They walked back to the campsite amongst raucous singing, dodging leprechauns that were inclined to jump up on top of the crowd and dance over people's heads. Calla was grinning as they all got swept along, passing noisily through the woods. When they got back to the tents, Mr Weasley agreed they could all have another mug of hot cocoa before they turned in, and Calla went to get Matilda before they did so. The little kitten mewed, and pawed at Calla with a bit of a pout. "Shush, Ireland won," she said, carrying Matilda into the boys' tent, where Mr Weasley and Charlie had gotten into a very heated conversation about cobbing.
She and Hermione played with Matilda in the corner, which Matilda seemed to enjoy immensely. Calla wasn't sure how long they were in there for before Ginny fell asleep over the table, spilling hot chocolate over herself, and they were ushered back into their own tent to sleep.
In the way many people do, Calla had failed to realise quite how exhausted she was until she was getting ready for bed, changing wearily into cozy pyjamas and taking her shamrock hat off. It appeared to have left green glitter in her hair, and she smiled as she brushed it out, braiding her hair messily, before lying down and falling asleep instantly with Matilda curled at her side.
The next thing she knew Matilda was whining, pawing at her anxiously and Calla sat bolt upright, Matilda's claws cutting accidentally across her shoulder. Her eyes were wide and worried. "What is it?" she whispered, looking around. Hermione and Ginny were both still sleeping soundly, but Calla couldn't help but feel nervous. She could feel... Something. Nervous energy hung around her. "What's spooked you, girl?"
There was a scream somewhere, breaking the quiet of the campsite - when had it got quiet? - and she could hear footsteps rushing past their tent. "Hermione," she whispered, and Matilda ran over to Ginny, tugging at her sleeping bag. Calla shoved Hermione's shoulder as another scream pierced the air. "Hermione, wake up! Something's wrong!"
"What's going on?" Ginny asked sleepily, just as Mr Weasley burst into their tent, looking frantic. Calla grabbed her warm jumper and jacket.
"We have to go," Mr Weasley told them, as Calla pulled Hermione awake. "Grab a jacket and shoes and let's go!"
She didn't need to be told twice. She chucked Ginny's jacket over to her and scrambled to her feet, shoving her feet into her shoes at the door, grateful that she'd always worn socks to bed. Hermione and Ginny were right behind her as she grabbed her wand and brought Matilda to sit gingerly on her shoulder, before running out of the tent as fast as she could, Mr Weasley following them out.
Outside the campsite was illuminated by an eerie green light, spread over the tents. Over a nearby tent, three people were hung suspended in the air, and Calla stifled a cry. It was Mr Roberts, and a woman and child, likely his family. "What is this?" she whispered, fear rising in her throat. "Who... Mr Weasley?"
"We're going to help the Ministry!" Mr Weasley shouted to them, gesturing to Bill, Charlie and Percy, who had just burst out of the boys' tent. Calla couldn't tear her terrified gaze off of the people hanging in the air.
The child had started spinning like a top sixty feet in the air, head rolling limply. "Stop it!" she cried, rushing forward. "Who's doing this?"
"Get back, Calla," Mr Weasley told her, pushing her towards Harry and Ron. "You lot, get into the woods and stick together." Tears were hot and stinging at the edge of Calla's vision, as someone else screamed and pierced her head. "I'll come and fetch you when I've sorted this out."
The crowd beneath the Roberts family was coming closer, and in the dim green light Calla could make out dark, pointed hoods, shining masks. "Come on," Fred said, grabbing a horrified Ginny's hand and tugging her away towards the woods. Calla followed, heart hammering, and with Matilda's claws clinging tightly to her shoulder.
"Who would do that?" she whispered, shooting a terrified glance back at the campsite. The crowd under the Roberts was only growing, and fear and anger both rolled in her chest. The Ministry wizards seemed to be trying to get through, but the crowd only deepened, and they appeared scared to cast any spell that might make the Roberts fall.
People were still screaming; the sound of it only seemed to grow louder even as Calla ran away from the source. There weren't any lights in the woods, and even if Calla was allowed to cast a light spell she was sure she was too terrified to do anything right. She could hear children crying around her, could hear screaming, and yells as they were shoved about in the dark, panicked crowd. Matilda kept hissing and wailing, but there was nothing Calla could do, just trying to keep herself upright and alive.
There was a yell from Ron behind her and she turned back, heart leaping as her eyes tried to find him. "Ron!"
"What happened?" Hermione said anxiously. "I can't see you, Ron, where are you? This is stupid - Lumos!"
Calla was grateful for the light. She rushed back towards Ron, who appeared to have fallen, and helped the others to haul him up to his feet. "Tripped over a tree root," he said angrily as they brought him to his feet.
"With feet that size, hard not to," drawled a voice from behind them. Calla turned sharply, wand held out, to see Draco Malfoy leaning against a tree, looking entirely relaxed. He seemed to have been watching the scene at the campsite through a gap in the trees. Rage coiled in her gut. Of course he was here, acting so calm. She shot a hateful look at him.
Ron told Malfoy to do something very rude, and Malfoy's eyes only seemed to glimmer brighter. "Language, Weasley," he drawled. "Wand down now, Potter, we don't want you to injure yourself."
She repeated Ron's words from just earlier and Malfoy smirked. "Hadn't you lot be hurrying along now? Wouldn't want her getting spotted."
He nodded at Hermione, just as a blast like a bomb sounded from the campsite, shaking the ground in a flash of green light. That green light. She moved back away from Malfoy, heart thudding. At that moment she wanted nothing more than to run away, as far away as she could and never look back and never see Malfoy or this campsite again. She reached flailingly to grab Harry's arm, as though to silently plead for him to run with her.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione asked Malfoy defiantly, as Calla grasped ahold of Harry's elbow, whole body shaking. There was something familiar about this, horribly familiar. They had to go.
"Granger, they're after Muggles," said Malfoy. He said Muggles like it was a dirty word. "Do you want to be showing off your knickers in mid-air? Because if you do, hang around... They're moving this way, and it would give us all a laugh."
"Hermione's a witch," Harry snarled.
"Have it your own way, Potter," said Malfoy maliciously. "If you think they can't spot a Mudblood, then stay where you are."
"You watch your mouth!" Ron shouted.
"Don't say that," Calla spat at Malfoy. Matilda hissed from her shoulder.
"Never mind, you two," Hermione said, seizing Ron as though to hold him back from lunging at Malfoy.
There was another loud bang from the other side of the trees, louder than anything else they'd heard, and several people screamed, including Calla, and Matilda, who leapt from her shoulder and took off through the trees. "Matilda!" she shouted, scrambling after her. "Matilda!"
"Cal!" Harry yelled after her. "Come back!"
"Matilda'll get hurt!" she yelled, leaning down as she spotted her shivering at the bottom of a tree. She picked her up as gently as he could, Malfoy's voice still floating through the trees over to them. Matilda was shaking, and so was Calla.
"Nervous little thing, isn't she?" Malfoy drawled, and Calla knew with a horrid feeling that he meant her. She gripped Matilda tighter, shuffling closer back to Harry, Ron and Hermione. "I suppose your daddy told you all to hide? What's he up to - trying to rescue the Muggles?"
"And where are your parents, Malfoy?" Harry asked, face contorted in anger. "Out there wearing masks are they?"
"Well, if they were... I wouldn't be likely to tell you, would I, Potter?"
"You're sick," Calla spat at him, angry tears rising to her eyes. "All of you, you're sick!"
"What, Potter? Are you scared, too?" He leaned forward with an awful look in his eyes and Calla shivered, feeling her lip wobble, but she refused to let herself cry in front of him.
"Don't talk to her-"
"Come on," Hermione muttered, shooting Malfoy a disgusted look. "Let's go and find the others."
"Keep that big bushy head down, Granger," Malfoy said, sneering.
"Come on," Hermione said, tugging them away from him. Calla grabbed Harry's arm as tightly as she could, legs shaking a little bit. Those people... She had to get away.
"I'll bet you anything his dad is one of that masked lot!" Ron said hotly.
"Well, with any luck, the Ministry'll catch him," Hermione said. "Oh, I can't believe this, where have the others got to?"
Fred, George and Ginny were nowhere to be found. Calla felt incredibly nervous now; more than that, she felt ill. "Let's keep going," she said quietly. "Please. We'll find them eventually, but we need to get away."
They continued on a little, Matilda shaking violently in Calla's arms. She regretted bringing her now; she was so terrified. Calla was, too.
Just along the path was a huddle of teenagers, whispering to each other. One of them judged the other and turned with wide eyes towards their little group. "Oú est Madam Maxime? Nous l'avons perdue-"
"Er, what?" said Ron.
"Oh..." The girl who had spoken turned around from them, shaking her head. "'Ogwarts."
"Beauxbatons," Hermione muttered as they went on.
"Sorry?" Harry asked.
"They must go to Beauxbatons," Hermione explained. "You know... Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. I read all about it in an Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe."
"Of course," Calla said. "Right."
"They can't have gone that far," Ron said, pulling out his own wand to light it like Hermione's. Calla kept a tight grip under Matilda - her wand probably wouldn't do much anyway if she tried to put up a light - but then Harry let out a shout of frustration.
"Ah, no, I don't believe it. I've gone and lost my wand."
"You've what?" Calla half-shrieked.
"You're kidding?"
"Use mine," Calla said, shoving it into his hand. He stared at her. "It'll work for you, don't worry. I've got Matilda and... Just use mine."
"You sure?" Harry asked slowly, but she nodded quickly, adjusting her hold on Matilda. Harry sent up a tentative light. Calla knew it wasn't as good of a spell as it would have been had he used his own wand, but together with Ron and Hermione he managed to get a decent light in the ground, as they all peered around for his wand.
"Can you see it, Matilda?" Calla whispered, but her cat gave no signs of being able to spot the wand, and she couldn't either.
"Maybe it's back in the tent," Ron said.
"Or maybe it fell out of your pocket when you were running," Hermione suggested nervously. Calla didn't say anything. She didn't want to think of it as an omen necessarily, but this certainly wasn't a good sign. That unease rolled tighter in her stomach.
"Yeah," Harry said, though Calla could tell he was uneasy, too. He never went anywhere without his wand, it would leave him exposed. She felt a little vulnerable too, even though her wand was with her brother just next to her. "Maybe."
There was a rustling noise and she jumped, grasping Matilda tighter. Winky the house elf seemed to be trying to fight her way out of a clump of bushes, struggling. Her movements were very strange, jerky and not slow, but rather unsuccessful, as though she was being pulled back by an invisible hand. "There is bad wizards about!" she squeaked distractedly. "People going high up - high in the air! Winky is getting out of the way!"
Poor thing, Calla thought, seeing her laboured movements and the terror that was plain on her little face. She disappeared into another clump of bushes, panting and squeaking all the way like she was trying to hold off some invisible force. "Wonder what's up with her?" Ron said, peering curiously after her. "Why's she running so funny?"
"She's scared," Calla said, curling her fingers into Matilda's warm fur and stroking her gently. "And I can't say I blame her. We should keep going."
"I bet she didn't have permission to hide," Harry said as Calla led them onwards.
"You know, House elves get a very raw deal!" Hermione was saying indignantly. "It's slavery, that's what this is! That Mr Crouch made her go right up to the top of the stadium, and she was terrified, and now he's got her bewitched so that she can't even run away when people get out and start trampling tents! Why doesn't anyone do anything about it?"
"Well, the elves are happy, aren't they?" Ron said, and Calla and Hermione both glared at him.
"She doesn't look very happy!" Calla said. "She's terrified!"
"You heard her back at the match," Ron said, seeming to quite ignore Calla. "House elves is not supposed to have fun, that's what she said. Seems to me she likes being bossed about."
"I'd hardly say running away from danger is fun," Calla told him bluntly. "And how would you know, Ron?"
"It's people like you," Hermione added hotly, "who prop up rotten and unjust systems, just because they're too lazy to do anything about it!"
There was another loud bang from the campsite and Calla squealed, ducking a little. She caught Ron shooting an anxious glance at Hermione, and felt again very ill at ease; she was terrified herself, but if those people were the type to her Muggles, they could be the type to hurt Muggleborns like Hermione, too. Maybe she was in more danger than the rest of them.
They carried on down the dark path into the woods, eyes peeled for the rest of the Weasleys or anyone they knew. Calla kept glancing around for a flash of red hair, not just for the Weasleys but for Isobel. She had no idea where she, Daphne and Padma might be by now. They passed a group of goblins who were cackling over a bet they'd made on the match, and further still came across a group of Veela surrounded by young men.
"I pull down about a hundred sacks of galleons a year!" one of them was insisting loudly. "I'm a dragon killer for the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Magical Creatures."
"No, you're not," his friend yelled. "You're a dishwasher at the Leaky Cauldron! ... But me, I'm a vampire hunter. I've killed about ninety of them so far!"
"I'm about to become the youngest ever Minister for Magic, I am."
Calla found herself almost giggling at that; she recognised that boy, who was Stan Shunpike, the Knight Bus conductor and definitely not in line to be the youngest ever Minister for Magic. She thought if anyone was going to do that, it would probably be Hermione. "Did I tell you I've invented a broomstick that'll reach Jupiter?" Ron shouted suddenly, and she jumped back with a fright, staring at him incredulously.
"Honestly!" said Hermione again, yanking him back from the crowd of Veela. They turned him around and marched him sharply away. Matilda seemed to be shaking her head, which made Calla smile. By the time the sounds of the Veela and the admirers who had surrounded them had entirely faded, Calla was sure they'd made it to the very dark heart of the woods. They seemed to be alone now. Everything had gone quiet. Calla felt suddenly quite exhausted, and there was a sort of pressure in her head.
She leaned against a tree trunk for a moment, listening out in the silence. "I reckon we can just wait here you know. We'll hear anyone coming from a mile away."
He'd only just spoken when Ludo Bagman came stumbling out of the trees behind Calla. She jumped, staring at him. Even by the feeble light of the three wands, she could make out the strain and worry on his face that had not been there when she'd seen him earlier. "Who's that?" he asked sharply, and Calla drew back a bit, standing by Ron. "What are you all doing in here, all alone?"
The four of them all glanced at each other in surprise. "Well, there's sort of a riot going on," Ron said.
Bagman stared at him. "There's what?"
"On - on the campsite... Some people have gotten ahold of a family of Muggles..."
Bagman swore very loudly. "Damn them!" he shouted, looking around distractedly, and then Disapparated with a small pop.
"Not exactly on top of things is he, Mr Bagman?" Hermione asked, as Calla went to linger by a crowd of small bushes, looking around them for anyone else coming along.
"He was a great Beater though," Ron said, and Harry tugged Calla along down a path to a small clearing where they settled on the grass. "The Wimbourne Wasps won the league three times in a row while he was with them."
Matilda, still quivering, refused to leave Calla's arms as she sat down on a dry patch by a tree. She stroked her gently, trying to calm Matilda down as much as she was trying to calm herself. Harry sat next to her, handing over her wand. "You keep ahold of it," he told her. "It is yours."
"It's not going to be much use if I'm the one using it," she muttered, but pocketed it just the same.
"I hope the others are alright," Hermione said after a short while.
"They'll be fine," said Ron, though he looked worried.
"Imagine if your dad catches Lucius Malfoy," Harry said, watching as Ron made his figure of Viktor Krum walk duck footedly around in a circle, slouching over the fallen leaves. "He's always said he'd like to get him done for something."
"That'd wipe the smirk off of old Draco's face, alright," said Ron.
"Those poor Muggles though," said Hermione nervously. "What if they can't get them down?"
Calla shivered. "They'll be alright," Ron assured them. "They'll find a way."
"Made though, to try something like that when the whole Ministry of Magic's out there tonight," said Hermione. "I mean, how do they expect to get away with it? Do you think they've been drinking?"
"They had costumes," Calla said bluntly. She'd seen what they were wearing. "This was organised. I don't-"
She was cut off abruptly, hearing something from behind her. She got to her feet quickly, grabbing her wand as Matilda scrabbled up onto her shoulder. They all listened with heavy breath. It was like something had staggered through the trees, but it had come to a stop now. "Hello?" asked Harry. Calla glanced at him; they wanted to stay hidden if they could. But there was just silence, even though she knew she had heard something. She couldn't see far, not in this pitch black, but she could feel something nearby them, sense a shape just at the edge of her vision. "Who's there?" Harry demanded.
Again, silence. Matilda let out a tiny meow, creeping to run against Calla's leg. And then the silence was ripped apart by a voice chilling and horrid, one Calla was sure she'd heard before in the back of her mind. "MORSMORDRE!"
She saw the thing even before it appeared. She remembered it; vast, green and glittering, it moved across the darkness and formed a shape, soaring into the sky. Matilda seemed hysterical, pawing at the ground wildly. Ron leapt to his feet. "What the-"
Calla recognises it. The giant skull lingered in the air composed of horrid things like emerald stars, and a serpent writhed its way out of its mouth, flicking like a tongue. She could hear a scream somewhere else in the distance, and a shiver ran through her as she stumbledback. She knew what it was and she'd seen it before. It moved further, higher into the sky, turning the clouds into a haze of greenish smoke. Screams erupted from all around them, and Calla grappled for Harry's hand.
"That's his mark," she hissed as quietly as she could. Her eyes scanned the darkness furtively, but she didn't want to go any closer to whoever had conjured the mark. "Let's get out."
She turned around even as Harry tried to move forward, and she tugged him back with her, trying to run. "Who's there?" he asked, and she groaned, using all her strength to try and drag him back.
"Harry, I just told you, that's You-Know-Who's Mark." His face went whiter. "Whoever's there, we don't want to face them, now come on, let's go."
Matilda was following her and Hermione had taken ahold of Calla's other hand, white and shaking, but they'd only made it a few steps before there was a great series of popping sounds all around them as twenty wizards Apparated out of nowhere. "Duck!" Harry yelled at them, pulling them all down.
Calla half-flung herself to the ground just as twenty voices bellowed, "STUPEFY!"
There was a blinding series of flashing lights and a feeling of a very strong wind blowing through the clearing as Calla panted, pulling Matilda beside her. Beams of red lights like lasers were coming from the assembled wizards' wands, rebounding off of trees and colliding with each other. "Stop!" a voice yelled. "That's my son!"
She changed a glance up to see Mr Weasley running over, and breathed a great sigh of relief. "Ron - Harry," Mr Weasley said shakily, "Calla - Hermione - are you all alright?"
She could barely speak. "Get out of the way, Arthur," said a cold, curt voice.
Mr Crouch appeared in her view and she raised her head higher, rolling onto her knees. Matilda immediately ran onto her lap, shaking beyond belief, and Calla held her tightly as she could, stroking her back and behind the ears in the most comforting way she could manage considering her own hands were trembling, and she sent a glare around at the wizards. "Which one of you did it?" Crouch demanded.
"What?"
"Which one of you conjured the Dark Mark?"
"We didn't do it!" Harry said, looking up at the still glittering skull in the sky.
"We didn't do anything!" Ron insisted, rubbing his head and looking indignantly at his father.
"You've scared my cat," Calla told them with a glare. Mr Crouch did not seem to care.
"Yeah! You did!" Ron said. "And what'd you want to attack us for?"
"Do not lie, sir!" Mr Crouch shouted. He had his wand pointed directly at Ron and his eyes seemed to be about to pop out of his head, giving the impression that he was quite mad. "You have been discovered at the scene of the crime!"
"Barty," whispered a witch in a long woolly dressing gown, "they're kids, Barty. They'd never have been able to..."
"Where did the mark come from, you four?" Mr Weasley asked quickly.
"Over there," Hermione said, still panting a little as she pointed to just beyond the tree line of the clearing. "There was someone beyond the trees... They shouted something... It was some sort of an incantation..."
"Oh, stood over there, did they?" Mr Crouch asked. He rounded on Hermione now, eyes popping out of their sockets. "Said an incantation, did they? You seem very well informed about how the mark is summoned, missy!"
"Because we heard it," Calla said, still clutching Matilda. Mr Crouch turned his wild eyes on her, and she shrank down a little, shoulders shuddering.
At least none of the other Ministry wizards seemed to think it was likely that they had been the ones to conjure the skull, likely because they were children and clearly terrified. Instead, they had all turned their wands to the tree line behind the clearing, and were peering warily over to it. Calla noticed one of the wizards looking very pale, mouth set firm as he gripped his wand.
"We're too late," said the witch in the dressing gown. "They'll have Disapparated by now."
"I don't think so," said Amos Diggory, stepping forwards. "Our Stunners went through those trees... there's a good chance we got them!"
"Amos, be careful," warned a few of the other wizards, looking very wary.
But Mr Diggory just squared his shoulders and raised his wand, marching across the clearing to squint beyond the trees. A moment later he disappeared into that darkness, and Calla held her breath, waiting. Matilda curled in on herself, head burrowed in the crook of Calla's elbow. A few very long seconds later, Mr Diggory shouted, "Yes! We got them!" Calla gasped. "There's someone there! Unconscious - but - blimey-"
"You've got someone?" Mr Crouch asked, sounding entirely disbelieving. "Who? Who is it?"
A twig snapped and the bush leaves rustled as Diggory came back through, appearing before them. Calla gasped at who he was holding limply in his arms. It was... "Winky," she whispered. Mr Crouch whirled around. "We - we ran into her in the Top Box during the match."
Mr Crouch had gone rather white, but he didn't say anything. He whipped back around to look at Winky, who Mr Diggory had just laid down on the ground before him. Crouch looked transfixed for a moment, his gaze held on his house elf with blazing eyes. "This - cannot - be-" he said jerkily. "No."
He moved sharply, darting around Mr Diggory and started off towards the place where they had found Winky, something blazing in his eyes. Calla looked on curiously. "No point, Mr Crouch," called Mr Diggory after him. "There was no one else there."
Mr Crouch either didn't hear him or elected to ignore him. Maybe he just thought Diggory hadn't looked enough; he seemed to be rustling around in the leaves, pushing branches aside and searching as though he expected to find something Mr Diggory had managed to miss.
"But embarrassing," Mr Diggory was saying with a frown. "Crouch's house elf found at the scene of a crime... Right under a conjured Dark Mark... I mean to say..."
"Come off it, Amos," said Mr Weasley. "You don't think the elf could have conjured the Dark Mark? It's a wizard's mark. It requires a wand."
"Yeah," said Mr Diggory. "And she had a wand."
"What?" Mr Weasley said, and Calla stared.
"Here, look." Mr Diggory held up a wand and showed it to Mr Weasley. "She had it in her hand. So that's clause three of the Code of Wand Use broken for a start. No non-human creatures are permitted to carry a wand."
There was another sharp pop as Mr Bagman burst into the clearing, turning upwards to the sky and goggling at the Dark Mark that still lingered there. "The Dark Mark!" he panted, almost trampling Winky as he stumbled backwards. "Who did it? Did you catch them? Barty? What's going on?"
Mr Crouch had returned. He looked slightly like a ghost, his face was so awfully pale, and his hands were empty, having failed to find anything. His moustache was twitching nervously.
"Where have you been, Barty?" Bagman asked. "Why weren't you at the match? Your elf was saving you a seat! Why - Gulping gargoyles!" He jumped as he noticed Winky on the ground. "What happened to her?"
"I have been busy, Ludo," Crouch said. He spoke in that same jerky sort of manner, barely moving his lips, like he was a ventriloquist without a dummy. "And my elf has been Stunned."
"Stunned? By you lot, you mean? But why-?"
It took a moment before he realised, and stared up at the sky again in an awestruck sort of horror. "No!" he said. "Winky, conjure the Dark Mark? She wouldn't know how! She'd need a wand, for a start!"
"And she had one," Mr Diggory said lowly. "I found her holding it, Ludo. If it's alright with you, Mr Crouch, I think we should hear what Winky has to say for herself."
Crouch remained silent, but Calla watched as Diggory waved his wand anyway. "Renervate!"
Slowly, Winky moved, coming back to herself. Her massive brown eyes opened and she blinked them in a confused, almost dazed sort of way as she sat up, looking around at the silent wizards. She turned her head upwards slowly, trailing over Mr Diggory before, with a gulp, she looked at the still glittering emerald skull hanging in the sky. It reflected in her large, glassy eyes. Winky turned, looking furtively around the clearing, and then she burst into loud, wet, terrified sobs. Calla wanted to rush to comfort her, but didn't think that moving to try and do that would go down well with the wizards gathered, or with Mr Crouch.
"Elf!" Mr Diggory barked sternly. "Do you know who I am? I am a member for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures!"
Winky rocked backwards and forwards on the grounds, shuddering in between sobs. Calla looked around at the assembled wizards, none of whom seemed to care about the fact that she was so upset. "As you see, elf, the Dark Mark was conjured here a few minutes ago. And you were discovered moments later, at the scene of the crime, right beneath it! An explanation, if you please!"
"I - I - I is not doing it, sir!" Winky sobbed. "I is not knowing how, sir!"
"You were found with a wand in your hand," Mr Diggory said, brandishing it before her. Winky sobbed harder, but Calla's eyes were momentarily caught on the wand. She looked at Harry sharply, and he recognised it too, leaning forward with a frown.
"That's mine!"
Everyone in the clearing turned to look at him. "Excuse me?" Mr Diggory asked slowly, with an incredulous expression on his face.
"That's my wand!" Harry said, looking around at them all. "I dropped it!"
"You dropped it?" asked Mr Diggory, gaping. "Is that a confession?" Calla stared at him in disbelief. "You threw it aside after you conjured the Dark Mark?"
"Amos, think who you are talking to!" Mr Weasley cried furiously. "Is Harry Potter likely to have conjured the Dark Mark?"
"Er, of course not," said Mr Diggory awkwardly. "Just got... Carried away..."
"I didn't drop it there anyway," Harry told them. "I realised it was missing right after we got into the woods."
"So," said Mr Diggory, eyes returning furiously to Winky, who was cowering at her feet. It was a horrid sight, Calla thought, stomach coiling. "You found a wizard's wand lying around, did you, elf? You thought you'd have a bit of fun, try a bit of magic with it, eh?"
"I is not doing magic with it, sir!" Winky squeaked, eyes wide and trembling with tears. They fell down her cheeks and hung off the ends of her bulbous nose as she sobbed furiously. "I is... I is... I is just picking it up, sir! I is not making the Dark Mark, sir! I is not knowing how!"
"It wasn't her!" Hermione said insistently. She seemed very nervous, speaking in front of the Ministry wizards and witches, and her eyes flickered anxiously to Calla, Harry and Ron. "Winky's got a squeaky little voice, hasn't she? We - the voice we heard was much, much deeper!"
"She's right," Calla piped up, also nervously. "It didn't sound anything like Winky. It was a wizard's voice."
"It definitely didn't sound like an elf," Harry agreed, nodding furtively.
It didn't seem to comfort Winky any, though. "Well, we'll soon see," Mr Diggory growled. He didn't look at all impressed. "There's a simple way of knowing the last spell a wand performed, elf, did you know that?"
Winky trembled, shaking her head in a frantic way. Mr Diggory raised his own wand, holding it tip to tip with Harry's one, and said quietly, "Priori incantata."
Calla's stomach twisted as she saw another monstrous skull rise from the space between the two wands. It was a shadow of the one already hanging in the sky, with only a greenish tinge, but it was still horrible. "Deletrius," Mr Diggory said, and the skull whisper away.
"So," Diggory said, eyes glinting with a savage sort of triumph. He looked down at Winky, who shook convulsively, looking around her in a frantic sort of terror.
"I is not doing it!" she squealed. "I is not, I is not, I is not knowing how, sir! I is a good elf, I is not using wands, sir, I is not knowing how!"
"You've been caught red handed, elf!" Mr Diggory was roaring. Matilda hissed, popping her head up for a moment before she looked down again, and Calla stroked her absently behind the ears. "You've been caught with the guilty wand in your hand!"
"Amos," Mr Weasley said sternly. "Think about what you are sayin. Very few wizards know how to do that spell... Where would she have learnt it, eh?"
"Perhaps Amos is suggesting," said Crouch slowly, and coldly, "that I routinely teach my servants how to conjure the Dark Mark?"
There was an uneasy silence around the clearing, broken by Winky's whimpering and Matilda's small mewing. "Mr Crouch," Mr Diggory said, looking quite horrified, "I... Not at all..."
"You have now come close to accusing the two people in this clearing least likely to have conjured that mark," Mr Crouch barked at Diggory. "Harry Potter - and myself! I assume you are familiar with the boy's story, Amos?"
"Of - of course!" Mr Diggory muttered. He was looking very uncomfortable; Calla hardened her gaze towards him. "Everyone knows..."
"And I trust you to remember the many proofs I have provided over a long career that I simply detest any of the sort who would conjure that Dark Mark? That I detest the Dark Arts and all those who practise them!" Mr Crouch's eyes seemed to be bulging again in his fury.
"Mr Crouch, I - I never suggested you had anything to do with it!"
"If you accuse my elf, you accuse me, Diggory! Where else would she have learned to conjure it?"
"She - she might've picked it up anywhere-"
"Precisely, Amos," said Mr Weasley, interjecting. "She might've picked it up anywhere. Winky?" He turned towards her kindly, but Winky flinched anyway as though she was expecting to be shouted at again. She clutched her tea-cozy tightly, graying it between her spindly fingers, her bony little shoulders shaking. "Where exactly did you find Harry's wand?"
"I - I is finding it over there, sir," she whispered, trembling all over. "In the... In the trees, sir."
"You see, Amos?" Mr Weasley said. "Whoever conjured the Dark Mark could have Disapparated right after they did so, leaving Harry's wand behind. A clever thing to do, not using their own wand, which could have incriminated them. And poor Winky here simply had the misfortune to pick it up afterwards, just moments later."
"But then she'd have been mere feet away from the real culprit!" Mr Diggory said impatiently. "Elf! Did you see anyone?"
Winky started trembling even worse than before. She was trembling so much Calla was sure she would fall apart. Her giant eyes flickered between the wizards assembled before her, from Diggory to Bagman and then to Mr Crouch, at which point she sobbed even louder and had to gulp deeply before she spoke. "I is seeing no one, sir... No one..."
"Amos," Mr Crouch said in a curt way. "I am fully aware that in the regular course of events, you would want to take Winky in to your Department for questioning. I ask you, however, to allow me to deal with her."
Diggory blinked in surprise, but didn't seem to have the courage to refuse Crouch. "You may rest assure she will be punished," Crouch said coldly, and Calla shivered. She'd seen some of the ways Dobby had insisted on punishing himself last year and she hated to think what might happen to Winky now, for merely being in the wrong place at the wrong time, because her master was embarrassed.
"M-m-m-master," Winky pleaded, gasping. "M-m-master, p-please..."
Crouch's face was entirely devoid of pity. It was horrid, Calla thought, as she clutched Matilda ever tighter, watching Winky in horror. "Winky has behaved tonight in a manner I would not have thought possible," he said slowly. "I told her to stay 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!" Winky shrieked, trembling with tears as she lay herself prostrate at Crouch's feet, wailing. "No, master! Not clothes, please, not clothes!"
"But she was scared!" Hermione shouted out angrily, glaring at Mr Crouch. "Your elf's scared of heights and those people in masks were levitating people and hurting them! You can't blame her for wanting to get out of the way!"
The way Mr Crouch was looking at Winky made Calla's stomach turn; like she was dirt contaminating his so perfectly polished shoes, whom he wanted nothing to do with. "I have no use for a house elf who disobeys me," he said coldly, looking at Hermione. "I have no use for a servant who forgets what is due to her master, and to her master's reputation."
Calla glared fiercely at him, rage spreading through her. Winky was now crying so hard that her sobs echoed all around the clearing, and it was a horrid sound and sight. "You can't do this," Calla said quietly, angry tears burning behind her eyes. "She's clearly been terrified, but she had nothing to do with this. You can't fire her for being scared, anyone would be scared! We're scared!"
"She has disobeyed me," said Crouch coldly. "I can do with her as I like."
Calla wanted to shout, to scream something horrid at Crouch, but Mr Weasley cleared his throat and gave her a quietening look. "Well, I think I'll take my lot up to the tent, if no one's any objections. Amos, that wand's told us all it can now. If Harry could have it back, please."
Mr Diggory handed Harry back his wand, but Calla didn't take her eyes off of Mr Crouch. "Come on, you four," Mr Weasley told them quietly, but neither Calla nor Hermione wanted to go. Hermione's eyes were still fixed on the sobbing Winky.
"We can't leave her here upset-" Calla started, but Mr Weasley shook his head.
"Come on, Calla. Hermione."
Very reluctantly, Calla got to her feet, still staring at Winky. She felt sick as she followed Mr Weasley and the boys out of the clearing, with Hermione at her shoulder.
"What's going to happen to her?" Hermione asked very quietly once they left the clearing behind.
"I don't know," Mr Weasley said quietly.
"The way they were treating her!" Hermione said furiously. "You saw it! Mr Diggory, calling her elf all the time! She has a name! And Mr Crouch knows she didn't do it and he's still going to sack her! He didn't care how frightened she was or how upset, he didn't care at all about her feelings! It was like she wasn't even human!"
"Well, she isn't," Ron said, and Calla shot him the most venomous glare she could manage.
"That doesn't mean she hasn't got feelings, Ron!" Hermione said, rounding on him. "It's disgusting the way-"
"Hermione, I agree with you," Mr Weasley told her quietly. "But now is not the time to discuss house elf rights. We want to get back to the tent as quick as we can. Where are the others?"
"We lost them in the forest," Ron said. "Dad, why was everyone so uptight about that skull thing?"
"That wasn't a 'skull thing'," Calla told him sharply, swallowing. "That was... It's his Mark. V-Vol... You-Know-Who's Mark."
"What? But-"
"I'll explain everything back at the tent," Mr Weasley said tightly. "Come along, quickly now."
When they got to the edge of the wood, they were immediately stopped by a mob of wizards and witches surging forward, looking frantic. Calla stared and shuffled behind Harry, stroking Matilda's head in an attempt to distract herself. They were all asking questions, who conjured it, what it meant, if it was... Him. The thought made her stomach feel very empty.
"Of course it's not him," Mr Weasley said impatiently. "I don't know who it was, it looked like they Disapparated. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to get this lot to bed."
He led them through the campsite. It was quiet now, eerily so, a bit like a ghost town. Some of the tents were smoking, very phantom-like wisps coming out the top of them, and it seemed most had been scared back into their tents or into fleeing the place altogether.
"Dad?" Charlie's head poked out of the boys' tent. "What's going on? Fred, George and Ginny got back okay, but the others-"
"I've got them," Mr Weasley said. "They're alright."
He bent down and entered the tent, and Calla followed him along with the others. She cast a last terrified look out at the campsite, the screams of earlier still ringing in her ears, before she ducked inside. The eldest Weasley boys all seemed to have been injured in some way - Bill holding a bedsheet to a bleeding arm, Charlie with a slightly red-tinged tear in his shirt, and Percy with a bloodied up nose. The others though, Fred, George and Ginny, all looked unhurt, though they were all very pale and Ginny was shaking profusely.
"Did you get them, Dad?" Bill asked sharply. "The person who conjured the Mark?"
"No," said Mr Weasley. "We found Barty Crouch's elf with Harry's wand, but we're none the wiser about who conjured the Mark."
"What?" said Bill, Charlie and Percy together.
"Harry's wand?" said Fred.
"Mr Crouch's elf?" said Percy, looking horrified.
They tried to explain the events in the woods as best they could, though Calla didn't feel like putting in much input. Her mind kept drifting back to Winky sobbing, terrified out of her mind and trying to escape even though she wasn't allowed, holding herself back by her master's orders. And that awful mark in the sky... The Dark Mark. She'd seen it as a Boggart and as a vision, but never in real life and it was even more horrifying as a true memory. Her mind wandered then to something Trelawney had said last year, that had rattled her. She'd talked about a mark on her soul... A dark mark. But she couldn't have that on her soul. It wouldn't make sense.
She sighed as she held Matilda, holding out her hand for her to lick. It calmed her a little, and Matilda seemed contented now she was in somewhere relatively quiet, and that smelled of other cats. She was so glad Matilda was okay - she knew cats were sensitive to loud noises and bangs, she'd seen enough Guy Fawkes' nights to know how neighbours' cats responded - and she didn't want to let her go again.
She tuned back into the conversation just as Mr Weasley started to talk about the mark. "It hasn't been seen in thirteen years," he told them. "Of course people panicked... It was almost like seeing You-Know-Who back again."
Calla held Matilda closer to her. She knew that was a very real possibility, and yet another vision had come true... She'd hoped somehow that they'd have had longer, but she could feel it as certainly as she could see, somehow. He was coming back - maybe not back yet, but on his way.
"You-Know-Who and his followers sent the Dark Mark into the air whenever they'd killed," Mr Weasley said. "The sort of terror that inspired... You have no idea, you're too young. But coming home and seeing the Dark Mark hovering above your house and knowing what you're about to find inside." He winced, and there was pain behind his eyes. Calla could see it. She wondered if the Dark Mark had ever gone up above Godric's Hollow, if he had been assured of his victory... If he'd marked it for everyone to see his sick triumph. She pushed that away, feeling tears again, but she felt Perhaps tears were deserved. "It was everyone's worst fear," Mr Weasley added in a whisper. "The very worst."
There was silence for a moment. Calla curled up, holding Matilda on her knees which were tucked right at her chest. She caught Harry send her a worried look.
"Well, it didn't help us tonight," Bill said finally, peeling a bedsheet away from his wound. "Whoever sent that up. It scared the Death Eaters away the moment they saw it. They all Disapparated away before we could even get near enough to catch any of them. We caught the Robertses before they hit the ground, though. They're having their memories modified right now."
"Death Eaters?" Harry asked. "Who're Death Eaters?"
"His followers," Calla said quietly, and became aware of how hollow her voice sounded. She cleared her throat nervously and looked around them all. "That's what they were called, wasn't it? And those... Those were his followers." A tear spilled over and she wiped it away hastily, aware that everyone was looking at her.
"Yeah," Bill said. "That's what they called themselves. I think we saw the last of them tonight. Those who managed to keep themselves out of Azkaban, anyway." That hadn't seemed like the last of them, Calla thought. Not the remnants of some old and fallen order that had been scattered to the winds and locked in Azkaban. There had seemed like so many of them.
"We can't prove it was them, Bill," said Mr Weasley tiredly. "It probably was, though."
"Yeah, I bet it was!" Ron said suddenly. "We saw Draco Malfoy in the woods, Dad, and he all but told us his dad was one of those nutters in masks! And we all know they were right in with You-Know-Who!"
"But what were Vol- I mean, You-Know-Who's supporters doing levitating Muggles? I mean, what was the point?"
"The point?" Mr Weasley asked. He laughed hollowly. "Harry, that's their idea of fun. Half of the Muggle killings back when You-Know-Who was at large were done for fun. I suppose they had a few drinks tonight and thought they couldn't resist reminding us that some of them are still at large. A nice little reunion for them," he added in disgust.
"But if they were the Death Eaters, then why did they Disapparate when they saw the Dark Mark?" Ron asked, frowning.
"Use your brains, Ron," Bill said. "If they really were the Death Eaters, they worked hard to stay out of Azkaban all these years. When You-Know-Who fell out of power, some of them 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 power and went back to their everyday lives. I don't think he'll be overly pleased with them, do you?"
"So, whoever conjured the Dark Mark," Hermione said slowly, "were they doing it to show support for the Death Eaters or to scare them away?"
"Your guess is as good as ours, Hermione," said Mr Weasley. "But I'll tell you this... It was only ever the Death Eaters who knew how to conjure that mark. I'd be very surprised if the person who did it hadn't been a Death Eater once, if they aren't now... Listen, it's getting very late, and if your mother hears what's happened she'll be worried sick. We'll get a few more hours of sleep and then get an early Portkey out of here."
The girls went silently back to their tent, but Calla couldn't sleep, even with Matilda curled up tightly at her side. From the sounds of it, neither could Hermione or Ginny.
But none of them wanted to talk either. There was a lump in her throat as her mind crawled back to her last visions, to everything about Voldemort... To what Harry had told her about his dream. He was coming back, she knew. Maybe he was back tonight or maybe someone had been trying to herald his return. But either way, she couldn't stop herself from shaking as she lay in bed, cold and tired but too terrified to sleep. Slowly, she could hear Ginny start to snore beside her, and Matilda drooped, and she curled up tight enough that she wasn't shaking all over, though her ribs still felt like they were rattling in her chest, and then finally, she thought, she managed to drop off to sleep.
