The Worst Night of Ila's life.

Draco paced the length of his room, watching intently out of the window of his room in their family's tent. Both of his parents had left him by himself to do some 'work.' When he tried to make them elaborate, he was left with a look that told him not to push them before they hurried out of the tent. He wasn't surprised. His parents had lied to him for his entire life, so what exactly did they expect? His parents were finally going to tell him the truth?

sHe didn't need to know what was going to happen. For the entire summer, he had overheard conversations about what his father and his friends would do on this day. He was horrified every time he walked past his father's office to hear snippets of what was going to happen. What made it worse was what happened a couple of days ago. How would they even think to continue their plan when they…saw that note...and the…

Draco closed his eyes, trying to shake the image out of his head. While trying to distract himself, the image of another girl popped into his head.

Potter.

He groaned, letting his head rest in his hands. It hadn't been the first time that the Girl Who Lived somehow managed to sneak through his thoughts until the only thing he could think of was her.

It was happening far too often. A part of him hated it.

He hated seeing her face. He hated seeing her large brown eyes that managed to suck anyone in if they stared too long. He hated seeing her smile. There was always a jolt in his stomach whenever he saw it. It happened again when he saw her tonight when she was celebrating with the Weasels. When he was in the Manor, he did his best to think about anything else.

He could distract himself by reading about the Brothers of Heliopolis or figure out why the hell his parents had lied to him for the past fourteen years. Still, now that he was stuck in a tent by himself, he couldn't do anything but see Ila Potter dancing and smiling.

He needed to get out of this room.

He grabbed his wand before heading out of the tent. There were only a few safe places he could go to. He looked behind where crowds of wizards were celebrating the win of the Irish. He needed to get out of here quick. He decided the forest ahead of him was his best bet.

All the while, he was looking around to see if there were any distractions. He didn't know why he kept on thinking about Potter.

Well…Potter was a regular thought in his mind, but it was different this summer.

It must have started before the summer. He remembered being annoyed sometime during the end of third year because of her, and he couldn't get her out of his head until he stepped off the Hogwarts Express. What was wrong with him?

Maybe Blaise and Theo were right…maybe he was getting obsessed –

No, no, a Malfoy never gets obsessed with anything, let alone a girl who just so happened to be his parents' enemy.

Now that he did think about it, he did spend a lot more time than the average person thinking about her.

But does the average person have parents who blindly follow the man who killed her parents?

Theodore, and essentially the entirety of the Slytherin house. But Draco doesn't hear them constantly rant about Potter.

The only person who hated Potter as much as he did was Pansy Parkinson. How does he have more in common with Parkinson than with his own friends?

Pansy Parkinson was, for intents and purposes, the bane of his life.

He hated many things: people who were loud for no reason, hypocrites, liars, Gryffindors, but none of those things came close to making him lose his mind than Parkinson does. All the whining and moaning about…everything!

Not to mention that stupid crush she has on him. If he had a galleon for every time he's told Parkinson that he will never like her, he would probably be able to buy out an entire department in the Ministry.

Merlin, that girl can never take a hint.

It wasn't that she was ugly, though certain angles made her look like a…pug; it's just that if they were in a relationship, he would have to hear Parkinson whine about everything. Especially Potter.

If he had a galleon for every conversation he had with Parkinson about Potter, he would buy out another two departments from the Ministry.

Was it his fault? Was he egging her on?

Potentially, but how was he supposed to know that Parkinson would also have a deep – it was actually rather shallow – hatred for Potter? It wasn't like she had any actual reason as to why she hated Potter. All because of some stupid joke Theo made back in first year, about Potter having a crush on Draco and after that, Parkinson just sprinted with it.

Yes, maybe Potter could have a crush on Draco – to be honest, he wouldn't blame her. If anything, it would be weird if she didn't. There was not one girl that Draco has met that didn't have a crush on him.

It's the truth.

But it wasn't like he had a crush on her –

He heard someone laugh in the back of his head.

Not anymore, anyway. He was just stupid.

And hormonal.

Anyone that gave him attention, he was bound to start thinking about them more.

Anyway, why would Parkinson care? He wasn't ever going to like her either, so what was the point in getting worked up –

BANG!

A cacophony of screams and shouts emerged behind him, halting him in his tracks. The fires that had burnt people's tents to the floor were so large, it had light up the darkened path for him. He could hear children crying.

He didn't want to turn around. His body was too stiff. He had to move forward.

But as he took another step, another large explosion happened. The screams were echoing in his mind. The ground vibrated under him as millions of wizards thudded into the forest. Draco started walking again, away from the cries, from the screams. He wanted to do nothing more but to walk into the forest. He didn't want to stop. He wanted to be so deep into the forest that he wouldn't be able to hear anyone, see anything. He didn't want to see the horrific scenes of his father and his friends torture innocent muggles. A part of him still wanted to believe his parents were good people. That they didn't do anything wrong, they were only protecting themselves from the bloodthirsty half-bloods and muggle-borns. He didn't want to believe who his parents truly were.

He didn't want to see his future.

Draco was struggling to see the path ahead of him. He made sure to walk more slowly at this point. He sensed that the trees were beginning to get denser, and it wouldn't be long before he needed to use his wand as a source of light. That was a good thing. He was getting further away from the fires.

He took a break under a tree as he patted his pockets to find his wand. As he did, he saw a small clearing in the forest. It lead to a different part of the grounds. He thought he was getting further from them. He saw flashes of sparks aimed at anyone that got in the way of his father and his friends. The grounds were now orange; almost every tent had been set on fire. It took him a while to realise that he had found his wand and just how hard he was gripping onto it. He could feel small, crescent-shaped cuts on his palms begin to bleed.

THUMP!

Draco whipped his head to the sound. Who was that? Did his parents realise he sneaked out? Was that his father? Or maybe it was one of his friends? He didn't want to go back. He raised his wand, ready to attack.

"What happened?" a voice said, sounding like a familiar muggle-born that he knew. "Ron, where are you? Oh, this is stupid — Lumos!"

The forest illuminated. Draco saw Granger and Weasley. Weasley was sprawled out on the floor, his leg stuck under a branch, while Granger shone the light in his face. Behind her, he could see Potter step out. Then did he lower his wand. She was frightened. Her eyes were constantly moving, making sure nothing escaped from her view. Her two friends were busy arguing to hear another small bang. Ila jumped slightly.

There was a jolt in his stomach, and suddenly all those feelings he was trying hard to push down for the entire summer came rushing back to him. Draco could hear the same voice that laughed at him say, "I told you so."

"Tripped over a tree root," Ron said angrily, getting to his feet again. He brushed his trousers, and just as Ila was about to make them walk away, a voice behind a tree said -

"Well, with feet that size, hard not to."

Ila, Ron, and Hermione turned sharply. Draco Malfoy was standing alone nearby, leaning against a tree. His arms folded; he seemed to have been watching the scene at the campsite through a gap in the trees. Although he tried to seem relaxed, Ila could see a slight nervousness in him. It was the same when Ron tried to convince everyone he no longer had a fear of spiders.

Every few seconds, his eyes darted around them, trying to see if anyone would come.

"Go fuck yourself, Malfoy," Ron spat.

"Language, Weasley," Malfoy said teasingly, his pale eyes glittering. "Hadn't you better be hurrying along, now? You wouldn't like her spotted, would you?"

He nodded at Hermione. At the same moment, a blast, like a bomb, sounded from the campsite. A flash of green light momentarily lit the trees around them.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione said defiantly.

"Granger, they're after Muggles, " Malfoy explained. "D'you want to be showing off your knickers in mid-air? If you do, hang around…they're moving this way, and it would give them all a laugh."

"Hermione is a witch," Ila snarled.

"Have it your own way Potter," Malfoy said as he stepped towards her. "If you think they can't spot a m-mudblood, stay where you are."

"Watch your mouth!" Ron shouted.

"Never mind, Ron."

Hermione seized Ron's arm to restrain him as he took a step toward Malfoy. She managed to drag him away. There was another bang from the other side of the trees that was louder than the others. Several people nearby screamed.

"I s'pose Weasel's father told you a lot to hide," he said, trying his best to remain casual. His eyes yet again darted around them.

"Where're your parents then?" Ila said, her anger rising. "Out there, in those masks?"

He stared coolly at her as he remained silent. He didn't care. But the sudden twitch every time there was a scream gave his façade away.

"You know they're going to take Granger away if you don't leave now, Potter," he muttered warningly.

"Why the hell would you care?" Ila asked, stepping away from him.

"C'mon, Ila," Hermione shouted.

"Who says I do?" he replied. "I'm just telling you that if you don't leave this part of the forest, Granger, Weasel, and you are going to get a lot worse than just being hung upside down."

Malfoy's gaze flickered back to her friends before leaning back on a tree and watching through the small clearing, the destruction occurring in front of them. An army of faceless wizards marched across the campsite, burning everything in their path. Fire erupted out of their wands and onto people's tents and belongings. Some took a more physical approach and fought with some, punching and kicking until the wizards were no longer conscious. At the centre were four or five masked wizards, their wands in the air. Above them, a family of Muggles struggled to get down. The father seemed to be begging the wizards to put his wife and children down, to take it all on him. His wife was held upside down, her underwear on full display. She struggled too, but it seemed to be making it worse. The wizards lifted the woman higher every time she moved. The children held each other, terrified.

It was the first time Ila saw what exactly was happening. Of course, his father was out there. He was probably one of the wizards levitating the family.

"How could you just stand there?" Ila asked as if it wasn't the Draco Malfoy who bullied her and her friends for the same reasons his father was out there, humiliating that muggle family. She spoke to him as if they were friends, ashamed that he wouldn't stand up to his family.

He didn't say anything for a few seconds. He turned around to face her again. His face faltered for a moment when he looked at her. It was an emotion that Ila didn't know before going back to his pretentious exterior he was known for. It was then that Ila remembered who she was talking to.

He took a step forward, looking down at her. "If you think that I'll help you by appeasing to my humanity," Malfoy sneered, "you sorely mistaken…Now piss off."

"Ila!" Ron shouted.

She quickly stepped away, her eyes remaining on Malfoy's until she reached Ron and Hermione, who pulled her away. With one last look, she saw him still watching her.

"I'll bet you anything his dad is one of that masked lot!" Ron said hotly.

"Well, with any luck, the Ministry will catch him!" Hermione said fervently. "Oh, I can't believe this. Where have the others got to?"

Fred, George, and Ginny were nowhere to be seen, though the path was packed with plenty of other people, all looking nervously over their shoulders toward the commotion back at the campsite.

Ila dug in the pockets of her jacket for her own wand — but it wasn't there. The only thing she could find were her and Hermione's Omnioculars.

"Ah, no, I don't believe it…I've lost my wand!"

"You're kidding!"

Ron and Hermione raised their wands high enough to spread the narrow beams of light farther on the ground; Ila looked all around her, but her wand was nowhere to be seen. "Maybe it's back in the tent," Ron said.

"Maybe it fell out of your pocket when we were running?" Hermione suggested anxiously.

"It's not like we can back if it has," Ila moaned, still searching the ground beneath her.

"It has to be here-"

A rustling noise nearby made all three of them jump. Winky, the house-elf, was fighting her way out of a clump of bushes nearby. She was moving peculiarly; it was as though someone invisible was trying to hold her back.

"There is bad wizards about!" she squeaked distractedly as she leaned forward and laboured to keep running. "People high — high in the air! Winky is getting out of the way!"

And she disappeared into the trees on the other side of the path, panting and squeaking as she fought the force that was restraining her.

"What's up with her?" said Ron, looking curiously after Winky. "Why can't she run properly?"

"Maybe she didn't get permission to hide from Crouch," Ila said solemnly.

"You know, house-elves get a very raw deal!" said Hermione indignantly.

"Oh not this again," Ron muttered. Before they had gone to sleep, luckily for Ila, the conversation had shifted from the hypothesises of Malfoy and Ila's relationship to the horrific treatment of house-elves – something Ron wasn't a fan of.

"It's slavery, that's what it is!" Hermione carried on, "Mr Crouch made her go up to the top of the stadium, and she was terrified, and he's got her bewitched so she can't even run when they start trampling tents! Why doesn't anyone do something about it?"

"Well, the elves are happy, aren't they?" Ron said. "Most of them don't mind being paid."

"How would you know Ron?" Hermione began hotly, "they're abused and beaten into submission! Of course, they're going to say that because they're terrified-"

Another loud bang echoed from the edge of the wood.

"Let's just keep moving, shall we?" Ron said warily, and Ila saw him glance edgily at Hermione.

Perhaps there was truth in what Malfoy had said; perhaps Hermione was more dangerous than they were. They set off again, Ila still searching her pockets, even though she knew her wand wasn't there.

The further they walked, the quieter the screams were. Soon, they were in the very heart of the wood. They seemed to be alone now; they could faintly hear the chaos they escaped from. Ila looked around.

"I think we can just wait here you know. We'll hear anyone coming a mile off."

"I hope the others are okay," said Hermione after a while. "Do you think we should go back yet?"

"They're fine," Ron said reassuringly, though he didn't sound very convincing. "Besides we'll be in more danger if we go back and those people find you."

"Imagine if your dad catches Lucius Malfoy," Ila said, sitting down next to Ron and watching the small figure of Krum that Ron had bought just before the game, slouching over the fallen leaves. "He's always said he'd like to get something on him."

"That'd wipe the smirk off Draco's face, all right," Ron said.

"Those poor Muggles, though," Hermione said nervously. "What if they can't get them down?"

"They will," Ila said, patting her arm, "They'll find a way. You saw the amount of Ministry members Mr Weasley showed us."

"Those wizards must be drunk or something," Hermione said. "attacking muggles right in front of them like that. I mean, they can't think they won't get caught do they?"
"Maybe that's the point?" Ila said. "They probably want the atten - "

But she broke off abruptly and looked over her shoulder. Hermione and Ron looked quickly around too. It sounded as though someone was staggering toward their clearing. They waited, listening to the sounds of the uneven steps behind the dark trees. But the footsteps came to a sudden halt.

"Is anyone there?" Ila called out.

"Of course there is. Who else is making - "

"Shut up Ron!"

There was silence. Ila got to her feet and peered around the tree. It was too dark to see very far, but she could sense somebody standing just beyond the range of her vision.

"Who is it?" she yelled.

And then, without warning, the silence was broken by a voice, unlike anything she heard in the forest before that hissed -

"MORSMORDRE!"

Something vast, green, and glittering erupted from the patch of darkness that Ila's eyes had been struggling to penetrate; it flew up over the treetops and into the sky.

"What the — ?" Ron gasped as he sprang to his feet again, staring up at the thing that had appeared.

For a split second, Ila thought it was another leprechaun formation. Then she realized that it was a colossal skull, which looked like emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. As they watched, it rose higher and higher, blazing in a haze of greenish smoke, etched against the black sky like a new constellation. Suddenly, the forest all around them erupted with screams. Ila didn't understand why, but the only possible cause was the sudden appearance of the skull, which had now risen high enough to illuminate the entire wood like some grisly neon sign. She scanned the darkness for the person who had conjured the skull, but she couldn't see anyone.

"Who's there?" she called again.

"Ila, come on, move!" Hermione had seized the collar of her jacket and was tugging her backwards.

"What's the matter?" Ila said, startled to see Ron's face so white and terrified.

"It's the Dark Mark, Ila!" Hermione moaned, pulling her as hard as she could. "You-Know-Who's sign!"

"Voldemort's — ?"

"Ila, come on!"

Ila turned — Ron was hurriedly scooping up his miniature Krum — the three of them started across the clearing — but before they had taken a few hurried steps, a series of popping noises announced the arrival of twenty wizards, appearing from thin air, surrounding them. Ila whirled around, and in an instant, he registered one fact: Each of these wizards had his wand out, and every wand was pointing right at herself, Ron, and Hermione.

Without pausing to think, she yelled, "DUCK!"

She seized the other two and pulled them down onto the ground.

"STUPEFY !" roared twenty voices — there was a blinding series of flashes and Ila felt the hair on his head ripple as though a powerful wind had swept the clearing. Raising her head a fraction of an inch she saw jets of fiery red light flying over them from the wizards' wands, crossing one another, bouncing off tree trunks, rebounding into the darkness —

"Stop!" yelled a voice he recognized. "STOP! That's my son!"

Ila's hair stopped blowing about. She raised her head a little higher. The wizard stood above her had lowered his wand. She rolled over and saw Mr Weasley striding toward them, looking terrified.

"Ron — Ila" — his voice sounded shaky — "Hermione — are you all right?"

"I've better," Ila said, in a strained voice. It seemed that she had landed on a rather sharp rock.

"Out of the way, Arthur," a cold, curt voice said.

It was Mr. Crouch. He and the other Ministry wizards were closing in on them. Ila got to her feet to face them. Mr Crouch's face was taut with rage.

"Which of you did it?" he snapped, his sharp eyes darting between them. "Which of you conjured the Dark Mark?"

"We didn't do that!" Ila said, gesturing up at the skull. "How would we even do that?"

"We didn't do anything!" Ron said, who was rubbing his elbow and looking indignantly at his father. "Why'd you attack us for?"

"Do not lie, sir!" Mr Crouch shouted. His wand was still pointing directly at Ron, and his eyes were popping — he looked slightly mad. "You have been discovered at the scene of the crime!"

"Barty," whispered a witch in a long woollen dressing gown, "they're kids, Barty, they'd never have been able to —"

"Where did the Mark come from, you three?" Mr Weasley asked quickly.

"Over there." Hermione shakily, pointing at the place where they had heard the voice. "There was someone behind the trees…they shouted words — an incantation —"

"Oh, stood over there, did they?" Mr Crouch taunted, turning his popping eyes on Hermione now, disbelief etched all over his face. "Said an incantation, did they? You seem very well informed about how that Mark is summoned, missy —"

"I'm a muggle born Mr Crouch," Hermione said.

"Which makes everything you say even more confusing. How could a muggle-born know all of these things?" Mr Crouch rounded on her before turning around to his peers as if he was in a court of law and had caught out one of the witnesses.

But none of the Ministry wizards apart from Mr Crouch seemed to think it remotely likely that Ila, Ron, or Hermione had conjured the skull; on the contrary, at Hermione's words, they had all raised their wands again and were pointing in the direction she had indicated, squinting through the dark trees.

"Our Stunners went right through those trees… There's a good chance we got them..." Mr Diggory said.

"Amos be careful!" said a few of the wizards warningly as Mr Diggory squared his shoulders, raised his wand, marched across the clearing, and disappeared into the darkness.

"Yes! We got them! There's someone here! Unconscious! It's — but — blimey..."

"You've got someone?" Mr Crouch yelled, sounding highly disbelieving. "Who? Who is it?"

Mr Diggory reemerged from behind the trees. He was carrying a tiny, limp figure in his arms.

It was Winky.

Mr Crouch did not move or speak as Mr Diggory laid his elf on the ground at his feet. The other Ministry wizards were all staring at Mr Crouch. For a few seconds, Crouch remained transfixed, his eyes blazing in his white face as he stared down at Winky. Then he appeared to come to life again.

"This — cannot — be," he said jerkily. "No —" He moved quickly around Mr Diggory and strode off toward the place where he had found Winky.

"No point, Mr Crouch," Mr Diggory called after him. "There's no one else there."

But Mr Crouch did not seem prepared to take his word for it. They could hear him moving around and the rustling of leaves as he pushed the bushes aside, searching.

"Bit embarrassing," Mr Diggory said grimly, looking down at Winky's unconscious form. "Barty Crouch's house-elf . . . I mean to say . . ."

"Come off it, Amos," Mr Weasley said quietly, "you don't seriously think it was the elf? The Dark Mark's a wizard's sign. It requires a wand."

"Yeah, and she had a wand."

"What?" said Mr Weasley.

"Here, look."

Mr Diggory held up a wand and showed it to Mr Weasley. Ila saw the wand that looked rather familiar. She peered closer to it, only to realise that both men had seen her and she turned around. "Had it in her hand. So that's clause three of the Code of Wand Use broken, for a start. No non-human creature is permitted to carry or use a wand…If it's all right with you, Mr Crouch, I think we should hear what she's got to say for herself."

Crouch gave no sign that he had heard him, but Mr Diggory seemed to take his silence for assent. He raised his own wand, pointed it at Winky, and said, "Rennervate!" Winky stirred feebly. Her great brown eyes opened and she blinked several times in a bemused sort of way. Watched by the silent wizards, she raised herself shakily into a sitting position. She caught sight of Mr Diggory's feet, and slowly, tremulously, raised her eyes to stare up into his face; then, more slowly still, she looked up into the sky. She gave a gasp, looked wildly around the crowded clearing, and burst into terrified sobs.

"Elf!" Mr Diggory said sternly. "Do you know who I am? I'm a member of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures!"

Winky began to rock backwards and forward on the ground, her breath coming in sharp bursts.

"As you see, elf, the Dark Mark was conjured here a short while ago," Mr Diggory said. "And you were discovered moments later, right beneath it! An explanation, if you please!"

"I — I — I is not doing it, sir!" Winky gasped. "I is not knowing how, sir!"

"You were found with a wand in your hand!" Mr Diggory barked, brandishing it in front of her. And as the wand caught the green light filling the clearing from the skull above, Ila recognized it.

"Oi that's mine!" she said without realising the implications of what she said. Everyone in the clearing looked at her. Only then did she realise.

"Excuse me?"

"That's – that's my wand!" Ila said. "I-I dropped it!" The more she spoke, the bigger the hole that she dug herself was getting.

"You dropped it?" Mr Diggory repeated in disbelief. He stepped towards, completely forgetting about the elf. "Is this a confession? You threw it aside after you conjured the Mark, did you? I should have known you're kind would do this!"

"Amos, think who you're talking to!" Mr Weasley said, very angrily, stepping in between the two. "Do you really think Ila Potter of all people would conjure the Dark Mark?"

"Er — of course not...Sorry…carried away…"

Obviously.

"I didn't drop it there, anyway," Ila said, moving away from Mr Diggory and jerking her thumb toward the trees beneath the skull. "I missed it right after we got into the wood."

"So," Mr Diggory said, his eyes hardening as he turned to look at Winky again, cowering at his feet. "You found this wand, eh, elf? And you picked it up and thought you'd have some fun with it, did you?"

"I is not doing magic with it, sir!" Winky squealed, tears streaming down the sides of her squashed and bulbous nose. "I is just picking it up, sir! I is not making the Dark Mark, sir, I is not knowing how!"

"It wasn't her!" Hermione said. She looked very nervous, speaking up in front of all these Ministry wizards, yet determined all the same. "Winky's got a squeaky little voice, and the voice we heard doing the incantation was much deeper!" She looked around at Ila and Ron, appealing for their support. "It didn't sound anything like Winky, did it?"

"No," Ila said, shaking her head. "It definitely didn't sound like an elf."

"Yeah, it was a human voice," Ron added.

"Well, we'll soon see," Mr Diggory growled, looking unimpressed. "There's a simple way of discovering the last spell a wand performed, elf, did you know that?"

Winky trembled and shook her head frantically, her ears flapping, as Mr Diggory raised his own wand again and placed it tip to tip with Ila's.

"Prior Incantato!" Mr Diggory roared.

"Deletrius!" Ila heard Hermione gasp, horrified, as a gigantic serpent tongued skull erupted from the point where the two wands met, but it was a mere shadow of the green skull high above them; it looked as though it were made of thick grey smoke: the ghost of a spell. Mr Diggory shouted, and the smoky skull vanished in a wisp of smoke.

"I is not doing it!" she squealed, her eyes rolling in terror.

"You've been caught red-handed, elf !" Mr Diggory roared. "Caught with the guilty wand in your hand !"

"Amos!" Mr Weasley said loudly. "For merlin's sake, calm down and think about it before you go around accusing everything and anything . . . only handful of wizards know how to do that spell. . . . Where would she have learned it?"

"Perhaps Amos is suggesting," Mr Crouch said, cold anger in every syllable, "that I routinely teach my servants to conjure the Dark Mark?"

There was a deeply unpleasant silence. Amos Diggory looked horrified. Ila couldn't help but smile. "Mr Crouch . . . not . . . not at all . . ."

"You have now come very close to accusing the two people in this clearing who are least likely to conjure that Mark!" Mr Crouch barked. "Ila Potter and myself! I suppose you are familiar with the girl's story, Amos?"

"Of course — everyone knows —" Mr Diggory muttered, looking highly discomforted.

"Perhaps not…And I trust you remember the many proofs I have given, over a long career, that I despise and detest the Dark Arts and those who practice them? I even sent my own son to Azkaban, how are you accuse me of such horrid things!" Mr Crouch shouted, his eyes bulging again.

"Mr Crouch, I — I never suggested you had anything to do with it!" Amos Diggory muttered again, now reddening behind his scrubby brown beard.

"If you accuse my elf, you accuse me, Diggory!" Mr Crouch said. "Where else would she have learned to conjure it?"

"She - she might've picked it up anywhere —"

"Precisely, Amos," Mr Weasley said calmly. "She might have picked it up anywhere…Winky?" he said kindly, turning to the elf, but she flinched as though he too was shouting at her. "Where exactly did you find Ila's wand?"

Winky was twisting the hem of her tea towel so violently that it was fraying beneath her fingers. "I — I is finding it . . . finding it there, sir. . . ." she whispered, "there . . . in the trees, sir. . . ."

"You see, Amos? Whoever conjured the Mark could have Disapparated right after they'd done it, leaving Ila's wand behind. A clever thing to do, not using their own wand, which could have betrayed them. And Winky here had the misfortune to come across the wand moments later and pick it up.

"But then, she'd have been only a few feet away from the real culprit!" Mr Diggory said impatiently. "Elf? Did you see anyone?"

Winky began to tremble worse than ever. Her giant eyes flickered from Mr Diggory to Ludo Bagman, and onto Mr Crouch.

Then she gulped and said, "I is seeing no one, sir...no one..."

"Amos," Mr Crouch said curtly, "I am fully aware that, in the ordinary course of events, you would want to take Winky into your department for questioning. I ask you, however, to allow me to deal with her. You may rest assured that she will be punished," Mr Crouch added coldly.

"M-m-master . . ." Winky stammered, looking up at Mr Crouch, her eyes brimming with tears. "M-m-master, p-p-please . . ."

Mr Crouch stared back, his face somehow sharpened, each line upon it more deeply etched. There was no pity in his gaze.

"Winky has behaved tonight in a manner I would not have believed possible," he said slowly. "I told her to remain in the tent. I told her to stay there while I went to sort out the trouble. And I find that she disobeyed me. This means clothes. "

"No!" Winky shrieked, prostrating herself at Mr Crouch's feet. "No, master! Not clothes, not clothes!"

"I have no use for a house-elf who disobeys me," he said coldly. "I have no use for a servant who forgets what is due to her master, and her master's reputation."

Winky was crying so hard that her sobs echoed around the clearing.

There was a very nasty silence, which was ended by Mr Weasley, who said quietly, "Well, I think I'll take my lot back to the tent if nobody's got any objections. Amos, that wand's told us all it can — if Ila could have it back, please —"

Mr Diggory handed Ila her wand, snatching it out of his hands.

"Come on, you three," Mr Weasley said quietly. "What happened to the others?" he asked once they left the clearing.

"We lost them in the dark," Ron said. "Dad, why was everyone so uptight about that skull thing?"

"I'll explain everything back at the tent," Mr Weasley said tensely. He led Ila, Ron, and Hermione through the crowd and back into the campsite. All was quiet now; there was no sign of the masked wizards, though several ruined tents were still smoking. Charlie's head was poking out of the boys' tent.

"Dad, what's going on?" he called through the dark. "Fred, George, and Ginny got back okay, but the others —"

"I've got them here," Mr Weasley said, bending down and entering the tent. Ila, Ron, and Hermione entered after him. Bill was sitting at the small kitchen table, holding a bedsheet to his arm, which was bleeding profusely. Charlie had a large rip in his shirt, and Percy was sporting a bloody nose.

Fred, George, and Ginny looked unhurt, though shaken.

"Did you get them, Dad?" Bill said sharply. "The person who conjured the Mark?"

"No," Mr Weasley said. "We found Barty Crouch's elf holding Ila's wand, but we're none the wiser about who actually conjured the Mark."

"What?" Bill, Charlie, and Percy said together.

"Ila's wand?" Fred said.

"Mr Crouch's elf?".

"Well, Mr Crouch is quite right to get rid of an elf-like that!" Percy said indignantly once Ila, Ron and Hermione finished explaining what had happened in the forest. "Running away when he'd expressly told her not to...embarrassing him in front of the whole Ministry…how would that have looked, if she'd been brought up in front of the Department for the Regulation and Control —"

"She didn't do anything — she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time!" Hermione snapped at Percy, who looked very taken aback. Hermione had always got on fairly well with Percy — better, indeed, than any others.

"Look, can someone just explain what that skull thing was?" Ron said impatiently. "It wasn't hurting anyone. . . . Why's it such a big deal?"

"I told you, it's You-Know-Who's symbol, Ron," Hermione said before anyone else could answer. "I read about it in The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts."

"And it hasn't been seen for thirteen years," Mr Weasley said quietly. "Of course people panicked...it was almost like seeing You-Know-Who back again."

"I don't get it," Ron said, frowning. "I mean...it's still only a shape in the sky..."

"Ron, You-Know-Who and his followers sent the Dark Mark into the air whenever they killed. The terror it inspired...you have no idea, you're too young. Just picture coming home and finding the Dark Mark hovering over your house, and knowing what you're about to find inside..." Mr Weasley winced. "Everyone's worst fear...the very worst..."

There was silence for a moment.

Then Bill, removing the sheet from his arm to check on his cut, said, "Well, it didn't help us tonight, whoever conjured it. It scared the Death Eaters away the moment they saw it. They all Disapparated before we'd got near enough to unmask any of them. We caught the Roberts before they hit the ground, though. They're having their memories modified right now."

"Are those the wizards in masks?" Ila asked. Bill nodded.

"They're You Know Who's supporters."

"Dad, we met Draco Malfoy in the woods, and he as good as told us his dad was one of those nutters in masks! And we all know the Malfoys were right in with You-Know-Who!"

One would think that the number of times he's mentioned his father and being the guy he is, Malfoy would have boasted about it. But why would Malfoy act so weird if his father was one of those Death Eaters? Was he trying to keep it a secret?

No.

Malfoy isn't the type to keep secrets.

"But why now?" Hermione asked. "Does it mean that…You Know Who's back?"

A heavy silence fell on the group. Ila's mind floated back to her nightmare. It was just a nightmare.

But it felt too real.

She felt what he felt.

She felt his anger, his confusion, his arrogance. It was like a rope had been wrapped around her chest; someone was tightening it with every thought she had. She couldn't kid herself any longer.

"Not necessarily," Mr Weasley said. "I suppose they had a few drinks tonight and couldn't resist reminding us all that lots of them are still at large. A nice little reunion for them." Even he didn't sound very convinced at his own explanation.

"So then why would they leave when they saw the Dark Mark? Wouldn't they be happy?"

"Use your brains, Ron," Bill said. "These Death Eaters worked very hard to keep out of Azkaban when You-Know-Who lost power and told all sorts of lies about him forcing them to kill and torture people. I bet they'd be even more frightened than the rest of us to see him come back. They denied they'd ever been involved with him when he lost his powers and went back to their daily lives...I don't reckon he'd be over-pleased with them, do you?"

"So...whoever conjured the Dark Mark..." Hermione said slowly, "knew that the Death Eaters were going to be back? Were they giving the Death Eater's a warning?"

"But if that's true than surely that would mean…that…that's You Know Who's back?" Ila struggled to say the last few sentences. Her mouth was inexplicably dry. Her throat was beginning to close up. Behind her back, she crossed her fingers.

Mr Weasley sighed. He grabbed the handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Your guess is as good as ours, Ila." He smiled weakly before clapping his hands together, startling a sleepy Ginny. "Listen, it's very late, and if your mother hears what's happened she'll be worried sick. We'll get a few more hours sleep and then try and get an early Portkey out of here."

Everyone apart from Mr Weasley and his three oldest made their way back to their rooms. The only thing stopping them from being drowned in silence was the low creaks whenever someone moved in their beds. The boys muttered a good night and Ila clambered onto the top bunk, her head buzzing. She wasn't going to sleep that night. It was just a couple of days ago when her biggest worry was if the Varma's would catch her eating their ladu.

Now…

She rolled to the side of her bed. In her bedroom, posters of Kajol would have consoled her. She stared at the canvas wall. For the first time in thirteen years, Voldemort's made his mark. Those Death Eaters knew he was back. The person who conjured the mark knew he was back. Ila knew he was back.

For the first time in thirteen years, Ila was truly terrified.