A/N: I'm going to make this clear. I don't own the Harry Potter series or it's characters. That right goes to JK Rowling

If you haven't yet, read before this story:

The Son and Nephew of the Maurders: The Sorcerer's Stone
The Son and Nephew of the Maurders: The Chamber of Secrets
The Son and Nephew of the Maurders: The Prisoner of Azkaban

Also if you haven't please take part on voting for which story you want me to update next month

The Dark Mark of Voldemort

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

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

"You are better off not asking," James told Mr. Weasley.

They were soon caught up in the crowds now flooding out of the stadiums and back to their campsites. Raucous singing was borne toward them on the night air as they retraced their steps along the lantern-lit path, and leprechauns kept shooting over their heads, cackling, and waving their lanterns. When they finally reached the tents, nobody felt like sleeping at all, and given the level of noise around them, Mr. Weasley agreed that they could all have one last cup of cocoa together before turning in. They were soon arguing enjoyably about the match; Mr. Weasley got drawn into a disagreement about cobbing with Charlie, and it was only when Ginny and Luna fell asleep right at the tiny table and spilled hot chocolate all over the floor that Mr. Weasley called a halt that everyone go to bed. The girls went to the middle tent and Harry, Ron, Neville, James, Sirius, and Remus went into their own tent. From the other side of the campsite they could still hear much singing and the odd echoing bang.

Harry, who was on a top bunk above Ron, lay staring up at the canvas ceiling of the tent, watching the glow of an occasional leprechaun lantern flying overhead, picturing again some of Krum's more spectacular moves.

Harry never knew whether he had dropped off to sleep but he knew it was quite suddenly, James was shouting. "Harry—Ron—Neville—get up now!"

Harry sat up quickly and the top of his head hit the canvas.

"'S'matter?" he said.

Dimly, he could tell that something was wrong. The noises in the campsite had changed. The singing and stopped. He could hear screams, and the sound of people running. He slipped down from the bun and reached for his clothes, but James, Sirius, and Remus were already dressed, just had their clothes over their pajamas. "Just grab a jacket, boys and get outside quickly!" James said.

They did as they were told and hurried out of the tent.

By the light of the few fires that were still burning, he could see people running away into the woods, fleeing something that was moving across the field toward them, something that was emitting odd flashes of light and noises like gunfire. Loud jeering, roars of laughter, and drunken yells were drifting toward them; then came a burst of strong green light, which illuminated the scene.

A crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wands pointing straight upward, was marching slowly across the field. The figures heads were hooded, and their faces masked. High above them, floating along in midair, four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes. It was as though the masked wizards on the ground were puppeteers, and the people above them were marionettes operated by invisible strings that rose from the wands into the air. Two of the figures were very small.

More wizards were joining the marching group, laughing, and pointing up at the floating bodies. Tents crumpled and fell as the marching crowd swelled. Once or twice Harry saw one of the marchers blast a tent out of his way with his wand. Several caught fire. The screaming grew louder.

The floating people illuminated as they passed over a burning tent and Harry recognize 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 don with his wand; her nightdress fell to reveal voluminous drawers and she struggled to cover herself up as the crowd below her screeched and hooted with glee.

"That's sick," Ron muttered, watching the smallest Muggle child, who had began to spin like a top, sixty feet above the ground, his head flopping limply from side to side. "That is really sick…"

Hermione, Ginny, Luna, Mrs. Longbottom, and Tonks came out of their tent. "What kind of magic is this?" Ginny asked.

"Levicorpus jinx," James said. "It controls the target like a marionette puppet."

"James use to use it on Snivels all the time," Sirius said.

"Professor Snape?" Harry asked.

"That was the old me," James reminded them.

"Please tell me you remember the counter jinx," Mrs. Longbottom said as Mr. Weasley and the rest of the Weasley kids showed up.

"Liberacorpus," James said. "But it'll cause the muggles to fall from where they're levitating."

"We'll split into teams of two then and help the Ministry," Mr. Weasley. "One will use the counter jinx while the other saves the Muggle from the fall."

"Sounds good," James said. "Sirius you're with me. Tonks with Remus, Percy with Arthur, Charlie with Bill. Augusta, would you watch over the kids and make sure they get to safety?"

"You don't have to ask. I'll make sure they get to safety," Mrs. Longbottom said.

Everyone splits up in teams of two. Ministry wizards were dashing from every direction less organized to the source of the trouble.

"C'mon, children," said Mrs. Longbottom. "You'll be safer in the woods."

They headed to the trees and hid. The crowd beneath the Roberts family was larger than ever; they could see the Ministry wizards trying to get through it the hooded wizard in the center, but they were having great difficulty.

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 them in the cold night air.

Suddenly there was flashes of light as the mortals fell where they were, but something else seem to have caught them and pull them away from the masked wizard.

"Looks like their plan is working," Hermione said.

"Dad, Uncle Padfoot and Uncle Moony has plenty of experience fighting dark wizards and witches from the last war," Harry reminded her. "Crowd like that is nothing compare to the numbers they use to fight."

"Too bad your dad had to ruin the fun, Potter."

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

"Shouldn't you be hurrying along, now? You wouldn't like her spotted next, would you?"

He nodded at Hermione, and at the same time they could hear struggle between the group and ministry.

"What's that supposed to mean?" said Hermione defiantly.

"Granger, they're after Muggles," said Malfoy. "D'you want to be showing off your knickers in midair? Because if your do, hang around… as soon as they regain control, they will be moving this way, and it will give us all a laugh."

"Hermione's a witch," Harry snarled. "And the ministry will regain control."

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

"You watch your mouth!" shouted Ron as mudblood was a very offensive term for a witch or wizard of Muggle parentage.

Harry and Neville had to restrain Ron from stepping toward Malfoy.

There came a bang from the other side of the trees that was louder than anything they had heard. Several people nearby screamed. Malfoy chuckled softly.

"Scare easily, don't they?" he said lazily. "I suppose your daddies told you all to hide? Are they the ones that saved the Muggles?"

"Where're your parents?" said Harry, his temper rising. "Out there wearing masks, are they?"

Malfoy turned his face to Harry, still smiling.

"Well, if they were, I wouldn't be likely to tell you, would I, Potter?"

"Oh come on," said Hermione, with a disgusted look at Malfoy, "let us go find Neville's grandmother."

"Oh, is Longbottom's grans watching over you? I guess she isn't any better a witch than his parents if she's on the side lines."

Neville stepped forward but Hermione stopped him. "Come on." She manages to get all three up the path again.

"Where did your grandmother go?" Hermione asked Neville.

"I don't know. I think we got separated." Neville said.

They ended up finding a huddle of teenagers vociferously little along the path. A girl with thick curly hair turned and said: Où est Madame Maxime? Nous l'avons perde—"

Realizing she was speaking French Harry spoke up: "Désolé, nous sommes des étudiante de Hogwarts."

"Oh pardon."

She turned her back to them.

"You know French?" Hermione asked.

"A little bit—and Bulgarian," Harry admitted. "Uncle Moony taught it to me, but I'm not as fluent as him."

"What were they asking?" Neville asked.

"They asked where Madam Maxime is. Apparently, they lost something," Harry said.

"They must go to Beauxbatons," said Hermione. "It's a magical school in France."

"Oh yeah. That is where I heard Madam Maxime from—Professor Dumbledore told me about her. She's the headmistress there," Harry said.

"Fred and George can't have gone that far," said Ron.

They followed the dark path deeper into the wood, still looking for the rest of their friends. They passed a group of goblins who were cackling over a sack of gold they had undoubtedly won betting on the match, undisturbed by the trouble going on. They then saw three tall and beautiful veela standing in a clearing, surrounded by a gaggle of young wizards trying to brag loudly to get the Veela's attention. Ron did not help with his own lie about inventing a broom that will reach Jupiter.

Finally they found an area that was much quieter, and they were alone.

"Hey guys, I know we're underage, but I don't think the Ministry would expel us for using magic with everything going on," Neville said.

"Good idea," Hermione agreed.

Hermione Harry and Ron took out their wand and use 'Lumos' to light the way. Neville however was searching all over him. "Oh no. I think I lost my wand."

"You're kidding!" Hermione responded.

"This is a really bad time to lose something Neville," Ron said.

"Maybe you forgot it back in the tent," Harry said.

Out of the four of them, Neville had a history of losing his possessions or forgetting it.

A rustling noise nearby made all four of them jump. Winky the house-elf was fighting her way out of a clump of bushes nearby. She was moving in a most peculiar fashion, apparently with great difficulty; it was as though someone invisible were trying to hold her back.

"There is bad wizards!" she squeaked distractedly as she leaned forward and labored to keep running. "Winky is getting out of the way!"

And she disappeared into the threes on the other side of the path, panting and squeaking as she fought the force that was restraining her.

"Okay, even for a house elf, that's weird," Harry said. "Even if she was ordered not to leave, she shouldn't be struggling like that."

"You know, house-elves get a very raw deal!" said Hermione indignantly.

"Hermione, not all house elves are treated poorly," Harry said.

"But Mr. Crouch clearly is. He made her go up to the top of the stadium, and she was terrified, and now look at her!" Hermione argued. "Why doesn't anyone do something about it?"

Another loud bang echoed form the edge of the wood.

That was when Ludo Bagman emerged from behind a tree right ahead of them. Even by the light of three wands, Harry could see that a great change had come over Bagman. He no longer looked buoyant and rosy faced; there was no more spring in his step. He looked very white and strained.

"Who's that?" he said, blinking down at them, trying to make out their faces. "What are you doing here, all alone?"

They looked at one another surprise.

"We're hiding from the riot going on," Neville said.

Bagman stared at him. "What?"

"At the campsite… some people have got hold of a Muggle family…"

Bagman swore loudly, looking quite distracted and without another word, he Disapparated with a small pop!

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

"He was a great Beater though," said Ron, sitting down on a patch of dry grass. "The Wimbourne Wasp won the league three times in a row while he was with them."

Harry was listening for noise from the campsite. Everything seemed much quieter. He hoped things now were under control.

"I hope the others are okay," said Hermione after a while.

"They should be as long as they're with Grans," Neville said. "But she probably going to scream like a howler when she finds us though."

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

But she broke off abruptly and looked over her shoulder. Harry, Neville, and Ron looked around. It sounded as though someone was staggering toward their clearing. They waited, listening to the sounds of the uneven steps behind the dark trees. But the footsteps came to a sudden halt.

"Hello?" called Harry.

There was silence. Harry got to his feet and peered around the tree. It was too dark to see very far, but he could sense somebody standing just beyond the range of his vision.

"Who's there?" he said.

And then, without warning, the silence was rent by a voice unlike any they had heard in the wood; and it uttered what sounded like a spell: "MORSMORDE!"

And something vast, green, glittering erupted from the patch of darkness Harry's eyes had been struggling to penetrate; it flew up over the treetops and into the sky. It was a colossal skull, comprised of what looked like emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. As they watched, it rose higher and higher, blazing in the haze of greenish smoke, etched against the black sky like a new constellation.

"What the—?" gasped Ron as they sprang to their feet at the site.

"Not good," Harry said, as he knew what it was, even though it was the first time he seen it in person.

Suddenly, the wood all around them erupted with screams as if any wizard and witch that saw the skull knew what it was: The Dark mark of Voldemort.

Harry scanned the darkness for the person who had conjured the skull, but he could not see anyone.

"We got to get out of here," Harry said.

The four of them started across the clearing, but before they had taken a few hurried steps, a series of popping noises announced the arrival of twenty wizards, appearing from thin air, surrounding them, each having a wand out pointing right at them.

Harry tackled his friends and manage to knock all three down to the ground.

"STUPEFY!" roared voices as a series of flashes rippled through with a powerful wind.

"Stop!" yelled a voice. "STOP! That's our sons!"

Harry raised his head higher as the wizard in front of him had lowered his wand. Mr. Weasley along with the original Maurders stride toward them.

"Ron—Harry—Hermione—Neville—are you, all right?" James asked.

"Out of the way, Arthur," said the cold curt voice of Mr. Crouch. He and the other Ministry wizards were closing on them. Mr. Crouch's face was taut with rage.

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

"We didn't do that!" said Harry, gesturing to the mark.

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

"Take your wand off my nephew and his friends, Crouch," Sirius growled.

"Kids, do you know where the mark come from?" Remus asked.

"Over there," said Hermione shakily pointing at the place where they had heard the voice. "There was someone behind the trees… they shouted words—an incantation—"

"Oh, stood over there, did they?" said Mr. Crouch, turning his 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—"

"Hermione Granger is a Muggle-Born Witch, Crouch," James defended. "You of all people should know death eaters would kill Muggle-Borns before allowing one in their ranks."

"We might have stunned the culprit," said a wizard with a scrubby beard—Amos Digory. "Our Stunners went right through those trees… there's a good chance we got them…"

"Amos be careful!" said a few wizards warningly as Mr. Diggory squared his shoulders, raised his wand, march across the clearing, and disappeared into the darkness.

A few seconds later, they heard Mr. Diggory shout. "Yes! We got them! There is someone here! Unconscious! It's—but—"

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

They heard snapping twigs, the rustling of leaves, and then crunching footsteps as Mr. Diggory reemerged from behind the trees. He was carrying a tiny, limp figure in his arms. Harry recognize it as Winky.

Mr. Crouch did not move or speak as Mr. Diggory deposited his elf on the ground at his feet. The other Ministry wizards were all staring at Mr. Crouch. For a few seconds, Crouch remain transfixed, his eyes blazing in his white face as he stared down at Winky.

"Wait, we saw her earlier," Harry said. "We saw her running through here before the dark wizard appeared. She might have been hiding and was accidentally stunned."

"No one else is there though," Mr. Diggory said. "If it's not her—"

Mr. Crouch seem to not hear them. "This—cannot—be," he said jerkily. "No—"

He moved quickly around and rustle through the bushes searching.

"Harry's right. It can't be Winky," James said. "To summon the Dark Mark you need a wand."

"But she had a wand. Here, look." Mr. Diggory held up a wand and showed it to them. "Had it in her hand."

"That's my wand," Neville shouted recognizing it.

Everyone turned to Neville.

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

"That's my wand! I thought I forgot it, but I guess I dropped it," Neville said turning pink.

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

"That's enough Amos. That is Neville Longbottom you are talking too," James said. "I won't stand here and let you accuse Frank's and Alice's son after what they sacrifice for us."

"Er—right. Sorry… got carried away."

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

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

Mr. Crouch had returned empty handed. His face was still ghostly white, and his hands and his mustache were both twitching.

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

"I have been busy, Ludo," said 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 dawned suddenly on Bagman's round, shiny face; he looked up at the skull, down at Winky, and then at Mr. Crouch.

"No!" he said. "Winky? Conjure the Dark Mark? She would not know how! She'd need a wand, for a start!"

"And she had one," said Mr. Diggory. "I found her holding one, Ludo."

"We still don't know if she performed the spell," James said. "She might have found the wand and picked it up."

"That is still against clause three of the Code of Wand Use broken, for a start. No non-human creature is permitted to carry or use a wand."

"Now hold on, let's revive her and ask her what happen," Mr. Weasley said.

"Fine. If it is all right with you, Mr. Crouch," Mr. Diggory said.

Crouch gave no sign that he had heard Mr. Diggory, but Mr. Diggory seemed to take his silence for assent. He raised his own wand, pointed it at Winky, and said, "Rennervate!"

Winky stirred feebly. Her great brown eyes opened, and she blinked several times in a bemused sort of way. Watched by the silent wizards, she raised herself shakily into a sitting position. She caught sight of Mr. Diggory's feet, and slowly tremulously, raised her eyes to stare up into his face; then, more slowly still, she looked up into the sky. She saw the floating skull, and gave a gasp, looked wildly around the crowded clearing, and burst into terrified sobs.

"Elf!" said Mr. Diggory sternly. "Do you know who I am? I'm a member of the Department for the Regulations and Control of Magical Creatures!"

Winky began to rock backward and forward on the ground, her breath coming in sharp bursts.

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

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

"You were found with a wand in your hand. You found this wand, elf? And you picked it up and thought you would have some fun with it, did you?"

"I is not doing magic with it, sir!" squealed 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!"

"It can't be her," said Hermione. "Winky's got a squeaky little voice, and the voice we heard doing the incantation was deeper!"

"She's right. I grew up around house elves, and the voice sounded nothing like a House Elf," Harry said.

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

Winky trembled and shook her head frantically, her ears flapping, as Mr. Diggory raised his own wand again and placed it tip to tip with Neville's.

"Prior Incantato!" roared Mr. Diggory.

A gigantic serpent tongued skull erupted from the point where the two wands met, but it was a mere shadow of the green skull high above them; it looked as though it were made of thick gray some: the ghost of a spell.

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

"So," said Mr. Diggory with a kind of savage triumph, looking down upon Winky, who was still shaking convulsively.

"I is not doing it!" she squealed, her eyes rolling in terror. "I is not, I is not, I is not knowing how! I is a good elf, I isn't using wand, I isn't knowing how!"

"You've been caught red-handed, elf!" Mr. Diggory roared. "Caught with the guilty wand in your hand!"

"Amos!" said Mr. Weasley loudly, "think about it… precious few wizards knew how to do that spell… where would she have learned it?"

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

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

"You have now come very close to accusing the two people in this clearing who are least likely to conjure that Mark!" barked Mr. Crouch. "Neville Longbottom and myself! Neville is son of two powerful Aurors. Then there is me, who have given many proofs over a long career, that I despise and detest the Dark arts and those who practice them?" Mr. Crouch shouted, his eyes bulging again."

"Mr. Crouch, I—I never suggested you had anything to do with it!" Amos Diggory muttered again, now reddening behind his scrubby brown beard.

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

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

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

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

"I—I is finding it… finding it there, sir…" she whispered, "there… in the trees, sir…"

"You see, Amos. Just as suggested before. Whoever conjured the Mark could have Disapparated right after they had done it, leaving Neville'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 picked it up." Mr. Weasley suggested.

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

Winky began to tremble worse than ever. Her giant eyes flickered from Mr. Diggory, to Ludo Bagman, and onto Mr. Crouch. Then she gulped and said, "I is seeing no one, sir… no one…"

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

Mr. Diggory looked as though he did not think much of this suggestion at all.

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

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

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

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

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

Everyone that ever had a house elf knew that when a master presents their house elf with clothes, it means the house elf is freed. It was pitiful to see the way Winky clutched at her tea towel as she sobbed over Mr. Crouch's feet."

"But she was frightened!" Hermione burst out angrily. "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 took a step backward, freeing himself from contact with the elf, whom he was surveying as though she were something filthy and rotten that was contaminating his over-shined shoes.

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

"Maybe so, but Hermione is right," James said. "That's why I'll take Winky in as Potter family house elf."

Everyone turned to James shock.

"Are you sure, James?" Remus asked.

"Positive. I'm sure Molly would appreciate extra help around the house and when we go to Hogwarts, she can work with the rest of my family's house elves in the kitchen," James said. "I'll owl Dumbledore when we get back to get it arrange, but I'm sure he'll help."

James turned to Diggory. "And since Crouch freed Winky, she's still punished. Unless you want to say something against it, Amos."

Amos raised his hands, knowing better than to push his luck any further with James. "As long as Crouch freed her, I'll take it."

"Do what you want, she's no longer my servant," Crouch said.

"Now that is taken care of, Amos, I think Neville can have his wand back," Sirius said.

Mr. Diggory handed Neville his wand and Neville secured it in his holster.

"Let us get back to the camp. I'm sure Augusta is at wits end about Neville," Mr. Weasley said.

James picked up Winky and cradled her as she sobbed. Hermione watched in bewilderment of how James calmly carried Winky back to camp. She followed them through the clearing.

Their walk was halted when they reach a large crowd of frightened-looking witches and wizards. When they saw Mr. Weasley, they rushed over demanding answers about the Dark Mark. All Mr. Weasley could tell them was it was not Voldemort's doing.

Finally they reached their tents.

Charlie's head was poking out of Mr. Weasley's tent.

"Dad, what's going on?" he called through the dark. "Mrs. Longbottom has gone crazy. She came back with everyone but Harry, Hermione, Ron and Neville—"

"We got them," James said as they entered Mr. Weasley's tent.

Bill was sitting at the small kitchen table, holding a bedsheet to his arm, which was bleeding profusely. Charlie had a large rip in his shirt, Tonks was ruffled with many cuts and scratches, and Percy was sporting a bloody nose. Mrs. Longbottom, Fred, George, Ginny, and Luna were unhurt though shaken.

"Neville! Ron! Harry! Hermione! What happened to you four?" Mrs. Longbottom shouted when she saw them. "I look away for one minute and you four were missing."

"Mr. Potter, why are you cradling Mr. Crouch's house elf?" Percy asked.

Those that arrived told their story of what happened. Instead of being angry, Mrs. Longbottom beam with pride for her grandson for staying with his friends.

"Oh, Neville, you really need to stop losing everything," Mrs. Longbottom said.

"Mr. Crouch is quite right to get rid of an elf like that!" he said. "Running away when he'd expressly told her not to… embarrassing him in front of the whole Ministry…"

"Percy! Shut up!" Tonks shouted as Winky wailed and clutched to James chest.

"Can someone just explain what that skull thing was?" said Ron impatiently. "It wasn't hurting anyone… why's it such a big deal?"

"It's the dark mark—symbol of Voldemort," James said. "But it hasn't been seen for thirteen years. Not since—"

James stopped as them was a sobering silence as most understood why. The night Voldemort fell was also the night James' wife—Harry's mother Lilly Potter died protecting her son.

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

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

"Was it over your house that night?" Hermione asked James.

"No, but that's most likely because Voldemort fell before he could," James explained. "But when I came home that night, I knew something was wrong before I entered the house."

There was silence for a moment. Then Bill, removing the sheet from his arm to check on his cut, said, "Well, it did not help us tonight, whoever conjured it. Just when we thought we got things under control, it appeared and the Death Eaters Disapparated."

"Death Eaters, that's what Voldemort called his supporters, right?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," Bill said. "It's most likely those that managed to keep themselves out of Azkaban."

"It could also be Wormtail." Sirius suggested.

James looked at Harry and Harry knew what his dad was thinking as he remembered that dream, he had back at the Dursleys.

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

"Maybe so, but Lucius has Fudge wrapped so around his finger, he probably already weaseled his way out."

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

"Use your brains, Ron," said Bill. "If they really were Death Eaters, they worked very hard to keep out of Azkaban when You-Know-Who lost power, and told all sorts of lies about him forcing them to kill and torture people. I bet they would be even more frightened than the rest of us to see him come back. They denied they had 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?"

"The question remains, why would someone conjure the mark?" Mrs. Longbottom asked. "To support the Death Eaters or scare them away."

"Listen, it's very late, and I'm sure Molly will be worried sick when we get home. So how about we get a few more hours of sleep and try and get an early Portkey out of here." James suggested. "Tonks, would you get Winky settle in your tent?"

"Sure," Tonks said.

"Winky, Tonks is going to take you to her tent. I want you to take the night to do whatever you want as long as it doesn't hurt any of us." James said. "And you don't have to share any of Crouch family secrets."

"I is good house elf. Winky is listen," Winky cried.

"I know you will," James said.

Everyone headed to their respected tents and bunks and slowly doze off to sleep.

A/N: Hermione still going to try and fight for House Elves, but instead of freeing them, she's fighting to treat House Elves equally. That's the whole point of Hermione seeing how James treat Winky. After all slavery only been as cruel as how slave owners treat their slaves, and not all slave owners were cruel to their slaves. Some even treated their slaves as family.

Let me explain. If the house elves are treated as equals they aren't so much as slaves. Slavery often refers to property and because of it, often over looked as lesser than equal and that's often where the problem with slavery starts. But when a slave is treated as family and equals, it defies the whole slaves being property deal as they're treated as living beings and thus they treat the family the same.

Best example is the movie 'Patriot' the main character's family were slave owners, but they treated their slaves as equals and family that when the British tried to free them, the slaves refuse to leave the family later on even welcome the family into their own homes and protected them. If the family had treated the slaves poorly, the slaves wouldn't have welcome the family like that.

Another example is a documentary of Pompeii when Vesuvius Erupted, it showed two families with slaves. One treated their slaves like family and the other treated their slaves like property. When Vesuvius Erupted, the wife of slave owner tried to get the slaves working for her to stay and they abandoned her, meanwhile the family that treated their slaves like humans freed their slaves, and the slaves stayed with the family to the end.

My point is, if the slaves doesn't necessarily mean property, and thus doesn't have to be treated as much, and its shown in history when slaves are treated as equals they aren't anymore property than any inanimate object but a loyal living being, and thus it impacts how their loyalty to the slave master.