Welcome, one and all, to the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Not much to say except...

Disclaimer: I don't own HP, simple as that.

Now, here's...

Chapter Nine: A Dark Confrontation

Enjoy, everyone!

"Don't tell you 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 decided, 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. Raucous singing was borne toward them on the night air as they retraced their steps along the lantern-lit path, and stardust kept sprinkling overhead, making it look as if they were walking through a cosmic snowglobe. When they finally reached the tents (and Marcus had said good-bye to his teammates and American friends), they were greeted by a woman blonde hair tied up like a front desk clerk, business robes, and a straight face.

She saw Marcus and bowed slightly, saying, "On behalf of Booker Industries, we'd like to congratulate you on your winnings of ten thousand galleons."

"What the -?!" he heard Mr. Weasley said.

Ron turned to Marcus and said, "How?!"

"I made a very specific bet to Mr. Booker earlier today," Marcus explained. "U.S. All-Stars would win the match, 170-160. Viktor Krum would catch the Snitch and Percival Braxton would score the first goal of the match, 200 Galleons placed on the bet with 50-1 odds."

"Bloody Hell," said Ron. "Remind me never to bet against you, ever."

After telling the businesswoman to deposit the winnings in his Gringotts vault, Mr. Weasley pitched the idea of having a cup of cocoa together before turning, as it was plainly evident that no one was tired in the slightest. Watching over Twink, Marcus watched as everyone started to enjoyably argue 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 Marcus, Harry, 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 Americans they've got to stop celebrating."

Marcus, try as he might to fall asleep, could not. His mind kept wandering, jumping from one event in his life to another, his mysteries swirling around him like mist. What exactly was going on with him and his body, and why had it only started happening this summer? What sorts of new things would happen at Hogwarts, and just how much progress would he make this year? How soon would he be able to train with Lorelei again?

Finally giving up on sleep, Marcus got up, changed out of pajamas and into the U.S. Battle attire his American friends put together for him, and managed to wash the paint off his face.

Marcus started walking toward the exit of the tent when he saw Twink, who originally was resting, flying toward him and sitting on his shoulder, looking at him.

"Sorry, Twink," said Marcus. "I didn't want to disturb you."

Twink then pointed his left arm toward himself.

"Yes, of course you can come with me," said Marcus, smirking. "I would love the company."

Putting his hood up so that no one would spot him, Marcus went through the crowd, weaving in and out of the fanatic witches and wizards. Twink, sensing Marcus' want of anonymity, hid himself in his hood so that he wouldn't bring attention to Marcus.

Marcus didn't know how long he walked, being lost in his own thoughts. All he knew what that, after realizing he was on the outer edge of a clump of forest, he decided to lay his back against a rather large oak.

Twink then emerged from the hood, leaning to the side, all the while looking at Marcus.

He lowered his hood and said, "I'm all right, Twink - or at least, I will be."

Twink then sat on his left shoulder and looked at him.

Marcus sighed and said, "I should be happy, Twink, I really should. This summer has been fantastic. I have friends and family that care about me, I've worked hard to be where I am today, my favorite Quidditch Team won the World Cup."

He looked at Twink and said with a smirk, "The Star Men felt I was worthy enough to have you."

Twink glowed yellow, which Marcus interpreted to be of joy.

Marcus then looked back to the sky and continued, "Though, I've gone through this enough times to know that something's going to happen. I can feel it, Twink. Even among a crowd of magic folk who are drunk off of joy and happiness, I can sense that something's not right. It's the calm before the storm, and now that storm is rolling on in."

Suddenly, he heard a twig snap in front of him.

Marcus lept to his feet, summoned his wand, and pointed it in the direction of the sound, only to find -

"Cedric!" said Marcus, startled. "What are you doing here?!"

"I was going to ask you the same thing!" said Cedric, who sounded just as startled.

"What do you mean?"

"You're on the outer edge of Field Two," stated Cedric. "That's about two and a half miles from your campsite."

"Crap, I walked that far from the campsite?" said Marcus. "Wow, guess I didn't realize."

Cedric then noticed Twink and said, "Is that a Star Child?!"

"Yeah," said Marcus, grinning. "Twink, meet Cedric Diggory. Cedric, this is Twink."

Twink flew around his head a few times and landed back on Marcus' left shoulder.

"Wow, you're so lucky!" said Cedric. "Clearly, the Star Men saw something special about you."

"I'm not entirely sure about that, but -" Marcus started to say.

In that moment, Marcus found his ears, quite suddenly, getting bombarded with all the noises the magic folk around him were making.

"OW!" said Marcus, cupping his ears.

Cedric then hurried to his side and said, "Are you all right?!"

"Nothing to really worry about," said Marcus, though he didn't feel that way. "Just been having ear problems, that's all."

"Should we go and see if someone can help?"

"I'm not sure if -"

Then it happened.

Amongst the multitude of noise Marcus was getting subjected to, he heard a most disturbing sentence.

"It's been thirteen years, hasn't it, fellow Death Eaters?"

Marcus' head, which was looking to the ground, shot up, eyes practically bulging out of his head.

"Marcus, what's wrong?!" Cedric said to him.

However, Marcus didn't hear him. Suddenly, he found himself unable to hear anything else except the following conversation:

"Everyone know the plan, then?"

"Of course we do! Cloaked and masked, like we are now, we plow through the campsites, blasting anything in our way!"

"What if we find any filthy Muggles, huh?"

"Ooh, good question! Hey, we can have some fun with them, right?"

"I don't see why not. The more attention we bring to ourselves, the better."

"Right, right, 'all in accordance to your grand plan'. Bah! Let's just go and have some fun!"

Marcus knew, based on how quiet they were, that they had to be on the other side of the camping area. There was no time to lose.

Marcus looked at Twink and said in a very serious tone, "Twink, find Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Find them, and lead them to the safest part of the nearby woods to them. Stay with them until I meet up with them and do not get caught! Now, go! Please!"

Twink must've understood how serious Marcus was, for Twink took off in the direction of the campsite.

"Marcus, what -"

"Death Eaters!"

"WHAT?!"

"Cedric, lead as many people as you can into the woods!" Marcus practically yelled before taking off.

"WAIT, MARCUS!" bellowed Cedric, but Marcus didn't stop.

He ran. He ran and ran and ran, enhancing his vision to try and pinpoint the Death Eaters. Not fifteen seconds into trying to run towards them did he start to hear it: The screams, the people terrified, bangs and explosions that were potentially harming people.

"Damn it, I'm too late!" thought Marcus. "I've got to try and do something before anyone dies!"

He continued to run, fast as he could go. Finally, after twelve minutes minutes of running, he saw them: A crowd of people, cloaked in pitch black auras, blasting fire in every direction possible, and to Marcus' horror, they were already dangling Muggles in the air.

Marcus went into a state of anger akin to seeing the pure-blood veela in the World Cup match.

"Fuck not using magic now!" Marcus thought as he summoned his wand, pointed it at his chest, and yelled, "Eximo!"

Suddenly, his speed increased five fold, easily covering the remaining gap between him and the Death Eaters.

Once he did, he pointed the wand back on himself and said, "Finite Incantatum!"

Upon releasing the spell, he allowed himself to get more and more angry until, finally, he couldn't stop himself.

He ran around behind the Death Eaters and, going as fast as he could go, punched one of the Death Eaters behind the head.

Before any of the Death Eaters knew what was going on, Marcus broke through to the other side and stopped twenty feet in front of them.

"It was a mistake to show up tonight after all this time in hiding, Death Eaters!" yelled Marcus, barely containing himself. "Now you're going to deal with me!"

"Well, well, if it isn't Marcus Williams!" said a voice, which was distorted to the point of being unrecognizable.

"What an idiot!" cackled a different distorted voice. "Instead of being a good little scaredy cat, like everyone else, he charges at us, falling right into our laps!"

"Enough talking!" yelled a deeper distorted voice. "Get him!"

Marcus, wanting to advance on him, was forced to play defense. So many spells were being shot at him, it was all he could do to block them using his armguards.

Getting pissed that he wasn't getting anywhere, he risked summoning his wand, pointing it at them, and yelled, "INCENDIO!"

A mass of fire came hurtling towards them, but the Death Eaters just laughed and dissipated the fire like it was child's play.

"He wants to play, huh?" said a distorted voice. "All right, then. We'll play!"

Marcus, only seeing it just in time, bent back as far as he could go and saw a great, whoosing green light fly by, only an inch away from his face. He knew he barely escaped that with his life.

He straightened himself out, pointed again, and yelled, "CONFRINGO!"

Marcus blasted the ground in front of him, causing the Death Eaters to scramble back from it.

Marcus started to grin and said, "That's all Voldemort's closest allies got?! Pathetic!"

"That's it! He's mine!" yelled a distorted voice.

One of the Death Eaters stepped forward and fired a spell that, while Marcus blocked with his armguards, forced him to careen head over heels.

Marcus quickly got up, only to be blasted by the same spell again, blocking it, but once again forcing to careen head over heels.

Marcus, while still getting to his feet, got up slowly and staggered. He was beat up, he was wiped, and there was little he could do.

The Death Eater facing him blasted the same spell and Marcus embraced for the worst.

"PROTEGO!" yelled a very familiar voice.

The spell made no contact against Marcus, instead slamming into an invisible magical barrier.

Marcus turned his head and saw -

"Cedric?! Why are you here?!"

"Saving you, what do you think it looks like?!"

"Ooh, twice the fun now!" said a disorted voice behind the leading Death Eater.

All of a sudden, another familiar voice shouted, "LUMOS SOLREM!"

A torrence of light shined in the Death Eaters' eyes, blinding them all.

"What the -?!" said Marcus.

He looked behind to find his Dad grabbing him and Cedric, saying, "Hold on!"

He then felt the familiar sensation of being squeezed into a tube and, before he knew it, him and Cedric were in a wooded area.

"Dad, what the -?!" Marcus started to say.

However, Michael didn't have time to speak as he Disapparated, no doubt to face the Death Eaters.

"Marcus, you're hurt!" said Cedric.

"Meh, I'm fine," said Marcus, but he couldn't help but feel that Cedric was more right than he realized.

All of a sudden, without warning, a voice uttered, not a panicked shout, but what sounded like a spell.

"MORSMORDRE!"

Out of the darkness, something vast, green, and glittering erupted from an area to Marcus' right; it flew up over the treetops and into the sky.

"What in the -?!" Cedric started to say.

Marcus saw a gruesome form take shape; An appearance of a colossal skull, comprised of what looked like emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. Marcus and Cedric watched as it rose higher and higher, blazing in a haze of greenish smoke, etched against the black sky like a new constellation.

As the wooded area suddenly erupted with screams, Marcus growled in anger at it. Though this was his first time seeing it in person, there was no doubt what it was from the countless times his parents told him stories from the First Wizarding War: The Dark Mark, Voldemort's calling card, in which it almost always indicate a death (usually murder) has taken place within the direct vicinity.

"Another Death Eater is in here?!" thought Marcus, who enhanced his vision and looked around.

For a couple of seconds, Marcus locked onto an human outline with pitch black and distortion of blue, swirling around the outline like a vortex.

He only took one step toward the figure when he heard a familiar voice saying, "It's the Dark Mark, Harry!"

Marcus turned his head toward the source of the voice, saying, "Hermione! Harry! Ron!"

Marcus ran as fast as his condition would let him, forcing Cedric to hurry after him. Marcus was only a few feet behind them when he heard a series of popping noises announcing the arrival of twenty wizards, appearing from thin air, surrounding the area.

Marcus, his vision enhanced, saw twenty magic folk with red auras, their wands out and pointing at Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

Instantly, Marcus yelled, "DUCK!"

As Marcus reached his three friends, he heard twenty voices roaring, "STUPEFY!"

Luckily, the majority of the fiery red lights missed them, due to his friends ducking. A couple came close, but Marcus swatted them away using his armguards. However, one jet of red light managed to make contact with him, which almost forced Marcus to lose consciousness. However, he forced himself to get as angry as he could go, using the adrenaline rush to counteract the effect of the spell.

"Ugh, the Stunning Spell," thought Marcus. "I freaking hate this spell."

"Stop!" yelled another familiar voice, "STOP! That's my son!"

Marcus, who was on all fours due to being hit by the Stunning Spell, looked up and saw that the wizard that got close to them lowered his wand. He looked to the right and saw that Mr. Weasley striding towards them, looking terrified.

"Ron - Harry - Marcus -" his voice sounded shaky - "Hermione - are you all right?"

"Out of the way, Arthur," said a cold, curt voice.

As Marcus saw Mr. Crouch approaching them with the other Ministry wizards, he saw Twink landing on his left shoulder, patting his cheek with one of his pointed hands.

"I'll be all right, Twink," said Marcus in a quiet voice. "You did a fantastic job. I'll need you to get inside my hood and keep yourself there until I say so."

Twink did what he was told and, by the time he got inside Marcus' hood, he saw Mr. Crouch standing in front of him, the man's face taut with rage.

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

"We didn't do that!" said Harry, gesturing 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?"

"Probably because Mr. Crouch told them to," Marcus growled. "Probably jumped to conclusions like everyone else."

"Do not give me that tone, sir!" shouted Mr. Crouch. His wand was pointed directly at the area between Marcus' eyes, and Mr. Crouch's eyes were popping - he looked slightly mad. "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 -"

"This one would!" shouted Mr. Crouch, pointing to Marcus with his free hand. "Don't let his fame fool you for one bit! He's a chip off the old block, mark my words!"

Marcus narrowed his eyes, his right fist clenched, ready to punch him. It didn't help any that Mr. Crouch's wand tip was on the verge of touching his face.

Suddenly, a pop was heard in the air, and a wand was touching Mr. Crouch's right temple.

"Lower your wand or else I will blast your head off from your shoulders," a familiar voice said in such a dark tone it sent that all-too-knowing shiver up Marcus' spine.

Mr. Crouch looked to his right, saw that it was Michael Williams, and said, "You surely don't think -"

"I do," said Michael in the same dark tone. "Now, lower your wand."

Mr. Crouch, very reluctantly, lowered his wand and backed away from Marcus.

Michael then looked at Marcus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione and said, "Where did the Mark come from?"

"Over there, Mr. Williams," 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, disbelief etched all over his face. "Said an incantation, did they? You seem very well informed about how that Mark is summoned, missy -"

"Enough!" shouted Michael, which shut Mr. Crouch right up.

Marcus looked around and could tell, from the look on their faces, that none of them though that it was remotely likely that Marcus, Harry, Ron, or Hermione had conjured the Dark Mark; 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 that Marcus recognized to be Mr. Diggory. "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. Marcus looked at his father, about to ask him a question, when he saw the look his father was giving him. His eyes were narrowed and his lips were thin, which was only reserved for occassions when Marcus royaly screwed up.

Marcus decided not to say anything as he heard Mr. Diggory shout, "Yes! We got them! There's someone here! Unconscious! It's - but - blimey..."

They heard snapping twigs, the rustling of leaves, and then crunching footsteps as Mr. Diggory reemerged from behind the trees. He was carrying a tiny, limp figure in his arms. Marcus instantly recognized the figure wearing the tea towel: It was Winky.

Mr. Crouch did not move or speak as Mr. Diggory deposited his elf on the ground at his feet. The other Ministry wizards were all staring at Mr. Crouch. For a few seconds Crouch 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."

But Mr. Crouch did not seem prepared to take his word for it. They could hear him moving around and the rustling of 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, Father," said Cedric, who appeared from behind Marcus, Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Marcus had completely forgotten that Cedric had gone with him, so it gave him a bit of a start. "You don't seriously think it was the elf?"

"The Dark Mark's a wizard's sign, Amos," Michael told him. "It requires a wand."

"Yeah," said Mr. Diggory," and she had a wand."

"What?" said Mr. Weasley, Cedric, and Mr. Williams.

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

"Well, unfortunately, that breaks clause three of the Code of Wand Use," said Michael grimly. "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. Looking breathless and disoriented, he spun on the spot, goggling upward at the emerald-green skull.

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

Mr. Crouch had returned empty-handed. His face was still ghostly white, and his hands and his 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, shinky 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, "Ennervate!"

Winky stirred feebly. Her great brown eyes opened and she blinked several times in a bemused sort of way. Watched by the silent wizards, she raised herself shakily into a sitting position. She caught sight of Mr. Diggory's feet, and slowly, tremulously, raised her eyes to stare up into his face; then, more slowly still, she looked up into the sky. Marcus could see the floating skull reflected twice in her enormous, glassy eyes. 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.

"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. Diggoy, brandishing it in front of her.

"Hey - that's mine!" Harry said.

Marcus looked back at him with a confused look.

"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, who was jerking his thumb toward the trees beneath the skull. "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, 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 dwon the sides of her squashed and bulbous nose. "I is...I is...I is just picking it up, sir! I is not making the Dark Mark, sir, I is not knowing how!"

"It wasn't her!" said Hermione. She looked very nervous, speaking up in front of all the Ministry wizards, yet determined all the same. "Winky's got a sqeaky little voice, and the voice we heard doing the incantation was much deeper!" She looked around at Harry and Ron, 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.

"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.

Marcus drew a sharp, quick breath as a gigantic serpent-tongued skull erupted from the point where the two wands met, but it was a mere shadow of the green skull high above them; it looked as though it were made of thick gray 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 Winky, who was still shaking convulsively.

"I is not doing it!" she squealed, her eyes rolling in terror. "I is not, I is not, I is not knowing how! I is a good elf, I isn't using 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 Michael Williams in a loud, stern voice. "Think about it...there are very few wizards who would know how to cast that spell...How would Winky go about learning such a spell?"

"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. Mr. 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 that you remember that 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!" Mr. 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..."

Michael, who was quiet for some time, finally spoke. "You see, Amos? Whoever conjured the Mark could have Disapparated right after they'd done it, leaving Harry's wand behind. It's the smartest thing the culprit could've done, as they weren't using their own wand to cast the spell. Doing so would've done the culprit in the moment their own wand was examined. All Winky had was the misfortune to come across the wand moments later and picking 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 it was clear to Marcus that Mr. Crouch was such an important member of the Ministry that he didn't dare refuse him.

"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!"

Marcus knew that the only way to turn a house-elf free was to present it with proper garments. He watched with a heavy heart as Winky clutched at her tea towel as she sobbed over Mr. Crouch's feet.

"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 the 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 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 -"

Marcus saw Mr. Diggory handing Harry his wand and, as he pocketed, he heard his father say, "Cedric, can you help my son get back to Mr. Weasley's campsite? I have to have a word with your father and Mr. Crouch and take care of a few things."

"Certainly, Mr. Williams," said Cedric who, before Marcus could say anything, hoisted the white-haired wizard on his back.

"Come on, everyone," Mr. Weasley said quietly. But Hermione didn't seem to want to move; her eyes were still upon the sobbing elf. "Hermione!" Mr. Weasley said, more urgently. She turned and followed Harry and Rn out of the clearing and off through the trees.

Marcus could hear, ahead of him and Cedric, Hermione say upon leaving the clearing, "What's going to happen to Winky?"

"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 right. 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.

Cedric then said in a quiet tone so that only Marcus can hear, "You're pretty lucky you came out the other side of that skirmish with your life."

"It's not good enough, Cedric," Marcus said. "How can I expect to face the Dark Prince if I can't defeat a few Dark Wizards?"

"You're an underaged wizard whose body is just starting to mature," said Cedric in the same quiet tone. He wasn't scolding Marcus, that much he could tell. He was just stating facts. "Against overage wizards, with more knowledge and a more ruthless mentality, it wasn't just reckless, it was a suicidal act."

Marcus couldn't say anything, due to how right Cedric was.

"Though, to be fair, it was because of your physical training and your will to get better that enabled you to stand up to them and live. Not many wizards can say that."

"And I have a banged up body to prove it, too," said Marcus.

Cedric gave a sort of muffled laugh and said, "All I'm saying, Marcus, is that I wouldn't dwell on it too much. You reflect, you find out what you need to do to correct it, and you move on. Given a few more years, and you keep doing what you've been doing, you'll be able to take them down, no problem. In the meantime, when we get to Hogwarts, we'll help each other get better."

Marcus, who was quite moved by his words, said, "Thanks, Cedric."

"No problem, Marcus," said Cedric with a smirk. He looked to his right and asked Marcus," This is your tent, right?"

Marcus looked at Mr. Weasley's tent and said, "Yeah, that's it."

"All right, then," Cedric said. "Nice and easy does it."

He slowly crouched down, so that Marcus could get off. The moment he did get off, Marcus knew that he sprained a good number of muscles in his body, and he was feeling more fatigued than he realized.

"I'll see you at Hogwarts, Marcus," said Cedric. "Don't forget, let me know when you start your training."

"I will, Cedric," said Marcus. "See you later."

Once Cedric departed, Marcus saw Charlie's head poking out of the tent.

"Marcus!" said Charlie. "Bloody hell, are you all right?!"

"I don't want to talk about it," said Marcus flatly.

The two of them then saw Mr. Weasley approaching the tent with Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"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. Marcus hobbled in after him, followed by Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

Bill was sitting at the small kitchen table, holding a bedsheet to his arm, which was bleeding profously. 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, and Hermione, 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 got on fairly well with Percy - better, indeed, than any of the others.

"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 of 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 again."

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

"Ron, You-Know-Who and his followers sent the Dark Mark into the air whenever they killed," said Mr. Weasley. "The terror is 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. Everyone, save for Marcus, flinched at the sound of the Dark Lord's name. "Sorry," said Harry quickly. "What were You-Know-Who's supporters up to, levitating Muggles? I mean, what's 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 disgustingly.

"But if they were 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 to and get an early Portkey out of here."

At that moment, the entrance opened, and Marcus saw his parents step through the threshold.

"Sorry about being so late," Michael said to Mr. Weasley. "My errands took a little later than I thought. If you don't mind, Arthur, my wife and I need to borrow the other tent so that we can have a talk with our son."

Marcus felt the angry stare from his father bearing down on him, making him start sweating a bit.

"Oh," said Mr. Weasley. "Oh, yes, of course, no problem."

"Come on, Marcus," said Brynn, who helped Marcus get out of the chair he was sitting in since getting back inside the tent.

Once they walked inside the girls' tent, Michael got out his wand and started waving it around. He did this for a few seconds, and put it away. "There we are," said Michael. "Now, on to the matter at hand."

Marcus, who was sitting on the chair at the table, was looking at his parents, unsure of how badly this was going to go.

"Marcus Michael Williams, do you have any idea how much of an idiot you were tonight?!" Michael roared at him.

Marcus had heard his father get mad before, sure, but this was far worse than anything he previously experienced. "Um, well -"

"You go charging full steam ahead against ruthless Death Eaters, and then what?!" Michael yelled. "Were you honestly expecting to single-handedly defeat them, just because you exercise and learned a few spells from a few years of schooling?!"

"Michael, perhaps you should -" Brynn began to say.

"No, Brynn!" Michael told her, looking quite mad. "It's time he heard this!"

Michael then looked at Marcus and said, "Over the past few years, you've done some foolish things, Marcus. Your mother and I haven't done anything about it because we thought you would've learned from the experiences. However, it's quite clear that you've gotten pretty reckless!"

"What other choices was left to me?" Marcus said, getting impatient.

"You contact Aurors, you lead people away from the danger, you ensure the people around you are all right!" yelled Michael. "YOU DON'T GO RUNNING HEAD FIRST INTO CERTAIN DEATH!"

"Are you saying I was better off running away?!"

"YES!" Michael roared. "LOOK AT YOU! BATTERED AND BRUISED FROM HEAD TO TOE, AND THEY WEREN'T EVEN BEING SERIOUS! HAVE YOU BOTHERED TO CONSIDER HOW YOUR FRIENDS WOULD'VE FELT, OR HOW YOUR MOTHER AND I WOULD'VE FELT, IF YOU HAD DIED TO THOSE DEATH EATERS TONIGHT?!"

Marcus was very much taken aback by this question.

"No -" he said after a minute of silence. "No, I didn't -"

"OF COURSE NOT!" roared Michael. "BUT, OF COURSE, YOU FEEL LIKE YOU HAVE TO PROVE A POINT, BECAUSE IN YOUR MIND, YOU NEED TO TAKE ON ALL MANNER OF FOES!"

"What I need to take on, someday, somehow, is the bastard who did this to me!" yelled Marcus, who stood up and lifted his shirt to reveal the horrendous crown scar with the X inside of it.

At this point, Brynn got inbetween them and said, "Look, Michael, let me handle it from here. Why don't you go tell Mr. Weasley our plans so that we don't waste any time after we're done here?"

Michael, who could only nod, got out of the tent in a hurry.

"Marcus, sit down," said Brynn, who got out her wand.

Marcus did so, saying, "I know what Dad's saying, Mom, but he can't honestly expect me to act like everyone else, right?"

While Brynn was using magic to heal Marcus, she sighed and said, "Of course not, Marcus. He knows and likes the fact that you do what it takes to make yourself better. We encourage you to make yourself better. But, we also want you to be able to use your head, to think rationally. Think about it, Marcus. Was going up against the Death Eaters the best decision you could've made tonight, when the place had trained Aurors and security?"

Marcus replied, "No...no, it wasn't."

As Brynn was finishing up with the healing magic, she continued, "You're a lot like me, Marcus. We both can't resist a good challenge, and we think much differently than a lot of people. We have to put in a lot more effort, more mental effort, to suppress the urge to fight. You have a good head on your shoulders, son. Don't let it go to waste."

"I won't, Mom," said Marcus, who felt slightly better.

At that moment, Michael came back into the tent and asked, "Brynn, is Marcus all healed up?"

"Yes, Michael, he is," said Brynn.

"Then, let's get going."

Marcus stood up and said, "Go? Now? Where are we going?"

"To Diagon Alley," he said in a slightly stern tone. "We're getting your school supplies."

"But, none of the shops will be open," said Marcus.

"I've had to pull a few strings, but they will be exclusively for us," Michael said. "Come on, let's go."

And this concludes this chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Feel free to leave a review on this story, as that always helps refine my skills as a writer! Also, if you want to ask me any questions, please don't hesitate to send me a PM and, I promise, I will answer them to the best of my ability! Until then, keep your eyes peeled for the next exciting chapter of HP: The Path of Trials!