Chapter Thirty

The Quidditch World Cup

Harry was still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as they reached the crest of the hill Mr Weasley was guiding them towards. A yawn escaped him, and he was sorely regretting his decision to reach the stadium in the wee hours of the morning with his friends instead of taking up Sirius's offer to apparate there later. If he did, it would be him and not Alex getting some shut-eye right now.

A familiar figure approached, and Harry was definitely sure that he and Alex should have switched places. Cedric Diggory, accompanied by a middle-aged man, were silhouetted against the starry sky on the other side of the hilltop.

"Amos!" said Mr Weasley, smiling. He shook hands with a ruddy-faced wizard, who was holding a mouldy-looking boot in his other hand.

"This is Amos Diggory, everyone," said Mr Weasley. "He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And I think you know his son Cedric?"

"We do," replied Ginny, who was smiling slyly. Harry recognised that expression – it was one she wore whenever she was about to hex someone or tease them. He hadn't been on the receiving end of that look yet, and for that he was glad.

Ginny was probably referring to Cedric's close friendship with Alex. He was certainly looking for her now, his eyes skirting over the crowd for the familiar head of straight, dark hair. Disappointment pulled at his features when he recognised her absence, but he greeted them all cordially enough. They responded with varying levels of enthusiasm, still weighed down with sleepiness.

"Hello, hello – Merlin's beard!" gasped Mr Diggory. "Is that Harry Potter?"

"Um, yes," Harry said, shirking beneath everyone's gazes.

"Ced's spoken about you, of course," laughed Mr Diggory. "Says you give him a run for his money every time you butt heads on the quidditch pitch."

"I'm part of a great team," he demurred, directing some of the attention to the twins.

It was far too early for this.

Fortunately, Mr Weasley made a show of checking the time and urged them to get a move on.

They all stood around the boot, touching it with no more than a finger. Cedric positioned himself between his father and Harry. "I'm sorry about all that," he said quietly.

Harry smiled slightly. He could see why Alex liked this guy. "S'alright. Don't let Alex know, though; she'll have a right laugh at both our expenses."

Cedric chuckled. "Too true. She told me she was coming to the game…?"

"Oh, yeah, she'll be arriving later."

"With her parents?"

Before Harry could answer, Mr Weasley began to count down the seconds until the portkey activated.

Harry felt a fierce tug from within his torso. His feet left the ground; he could feel Ron and Cedric on either side of him, their shoulders banging into his. They were all speeding forward in a howl of wind and swirling colour and then—

"Wow," murmured Alex, her eyes on the sea of tents in front of them. "And people don't suspect a thing?"

"You know muggles," said Sirius, as he began to wade through the cluttered lot, "they like to mind their own business and make up some excuse or the other to appease their curiosity." That sounded a lot like the Hogwarts rumour mill, to be honest.

For a society built on secrecy, wand-wavers were rather ostentatious people. She and Sirius passed no fewer than five tents with their own miniature gardens laid out in front of them, and there were others that were guarded by exotic pets such as peacocks. It was pretty easy to spot with tents belonged to which sorts of families. She could practically smell the old money on some of them.

"It's a dick-measuring contest," she noted.

Sirius snorted. "That's purebloods for you."

Finding the Weasleys' tent would have been a lot easier if they weren't stopped every few metres. Quite a few people were acquainted with Sirius, and even if they weren't, that didn't prevent them from shaking his hand and sharing their sympathies with him. Their curious gazes often wandered to her, but they drifted away quickly enough when they noticed the irate glare she was wearing.

Her temper was impeded slightly as she spotted familiar faces throughout the trek. She waved to Luna, who was with her father, as they lounged in front of their silver and purple tent. She thought she could see Duncan and Grant in the distance, but she couldn't be too sure. Finally, they made their way to their tent, and Alex breathed a sigh of relief at having avoided any unsavoury types.

Sirius glanced at the sign nailed into the ground that read 'Weezly'. "Think this is it?" he asked wryly.

She shrugged. "Only one way to find out."

They peered through the deceptively small tent. While it looked like it could hold no more than two people, the interior of the tent was a whole other story. Inside, it was an old-fashioned, three-room flat, complete with a bathroom and kitchen. Mismatched chairs were situated in the living area, decorated with crocheted covers. That, coupled with the strong smell of cats, gave Alex the feeling that she was entering the home of an elderly woman.

"Slow-pokes!" called Ron from the kitchen.

"We've already eaten," Harry admitted sheepishly. "There are some sandwiches saved, though."

True to his word, there was a small mountain of sandwiches on the table. Alex took one—roast beef—and nibbled at it. Normally her appetitive was voracious at this time of day, but there was something in the air that sent the hairs on the back of her neck straight up.

She turned to Sirius, who was in the midst of his second sandwich. "Do you have your pocket sneakoscope?" she asked him.

He shook his head. "Gave it to Remus. Hope you don't mind, but it'd never shut up once I was home."

What? "Where on earth are you living now?"

"It's a secret," he claimed with a wink.

Alex huffed, unimpressed with the cryptic nature of his response.

Although the tent was much larger than any normal tent ought to be, within a few minutes Alex was beginning to feel claustrophobic. She went outside for some fresh and decided a walk would do her some good.

More than a few people were eager to stop and have a chat with her, having recognised her as the heir to the Fortescue business. There were a lot of suggestions being thrown her way, some of which were pretty good. Alex filed them away in her head even as she was occasionally distracted by whatever pets her customers had brought with them to the field.

To her glee, someone had a snake tied to a post in front of their tent. Alex smiled down at it.

"Wow," said a familiar voice. "You really do act weird when you're around animals."

Alex rolled her eyes. "Of course this is your tent," she drawled, her eyes darting pointedly between the snake, the silver-and-green tent, and Agatha's face.

"You might want to leave," Agatha advised her not unkindly. "You don't really get along with the sort of people in this area."

Alex acknowledged her warning with a salute of her fingers. Without so much as a goodbye, she turned around and headed in another direction.

It seemed she hadn't gone far enough, however.

"What in Merlin's name are you wearing?" demanded Draco as they crossed paths.

Alex's face twisted into an odd expression as she came face-to-face with the last person she wanted to run into. Normally she wasn't so wary of trading insults with Draco, but ever since their meeting in the summer, the power dynamics had shifted between them notably.

Of all the students at Hogwarts, Draco was the only one who had a parent on the Ministry's school board. Moreover, the influence Lucius Malfoy lorded over the big-shots in their government was no joke; he was more of a Minister than Fudge ever would be. It explained Draco's tendency to act like a giant prat, at any rate.

It also gave meaning to how much people kissed his arse, unbearable though he was. Alex was no groveler, but even she had her price. Cedric's life was well worth the deal she had struck up with the blonde devil back in June.

It was even worth the Hogsmeade date she owed Richard Parkinson in exchange for Draco's address. Alex wrote the Malfoy scion a vague letter requesting a meeting with him sometime at her dad's shop. As per her prompt, Draco had ducked into the parlour moments before they were set to close. For privacy's sake, Alex had flipped the sign and charmed the windows so no one could peer inside.

"Make it quick, Fortescue," Draco had snapped as he lowered the hood of his dark grey robes. Its thickness spoke of its high quality, as did the sleek dragonhide boots on his impatiently tapping feet.

Alex ignored his demanding behaviour. "The Triwizard Tournament is coming to Hogwarts, but students under seventeen will be barred from entering," she informed him, watching as surprise flickered over his face at the second half of her statement.

"And how did you come by such information?" he asked, derision dripping from his voice, no doubt chagrined at her for knowing more than he did.

She managed to quash an amused smirk. "I have my sources," she replied with half a shrug. It was actually her dad who had spilled the beans, having been informed by one his gossipy customers. It only took her mum less than a day to confirm the rumour.

"You called me down here just to tell me this?" Draco asked sceptically. He was probing for information, and none too subtly either.

"I came to ask for a favour," she said, and before his ego could inflate dramatically, she hastened to add, "and offer one in return."

"And that is…?"

Alex crossed her arms, hyper-aware of how her wand and its holster on her right arm were pressing into her other forearm.

"I want you to convince your father to get rid of the age restriction on the tournament."

Whatever Draco had been expecting from her, that wasn't it. His entire face contorted with confusion, apparently unable to control his emotions even less than she could. "How am I supposed to do that?" he asked incredulously.

"Shouldn't be too hard. After all, you'd want to enter the tournament too, wouldn't you? To be champion of Hogwarts, of our House, to bring pride and glory to your name?" A hint of longing leaked into her voice as she listed the compelling reasons for entering. Maybe she would've been keen to win the tournament herself if she was unaware of the dangers it withheld.

Draco had no such qualms, though, if the dreamy look in his eyes was anything to go by. He shook his head slightly to clear himself of such delusions. "And what do I get out of this exchange?" he asked, eyeing her shrewdly.

Clearly the offer of participating in the renowned Triwizard Tournament wasn't tempting enough. Shame, that, because her plans would go so much more smoothly if only Draco represented their school in the deadliest tournament in all of magical Britain.

Alex flashed back to the last conversation she had with Draco, when she humiliated him along with his sidekicks Crabbe and Goyle — in front of Harry and his friends, no less.

With that in mind, she said, "I'll help you one-up Harry Potter."

Now, in real time, Alex glanced at her outfit: an off-the-shoulder top and denim shorts. "Summer clothes," she surmised in reply to Draco's rhetorical questions. Even with the wards surrounding the area, they were still technically in muggle territory, which meant blending in was the key. There were others also dressed in muggle clothing, albeit slightly mismatched and/or outdated.

Draco turned his head away, apparently unable to stomach her outfit. "Mugglewear is so vile," she heard him mutter.

"It's comfortable," said Alex, shrugging. Robes were convenient sometimes, sure, but they weren't great for when you wanted to feel warmth of the sun or a cool breeze against your skin.

Alex shivered as she felt a spike of hostility aimed right at her. It was a sensation she was unfortunately accustomed to thanks to her time at school.

She scanned her surroundings to locate the source, but there were too many people up and about. Alex rested her hand against her neck as she forced herself to calm down.

"You're not going to be sick, are you?" said Draco. "If you are, do it elsewhere – preferably by your tent." Although he sounded as snobby and condescending as ever, Draco looked a little—dare she say it—apprehensive. There was definitely a nervous twitch about him as he glanced around them.

Ah. He probably didn't want to be seen with her.

"Better yet," continued Draco, "you should leave entirely."

"Trust me," she sighed, already beginning to walk away, "I would if I could."

"I have to say," murmured Hermione as they made their way to the stadium, "this is quite a beautiful path."

Alex nodded in agreement. Although the sun was still up, its rays were mostly blocked out by the tall trees around them. To make things easier for the spectators, red and green lanterns illuminated the trail to the stadium. Not exactly the colours Alex would've opted for, but their soft glow was pretty enough to overlook their garish choice.

Judging by the shouts and laughter, theirs wasn't the only path in the woods. It might've even been the most arduous, as it took them twenty minutes to walk through. At last they found themselves at the edge of the tree-line and in the shadow of an enormous stadium.

"Seats a hundred thousand," said Mr Weasley, spotting the awestruck looks on their faces. "Ministry task force of five hundred have been working on it all year. Muggle Repelling Charms on every inch of it. Every time they got near here all year, they've suddenly remembered urgent appointments. Bless them," he added fondly. His tone was totally devoid of any patronisation; no, Mr Weasley was being completely sincere in admiration of non-magical folk.

"Your dad's kind of adorable," she whispered to Ginny as they made their way to the nearest entrance.

Her freckled face scrunched up. "Ew. Please don't add him to your list."

"List?" Then she recalled the previous night's conversation. "Ugh! As if!"

"Well, how am I supposed to know?" Ginny asked incredulously, but her wide mouth was twitching upwards into a grin. "Seriously, you have more crushes than my entire dorm combined."

Alex stuck her tongue out in reply. Surely Ginny was exaggerating.

Yeah. Of course she was.

The Ministry witch inspected their tickets before gesturing towards the topmost seats – the Top Box, she called it.

More stairs, Alex realised with a sigh.

At least they were fancy. Carpeted in a royal shade of purple, the staircase took at least five minutes of non-stop ascension before they reached a small box situated exactly halfway between the golden goal posts.

"Bit over-the-top," she muttered as she got a good view of the gold theme.

"Was that a pun?" Sirius asked excitedly.

"No."

They eagerly filed into the same row of purple-and-gilt seats. As everyone got settled, a thought struck Alex.

She leaned forward so she could speak over Harry, who was sitting between herself and Sirius. "Remus isn't here?" she yelled over the din.

Sirius pried his eyes from the field to answer her. "He's at the ministry – says tonight's the best night to get work done."

"He's working at the ministry now?" Bit of a step-down, in her opinion.

Sirius shook his head. "He's fighting for werewolf rights. I'm not surprised you haven't heard about it; the ministry is doing its best to silence any reports of the campaign."

Alex rolled her eyes. Typical. Worse, the media was so invested in tracking the Azkaban Reformation Act that they were using it as a distraction from other issues. Progress was slow, but at least the Wizengamot hadn't killed the bill yet.

Speak of the devil.

"Minister!" yelped Percy in greeting. He had been hopping up and down ever since they first sat down, basically frothing at the mouth in his rush to receive every remotely important figure approaching the Top Box.

So this was the ruling leader of their world. She had to say, he wasn't very impressive. Percy—and Hermione—seemed to think otherwise, judging by the stars in their eyes.

Percy's awe quickly darkened to envy when Fudge bypassed them all to shake the Boy-Who-Lived's hand. Alex had to lean back dramatically so he could get to him.

"Harry, m'boy!" Fudge said, smiling. "You're looking well."

"You too, sir," stammered Harry as the pasty man finally let go.

Then Fudge noticed Sirius. His face went slack, and Alex wondered how on earth this man even managed to get his foot in the door of politics in the first place. His only saving grace was his wordless, hasty retreat to his seat in front of them.

Alex snorted at the spectacle. This was better than the actual game.

Of course, that was when the Malfoys arrived.

It was just Draco and his parents, and although Alex had caught a glimpse of Lucius Malfoy before during the conclusion of the basilisk ordeal, this was her first time seeing Narcissa. She carried herself with a poise that clashed with her inelegant, sneering family. Sure she had her nose held high, but at least she wasn't smouldering with disdain like Lucius was.

"Cornelius," said Lucius, extending his hand to the Minister. Cornelius? "How are you? I don't think you've met my wife, Narcissa? Or our son, Draco?"

Instead of acting chafed by the personal address, Fudge smiled and bowed to Narcissa.

Alex brought a hand to her mouth in attempt to hide the mix of disgust and horror threatening to show on her face. Was that normal? Was it custom for the leader of magical Britain to actually lower their heads for others? Lucius Malfoy wasn't even that important a figure; last she heard he was still the chairman of the school board.

Lucius's gaze swept over them before landing on Mr Weasley. "Goodness, Arthur," he said softly, eyes hooded. "What did you have to sell to get these seats? Surely your house wouldn't have fetched this much?"

Yikes. As much as she despised Lucius Malfoy, he sure knew how to deliver a burn.

Alex was keen to hear how Mr Weasley would retaliate, but Fudge—who had been busy trying to communicate with the Bulgarian minister—said, "Lucius here has just given a very generous contribution to Mungo's, did you know? He's here as my guest."

"That's so funny," Alex said conversationally with a flick of her hair. She smiled as Lucius stopped glaring balefully at the sole muggleborn of their group. "I've just sent off my yearly donation too."

It wasn't much, to be sure. While her basilisk money wasn't going to run out any time soon, it wasn't growing exponentially either. Still, a few well-placed donations here and there didn't hurt.

"Hilarious," Draco said in the ensuing silence. His face was expressionless, but his tone — it puzzled her in its ambiguity.

But it was his mother's reaction that interested Alex the most. Her eyes had sharpened, and she was now measuring Alex with tempered intensity.

Afterwards, when the Malfoys finally got to their seats, Harry leaned close to her and muttered, "You know you hit my face with your hair, right?"

"Did I?" she asked lightly, smirking.

He rolled his eyes at her transparency. "Really, though," he continued, sobering up slightly, "Draco's mum is Sirius's cousin. They barely even glanced at each other."

At that, Alex peered past Harry. Sirius's face was carefully neutral.

"I guess it'd be like running into Dudley after a decade," mused Harry, shrugging.

"Except Dudley isn't as pretty," she murmured, leaning into her seat.

Harry shook his head in quiet amazement. "You seriously have a thing for blondes."

"I do not!"

Her protests were soon debunked by the presence of the veela. They were, distastefully put, the mascots chosen by the Bulgarian team. After they traipsed off the field, allowing Alex to calm down, she understood the sentiment behind their choice: Ron had torn his shamrock hat to shreds, so enthused was he for the Bulgarian team beneath the veelas' charms.

Sirius and Mr Weasley shared a hearty chuckle at the teens' reactions, while Hermione huffed and shook her head.

"I didn't do anything weird, did I?" she asked upon hearing how Harry confess to wanting to jump out of his seat to impress the veela.

Ginny shrugged. "I was a little out of it myself," she confessed.

How embarrassing. Alex pressed a hand against of her warm cheeks. And right in front of the Malfoys, too.

If only she could've seen—and captured—Draco's reaction. Blackmail for days.

Ireland's display, in contrast, was bogus.

"Putting the sham in shamrock," she announced as the Leprechaun gold gently rained down on them.

Sirius grinned. "Now that was definitely a pun."

As the game began, Alex wasn't sure about the decision to employ veelas after all. They had taken to distracting the referee, and when threatened to be sent off for it, the Bulgarian players actually tried to argue back. Things got heated, and Bulgaria ended up with another penalty in Ireland's favour. That was enough to tip the game to Ireland despite Krum's capture of the snitch.

"Amazing match!" praised Mr Weasley as he clapped enthusiastically. "They'll be talking about this game for years."

Their group certainly spent all night discussing it, at any rate. Alex stayed up with them for half an hour before concluding she didn't care enough to keep up with their dissection of the game. She turned into bed early, once again bunking with Hermione and Ginny.

A scream woke her up. No, scratch that — it was a cacophony of shrieks and cries and, judging by the sound of things, they weren't noises of celebration.

She could hear Mr Weasley urgently waking his youngest before moving onto Hermione. Alex was already up and pulling her bathrobe on by the time he turned to her bed. Wand in hand, she rushed to the entrance of their tent, where Harry and Ron were already peering out of.

A crowd of witches and wizards, steadily growing in number, were marching through the campsite. They blew away tents as they passed, lighting up several on fire, and cursing anyone they came across. What made her blood boil, though, was the sight of three figures floating above them, screaming in terror as they were twirled around mid-air while other jeered and sneered below.

Their fear overrode hers. Before anyone could stop her, she dashed out of the tent. The adrenaline rushing through her blocked out their shouts of protest. All reason left her mind as she saw red.

She didn't bother applying the Disillusionment Charm. There was no way she could maintain it, and besides, she might end up being hit by a stray spell anyway. The darkness of the night would have to cloak her.

The aurors surrounding the terrorists were struggling to break their ranks without hurting the muggle hostages being toyed with above. Alex ducked behind a semi-collapsed test as she flicked through her mental notes for anything that could help.

She was so caught up in trying to work out a viable solution that she didn't even register the presence behind her. Someone slapped their hand on her arm; she almost screamed bloody murder before she recognised the person connected to the hand.

"Alexandra!" hissed her mum, slapping her wand-arm down. "What do you think you're doing here? Get into the woods with the other children!"

"Mum," Alex breathed. She could barely hear her own voice over the drumming of her heartbeat.

A fiercely determined expression was set into her mum's weathered features. Her robes were dishevelled but otherwise whole. "Leave," she said. "Leave it to the qualified adults."

Alex nodded as she swallowed back her fear. "Be safe," she murmured as she ran past her mum.

It took great effort, but she managed to cast a Shield Charm strong and large enough to cover her entire form as she dashed into the woods. It fractured no less than four times as the occasional curse crashed into her; the fifth one hit her just as she broke into the tree-line.

Alex fell to the ground with a grunt. Disoriented but otherwise fine, she got up. A simple lumos helped her find her way through the woods as she carefully avoided tripping over any tree roots. Her guard remained up, her ears alert, so when she heard sniffling Alex immediately switched tracks and followed the noise.

A pair of girls were knelt by a particularly thick tree. They looked to be around thirteen-years-old, and tear tracks ran down their dirt-smudged faces.

"Are you all right?" Alex asked, lowering her wand to appear non-threatening.

The girls were so shaken that they barely even raised their own wands in response. The Asian one fired off something in a foreign language that might've been French, and then again in what Alex was sure was Vietnamese.

"She's English," her dark-skinned friend muttered. The lilt in her voice indicated she was also French.

"Do you know any healing spells?" asked the first girl. She nodded to her companion, who was nursing her ankle.

"I know a few," Alex admitted, kneeling down to help. She cancelled out her lumosand conjured a jar of light for illumination in its stead. "May I?" she asked softly.

The other girl bit her lip before nodding. She lifted her hand away from her foot, and Alex instantly recognised the injury as a sprain.

Thank god. "I sprained my foot once," she said casually as she worked out which of the healing spells best suited this particularly case. "This kid in my class kept calling me and my friend dirty and dark so I ran after him to make him eat dirt. His friend tripped me, though."

Alex brought her wand down in a diagonal line above the ankle. "Episkey!"

The wounded girl gasped, and for a horrible moment, Alex thought she had made things worse. "It's healed!" she said, amazed. She peered up at Alex with grateful eyes. "Thank you so much."

Alex smiled. "You're welcome. Now it's your turn," she informed the first girl.

"You noticed?" she wondered, eyebrows raised. Slowly she unfolded her arms, revealing the bloodied bit of her robes just beneath her ribs.

Her friend hissed. "Yvonne! Why didn't you say anything?"

Yvonne began to lift her shoulders into a careless shrug before wincing as pain undoubtedly sliced into her.

Alex hurried over before the dolt could stretch her gash open any wider. Carefully, she used the Cutting Charm on Yvonne's robes so she could access the wound. It was a clean cut, if indirect; a wayward spell cast by an idiot. Alex used the same spell as before and, once healed, she shed her bathrobe and gave it to Yvonne.

"I'm afraid I'm shite at clothing spells," she admitted, shoving the robe into the other girl's hands.

"I- thanks," she said lamely.

Alex opened her mouth to bid them goodbye when there was an explosion of green in the sky. The image of a colossal skull was projected into the sky in a haze of greenish smoke. Alex watched, eyes wide with horror, as the skull opened unhinged its jaw and a serpent slithered out like a gruesome tongue.

Yvonne cursed in Vietnamese. "The Dark Mark."

Her friend whimpered.

Alex had to go – immediately. She rushed towards the point of origin as screams erupted throughout the woods. In her blind panic, she didn't see the small figure directly in her path. Both of them yelped as they fell.

Good thing, too, because just then multiple red stunners came flying their way.

Alex could feel her heart in her throat. She waited a second, then another, before sitting up and casting another Shield Charm over herself. It was a feeble one, smaller and weaker than her last. Still, she had to hope it was enough.

"Can you fight?" she asked the house-elf she had knocked to the ground.

Big brown eyes peered up at her in shock. "Winky cannot—"

"Who's there?" barked an agitated voice. "Raise your hands and identify yourself!"

Alex winced as a bright lumos blinded her. She blinked rapidly to adjust to the lighting. When her sight finally settled, she realised who the man holding the wand was.

"Mr Diggory?" she asked, baffled. She hadn't seen the man in years – Cedric only invited her over whenever he was gone.

Recognition flickered through Mr Diggory's face. "You're my son's friend, are you not?" He must've reached some sort of conclusion, for his expression hardened. "What are you doing here at the scene of the crime?"

What, was he accusing her of casting the Dark Mark?

"No offense, Mr Diggory, but even if I was smart enough — or insane enough to have cast that," she said, glancing at the skull in the sky, "why would I still be here? I would have run off by now." Only a moron would stay and let themselves be caught red-handed.

"You'd be surprised," he replied, his wand still pointed at her. "Criminals slip up all the time."

Alex stared flatly at her friend's dad, distinctly unimpressed with his indictments.

"Amos!" called another voice. It was coming from wherever Mr Diggory had initially been. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes!" he called back, never leaving his eyes from Alex or the trembling house-elf latched onto her leg. "I've got two!"

Mr Diggory jutted his head to the side sharply. "C'mon, then," he said, urging them to head that way. "And no funny business."

This is outrageous, Alex seethed. She was out of viable options, though; she had to comply. Seeing how the house-elf could no longer cling onto her, Alex offered them support by holding their hand as they marched onwards, hyperaware of the wand pointed at her back. The gesture seemed to soothe the worst of their nerves, as they ceased to snivel so audibly – it also helped ground Alex by ensuring she kept her fury in check.

They reached a clearing filled with around ten wizards and witches altogether. To her surprise (and chagrined amusement) she recognised over half of them.

"What's up?" she said cavalierly as she locked eyes with Harry.

Hermione slapped a hand to her face, muffling her groan.

"Who are you?" demanded a man with greying hair. His toothbrush moustache jogged Alex's memory – right, he was Mr Crouch, the stern-faced man in the top box. She remembered him clearly due to the way Percy almost did a jig when Mr Crouch acknowledged him by name.

"Barty, no," protested Mr Weasley. "That's my son's friend. She came here with us."

"There was no one else there," said Mr Diggory from behind her. "No one but her and her elf."

Alex reared her head back in indignation. "I don't have an elf," she scoffed.

"Elf?" Mr Crouch lowered his gaze. Alex watched as shock washed away his scowl. "Why, that's…"

"She's yours, isn't she, Mr Crouch?" prompted Mr Weasley. "We saw her saving you a seat in the stadium."

Winky's hand began to shake in Alex's grip. Concerned, Alex gave her a reassuring squeeze.

"Merlin's beard," murmured Mr Diggory. "The elf has a wand."

"Hey!" Harry yelped in realisation. "That's my wand!"

"Why would a house-elf have your wand?" asked Mr Diggory, bewildered like the rest of them.

"I dropped it," he explained, taking half a step forward.

Mr Diggory pounced on that like a starving manticore. "Is this a confession? You threw it aside after you conjured the Mark?"

"Really?" drawled Sirius. "You really think the Boy-Who-Lived conjured the Dark Mark?"

Alex was getting some serious flashbacks to her third year at school. Enemies of the Heir, she thought wryly.

Judging by the look Hermione was sending her, she knew exactly what was on her mind.

"I didn't drop it there, anyway," continued Harry, jerking his thumb toward the trees beneath the skull. "I missed it right after we got into the woods."

"So," said Mr Diggory, peering down at Winky, "you found this wand, eh, elf? And you picked it up and thought you'd have some fun with it, did you?"

"Don't talk to her like that!" snarled Alex, whirling around to glare at the prick. "She's terrified!"

"Be quiet, girl."

"I is not doing magic with it, sir!" squealed Winky, tears streaming down the sides of her tomato-like nose. "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!" burst out Hermione. She looked very nervous, speaking up in front of all these Ministry wizards, yet determined all the same. "Winky's got a squeaky little voice, and the voice we heard doing the incantation was much deeper!" She looked around at Harry and Ron, appealing for their support.

Harry nodded. "It definitely didn't sound like an elf."

"Yeah, it was a human voice," confirmed Ron with a harsh frown.

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

Was he enjoying this? Did he take pleasure from tormenting those with less power than himself?

Mr Diggory grabbed Harry's wand from Winky's loose grasp and performed Prior Incantato, the Reverse Spell.

A smaller version of the serpent-tongued skulls materialised above the wands, except was made of grey smoke instead of the sickly green haunting the sky.

"Deletrius!" shouted Mr Diggory. The ghost-of-a-spell disappeared.

Winky shook violently beneath Mr Diggory's smug stare. "I is not doing it!" she squealed, her eyes widening in terror. "I is not knowing how! I is a good elf, I isn't using wands!"

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

"It's not exactly a commonly known spell," interjected Sirius. He appeared about a second away from rolling his eyes in disdain. "Where, pray tell, do you think she could've learnt it? Or are you implying her master taught it to her?"

Mr Diggory swallowed audibly as Mr Crouch's thunderous glower landed on him. "Mr Crouch, I- I would never suggest such a thing," he muttered, flushed with embarrassment.

"Winky?" prodded Mr Weasley. "Where did you find Harry's wand?"

Winky was twisting the hem of her tea towel so violently that it was fraying beneath her fingers. She raised one shaky finger and pointed it at a copse of trees nearby.

"Did you see anyone?"

Winky's watery eyes wavered as she sought support from Mr Crouch. "I is seeing no one, sir…no one…"

That's a lie. Alex stared at Winky, dumbfounded. What was she hiding? Who had she seen?

"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."

And then… And then he freed her, then and there in front of them all. Unlike with Dobby, Winky wanted anything but freedom. She threw herself at Mr Crouch's feet, wailing apologies and begging for forgiveness. Hermione tried to defend Winky's apparent disobedience, but Mr Crouch was having none of it.

With nothing left to be done, they left the clearing. Hermione continuously glanced back, no doubt concerned for Winky.

"People are the worst," Alex murmured sympathetically, nudging Hermione's arm with her own.

Hermione nodded listlessly.

"I don't understand," Ron was saying to his dad. "What's that mark?"

"The Dark Mark," said Alex. "It's You-Know-Who's symbol." She had heard of it extensively in those first few years of her new life.

Harry absently rubbed his scar. "So does that mean—?"

"No," Sirius said firmly. "Whoever cast it wasn't with the Death Eaters who started the riot. As soon as they saw the Mark, they disapparated."

A part of Alex was frustrated at the lack of anti-disapparation wards, but she supposed the aurors were too busy actually protecting everyone to think that far ahead.

Mum. Alex's chest felt tight. As much as she wanted to go look for her, Alex knew Mr Weasley wasn't going to let her out of sight any time soon.

Sirius took the direct approach. He brought a fist down onto her head. "That's for rushing into things," he said, ignoring her squawk of surprise.

"Like you wouldn't have done the same," she harrumphed.

"True, but I would've brought my friends with me at least."

She stared at him. "Are you asking me to endanger your godson?"

He snorted. "Like he didn't try to follow you," he said in an undertone.

Alex shuddered at the thought of Harry running head first into the Death Eaters. They would've been overjoyed to toss him in the air like a marionette as they had with that muggle family.

It also could've been Hermione up there. Or Grant or Stephen or even herself, dressed in muggle pyjamas as she was.

Such thoughts plagued her for the rest of the night.