All around, there was a clatter of forks on plates as students ate dinner. Harry was staring at his peas, though he had his hands folded firmly in his lap. His eyes were dazed, staring into the golden plate as if there were another dimension beyond the shiny surfaces not concealed by peas, mashed potatoes, and roast ham. The sounds of chattering rolled off of him like water off of a duck's back, and he remained suspended in thought, an odd buzzing noise in his head. Perhaps it was the chatter, perhaps he had allowed himself to weaken his mind by seeping into thought. A moment later, Harry was clapping a hand to his forehead as a sharp pain shot through his scar. Ron, who had been sitting beside him, looked over from the middle of devouring a steak and kidney pie to stare in a concerned way at Harry. "You okay, mate?" the look said. Harry rubbed his forehead, trying to clear his mind. "It's just the scar again. Listen, I think I'm going to head to the common room - I want to finish my homework before midnight," Harry muttered. Without further explanation, he excused himself from the Great Hall. Yet when he reached the safety of the common room, he felt no desire to be in the company of chattering first years. Instead, Harry retreated to the cool air of his dormitory. Without undressing, Harry threw himself onto his bed and fell instantly into a fitful sleep.
A falcon soared into the Great Hall, drawing the eyes of curious students. It was dinner, and not morning post. The falcon landed in front of Charna, who took the letter and sent the bird on its way again. With a curious expression, Charna unfolded the letter. Her eyes scanned the page, and her face fell with each new line she absorbed. "I'm .. terribly sorry headmaster, but I need leave to visit my great uncle Willows. Dante as well. I'm afraid that my dear great uncle is not doing so well, you see … I should return by breakfast tomorrow morning. I would not ask on such short notice, but this letter," Charna waved it around, appearing truly distressed now. "This letter is from my sister, and she says that the healers do not expect him to last the night. He had an attack from a Lethifold, and it drained most of his life." Charna wiped away a tear rolling down her cheek. "I want to see him one last time, you know …" she trailed off into sad silence. Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "Of course you may go, and Miss Luna as well. If you do not return by breakfast, I can provide substitutes for you both." Charna looked as if anyone could have done her a greater favor. She nodded her thanks and left, Dante following shortly after.
"Well are you ready to go yet? To visit our dear great uncle?" Dante questioned with laughter in her voice. Her eyes followed Charna's progress around her sleeping quarters. With the four-poster draped with silken black sheets, Romulus took advantage of Charna's absence and slept soundly. Charna, meanwhile, rummaged in the depths of her wardrobe, frantically searching for an object and growing more distressed by the minute. When Dante entered, Charna had not taken notice, but she continued her rummaging. As Dante spoke to her, shattering the silence broken only by a few curse words and the sound of more shifting of items in Charna's wardrobe. Charna did not even look up, but laughed softly. "Yes, I thought that was rather good myself," Charna muttered, before continuing her search with renewed fervor. Victorious, she slid something black and glittering into the depths of her thick black cloak pocket. The door of the wardrobe shut with a snap of finality. "Yes, yes let's go now," Charna muttered, somewhat distracted. She crossed the distance to the fire, and from over the mantelpiece she pinched a bit of Floo Powder, and threw it into the fire. Instantly, the flames rose to meet them, a shade of emerald green. Charna stepped in. "Strings and Things!" she spoke clearly. Suddenly, she found herself in a whirl of spinning fireplaces. Then, just as soon as it had started, it stopped, and Charna found herself on a cold stone hearth in a blank room.
Coughing, Charna stumbled out of the fireplace, making room for Dante's arrival. She had traveled to the right place; she was sure of it. The inside had the look and smell of a derelict building, the scents of mold strong beneath her nostrils. A few other figures lurked in the corners of the rooms, and the sounds of a festival carrying on outside were overwhelming. "Evening," said Charna casually, while the figures in the room stepped forward. "Dante is coming behind me," she decided to add for safe measure. A pale, flat face with wide scarlet eyes materialized from the shadows. To this man, Lord Voldemort, Charna inclined her head respectfully. He was flanked by Peter Pettigrew, Archibald Jugson, Alexander Avery, and Bellatrix Lestrange. Their numbers had decreased greatly after the fiasco at the Department of Mysteries the previous June. With a whirling sound and dust pouring out from the fireplace, Dante arrived, coughing slightly. Upon seeing that Charna was not alone, she also inclined her head to the Dark Lord, who stared unblinkingly at the pair of them. "Wellington … Luna …" he spoke softly, yet his voice echoed around the room. "Where are your masks?"
"My Lord, I could not put it on at Hogwarts. I need to keep my cover," Charna explained, sliding her Death Eater mask from her cloak pocket. Then, assuming her new identity of a Death Eater, she slid the mask over her face, and cast it into shadow with her hood. Behind her, Dante did the same thing. "Well, you all may have guessed the reason for our meeting at this particular place. I have not called … certain others, because you are the group that needs to prove your loyalty to me. I am going to show myself at this festival, thus sending the wizarding world into a frenzy of fear, such as has not been seen in fourteen or fifteen years. Yes, people will fear Lord Voldemort once again," he declared, his voice echoing around the deserted room. Around him, where his Death Eaters stood, there was a mutual feeling of anticipation. He paused for a moment, to allow the sounds of the festival carrying on outside to drift into the room. Shadows of people flickered across his face, as people passed by them, their forms being cast into the building through the gaps in the paneling. "A speech is to be given by Cornelius Fudge in five minutes, about wizarding unity. Doubtless he will be surrounded by Aurors, but you will take him as a hostage. Kill any others in your way. Those are your instructions."
"Success!" cried the voices of Fred and George Weasley together as they paraded down the streets of Diagon Alley. Weasley's Whiz Bangs were zooming above the heads of awed witches and wizards. Sparklers bewitched to spell things in midair floated about, as did hot pink Catherine wheels and roaring green dragons. Witches and wizards, laughing and talking all around them, made their way to the entrance of Diagon Alley, where a few abandoned shops were. A podium was already erected there, and several Hit Wizards as well as Aurors stood guard around it. "You don't think Death Eaters would be daft enough to try anything this evening, do you?" Fred whispered to his twin. George shook his head in response, and muttered something about being cautious. They, like the thousands of others crammed into the alley, carried on with their merry-making. Nobody thought anything of the Dark Lord or Death Eaters, until the Dark Lord himself and six of his Death Eaters burst through the door of an abandoned shop, just as Cornelius Fudge stepped up to make his speech.