Chapter Three: Dark Mark

Dumbledore was riding in a carriage high above the clouds when he spotted green smoke in the air. He stopped the carriage and coughed. "Flitwick, do you think something awful has happened? Look through the clouds, you'll see smoke. It's green, and it's coming from the place where Ron Weasley lives."

Flitwick, who'd been busy reading a book when he was rudely interupted, said at once," Yes, of course something is wrong. Let's go and investigate."

"Yes." Dumbledore nodded.

"Bring her down," Flitwick said commandingly, while Dumbledore used a whip to manouver the carriage pulled by invisible Thestrals down to the ground. "I can never understand why you like to use these beasties, Dumbledore. How are you supposed to control them?"

Dumbledore opened a door.

Flitwick jumped out, and gasped in horror.

"I don't think you want to look in the direction of the house, Dumbledore, you might be shocked at what you see," he said.

"I don't think so, I know what that girl is capable of," Dumbledore said calmly, and then looked at Flitwick who looked awfully pale and shocked.

He looked at the Dark Mark above the house.

"Who do you think's dead?" Flitwick muttered in a tiny voice.

"I don't know," Dumbledore said truthfully. "We won't find out until we get inside. That is, if you'll come with me? I'd rather not find out on my own."

"I'll come." Flitwick nodded meekly.

He watched Dumbledore pat thin air for a few seconds, praising the Thestrals, and then they walked down the path together. Towards the house.

Dumbedore pressed on a panel of wood and the front door swung open. There, lying on the floor, motionless, was Ginny's father Mr Weasley. He had not been stabbed or shot, as far as Dumbledore and Flitwick could see, but killed by one of the three Unforgivable Curses.

"Who could've done this?" Flitwick hissed in Dumbledore's ear.

"I told you before, perhaps you did not pick up my clue," Dumledore said. "I said 'I don't think so, I know what that girl is capable of' and still you don't know who it is?"

Flitwick was confused. "No. I don't know."

"Well, think," Dumbledore hissed, while conjuring up a magical hospital stretcher and telephone. "Think about who could have done this and I'll ring St Mungo's and inform them that they have a serious case to attend to. They've had Arthur in before, they will know what to do."

Flitwick knelt down and felt Arthur's body. "He's stone cold, Dumbledore. His lips are blue. Do you seriously think they'd be able to bring him back to life?"

"No." Dumbledore's face fell.

Fliwick smiled weakly. "The best thing to do would be to give Arthur a decent funeral, Dumbledore, and make sure everyone who knew him attends."

"He'd like that," Dumledore said.

"Yes, I know. That's why you should arrange it for him," Flitwick said. He looked at Arthur's body. "What are we going to do with him in the meantime?"

Dumbledore heard someone cough, but ignored it. "I think we should try and get him into our carriage, see if the Thestrals will pull with the extra weight."

Flitwick blinked back tears. "Doubt it, but all we can do is try. I don't want to touch him, Dumbledore, if that's okay. Can we just levitate him?" He wondered if Arthur had seen his attacker. Which Weasley had done it? Dumbledore had said it was a girl so it couldn't have been Ron.

But why, why would Ron want to hurt his father?

If it was Ron. Dumbledore could be wrong. Dumbledore was often wrong. It could have been a boy. It might not even have been a member of the Weasley family, either. It could have been Lord Voldemort. The most shocking revelation Flitwick thought and experienced, as he helped to leviatate Arthur out of the house and down the lane, was that it could have been anyone that could have killed him.

Anyone.