"Don't tell your mother you've been gambling," Mr. Weasley told Fred and George as we made our way down the steps of the Top Box.
"Don't worry, Dad, we've got big plans for this money. We don't want it confiscated," Fred said gleefully.
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.
We were soon caught up in the crowds now flooding out of the stadium and back to their campsites. Raucous singing was borne toward us on the night air as we retraced our steps along the lantern-lit path, and leprechauns kept shooting over our heads, cackling and waving their lanterns. When we finally reached the tents, nobody felt like sleeping at all, and given the level of noise around us, Mr. Weasley agreed that we could all have one last cup of cocoa together before turning in.
Fred and George were now dancing around the tent pretending to be Irishmen as they sang an Irish sounding song. Ron however, couldn't let Krum go and kept chanting his name along with the song.
Then Ron stepped up on a low table. "There is no one like Krum!"
"Krum?" "Dumb Krum?" the twins asked before starting to walk about the tent like big apes and clumsy birds as they mumbled; "Dumb Krum!"
"He's like a bird, the way he rides the wind," Ron continued. "He's more than an athlete… he's an artist!"
"I think you're in love, Ron," I smiled serenely as I walked past him.
"Oh shut up," Ron muttered, glaring at me.
But the twins wouldn't let it go.
"Viktor, I love you! Viktor, I do!"
Then Harry and I joined in happily, Harry and me grabbing each other and trying to do a version of a barn dance. We danced awfully, may I add.
"When we're apart my heart beats only for you!" ending with a small pirouette.
And we continued doing this, the twins mocking Krum, Ron trying to argue Krum was practically an artist on Quidditch, Harry and me dancing and chanting the same song, and Hermione watching us amusedly.
It was then that when Ginny fell asleep right at the tiny table and spilled hot chocolate all over the floor that Mr. Weasley called a halt to the verbal replays and insisted that everyone go to bed. Hermione, Ginny, and I went into the next tent. We changed into our pajamas and clambered into our bunks. From the other side of the campsite we could still hear much singing and the odd echoing bang.
I fell right asleep.
Suddenly a voice was shouting to get up.
"Get up! Ginny - Hermione - Anya come on now, get up, this is urgent!"
I quickly got up half awake, half asleep and put on my Nikes.
I knew something was wrong. The noises in the campsite had changed. The singing had stopped. I could hear screams, and the sound of people running. I grabbed my jeans and pulled my wand out before I snagged my jacket. Judging by Mr. Weasley's tone, I knew I didn't have time to do much else. Mr. Weasley himself had pulled on his jeans over his own pajamas and he was just telling Ginny there wasn't time to change. "Come on girls, just grab a jacket and get outside - quickly!"
Doing as we were told, we hurried out of the tent, Mr. Weasley at our heels.
By the light of the few fires that were still burning, I could see people running away into the woods, fleeing something that was moving across the field toward us, something that was emitting odd flashes of light and noises like gunfire. Loud jeering, roars of laughter, and drunken yells were drifting toward us; then came a burst of strong green light, which illuminated the scene.
A crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wands pointing straight upward, was marching slowly across the field. I squinted at them...They didn't seem to have faces... they had – masks?
I already had seen this.
I paled. These were the faceless men of my "visions". First time I saw them, they were surrounding a boy. But here, there was no boy. And the second one –
It was happening now.
High above the men, floating along in midair, four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes. It was as though the masked wizards on the ground were puppeteers, and the people above them were marionettes operated by invisible strings that rose from the wands into the air.
Two of the figures were very small. More wizards were joining the marching group, laughing and pointing up at the floating bodies. Tents crumpled and fell as the marching crowd swelled. Once or twice I saw one of the marchers blast a tent out of his way with his wand. Several caught fire. The screaming growing louder.
The floating people were suddenly illuminated as they passed over a burning tent and I recognized one of them: Mr. Roberts, the campsite manager. The other three looked as though they might be his wife and children. One of the marchers below flipped Mrs. Roberts upside down with his wand; her nightdress fell down to reveal voluminous drawers and she struggled to cover herself up as the crowd below her screeched and hooted with glee.
I numbly went to stand next to the boys. Hermione and Ginny standing next to me. I just stared in disgust.
"That's sick," Ron muttered, watching the smallest Muggle child, who had begun to spin like a top, sixty feet above the ground, his head flopping limply from side to side. "That is really sick…"
"This is madness…" I whispered. "So twisted…" I covered my mouth with two hands. I couldn't stand it. They were hurting them!
At the same moment, Bill, Charlie, and Percy emerged from the boys' tent, fully dressed, with their sleeves rolled up and their wands out.
"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. Ministry wizards were dashing from every direction toward the source of the trouble. The crowd beneath the Roberts family was coming ever closer.
"C'mon," said Fred, grabbing Ginny's hand and starting to pull her toward the wood. Harry, Ron, Hermione, George and me followed. We all looked back as we reached the trees. The crowd beneath the Roberts family was larger than ever; we could see the Ministry wizards trying to get through it to the hooded wizards in the center, but they were having great difficulty. It looked as though they were scared to perform any spell that might make the Roberts family fall.
The colored lanterns that had lit the path to the stadium had been extinguished. Dark figures were blundering through the trees; children were crying; anxious shouts and panicked voices were reverberating around us in the cold night air.
I felt myself being pushed hither and thither by people whose faces I could not see. But someone suddenly slammed into me, making me stumble. I fell back and onto the ground, getting the wind knocked out of me and probably a few new bruises.
"Anya!" yelled Hermione.
I could hear them all yelling after me, but I couldn't see anything through the mass of legs, let alone get up. But a foot suddenly shot down onto my hand and I cried in pain. I quickly turned into a ball myself. I could feel when people tripped over me, kicked me and kneed me hard. I had shut my eyes closed.
It was a while when it finally stopped. I tried to stand up but I fell upfront when I pain shot in my left ankle. I looked down. It seemed I had twisted it, or maybe from many people had stepped on it had let it stunned.
Getting up a bit, I tried to hold on to the tree trunk without blinking in pain. I grabbed my wand tightly.
There was nothing I could see in this darkness than the shape of the trees. There was no Hermione, no Harry, and no Ron around.
I sighed at my bad luck. It had to happen now, right?
I limped to tree over tree, not wanting to use the Lumos spell in this darkness. If the masked men were still around the woods, the light would probably beacon them to me.
As quietly as I could, I tried to not whimper. How much time I spent walking through the woods, I don't know.
But then I hear the rustle of the bushes. I stood still, my breath slowing and my heart racing mile per hour. Holding onto the nearest tree, I tried to do myself invisible as possible.
The rustles sounded closer for my liking. Risking a chance, I raised my head and peaked out an eye.
I could see the shape of a man through the shadows.
He was turning around wildly, as if he was afraid to be caught. From the masked men maybe?
But the more I stared, the more I became aware that he looked slightly…off. Mad, perhaps.
He had a dark energy emerging out of him.
Cautious, I took a step back –
CRACK!
I froze and looked down. I had stood on a broken branch.
Snapping my head upwards, I was met with piercing deep cold blue eyes. The man gave three steps, letting the moonlight hit his face. He looked to be in his earlier thirties, blond hair, and by his features I could have the guess he had been handsome in some point of his life.
His crazed eyes stared at me, widening further at my sight. I looked at myself and swore lowly. The moonlight let me be visible.
"Impossible!" he yelled frantically. Trembling, he took shaky steps over me.
I, of course did the most stupid thing. I ran.
Running through the darker woods with an injured ankle was a pain in the arse. I could hear the man's running steps behind me as I turned every corner – err, tree – to lose him.
And then I felt a hand close onto my mouth.
