, and Harri saw him glance edgily at Hermione. Perhaps there was truth in what Malfoy had said; perhaps Hermione was in more danger than they were. They set off again, Harri still searching her pockets, even though she knew her wand wasn’t there.

Hermione was filled with gratitude at her friends’ worry for her. It was always lovely to hear how much they both cared for her. She knew they had been struggling with how their friendship was evolving but knew that no matter what, Ron and Harri would always be there for her. She knew they all still had a lot of work to do towards being better friends, but she was hopeful they would make it. She doubted they would ever part.

Sirius personally thought they were missing the bigger picture. If anyone was in danger, it was Harri. She was without a wand; if anyone was a target, it would be her. If those causing mayhem were, in fact, Death Eaters, who better to attack than the one who brought the fall of Voldemort about? While it was admirable to care about Hermione’s safety in the way Harri clearly did, Sirius wished the girl would care about her own in the same way.

Farther still along the path, they walked into a patch of silvery light, and when they looked through the trees, they saw three tall and beautiful veela standing in a clearing, surrounded by a gaggle of young wizards, all of whom were talking very loudly.

“I pull down about a hundred sacks of Galleons a year!” one of them shouted. “I’m a dragon killer for the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures.”

“No, you’re not!” yelled his friend. “You’re a dishwasher at the Leaky Cauldron...but I’m a vampire hunter, I’ve killed about ninety so far -”

A third young wizard, whose pimples were visible even by the dim, silvery light of the veela, now cut in, “I’m about to become the youngest ever Minister of Magic, I am.”

Harri wished she would never be drawn towards the Veela to this degree. It would be mortifying to embarrass herself to such a degree. She wondered if Fleur knew how she could protect herself from their charms. She seemed to know the most about them.

She turned to tell Ron this, but Ron’s face had gone oddly slack, and the next second Ron was yelling, “Did I tell you I’ve invented a broomstick that’ll reach Jupiter.”

“Honestly,” said Hermione, and she and Harri grabbed Ron firmly by the arms, wheeled him around, and marched him away.

Ron couldn’t believe his actions. Why couldn’t the books have skipped this? He was never going to live this down. He could see the twins' eyes twinkling with all the ways they planned to tease him. He desperately wanted to shout that it hadn’t happened yet but didn’t want to lose a knut.

Even by the feeble light of the two wands, Harri could see that a great change had come over Bagman. He no longer looked buoyant and rosy-faced; there was no more spring in his step. He looked very white and strained.

Why had Bagman been out in the woods? Moody thought suspiciously. What business did he have there? He should have been overseeing the campsite. His duty was to protect those muggles with the rest of the ministry workers there. What had him so shaken up?

“At the campsite...some people have got hold of a family of Muggles...”

Bagman swore loudly.

“Damn them,” he said, looking quite distracted, and without another word, he Disapparated with a small pop!

“Not exactly on top of things, Mr. Bagman, is he?” said Hermione, frowning.

“Never is,” Sirius snapped, still sore Bagman had gotten off scot-free. Even if the man didn’t know what he was doing, he still did a terrible thing. He should have paid for his crimes.

“Imagine if your dad catches Lucius Malfoy,” said Harri, sitting down next to Ron and watching the small figure of Krum slouching over the fallen leaves. He’s always said he’d like to get something on him.”

Narcissa raised a brow at Arthur before pointing out, “You cannot continue to harass my family on baseless claims.”

“And when they are no longer baseless?” Arthur retorted, gaze shifting over to Draco.

“Then I shall support your endeavour, but until then, I would prefer it if you don’t poison your family against me and mine over suspicions.”

“I think your family does plenty without dad’s help to make us hate them,” Ginny snorted rudely.

“Those poor Muggles, though,” said Hermione nervously. “What if they can’t get them down?”

Josephine was proud that her daughter still found the time to care for those being tormented, even after finding out she could also be a target. They were glad that the magical world had not changed their daughter entirely.

“Mad, though, to do something like that when the whole Ministry of Magic’s out here tonight!” said Hermione. “I mean, how do they expect to get away with it? Do you think they’ve been drinking, or are they just -”

Madam Bones couldn’t help but agree. It was very bold of those who committed such crimes. It was as if they knew they would get away with it. Not on her watch. She was going to use these books to thoroughly clean the Ministry out.

Moody narrowed his eyes, entirely sure those who worked at the Ministry were behind this. Why else even attempt such a thing? They had to know it was safe for them to commit such an atrocity without worrying about their lives being ruined. The Death Eaters had been quiet for years now. Everyone still free clung to their lives of ease zealously.

And then, without warning, the silence was rent by a voice unlike any they had heard in the wood; and it uttered, not a panicked shout, but what sounded like a spell.

“MORSMORDRE!”

Several gasps erupted throughout the room, and Harri wanted to know what was so bad about the spell but figured the books would explain. She could always ask later if they didn’t.

For a split second, Harri thought it was another leprechaun formation. Then she realized that it was a colossal skull, comprised of what looked like emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. As they watched, it rose higher and higher, blazing in a haze of greenish smoke, etched against the black sky like a new constellation.

“The dark mark,” Charlie breathed in horror.

“The what?” Harri asked, completely confused.

“It’s what Voldemort and his followers used to let others know they had taken a life,” Sirius explained gravely, eyes wide.

“It sounds like Voldemort based the mark off of the basilisk exiting Slytherin's mouth down in the chamber,” Harri pointed out as she remembered the scene clearly. “That’s not very original.”

Daphne had to fight the urge to snort. It was very much like Harri to ignore the fact that Mark should have left her terrified and find a way to take a shot at You-Know-Who. Daphne was all for it. While she didn’t have an opinion either way on You-Know-Who returning, she was rather sore that the man had made everyone believe snakes were an evil omen.

“It’s the Dark Mark, Harry!” Hermione moaned, pulling her as hard as she could. “You-Know-Who’s sign!”

“How did you know that?” Ron asked with a roll of his eyes. Of course, she would know.

“The history books I read that the two of you won’t even give a chance to,” Hermione snapped back.

“Is there a book you haven’t read?” Madam Bones asked curiously. She was coming to like the young witch. Her thirst for knowledge was commendable. The Ministry could use more bright minds like hers. Bones wondered if they could salvage the Ministry image in the young witches’ eyes enough to get Hermione interested in a job there after she left Hogwarts.

“There are plenty of books I haven’t read yet,” Hermione flushed, not enjoying the fact there was still so much she did not know. “But I have a list of books I wish to read this summer, and I’m always in the library looking for ways to further my understanding of magic.”

“An excellent goal,” Moody praised. “You never know what you’ll need to know or when. It is always better to be over-prepared.”

Harri turned - Ron was hurriedly scooping up his miniature Krum - the three of them started across the clearing - but before they had taken a few hurried steps, a series of popping noises announced the arrival of twenty wizards, appearing from thin air, surrounding them.

“Priorities,” Tonks moaned, ready to shake all three of the children until they understood the importance of personal safety.

While Cassandra agreed the children should have gotten out of there as fast as they could, she understood when Ron had stopped to grab his souvenir. He didn’t have very many things he could call his own and had saved up all summer to be able to buy the little toy. Danger to Ron by this point had become a regular occurrence due to his friendship with Harri. He was acting on what he thought should be his first priority. She very much doubted the boy would have hesitated to drop the figure and draw his wand if he thought Hermione or Harri were in any real danger.

Harri whirled around, and in an instant, she registered one fact: Each of these wizards had his wand out, and every wand was pointing right at herself, Ron, and Hermione.

Without pausing to think, she yelled, “DUCK!”

She seized the other two and pulled them down onto the ground.

“Good instincts,” Kingsley paused reading to praise.

Moody had to agree with Kingsley. That had been rather good reflexes on Potter’s part. He had personally seen them while he tutored her and the other students. While they weren’t bad, he still thought they could be better. He planned on making Potter improve.

Sirius and Molly both ground their teeth together as they heard the child were shot at.

“Stop!” yelled a voice she recognized. “STOP! That’s my son!”

Harri’s hair stopped blowing about. She raised her head a little higher. The wizard in front of her had lowered his wand. She rolled over and saw Mr. Weasley striding toward them, looking terrified.

“Ron - Harri” - his voice sounded shaky - “Hermione - are you all right?”

“Thanks,” Harri grinned, glad she could count on Arthur.

It was Mr. Crouch. He and the other Ministry wizards were closing in on them. Harri got to his feet to face them. Mr. Crouch’s face was taut with rage.

“Which of you did it?” he snapped, his sharp eyes darting between them. “Which of you conjured the Dark Mark?”

Percy frowned as his opinion of his future boss lowered. Harri, Hermione or Ron would never conjure the Dark Mark. The man hadn’t even given them a chance to defend themselves before jumping to conclusions. He no longer sounded like a man he wanted to work under. Anyone who thought his brother and his friends could do such a heinous act wasn’t worth Percy’s time.

“Leave it to Crouch to try and blame the innocent,” Sirius snarked. He would rip the man to shreds if he tried to ruin Harri’s life the way he had ruined Sirius’s.

“Do not lie, sir!” shouted Mr. Crouch. His wand was still pointing directly at Ron, and his eyes were popping - he looked slightly mad. “You have been discovered at the scene of the crime!”

Sirius’ rage grew to new heights. Of course, Crouch wouldn’t bother to listen. He was a power-hungry old fool. He had better put that wand away if he knew what was good for him. Sirius wasn’t going to sit by and let Crouch put anyone else away for a crime they did not commit.

Molly’s eyes narrowed. Crouch better not have hurt her child. The fact he was accusing any of them was ridiculous.

But none of the Ministry wizards apart from Mr. Crouch seemed to think it remotely likely that Harry, Ron, or Hermione had conjured the skull; on the contrary, at Hermione’s words, they had all raised their wands again and were pointing in the direction she had indicated, squinting through the dark trees.

“At least someone has some common sense,” Hermione sniffed, unimpressed with the Ministry more than ever.

Madam Bones massaged her temples. This wasn’t going well.

“I don’t think so,” said a wizard with a scrubby brown beard. It was Amos Diggory, Cedric’s father. “Our Stunners went right through those trees.... There’s a good chance we got them....”

Cedric beamed in pride at his father. Glad to see he was one of the people who believed Harri and her friends had not conjured the Mark. He was even willing to go first into a potentially dangerous situation.

They heard snapping twigs, the rustling of leaves, and then crunching footsteps as Mr. Diggory reemerged from behind the trees. He was carrying a tiny, limp figure in his arms. Harri recognized the tea towel at once. It was Winky.

“Poor Winky,” Hermione gasped, hands covering her mouth.

“Why was Winky still anywhere near the three of them?”

“Here, look.” Mr. Diggory held up a wand and showed it to Mr. Weasley. “Had it in her hand. So that’s clause three of the Code of Wand Use broken, for a start. No non-human creature is permitted to carry or use a wand.”

Moody didn’t like this. First, Crouch’s uncharacteristic worry about Bertha Jones and now his House elf at the scene of a crime with Potter’s wand. A wand the elf could have stolen from the girl at the game. Something was going on with Couch, and he wanted to know. He would be listening intently any time the man was brought up.

Just then there was another pop, and Ludo Bagman Apparated right next to Mr. Weasley. Looking breathless and disorientated, he spun on the spot, goggling upward at the emerald-green skull.

“The Dark Mark!” he panted, almost trampling Winky as he turned inquiringly to his colleagues. “Who did it? Did you get them? Barty! What’s going on?”

“Poor Winky!”

“Why is she on the ground!”

“Why hasn’t she been brought too?”

“Where have you been, Barty?” said Bagman. “Why weren’t you at the match? Your elf was saving you a seat too - gulping gargoyles!” Bagman had just noticed Winky lying at his feet. “What happened to her?”

Moody would like to know the answer to that. Where had Crouch vanished off to? Why send his elf up to save him a seat if he never planned on showing up?

It didn’t surprise Hermione Winky belonged to a man like Crouch, who she had already decided she did not like before knowing he was Winky’s owner.

Comprehension dawned suddenly on Bagman’s round, shiny face; he looked up at the skull, down at Winky, and then at Mr. Crouch.

“No!” he said. “Winky? Conjure the Dark Mark? She wouldn’t know how! She’d need a wand, for a start!”

Hermione begrudgingly elevated her opinion of Bugman. He had, at the very least, come to Winky’s defence immediately. Amos Digggory, on the other hand, sat very low with her regards for the man. How had Amos raised such a kind son when he was such a prick?

“And she had one,” said Mr. Diggory. “I found her holding one, Ludo. If it’s all right with you, Mr. Crouch, I think we should hear what she’s got to say for herself.”

“You can’t honestly believe it was Winky!” Hermione snarled completely over how Winky had been spoken about and treated.

“What else was I supposed to think?” Amos defended himself. “The elf was found with a wand near where the Mark was cast.”

“You could have given her the benefit of the doubt,” Harri added, coming to Winky’s defence. She hadn’t liked how Amos acted so far in this chapter, and maybe she was a little biased knowing what she did from Cedric about the man. Maybe she had been itching to have a go at the man for days now.

“You children don’t understand what that Mark means,” Amos snapped at the two. “I was doing my job.”

“Then maybe you should be better at it,” Harri retorted condescendingly. She had wanted to add while he was at it, he could start being a better father too.

Cedric watched Harri and his father argue, torn. He believed his father was being unfair to Winky. But that was still his father, and he had the urge to defend him. He had never thought he’d see the day his father treated any magical beginning so crassly. He was always taught to respect other races. What had gotten into his dad?

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!”

Winky began to rock backward and forward on the ground, her breath coming in sharp bursts. Harri was reminded forcibly of Dobby in his moments of terrified disobedience.

Cedric couldn’t believe how his father threatened the elf or used his position of power. It made him ashamed. This was the man he wanted to make proud of? Whose opinion meant the world to him?

“Excuse me?” said Mr. Diggory, incredulously.

“That’s my wand!” said Harri. “I dropped it!”

“You dropped it?” repeated Mr. Diggory in disbelief. “Is this a confession? You threw it aside after you conjured the Mark?”

“How could you accuse Harri of such a thing?” Cedric demanded, furious that his father could ever even consider the possibility. “You, of all people, know her story!”

“It hasn’t happened yet, Ced. Calm down. I was just doing my job,” Amos placated his son, tossing a knut to the twin menaces before they could demand he pay up.

“I won’t calm down,” Cedric refused venomously. “This is the second time you’ve been a complete dick to someone I care about. You just falsely accused my friend of something she would never do, and you aren’t even sorry.”

“Why should I be sorry for something that hasn’t happened,” Amos retorted, his own temper rising. “Her wand conjured the Mark. I was trying to find answers. I’ll admit it was silly to accuse Harriet Potter of doing this, but you don’t know the horror that Mark caused during the war. I’d rather be wrong than let the preparator get away.”

“You’re impossible,” Cedric rebutted  more than happy when the room moved his seat. He gladly went to sit next to Harri. How could he not see how wrong it was to accuse Harri like that or treat Winky like a second-class citizen?

Harri placed a calming hand on Cedric’s arm as she leaned in a whisper, “I appreciate your anger on my behalf, but are you sure I’m worth arguing with your father over?”

Harri was surprised when Cedric yanked away from her touch and crossed his arms and his heated reply, “I get to decide what’s worth arguing with that man for. Not you.”

“Sorry,” Harri mumbled, fiddling with her hands. “I’m here if you want to talk about it.”

“I don’t.”

Harri let the matter drop, respecting Cedric’s want for privacy.

Cassandra could understand her husband’s view of points. While Amos had been wrong to accuse Harri of conjuring the Mark, she could understand why he had. That Mark must have rattled Amos, and everyone else, after thirteen years. She doubted a single soul that knew what that Mark meant, was thinking straight. They all must have been terrified of what it could mean.

Moody’s eye twitched in annoyance. The investigation was going nowhere quickly. Not a single person there was qualified to run such an investigation; that much was clear. They should have been looking for more clues instead of wasting their time pointing fingers. They all had gotten far too lax after the war.

“So,” said Mr. Diggory, his eyes hardening as he turned to look at Winky again, cowering at his feet. “You found this wand, eh, elf? And you picked it up and thought you’d have some fun with it, did you?”

“You’re just jumping to more conclusions,” Hermione reprimanded hotly.

Amos was ready to have another go at the girl but held his tongue at the look his wife sent him. Cedric was already cross with him, and he doubted Potter would stay out of the argument.

Harri reached over to squeeze Cedric’s hand in support and was slightly hurt when the boy pulled away. She knew what it was like to have an entire room be shown the worst about your father. She was only trying to help. She couldn’t imagine what it would have been like for Cedric growing up with Amos if the man had always been the way the books were portraying him. Did Cedric blame her for these books showing his father’s behaviour?

“No,” said Harri, shaking her head. “It definitely didn’t sound like an elf.”

“Yeah, it was a human voice,” said Ron.

“Well, we’ll soon see,” growled Mr. Diggory, looking unimpressed. “There’s a simple way of discovering the last spell a wand performed, elf, did you know that?”

“Why couldn’t you have at least heard them out?” Cedric snapped at his father. “Why couldn’t you have once in your entire life just listen?”

“You know Elves aren’t allowed to have wands Ced,” Amos tried to reason. “The elf broke the law by just having Potter’s wand.”

“And you had three people telling you Winky didn’t cast the Mark, and you won’t even listen. You just have to be right, don’t you?”

Harri worried for Cedric. She knew how much Amos’ opinion meant to Cedric and couldn’t help but think Cedric was letting his anger rule him right now. She knew a thing or two about that too. She had publicly lost it on several people during these readings; if she could, she would prefer to go back and have those conversations privately in a far more rational state of mind. As she listened to Cedric’s and his father's argument grow in volume and heat, Harri made up her mind. She clamped a hand around Cedric’s wrist despite his protest and hauled him out of his seat and out of the room. She had to threaten to hex him to get him to come with her, but she couldn’t physically make Cedric move by herself.

“What?” Cedric snarled irritably. “Are you the only one allowed to shout at people during these readings now?”

“No,” Harri shook her head. “If you want to shout and argue with your father, I’m not going to stop you. I already told you I would stand behind your decision no matter what it may be.”

“Then why did you pull me in here, Harri?” Cedric asked, still notably fuming.

“You’re really angry right now,” Harri pointed out slowly. “I don’t want you to say something you’d regret later because you’re mad right now. I’ve been in your shoes. And I just didn’t want you to make the same mistakes I have.”

Cedric paused to stare at her for several minutes before seeming to lose his steam. He slid down the wall he was standing next to and heaved an exhausted sigh.

“Could you stop being a good friend?” He asked, his eyes closed. “It would make all of this easier.”

“Make what easier?” Harri inquired, caught off guard.

“It’s nothing,” Cedric shook his head as he patted the spot next to him. “I think I will stay here and cool off for a bit. You are welcome to join me, or you can go.”

Harri slid down next to Cedric and let silence encase them. The minutes ticked by, and Harri wondered if Cedric felt this helpless when she had asked him to sit with her in silence. She wanted to be able to help her friend but wasn’t sure how. She felt as if she had already overstepped by pulling him away. She wouldn’t have liked it if someone had tried to stop her from having an argument she felt she had a right to have. She had shouted at Hermione for trying to do just that.

“I’m sorry,” she finally found the courage to say. “I shouldn't have stopped you from fighting with your dad. It wasn’t my place, and it’s none of my business.”

“You’re right. My relationship with my father is none of your business, and you should have stayed out of it,” Cedric agreed after several tense seconds. “But in a way, I’m glad you stopped me. I still don’t agree with anything he’s done in this chapter, but I don’t think shouting at him in front of everyone was the best option I could have picked.”

Cedric didn’t say anymore after that, and Harri went back to fidgeting next to him. She wasn’t sure if she should comfort the boy or not or if he even wanted her comfort. It took several more minutes for Cedric to feel up to returning to the others, and Harri followed him out without sharing another word between them. Harri couldn’t help but feel she had messed up in a major way.

“Perhaps Amos is suggesting,” said Mr. Crouch, cold anger in every syllable, “that I routinely teach my servants to conjure the Dark Mark?”

There was a deeply unpleasant silence. Amos Diggory looked horrified. “Mr. Crouch...not...not at all.”

“Look at him changing his tune,” Fred sneered in Amos’ direction. “What? Just because Crouch had a little bit of power, you  start regretting the way you’re just throwing your finger at everyone without a lick of evidence?”

“You have now come very close to accusing the two people in this clearing who are least likely to conjure that Mark!” barked Mr. Crouch. “Harriet Potter - and myself. I suppose you are familiar with the girl’s story, Amos?”

“Hypocrite,” Ron muttered under his breath. Crouch accused Harri of the same thing Amos Diggory did. But now he was being accused because his elf was found there; he would use Harri to try and save face?

“But then, she’d have been only a few feet away from the real culprit!” said Mr. Diggory impatiently. “Elf? Did you see anyone?”

“She has a name,” Hermione complained loudly but wasn’t given room to make it an issue as Kingsley refused to stop reading for her to start another fight with Amos Diggory.

“You may rest assured that she will be punished,” Mr. Crouch added coldly.

"M-m-master..." Winky stammered, looking up at Mr. Crouch, her eyes brimming with tears. "M-m-master, p-p-please..."

Percy couldn’t comprehend how he could work under such a man. Winky did not deserve what was about to happen to her. How could he ever have looked up to such a man? He was starting to think he might have even deserved some of the pranks the twins put him through.

Hermione was outraged at how Winky was being discarded like yesterday’s old newspaper. Tears pricked at her eyes in her anger.

“Winky has behaved tonight in a manner I would not have believed possible,” he said slowly. “I told her to remain in the tent. I told her to stay there while I went to sort out the trouble. And I find that she disobeyed me. This means clothes.”

“She would have been trampled if she stayed! This isn’t fair,” Hermione cried.

“Well, at least she no longer has to work under Crouch,” Ron voiced hesitantly next to Hermione.

“You’re right,” Hermione sniffed. “Maybe now she can find someone who will treat her right.”

“The way they were treating her!” said Hermione furiously. “Mr. Diggory, calling her ‘elf’ all the time...and Mr. Crouch! He knows she didn’t do it, and he’s still going to sack her! He didn’t care how frightened she’d been, or how upset she was - it was like she wasn’t even human!”

“Well, she’s not,” said Ron.

“What is wrong with you?” Hermione spat, glaring at Ron.

“She’s not, though,” Ron argued.

Harri watched as Hermione and Ron’s argument grew until they were both shouting at each other. She was glad she had not been sitting between the two. She was sure they would have tried to pull her into their bickering.

Moody’s annoyance spiked as the Ministry workers were simply allowed to deny their involvement and have the matter dropped simply because they worked for the Ministry. That is not how a proper investigation worked. They all should be suspects until more was learned. The blatant basis disgusted him. Anyone of them could have cast the Mark and just claimed otherwise, and they’d be let go. This is why the Order of the Phoenix was formed all those years ago.

Cassandra could only assume that after hearing about the Mark, everyone must have been terrified and were reluctant to believe what it could possibly mean for all of them. Believing an elf had done it would be a far easier pill to swallow than the Dark Lord’s followers were back again, and they had to fear coming home to the Mark hanging above their houses while their families lay dead inside. She could understand why anyone would be reluctant to look further into the matter.

Bill was sitting at the small kitchen table, holding a bedsheet to his arm, which was bleeding profusely. Charlie had a large rip in his shirt, and Percy was sporting a bloody nose. Fred, George, and Ginny looked unhurt, though shaken.

Molly had to tell herself her children were fine. She couldn’t look away from her three oldest boys. They had done her proud by going to help that muggle family, but hearing they had been hurt made her entire body cold.

“Well, Mr. Crouch is quite right to get rid of an elf like that!” he said. “Running away when he’d expressly told her not to...embarrassing him in front of the whole Ministry...how would that have looked, if she’d been brought up in front of the Department for the Regulation and Control -”

Percy looked down at his hands in shame. After hearing everything that happened, he wanted to reach through the book and shake his counterpart. Who cared if the elf had embarrassed Crouch. A man who had been more than happy to accuse his baby brother of conjuring the Dark Mark? Who cared about a man’s reputation who didn’t have the decency to allow his elf to leave before she was trampled to death by a riot?

“She didn’t do anything - she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time!” Hermione snapped at Percy, who looked very taken aback. Hermione had always got on fairly well with Percy - better, indeed, than any of the others.

“Hermione, a wizard in Mr. Crouch’s position can’t afford a house-elf who’s going to run amok with a wand!” said Percy pompously, recovering himself.

Percy didn’t want to accept what he had just said in the book. Shame seeped out of every pore of Percy’s body. It was no wonder his siblings never wanted anything to do with him if that’s what he sounded like.

“Way to be an utter ass,” Fred chortled from his seat.

“Nice to let us all know where your loyalties lie,” George tacked on.

“I didn’t know the whole story,” Percy defended himself weakly.

“Didn’t stop you from sharing your unwanted opinion,” Fred sneered.

“You’re right,” Percy agreed, stopping the twins in their tracks. “I spouted off without knowing everything and made an ass out of myself.”

Fred and George froze in shock at hearing Percy admit he was wrong. Percy had never once admitted that. They couldn’t remember a single time Percy had ever acted anything less than perfect, believing himself to be above everyone else and always in the right.

“Ron, You-Know-Who and his followers sent the Dark Mark into the air whenever they killed,” said Mr. Weasley. “The terror it inspired...you have no idea, you’re too young. Just picture coming home and finding the Dark Mark hovering over your house, and knowing what you’re about to find inside....” Mr. Weasley winced. “Everyone’s worst fear...the very worst...”

Molly could remember well how she feared she would wake up one day to see the Dark Mark over her brother’s home or her own. She could remember how the fear would claw its way in after she had put her children to bed every night.

There was silence for a moment. Then Bill, removing the sheet from his arm to check on his cut, said, “Well, it didn’t help us tonight, whoever conjured it. It scared the Death Eaters away the moment they saw it. They all Disapparated before we’d got near enough to unmask any of them. We caught the Roberts before they hit the ground, though. They’re having their memories modified right now.”

“Thank Merlin,” Hermione sighed, clutching her heart.

Narcissa sighed in relief her husband had not been caught causing such a scene. For she was positive, her husband was among those mask figures. He wouldn’t have missed a chance to cause terror and torment to muggles the way they used to. She still had time to gain Potter’s favour before these books ruined everything.

The Grangers were conflicted on this. While they were glad the muggles had been saved and would not remember the terror they had gone through that night, they weren’t sure it was the best. Who were the wizards to deny those people the right to heal? What would happen if something triggered them later and they couldn’t understand why they were having panic attacks? The wizards weren’t even worried about them; it was all about their secrecy.

Cassandra could see the resentment for the magical community mounting behind Hermione’s parents’ cold gazes. She could understand why they might feel this way. This was the worst of them being revealed to them. She could only assume things would take a darker turn as these books went on. She would have to see if she could smooth some of their worries during the next break.

“Yeah, I bet it was!” said Ron suddenly. “Dad, we met Draco Malfoy in the woods, and he as good as told us his dad was one of those nutters in masks! And we all know the Malfoys were right in with You-Know-Who!”

“Again, with your baseless accusations. A bit hypocritical of you, no? Did you not take offence when fingers were pointed at you without proof?” Narcissa stated her cool gaze looking over all of the Weasleys.

“But what were Voldemort’s supporters -” Harri began. Everybody flinched - like most of the wizarding world, the Weasleys always avoided saying Voldemort’s name. “Sorry,” said Harri quickly. “What were You-Know-Who’s supporters up to, levitating Muggles? I mean, what was the point?”

“So now you can say You-Know-Who,” Ron complained.

Harri shrugged, unsure why she had allowed Arthur’s discomfort over Voldemort's name to stop her from using it. She typically didn’t care.

“The point?” said Mr. Weasley with a hollow laugh. “Harri, that’s their idea of fun. Half the Muggle killings back when You-Know-Who was in power were done for fun. I suppose they had a few drinks tonight and couldn’t resist reminding us all that lots of them are still at large. A nice little reunion for them,” he finished disgustedly.

Disgust filled Harri. How could anyone think killing Muggles was fun? They sounded like nothing but overgrown bullies. They used their power to torment the weak just as Dudley had done to her, just on a massive scale. While fighting Voldemort was never her idea of fun, she would if it meant stopping his followers from ever having the power to commit such acts again.

“Use your brains, Ron,” said Bill. “If they really were Death Eaters, they worked very hard to keep out of Azkaban when You-Know-Who lost power, and told all sorts of lies about him forcing them to kill and torture people. I bet they’d be even more frightened than the rest of us to see him come back. They denied they’d ever been involved with him when he lost his powers, and went back to their daily lives....I don’t reckon he’d be over-pleased with them, do you?”

Narcissa was positive the Dark Lord wouldn’t be pleased with any of them. She was sure his anger would be devastating. She could only hope Lucius would never be at the end of it after these books. She hoped to avoid any blow back from the Dark Lord by choosing Potter's side. Unlike her sister, she didn’t think a trip to Azkaban should be treated like a badge of honour. She liked living in luxury and wasn’t about to throw her life away for a man she believed dead at the time.

Harri was pleased with this idea. She hoped whatever misfortune awaited them should Voldemort really return was painful. They deserved every second of it as far as she was concerned.

Harri got back into her bunk with her head buzzing. She knew she ought to feel exhausted: It was nearly three in the morning, but she felt wide-awake - wide-awake, and worried.

Harri mourned yet another year. She was sure Hogwarts only held more danger for her and her friends. She wondered what it would be this time.

Three days ago - it felt like much longer, but it had only been three days - she had awoken with her scar burning. And tonight, for the first time in thirteen years, Lord Voldemort’s Mark had appeared in the sky. What did these things mean?

“Nothing good,” Bill muttered, looking over at his family in worry.

Dumbledore and Snape exchanged a meaningful look.

Dumbledore couldn’t help but think this was just the start of a war. Voldemort had been trying to come back for three years, and while he was quiet this year, Dumbledore knew he was plotting out there. This book seemed to hint that it was only the beginning of a reign of terror unseen by this generation but an old friend to the previous.

Severus knew the Mark’s appearance could only mean he would have to take up the mantle of spy once more. Would he be allowed to leave his role as a teacher to join the Dark Lord again, or would he be expected to teach the babbling idiots on top of putting himself at the mercy of his old Master? How thin would he be expected to spread himself?

She thought of the letter she had written to Sirius before leaving Privet Drive. Would Sirius have gotten it yet? When would he reply?

Sirius was pleased Harri didn’t doubt he would reply. Harri knew she wouldn’t be ignored by him. While their relationship was rocky at best right now, he hoped he could install this kind of faith again.