Before going to bed, they all had one last cup of cocoa together and were soon talking about the match.

Mr. Weasley got drawn into a disagreement about cobbing with Charlie, and it was only when Ginny fell asleep right at the tiny table and spilled hot chocolate all over the floor that Mr. Weasley called a halt to the verbal replays and insisted that everyone go to bed. Hermione and Ginny went into the next tent, and Dudley and the rest of the Weasleys changed into pajamas and clambered into their bunks. From the other side of the campsite they could still hear much singing and the odd echoing bang.

"Oh I am glad I'm not on duty," muttered Mr. Weasley sleepily. "I wouldn't fancy having to go and tell the Irish they've got to stop celebrating."

Dudley fell asleep immediately and had a dream about playing as beater for England. Suddenly, Mr. Weasley was shouting. "Get up! Ron, Dean, Dudley - come on now, get up, this is urgent!"

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

"'S' matter?" he said.

Dimly, he could tell that something was wrong. The noises in the campsite had changed. The singing had stopped. He could hear screams, and the sound of people running. He slipped down from the bunk and reached for his clothes, but Mr. Weasley, who had pulled on his jeans over his own pajamas, said, "No time, Dudley - just grab a jacket and get outside - quickly!"

Dudley did as he was told and hurried out of the tent, Ron at his heels.

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. Dudley squinted at them...They didn't seem to have faces...Then he realized that their 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 Dudley 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 were suddenly illuminated as they passed over a burning tent and Dudley recognized one of them: Mr. Roberts, the campsite manager. The other three looked as though they might be his wife and children. One of the marchers below flipped Mrs. Roberts upside down with his wand; her nightdress fell down to reveal voluminous drawers and she struggled to cover herself up as the crowd below her screeched and hooted with glee.

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

Hermione, Luna and Ginny came hurrying toward them, pulling coats over their nightdresses, with Mr. Weasley right behind them. At the same moment, Bill, Charlie, and Percy emerged from the boys' tent, fully dressed, with their sleeves rolled up and their wands out.

"We're going to help the Ministry!" Mr. Weasley shouted over all the noise, rolling up his own sleeves. "You lot - get into the woods, and stick together. I'll come and fetch you when we've sorted this out!"

Bill, Charlie, and Percy were already sprinting away toward the oncoming marchers; Mr. Weasley tore after them. Ministry wizards were dashing from every direction toward the source of the trouble. The crowd beneath the Roberts family was coming ever closer.

"C'mon," said Fred, grabbing Ginny's hand and starting to pull her toward the wood. George grabbed Luna and did likewise.

"Come on, Dud," Ron said.

"Wait, shouldn't we go and help?" Dudley said, looking back at the mob of masked people.

"Are you mad?" Ron goggled. "You heard dad, the Ministry will handle it."

"Yeah, but we're pretty good at spells—we captured Black, remember?" Dudley said. He rather fancied charging into the fray and battling a few dark wizards. He imaged the headlines tomorrow. "Dudley Dursley Saves Muggle Family," "Dudley Dursley Captures World Cup Rioter"

"Come on, Dud, we need to look after the girls."

"If anything it's you who need looking after, Ron!" Hermione said furiously.

"Stop arguing and come on," Dean said.

Behind them, the Ministry wizards were trying to force their way to the crowd to reach the hooded wizards in the center. They were struggling. It seemed they didn't want to risk any spell that might make the Roberts family fall.

Dudley sighed. "Let's go then" he said, disappointed. It seemed like a missed opportunity to get in the papers again. Plus, he felt confident that he, Ron, Hermione and Dean could help—they had practiced dueling a lot after all.

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. Dudley lowered his shoulder to use his size and strength to force their way through the crowd. Then he heard Ron yell with pain.

"What happened?" said Hermione anxiously, stopping so abruptly that Dudley walked into her. "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.

"Professor Lockhart! What are you doing here?" Ron asked, clambering to his feet.

Dudley looked over to where Ron was looking. Sure enough, it was Lockhart. He was wearing a silk gold dressing gown over red and gold pajamas. He was peering through a hole in a bush and jumped when he heard his name.

"Who's … oh, it's just you four," he said, relaxing.

"Why are you here?" Ron asked. "I thought the Ministry wizards were going to help."

"Ah … well, I'm not strictly Ministry," Lockhart said. "So I thought best to follow instructions and stay out of the way."

"Shouldn't you still go to help? The Ministry could use you," Ron said. "Rather than hiding."

Lockhart straightened up. "Hiding? I? Certainly not. I …" he glanced nervously around and lowered his voice.

"I saw one run into the trees here," he whispered.

"One of what?" Deana sked, frowning.

"One of them," Lockhart said, pointing back towards the ongoing riot. "A masked wizard. He came darting into the trees—planning some new mischief, no doubt. Needless to say, I followed him to apprehend him. Lost sight of the crafty sod, though."

They all exchanged glances. "Which way did he go, Professor?" Hermione asked, taking her wand out at once.

"Lost sight of him," Lockhart said, smoothing down his pajamas. "Not to fear, I'll soon track him down—did I tell you I wrote large portions of the Auror's tracking and surveillance test? A dab hand at it."

Ron and Dean had pulled their wands out too. Dudley felt for his own and swore.

Lockhart jumped. "What's …"

"I can't find my wand," Dudley said, patting his coat and pajamas all over.

"Maybe you dropped it?" Hermione aimed the light of her wand on the ground. There was no sign of it.

"It must be back at the tent," Dean said. "Come on, we should find the others."

"Yeah, if one of them is in the woods …" Dudley said, glancing through the trees. There was a group of girls nearby talking in French, a wizard hurrying past with a small child in his arms and a pair of elderly wizards hobbling quickly along together—nobody wearing robes or masks, though.

They walked on, there was the sound of footsteps behind—it was Lockhart.

"I'll escort you to your friends," he announced. "It's not safe to be out in the woods—not with a Death Eater on the loose!"

"They're Death Eaters!" Dudley gasped. He knew about Voldemort's followers, but hadn't known the group of masked people were them.

"Yes—the ones who avoided Azkaban," Lockhart said. "Shall we?"

They walked into the woods. They all had their wands out (except Dudley). Lockhart stayed close behind the group, glancing around rapidly as if expecting to be attacked at any moment.

"I don't believe it!" Hermione said, angrily. "Where have they gone to? They can't have gone this far."

A rustling noise nearby made all five 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 about!" she squeaked distractedly as she leaned forward and labored to keep running. "People high - high in the air! Winky is getting out of the way!"

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

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

"Bet she didn't ask permission to hide," said Dudley.

"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?"

"Hey, I pay Dobby!" Dudley said, defensively.

They followed the dark path deeper into the wood, still keeping an eye out for Fred, George, Luna 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 unperturbed 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."

Dudley turned to say something to Ron, but Ron's face had gone oddly slack, and next second Ron was yelling, "Did I tell you I've invented a broomstick that'll reach Jupiter?"

"Honestly!" said Hermione, and she and Dean 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.

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

The words were hardly out of his mouth, when Ludo Bagman emerged from behind a tree right ahead of them.

Lockhart jumped and gave a started yell, aiming his wand directly at Bagman.

Even by the feeble light of the two wands, Dudley 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 in here, all alone?"

They looked at one another, surprised.

"Well - there's a sort of riot going on," said Ron.

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. Like the real Krum, the model was slightly duck-footed and round-shouldered, much less impressive on his splayed feet than on his broomstick. Lockhart had sat down, his back to a tree. He mopped his brow with a red, silk handkerchief. Dean was glancing around for anyone coming. Dudley sat down next to Lockhart.

"Shouldn't you be getting back to tracking that Death Eater?" he said. "We'll be safe here."

"Death Eater?" Lockhart looked puzzled. "Oh, him! No, I daresay he is long gone! No chance of tracking him now. Besides, it is best I stick with you—keep an eye on you until your family arrives. Safety in numbers, you know! And I know Arthur would never forgive me if I left you all alone in the woods!"

"Mad, 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. Dudley, Dean 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.

"What's that?" Lockhart said, leaping to his feet. He spun around, his hand shaking slightly as he pointed it through the trees. "State your business—we're all armed!" he called, a slight crack in his voice.

"Hello?" called Dudley.

There was silence. Dudley 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, not a panicked shout, but what sounded like a spell.

"MORSMORDRE!"

And something vast, green, and glittering erupted from the patch of darkness Dudley's eyes had been struggling to penetrate; it flew up over the treetops and into the sky.

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

For a split second, Dudley thought it was another leprechaun formation. Then he realized that 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 a haze of greenish smoke, etched against the black sky like a new constellation.

Suddenly, the wood all around them erupted with screams.