Welcome, one and all, to the next chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! As we progress further along the adventures of Marcus Williams, I'd like to take this time to thank each and every one of you that reads my series, as I know you don't have to. Also...

Disclaimer: I know not a darn thing of HP except for OC's.

With that, here's...

Chapter 10: An Ominous Warning

Enjoy, one and all!

The Williams Family made a quick Disapparation to the house, then proceeded to use the Floo Network to get to the Leaky Cauldron and, from there, made their way to Diagon Alley.

It was the oddest thing to see Diagon Alley not full of bustling witches and wizards, but it was also refreshing to be able to go into a shop, get what they needed, and get out, something that was pretty much impossible in the middle of the day. A lot of the things that were on Marcus' supply list was pretty standard and subsequently the shops they had to go. The only thing that stood out on Marcus' list was -

"Dress robes?!" said a horrified Marcus, double checking his supply list. "What in the world would I need dress robes for in the first place?!

"If Hogwarts says you need dress robes, you need dress robes," said Michael flatly. "So, let's just go in Madam Malkin's store and get on with it."

"But, I avoid dress robes like the plague!" said Marcus.

"Oh, Marcus, dress robes aren't really that different from regular robes," said Brynn. "You know that."

Marcus, having been defeated, walked into Madam Malkin's store.

Immediately, he was greeted by the store owner, who said, "Welcome, welcome! The usual, I take it?"

"Yes," said Brynn with a smile. "He also needs dress robes, as well. What options do you have?"

At this, her face shined with glee as Madam Malkin said, "Oh, we have all sorts of different colors and fabric to choose from!" She looked at Marcus and think, "I recommend white dress robes, to match his gorgeous hair."

Marcus felt immediately irritated as he said, "I don't think -"

"What's your top of the line dress robe, Madam Malkin?" asked Michael, effectively cutting off Marcus.

"Well, since you asked, I have dress robes that change color for any occassion," said Madam Malkin with a smile. "All that would have to be done is point your wand at the dress robes while its touching the owner, say a color, and the dress robe will change to that color. The fabric is also top of the line, giving the owner a surreal feeling. One whole set, give or take, will cost about a thousand galleons."

"Perfect!" said Michael. "Marcus will be glad to get those dress robes, won't you, son?"

Resisting the urge to punch the nearest wall in sheer anger, Marcus used every ounce of willpower to say in an even tone, "Ah, yes, of course, that's an excellent idea, Father. Thank you for suggesting that."

Marcus knew that this was his father's way of punishing him, and he only did it with his Galleons. Usually, Marcus didn't spend his money on needless things, and the last exception he made was with his Firebolt. And, since his father knew he wanted to hold onto as much of his money as possible, he forced him in situations that left Marcus with no choice but to do what he said.

As he was getting fitted for school robes, Marcus noticed something that was really off.

"Wait, ma'am, are you sure those measurements are right?" he asked her.

"Of course I am," she said. "I've never been wrong when it comes to measuring."

"What in the world is going on here?!" he practically shouted.

"Marcus, what are you talking about?" asked Brynn, sounding quite worried.

"My ears have been super sensitive all summer, able to pick up conversations from long distances; I'm able to make out distinctive smells from long distances, too, and I've been trying to put on some bulk since March, but I seem to be getting smaller!"

"Marcus, you're going through a lot of changes," said Brynn rather quickly. "Your body does all sorts of things that'll stump you."

"And that includes my sense of smell and hearing?" asked Marcus in a disbelieving tone.

"Side effects," stated Brynn. "Happens all the time."

"Sure, it'll get irritating at times, but you'll just have to roll with the punches," said Michael.

Marcus then said, "Well, if that's all it is, I guess I have no choice."

The rest of the fitting went without a hitch and, when they left the store, Marcus said, "Well, that's everything on the list. How much time is left?"

Michael looked at his watch and said, "We have about a half-hour before Arthur plans on taking everyone back. Your mother and I have to stop at the Leaky Cauldron to contact the Ministry, so we'll be there. Take this time to do what you need, then we leave Diagon Alley."

"Right," said Marcus, who took off down the street.

As Michael watched his son take off down the street, Michael turned to Brynn and said, "Brynn, we're running out of time."

"I know that," said Brynn with a worried look on her face. "But, perhaps we'll be lucky and -"

"Brynn, his senses are already beginning to sharpen!" said Michael, getting impatient. "And you know what that means. Marcus is not an idiot. He'll figure it out sooner or later."

"But, he still hasn't come close to finding out," Brynn said in a matter-of-fact manner. "And he's going through a rough patch right now. Telling him would only make it worse."

"How long will you keep witholding this from him?" Michael asked Brynn. "Until the stars align perfectly and the world finds peace?" he added sarcastically.

"As long as I can," she replied stubbornly. "His life is far better off without that knowledge. We should know this best of all, given our own experiences."

At this response, Michael's face took on a grim feature and said, "Ah, I guess you're right. It would take a bizarre circumstance to make that information come to light. Come on, we've got to tell Fudge our reports."


Marcus found his way to the far end of Diagon Alley, where he found the abandoned building, but he knew better. The abandoned building was just a facade for what he was really after.

"Come on, Mr. Nilrem," though Marcus, shutting his eyes in concentration. "Come on, Mr. Nilrem!"

It took much more effort than normal, but eventually, Marcus saw "Mr. Nilrem's Warrior Emporium" appear before his eyes.

"Finally!" said Marcus, who opened the front door and crossed the threshold.

The moment he crossed the threshold, he knew something was odd.

Mr. Nilrem was with another customer. This wouldn't have come across as odd if it wasn't the first time he saw this happen and how the customer was dressed.

The customer in question was wearing a very elaborate set of Chinese robes, with intracate artwork that Marcus only saw on paintings and the like. If Marcus had to take a guess, this member was a very important member of eastern society. His shoes were of a bright, beautiful silk, but it also came off as something he wore every day.

The customer did have their back facing him, but upon the door closing, this person's head was brought up, revealing an elaborate hair bun Marcus didn't see before, and he heard the person speak in a rather deep voice, "Well, well, if it isn't Marcus Williams."

The person turned to face Marcus, whose eyes were the size of sacepans from disbelief, and saw that it was a man, who stood around five feet six inches, with long black hair tied up in a bun, a stern face, and blue eyes. Marcus could see that his eyes showed very little compassion. Rather, they were the kind of eyes that could've seen everything.

"So, this is his son," said the man, sounding unimpressed.

"Ah, yes," said Mr. Nilrem, who sounded a bit nervous. "Yes, he is."

"I take it you know my father?" asked Marcus, who was a bit on edge.

"Not in the slightest," said the man. "But, enough of that. It's quite good that we happen to meet now of all times, for I have much to tell you."

Marcus felt a little wary of this man, but he said, "Um, okay."

"Our current age has begun to unravel," said the man in the Chinese robes. "Granted, it has only started, and it will take some time to truly fall apart, but time is of the essence. When was the last time you had a Dark Prince nightmare?"

"What the -?!" Marcus said, getting rather frightened, considering that precious few people knew about that. "How did you -?!"

"Young Mr. Williams, I think it'll be best if you just answer his questions," Mr. Nilrem said.

Marcus then looked at the man and said, "It was just the other day. Him and Voldemort were conspiring in a run down mansion somewhere in the UK. I couldn't tell you anything more."

"Then it is a little further along than I thought," said the man, mostly to himself. He looked at Marcus and continued, "You may not realize it yet, Marcus, but what you and Harry Potter do in the upcoming years will set the stage for many years to come."

"I -"

"You may not believe in fate or destiny," said the man, effectively cutting Marcus off, "but trust me when I say that there are great things working in your life, things that even you don't realize yet. Continue to strive for excellence, as you always have, Marcus Williams, for if you let up, even for a single instant, you may not be able to have the power necessary to do what is ordained to you."

Marcus felt flabbergasted. This man was saying things that were really putting him on edge, and he didn't like it.

"Well, it's not like I'm going to just stop what I'm doing," said Marcus, unsure of what else to say.

"You may be tempted to by the time you're done with your fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Marcus Williams," the man told him.

"What the -?!"

"I'd practice constant vigilance, if I were you," said the man, who started to walk towards the back. He didn't take a few steps when he turned his head to the side and said, "Oh, by the way, give this message to your parents for when you return to the Leaky Cauldron: Their time is coming. Be prepared."

With this, the man walked into the back of the store.

"Mr. Nilrem, what was UP with that guy?!" said Marcus, sounding quite freaked out.

"Well, he's an enigma, that's for sure," said Mr. Nilrem, glancing at the back of the store. "But he knows what he's talking about. I'd take his advice to heart, if I were you, young Mr. Williams."

"Yeah, he sure sounded like he wasn't messing around," said Marcus in agreement. "So, Mr. Nilrem, anything interesting today?"

"Yes, two things in fact," said Mr. Nilrem who brought out two pieces of equipment: One was an incomplete shield, the other was a head piece that looked like a circlet.

"Wow," said Marcus, noticing the craftsmanship.

"Yes, these are remarkable pieces," said Mr. Nilrem. "The Shield is a round shield, designed mostly for bashing and shield wall tactics. However, the metal alloy that was used to forge this shield makes it so that it can withstand both magical and physical with ease. As you can see, it's incomplete. It needs strong material in the front of the shield to be complete. This is for your father."

He handed Marcus the incomplete shield and proceeded to say, "This head piece is what I called the Armor Circlet. Since the metal is formed out of the same metal as the shield and your armguards, it's light, super strong, and leaves the owner protected from head to toe. All that has to be done is tap it with a wand and it'll assume it full armor form. This one is for your mother."

"And how much is this going to cost me?" asked Marcus.

"They have already been bought for," said Mr. Nilrem, "by that enigmatic gentleman you met a little bit ago."

"I hope I don't have to meet him again," he said to Mr. Nilrem. "He freaks me out."

"Who knows," said Mr. Nilrem. "But, I do suggest that you don't make your parents wait for you, young Mr. Williams. Have a good day now."

"Yes, you too," said Marcus, who walked out of the store.

During the walk back to the Leaky Cauldron, Marcus found himself unnerved by that visit. The mysterious man did one thing to him that he wouldn't forget: He certainly made him much more paranoid than ever before.


Marcus walked into the longue of the Leaky Cauldron and saw his Mom and Dad by the fireplace.

"Oh, Marcus, there you are," said Michael, who saw Marcus and said, "Is everything all right? You're looking kind of pale."

"I'll be fine," said Marcus, who then got out the two pieces of equipment and said, "Here, Mom and Dad. I have two pieces of equipment for you. Dad, the incomplete shield is yours. If you want to make it complete, you'll have to find a strong material to fuse with the shield. Mom, this circlet is for you. It encases you in armor after you tap it with your wand. Also, I was told to tell you a message from a guy dressed in Chinese clothing."

After receiving their equipment, Marcus saw his father's eyes narrowing, but said all the same, "And what is that message?"

"Your time is coming. Be prepared."

This message set both of his parents on edge. However, they acted as if this didn't bother them as Michael took Floo Powder from the vase on top of the fireplace, put the powder in Marcus' hands, and said, "Go ahead and use it to get yourself to the Burrow. Your school things are already there. Oh, and you might want to assure Mrs. Weasley that everyone's all right. I didn't exactly get the chance to let her know."

Marcus sweatdropped a bit as he said, "All right. Wait, what about Blinky?"

"He's already at Hogwarts," said Brynn.

"Oh, okay," said Marcus, who walked inside the fireplace. "Wait, where are you guys going?"

"Your mother and I have some things to take care of," said Michael. "Don't worry, you'll see us sooner than you think."

"Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad," said Marcus, his voice full of concern.

He then raised his right hand above his head, said in a loud voice, "The Burrow!" and slammed the powder on the fireplace floor.

Once he made it to The Burrow's kitchenplace, he saw Mrs. Weasley rushing over, saying, "Marcus, thank goodness you're okay! How are the others? Are they okay?"

"Mrs. Weasley -"

"Goodness, I hope they're alright," said Mrs. Weasley, getting frantic and carrying what Marcus surmised was the morning edition of The Daily Prophet. "What'll happen if they - No, they have to be okay."

Feeling a little worried for Mrs. Weasley, he said, "Mrs. Weasley, why don't we go out to the front yard, get a bit of fresh air?"

"Oh, yes," said Mrs. Weasley. "Yes, of course."

So, the two of them made their way to the edge of the front yard, right at the fence.

They handn't been standing there for ten seconds when Marcus saw Mr. Weasley and everyone else walking toward the Burrow.

"See, Mrs. Weasley?" said Marcus, quite relieved that they showed up when they did. "They're all okay."

"Oh, thank goodness, thank goodness!"

Mrs. Weasley then took off towards them, Marcus jogging along with her.

When they met up with everyone else, Mrs. Weasley said, "Arthur - I've been so worried - so worried -"

She flung her arms around Mr. Weasley's neck, and the Daily Prophet fell out of her limp hand onto the ground. Looking down, Marcus saw the headline: SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP, complete with a twinkling black-and-white photograph of the Dark Mark over the treetops.

"You're all right," Mrs. Weasley muttered distractedly, releasing Mr. Weasley and staring around at them all with red eyes, "you're alive...Oh boys..."

And to everybody's surprise, she seized Fred and George and pulled them both into such a tight hug that their heads banged together.

"Ouch! Mum - you're strangling us -"

"I shouted at you before you left!" Mrs. Weasley said, starting to sob. "It's all I've been thinking about! What if You-Know-Who had got you, and the last thing I ever said to you was that you didn't get enough O.W.L.s? Fred...George..."

"Come on, now, Molly, we're all perfectly okay," said Mr. Weasley soothingly, prising her off the twins and leading her back toward the house. "Bill," he added in an undertone, "pick up that paper, I want to see what it says.."

When they were all crammed into the tiny kitchen, and Hermione had made Mrs. Weasley a cup of very strong tea, into which Mr. Weasley insisted on pouring a shot of Ogdens Old Firewhisky, Bill handed his father the newspaper. Mr. Weasley scanned the front page while Percy looked over his shoulder.

"I knew it," said Mr. Weasley heavily. "Ministry blunders...culprits not apprehended...lax security...Dark wizards running unchecked...national disgrace...Who wrote this? Ah...of course...Rita Skeeter."

"That woman's got it in for the Ministry of Magic!" said Percy furiously. "Last week she was saying we're wasting our time quibbling about cauldron thickness, when we should be stamping out vampires! As if it wasn't specifically stated in paragraph twelve of the Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-Humans -"

"Do us a favor, Perce," said Bill, yawning, "and shut up."

"I'm mentioned," said Mr. Weasley, his eyes widening behind his glasses as he reached the bottom of the Daily Prophet article.

"Where?" spluttered Mrs. Weasley, choking on her tea and whisky. "If I'd seen that, I'd have known you were alive!"

"Not by name," said Mr. Weasley. "Listen to this: If the terrified wizards and witches who waited breathlessly for news at the edge of the wood expected reassurance from the Ministry of Magic, they were sadly disappointed. A Ministry official emerged some time after the appearance of the Dark Mark alleging that nobody had been hurt, but refusing to give any more information. Whether this statement will be enough to quash the rumors that several bodies were removed from the woods an hour later, remains to be seen.' Oh really," said Mr. Weasley in exasperation, handing the paper to Percy. "Nobody was hurt. What was I supposed to say? Rumors that several bodies were removed from the woods...well, there certainly will be rumors now she's printed that."

He heaved a deep sigh. "Molly, I'm going to have to go into the office; this is going to take some smoothing over."

"I'll come with you, Father," said Percy importantly. "Mr. Crouch will need all hands on deck. And I can give him my cauldron report in person."

He bustled out of the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley looked most upset.

"Arthur, you're supposed to be on holiday! This hasn't got anything to do with your office; surely they can handle this without you?"

"I've got to go, Molly," said Mr. Weasley. "I've made things worse. I'll just change into my robes and I'll be off..."

"Mrs. Weasley," Marcus heard Harry suddenly say, "Hedwig hasn't arrived with a letter for me, has she?"

"Hedwig, dear?" said Mrs. Weasley distractedly. "No...no, there hasn't been any post at all."

Marcus looked at Harry with curiosity along with Ron and Hermione. With a meaningful look at the three of them, Harry said, "All right if I go and dump my stuff in your room, Ron?"

"Yeah...think I will too," said Ron at once.

"I need to put away my stuff, as well," said Marcus. "Hermione?"

"Yes," she said quickly, and the four of them marched out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

"What's up, Harry?" said Ron, the moment they had closed the door of the attic room behind them.

"There's something I haven't told you," Harry said. "On Saturday morning, I woke up with my scar hurting again."

Marcus was suddenly reminded of the enigmatic man at Mr. Nilrem's Warrior Emporium and was getting that unnerved feeling again. Hermione gasped and started making suggestions at once, mentioning a number of reference books, and everybody from Albus Dumbledore to Madam Pomfrey, the Hogwarts nurse. Ron simply looked dumbstruck.

"But - he wasn't there, was he? You-Know-Who? I mean - last time your scar kept hurting, he was at Hogwarts, wasn't he?"

"I'm sure he wasn't on Privet Drive," said Harry. "But I was dreaming about him...him and Peter - you know, Wormtail - and the Dark Prince. I can't remember all of it now, but they were plotting to kill...someone."

Marcus knew instantly what he was talking about, because he had that same dream earlier in the summer. He also knew that Harry avoided saying that they were plotting to kill him, but he wasn't going to bring it up.

"It was only a dream," said Ron bracingly. "Just a nightmare."

"Yeah, but was it, though?" said Harry, turning to look out of the window at the brightening sky. "It's weird, isn't it?...My scar hurts, and three days later the Death Eaters are on the march, and Voldemort's sign's up in the sky again."

"Don't - say - his - name!" Ron hissed through gritted teeth.

Harry then turned to Marcus and said, "Marcus, what do you think of this?"

Without hesitation, Marcus said, "I think we need to be prepared. The Dark Prince has rejoined Voldemort, and that gives Voldemort an undenying edge in whatever he's planning.

"Would you stop -?!" Ron began to say.

"Ron, seriously, not now," said Marcus. "Anyway, we know for sure that the two of them are coming after us. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, and perhaps not even a few month down the road, but they eventually will. It's just as Professor Trelawney predicted at the end of the school year, remember?"

"That's right!" said Harry. "She did say something like that!"

At once, Hermione's terrified look vanished as she let out a derisive snort.

"Oh, Harry, Marcus, you two aren't going to pay attention to anything that old fraud says?"

"You weren't there," said Harry. "You didn't hear her. This time was different. I told you, she went into a trance - a real one. And she said the Dark Lord would rise again...greater and more terrible than ever before...and he'd manage it because his servant was going to go back to him...and that night Wormtail escaped."

"And then the Dark Prince proceeded to blast his way out of Azkaban shortly afterwards," said Marcus grimly.

There was a silence in which Ron absentmindedly fidgeted with a hole in his Chudley Cannons bedspread.

"Why were you asking if Hedwig had come, Harry?" Hermione asked. "Are you expecting a letter?"

"I told Sirius about my scar," said Harry, shrugging. "I'm waiting for his answer."

"Good thinking!" said Ron, his expression clearing. "I bet Sirius'll know what to do!"

"I hoped he'd get back to me quickly," said Harry.

"But we don't know where Sirius is...he could be in Africa or somewhere, couldn't he?" said Hermione reasonably. "Hedwig's not going to manage that journey in a few days."

"Yeah, I know," said Harry.

"Hey, Marcus, Harry, come and have a game of Quidditch in the makeshift Quidditch field," Ron said. "Come on - Four on three, Bill and Charlie and Fred and George will play...You can try out that Wronski Feint, Harry..."

"Ron," said Hermione in an I-don't-think-you're-being-very-sensitive sort of voice, "Harry and Marcus don't want to play Quidditch right now...They're worried, and they're tired...We all need to go to bed..."

"Yeah, I want to play Quidditch," said Harry suddenly.

"Oh, that sounds fantastic!" said Marcus. "Harry and I will go and get our Firebolts. Hang on!"

Hermione left the room, muttering something that sounded very much like "Boys."


Neither Mr. Weasley nor Percy was at home much at all over the following week. Both left the house each morning before the rest of the family got up, and returned well after dinner every night.

"It's been an absolute uproar," Percy told them importingly the Sunday evening before they were due to return to Hogwarts. "I've been putting out fires all week. People keep sending Howlers, and of course, if you don't open a Howler straight away, it explodes. Scorch marks all over my desk and my best quill reduced to cinders."

"Why are they all sending Howlers?" asked Ginny, who was mending her copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi with Spellotape on the rug in front of the living room fire.

"Complaining about security at the World Cup," said Percy. "They want compensation for their ruined property. Mundungus Fletcher's put in a claim for a twelve-bedroomed tent with en-suite Jacuzzi, but I've got his number. I know for a fact he was sleeping under a cloak propped on sticks."

Mrs. Weasley glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. Marcus liked how practical the clock was. It was the most worthless thing in the world if you wanted to know the time, but it was very informative otherwise. It had nine golden hands, and each of them was engraved with one of the Weasley family's names. There were no numerals around the face, but descriptions of where each family member might be. "Home," "school," and "work" were there, but there was also "traveling," "lost," hospital," "prison," and, in the position where the number twelve would be on a normal clock, "mortal peril."

Eight of then hands were currently pointing to the "home" position, but Mr. Weasley's, which was the longest, was still pointing to "work." Mrs. Weasley sighed.

"Your father hasn't had to go into the office on weekends since the days of You-Know-Who," she said. "They're working him far too hard. His dinner's going to be ruined if he doesn't come home soon."

"Well, Father feels he's got to make up for his mistake at the match, doesn't he?" said Percy. "If truth be told, he was a tad unwise to make a public statement without clearing it with his Head of Department first -"

"Don't you dare blame your father for what that wretched Skeeter woman wrote!" said Mrs. Weasley, flaring up at once.

"If Dad hadn't said anything, old Rita would just have said it was disgraceful that nobody from the Ministry had commented," said Bill, who was playing chess with Ron. "Rita Skeeter never makes anyone look good. Remember, she interviewed all the Gringotts' Charm Breakers once, and called me 'a long-haired pillock'?"

"Well, it is a bit long, dear," said Mrs. Weasley gently. "If you'd just let me -"

"No, Mum."

As rain lashed against the living room window, Marcus was immersed deep in thought, trying to make sense of what that enigmatic man said to him. Hermione was immersed in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4, copies of which Mrs. Weasley had bought for her, Harry, and Ron in Diagon Alley. Charlie was darning a fireproof balaclava. Harry was polishing his Firebolt, the broomstick servicing kit Hermione had given him for his thirteenth birthday open at his feet. Fred and George were sitting over in a far corner, quills out, talking in whispers, their heads bent over a parchment.

"What are you two up to?" said Mrs. Weasley sharply, her eyes on the twins.

"Homework," said Fred vaguely.

"Don't be ridiculous, you're still on holiday," said Mrs. Weasley.

"Yeah, we've left it a bit late," said George.

"You're not by chance writing out a new order form, are you?" said Mrs. Weasley shrewdly. "You wouldn't be thinking of restarting Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, by any chance?"

"Now, Mum," said Fred, looking up at her, a pained look on his face. "If the Hogwarts Express crashed tomorrow, and George and I died, how would you feel to know that the last thing we ever heard from you was an unfounded accusation?"

Everyone laughed, even Mrs. Weasley.

"Oh your father's coming!" she said suddenly, looking up at the clock again.

Mr. Weasley's hand had suddenly spun from "work" to "traveling"; a second later it had shuddered to a halt on "home" with the others, and they heard him calling from the kitchen.

"Coming, Arthur!" called Mrs. Weasley, hurrying out of the room.

A few moments later, Mr. Weasley came into the warm living room carring his dinner on a tray. He looked completely exhausted.

"Well, the fat's really in the fire now," he told Mrs. Weasley as he sat down in the armchair near the hearth and toyed unenthusiastically with his somewhat shriveled cauliflower. "Rita Skeeter's been ferreting around all week, looking for more Ministry mess-ups to report. And now she's found out about poor Bertha going missing, so that'll be the headline in the Prophet tomorrow. I told Bagman he should have sent someone to look for her ages ago."

"Mr. Crouch has been saying it for weeks and weeks," said Percy swiftly.

"Crouch is very lucky Rita hasn't found out about Winky," said Mr. Weasley irritably. "There'd be a week's worth of headlines in his house-elf being caught holding the wand that conjured the Dark Mark."

"I thought we were all agreed that that elf, while irresponsible, did not conjure the Mark?" said Percy hotly.

"If you ask me, Mr. Crouch is very lucky no one at the Daily Prophet knows how mean he is to elves!" said Hermione angrily.

"Now look here, Hermione!" said Percy. "A high-ranking Ministry official like Mr. Crouch deserves unswerving obedience from his servants -"

"His slave, you mean!" said Hermione, her voice rising passionately, "because he didn't pay Winky, did he?"

"Mr. Weasley, how are my Mom and Dad faring at the office?" asked Marcus, more so to break away from that particular conversation.

"Pretty well, considering they're receiving the full brunt of the mess," said Mr. Weasley. "Not to mention that Skeeter woman is on the warpath to dig up anything on Michael and Brynn."

"Why would she go out of her way like that?"

"From what I understand, Rita Skeeter believes that there's something about your parents that, if people knew about it, would change the Wizarding World. Again, this is something I've only heard around the office, it can't really be trusted. And besides, Michael and Brynn are always a few steps ahead of her. It's actually quite funny, seeing it from a distance," he remarked.

"I think you'd all better go upstairs and check that you've packed properly!" said Mrs. Weasley. "Come on now, all of you..."

Marcus made his way to the top of the house along with Harry and Ron. The rain sounded even louder at the top of the house, accompanied by loud whistlings and moans from the wind, not to mention sporadic howls from the ghoul who lived in the attic. Pidwidgeon began twittering and zooming around his cage when they entered. The sight of the half-packed trunks seemed to have sent him into a frenzy of excitement.

"Bung him some Owl Treats," said Ron, throwing a packet across to Harry. "It might shut him up."

Harry poked a few Owl Treats through the bars of Pidwidgeon's cage while Marcus turned to his trunk.

"It's been over a week," Harry said, looking at Hedwig's deserted perch. "Ron, Marcus, you don't reckon Sirius has been caught, do you?"

"Nah, it would've been in the Daily Prophet," said Ron.

"Besides, the Ministry would want to show they'd caught someone, wouldn't they?" said Marcus.

"Yeah, I suppose..."

"Look, here's the stuff Mum got for you in Diagon Alley. And she's got some gold out of your vault for you...and she's washed all your socks," Ron told Harry.

As Harry started to pack his stuff, Marcus was packing his, but he was distracted. They hadn't got back to Hogwarts yet, and already, mysteries were appearing left and right. Why had that man said what he did, how come the Dark Mark showed when it did, and just what was in store for him and Harry at Hogwarts?

All of a sudden, Marcus heard Ron make a loud noise of disgust.

"What is that supposed to be?"

He was holding up something that looked to be like a long, maroon velvet dress. Marcus grimaced at the sight of the moldy-looking lace frill at the collar and matching lace cuffs.

There was a knock on the door, and Mrs. Weasley entered, carrying an armful of freshly laundered Hogwarts robes.

"Here you are," she said, sorting them into three piles. "Now, mind you pack them properly so they don't crease."

"Mum, you've given me Ginny's new dress," said Ron, handing it out to her.

"Of course I haven't," said Mrs. Weasley. "That's for you. Dress robes."

"What?" said Ron, looking horror-struck.

"Dress robes!" repeated Mrs. Weasley. "It says on your school list that you're supposed to have dress robes this year...robes for formal occasions."

"You've got to be kidding me," said Ron in disbelief. "I'm not wearing that, no way."

"Everyone wears them, Ron!" said Mrs. Weasley crossly. "They're all like that! Your father's got some for smart parties!"

"I'll go starkers before I put that on," said Ron stubbornly.

"Don't be so silly," said Mrs. Weasley. "You've got to have dress robes, they're on your list! I got some for Harry too...show him, Harry..."

Marcus watched Harry open what seemed to be his last package with trepidation. It wasn't as bad as Ron's disaster of dress robes, though. Harry's dress robes looked the same as his normal robes, like Marcus' were, except that, instead of black, they were bottle green.

"I thought they'd bring out the color of your eyes, dear," said Mrs. Weasley fondly. She then turned to Marcus and said, "What about you, Marcus, dear? Why don't you show us your dress robes?"

Knowing that he wasn't going to get out of it, Marcus got out one of his dress robes from the trunk and prayed that Mrs. Weasley wouldn't know the difference.

However, Mrs. Weasley must've had a sharp eye for clothes, because she gasped and said, "Oh, you got those dress robes?!" She whipped out her wand and said, "May I, dear?"

"Mrs. Weasley -" Marcus begun to say.

However, Mrs. Weasley, in her own little world, said, "Snow White," and tapped his dress robe.

Before his eyes, his dress robes started to change color. The snow white started to wash over the black, cascading like a waterfall until it covered the entire dress robe.

"Oh, that looks wonderful with you, dear," gushed Mrs. Weasley.

"Well, of course, their dress robes are all right!" said Ron angrily, gesturing to Marcus' and Harry's dress robes. "Why couldn't I have some like that?"

"Because...well, I had to get yours secondhand, and there wasn't a lot of choice!" said Mrs. Weasley, flushing.

Marcus hid his face in shame. Marcus would've been more than happy to share his money in his Gringotts vault with the Weasleys, but he knew they would never take it.

"I'm never wearing them," Ron was saying stubbornly. "Never."

"Fine," snapped Mrs. Weasley. "Go naked. And, boys, make sure you get a picture of him. Goodness knows I could do with a laugh."

She left the room, slamming the door behind her. There was a funny spluttering noise from behind them. Pidwidgeon was choking on an overlarge Owl Treat.

"Why is everything I own rubbish?" said Ron furiously, striding across the room to unstick Pidwidgeon's beak.


The Dark Prince, having a gym all to himself, was working out furiously. At the moment, he was working his back and chest muscles using bench press exercises.

He was in the middle of his last set when he heard a familiar voice say, "My Prince, I am here at your request."

He finished his exercise, looked to the right, and saw a familiar body kneeling twenty feet away from him, the hood over his head.

"You're lucky you didn't come during the middle of my workout, servant," said the Dark Prince coldly, who took a nearby towel and wiped off the sweat. "Status report, now."

"All went as you predicted," said the servant, still kneeling. "The U.K. has been thrown into disarray with suspicion and fear, though they haven't been plunged into it."

"Good, good," said the Dark Prince, smirking. "We can't have the people feeling hopeless just yet. There's still so much to prep for. Now, what about him? How did he do?"

"Given the situation, he performed better than we thought," said the servant. "He was able to hold us off for a couple of minutes and got off a couple of spells."

The Dark Prince frowned at this. "Only a couple of spells?"

"Yes, My Prince."

The Dark Prince gave a sort of tutting noise as he stated, "This won't do at all. I was sure he would be further along than this." He sighed, looked at the servant and said, "Rise, servant."

The servant rised to his feet, the hood being over his head so that his face couldn't be seen.

"And where is he now?"

"He's staying at The Burrow, home of the Weasleys," said the servant, who sounded a bit disgusted.

"Getting ready to go to Hogwarts, I take it?"

"Yes, My Prince."

The Dark Prince turned away from him, pacing, saying, "If I am to ensure myself of his progress, I must push him. Push him further than anyone has, and then further beyond that. Servant, I have another task for you."

"My Prince, anything you ask of me, it will be done," said the servant.

The Dark Prince turned once again to face his servant and said, "You are to go to America, my faithful servant. Seek out a servant of mine who has placed herself within the workings of the American Ministry of Magic's Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Bring her to me, no matter how long it takes."

"But, My Prince, I'm not sure if -"

The Dark Prince suddenly had Dark Energy grasped around the servant's throat, causing the servant to violently gag.

"I thought I made myself clear back at the Quidditch World Cup, servant," The Dark Prince growled through gritted teeth, sounding quite menacing. "I give you a task, you complete the task, no questions asked."

"U-Understood, My Prince," gagged the servant.

The Dark Prince reluctantly dissapated the Dark Energy and said, "Make it happen, servant, and do not present yourself before me without her by your side. Now go."

The servant immediately disappeared with a pop that rang in the silent air of the gym.

"My time grows ever so shorter before I am to have my ordained meeting," said The Dark Prince. "I must prepare for it."

He then Disapparated with a pop, leaving the empty gym without a trace...

And this concludes this chapter of HP: The Path of Trials! Please feel free to leave a review on this story, as this always helps me refine my skills as a writer! Also, if you have any questions you'd like to ask me, 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!