Disclaimer: Everything you recognize is J.K. Rowling's except Jamie, Luka, and Ariana.


Chapter 7- The Dark Mark

"Don't tell your mother you've been gambling," Mr. Weasley implores Fred and George as we all make our way slowly down the purple-carpeted stairs.

"Don't worry, Dad," says Fred gleefully, "we've got big plans for this money. We don't want it confiscated."

"Do we look like we were born yesterday?" George questions. Mr. Weasley looks for a moment as though he is going to ask what these big plans are, but seems to decide, upon reflection, that he does not want to know.

They are soon caught up in the crowds now flooding out of the stadium and back to our campsites. The energy from the match is still causing a slight bounce in our steps. Raucous singing is borne towards us on the night air as we retrace our steps along the lantern-lit path, and leprechauns keep shooting over our heads, cackling and waving their lanterns. When they finally reaching the tents, nobody feels like sleeping at all, and given the level of noise around them, Mr. Weasley agrees that we could all have one last cup of cocoa together before turning in.

We are soon arguing enjoyably about the match; Mr. Weasley gets drawn into a disagreement about cobbing with Charlie, and it is only when Ginny falls asleep right at the tiny table and spills hot chocolate all over the floor, and Luka (much to his displeasure), that Mr. Weasley calls a halt to the verbal replays and insists that everyone goes to bed.

I get up from my spot and stretch my cramped limbs with a yawn before helping Hermione get Ginny to her feet and steady so that she doesn't fall over. We bid our goodnights to the boys and Mr. Weasley and go into the tent next to the boys, which fortunately does not indeed smell like cat urine.

While Hermione goes to sort out the sleeping situation I hand Ginny her pajamas from her bag that she brought while getting mine out as well. This set has flying Quidditch balls all over them. When Hermione appears back into the room, she's in her pajamas as well that are a light pink with cats all over them.

"You ready?" She asks us. We nod our heads and stumble to the other room that has the beds in them. They're bunk beds again, and I silently thank my small room back at the Weasley's for the preparation for the top bunk. Ginny crawls into the first bottom bunk that she sees and is almost instantly asleep. I grin softly at that and shake my head fondly. Hermione goes over to another bottom bunk and sits down on it.

By the look on her face, I can tell that there is something that she wants to talk about. I slowly make my way over and plop down beside her. "What's up Mione?" I ask her softly as so not to wake up Ginny. She flicks her gaze at me for a second worriedly then back to the scratchy blanket that's on the bed.

"I've been meaning to ask… how are you doing with not living with Kingsley any more. I know that the Weasleys are great, but it must still be a huge shock and change." Hermione says. I bite down on my lower lip.

I twiddle with the frayed edge of her blanket, only stopping when Hermione's hand comes to a rest over mine. I raise my gaze back up to hers and let out a shaky breath. "Its… okay. There's really not all that much to say about it really. I mean when you've lost one set of parents already to begin with losing another is not that hard. Not that I've lost Kingsley!" I say quickly. Hermione gives me this heavy analyzing look before nodding her head slowly.

"I know that you are in fact hurting Jamie whether you want to talk about it or not. I just want you to know though that I will always be there for you." Hermione tells me. I grin at her softly reminded yet again why the girl is the best friend that I could ever possibly have.

"You're the best Mione. Don't let anyone else ever tell you differently." I tell her. She smiles at me in return and crushes me into a hug.

"We should get to sleep, we don't want to be having to worry about an early start tomorrow." She says. I glance over at Ginny seeing her splayed out on her stomach and one hand hanging over the bed.

I smile softly at the sight. I slide off the mattress and pad over to Ginny softly, picking up her hand and putting it back on the bed beside her, pulling the sheet back over the sleeping girl. I smile softly at her, and turn back around to catch the satisfied look on Hermione's face and the look of knowing in her eyes.

"What?" I whisper confused.

"Nothing Jamie." She tells me, and lays down snuggling into her pillow. With a sigh and a grumble about how damn confusing girls are, I climb up into the top bunk above Ginny. I guess that habits will be hard to change now. I lay down on top of the sheets feeling too hot to sleep under them. I look up at the top of the tent, and I can just barely see the light of the stars through the thin fabric.

This was a good day.


A shrill scream tears me from the pleasantness of sleep. I had been back at Hogwarts playing Quidditch with all my friends, and even Hermione was on the team, and she's bloody terrified of flying. The loud cry breaks through the pleasant dream and I'm startled awake panting wildly my heart attempting to beat its way out of its chest.

"Girls— Ginny— Jamie— Hermione, get up this is urgent!" Mr. Weasley's worried voice comes from in front of us. I push up from my mattress and rub my eyes blearily. The tip of Mr. Weasley's wand illuminates the room.

"Wha's going on?" Hermione asks still half asleep. Ginny finally pushes up from out of her blanket cocoon. I slip down from the top bunk misjudging the distance with my sleep addled brain stumbling a bit, but Mr. Weasley catches and straightens me out. I can finally see his face, and the look of fear present on his face worries me.

"Now's not the time girls, quickly change! We have to go!" Mr. Weasley orders, and the screams from outside get louder. Fear snakes into the pit of my stomach. Oh what's happening now? I don't think that I could take any more bad things for the moment. I feel a squeeze to my hand and I see Ginny there as she lets go of my hand to get changed along with Hermione. When the three of us are changed we stumble out of our tent and into the boys.

The looks on their faces are worrisome as well. Turns out they had a good reason to be.

By the light of the few fires that are still burning, I can see people running away into the woods, fleeing something that is moving across the field towards us, something that is emitting odd flashes of light and noises like gunfire. Loud jeering, roars of laughter, and drunken yells are drifting towards us; then comes a burst of strong green light, which illuminates the scene.

A crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wands pointing straight upward, is marching slowly across the field. Something at the back of my mind shifts. I squint at them. . . . They don't seem to have faces. . . . Then I realize that their heads are hooded and their faces masked. High above them, floating along in midair, four struggling figures are being contorted into grotesque shapes. It is as though the masked wizards on the ground are puppeteers, and the people above them are marionettes operated by invisible strings that rise from the wands into the air. Two of the figures are very small.

Oh Merlin no, not again, never again. I start shaking from my spot next to everyone.

More wizards are joining the marching group, laughing and pointing up at the floating bodies. Tents crumple and fall as the marching crowd swells. Once or twice I see one of the marchers blast a tent out of his way with his wand. Several catch fire. The screaming grows louder. My mouth is dry and I glance over at my brother worriedly. Does he remember?

The floating people are suddenly illuminated as they pass over a burning tent and I recognize one of them: Mr. Roberts, the campsite manager. The other three look as though they might be his wife and children. One of the marchers below flips Mrs. Roberts upside down with his wand; her nightdress falls down to reveal voluminous drawers and she struggles to cover herself up as the crowd below her screeches and hoots with glee.

I feel sick watching the scene going on. Someone has to do something! Stop them! "That's sick," Ron mutters, watching the smallest Muggle child, who has begun to spin like a top, sixty feet above the ground, his head flopping limply from side to side. "That is really sick. . . ." Oh please Merlin let him not be dead!

Suddenly Mr. Weasley and the eldest Weasley boys appear beside us. "We're going to help the Ministry!" Mr. Weasley shouts 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 are already sprinting away towards the oncoming marchers; Mr. Weasley tears after them. Fear lodges firmly in my throat. Ministry wizards are dashing from every direction towards the source of the trouble. The crowd beneath the Roberts family is coming ever closer.

"C'mon," says Fred, grabbing Ginny's hand and starting to pull her towards the wood. Harry, Ron, Hermione, George, Luka, and I follow. We all look back as we reach the trees. The crowd beneath the Roberts family is larger than ever; we can see the Ministry wizards trying to get through it to the hooded wizards in the center, but they are having great difficulty. It looks as though they are scared to perform any spell that might make the Roberts family fall.

Suddenly a sharp pain lances up through my ankle, and with a cry I'm down sprawled on the ground. The pain in my ankle is enough to bring tears to my eyes. I strain my eyes to look around for people, but it seems as my friends and brother have all vanished into thin air.

A new fear rolls over me and it's an icy one. With a soft groan I push up to my feet, and wince when the pain sends me right back down like a sack of bricks. This is just great now I'm injured and alone when there's danger around. I slowly and painfully pull myself over to the trunk of a tree. I bite my lower lip as I am able to see the damage to my leg.

My ankle is two times the size that it should be and a sickly bruise is already beginning to form on it. Merlin this isn't good. I try to remember the last time that I've ever been truly alone. When I had no friends for a while last year, but no there's literally no one around… I could die. I can hear explosions off in the distance and screams. A shiver runs down my spine.

I hope that Luka and the others are safe. Hopefully they're still together and that they don't do anything stupid until someone comes to find us. The cold is beginning to affect me now, and goose bumps rise up along my arms and the back of my neck. After a few minutes of sitting there wallowing in my own self pity I growl angrily. This is not who I am!

I'm not going to just sit here and wait for someone to come and find me even if I am hurt! I've gone up against a giant serpent, Tom Riddle, and a ginormous spider, one little twisted ankle isn't going to take me out now. I haul myself painfully up to my feet, using the trunk as support. I'm wobbly, and I have the sinking feeling that as soon as I try to take a step away, I'm going to be going sprawling on the ground.

Well crap, looks like I've really got myself into a bad spot here. With an annoyed sigh I sink carefully back down to the ground. I close my eyes in relief from the pain, and no sooner have my eyelids dropped does a rustling sound come from the bushes off to the right. I bolt forward immediately unsure about who or what is coming.

I clutch my wand in my hand tightly and level it at the shaking bush. I don't care if I get kicked out now. This is self defense! My wand is shaking in my grasp and I'm about to cast a spell when a person stumbles through. Not just any person though, a blond haired girl in soft pink pajamas. There are a few leaves sticking out of her hair, but I could recognize Ariana Dumbledore from anywhere.

"Ariana?" I ask my voice slightly shaking in the off chance that I'm wrong. The girl jumps and whirls around to face me, pointing her wand directly in my face. I bite my lower lip worriedly, but after a second she realizes that its me with a gasp, and immediately lowers her wand to her side.

"Jamie! What in Merlin's name are you doing just sitting here? Don't you know how dangerous it is at the moment?" Ariana demands lowering her wand and giving me a chastising look.

"Well obviously I do Ariana or I would be back in my tent most likely on fire right now instead of sitting in a dark forest with no bloody idea where I am." I say crossly, my irritation about my situation getting the best of me.

Ariana looks me over as best she can, and sucks in a breath of air when she sees my bad ankle. "Where is Luka? Or at least Hermione, since your friends travel together? I would have thought that you'd be together!" She says dropping to her knees in front of me, and gently probing the swollen area.

I hiss in pain and she immediately draws her hand away with a sheepish look. "We got separated, I tripped over something back there, and obviously hurt my ankle. I've tried walking… it hasn't ended very well for me." I admit. Ariana looks at the forest around us. We can still hear the loud yells coming from the wizards at the campground.

"We're not far enough away. Come on Pendragon, I'm not leaving you behind so up and at 'em!" Ariana says grabbing my by my arms and helping me hoist myself to my feet. She steadies me with an arm around my waist, and I can't help but lean into her for support.

Ariana is a welcome source of heat after being on the cold ground. I instantly blush at that thought, thankful that it is hard to see where we're going.

"All right Dumbledore since you're so smart lead the way. Where exactly are all the others?" I ask her. We start trudging along further into the brush.

"I'm not sure exactly. All I care about at the moment is that we're far enough away from that— that monstrosity. I don't understand how someone can be truly that evil." Ariana says her voice quivering. I glance over at the girl and see pools of water form in her eyes.

"I can… I've seen it with my own eyes many times. Some people out there wizards and muggles combined are truly horrific people who do dastardly things. The thing to remember, or at least try to remember is that there are as many inherently good people out there for every truly bad one, and there are people that can be swayed either way. There is always hope." I tell her shakily remembering things I don't wish to remember.

Ariana is silent for a moment before a soft laugh escapes her. "Since when have you become so philosophical and introspective Jamie?" She questions. I chuckle softly, and shrug my one shoulder.

"Everyone has to grow up at sometime Ariana. I guess that I'm starting to come into mine— kicking and screaming of course, but I'm getting there." I joke. Ariana laughs softly again. The woods around us are becoming denser but we are starting to hear more voices ahead of us instead of behind us.

"Where are the Diggorys?" I ask her. Ariana's eyebrows scrunch in worry.

"Went off to fight with the others. Ced really shouldn't be though, he may be seventeen but he's still a Hogwarts student. He's not ready for this sort of fight." She says. I raise my eyebrow at that information. Sounds like she cares an awful lot about him.

We slow as we begin to hear loud voices directly ahead of us. There is a clearing in front of us, and a little ways away I see the worried and startled figures of my friends. I heave a sigh of relief seeing that they're okay. "Look there Pendragon they're fine, now all we need to find is your brother and my other favorite pair of twins." Ariana tells me squeezing my arm comfortingly.

Before we're able to make it over to them we're halted by a sound. It sounds as though someone is staggering towards our clearing. We wait, listening to the sounds of the uneven steps behind the dark trees. But the footsteps come to a sudden halt.

"Hello?" I hear Harry call out. Stupid! He's just given away that we're all here. I'm going to have to teach boy wonder a thing or two about stealth later.

There is silence. Ariana and I peer around the tree. It is too dark to see very far, but I can sense somebody standing just beyond the range of my vision.

"Who's there?" Harry asks again. Ugh! Seriously Potter! And then, without warning, the silence is rent by a voice unlike any we have heard in the woods; and it uttered, not a panicked shout, but what sounds like a spell.

"MORSMORDRE!" Something terrible in my mind clicks into place. And something vast, green, and glittering erupts from the patch of darkness my eyes have been struggling to penetrate; it flies up over the treetops and into the sky. Oh Merlin… please no.

For a split second, I think it is another leprechaun formation. Then I realize that it is a colossal skull, comprised of what looks like emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. As we watch, it rises higher and higher, blazing in a haze of greenish smoke, etched against the black sky like a new constellation.

I start shaking and my vision begins to blacken as I'm thrown back into a memory that I've never wanted to revisit.

Its dark out and I rub my eyes furiously because its hours past my bedtime and I was supposed to be asleep. I'm held cradled in my mother's arms, my thumb slowly migrating to my mouth because everyone is upset and worried. I can see out the window from my position in her arms. Outside there are lights and I can see a lot of people dressed in black.

Suddenly a shout goes up, and something big, green, and glittering rises to the sky. A giant ghostly skull rises to the sky with a green snake coming out of its mouth. I duck my head under my mom's chin shaking in fear. That is scary. I'm terrified about what's going on now. I'm shaking in her arms, and she pulls me closer rocking me.

"Its okay Jamie, hush baby. This will all be over soon. I promise." I can hear her voice from where I'm pressed against her chest.

"DANNY! You know this is pointless! What I'm asking for really isn't that much! You and Alexis can still walk away from this. All I want are the children! Think smartly Danny. You and Alexis can live and have more children, all I want are these two. One of them has something that I desperately want! You know that Danny, make this easy, give me the kids!" A raspy voice calls out.

"You know I will NEVER do that Augustus!" My father shouts back. There are a few moments of silence.

"Very well Danny, you leave me no choice then."

"Jamie!" Ariana says worriedly shaking my shoulder finally snapping me back into the present. I snap my gaze back to her and she lets out a relieved sigh, before she grows worried again, reaching out her hand to wipe stray tears from my cheeks. "Don't cry Jamie, please don't cry." She murmurs softly. I shake my head and bite my lower lip to get control over my emotions.

Memories like that keep popping up in inopportune moments nowadays. Suddenly, the wood all around us erupts with screams. I don't understand why, but the only possible cause is the sudden appearance of the skull, which has now risen high enough to illuminate the entire wood like some grisly neon sign. I scan the darkness for the person who has conjured the skull, but I can't see anyone.

"Come on let's get to them before they decide to leave." Ariana tells me, half dragging me along to the area where my friends are hiding. When we get close three wands point at us, with scared faces behind them.

"Who's there?" Ron's shaky voice calls out.

"Jamie and Ariana." I respond finally getting back control over myself. We come closer and they're finally able to see our faces. Relieved sighs come from all five of us.

"Thank god! Jamie, we thought we'd lost you!" Hermione cries wrapping her arms around me tightly. I give her a light squeeze, before leaning back into Ariana. Her arm goes right back to my waist. "We can't stay here come on!" She says pulling Harry and Ron by their sleeves, and our group starts across the clearing quickly. Well, I'm going as fast as I can.

But before we have taken a few hurried steps, a series of popping noises announces the arrival of twenty wizards, appearing from thin air, surrounding us. Oh this is not going to be good.

Harry whirls around, and in an instant, he registers one fact: Each of these wizards had his wand out, and every wand is pointing right at himself, Ron, Hermione, Ariana, and me.

Without pausing to think, he yells, "DUCK!" He pulls Ron and Hermione down, while Ariana shoves me down landing on top of me shielding me with her body.

"STUPEFY!" roars twenty voices — there is a blinding series of flashes and I feel the hair on my head ripple as though a powerful wind has swept the clearing. Raising my head a fraction of an inch I see jets of fiery red light flying over us from the wizards' wands, crossing one another, bouncing off tree trunks, rebounding into the darkness —

"Keep down Jamie." Ariana pants into my ear. I can feel the erratic beat of her heart against my back. I swallow thickly and pray that we make it out of this alive. It's not our fault for once too!

"Stop!" yells a voice I recognize. "STOP! That's my son!" Oh thank you Merlin, Mr. Weasley!

My hair stops blowing about. I raise my head a little higher. The wizard in front of us has lowered his wand. Ariana rolls off of me and we see Mr. Weasley striding towards us, looking terrified.

"Ron — Jamie— Harry" — his voice sounds shaky — "Hermione— Ariana— are you all right?"

"Out of the way, Arthur," says a cold, curt voice. It is Mr. Crouch. He and the other Ministry wizards are closing in on us. We scramble to our feet to face them. Mr. Crouch's face is taut with rage. Well I think its safe to say that this isn't going to end well.

"Which of you did it?" he snaps, his sharp eyes darting between us. "Which of you conjured the Dark Mark?"

"We didn't do that!" says Harry, gesturing up at the skull.

"We didn't do anything!" cries Ron, who was rubbing his elbow and looking indignantly at his father. "What did you want to attack us for?"

"Do not lie, sir!" shouts Mr. Crouch. His wand is still pointing directly at Ron, and his eyes are popping — he looks slightly mad. "You have been discovered at the scene of the crime!"

I feel myself to begin to shake with fear. I step closer to Ariana and reach out. I find her hand and clasp it tightly. This doesn't look good for us this time.

"Barty," whispers a witch in a long woolen dressing gown, "they're kids, Barty, they'd never have been able to —"

"Where did the Mark come from, you five?" says Mr. Weasley quickly.

"Over there," says 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?" says 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 —"

"I-It's the truth sir. We couldn't have done it." I speak up finally. Even scared, no one gets to talk to Hermione that way, especially when she hasn't learned how to stand up for herself yet.

Crouch turns his wand and his angry gaze at me, and Ariana steps in front of me slightly. I pull her back, not wanting the Dumbledore to do anything stupid here.

But none of the Ministry wizards apart from Mr. Crouch seem to think it remotely likely that Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ariana, and I had conjured the skull; on the contrary, at Hermione's words, they all raise their wands again and are pointing in the direction she has indicated, squinting through the dark trees.

"We're too late," says the witch in the woolen dressing gown, shaking her head. "They'll have Disapparated."

"I don't think so," says a wizard with a scrubby brown beard. It is Amos Diggory, Cedric's father. "Our Stunners went right through those trees. . . . There's a good chance we got them. . . ."

"Amos, be careful!" say a few of the wizards warningly as Mr. Diggory squares his shoulders, raises his wand, marches across the clearing, and disappears into the darkness. Hermione watches him vanish with her hands over her mouth and Ariana looks after him worriedly.

A few seconds later, we hear Mr. Diggory shout. "Yes! We got them! There's someone here! Unconscious! It's — but — blimey . . ." I wonder who it is?

"You've got someone?" shouts Mr. Crouch, sounding highly disbelieving. "Who? Who is it?"

We hear snapping twigs, the rustling of leaves, and then crunching footsteps as Mr. Diggory reemerges from behind the trees. He is carrying a tiny, limp figure in his arms. I recognize the tea towel at once. It is Winky.

Mr. Crouch does not move or speak as Mr. Diggory deposits his elf on the ground at his feet. The other Ministry wizards are all staring at Mr. Crouch. For a few seconds Crouch remains transfixed, his eyes blazing in his white face as he stares down at Winky. Then he appears to come to life again.

"This — cannot — be," he says jerkily. "No —" He moves quickly around Mr. Diggory and strides off towards the place where he has found Winky.

"No point, Mr. Crouch," Mr. Diggory calls after him. "There's no one else there."

But Mr. Crouch does not seem prepared to take his word for it. We can hear him moving around and the rustling of leaves as he pushes the bushes aside, searching. I bite down on my lower lip. This just doesn't seem right. The voice casting the spell couldn't have been the elf. It was a very deep voice, not squeaky at all.

"Bit embarrassing," Mr. Diggory says grimly, looking down at Winky's unconscious form. "Barty Crouch's house-elf . . . I mean to say . . ."

"Come off it, Amos," says Mr. Weasley quietly, "you don't seriously think it was the elf? The Dark Mark's a wizard's sign. It requires a wand."

"Yeah," says Mr. Diggory, "and she had a wand."

"What?" says Mr. Weasley.

"Here, look." Mr. Diggory holds up a wand and shows 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."

Just then there is another pop, and Ludo Bagman Apparates right next to Mr. Weasley. Looking breathless and disorientated, he spins on the spot, goggling upwards at the emerald-green skull.

"The Dark Mark!" he pants, almost trampling Winky as he turns inquiringly to his colleagues. "Who did it? Did you get them? Barty! What's going on?"

Mr. Crouch has returned empty-handed. His face is still ghostly white, and his hands and his toothbrush mustache are both twitching.

"Where have you been, Barty?" says Bagman. "Why weren't you at the match? Your elf was saving you a seat too — gulping gargoyles!" Bagman has just noticed Winky lying at his feet. "What happened to her?"

"I have been busy, Ludo," says Mr. Crouch, still talking in the same jerky fashion, barely moving his lips. "And my elf has been Stunned."

"Stunned? By you lot, you mean? But why — ?" Comprehension dawns suddenly on Bagman's round, shiny face; he looks up at the skull, down at Winky, and then at Mr. Crouch.

"No!" he says. "Winky? Conjure the Dark Mark? She wouldn't know how! She'd need a wand, for a start!"

"And she had one," says 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."

Crouch gives no sign that he has heard Mr. Diggory, but Mr. Diggory seems to take his silence for assent. He raises his own wand, points it at Winky, and says, "Rennervate!"

Winky stirs feebly. Her great brown eyes open and she blinks several times in a bemused sort of way. Watched by the silent wizards, she raises herself shakily into a sitting position. She catches sight of Mr. Diggory's feet, and slowly, tremulously, raised her eyes to stare up into his face; then, more slowly still, she looks up into the sky. I can see the floating skull reflected twice in her enormous, glassy eyes. She gives a gasp, looks wildly around the crowded clearing, and bursts into terrified sobs.

"Elf!" says Mr. Diggory sternly. "Do you know who I am? I'm a member of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures!" Okay I'm not a fan of Mr. Diggory.

Winky begins to rock backwards and forwards on the ground, her breath coming in sharp bursts. I am reminded forcibly of Dobby in his moments of terrified disobedience.

"As you see, elf, the Dark Mark was conjured here a short while ago," says Mr. Diggory. "And you were discovered moments later, right beneath it! An explanation, if you please!"

"I — I — I is not doing it, sir!" Winky gasps. "I is not knowing how, sir!"

"You were found with a wand in your hand!" barks Mr. Diggory, brandishing it in front of her. And as the wand catches the green light that is filling the clearing from the skull above, Harry recognizes it.

"Hey — that's mine!" he says. Everyone in the clearing looks at him.

"Excuse me?" says Mr. Diggory, incredulously.

"That's my wand!" says Harry. "I dropped it!" Oh Harry no.

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

"Amos, think who you're talking to!" says Mr. Weasley, very angrily. "Is Harry Potter likely to conjure the Dark Mark?"

"Er — of course not," mumbles Mr. Diggory. "Sorry . . . carried away . . ." I roll my eyes at the ground. Seriously some adults have worse reasoning skills then kids.

"I didn't drop it there, anyway," says Harry, jerking his thumb towards the trees beneath the skull. "I missed it right after we got into the wood."

"So," says Mr. Diggory, his eyes hardening as he turns 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?"

"I is not doing magic with it, sir!" squeals Winky, tears streaming down the sides of her squashed and bulbous nose. "I is . . . I is . . . I is just picking it up, sir! I is not making the Dark Mark, sir, I is not knowing how!"

I feel terrible for her. There's no way that she could have possibly done this. The real perpetrator has obviously gotten away.

"It wasn't her!" says Hermione. She looks very nervous, speaking up in front of all these Ministry wizards, yet determined all the same. "Winky's got a squeaky little voice, and the voice we heard doing the incantation was much deeper!" She looks around at Harry, Ron, Ariana, and me appealing for our support. "It didn't sound anything like Winky, did it?"

"No," says Harry, shaking his head. "It definitely didn't sound like an elf."

"Yeah, it was a human voice," says Ron.

"Elves don't know how to cast spells, and to learn that one specifically would be challenging, not to mention pointless." I tell them. Ariana pinches me slightly for my tone and attitude.

"Jamie has a point, as well as the others." She says.

"Well, we'll soon see," growls Mr. Diggory, looking unimpressed. I seriously dislike this guy. He's too closed-minded. "There's a simple way of discovering the last spell a wand performed, elf, did you know that?"

Winky trembles and shakes her head frantically, her ears flapping, as Mr. Diggory raises his own wand again and places it tip to tip with Harry's.

"Prior Incantato!" roars Mr. Diggory.

I hear Hermione gasp, horrified, as a gigantic serpent-tongued skull erupts from the point where the two wands meet, but it is a mere shadow of the green skull high above us; it looks as though it is made of thick gray smoke: the ghost of a spell.

"Deletrius!" Mr. Diggory shouts, and the smoky skull vanishes in a wisp of smoke.

"So," says Mr. Diggory with a kind of savage triumph, looking down upon Winky, who is still shaking convulsively. Really don't like this man who treats others this way. I open my mouth to speak up against him, but Ariana pinches me again with a shake of her head, and I glare at her.

"I is not doing it!" she squeals, 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!" Mr. Diggory roars. "Caught with the guilty wand in your hand!" I'm going to hit him. I'm seriously going to hit him. Ariana tightens her grip on me.

"Don't." She whispers into my ear, now stroking the back of my hand with her thumb.

"Amos," sats Mr. Weasley loudly, "think about it . . . precious few wizards know how to do that spell. . . . Where would she have learned it?"

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

There is a deeply unpleasant silence. Amos Diggory looks horrified. "Mr. Crouch . . . not . . . not at all . . ." Good, He deserves this.

"You have now come very close to accusing the two people in this clearing who are least likely to conjure that Mark!" barks Mr. Crouch. "Harry Potter — and myself! I suppose you are familiar with the boy's story, Amos?"

"Of course — everyone knows —" mutters Mr. Diggory, looking highly discomforted.

"And I trust you remember the many proofs I have given, over a long career, that I despise and detest the Dark Arts and those who practice them?" Mr. Crouch shouts, his eyes bulging again.

"Mr. Crouch, I — I never suggested you had anything to do with it!" Amos Diggory mutters again, now reddening behind his scrubby brown beard. I don't feel any pity for him.

"If you accuse my elf, you accuse me, Diggory!" shouts Mr. Crouch. "Where else would she have learned to conjure it?"

"She — she might've picked it up anywhere —"

"Precisely, Amos," says Mr. Weasley. "She might have picked it up anywhere. . . . Winky?" he says kindly, turning to the elf, but she flinches as though he too is shouting at her. "Where exactly did you find Harry's wand?"

Winky is twisting the hem of her tea towel so violently that it is fraying beneath her fingers.

"I — I is finding it . . . finding it there, sir. . . ." she whispers, "there . . . in the trees, sir. . . ."

"You see, Amos?" says Mr. Weasley. "Whoever conjured the Mark could have Disapparated right after they'd done it, leaving Harry's wand behind. A clever thing to do, not using their own wand, which could have betrayed them. And Winky here had the misfortune to come across the wand moments later and pick it up."

I look gratefully at Mr. Weasley. But then, she'd have been only a few feet away from the real culprit!" says Mr. Diggory impatiently. "Elf? Did you see anyone?"

Winky begins to tremble worse than ever. Her giant eyes flicker from Mr. Diggory, to Ludo Bagman, and onto Mr. Crouch. Then she gulps and says, "I is seeing no one, sir . . . no one . . ."

"Amos," says Mr. Crouch curtly, "I am fully aware that, in the ordinary course of events, you would want to take Winky into your department for questioning. I ask you, however, to allow me to deal with her."

Mr. Diggory looks as though he doesn't think much of this suggestion at all, but it is clear to me that Mr. Crouch is such an important member of the Ministry that he does not dare refuse him.

"You may rest assured that she will be punished," Mr. Crouch adds coldly.

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

Mr. Crouch stares back, his face somehow sharpened, each line upon it more deeply etched. There is no pity in his gaze.

"Winky has behaved tonight in a manner I would not have believed possible," he says 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."

"No!" shrieks Winky, prostrating herself at Mr. Crouch's feet. "No, master! Not clothes, not clothes!"

I know that the only way to turn a house-elf free is to present it with proper garments. It is pitiful to see the way Winky clutches at her tea towel as she sobs over Mr. Crouch's feet.

"But she was frightened!" Hermione bursts out angrily, glaring at Mr. Crouch. "Your elf's scared of heights, and those wizards in masks were levitating people! You can't blame her for wanting to get out of their way!"

Mr. Crouch takes a step backward, freeing himself from contact with the elf, whom he is surveying as though she is something filthy and rotten that is contaminating his over-shined shoes. I hate this man as well. I really despise most ministry workers. Luka is so handling the political side of our estate.

"I have no use for a house-elf who disobeys me," he says coldly, looking over at Hermione. "I have no use for a servant who forgets what is due to her master, and to her master's reputation."

Winky is crying so hard that her sobs echo around the clearing. There is a very nasty silence, which is ended by Mr. Weasley, who says quietly, "Well, I think I'll take my lot back to the tent, if nobody's got any objections. Amos, that wand's told us all it can — if Harry could have it back, please —"

Mr. Diggory hands Harry his wand and Harry pockets it. "I'll also take Ariana back with me as well." Mr. Weasley says glancing at the grip we have on each other. "You have your hands full, and I'll talk to Albus." Mr. Diggory glances at Ariana for the first time and slowly nods his head.

"Come on, you five," Mr. Weasley says quietly. But Hermione doesn't seem to want to move; her eyes are still upon the sobbing elf. "Hermione!" Mr. Weasley says, more urgently. She turns and follows Harry and Ron out of the clearing, us behind them, and off through the trees.

I am still hobbling along with Ariana. "What's going to happen to Winky?" asks Hermione, the moment we have left the clearing.

"I don't know," says Mr. Weasley.

"The way they were treating her!" says 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," says Ron. Hermione rounds on him. Oh boy, he's in for it now. "That doesn't mean she hasn't got feelings, Ron. It's disgusting the way —"

"Hermione, I agree with you," says Mr. Weasley quickly, beckoning her on, "but now is not the time to discuss elf rights. I want to get back to the tent as fast as we can. What happened to the others?"

"We lost them in the dark," sats Ron. "Dad, why was everyone so uptight about that skull thing?"

"I'll explain everything back at the tent," says Mr. Weasley tensely. But when we reach the edge of the wood, our progress is impeded. A large crowd of frightened-looking witches and wizards are congregated there, and when they see Mr. Weasley coming towards them, many of them surge forward.

"What's going on in there?"

"Who conjured it?"

"Arthur — it's not — Him?"

"Of course it's not Him," says Mr. Weasley impatiently. "We don't know who it was; it looks like they Disapparated. Now excuse me, please, I want to get to bed."

He leads us through the crowd and back into the campsite. All is quiet now; there is no sign of the masked wizards, though several ruined tents are still smoking.

Charlie's head is poking out of the boys' tent.

"Dad, what's going on?" he calls through the dark. "Fred, George, Ginny, and Luka got back okay, but the others —"

"I've got them here," says Mr. Weasley, bending down and entering the tent. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ariana, and I enter after him.

Bill is sitting at the small kitchen table, holding a bedsheet to his arm, which is bleeding profusely. Charlie has a large rip in his shirt, and Percy is sporting a bloody nose. Fred, George, Ginny, and Luka look unhurt, though shaken. Luka gets up and runs over to me when he sees that I'm hurt.

"You're hurt! Come sit down." He says helping Ariana lead me over to a chair and down into it. I sigh when I'm finally able to get off of my aching leg.

"Did you get them, Dad?" says Bill sharply. "The person who conjured the Mark?"

"No," says Mr. Weasley. "We found Barty Crouch's elf holding Harry's wand, but we're none the wiser about who actually conjured the Mark."

"What?" says Bill, Charlie, and Percy together.

"Harry's wand?" says Fred.

"Mr. Crouch's elf?" says Percy, sounding thunderstruck. With some assistance from Harry, Ron, and Hermione, Mr. Weasley explains what has happened in the woods. Ariana and I are perfectly happy to let the others explain. Besides I hurt too much to care at the moment. Ariana squeezes my hand, which she's still holding.

When they have finished their story, Percy swells indignantly. "Well, Mr. Crouch is quite right to get rid of an elf like that!" he says. "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 —"

Well I never did like Percy much anyway. "She didn't do anything — she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time!" Hermione snaps at Percy, who looks very taken aback. Hermione has 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!" says Percy pompously, recovering himself. Oh please someone punch him in the nose again!

"She didn't run amok!" shouts Hermione. "She just picked it up off the ground!"

"Look, can someone just explain what that skull thing was?" says Ron impatiently. "It wasn't hurting anyone. . . . Why's it such a big deal?"

"I told you, it's You-Know-Who's symbol, Ron," says Hermione, before anyone else can answer. "I read about it in The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts."

"And it hasn't been seen for eleven years," said Mr. Weasley quietly. "Of course people panicked . . . it was almost like seeing You-Know-Who back again."

"I don't get it," says Ron, frowning. "I mean . . . it's still only a shape in the sky. . . ."

"Its not. The last one… it was at our house. Voldemort was defeated but, it still strikes terror in people. He… he wanted our parents dead and he was so powerful that even after his disappearance that it was still carried out." I say hollowly. Everyone turns to look at me shocked. Luka is starting straight ahead with his jaw locked. It's not something that we like to remember. Ginny comes over to my other side, and hugs me to her tightly. I wrap my free arm around her, holding her close.

"Ron, You-Know-Who and his followers sent the Dark Mark into the air whenever they killed," says Mr. Weasley. He is trying to steer the subject away from us. "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 winces. "Everyone's worst fear . . . the very worst . . ."

There is silence for a moment. Then Bill, removing the sheet from his arm to check on his cut, says, "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 Robertses before they hit the ground, though. They're having their memories modified right now."

Thank Merlin they're okay. "Death Eaters?" says Harry. "What are Death Eaters?" I wince thinking back to that fatefully night long ago.

"It's what You-Know-Who's supporters called themselves," says Bill. "I think we saw what's left of them tonight — the ones who managed to keep themselves out of Azkaban, anyway."

"We can't prove it was them, Bill," says Mr. Weasley. "Though it probably was," he adds hopelessly.

"Yeah, I bet it was!" says 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!"

Wait they met Malfoy in the woods? Well that explains a few things. I'll get the whole story from them later.

"But what were Voldemort's supporters —" Harry begins. Everybody flinches except for Ariana, Luka, and I — like most of the Wizarding world, the Weasleys always avoid saying Voldemort's name. "Sorry," says Harry quickly. "What were You-Know-Who's supporters up to, levitating Muggles? I mean, what was the point?"

"The point?" says Mr. Weasley with a hollow laugh. "Harry, 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 finishes disgustedly.

"But if they were the Death Eaters, why did they Disapparate when they saw the Dark Mark?" says Ron. "They'd have been pleased to see it, wouldn't they?"

"Use your brains, Ron," says 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?"

"So . . . whoever conjured the Dark Mark . . ." says Hermione slowly, "were they doing it to show support for the Death Eaters, or to scare them away?"

Hm… I hadn't thought about that before. "Your guess is as good as ours, Hermione," says Mr. Weasley. "But I'll tell you this . . . it was only the Death Eaters who ever knew how to conjure it. I'd be very surprised if the person who did it hadn't been a Death Eater once, even if they're not now. . . . Listen, it's very late, and if your mother hears what's happened she'll be worried sick. We'll get a few more hours sleep and then try and get an early Portkey out of here."

Hermione, Ginny, Ariana, and I all make our way slowly back into our tent. Ariana looks around since she hadn't been in there before. We quickly shed our clothes back into pajamas and crawl into bed. I can't get up the ladder, so I'm now sleeping on a bottom bunk across from Ginny. I can still tell that the four of us are awake but we don't want to talk.

If we talk about it then that means that it all really happened. The Dark Mark has returned since it was last used at my house eleven years ago. I bite down on my lower lip. This isn't going to be getting any better. Times are changing and growing darker. Let's just hope that the light can always find a way in.