Eric sat back in a weak, creaking wooden chair. He had been working tirelessly for two days on a new broomstick, not speaking or pausing, and barely sleeping. His hosts were clearly worried about him, but were reluctant to say anything. However, as he sagged downward, he felt an inward heave of satisfaction. Frona's cats started spiraling about him. He absent-mindedly started scratching their heads. His work was complete – tonight, he would try it out.
"Hey! You all done here?" The shout just about knocked him out of his chair. Turning about, he found himself facing a tall, green clad girl. Her angled face was chiseled into an expression of absolute fascination, as waves of ebon hair hung about her shoulders. Thinking for a moment, Eric realized that he knew her: Sheena Wyldehart, a sixth-year Slytherin student.
He remembered that for as long as he was in with the Slytherins, he envied her. She was never forced into doing something she disliked, and nobody crossed her. This was all for one simple reason – everyone knew she was the most powerful student in Hogwarts, superior in pure talent to at least half the staff. As if that wasn't enough to convince other students to leave her in peace, she could beat a troll senseless with her bare hands, without even bothering for a reason. Oddly enough, although it was clear that she was fairly enhanced through Dark Magic, the instructors overlooked it.
The fact was, Eric rather liked her. She wasn't unreasonably mean, she clearly preferred reading to bullying, she always gave people a chance to apologize before pulverizing them, and she despised Draco Malfoy. For a Slytherin, she wasn't half bad. The few peaceful hours he had in the Slytherin common room were thanks to her; for the one time Draco and his cronies started beating on Eric in front of her, she walked over and knocked both Crabbe and Goyle unconscious with one kick. She then scared Draco out of the room with a single shout: "Do you mind? I'm reading over here!" After that, Eric always scheduled his Common Room time for when she was there.
"Hey, are you awake?" Sheena slapped his face lightly a couple of times, which shook him out of his musings. "I asked if you were done. We've all been anxiously awaiting your latest invention."
Eric's face turned bright red when he realized that he had been staring at her, so lost in his memories that he lost track of his surroundings. "Sorry. Yes, I'm done."
A few seconds passed before a look of irritation began to grow on Sheena's face. "So? I see it's a broom; but you arrived on one, so I'm guessing there's an improvement somewhere."
"Um, yes – I mean, maybe not an improvement, but a change. You see, the broom I arrived on was built for speed an maneuverability. This one is built for stability and stealth." Taking hold of the broom, Eric drew out his small crystal ball. The broom he had build had three small protrusions in the front, looking almost like a claw. A small effort slid the crystal into the claw's fingers, at which point the entire broom took on the appearance of clear crystal. "It wouldn't really be effective up close, but it should be quite effective from a distance." As he mounted the broom and took it into a hover, his outline shimmered until he became as translucent as the broom.
"Impressive! Plan to steal a view of the World Cup that way?" Her words were mildly scolding, but there was an underlying note of approval in her tone.
"I figure if I can build myself a way to attend, I've earned it. Anyone seeing me will mistake me for a ripple in the clouds. Any muggle who could possibly see me will be far more attracted to the Quidditch Tournament, and would have to get altered memories anyway."
Eric landed behind the wagon and drew out the crystal. Sheena looked the broom over with admiration. "It's amazing that you were able to produce a flying broom in just a few days."
He shrugged. "Not really. The broom is one of Madame Frona's; I just modified it. Mine already has so many enchantments on it, one more would probably result in an explosion."
"So, you'll have the best seat in the house. What's it worth to you?"
"Excuse me?"
Sheena smiled mischievously. "You're in trouble with the Ministry. Everybody knows it. Now, I'm not one to tell tales, but as a good citizen I'm obligated to report this infraction of the law. However, I'm willing to trade this for a favor."
A chill ran down Eric's spine. "What kind of favor?"
She turned about to leave. "I'll let you know."
Looking back on it, Eric was really quite happy that no one had to buy him a ticket to see the game. The fact was, it was all over far too quickly. The festivities were nice, and the veela were a trip to watch, but none of that mattered when Viktor Krum ended the game so quickly. He thought it odd that a seeker would win the game for the opposing team. He'd have to check with Dorian – he followed Quidditch much more than Eric did – he'd have a better answer.
Taking advantage of his relative stealth, Eric rested among the clouds until twilight. He could see that it was going to be a full-moon night. He always loved full moons, for the bluish light made everything surreal, and always seemed to lay the world open to him. He could make out details of everything around him as clearly as in daylight.
Setting down behind the Romul clan, he discretely stowed the broom and pouched the crystal. Dinner was as excellent as ever, and once again the clans began an evening of music, singing and dancing. This, however, came to an abrupt halt when a loud bang shocked the camp. Looking about, they could see a mob of hooded figures coming their way, with the camp owners suspended like puppets before them.
The clans moved quickly, drawing out their wands and forming a defensive wall before their camps. Enchantments were hastily thrown up to defend the tents, wagons and fire pits from offensive spells as subtle curses formed a barrier for the oncoming mob. Those seeking to cross the barrier found themselves up to their knees in thick mud while leafy tendrils bound them tightly, rendering them immobile.
At first, all the chaos was more than overwhelming. It was all so frightening, and so terrible when wizards turn their power against their own. Then something stirred; something Eric couldn't define, but he could clearly feel. The mob before him seemed less like a threat than an insult. He had finally found a place to rest and be himself, a place where he was accepted. How dare these fools think that they could take that from him?
What began as a random thought spun into his head, gaining fervor and strength until it spun out of control. Grabbing a pole, he charged past the clans into the mob swinging, spinning about and throwing kicks when he couldn't bring the pole about fast enough. Hooded wizards darted about, fleeing as he strikes brought down one, then two, then three wizards in vicious succession. One of them tried to grab him from behind, only to find out that robes hinder such actions – and earn the one making the attempt kicks to the stomach and face in rapid succession.
Eric was terror in motion. The rage that the mob caused in him was devouring him from the inside. The only release was to give pain to someone – anyone. He was so filled with fury and pain that he couldn't stop attacking; even when he saw three wizards before him draw out their wands.