Better find a new place

To lay on the ground

Can't stay where you are

Or you're gonna be found

The sound of loud music and cheers of delight carried on in the background as Hermione sleepily watched her friends celebrate with a blissful smile on her face. She was drowsy from their long day, and her eyelids dropped as she watched Harry, Ron, Ginny, and the twins jump and sing with glee. The World Cup went by much quicker than she expected but she was okay with that. When she read about the Chad versus Liechtenstein match lasting three days, she hadn't known if she could handle that much quidditch time. Sure, the whole event was exhilarating and caused her pulse to race from the thrill, but when the players dove too low or dodged flying bludgers, knots formed in her stomach and she found herself holding her breath in fear. Still, nothing the professional quidditch players did rivaled the frights that Harry had given her so far throughout his quidditch career. Sometimes Hermione swore that if he didn't keep that messy mop-head of his out of trouble, she was just going to off him herself; it would certainly save her the stress of wondering just when he would finally manage to get himself killed. She laughed slightly as Ronald chased after George who had stolen his Viktor Krum action figure and was tossing it easily back and forth with Fred.

Fred and George.

They could be right awful when they wanted to be. They had been a constant source of torment since her first day at Hogwarts. At first it was the standard hazing that one would get as a first year. However, as her bookish tendencies became quite clear to the whole school, the teasing, and the pranks became much more personal. Sure, all of it was good natured at its core. She didn't believe for one second that Fred and George teased and pranked people because they wanted to hurt them – unlike Draco Malfoy and the rest of his Slytherin goons. No, their main inspiration was almost always to get some sort of reaction, and of course, a laugh. Thinking back to the past three years, Hermione couldn't count the number of times she'd sat down in the Gryffindor common room and made it halfway through an essay before she realized that her ink had been replaced with disappearing ink. But after a mild break down, the twins always reversed the effects. Then there were the times that she'd sit in the Great Hall, holding onto the book in her hand with all her strength, fighting against the summoning charm one of them had placed on it. It often resulting in many elbows in many bowls of porridge. These occurrences always brought annoyance that crackled to the ends of her curls. She often lectured and scolded them in decrees on how to treat and not treat others. However, despite her best efforts, she never got very far with them.

But things were different now; she was different. Hermione felt older, more confident even, and ultimately less patient.

A loud bang, like a firework going off, sounded from outside, and more yells and cries followed. Mr. Weasley walked over to the entrance of the tent to peer outside.

"Sounds like the Irish have got their pride on," George joked as he tossed the little Krum doll over Ron's head. Ron lunged for it, managing to catch it the exact moment that Fred did. The two grappled separate ends of the Bulgarian toy, Ron whinging about how it was his, when Mr. Weasley came walking briskly back into the tent. He grabbed the toy from them both and shoved it into Ron's chest.

"Stop it! Stop it!" he yelled. At his tone, everyone froze. Mr. Weasley was a well-mannered man. Rarely did he yell, and rarely did he look as worried as he did in that moment. "It's not the Irish. We've got to get out of here."

Hermione stood, all traces of fatigue and weariness washed away as she began to really listen to the sounds outside of the tent. What she had previously mistaken for exclamations of joy, now sounded more like frightened and panicked cries. Grabbing her wand from the pocket of her discarded jumper, she followed Mr. Weasley and the rest out of the tent. The grounds were chaos. People were running in all directions, some empty handed and others holding onto loved ones or possessions. She could see tents trampled and ablaze as smoke, which had already reached them, floated through the air, creating a hazy atmosphere in the darkness. Far off into the distance, she saw objects floating in the air. Squinting, she realized they weren't objects at all, but Mr. Roberts, the muggle campground manager, and his family. Their limbs flailed as they jerked side to side in midair, their screams causing every hair on Hermione's body to stand straight up. She looked down to the ground to see what was levitating them and her eyes were met with several hooded figures in black robes. Their faces were unrecognizable, contorted in a manner she was unfamiliar with.

"Everyone! Get to the forest and hide! Fred, George, you're the oldest. Make sure everyone gets there safely!" Mr. Weasley barked before heading towards the hooded assailants and floating muggles, his wand at the ready.

Hermione darted towards the forest as fast as she could, but the distance was surprisingly longer than she remembered from earlier that day. She pushed through the crowd of people, her legs on fire and chest burning as she continued in the direction of the trees. Keeping her eyes trained on the three ginger heads in front of her, she ran and ran. Soon they were close to the forest edge and Hermione could have cried with relief. The only thing that lay ahead of them was a hill and then they would be under the safety of the trees. Unfortunately, that was when she heard Ron's startled cry from behind her.

"Where's Harry?!"

At this exclamation, Hermione stopped and turned. Harry was nowhere in sight. Her heart sank.

"He was right behind us!" she yelled back. Why is it always Harry?she asked herself.

"We have to go back!" Ron turned, disappearing once again into the cluster of tents. Hermione made to run after him, but before she could take a step, a hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her back.

"Look out!"

A blast of green light shot through the air where she had been. She gaped at the empty space for a fraction of a second before turning to look up at the person that had pulled her out of the way. Fred stood next to her, his eyes wide and terrified as she looked past her. Following his gaze, she saw the source of the spell – a person striding towards them large and menacingly. Judging by the size, she could only assume it was a man, as he cut a great and intimidating figure even from a distance. The wizard raised his wand to send another spell shooting towards the pair, but Hermione and Fred were too quick. Hermione raised her wand and blocked his spell as Fred sent a stunning spell in the man's direction. Turning, they sprinted up the hill towards the forest. Fueled by adrenaline, they fired all the defensive spells they knew as they ran. Neither bothered to even look, they just hoped it would be enough to deter their attacker. When they reached the cover of the forest, they ceased fire, but they didn't let up their pace. Hermione ran until her legs ached and her chest burned and then she ran more. Foot in front of foot, breath after breath. She could feel herself becoming lightheaded and her sides were beginning to cramp. Thinking on her feet, she serpentined through the trees, hoping that they would act as natural shields from any unfriendly spells as her pace began to falter.

Soon the trees and understory thickened, slowing them down but giving Hermione hope that it was doing the same to the wizard chasing them. As she pushed herself through a cluster of large bushes that snagged at her clothes and scraped at her face, she felt Fred's hand on her wrist, pulling her forward and behind a large alcove of fallen trees on the other side. They sank down into the earth, pushing themselves as far into the small cave-like space the trees had made. Hermione could feel the bark scratching through her t-shirt and a large knot sticking into her spine as she lay under the logs, wishing that she could just dissolve into the wood and soil and make herself invisible. Fred was pressed in close to her, his breath falling hot and quick on her neck. Hermione tried her best to keep her breathing even; in through her nose and out through her mouth, but it was difficult. She froze when she heard footsteps approach quickly and then slow as they grew nearer. A twig snapped nearby, and she covered her mouth as an involuntary gasp escaped her lips. It was the wizard from before, she could feel it. He was going to find them. He was going to find them and then he was going to find Harry and Ron. She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream, she wanted to be anywhere but there, in that forest. Hermione and Fred stared at each other as they held their breaths, lying on the cold ground, waiting. Waiting for something, anything to happen.

After what felt like hours, the dark wizard gave up his pursuit. His footsteps started again, this time fading away in the opposite direction. They stayed like that, unmoving and gazing into each other's eyes for quite some time, afraid that they were not yet alone. The browns, greens, and ambers of Fred's hazel eyes seemed to swirl together, and after some time Hermione's vision began to blur. She didn't even realize that she hadn't been blinking. Slowly she let her eyelids fall, closing her eyes and letting out a small breath. It was then that the tall ginger exhaled in relief and leaned his head forward, his forehead resting against hers. Hermione breathed deep and felt awash in euphoria at the thought that they had not been found.

"You saved my life Granger," Fred stated in a hushed tone, his voice laced with disbelief.

"You saved mine as well. So, don't go swooning quite yet," Hermione quipped back, fighting a small smirk on her lips at her own joke. Fred pulled back, looking at her with a bewildered expression, similar to the one he had given her in the hallway that morning, before pushing himself back and out from under the fallen trees with a light snort.

"Who do you suppose those guys were?" he asked, running a hand through his shaggy hair.

"I have an idea, I just hope I'm wrong," Hermione responded heavily as she followed him out of their hiding spot. "Come on then." She stood up and began to move towards the direction in which they had come.

"What do you mean, 'come on then'? Are you completely mental?" Fred yelled after her. Hermione knew his reaction was reasonable. Every fiber of her being told her to stay and wait. Wait till it was safe and Mr. Weasley came back to get them. But harry was out there, Ron was too. Who knew what kind of trouble they were in. If something happened to them, well Hermione wouldn't be able to live with herself. Worried that Fred would try and stop her, she chose her words carefully.

"Come on Frederick, where's your Gryffindor courage?" she questioned him dangerously, looking over her shoulder at the boy. She raised an eyebrow, as if daring him to come with her and was pleased when she saw an insulted but challenging expression on his face.

"Good, let's just hope we find Ron and Harry first."

A chill ran down her spine at the thought of one of the cloaked wizards or witches getting their hands on her two best friends. Sure, Harry was a fairly gifted wizard, but Hermione wasn't quite sure how much of that was actual talent, and how much was pure luck. He had power, the strength of his patronus last year against the dementors was proof enough, but that didn't mean he knew enough spells or had enough experience to protect himself against a group of fully grown wizards. He was only fourteen. Ron, on the other hand was almost completely useless. While he did make up for his lack of knowledge in heart and loyalty, there was still no way she was going to leave him to defend himself, let alone the Boy Who Lived. Then again, what did she know about dueling and defending? There had been the dueling club second year, and of course escaping a werewolf last year, but she had no real experience in fighting off dark wizards and witches firsthand. Unless the quick and messy incident not one hour ago counted.

The stitch that had formed in her side earlier still ached as she jogged at a steady pace through the forest, her wand gripped tightly in her hand. She focused on the sound of Fred's feet, in step with hers, crunching the fallen leaves and twigs of the understory. They slowed as they approached the edge of the forest. Walking quietly and with careful placement of her feet, she scanned her surroundings and strained her ears, searching for signs of anyone nearby.

"I think the coast is clear," Fred whispered behind her, but Hermione thought differently. Voices in the distance sounded faintly through the air. She put a hand up, ordering Fred to stay silent. Ever so slightly she peaked around a tree right on the line of the forest and swept her gaze across the empty campground. What had once been a vibrant and joyful field of tents and laughter, now looked like the remnant of a war zone. Tents were trampled, singed, and dirty. All the fires had been put out, but smoke still hung in the air like a heavy curtain. Belongings were strewn across the ground and it was quiet. So quiet. Except for two small but distinct voices. Hermione's heart leapt and then soared when she saw the black and ginger hair of two boys walking up the hill. It was them. They were safe. She bolted from behind the tree towards the pair, giving no thought to the Weasley yelling after her.

"Ron! Harry! Are you alright?!" she asked worriedly as she sprinted towards them and pulled them into a tight hug. She squeezed them with all of her strength, never feeling so happy to see them alive and in one piece.

"We're fine 'Mione. We're fine," Ron responded through a strained voice. Hearing the slight annoyance in his tone, Hermione pulled back and proceeded to wallop the arrogant git.

"Ronald Weasley! Don't. You. Ever. Run. Off. Like. That. Without. Me. Again!" She punctuated each word with a hit to somewhere on his person as he shielded himself behind raised arms.

"Ow! Hermione! Stop! Stop!" Ron yelled. At his plea, but feeling much better, she stopped.

"You could have died Ron and you just left me!"

"Well I didn't die, and I didn't leave you! You had Fred! Besides, Harry needed me!" he argued back.

"And you! –" She turned her attention back to Harry now, who looked disappointed that he hadn't escaped her wrath "—Where were you? What happened?"

"Someone knocked me over and I lost my glasses, I couldn't very well run when I couldn't see, Hermione," Harry responded flatly. His reason was probably the best reason he could have had, and Hermione shuffled her feet, feeling a bit foolish.

"I don't mean to interrupt this oddly violent reunion but does anyone else see that?" Fred pointed adjacent to the forest from which they had just left where a green jet of light was shooting through the sky. Hermione gaped with enrapt horror as the shape of a skull appeared high above them. Slowly, a serpent slithered menacingly out of the mouth and Hermione knew that she had been right. She knew exactly who the attackers had been that night, and she knew exactly what that symbol represented.

From behind her, she heard Harry cry out in pain. She turned her head in alarm to find Harry lying on the ground, clutching at his scar. Ron and Fred were at his side, looks of concern directed at him and then at her. Hermione looked back up at the smoky green image once more before moving towards Harry, taking his hand in hers.

"It's alright Harry, it's alright," she reassured him as he groaned through his teeth.

"What is that thing?!" Harry questioned her, still clutching his head, but starting to calm down.

"Harry, that's the Dark mark. It's his mark," Hermione informed him, taken aback that he had no idea.

"So those men tonight, the ones in the masks?" Harry pushed himself up to a standing position. Hermione followed him, her hand at his elbow, ready to help if need be.

"Death Eaters," Fred spoke up, his voice filled with hate and disbelief. Hermione cringed at the word. It was the one word she had been avoiding all night, even in her own mind. From the moment she saw the distorted faces of the group from afar, attacking those innocent muggles, she knew. She didn't want to admit it to herself, but she knew.

"They're what then? His followers?" Harry asked, and Hermione could hear the anger bubbling up behind his words.

They nodded.

Ron stepped forward and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. The weight of Fred's hand on her shoulder too, made Hermione turn in surprise. Looking to her left, Fred tightened his grip, and he gave her a solemn but reassuring look.

"We should get back to the forest, try and find Ginny and George," Fred commented.

They nodded again.

As they made their way back up the hill towards the forest, it took all of Hermione's strength not to look back up into the deep cavernous eyes of the skull as the snake slithered around it, flicking its tongue out menacingly. A shiver of relief ran down her spine once they were finally under the protection of the trees. The soft brush of fabric brought her attention up from the ground. Fred had divested himself of his cardigan and placed it over her. She uncrossed her arms and slipped them into the long sleeves, pulling them up so that she could readily use her wand—light now emanating from the end as the sky had grown dark around them. They had only been walking for a few minutes when the sound of whispers came from up ahead. Hermione's heart clenched again at the possibility of who it could be. However, her fears were quickly squashed as they came upon the small figure of a house elf a few moments later.

"Winky?" Hermione was surprised to see the personal house elf of ministry official Bartemius Crouch all alone in the middle of the woods. The small elf gave a start at her name and turned towards them with wide, fright filled eyes.

"Winky, are you alright?" Hermione asked, moving forward to crouch in front of the poor creature. She was shivering and holding back whimpers as she looked back at Hermione.

"Winky is sorry. Winky was supposed to stay in the tent but Winky was so scared!" the house elf exclaimed, fighting back tears of guilt. Hermione's heart broke slightly at the state of Winky in front of her. She had last seen Winky during the match. The poor house elf had been scared then too, but instead it had been because her master, Bartemius Crouch, had forced her to save his seat all the way at the top of the stadium when she was deathly afraid of heights. The poor thing had covered her eyes the entire time, but she had not moved. Instead she stayed rooted to the spot through the whole event like a loyal house elf, only for Mr. Crouch to never even show up. The interaction had left a sour taste in her mouth and now, this only worsened the taste.

"It's alright Winky. Why don't you stay with us until we can find your…master," she hesitated to say the words. They felt foreign in her mouth. However, Winky did not answer, instead she cried softly into her pale, long-fingered palms. Hermione looked up at the three boys around her for help, but she heard a twig snap not far away and her senses went on high alert.

"Get down!" she cried, diving forward onto the three boys.

"STUPEFY!" multiple voices bellowed the spell as she, Harry, Fred, and Ron hit the ground.

"Stop! Stop! Those are my sons! Those are my sons!" Fred heard the familiar sound of his father's voice and looked up to see the middle-aged man running towards them. His father reached his side, helping him stand. Once on his feet, Fred brushed his father off, reassuring him that he was fine. Glancing down at the forest floor, he saw the other three sitting up looking shaken but altogether unscathed. His eyes then traveled to the small, still body of Winky the house elf lying limp on the hard ground. She had not ducked when Granger warned them and as a result the small little creature took the brunt of the stunning spells. Looking over to Granger, he noticed she too was staring at Winky. He reached down and grabbed her elbow gently, helping her to stand. She swayed a bit, stumbling before finding her footing. Even once Fred was confident Granger could stand on her own, he did not let go of her. Instead, he felt a strange sense of protectiveness and wrapped arm around her shoulders instead. A few tears fell down her cheek.

"Is she alright?" Granger mumbled. Fred was confused by her question until he realized she was still looking at Winky.

"Yeah, Granger. She's alright. Just stunned. House elves are tougher than they look. Trust me." He rubbed her back lightly and looked over to see Ron and Harry staring at him with confused expressions. Fred shrugged at them as if to say, 'What about it?'. Sure, he wasn't the most sensitive person, but he also wasn't heartless, and she was crying. What else was he supposed to do?

"Which of you did it?! Which of you conjured it?!" the accusing voice of Barty Crouch, head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, turned his attention to the smarmy wizard, with his black bowler hat and smart robes. Surrounding them were several wizards and witches, who he could only assume were ministry workers. Some of them he noticed, like Barty Crouch, Ludo Bagman, Amos Diggory, and his father of course. They had all long since lowered their wands once they realized who they were but Barty's expression was manic as he held his wand high. Instinctively Fred held Granger tighter and shifted himself between her and the older wizard.

"Barty, they're just kids," his father spoke up, shifting in front of Ron and Harry, and looking at his fellow Ministry worker in bewilderment.

"Well if they didn't conjure it, then who did, Arthur?" Barty turned his attention to Arthur now.

"Sir, there's a house elf over here!" a voice called from behind them where Winky lay. Fred turned to see a stout ministry witch with curly blonde hair reviving Winky. Slowly Winky opened her eyes and blinked. Granger let out a ragged breath and Fred pulled her closer into his side. When the little elf was fully conscious, she stood shakily and looked up at her master reliantly. Barty Crouch stared down at her; his face fell into a morose expression.

"Master!" Winky ran to her master and threw herself as his feet, "Winky is so sorry sir. Winky knows she was supposed to stay in the tent, but she was so scared!" Crouch continued to stare at his house elf in sullen disbelief. The stout witch that had discovered Winky made her way over to Crouch's side and held out a wand.

"She had this."

"Hey! That's my wand!" exclaimed Harry, stepping forward to seize his wand from Barty Crouch, only to be pushed away.

"What was she doing with your wand mate?" Ron asked, turning to look at Harry.

"I don't know…I honestly don't remember the last time I had it," Harry scratched the back of his head.

"Harry! That's incredibly irresponsible," Granger scolded. Fred was glad to hear her perk up, even if it were to chastise.

Winky's groveling continued to rise in volume as she sobbed at her master's feet. "Stop it. Stop it! Get up!" Bartemius Crouch barked, kicking Winky off of his shoes.

"What were you doing with this?!" Harry's wand was clenched in his fist as he shook it in Winky's face.

"Wi-Winky found it sir—" Winky blew her nose on her dirty rag clothing "—It was laying on the ground. Right over there, sir." She pointed a few meters further into the forest.

"Did you cast that spell?!" Crouch pointed angrily up into the sky and while they couldn't see the swirling green skull and snake from where they were, they were all still very aware of its presence.

"N-no sir!" Winky cried, dropping to her knees, and leaning forward until her face was buried into the dirt and twigs. "Never sir! Winky w-would never!"

"Barty, there's really only one way to know—" Amos Diggory spoke up and he approached Crouch with his hand extended "—May I?"

Barty Crouch took a deep breath and stood straight, looking around at them all before turning to Amos and nodding. They all watched with bated breath as Amos placed the tip of his wand to Harry's and solemnly spoke.

"Prior Incantato."

Everyone gasped. A vivid green smoke swirled from the end of Harry's wand and all eyes were back on Winky as she let out a bone chilling sob. Crouch's expression had turned to stone "Dawlish, Williamson, please escort Winky off of the ground."

Fred was taken aback at Crouch's response. There was no way that Winky was responsible for producing You-Know-Who's mark. It didn't make any sense. And what was Crouch planning to do with her? Send her to Azkaban? They didn't even know if she was the one that cast the spell! Apparently, Granger had the same idea, because she stepped out of his grasp and towards Bartemius Crouch with the courage of a lion.

"Wait—" she cried out, coming up short when all eyes turned to her in an instant "—just because the wand produced the spell doesn't mean that Winky was the one to cast it. You have no way of proving it and if what Winky says is true and she did find it then that means anyone could have used Harry's wand to cast the spell!"

"Yes, Hermione, but we have no wa—"Arthur began but was cut off by Granger as she seemed to swell with confidence.

"But we do Mr. Weasley! –" she turned to Crouch "—Mr. Crouch, Winky is your house elf. If you order her to tell you the truth, she will!"

Fred was impressed but not surprised that Granger had found a way to save the house elf. He let out a breath of relief when Crouch listened to her and looked back to Winky who had not lifted her head from the ground since she last spoke.

"Winky—" the house elf lifted her head at the sound of her master's voice and looked up at him with big watery eyes "—I order you to tell me the truth. Did you use this wand to cast any spells?"

"No sir. Winky would never," she answered sincerely.

"Very well," Crouch sighed. "Winky, you directly disobeyed my orders to stay in the tent. Not only that – you have embarrassed and disgraced me. I have no choice but to relinquish you."

Fred stared in shock as Winky sobbed even louder, clinging to her master's leg, and pleading with him. The worst thing in the world for some house elves was the shame of unemployment. Crouch shook her from his leg, Winky landing hard on the ground, and walked forward to hand Harry his wand back.

"Diggory, Dawlish, Perkins, you three take over scanning the eastward boundary. Weasley, Williamson, you come with me to the west," Crouch commanded, giving no attention to the house elf that was no longer his.

"Actually sir, I think I'm going to take care of my children and their friends. Make sure they get home safely," said Arthur, putting a hand on Fred and Ron's shoulders. Crouch nodded curtly and then turned on his heel.

"Come on, let's go find the others," suggested his father and started further into the forest with Harry and Ron in tow. Fred followed as well, hanging back to keep pace with Granger who kept looking back to the small figure of Winky lying on the ground crying. He wondered for a moment if someone should be responsible for the poor thing. Surely, she couldn't just be left in the woods to fend for herself. But then he remembered that house elves had their own magic, and if Winky had even an ounce of sense, she'd find her way out eventually. Under the calming protection of his father, Fred though for the first time that night of his brother George. He wondered if George and Ginny had gotten far enough away and if they were alright. Of course, he knew in his heart that if something had happened to George, he'd know. He'd feel it in a very…twin way he supposed. So, the fact that he didn't feel anything but the receding adrenaline in his body and the twinge of sadness for Winky, gave him hope. He heard a small sniffle come from the witch beside him and turned to see tears silently streaming down Granger's face. The tears left streaks down her dirt smudged skin, and he noticed a few leaves stuck in her bushy curls. Casually, he reached out and plucked the leaves.

"Alright Granger?" he asked. She nodded but kept her gaze on the path ahead of them as she wiped away her tears with the heel of her palm.