Which of you conjured the Dark Mark?

Chapter 2: Molly Weasley

She'd thought, it'll make a lovely change, not having to cook - Arthur and the kids won't be back from the World Cup until after lunch tomorrow, they'll be up to all hours tonight ... they'll sleep in for hours in the morning, and then they'll probably Portkey back with the Lovegoods. Thank Merlin Ludo Bagman arranged free tickets for us, if we'd had to buy tickets I don't know how we would have managed – and you have to arrive two weeks beforehand if you've got the cheapest tickets. The Lovegoods have been there for a week, but they don't mind, Luna said they were going to look for - what was it? Not Snorkacks, they're only found in Sweden ... what an imagination that child has! I worry about her sometimes, the poor motherless mite, and it's awful that she had to see her mother die, Merlin knows what effect that's had on her - at least Harry was only a baby when his parents were killed, he won't remember a thing about it. Luna is ... different ... but she's a clever little thing and sometimes I think she understands much more than she lets on, it was no surprise when she was Sorted into Ravenclaw.

Free tickets to the World Cup, and it's the first time that it's been held in Britain for thirty years! Ludo could only wangle ten, but I don't mind not going, I can listen to the broadcast of the match on the Wizarding Wireless Network. And it's a bit of a break for me, really – it's been bedlam with eleven people in the house! Free tickets – and in the Top Box, too, and all those boys are Quidditch mad, well, maybe not Percy so much ... and it will be a real experience for Hermione, too, to see a crowd of a hundred thousand wizards from all over the world. It's amazing how clever that girl is, sometimes I think she knows more about the wizarding world than Ron even if she is Muggle-born, I've certainly never seen him with a copy of Hogwarts: A History in his hands!

And then she'd thought, Hermione is such a good influence on Ron and now that Percy has left Hogwarts and won't be able to keep an eye on him, I worry about the example set by Fred and George ... they didn't even want to be prefects, and their OWLs were atrocious. They passed Transfiguration and Potions, and that's because only Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape can keep them under control – it was very sweet of Professor Flitwick to write me a note to say that their results in Charms don't reflect their abilities, but I would have preferred them to pass the examination! And if their NEWTs aren't a lot better, how are they going to get jobs when they finish school?

She'd brooded for a minute over her last words to the twins – behave yourselves – fat chance of that! And Arthur lets them get away with far too much ... like that wretched flying car! If the twins hadn't taken that car to fetch Harry away from his Muggle relatives, Harry and Ron would never have thought of flying it to Hogwarts.

But when she'd remembered what George had said, they were starving him, Mum! she couldn't help softening towards them. They're not bad boys, really, and they've got brains – they just don't apply themselves. Not like Percy, Head Boy at Hogwarts - and now he's personal assistant to Barty Crouch! The twins might laugh about Percy's report on cauldron bottoms, but Percy has a bright future in front of him ...

And then she'd thought, loyally, not that Arthur couldn't have had a great career in the Ministry, he's just not ambitious. And I hope he doesn't fight with Lucius Malfoy again tonight, the Malfoys are bound to have tickets to the Top Box ... though, to tell the truth, I'd punch that man myself if I got the chance, after what he did to Ginny - Dumbledore says it was Lucius Malfoy who slipped that nasty enchanted thing into her cauldron! At least he was sacked from the Board of Governors, not that Cornelius Fudge seems to care, all that man thinks about is balancing the Ministry budget - and the Malfoys give donations for this, and donations for that, they've got Fudge eating out of their hand.

She can remember Lucius Malfoy from school, she'd been a sixth year prefect when he was Sorted into Slytherin, the Sorting Hat had barely touched his head before it shouted Slytherin! And he'd been a horrid little beast even then, full of pure-blood prejudice, sneering at Muggle-borns and half-bloods ... she'd deducted House points, once, for using the word "Mudblood". Oh, he'd swaggered about the school, boasting about his money and his Manor, and gathering a nasty little clique about him, Bellatrix Black and Rodolphus Lestrange and some others ... most of whom are in Azkaban now.

Lucius had married Bellatrix' younger sister, Narcissa - Arthur is related to the Blacks but of course he hadn't been invited to the wedding, and they wouldn't have gone even if they had been invited – there'd been pages of colour photographs in Witch Weekly, it had been the society event of the year. She couldn't help noticing the photographs of beautiful blonde Narcissa Black, looking radiantly happy on the arm of her handsome groom, as she flicked through the magazine looking for hints on how to get three family meals out of a single chicken ... or reading the article, either. She'd wondered, a little spitefully, if Narcissa would still have that lovely slender figure by the time she'd provided Abraxas Malfoy with the anticipated "Quidditch team of grandsons to carry on the Malfoy name" - but it had been a long time before there'd been a notice in the Daily Prophet announcing the birth of a child to the Malfoys ... and then there'd been a catty little piece about it by Rita Skeeter in Witch Weekly, suggesting that before the baby was born, the Malfoys had been on the brink of divorce due to Narcissa's inability to produce a son and heir.

She'd recognised Narcissa Malfoy at once, that morning in St Mungo's – it was her last pre-natal appointment before Ginny was born, and she'd had to drag all the kids into St Mungo's with her, she just couldn't find anyone to mind them that day. Narcissa had been standing there, all alone, while her husband made himself obnoxious to the witch on the Enquiries desk, and it had been easy enough to see that the haughty, elegant young woman clutching the squalling baby was just another frightened first-time mum, so she'd tried to say something reassuring and she'd put her foot right into it, she'd said, Is the little boy your first? Teething, I expect, you'll find it a lot easier with your second ... And remembering the look on Narcissa's face when she'd said those words, she'd thought, no, I don't envy Narcissa Malfoy her house-elves and her jewellery and her dozens of sets of dress robes – or her Death Eater husband. Lucius Malfoy was cleared of all charges by a full hearing of the Wizengamot on the grounds of bewitchment under the Imperius Curse, but Arthur doesn't believe it, and neither do I!

And then she'd realised that time was getting on, so she'd made a scratch tea for herself, fed Hermione's orange monster of a cat, turned the wireless on, and settled down with her knitting to listen to the match, a excited stream of the players' names and Quidditch phrases ... Wronski Feint, Hawkshead attacking formation, Porskoff Ploy ... until it was over, until Ludo Bagman shouted IRELAND WIN ... KRUM GETS THE SNITCH BUT IRELAND WIN!

She'd turned off the wireless, put some owl treats out on the kitchen table for the newspaper delivery owl - because she'd planned to have a nice bit of a lie-in the next morning - and gone upstairs to bed, but she'd lain awake for a while, because usually Arthur is by her side, and it feels odd to have the bed to herself. It had started to rain a little, and she'd drowsily wondered if Arthur and the kids are alright, but of course they'll be OK, old Perkins' tent might smell of cats but it's perfectly weather proof ...

But her dreams of lying in bed until at least ten o'clock had been rudely shattered by Crookshanks, who'd trotted into the bedroom and proudly presented her with a live, wriggling, squealing gnome just before dawn. So she'd got up, thrown cat and gnome into the yard, made a pot of tea and some toast, and now she's sitting at the kitchen table in her dressing gown, yawning, and unfolding the Daily Prophet, thinking, there'll be ten pages about the match – and umpteen advertisements for expensive brooms, I know how much Ron wants a new broom, but we just can't afford it.

But when she sees the front page, when she sees the twinkling, black and white photograph of the Dark Mark over the tree-tops, the teacup slips out of her hand and shatters on the floor – and all she can think is, he's back, he's come back, You Know Who is back, that's his Mark – the Morsmordre!

And it had all come flooding back, the constant fear, because although Arthur wasn't an Auror, although he wasn't in the Order of the Phoenix, they'd still been blood traitors, and that was enough, that was enough reason for You Know Who to send his Death Eaters to kill them, to kill the whole family ... he'd sent five Death Eaters to kill her brothers ...

She reads the headline ...

SCENES OF TERROR AT THE WORLD CUP

by Rita Skeeter

She skims through the first few paragraphs of the article ... phrases jump out at her, but she's too agitated to make much sense of them.

Ministry blunders ...culprits not apprehended ... lax security ... Dark wizards running unchecked ... national disgrace ...

She thinks, this is how it started last time, Muggle-baiting, people didn't take it too seriously at first, after all, Muggles don't really count ... and then they got bolder, they started to kill Muggle-borns, and then it was war, Bill and Charlie will remember what it was like, even Percy must remember something, but the twins and Ron and Ginny are too young ... and it wasn't just killing, it was worse things but the Ministry didn't allow the Daily Prophet to print the details ...

She forces herself to calm down, to read the article carefully ... and it's not as bad as she feared, the Death Eaters Disapparated as soon as the Dark Mark was cast, and surely they wouldn't have done that if their master had returned, they would have stayed and fought the Aurors.

And then she thinks – Sirius Black! He's quite insane, it must have been him! Yes, Black must have been at the World Cup, it's the kind of thing a madman would do, and when he saw his old friends tormenting those poor Muggles, he cast the Dark Mark. And he's the Auror Corps number one priority at the moment, they must catch up with him soon, Kingsley Shacklebolt is leading the team hunting for Black, and he's a very capable wizard.

She tells herself, there's nothing to be worried about, really, and maybe the Death Eaters who managed to keep out of Azkaban are even more frightened of Sirius Black than we are, he might want revenge for their disloyalty, he might want revenge for twelve years in Azkaban ...

She feels a little calmer, starts to pour another cup of tea, and reads on further ...

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 rumours that several bodies were removed from the woods an hour later, remains to be seen ...

The teapot wobbles in her hand, tea spills over the table ... bodies! The Ministry have removed several bodies!

Visions of dead Weasleys flood through her mind, Arthur sprawled on the ground, his glasses askew, a trickle of blood running down his face ... Bill, spread-eagled on his back, his eyes wide open and empty ... dead Charlie, dead Percy, dead twins, dead Ron, dead Ginny ... but perhaps it's Hermione, she's Muggle-born, they'd kill her if they could – or Harry, he's the Boy Who Lived, any Death Eater would jump at the chance to kill Harry!

And she thinks, no, the Ministry would be here by now if it was one of the family ... and I haven't heard anything, I haven't got an owl, no one's Flooed – they must be safe! And she repeats to herself like a mantra, no news is good news, no news is good news, no news is good news ...