Many thanks to those who sent messages and reviewed! Was touched by some of the feedback and behind the scene things that some readers have done based on my recommendations. The time draws near to where I can really crank out the rest of the edits (books 6 and 7) as the Veneficus Trilogy is drawing to a close in the writing stage. once that is done, i will have significantly more time to edit, and once the edits are done, HP:AoM will transition to a once a week update, and I will start work on a new project, non-fanfiction related. This likely means little to those who do not read my other stories (Shame on you... JK) but in due time Stormreaver will be the only story updating, while I commence work on something significantly more expansive. But i will elaborate on that at a later date, when the ball starts rolling more. Until later, please enjoy the next chapter!

Chapter Two

The Quidditch World Cup Finals

Harry felt as though he had barely lain down to sleep in Ron's room, Faykan curled beside him, when they were being shaken awake by Mrs. Weasley.

"Time to go boys, wake up." She whispered gently, moving away to wake Ron.

Harry felt around for his glasses and accidentally caught Faykan in the face with his elbow, causing him to grunt angrily in pain. They had been so close to each other, Harry was surprised he hadn't felt Faykan's breath on him in the night. Harry pulled on his glasses, and both he and Faykan sat up. It was still dark outside. Ron muttered indistinctly as his mother roused him, while at the foot of his bed, Harry saw two large, disheveled shapes emerging from tangles of blankets.

"S' time already?" Said Faykan, rubbing his face where Harry had elbowed him.

They all dressed in silence, too tired to talk, then, still yawning and stretching, the five boys made their way downstairs into the kitchen.

Mrs. Weasley was stirring the contents of a large pot on the stove, while Mr. Weasley was sitting at the table, checking a sheaf of large parchment tickets. He looked up as the boys entered and spread his arms so that they could see his clothes more clearly. He was wearing what appeared to be a golfing sweater and a very old pair of jeans, slightly too big for him and held up with a thick leather belt.

"What d'you think?" he asked anxiously. "We're supposed to go incognito; do I look like a Muggle, Harry?"

"Yeah," said Harry, smiling, "very good."

"Where're Bill and Charlie and Per-Per-Percy?" said George, failing to stifle a huge yawn.

"Well, they're Apparating, aren't they?" said Mrs. Weasley, heaving the large pot over to the table and starting to ladle porridge into bowls. "So they can have a bit of a lie-in."

Harry knew that Apparating meant disappearing from one place and reappearing almost instantly in another, and had even done it several times with Faykan.

"So they're still in bed?" said Fred grumpily, pulling his bowl of porridge toward him. "Why can't we Apparate too?"

"Because you're not of age and you haven't passed your test," snapped Mrs. Weasley. "And where have those girls got to?"

She bustled out of the kitchen and they heard her climbing the stairs.

"You have to pass a test to Apparate?" Harry asked, confused. Faykan had apparated loads of time, and never once had he mentioned having to pass a test. Then again, Faykan didn't mention many things about his life, if he could avoid it.

"Oh yes," said Mr. Weasley, tucking the tickets safely into the back pocket of his jeans. "The Department of Magical Transportation had to fine a couple of people the other day for Apparating without a license. It's not easy, Apparition, and when it's not done property it can lead to nasty complications. This pair I'm talking about went and splinched themselves."

Everyone around the table except Harry winced.

"Err, splinched?" Harry asked.

Faykan explained that when someone botches Apparition, they sometimes leave parts of themselves behind, know at Splinching, adding that it was very painful and could potentially be lethal.

"Were they okay?" he asked, startled.

"Oh yes," said Mr. Weasley matter-of-factly. "But they got a heavy fine, and I don't think they'll be trying it again in a hurry. You don't mess around with Apparition. There are plenty of adult wizards who don't bother with it. Prefer brooms; slower, but safer."

There were footsteps down the passageway and Hermione and Ginny came into the kitchen, both looking pale and drowsy.

"Why do we have to be up so early?" Ginny said, rubbing her eyes and sitting down at the table.

"We've got a bit of a walk," said Mr. Weasley.

"Walk?" said Harry. "What, are we walking to the World Cup?"

"No, no, that's miles away," said Mr. Weasley, smiling. "We only need to walk a short way. It's just that it's very difficult for a large number of wizards to congregate without attracting Muggle attention. We have to be very careful about how we travel at the best of times, and on a huge occasion like the Quidditch World Cup..."

"George!" said Mrs. Weasley sharply, and they all jumped.

"What?" asked George in an innocent tone that deceived no one.

"What is that in your pocket?" Mrs. Weasley demanded.

"Nothing!" George protested, moving to escape out the front door.

"Don't you lie to me!" Mrs. Weasley pointed her wand at George's pocket and said, "Accio!"

Several small, brightly colored objects zoomed out of George's pocket; he made a grab for them but missed, and they sped right into Mrs. Weasley's outstretched hand.

"We told you to destroy them!" said Mrs. Weasley furiously, holding up what looked like a toffee. "We told you to get rid of the lot! Empty your pockets… go on, both of you!"

It was an unpleasant scene; the twins had evidently been trying to smuggle as many of the strange toffees out of the house as possible, and it was only by using her Summoning Charm that Mrs. Weasley managed to find them all.

"Accio! Accio! Accio!" she shouted, and toffees zoomed from all sorts of unlikely places, including the lining of George's jacket and the turn-ups of Fred's jeans.

"We spent six months developing those!" Fred shouted at his mother as she threw the toffees away.

"Oh a fine way to spend six months!" she shrieked. "No wonder you didn't get more O.W.L.s!"

All in all, the atmosphere was not very friendly as they took their departure. Mrs. Weasley was still glowering as she kissed Mr. Weasley on the cheek, though not nearly as much as the twins, who had each hoisted their rucksacks onto their backs and walked out without a word to her.

"Well, have a lovely time," said Mrs. Weasley, "and behave yourselves," she called after the twins' retreating backs, but they did not look back or answer. "I'll send Bill, Charlie, and Percy along around midday," Mrs. Weasley said to Mr. Weasley, as he, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny set off across the dark yard after Fred and George.

It was chilly and the moon was still out. Only a dull, greenish tinge along the horizon to their right showed that daybreak was drawing closer. Harry, having been thinking about thousands of wizards speeding toward the Quidditch World Cup, decided to ask Faykan about it, "So, how is everyone getting to the World Cup without the Muggles noticing?"

"Easy," he replied, "Apparition for those who can, and by Portkey for those who can't. You remember the item we took to get to Malfoy Manor last Christmas? That was a Portkey. Allows for large numbers of wizard to travel long distances, and they can be timed to go off, or set to react to the first touch, or a command phrase. Very handy items,"

"Oh…" Harry said.

They trudged down the dark, dank lane toward the village, the silence broken only by their footsteps. The sky lightened very slowly as they made their way through the village, its inky blackness diluting to deepest blue. Harry's hands and feet were freezing. Mr. Weasley kept checking his watch.

They didn't have breath to spare for talking as they began to climb Stoatshead Hill, stumbling occasionally in hidden rabbit holes, slipping on thick black tuffets of grass. Each breath Harry took was sharp in his chest and his legs were starting to seize up when, at last, his feet found level ground.

"Whew," panted Mr. Weasley, taking off his glasses and wiping them on his sweater. "Well, we've made good time, we've got ten minutes."

Hermione came over the crest of the hill last, clutching a stitch in her side. "Now we just need the Portkey," said Mr. Weasley, replacing his glasses and squinting around at the ground. "It won't be big... Come on..."

They spread out, searching. They had only been at it for a couple of minutes, however, when a shout rent the still air. "Over here, Arthur! Over here, son, we've got it." Two tall figures were silhouetted against the starry sky on the other side of the hilltop.

"Amos!" said Mr. Weasley, smiling as he strode over to the man who had shouted. The rest of them followed.

Mr. Weasley was shaking hands with a ruddy-faced wizard with a scrubby brown beard, who was holding a moldy-looking old boot in his other hand.

"This is Amos Diggory, everyone," said Mr. Weasley. "He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And I think you know his son, Cedric?"

Cedric Diggory was an extremely handsome boy of around seventeen. He was Captain and Seeker of the Hufflepuff House Quidditch team at Hogwarts.

"Hi," said Cedric, looking around at them all.

Everybody said hi back except Faykan, who was watching what looked like a large black cloud sailing toward them. Cedric saw where he was looking and turned, "Isn't that odd," he said, "Hey Dad, what is that?"

Now everyone turned to look, "A cloud?" Mr. Diggory answered unsure. "It seems to be moving way to fast for a cloud." Mr. Weasley said, just as they heard the sound of cawing in the distance, growing louder.

"Birds?" Harry asked, as the large forms of ravens soared over them, heading northward, cawing loudly.

"Extraordinary," Mr. Diggory said, "I've never seen ravens act like that before."

"Those were not ordinary ravens," Faykan said, more to himself than anyone else as he watched the birds intently, "Those were Crebain, from Dunland and Fanghorn."

Everyone looked at him in confusion, and Faykan flushed slightly at their scrutiny, "Its something I read about…" he muttered weakly.

Mr. Weasley was the first to recover, "Well, it's about time, we'd better get ready, just place a finger on the portkey,"

With difficulty, owing to their bulky backpacks, the ten of them crowded around the old boot held out by Amos Diggory.

They all stood there, in a tight circle, as a chill breeze swept over the hilltop. Nobody spoke. It suddenly occurred to Harry how odd this would look if a Muggle were to walk up here now ... ten people, two of them grown men, clutching this manky old boot in the semidarkness, waiting...

"Three…" muttered Mr. Weasley, one eye still on his watch, two... one…"

It happened immediately: Harry felt the pull of a hook just behind his navel had been suddenly jerked irresistibly forward. His feet left the ground; he could feel

Ron and Faykan on either side of him, their shoulders banging into his; they were all speeding forward in a howl of wind and swirling color; his forefinger was stuck to the boot as though it was pulling him magnetically onward and then…

His feet slammed into the ground; Ron staggered into him and he fell over; the

Portkey hit the ground near his head with a heavy thud.

Harry looked up. Mr. Weasley, Mr. Diggory, Faykan and Cedric were still standing, though looking very windswept; everybody else was on the ground.

"Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill," said a voice.

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Hermione pulled herself from the ground, glancing around to see who had spoken. They had arrived on what appeared to be a deserted stretch of misty moor. In front of them was a pair of tired and grumpy-looking wizards, one of whom was holding a large gold watch, the other a thick roll of parchment and a quill. Both were dressed as Muggles, though very inexpertly: The man with the watch wore a tweed suit with thigh-length galoshes; his colleague, a kilt and a poncho.

"Morning, Basil," said Mr. Weasley, picking up the boot and handing it to the kilted wizard, who threw it into a large box of used Portkeys beside him; Hermione noticed an old newspaper, an empty drinks can, and a punctured football among the items.

"Hello there, Arthur," said Basil wearily. "Not on duty, eh? It's all right for some... We've been here all night... You'd better get out of the way; we've got a big party coming in from the Black Forest at five fifteen. Hang on, I'll find your campsite... Weasley... Weasley..." He consulted his parchment list. "About a quarter of a mile's walk over there, first field you come to."

"Thanks, Basil," said Mr. Weasley, and he beckoned everyone to follow him.

After reaching their designated camp ground they set up a pair of seemingly Muggle tents, which turned out to be much bigger inside than out, Hermione, Harry, Ron, and Faykan were commissioned to fetch water, then finally help light the fire, as Mr. Weasley had no idea how to go about it the Muggle way.

Faykan grumbled the entire time about not being able to use magic, which Hermione did find slightly silly, because not only was everyone else doing it, but any Muggles that noticed would just be Obliviated regardless. But she surmised that as a Ministry worker, Mr. Weasley had to follow the agreed upon rules, even if no one else heeded them.

At last they got the fire lit, though it was at least another hour before it was hot enough to cook anything. There was plenty to watch while they waited, however. Their tent seemed to be pitched right alongside a kind of thoroughfare to the field, and Ministry members kept hurrying up and down it, greeting Mr. Weasley cordially as they passed.

Mr. Weasley kept up a running commentary, mainly for Harry's and Hermione's benefit; his own children knew too much about the Ministry to be greatly interested. They saw the Head of the Goblin Liaison Office, Cuthbert Mockridge, a Committee member of Experimental Charms, Gilbert Wimple, an Obliviator named Arnold Peasegood. And two Unspeakables named Bode and Croaker, who looked directly at Faykan as they passed, before hurrying away and chatting excitedly to themselves. Hermione only heard a catch of something before they passed: the word "Old one…"

A little while later, Ludo Bagman himself strode toward their tents. "Ahoy there!" Bagman called happily. He was walking as though he had springs attached to the balls of his feet and was plainly in a state of wild excitement.

"Arthur, old man," he puffed as he reached the campfire, "what a day, eh? What a day! Could we have asked for more perfect weather? A cloudless night coming... and hardly a hiccough in the arrangements... Not much for me to do!"

Behind him, a group of haggard-looking Ministry wizards rushed past, pointing at the distant evidence of some sort of a magical fire that was sending violet sparks twenty feet into the air.

Percy hurried forward with his hand outstretched. Apparently his disapproval of the way Ludo Bagman ran his department did not prevent him from wanting to make a good impression.

"Ah, yes," said Mr. Weasley, grinning, "this is my son Percy. He's just started at the Ministry, and this is Fred… no, George, sorry, that's Fred, Bill, Charlie, Ron, my daughter, Ginny and Ron's friends, Hermione Granger, Faykan Undol and Harry Potter." Bagman did the smallest of double takes when he heard Harry's name, and his eyes performed the familiar flick upward to the scar on Harry's forehead. Hermione smiled as Faykan rolled his eyes.

"Everyone," Mr. Weasley continued, "this is Ludo Bagman, you know who he is, it's thanks to him we've got such good tickets…"

Bagman beamed and waved his hand as if to say it had been nothing. He then proceeded to, of all things; ask for wagers on the match. Hermione was rather affronted at that, but said nothing. She had learned that it simply did no good to try and get between people and Quidditch. Mr. Weasley seemed to dislike the idea of betting on the match, but wagered one Galleon on Ireland to win. Fred and George, however, felt different. They bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, and three Knuts that Ireland won, but Krum got the Snitch.

Mr. Bagman and Mr. Weasley argued a bit about whether Fred and George should be allowed to bet, but Bagman won in the end, and exchanged the twin's gold for a slip of parchment. They then discussed Mr. Crouch and Bertha Jorkins, which perked both Faykan's and Percy's interests…

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A sense of excitement rose like a palpable cloud over the campsite as the afternoon wore on. By dusk, the still summer air itself seemed to be quivering with anticipation, and as darkness spread like a curtain over the thousands of waiting wizards, the last vestiges of pretence disappeared: the Ministry seemed to have bowed to the inevitable and stopped fighting the signs of blatant magic now breaking out everywhere.

Salesmen were Apparating every few feet, carrying trays and pushing carts full of extraordinary merchandise. There were luminous rosettes, green for Ireland, red for Bulgaria, which were squealing the names of the players, pointed green hats bedecked with dancing shamrocks, Bulgarian scarves adorned with lions that really roared, flags from both countries that played their national anthems as they were waved; there were tiny models of Firebolts that really flew, and collectible figures of famous players, which strolled across the palm of your hand, preening themselves.

"Been saving my pocket money all summer for this," Ron told Harry as they, Faykan and Hermione strolled through the salesmen, buying souvenirs. Though Ron purchased a dancing shamrock hat and a large green rosette, he also bought a small figure of Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker. The miniature Krum walked backward and forward over Ron's hand, scowling up at the green rosette above him.

"Wow, look at these!" said Harry, hurrying over to a cart piled high with what looked like brass binoculars, except that they were covered with all sorts of weird knobs and dials.

"Omnioculars," said the sales-wizard eagerly. "You can replay action ... slow everything down ... and they flash up a play-by-play breakdown if you need it. Bargain! Ten Galleons each."

"Wish I hadn't bought this now," said Ron, gesturing at his dancing shamrock hat and gazing longingly at the Omnioculars.

"Four pairs," said Harry firmly to the wizard.

"No… don't bother," said Ron, going red. He was always touchy about the fact that Harry, who had inherited a small fortune from his parents, and Faykan had much more money than he did.

"You won't be getting anything for Christmas," Harry told him, thrusting Omnioculars into his, Faykan's and Hermione's hands. "For about ten years, mind."

"Fair enough," said Ron, grinning.

"Ooh, thanks, Harry," said Hermione. "And I'll get us some programs, look…" Their money bags considerably lighter, they went back to the tents. Bill, Charlie, and Ginny were all sporting green rosettes too, and Mr. Weasley was carrying an Irish flag. Fred and George had no souvenirs as they had given Bagman all their gold.

And then a deep, booming gong sounded somewhere beyond the woods, and at once, green and red lanterns blazed into life in the trees, lighting a path to the field.

"It's time!" said Mr. Weasley, looking as excited as any of them. "Come on, let's go!"Harry

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Draco was excited for the World Cup Finals, not that he would allow such emotion to show with both of his parents there with him, but his heart felt as though it wanted to leap right out of his chest.

"…ah, and here's Lucius!" said Fudge as they entered the Top Box. Draco's father had gotten a personal invitation from the Minister for a rather generous contribution to St. Mungo's. Draco saw it for what it really was: a bribe. But, as horrible as some of the things his father did, Lucius was still his father and Draco loved him, even if they rarely showed it to each other.

"Ah, Fudge," said Lucius, holding out his hand as he reached the Minister of Magic. "How are you? I don't think you've met my wife, Narcissa, or our son Draco?" Draco took the time to glance at the other people in the Top box.

To his surprise, not only were all the Weasleys in attendance, but Harry, Hermione and Faykan. They had all turned as the Malfoy family entered, and Draco saw the younger members nod at him in greeting. The youngest girl, Ginny if he remembered her name correctly from Ron, flushed slightly as she saw him, and turned back to watch the stadium, causing Hermione to grin at him from her seat next to the red haired girl. Draco raised his eyebrows slightly, and Hermione winked.

"Good lord Arthur," Lucius said softly to Mr. Weasley. "What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn't have fetched this much?"

Mr. Weasley just smiled slightly as he ignored Lucius.

Thankfully, Ludo Bagman finally entered the box, forestalling any possibly confrontation between the two men. Draco sighed slightly as he took his seat.

"Everyone ready?" he said, his round face gleaming like a great, excited Edam. "Minister, ready to go?"

"Ready when you are, Ludo," said Fudge comfortably.

Ludo whipped out his wand, directed it at his own throat, and said "Sonorus!" and then spoke over the roar of sound that was now filling the packed stadium; his voice echoed over them, booming into every corner of the stands.

"Ladies and gentlemen... welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty second Quidditch World Cup!"

The spectators screamed and clapped. Thousands of flags waved, adding their discordant national anthems to the racket. The huge blackboard opposite them was wiped clear of its last message (Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, A Risk With Every Mouthful!) and now showed 'BULGARIA: 0, IRELAND: 0.'

"And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce... the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!"

The right hand side of the stands, which was a solid block of scarlet, roared its approval.

Draco lean forward in his seat expectantly as hundreds of Veela glided onto the field. As they began to dance, Draco felt himself slide into the bliss of their control, but his father's arm on his shoulder coaxed him back to reality. Glancing over at his friends, Draco saw that Harry and Ron were completely entranced by the creatures.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Faykan said to him, as both Harry and Ron stood shakily from their seats. They looked like they were going to jump from the box. Harry had started to swing one leg over the wall when the Veela stopped to angry yells from the crowd.

Draco hid a grin as Faykan tugged Harry back into his seat, amidst Hermione's tutting about boys.

"And now," roared Ludo Bagman's voice, "kindly put your wands in the air... for the Irish National Team Mascots!"

Next moment, what seemed to be a great green-and-gold comet came zooming into the stadium. It did one circuit of the stadium, and split into two smaller comets, each hurtling toward the goal posts. A rainbow arced suddenly across the field, connecting the two balls of light. After the rainbow faded and the balls of light reunited and merged; they had formed a great shimmering shamrock, which rose up into the sky and began to soar over the stands.

Something like golden rain seemed to be falling from it "Excellent!" yelled Ron as the shamrock soared over them, and heavy gold coins rained from it, bouncing off their heads and seats. Squinting up at the shamrock, Draco realized that it was actually comprised of thousands of tiny little bearded men with red vests, each carrying a minute lamp of gold or green.

Draco smiled to himself as he saw Ron scrounging the gold off the ground and shoving a fistful into Harry's hands, didn't he know that leprechaun gold vanished after a few hours?

Bagman started introducing the two teams, naming the players off as they sped into the air. Draco sat back to see what would be the talk of the next few months, or until the event that was happening at Hogwarts this year. After all, the Triwizard Tournament was being revived for the first time in over two hundred years, which would prove to be big news.

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"Oh I am glad I'm not on duty," muttered Mr. Weasley sleepily as the boys all changed into pajamas and climbed into their bunks. "I wouldn't fancy having to go and tell the Irish they've got to stop celebrating."

The Irish had won the World Cup, despite Victor Krum getting the Snitch, just as Fred and George had bet upon. The twins hadn't stopped grinning all night about it, mentioning that they had 'big plans' for the gold. Even Mr. Weasley didn't want to ask what the plans were.

Harry, who was on a top bunk above Faykan, lay staring up at the canvas ceiling of the tent, watching the glow of an occasional leprechaun lantern flying overhead, picturing in his mind the exciting moves he had seen in the game. He was itching to get back to Hogwarts and try out some of the moves he had seen both seekers perform, especially the Wronski Feint…

Harry never knew if he actually dropped off to sleep that night, his fantasies of flying like Krum might well have slipped into actual dreams, but all he knew was that quite suddenly, Mr. Weasley was shouting at them all.

"Get up! Ron, Faykan, Harry, come on now, get up, this is urgent!"

Harry sat up quickly and the top of his head hit canvas.

"S' matter?" he said.

Dimly, he could tell that something was wrong. The noises in the campsite had changed. The singing had stopped. He could hear screams, and the sound of people running. He slipped down from the bunk and reached for his clothes, but Mr. Weasley, who had pulled on his jeans over his own pajamas, said, "No time, Harry, just grab a jacket and get outside, quickly!"

Harry did as he was told and hurried out of the tent, Ron and Faykan at his heels.

By the light of the few fires that were still burning, he could see people running away into the woods, fleeing something that was moving across the field toward them, something that was emitting odd flashes of light and noises like gunfire. Loud jeering, roars of laughter, and drunken yells were drifting toward them; then came a burst of strong green light, which illuminated the scene.

A crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wands pointing straight upward, was marching slowly across the field. Harry squinted at them... They didn't seem to have faces... Then he realized that their heads were hooded and their faces masked.

High above them, floating along in midair, four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes. It was as though the masked wizards on the ground were puppeteers, and the people above them were marionettes operated by invisible strings that rose from the wands into the air. Two of the figures were very small.

More wizards were joining the marching group, laughing and pointing up at the floating bodies. Tents crumpled and fell as the marching crowd swelled. Once or twice Harry saw one of the marchers blast a tent out of his way with his wand. Several caught fire. The screaming grew louder.

"Those bastards…" Faykan said, pulling out his wand and advancing a few steps toward the group of masked wizards, but Ron caught him, "there's nothing you can do mate." He said, struggling to hold Faykan, who was writhing, straining to free himself.

Hermione and Ginny came hurrying toward them, pulling coats over their nightdresses, with Mr. Weasley right behind them. At the same moment, Bill, Charlie, and Percy emerged from the boys' tent, fully dressed, with their sleeves rolled up and their wands out.

"We're going to help the Ministry!" Mr. Weasley shouted over all the noise, rolling up his own sleeves. "You lot - get into the woods, and stick together. I'll come and fetch you when we've sorted this out!"

"I can fight!" Faykan called to him, "No!" Mr. Weasley said fiercely. Bill, Charlie, and Percy were already sprinting away toward the oncoming marchers; Mr. Weasley tore after them. Ministry wizards were dashing from every direction toward the source of the trouble. The crowd of masked wizards was coming ever closer.

"C'mon," said Fred, grabbing Ginny's hand and starting to pull her toward the wood. Hermione, George, Ron and Harry followed, the latter two pulling Faykan by his jacket as he struggled to follow Mr. Weasley.

Despite Faykan finally being taller than Harry, he and Ron's combined strength proved too much for Faykan, and they were able to force him against one of the outer trees and hold him in place. "Faykan, stop, Mr. Weasley said for us to remain here." Harry cried, but Faykan refused to listen. Ron finally slapped Faykan across the face to get his attention, and finally the boy returned to his senses. "Sorry." He muttered as they made their way into the woods.

The colored lanterns that had lit the path to the stadium had been extinguished. Dark figures were blundering through the trees; children were crying; anxious shouts and panicked voices were reverberating around them in the cold night air. Harry felt himself being pushed hither and thither by people whose faces he could not see. Then he heard Ron yell with pain.

"What happened?" said Hermione anxiously, stopping so abruptly that Harry walked into her. "Ron, where are you? Oh this is stupid, lumos!"

She illuminated her wand and directed its narrow beam across the path. Ron was lying sprawled on the ground.

"Tripped over a tree root," he said angrily, getting to his feet again.

Harry looked around. 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. A huddle of teenagers in pajamas was arguing vociferously a little way along the path. When they saw Harry, Ron, and Hermione, a girl with thick curly hair turned and said quickly, "Oü est Madame Maxime? Nous l'avons perdue…"

"Err, what?" said Ron.

"Oh..." The girl who had spoken turned her back on him, and as they walked on they distinctly heard her say, "Ogwarts."

"Beauxbatons," muttered Hermione.

"Sorry?" said Harry.

"They must go to Beauxbatons," said Hermione. "You know... Beauxbatons Academy of Magic... I read about it in 'An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe'."

"Oh…" Harry said. He had never heard of there being other wizarding schools, but he reasoned that there must be.

"Fred and George can't have gone that far," said Faykan, lighting his wand like Hermione's, and staring into the gloom. Harry pulled out his from his holster as well, while Ron dug around in his pockets. "Ah, no, I don't believe it… I've lost my wand!" he exclaimed after a minute.

"You're kidding," Harry replied. Faykan and Hermione raised their wand high, spreading the beams farther on the ground; Harry and Ron looked around, but Ron's wand was nowhere to be seen.

"Hopefully you just left it in the tent," Faykan offered, reassuringly.

"Yeah," Ron said hopelessly, "maybe…"

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A rustling noise nearby made all three of them jump. Hermione peered around, trying to find the source of the noise. A small creature with an overly large head was fighting its way out of a clump of bushes nearby. It was moving in a most peculiar fashion, apparently with great difficulty; it was as though someone invisible were trying to hold it back.

"There is bad wizards about!" the creature, that Hermione recognized as a House elf, squeaked distractedly as it leaned forward and labored to keep running. "People high… high in the air! Winky is getting out of the way!"

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

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

"Bet you that house elf didn't ask permission to hide," said Harry.

"You know, house elves get a very raw deal!" said Hermione indignantly. "It's slavery, that's what it is! Why doesn't anyone do something about it?"

"Well, the elves are happy, aren't they?" Ron said. "That's what they like, being bossed around…"

"It's people like you, Ron," Hermione began, starting to get rather angry, "who prop up rotten and unjust systems, just because they're too lazy to…"

Another loud bang echoed from the edge of the wood.

"This isn't the time or place for this," Faykan said, cutting them both off, "let's keep moving."

They followed the dark path deeper into the wood, still keeping an eye out for Fred, George, and Ginny. They passed a group of goblins who were cackling over a sack of gold that they had undoubtedly won betting on the match, and who seemed quite unperturbed by the trouble at the campsite. Farther still along the path, they walked into a patch of silvery light, and when they looked through the trees, they saw three tall and beautiful Veela standing in a clearing, surrounded by a gaggle of young wizards, all of whom were talking very loudly.

"I pull down about a hundred sacks of Galleons a year!" one of them shouted. "I'm a dragon killer for the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures."

"No, you're not!" yelled his friend. "You're a dishwasher at the Leaky Cauldron... but I'm a vampire hunter, I've killed about ninety so far…"

A third young wizard, whose pimples were visible even by the dim, silvery light of the Veela, now cut in, "I'm about to become the youngest ever Minister of Magic, I am."

But the Veela were not paying attention to their admirers. The moment Harry, Ron, Faykan and Hermione entered their clearing, they had turned their shining eyes upon the three boys, tossing their golden hair and smiling widely.

Hermione saw both Harry and Ron become entranced immediately, but Faykan glared at the Veela, "putta i' luhta ron ier nu haba vara," he yelled at them as he took hold of Harry's arm, preventing him walking toward the creatures. Hermione took hold of Ron, and together she and Faykan marched the boys away. By the time the sounds of the Veela and their admirers had faded completely, they were in the very heart of the wood. They seemed to be alone now; everything was much quieter.

Hermione turned soon after they settled down in the clearing. It sounded as though someone was staggering toward them. They waited, listening to the sounds of the uneven steps behind the dark trees. But the footsteps came to a sudden halt.

"Hello?" called Harry.

There was silence. Harry and Faykan got to their feet and peered around the trees.

"Who's there?" Harry repeated.

And then, without warning, the silence was rent by a voice unlike any they had heard in the wood; and it uttered, not a panicked shout, but what sounded like a spell.

"MORSMORDRE!"

putta i' luhta ron ier nu haba vara : stop the enchantment they are under mine protection

Potential Spoilers Ahead, You Have Been Warned!

This chapter is much the same as previously introduced, with mostly canon material because of the lack of possibilities to influence such a massive event. Take note of the Unspeakables, and their attention to Faykan, that may or may not be relevant later on! Again, much thanks to those that took time and effort to review and send messages, and especially those who went above and beyond, actually acquiring The Dark Is Rising sequence. I certainly hope you enjoy it as much as I do! Until next time everyone!