August 18th, 1994
Quidditch Trillenium Stadium – Dartmoor, United Kingdom
Harry Potter
-
To say that the wizard's encampment around the quidditch stadium was small was an understatement. A massive understatement no less, the structure of the thing loomed large over the camp, and was probably bigger than most of the muggle football fields in all of the United Kingdom. Tents were gathered together, the colours either red or green or the tinge of beige that most tents looked like. Harry, knowing that most wizards always needed an excuse to use magic, already assumed something about those tents.

Definitely going to be bigger on the inside, what Wizard or Witch wouldn't make those tents bigger on the inside and smaller on the outside.

Harry made sure to keep up with the rest of the group, even as they dived straight into the encampment to find their tent. Cedric and Amos weren't going to be staying with them, even if Harry would have liked the time to speak to Cedric a little bit more. He'd made so many friends in the Gryffindor common rooms, and yet had very few outside of them or even in the non-magical world. Cedric was a Hufflepuff, and he seemed like a nice enough person to know.

"Harry, come on, mate!" Ron called out to him. "You're gonna get lost, keep up!"

It might not have been that special to others, but the size of the event itself was enough to make Harry at least a little shocked. He'd never been to an event like that before, hadn't even been to a football match or a concert, despite his wishes to. They were just another few things he'd have to add to his list of things to do when he was finished, if he ever was finished with Hogwarts and whatever lurked in the wizarding world, he found himself in. He doubted anything was going to hold a candle to the Quidditch final though, the scale of the entire event seemed larger than anything any non-wizarding cooperation could ever do.

The sixteen-year-old soon found himself getting grabbed by his red-headed friend to keep going. He couldn't risk getting lost, not when the match was due to start in a couple of hours. If he thought about it, Harry could have probably wandered around the camp for hours, maybe days even. Ron caught him by the wrist, pulling him out of the wandering crowd of supporters. "Bloody hell, mate. You're all over the place, worse than me even!"

Harry shook himself out of his stupor. "Must still be a bit tired then. Didn't exactly get much beauty sleep, you know?"

"Nightmares again?" Ron asked.

"No, your bloody snoring!"

Ron smacked Harry on the shoulder, the pair chuckling as they ended up at the back of the group. Harry could just see Charlie Weasley, the most collected of the Weasley sons, waving them over to their tent before he entered himself. From what Ron had told him, which was admittedly very little, Charlie and Bill were the coolest of the Weasleys. Bill was a Curse-Breaker who worked for Gringotts, whilst Charlie worked in Romania as a Dragon Reservationist.

Cool, most definitely. Calm and peaceful, probably not. Harry imagined there was quite a bit of cash in it for them though, and Harry definitely wasn't going to argue with that. As Vernon Dursley used to say, money did indeed make the world go round. It might very well have been one of the few things Harry agreed with the man on. Other than that, not very much.

Harry and Ron had entered the tent one after the other, taking in the sight of the tent's interior. Once again, Harry had been right. It was bigger on the inside, and it looked amazing for it. It was nice and cosy, with an enchanted fireplace in the middle of the tent for warmth, multiple wings of the tent all for multiple bedrooms and a main dining room at the back. They'd only be staying for the night, but either way, it was a cheeky little treat for Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys to enjoy.

Still, he couldn't get past the sensation of his scar when he had woken up. Underneath the stickiness of the sweat that clung to him before his shower, there was the pang of pain that laid deep in his scar. That couldn't have been right, the only time the scar hurt was when Voldemort was nearby. He hadn't even been nearby since Harry's first year at Hogwarts. Even so, the Burrow was still standing, it was impossible for Voldemort to be anywhere near him.

He tried to put the thought at the back of his mind. Harry joined Ron as the two boys dropped their packs in their little room. He could hear Fred and George bickering with their older brothers, Hermione and Ginny dropping off their stuff before he could hear Mr. Weasley's booming voice.

"Always the same, can't help but show off when so many are about, eh?" Mr. Weasley said to himself. "Oh well! Couldn't have picked a better spot to set up. We're as close to the stadium as we could be!"

Harry had never been camping before, but if this was the style of camping that wizards ascribed to, then he didn't want to do the muggle version. Everything was so comfortable and homely. He took his jacket off, laying it down on his bed with his pack. Unzipping the smallest compartment of his pack, he heard the jangling and clanging of metal inside. He dug through, finding the two rings he'd hidden away before pulling them out. The house rings for House Potter and House Black, each one slightly different from the other.

The Potter ring was for the Lord of the house itself, a shining golden ring, a blazing red ruby inlaid in the centre surrounded by four smaller rubies. The Black ring was different, made entirely of black folded metal with a sole black sapphire in the middle. It was for the heir of the House of Black, the heir being Harry himself, whilst Sirius remained in possession of the Lord's ring. He placed them on his right hand, over his thumb and third finger. They shifted to match the size of his hand, and Harry smiled as he placed his pack on the floor before he jumped onto the bed. He'd catch a few winks before the match, just to make up for the night just gone.
-
It was only a couple of hours later, but those hours made all of the difference. Harry had gotten up and was refreshed, even after those precious hours of sleep. He was thankful for the lack of dreams or nightmares, as he pulled himself from bed and walked to the centre of the tent. Hermione was sat by the fireplace, reading one of the fourth-year textbooks for the Potions class. If Harry knew Snape, which he liked to think he did, it was safe to say that Hermione had the right idea.

"Making sure you can keep up with Snape this year?" Harry asked, seeing Hermione nod in response. "Smart."

Hermione had folded the page on the book before she closed it. "Well, I figured it's better to be prepared than not. Besides, one of us has to help you and Ron get through that class."

"I think I'll be fine this year; you know. I'm not too worried about Snape, even if he will be the same old greasy git he always is." Harry shrugged, why bother getting nervous about it?

Hermione smiled. "You seem confident."

"Like I said, I had an epiphany this summer. I'll be ready for him." Harry assured her. "What's he gonna do, expel me?"

"He'd probably try, if you're like this in his class." Commented Hermione, but Harry shrugged again. "I'm actually quite proud of you, I know I didn't say it on the way in, but I am."

Harry sat next to her, leaning back. "Why?"

"Well, you're taking responsibility for yourself, for your education." Hermione smiled at him, the cute and genuine smile that Harry always loved to see. "I might be clever, but you have that in spades, as well as the talent. Everyone knows it, especially in Defence Against the Dark Arts. You're one of the best in the school, Harry. I'm just glad to see that you're applying yourself to what you think is going to help you succeed."

Harry smirked. "Is that your way of saying you'll be happy to sit next to me in Runes and Arithmancy then, yeah?"

"Of course not, you buffoon." Hermione laughed. "I'm happy you're doing what you want, instead of what everyone else wants for you. But if you're asking if you can sit next to me, well, I won't say no."

The two friends laughed together, eventually taking a walk outside around their tent. Everyone else had gone off for food or to find some kind of souvenir for the trip. Harry would have to do that after the match, or the day after if he could find the time. He knew he'd already marked it down in his map posters, but he needed something physical specific for the event. Eventually, Harry and Hermione found a small food stand, getting two hot dogs before Harry ended up buying a Bulgarian top hat plush. When Hermione had found an Irish-coloured scarf, she gave her best puppy-dog-eyes look at him before he eventually bought the scarf for her.

By the time the couple got back to the tent after their little walk, they'd already joined the Weasleys on the way to the stadium. Harry did not exactly have any stake in the game, since he wanted Italy to win after all. They weren't in the final, and that was the end of that scenario. As the group walked up to the stadium and finally got inside, Harry noted that Arthur was seeing everyone he would usually see at the Ministry of Magic. People like Bartemius Crouch as well as Ludovic 'Ludo' Bagman, the people responsible for the tournament as the Department Heads of International Magical Co-operation and Magical Games and Sports respectively.

Harry ignored them, they weren't interesting enough for him, nor did he care for them. They seemed fake, the politics that Sirius had warned him about seemed to come naturally to them and Harry avoided that like the plague. The group quickly continued up to their seats, with Bill and Charlie leading them up to what might have been the top of the stadium stands. Eventually, the group came to the upper half of the stadium which seemed to look more like scaffolding than anything Harry knew. He turned to look inside the stadium, with panels between each stand representing another wizarding advertisement each time they changed.

Soon, all of the advertisements seemed to merge into one poster of one player. Each advertising panel was glowing with a piece of the individual player. Eventually, it all came together to represent a young player, with a surly face and heavy dark eyebrows. It was moving, but all the player on the panel did was blink and scowl repeatedly.

"That's…" Ron muttered to himself. "That's Krum."

"Who?" Hermione had asked.

"Krum, Viktor Krum!" Ron gasped. "The Bulgarian Seeker! He's gonna be the next champion, he's like, well, he's Krum. There's nobody like Krum but Krum!"

Harry shook his head as Ron began to verbally worship the advertisement of Krum. Pushing him forward, onwards and upwards, they were almost at the top of the stadium before Harry had heard a voice he'd been free of since the last school year. He'd made sure that Fred, George and the rest had kept going, before Harry looked down. The pale, pointy face with white-blonde hair, as well as that bloody sneering voice. The more he looked at Draco Malfoy, the more that Harry could see the resemblances to his mother and father, as was to be expected.

"Well, well, well. I didn't think I'd be seeing you bunch of dregs around here." Draco spat. "How much did your family have to scrape and scrounge and sell to get seats here, Weasley? All the way at the top too? I suppose if it rains, you'll be the first to know."

The prim and proper accent cut down the sneer from the junior Malfoy. "Don't boast, Draco. There's no need with these people. It's unbecoming."

It was needless to say, but Harry didn't like either Draco or Lucius Malfoy. One was a foul little git who had a lot of daddy's cash, the other was somebody who had more than enough accusations pointed at him as being a Death Eater during the First Wizarding War. Harry had turned away, aiming to walk off before he felt the brush of air against his arm. He'd quickly moved his arm away from the guardrail of the walkway, avoiding the sharp snick of Lucius Malfoy's cane. Harry had quickly grabbed it at the top of the handle, inadvertently taking Malfoy's wand straight out of the cane. He pushed Ron and Hermione forward, remaining on the walkway.

Harry twirled the wand in his grasp, before tossing it back to the older Malfoy. "Be careful where you point that stick, Lord Malfoy."

Draco looked ready to let fly with a spell. "How dare you, Pott-"

"Careful, boy." Lucius snarled, silencing his son. "It might be prudent of you to take some advice from your betters."

"I could say the same to you, Lord Malfoy," Harry spoke up, gripping the guardrail intentionally to show the rings on his hand. "I'd be careful to not play with fire unless you want to get burnt. Enjoy the game, Draco."

Before Lucius or Draco could get another word or smarmy reply off, Harry had already continued making his way up to the top of the stadium. He eventually found Ron and Hermione, standing next to them in their seats as they overlooked the pitch and the rest of the stadium. Hermione seemed to link her arm with Harry for a small moment, a wordless thank you so that she didn't have to deal with Draco until the school year started again. Not that she had any trouble dealing with him, Harry couldn't forget the mean right hand she'd thrown, almost breaking his nose at the end of the third year.

"They're a bunch of gits, bloody Malfoys," Ron said to Harry. "Why'd you push us on?"

"No need to ruin the mood dealing with them. Besides," Harry placed his hands on the guardrail in front of their seats. "They needed to know that they weren't just messing with the Weasleys."

"Bloody hell! Where'd you get them?" Ron hollered, quickly grabbing Harry's hand to look at the two rings. "That's mental! Those rings, they look wicked, how much?"

"Nothing, Sirius gave them to me," Harry replied. "I went with him and Remus to Gringotts at the start of the summer holidays. Let's just say he's working through some stuff, but he made me his heir and helped me with some stuff for my own vault."

"Heir? To him?" Hermione had questioned.

"No, Hermione." Ron had replied, eyes wide with shock. "He means Heir to House Black. Sirius would be the Lord, but if anything happened, well, Harry would be nobility. Not that he isn't already, but still."

Ron had soon let his hand go, but Hermione couldn't help but look at the rings in silence as she continued to link her arm with Harry. A few pairs of omnioculars were shared between the family and friends, watching below as the mascots for both teams came out onto the pitch. For the Irish, the stereotypical and expected gathering of green-garbed leprechauns. As for the Bulgarians, a full cheerleading squad of some of the most attractive women Harry had ever seen in his life! Using the omnioculars, he looked and zoomed to get a better view, only to feel something odd when he looked at them. Hermione's hold tightened as Harry identified it as the slight urge to look longingly at them, and get closer if he could.

"They are…" Ron drooled, seemingly seduced by the urge Harry had identified.

"Veela." Charlie Weasley announced. "Seems the Bulgarians are playing every hand they can get. Can't blame them, not exactly bad to look at."

Before anyone else could say anything, Harry shook himself out of his stupor. He could hear somebody announcing the line-ups for both the Irish and Bulgarian teams. To Ron's relief, and nobody else's, Krum was not on the bench for the game. Eventually, a series of fireworks were let off in the air before another voice echoed throughout the stadium. Must be almost a hundred thousand people watching this here, Harry thought.

It was the British Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge. "Good evening! As the Minister for Magic, it gives me great pleasure, to welcome each and every one of you. Please enjoy, the four-hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup Final! Let the match, BEGIN!"

The game had come to an end, and at the death, Krum had made a game-changing move. The Irish team were just too much for the Bulgarians in the end, but the mercurial talent that Krum was didn't allow the Bulgarians to lose with shame. No, he'd made such a fool out of the Irish Seeker, Lynch, that Harry had to admit that maybe it was time for him to hang up his broom. Krum had caught the snitch without much issue, and the game had ended when he had landed with the golden snitch in his hand. The scoreboard appeared all over the stadium.

IRELAND: 170 POINTS
BULGARIA: 160 POINTS

After everything, it had been a slaughter inflicted upon the Bulgarians. They'd been giving penalties away like crazy, and eventually, the referee had even sent off their mascots. Charlie and Bill Weasley seemed more disappointed than Harry and Ron. However, Hermione, Ginny and the Twins were definitely happy with how the game had ended. She'd ended up hugging Harry, even if he did look like a fool with his plush top hat and red and black face paint.

As everyone returned back to their tents, Bill and Charlie had gone off with a couple of wizards and witches that they looked familiar with. In the meanwhile, the rest of the group had returned to their homely tent. Ron moped about, still down by the fact that the Bulgarians and his hero had lost the chance of eternal glory and a place in history. Harry couldn't find it in himself to be let down, but he was still disappointed anyway. Ginny, Hermione, Fred and George were the opposite.

They danced around Ron. Fred begun. "Viktor, I love you…"

"Viktor, I do…" George finished.

All of them sang together. "When we're apart my heart beats only for you!"

Ginny and Hermione danced to a small tune coming from the record player nearby, whilst Fred and George continued taunting their little brother and his friend. "Krum? Krum? Krum, Krum! Where's Krum? Krum?"

All across the campsites, the sounds of songs and cheering could be heard all throughout the night. Nobody felt like sleeping that night, not when the sounds outside occasionally made the lads inside go outside for a couple of minutes each to enjoy the victory of the Irish over the Bulgarians. The moves he saw, Harry could just visualise himself doing them if he decided to take his Quidditch a little more seriously than usual. The Wronski Feint, the slips and leaps, the dodges and weaves between players. The childish dream that was still allowed, where Harry could imagine himself in the colours of the Falmouth Falcons or the Montrose Magpies.

Ron would have had words with him if he told him his choice of team. The poor boy was stuck supporting the Chudley Cannons, even with their illustrious history, they hadn't been doing too well as of late. Before Harry could join in the teasing of his best mate, Mr. Weasley had rushed in, his face red and his breathing rough and quick as he gathered everyone together. Bill and Charlie had rushed inside, watching the entry of the tent.

"What's up?" Fred had asked. "The Irish got their pride on as per usual?"

"No, no. Worse." Arthur had quickly replied. "We need to leave now. Don't bother with anything, make sure you all get to the woods. Fred, George, look after Ginny. And stick together!"

"What?" Harry asked. "What's going on?"

"No time, Harry, just go!" Bill had ordered, pushing him out of the tent as everyone began to evacuate.

As soon as everyone was outside, Fred, George and Ginny had already disappeared from sight. Arthur, Bill and Charlie had rushed right into the fleeing crowd, forging a path forward, leaving Harry, Ron and Hermione. Audible over all the panicked screaming and yelling, was the awful chanting and jeers coming from further towards the centre of the camp. People were fleeing from their tents, away from the stadium, running to the treeline of the woods. Ron had grabbed Hermione by the wrist, running into the crowd as he followed exactly what his dad had told him.

Harry was stuck in place, however. There was a sight above all the tents that could only be seen to be believed. Visible by the light provided by the burning of the tents, four figures floating in the air, a statement of intent. The jeering and chanting grew louder, and then the burst of bright green light. The figures were soon revealed to be a family of wizards and witches, two of which were small enough to be kids. They slowly began to contort and struggle, moving like marionettes with cut strings.

The crowd began to thin out, and soon Harry could see the source of the jeering. A crowd of cloaked figures, garbed in black with no faces. Instead, masks of bone coated in shining silver marched towards Harry before he had gotten over the shock. Death Eaters, he thought. Harry made to run, dodging a series of spells that turned the former Weasley tent into a blazing inferno. He ran, he ran as fast as his feet could carry him into the maze of tents.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit…." Harry muttered to himself. "Get to the woods, I have to get to the woods."

Taking his wand from his wrist holster, Harry carved a way through the campsite as he heard the sounds of pained screaming from above. Death Eaters hated muggles, they hated the muggle-born wizards and witches just as much. If he had to place a bet, Harry would happily wager they were all blood supremacists as well. Sneaking through the site, Harry eventually cut through the left side of the gathered tents and straight to the dense treeline. The chanting, the jeering, the screams, they all seemed to fall away from Harry. He found himself sitting behind an old oak tree, balling up in the dirt as the blaze grew larger and larger.

Harry was ready to stay there for the night. The Death Eaters were too many in number for him to take on by himself, even if he was ready to fight. He wanted to fight them, but was it worth losing his life at that moment? No, better to run and live another day than run into the fray and die hopelessly. He clutched his wand as tight as he could, closing his eyes as he tried to block out everything that he had seen and heard.

Then he heard it again, the scream. Not one from the unfortunate victims stuck in the air, but from someone new. It was somewhere close by too, and Harry soon poked his head out of his safety. The tents were burning brighter than before, but in the shadow of those flames, two figures could be seen. A young girl, and a cloaked man in close pursuit with a wand and small axe in his hands. The girl was screaming loudly, but nobody else was in the area of the brush that Harry was.

"Shit…" Harry muttered. "Right, come on, Potter. You've trained for this. You can do this."

Taking his wand out, Harry leapt out from behind the tree and out of the forest. The man had cast a spell, hitting the girl right in the back as she fell lifelessly to the floor. There was no green light, but the way that the man stalked towards the immobilised girl was enough to push Harry into action.

"Oi!" Harry yelled out. "Fulmenis!"

As soon as he'd called out the spell and pointed at the man in black, the bright sparks shot out of his wand. A full stream of pure lightning flowed towards the man, who just about managed to cast a Protego shield to block the overcharged lightning spell. Harry soon cut off the lightning stream, throwing out three more stupefy spells which managed to be deflected just in time by the predatory Death Eater.

"Avada…"

Before the man could finish off that terrifying spell, Harry waved his wand towards a tent close by, the fabric wrapping itself around the lone Death Eater before Harry finished him off. "Flamma Nigrum!"

As the Death Eater struggled to free himself of the constricting tent, the ball of black flame slammed into the man. The tent's fabric caught fire, and the man tried to fight his way out before the flame slowly began to claim him too. With his opponent dealt with, Harry rushed to the girl who was still trapped, petrified in the grass. Harry made sure she was alive, before carrying her into the woods and releasing her from her petrification. As the girl began to catch her breath and find her equilibrium, Harry made sure to look over the site once more.

Almost all of the site was burning, the largest fire that Harry had ever seen. The burning heat was the very opposite of the cold that the Dementors of Azkaban brought whenever they turned up. Before he turned around, he felt a hand touch his shoulder, Harry quickly swivelling around with his wand still in his hand.

"Wait, wait!" the girl shouted. "You, you saved me. I didn't think anyone could hear me. Thank you, Potter."

Harry stowed his wand away. "You're Daphne, right?"

"Daphne Greengrass, yes." The girl took a few deep breaths, sitting behind the tree Harry previously was. "I'm in your debt, Potter. Death Eaters? It can't be, it can't be them."

Harry sighed. "Well, you're safe now, whoever they were. Are you okay?"

"Are you okay, Potter?"

The question was halfway in and out of his mind, the real issue was still present in his mind. The smell of burning flesh was on the air, melting and sloughing off the bone as the black flame spell Harry had learnt burnt itself out. Whether anything was left of the corpse of the Death Eater, Harry didn't know, and he definitely didn't want to go over to check. He took more deep breaths, sitting down in the grass and dirt as Daphne soon crawled over to him.

"You're in Slytherin, right? Daphne Greengrass, you've got a sister?" Harry asked, and Daphne had nodded without another word. "I'm sorry, I'm trying to think about, well, other things than the obvious."

"It's okay, Potter. I understand." Daphne replied. "Just take some time, deep breaths, yeah? You saved me; you did what you had to do. Thank you."

Before Harry could respond, there was a muffled shout from inside the camp. Not a gathering of screams but a singular voice that seemed to be amplified somehow, probably with magic.

"MORSMORDRE!"

Daphne turned as Harry went to lie down on the grass, still taking in deep breaths so he didn't sink into despair. A bright spell shot into the air, before a burst of green light expanded into the dark night sky. Harry had soon picked himself up, joining Daphne at the edge of the treeline when he saw what the light had turned into. Like the aurora-borealis, the light seemed to sift and bend around but the spell was conjuring something specific. A bright green skull, it's mouth wide open as a snake slithered from the maw of the skull. Voldemort's mark, the Dark Mark, a signifier of the Death Eaters' actions.

"No, no, no." Daphne gasped. "Surely not, it can't be them. They were all gone!"

Harry took another moment. "I guess not. Come on, we need to find some of the others. If not, we need somewhere to sleep."

Daphne was reluctant at first, but soon, with enough prodding, she took Harry's hand. Lifting her up, Harry and Daphne made their way back into the forests. The light of the Dark Mark shadowed them until they found a clearing just away from the main treeline. Harry took off his jacket, folding it down so Daphne could use it as a pillow as she tried to sleep. As Daphne tried to sleep, Harry remained awake. He couldn't sleep, and even in his restless dreams, he'd suffer through seeing that manor on the hill once again.