Holy moly... haven't been on in forever haha. I can't believe how fast time flies when you don't look at the days passing... Anyway, this chapter is probably one of the biggest ones I've ever written-nearly 7000 words, the heck? Anyway, enjoy sixteen pages of pure content...

Chapter 8

The Dark Mark

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

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

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

They were soon caught up in the crowds now flooding out of the stadium and back to their campsites. They were met with singing 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.

Rachel was drawn into a discussion with Lukas and Ron about the techniques the players used, and when there was a loud thud and Ginny's hot chocolate spilled onto the floor, Mr. Weasley called a halt to the chatter and insisted that everyone went to bed. Rachel, Hermione, and Ginny went into the next tent and, yawning, pulled on their pyjamas.

"I wish I could experience it all over again," Rachel said.

"Imagine using those techniques during our Quidditch matches," said Ginny, stifling a yawn.

"If we ever make the team, that is," Rachel pointed out.

They said good-night and headed to their beds, still hearing the odd bang or loud singing from the other side of the campsite. Rachel took the bottom bunk underneath Ginny, and Hermione crawled into the bottom bunk of the bed opposite.

Rachel fell asleep quick, and she dreamt that she was the Chaser of the national Quidditch team, and that Lukas was a Beater, and that they had won, and they were lifting the Quidditch Cup over their heads, and Jeremy was standing in the crowd with Jordan, screaming and yelling, and Bagman was announcing their name as the crowd chanted, "Haney! Haney! Haney!" and there was a reporter for the Daily Prophet taking photos, and the camera flashed over and over…

"Rachel, Ginny, get up!" shouted a voice nearby, and Rachel blinked as flashes of light illuminated the top of the tent. "Get up, girls!"

"Dad?" mumbled Ginny. "Whuzzgoingon?"

"Get up, I've got no time to explain—grab your jackets and come outside!"

Rachel heard loud jeering, roars of laughter and drunken yells drift toward them. There came a burst of strong green light. She suddenly felt wide awake and jumped out of bed, reaching for her jeans.

"No, just grab your jackets and go!" shouted Mr. Weasley.

Rachel ditched her jeans and grabbed her jacket, pulling it over her nightdress. Ginny and Hermione were up as well, and they grabbed their wands. Rachel quickly reached for her glasses and shoved them on her nose and they hurried outside, Mr. Weasley following them.

Harry, Ron, Lukas, Fred, and George were already outside, watching a scene going on behind the girls and Mr. Weasley. When Rachel turned to see what they were looking at, she was sure she was going to feel sick.

A crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wands pointing straight upwards, was marching slowly across the field. When Rachel looked closer, it looked as if they didn't have faces; instead, their heads were hooded and their faces masked. High above them, floating along in mid-air, four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes. Two of the figures were very small. Several tents were catching fire.

The four figures were illuminated by the light of the alit tents. It was Mr. Roberts, the campsite manager, with what seemed to be his wife and children. Mrs. Roberts was hanging upside down and her nightdress had fallen down. The crowd below was screeching and hooting with glee.

Bill, Charlie, and Percy emerged from the boys' tent, fully dressed, with their sleeves rolled up and their wands out as Rachel, Hermione, and Ginny joined the boys.

"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 towards the oncoming marchers; Mr. Weasley tore after them. Ministry wizards were dashing from every direction toward the hooded crowd, which was coming closer to where the Weasley children, Harry, Hermione, Rachel, and Lukas were standing.

"C'mon," said Fred, grabbing Ginny's hand and pulling her toward the wood. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Rachel, Lukas, and George followed. They all looked back as they reached the trees. The crowd beneath the Roberts family was ginormous and the Ministry wizards seemed hesitant to perform any spell that might make the Roberts family fall.

The coloured lanterns that had lit the path to the stadium had been extinguished. Dark figures were hurrying through the trees; children were crying; anxious shouts and panicked voices were reverberating around them, and Rachel shivered in the cold night air. She was being pushed by people around her and struggled to keep hold of Lukas' hand. Then, Ron yelled with pain.

"What happened?" said Hermione anxiously, stopping abruptly. Lukas and Rachel stopped as well. "Ron, where are you? Oh, this is stupid, Lumos!"

She illuminated her wand and directed its narrow beam across the path. Ron was lying sprawled on the ground.

"Tripped over a tree-root," he said angrily, getting to his feet again.

"Well, with feet that size, hard not to," said a drawling voice behind them.

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

Ron told Malfoy something rather rude.

"Language, Weasley," said Malfoy, his pale eyes glittering. "Hadn't you better be hurrying along, now? You wouldn't like them spotted, would you?"

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

"Shove it, Malfoy," Lukas said angrily.

"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 mid-air? Because if you do, hang around… they're moving this way, and it would give us all a laugh."

"Hermione and Rachel are witches," Harry snarled, "and Lukas is a wizard."

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

"Watch your mouth!" shouted Ron. Rachel shuddered. Mudblood was a very rude term for a witch or wizard of Muggle parentage.

"Never mind, Ron," said Hermione quickly, seizing Ron's arm to restrain him as he took a step towards Malfoy.

There came a bang from the other side of the trees, the loudest bang yet. Several people nearby screamed.

Malfoy chuckled softly. "Scare easily, don't they?" he said lazily. "I suppose your daddy told you all to hide? What's he up to—trying to rescue the Muggles?"

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

Malfoy turned his smiling face to Harry. "Well… if they were, I wouldn't be likely to tell you, would I, Potter?"

"Oh, come on," said Rachel, looking at Malfoy with disgust, "let's go and find the others."

"Still scared of confronting, huh, Haney?" sneered Malfoy. "Just stick your head in the sand like usual."

Malfoy had obviously said the wrong thing; one moment, Lukas was standing beside Rachel, the next, he was taking big and angry steps forward and gave Malfoy a hard punch to the nose.

"Lukas!" Hermione gasped, while Rachel hurried forward to try and pull her brother off Malfoy. Lukas continued to punch Malfoy in the face and accidentally elbowed Rachel, smacking her glasses against her cheekbone.

A tall figure came sprinting from the trees and Zaine pried Lukas off of Malfoy, who spat at him.

"Let's go," said Zaine sharply, dragging Lukas away while Rachel and Hermione pulled along Harry and Ron.

"You watch your back now, Haney," Malfoy yelled after them, "I'll make your remaining years at Hogwarts a living hell!"

"You shouldn't have done that, Lukas," said Zaine.

Lukas wrestled himself from Zaine's hands. "You try and keep yourself from punching that stupidly smug face when he insults your sister," he snapped.

"Trust me, I'd want to punch him, but I wouldn't have done it," said Zaine.

"Where's Amy?" said Rachel.

"With Ced," said Zaine.

Up ahead, Ron was seething with anger.

"I'll bet you anything his dad is one of that masked lot!" he said hotly.

"Well, with any luck, the Ministry will catch him!" said Hermione fervently. "Oh, I can't believe this, where have the others got to?"

Rachel, Lukas, and Zaine caught up with the others. Fred, George, and Ginny were nowhere to be seen, and it was especially hard to see through the people packed onto the path.

A huddle of teenagers in pyjamas was arguing vociferously a little way along the path. When they saw Harry, Ron, Hermione, Rachel, Lukas, and Zaine, a girl with thick, curly hair turned and said quickly, "Où est Madame Maxime? Nous l'avons perdue—"

"Er—what?" said Ron.

"Oh…" The girl who had spoken turned her back on him, and as they walked on they heard her distinctly say, "'Ohwarts."

"Beauxbatons," muttered Hermione.

"Sorry?" said Harry.

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

"Oh… yeah… right," said Harry.

"Fred and George can't have gone that far," said Rachel. She pulled out her wand, lighting it like Hermione, and squinted up the path. Ron, Lukas, and Zaine did the same, and Harry dug about in his pockets.

"Ah, no, I don't believe it… I've lost my wand!"

"You're kidding?" said Zaine.

Ron, Hermione, Rachel, Lukas, and Zaine raised their wands high enough to spread the narrow beams of light further on the ground; they peered around for Harry's wand, but with no luck.

"Maybe it's back in the tent," said Ron.

"It could've fallen out when we were running?" Hermione suggested anxiously.

"Yeah," said Harry, "maybe…"

Rachel felt uncomfortable, thinking that maybe somebody took Harry's wand, and a rustling noise made the six of them jump. Barty Crouch's house-elf Winky was struggling to get out of some bushes nearby.

"There is bad wizards about!" she squeaked distractedly, leaning forwards and struggling to keep running. "People high—high in the air! Winky is getting out of the way!"

She disappeared into the trees on the other side of the path, panting and squeaking as she struggled against an invisible force that seemed to restrain her.

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

"She probably didn't ask permission to hide," said Zaine. "Our house-elf always asks our dad for permission to do something, they've got to do that."

"You know, house-elves get a very raw deal!" said Hermione indignantly. "It's slavery, that's what it is! That Mr. Crouch made her go up to the top of the stadium, and she was terrified, and he's got her bewitched so she can't even run when they start trampling tents! Why doesn't anyone do something about it?"

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

"It's people like you, Ron," Hermione began hotly, "who prop up rotten and unjust systems, just because they're too lazy to —"

Another loud bang echoed from the edge of the wood.

"Let's just keep moving, shall we?" said Zaine anxiously, obviously concerned for Rachel, Hermione, and Lukas. Rachel wondered if they were truly in more danger because they were Muggle-borns.

They set off again, following the dark path deeper into the wood, still keeping an eye out for Fred, George, and Ginny. They passed a group of goblins who were cackling over a sack of gold that they had undoubtedly won betting on the match, and who seemed quite unbothered by the trouble at the campsite.

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

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

"No, you're not!" yelled his friend. "You're a dishwasher at the Leaky Cauldron… but I'm a vampire hunter, I've killed about ninety so far —"

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

Rachel snorted at the three men. She didn't believe any of them. Beside her, Ron was shouting, "Did I tell you I've invented a broomstick that'll reach Jupiter?"

"Honestly!" said Hermione, and Lukas and Harry grabbed Ron firmly by the arms, wheeled him around, and marched him away.

By the time the sounds of the Veela and their admirers had faded completely, they were in the very heart of the wood. They seemed to be alone now; everything was much quieter.

"I reckon we can just wait here, you know. We'll hear anyone coming a mile off," said Harry.

Just then, Ludo Bagman emerged from the woods. 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 in here, all alone?"

They looked at one another, surprised.

"Well — there's a sort of riot going on," said Zaine.

Bagman stared at him.

"What?"

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

Bagman swore loudly.

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

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

"He was a great Beater, though," said Ron, leading the way off the path into a small clearing, and sitting down on a patch of dry grass at the foot of a tree. "The Wimbourne Wasps won the league three times in a row while he was with them."

He took his small figure of Krum out of his pocket, set it down on the ground, and watched it walk around.

It was very quiet, which Rachel found unsettling. She sat down next to Lukas and noticed that his knuckles were bleeding slightly. He avoided her eyes when she looked at him.

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

"They'll be fine," said Ron.

"Imagine if your dad catches Lucius Malfoy," said Harry, sitting down next to Ron to watch the Krum figure. "He's always said he'd like to get something on him."

"That'd wipe the smirk off old Draco's face, all right," said Ron.

"Those poor Muggles, though," said Hermione nervously. "What if they can't get them down?"

"They will," said Lukas reassuringly. "They'll find a way."

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

Rachel broke off abruptly. Behind her, she'd heard a sound that sounded like somebody staggering toward their clearing. The others waited as well, listening to the uneven steps until they came to a sudden halt.

But she broke off abruptly and looked over her shoulder. Harry and Ron looked quickly around too. 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.

Zaine got up and walked toward the trees and peered into the darkness.

"Who's there?" he said.

Without warning, the silence was broken by a voice Rachel had yet to hear that night. It uttered, not a panicked shout, but rather what sounded like a spell.

"MORSMORDE!"

Something vast, green, and glittering shot from the woods into the sky.

"What the-?" gasped Ron as he sprang to his feet again, staring up at the thing that had appeared. Zaine looked terrified.

Rachel wondered what could be so terrifying about the green thing, but when she looked closely, she saw that it was a skull, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. The sight of it made Rachel squirm uncomfortably.

It rose higher and higher, blazing in a haze of greenish smoke, standing out brightly against the dark sky. The wood all around them erupted with screams, and Rachel continued to stare at the skull, which had now risen high enough to illuminate the entire wood.

"Who's there?" Harry called.

"Harry, come on, move!" said Hermione, tugging Harry backward by the collar of his jacket. Zaine spun back and grabbed Rachel shoulder.

"What's the matter?" said Harry, voicing Rachel and Lukas' confusion.

"It's the Dark Mark, Harry!" Hermione moaned, pulling him again. Rachel shook. "You-Know-Who's sign!"

"Voldemort's — ?"

"Harry, come on!"

They turned, Ron scooped up his miniature Krum, and the six of them started across the clearing when a series of popping noises announced the arrival of at least a dozen wizards, appearing from thin air and surrounding them.

"DUCK!" Harry roared, and Rachel could vaguely see that all the wizards had their wands pointed at them before Zaine pushed her and Lukas down to the ground.

"STUPEFY!" roared twenty voices—there was a blinding series of flashes and Rachel squeezed her eyes shut, terrified. Her hair blew around her from the spells.

"Stop!" yelled a familiar voice. "STOP! That's my son!"

Rachel's hair fell flat. She opened her eyes and glanced up over Zaine's arm; Mr. Weasley was striding toward them, looking terrified.

"Ron—Harry—Lukas"—his voice sounded shaky—"Hermione—Rachel-Zaine—are you all right?"

"Out of the way, Arthur," said a cold, curt voice. It was Mr. Crouch. He and the other Ministry wizards were closing in on them. Harry got up, as did the others..

"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 up at the skull.

"We didn't do anything!" said Ron, who was rubbing his elbow and looking indignantly at his father.

"What did you want to attack us for?"

"Do not lie, sir!" shouted Mr. Crouch. His wand was still pointing directly at Ron, and his eyes were popping — he looked slightly mad, which made Rachel even more scared. "You have been discovered at the scene of the crime!"

"Barty," whispered 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 six?" said Mr. Weasley quickly.

"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 popping eyes on Hermione now, looking at her as if she were lying. "Said an incantation, did they? You seem very well informed about how that Mark is summoned, missy—"

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

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

"I don't think so," said a wizard with a scrubby brown beard. It was Amos Diggory, Cedric's father and Zaine's uncle, who looked at Zaine as if he'd betrayed him. "Our Stunners went right through those trees… There's a good chance we got them..."

"Amos, be careful!" said a few of the wizards warningly as Mr. Diggory squared his shoulders, raised his wand, marched across the clearing, and disappeared into the darkness. Rachel held tightly onto Lukas' elbow.

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

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

Twigs snapped and leaves rustled as Mr. Diggory reemerged from behind the trees, carrying a tiny, limp figure. It seemed vaguely familiar to Rachel, and when Mr. Diggory deposited the figure at the frozen Mr. Crouch's feet, Rachel recognized the figure as Winky the house-elf.

The other Ministry wizards were all staring at Mr. Crouch. For a few seconds Crouch remained transfixed, his eyes blazing in his white face as he stared down at Winky. Then he appeared to come to life again.

"This—cannot—be," he said jerkily. "No—"

He moved quickly around Mr. Diggory and strode off toward the place where he had found Winky.

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

Mr. Crouch didn't listen. He moved around and rustled leaves as he pushed the bushes aside, searching.

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

"Come off it, Amos," said 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," said Mr. Diggory, "and she had a wand."

"What?" said Mr. Weasley.

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

Just then there was another pop, and Ludo Bagman Apparated right next to Mr. Weasley. He looked breathless and disorientated and goggled upward at the emerald-green skull.

"The Dark Mark!" he panted, almost trampling Winky when he turned to face 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 toothbrush mustache were both twitching.

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

"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 wouldn't know how! She'd need a wand, for a start!"

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

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. She opened her eyes and blinked a few times. 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. Upon seeing the skull, she gave a gasp, looked wildly around the crowded clearing, and burst into terrified sobs.

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

Winky began to rock backward and forward on the ground, her breath coming in sharp bursts. Rachel felt a bit bad for her.

"As you see, elf, the Dark Mark was conjured here a short while ago," said 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 gasped. "I is not knowing how, sir!"

"You were found with a wand in your hand!" barked Mr. Diggory, brandishing it in front of her.

As the wand caught the green light that was filling the clearing from the skull above, Harry suddenly said, "Hey—that's mine!"

Everyone in the clearing looked at him. Rachel wondered what made him think that was a good idea to say that at this moment.

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

"That's my wand!" said Harry. "I dropped it!"

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

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

"Er—of course not," mumbled Mr. Diggory. "Sorry… carried away..."

"I didn't drop it there, anyway," said Harry, gesturing toward the spot where Winky was found. "I missed it right after we got into the wood."

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

"I is not doing magic with it, sir!" squealed Winky, tears streaming down the sides of her 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 wasn't her!" said Hermione. She looked slightly nervous. "Winky's got a squeaky little voice, and the voice we heard doing the incantation was much deeper!"

She looked around at Harry, Ron, Rachel, Lukas, and Zaine, appealing for their support.

"It didn't sound anything like Winky, did it?"

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

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

"Didn't sound like Winky at all," said Rachel.

"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 Harry's.

"Prior Incantato!" roared Mr. Diggory.

Rachel gasped. An enormous 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 smoke: 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 the still-shaking house-elf.

"I is not doing it!" Winky 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 wands, 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 know 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. "Harry Potter—and myself ! I suppose you are familiar with the boy's story, Amos?"

"Of course—everyone knows —" muttered 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 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 Harry'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?" said 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." "

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 into your department for questioning. I ask you, however, to allow me to deal with her."

Mr. Diggory looked as though he didn't think much of this suggestion at all, but he seemed not to dare to tell Mr. Crouch no.

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

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

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

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

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

Rachel frowned, feeling terrible for Winky.

"But she was frightened!" Hermione burst 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 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 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 was crying so hard that her sobs echoed around the clearing. There was a very nasty silence, which was ended by Mr. Weasley, who said 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 handed Harry his wand and Harry pocketed it.

"Come on, you five," Mr. Weasley said quietly.

Hermione didn't seem to want to move. She was still eyeing the sobbing elf. Rachel said good-bye to Zaine.

"What's going to happen to Winky?" said Hermione, the moment they had left the clearing.

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

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

"Well, she's not," said Ron.

Hermione rounded on him. "That doesn't mean she hasn't got feelings, Ron. It's disgusting the way—"

"Hermione, I agree with you," said 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," said Ron. "Dad, why was everyone so uptight about that skull thing?"

"I'll explain everything back at the tent," said Mr. Weasley tensely. But when they reached the edge of the wood, their progress was halted.

A large crowd of frightened-looking witches and wizards was congregated there, and when they saw Mr. Weasley coming toward them, many of them surged forward.

"What's going on in there?"

"Who conjured it?"

"Arthur—it's not—Him?"

"Of course it's not Him," said 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 led Harry, Ron, Hermione, Rachel, and Lukas through the crowd and back into the campsite. All was quiet now; there was no sign of the masked wizards, though several ruined tents were still smoking.

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

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

"I've got them here," said Mr. Weasley, bending down and entering the tent. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Rachel, and Lukas entered after him. Bill was sitting at the small kitchen table, holding a bedsheet to his arm, which was bleeding profusely. Charlie had a large rip in his shirt, and Percy was sporting a bloody nose. Fred, George, and Ginny looked unhurt, though shaken.

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

"No," said 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?" said Bill, Charlie, and Percy together.

"Harry's wand?" said Fred.

"Mr. Crouch's elf?" said Percy, sounding thunderstruck.

With some assistance from Harry, Ron, Hermione, Rachel, and Lukas, Mr. Weasley explained what had happened in the woods. When they had finished their story, Percy swelled indignantly.

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

"She didn't do anything—she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time!" Hermione snapped at Percy, who looked very taken aback. Hermione had always gone along best with Percy, and Rachel was slightly surprised to hear her snap at him.

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

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

"Look, can someone just explain what that skull thing was?" said 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," said Hermione, before anyone else could answer. "I read about it in The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts."

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

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

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

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

"Death Eaters?" said Harry. "What are Death Eaters?"

"It's what You-Know-Who's supporters called themselves," said 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," said Mr. Weasley. "Though it probably was," he added hopelessly.

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

"But what were Voldemort's supporters—" Harry began. Every-body flinched—like most of the wizarding world, the Weasleys always avoided saying Voldemort's name, and Lukas didn't like it too much either. Rachel was fine with.

"Sorry," said Harry quickly. "What were You-Know-Who's supporters up to, levitating Muggles? I mean, what was the point?"

"The point?" said 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 finished disgustedly.

"But if they were the Death Eaters, why did they Disapparate 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'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..." said Hermione 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 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."

Rachel, Hermione, and Ginny went back to their tent and entered quietly. They didn't speak much, shocked with the nights' events, and crawled into bed. Rachel took off her glasses and laid them down next to her wand, which she put beside her pillow. She was still shaking as she slowly fell asleep.