The Prince-Who-Lived

Chapter Fourteen

Harry slowly wandered his way back towards his parents tent, passing through several groups of people, some waving brightly to every passer-by, others talking in tightly knit groups. Harry just smiled slowly and strolled casually through the paths between. As he walked, he finally passed a cluster of tents with a flag overtop reading 'Salem Sorcerer's School'. Beneath the flag flew a smaller American flag, and then, at the bottom, there were several people seated in folding chairs, talking together. Just further along, Geoffrey and his friends who had been talking to Harry's parents last he'd seen, were approaching. Geoffrey gave him a small smile before joining the others at the base of the flagpole.

"Feeling better yet, Velorian?" Geoffrey asked. A dirty blonde nodded lightly, and leaned back. He looked a lot younger than Harry's parents, and had a grin that strongly reminded Harry of Sirius when he was planning something.

"Quite, thank you." His grin became slightly goofy. "I'm going to have another kid."

"Hopefully with several times less drama than your last one," Amaranth, the brown-haired man who'd been introduced as Green's brother, asked with a seeming lack of attention. Velorian nodded anyways, and Harry was almost out of earshot when he answered.

"Most certainly. Having one kid from vampire politics is enough for me. I just hope Andrew is happy to have a little sibling."

Harry tripped and paused before forcing himself to keep walking. That was Andrew's dad? He didn't look old enough to have a fourteen-year-old son! Harry wasn't watching where he was going, and rather suddenly he ran into someone. Harry stepped back and quickly apologized.

"Sorry sir, I wasn't looking." Harry glanced up and froze. He was looking straight at Severus Snape, who frowned tightly down at him.

"Indeed, Mr. Potter. Perhaps you should exercise a little more caution in the future so as not to offend someone more than you already have." Snape snapped. "You seem a little more like your father every year, so please be wary. He's offended enough that you might need more than a name to keep yourself safe."

Harry nodded without speaking and left swiftly before his face betrayed him. His departure left Severus watching him with interest at the lack of retaliation. Harry, however, was more concerned with controlling his anger. He was not like his father. He didn't hate people for no reason, he didn't discriminate against what he didn't understand, and he most certainly was not a bully. His father did have redeeming traits – drive, honour, conviction – but that didn't make his faults any less in the eyes of his son. Harry was determined to never have those failings.

Harry continued back to his parents' tents and passed several salesmen on the way, hawking their wares to the others. The stuff wasn't blatantly magical quite yet, but it was getting closer, with more and more wizards furtively trying magic. Once back, he found that his parents were gone, and so Harry continued on his wandering, fingering his serpent necklace and the key that would warn his parents were his life endangered. He'd been inordinately pleased when this one had lasted the year.

He wandered through several different areas before pausing when he found Salem Witches' Institute. He stopped for a few moments, and a kind faced woman strolled over.

"Hello son. You're looking right out of place. You looking for someone?"

Harry paused, and then gave a small smile. "Yes, my parents. But I'm curious … The Salem Sorcerer's School is all the way across the campground, but …" He was sure Alan had mentioned it, but couldn't remember.

Several women behind laughed and the woman who's spoken to him gave him a wry grin. "The school's are far apart because as well as the alumni might personally get along, we're still rival schools. Goodness knows my husband is over there, but get him in a professional capacity and we're immediately at logger-heads."

Harry gave the light-haired woman a second glance with a curious expression and she smiled. "I'm married to Geoffrey Alfaerus."

"Oh!" Harry mouthed. This was Alan's biological aunt, then. They looked nothing like each other. "Nice to meet you." He gave her a small smile, and she waved him along his way. Harry left amused; Geoffrey's wife seemed as spunky as he was. It was surprising, though, that Alan's aunt was so blonde. He couldn't find a single distinct resemblance between them.

Finally he came across the Weasley's tents. Harry's parents, the Longbottoms, Sirius and Remus were all there sitting with Arthur Weasley and his sons. Ron and Neville both waved as he approached and James smiled.

"Hey Harry, I hope you didn't worry."

"No, I thought you'd head over here." Harry reassured him. "Just got a good look around the camp, though. There are a lot of people here."

Neville and Ron laughed, and then Arthur coughed.

"Harry, Neville has said he doesn't want to sit in the top box. Would you like to take his seat up there?"

Harry blinked, and looked quietly at his parents. "May I?"

James laughed. "Merlin, of course you can, Harry. I'd give anything to have a seat up there. I'm not about to say no." Lily nodded along with him, and Harry broke into a wide grin before grabbing Ron's hand and laughing.

"So I get the seat next to you, Ronnikins. Hey, look. The vendors are over here."

Indeed, one of the vendors had just apparated near their camp, and smiled over at them brightly before starting in on her wares. Harry stood with Ron, Hermione, and Neville and quickly strolled over and looked through the wares. There were hats, and flags and figurines and Ron bought a talking rosette and a dancing shamrock hat in addition to a small walking figure of Krum. Harry laughed, and enjoyed looking, but didn't buy anything and neither did Neville nor Hermione. However, they soon found a vendor selling brass binoculars covered in many strange knobs and dials that turned out to be omnioculars. Ron looked at them hungrily. Harry rolled his eyes and fingered his pocket money. He had quite a bit; he hadn't bought anything for a while, and, once he glanced at Neville, Harry turned to the vendor.

"Four pair."

The woman blinked, and then smiled very warmly as she handed them over. Harry pulled out most of his money and then waited for Neville to hand over his twenty before paying the woman and thrusting a pair at Ron. Neville handed one to Hermione and Harry quickly returned to the camp, apparently deaf to Ron's protestations. Finally, Harry tired of his arguments, turned and gave him a firm stare.

"Consider it an early Christmas present and I just won't get you one then, alright? Am I not allowed to do things just because you're my friend? You're not going to talk me out of it, so make sure you get good use of it."

Before Ron could continue, Harry had turned around again, and a large gong echoed through the woods. Harry grinned, and Ron stopped griping to stare towards the pathway in awe. Neville clapped Harry on the shoulder and moved to stand with his parents; James gave Harry a warm smile and a thumbs up. Harry caught up with Mr. Weasley and followed him. The match would soon begin.

At the far end of the lantern lit trail, Harry stared and grinned at the gigantic gold stadium. He could hardly imagine that he would be inside it soon, and sitting right up at the very top. The ministry witch told them to go clean to the top and they climbed just ahead of Harry's parents and the Longbottoms. As they reached the top, Neville called to Harry,

"Enjoy the match!"

Harry turned and saluted him before continuing up to the small box on the top of the pitch, exactly between the two goalposts. Below him, and all across the bowl, hundreds of thousands of witches and wizards settled themselves around the pitch. Harry stood right at the rail and smiled stupidly. Hermione stepped up beside him and sighed.

"It's gorgeous, isn't it? I never really imagined there were quite this many magical people in the world."

"I've lived magical my whole life," Harry admitted, "and it still amazes me to see this many magical people in one area. It's … both kind of humbling and frightening."

"Frightening?"

Harry shrugged. "This is representative of our whole world. We can easily fit this representation into a gigantic dome that is still easily hid from muggles. We're still …" Harry shook his head. "It's silly."

"Not really." Hermione murmured. "I see what you mean, but still … we're very close knit, though. Certainly."

"We are that." Harry grinned. Harry turned and bowed Hermione to the chairs behind them, where two on the end were waiting for him and Hermione. "Which seat do you want, my lady?"

Hermione giggled and delicately took the seat in front of a small, terrified house elf. Harry hardly noticed it as he sat down, but Hermione turned and gave it a short look.

"What's this?" She asked.

The tiny house elf didn't react, but Harry glanced over and frowned. "It's someone's house elf. Probably saving their seat."

"A house elf?"

"They're magical creatures, usually indentured to a family and they do the housework. Absolutely love housework, they do. Nothing makes them happier. 'Course, some people treat them like dirt, and I'm sure Malfoy kicks his around with impunity, but what can you do?"

"They're indentured?" Hermione asked. "Do they get freed, ever?"

Harry shook his head slowly. "Not usually. I suppose if you want to get more technical they're considered property, but then again, they likely can't imagine any other life."

"That's so cruel!" Hermione exclaimed. Harry glanced over in surprise, and found himself faced with Hermione's outraged face. "They're thinking beings, aren't they? Why are they treated so badly?"

Harry felt slightly awkward, but still shrugged, speaking under his breath and for her alone. "Hermione, you're talking about a government that classifies vampires and werewolves as animals and only part-human, never mind that they can still think completely normally and function with a few limitations due to being infected with a chronic virus. Do you really think they'd care about something that never was human or 'higher-order' in the first place?" The sarcasm on 'higher-order' was particularly biting.

Hermione's mouth worked and she stared, totally surprised, at Harry. Harry shrugged, and then tapped his finger to his mouth. She got the message; that wasn't something to bring up in public. Her face still retained its ugly cast, though, and Harry hoped the Quidditch would distract her soon. Ron was currently occupying himself with his omnioculars and staring at some poor bloke across the stadium. Hermione finally huffed and pulled out her program, reading out,

"A display from the team mascots will precede the match."

Mr. Weasley smiled. "That's always worth watching. Each team brings a creature native to their land to put on that show."

The box began to fill with many important people. Arthur greeted many of them, and Percy jumped up out of his seat so much Harry thought the twins must have done something to him. Finally, when Minister Fudge came in Percy jumped up and bowed so low his glasses fell from his face and shattered. He repaired them and picked them up red-faced before sitting, and Minister Fudge immediately beamed upon seeing Harry there. Harry squirmed awkwardly. His father had made no public or private secret of his opinion of Fudge, and Harry wasn't inclined to disagree. However, he shook hands with the man with a false smile that would have made Alan proud, and then, once Fudge had turned away, wiped his hand vigorously on his trousers. Hermione laughed quietly, and then Fudge looked back his way and Harry just about wanted to smack him one.

"Do you know the Potters? Potters, James Potter, the auror?" Fudge said loudly to the man behind him. "Oh, good grief. I don't know anything of his language." Harry gathered this was the Bulgarian minister, and nodded politely, stifling his disgust at Fudge. When Fudge turned and exclaimed the Malfoys had arrived, Harry muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath. He swore the Bulgarian minister smiled.

"And I'm sure you know Arthur." Fudge exclaimed. Harry looked up and wished he hadn't; Lucius' unpleasant expression was always hard to look at. He gave him a meaningless smile, and fought to keep his face straight as Lucius whispered an insult to Arthur.

"Good lord Arthur, what did you have to sell to get seats in the top box? Surely your house wouldn't have fetched this much?"

Harry was grateful he was so close to Lucius; his return whisper went unnoticed by Arthur, "They were cheaper than the amount of bootlicking you paid."

Lucius' expression made his anger plain, but Fudge was paying him attention once more, announcing Lucius' exceeding generosity. "Lucius has just given a very generous contribution to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur. He's here as my guest."

Harry shrugged. His parents made yearly donations, and they'd never gotten an invite, but then again Fudge knew they wouldn't accept. Harry gave Lucius a vicious smirk as he looked over his way and Harry's eyes flashed when he recognized the look that crossed Lucius' face as he looked at Hermione. Harry grinned suddenly.

"Mr. Malfoy, I'd like to introduce my friend and the best witch in Hogwarts, Hermione Granger." Harry gave his best public smile and gently indicated Hermione, who blushed, and then gave Lucius a tremulous smile. Harry gently touched her knee and the smile firmed as Lucius fought to keep his dislike from his face. He barely nodded to her; something Harry noted the Bulgarian minister look at with suspicion. Harry watched him leave and made a face.

"As if she didn't even exist. Fudge is such a moron."

"Harry," Hermione quietly asked, "You really didn't have to introduce me. Why?"

"Because it shouldn't be so bloody simple to dismiss someone without magical family. I got introduced to the Bulgarian Minister. Arthur got introduced to Mr. Malfoy. You? You apparently don't even exist in their minds because your muggle-born, never mind that you're sitting right there." Harry pouted. "I hate this government."

Ron and Arthur both shot Harry quelling looks, and Hermione quickly asked another question, "Do you really think I'm the best witch in Hogwarts?"

Harry looked at her with surprise, and Ron rolled his eyes. "Hermione, you're certainly the smartest witch in our year. All Lucius needs to remember is that you always beat out little Malfoy in academics."

Hermione winced. "Something tells me you really don't like the Malfoy's."

Harry shrugged, an ugly cast to his face. "He's a blood-purist." His tone resembled Malfoy's when speaking of muggleborns. "Do I need more reason?"

Hermione didn't answer. Ludo Bagman burst into the top box in the next moment, and looked around.

"Everyone ready?" He practically bounced with excitement. "Minister, ready to go?"

"Ready when you are, Ludo." Fudge said, settling comfortably into his seat. Harry idly noticed that the house elf was still alone, but he looked up with excitement as Bagman cast sonorus and stepped forward to the rail.

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

The stadium roared with screaming and clapping of excited spectators. The board across from their box cleared of the ads it had been displaying and displayed the, currently empty, score.

"And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce the Bulgarian team Mascots!"

The right hand side of the stands, a solid block of scarlet, roared with approval as Arthur leaned forward to see. Suddenly he sat back with satisfaction and hurriedly polished his glasses, announcing, "Ah, veela."

Harry flinched and, using one of the spells he was familiar with from his parents, he tapped both ears and prepared himself, before poking Ron. "Plug your ears if you want to remain coherent."

Ron looked at him in confusion, but Harry was watching the female figures striding out with interest. He'd never seen veela before, but the number of times his books had discussed them had left him both nervous and curious. Their skin shone moon-bright, their hair fanned behind them without a breeze, and he felt a giddy feeling swell inside him that took effort to fight. As soon as a hint of music began, Harry spoke the activator of the spell he'd prepared and he went deaf. He caught a look from Arthur from the corner of his eyes, and Arthur shot him a smile, his own hands in his ears.

It was interesting watching them dance without hearing a sound from the crowd, and the giddy feeling tried to sweep over him again. Harry shook out of it, and then reached up and tugged Ron's shirt. The idiot was walking to the edge of the box, and Fudge was busy preening himself. The other Weasley boys were plugging their own ears, and watching with amusement, and so Harry gave up trying to distract him and watched him make a right fool of himself. Finally, the look of the crowd changed, and Hermione poked Harry, moving her mouth. Ron looked sheepish, and so Harry cancelled the deafening spell in time to hear Hermione finish a sentence.

"-still confusing for me, that you were fine and Ron started acting a fool."

"Hermione," Harry added. "I deafened myself. Surely you've found something about veela."

Hermione pouted as Ron sat down red-faced. Harry smiled gently at her. "You can borrow one of my books. I didn't want to test how I'd react to them."

Hermione nodded curtly. "It's going to be the Irish next."

"I look forward to it." Harry returned his attention to the very annoyed crowd. Bagman spoke over them.

"And now, kindly put your wands in the air … for the Irish National Team Mascots!"

The comet that was apparently their mascot zoomed out into the stadium and did a lap, before breaking into two smaller ones. Harry watched the arrangements with awe, enjoying a display without threat. The comets became a rainbow, and then a giant shamrock that soared over the stands dropping golden rain. Ron clasped at it with joy, tossing the money to Harry.

"Hah! Now you have to get me a Christmas present."

Harry blinked. Apparently Ron didn't know anything about leprechauns, but Harry let it pass and accepted the handful without protest. If it would make him feel better, Harry could certainly accept it. He nodded and caught several more coins, scooping them out of his lap and then throwing one lightly at Ron. Hermione watched with amusement.

The leprechauns dissolved the shamrock and settled opposite the veela to watch the match. Bagman inhaled deeply to prepare, and Harry straightened, raising his omnioculars. This was what he was waiting for. This was Quidditch.

IIII

Harry was ecstatic at the fantastic end of the game. He'd never had more of a rush in his life. He and Ron had a grand argument about the merits and faults of the match, taking them all the way down the stairs and back to the Weasley's tent. Nanna immediately tackled Harry, and even Neville joined in the dynamics talks. As things went along, Connor was soon asleep on Alice, followed by Melanie on Frank and then Nanna on Harry's lap. The adults continued their talking, but when Harry and Neville began to yawn and Ginny to sway in her seat, general consensus sent them all on their way. James and the others had a long walk back to their tent, Connor comfortably laid over Frank's shoulder, and Melanie and Nanna in Remus and Sirius' arms respectively. Harry and Neville trailed them idly, and then fell into their beds once back at camp.

They were hardly asleep before Harry heard someone yelling at them to get up and get moving. Faint screaming came from somewhere apparently far away, and there was sound from outside of many people running. The singing and celebrating of before was wholly gone. Quickly, Harry stood and yanked on his jeans, yelling Neville up and then shaking Connor. Connor woke, and stared around in fright.

"Get up quickly, Connor. Here's your coat, we need to get outside."

Connor scrambled out, and, ignoring his coat, clung to Harry's side. Harry jerked his head towards the girls' tent and Neville ran out, followed by Harry. Sirius and Remus saw them come out, nodded, and ran towards the commotion. Alice and Lily preceded James, and both women quickly went over to Harry and Neville. Connor moved from clinging to Harry to his mother. Neville came over with Nanna and Melanie, and Lily took their hands and led them into the woods farther away, tilting towards where the Weasley's had been before. Harry immediately ran beside them.

"What's going on?"

"It's a riot." Lily began. A burst of gunshot made Harry and Lily flinch violently, and Harry to stare, frightened, in the direction of the riot. "Good lord, but I think it was started with muggle-baiting. It started in one place, and moved outwards."

Harry nodded slowly, and they continue as they were going. Alice huffed unhappily, and then met Lily's eyes. Lily nodded slowly, and pulled Nanna and Melanie closer. Alice addressed Harry and Neville.

"Boys, please. We need you to go check on Ron and Hermione and the others. We can't move fast enough, and we want these three to be alright. I'm trusting you with this. Please."

Harry nodded quickly, feeling excitement thrill through him mixed with dread. Neville looked from his mother to Lily and then Harry and sighed, nodding slowly. Harry looked over at him and both of them took off running, Harry in the lead. He spared a wish for his broom, but brushed it aside quickly, keeping his eyes peeled for trees or other people fleeing the riot that sounded ever closer as he ran towards where Ron and Hermione should be. Feeling a spark of inspiration, he pulled up and checked on Neville, who was keeping up just fine; Harry remembered with annoyance the number of times Neville had nearly run him over playing chase with his father, something he thought they still did when Frank was home. Harry quickly pulled out his wand and held it in his hand.

"Point Me, Ron."

The wand shuddered and spun quickly, settled in a direction ahead and to their right. Neville pulled his and quickly spoke, "Point Me, Hermione." Hers was the same, and Neville closed his fist, wielding his wand in preparation for anything, and following as Harry started for where Ron was. They went deeper into the woods, and ran into the others shortly. Ron and Hermione both looked ill. They jumped as Harry and Neville came upon them.

"Harry! What are you doing here?"

Harry jogged over and touched his shoulder. "Looking for you. We heard the riot, got called out of bed. Neville's mother sent us to check up on you and Hermione. Where's everyone else?"

Ron huffed. "We got split. Fred and George should be with Ginny somewhere, but we're stuck out here." Ron's face turned ugly. "We passed Malfoy. Horrid git; threatened Hermione."

Neville muttered something about blood purists and puddles that reminded Harry of Alan in second year. Harry shook it off. "Whatever. Draco's worthless." Harry fell onto Alan's habit of disdaining Draco's heritage. "We need to keep moving out; the riot's coming closer."

Harry began to lead, Neville standing near Ron, and Hermione trying to catch up with Harry to talk. Harry maintained a steady walk that Hermione joined. "Harry, why were they attacking the muggles? They've never done anything."

"Hermione, for a bookworm, you apparently haven't found much of worth." Harry supposed under other circumstances he would've been more patient, but he was currently hearing a lot more of that riot than he wanted to. Finally, though, he took another turn and found a path. Once on it, Neville heaved a large sigh, and Harry went back to Hermione's question with a short apologetic look. "Some wizard's hate muggle-borns; do you really think those would like muggles any better? The war before we were born? That was fought between wizards, one side who believed themselves superior to muggles and muggle-borns, and the others who think no such thing. Those currently playing with muggle-baiting? They were almost undoubtedly on the first side I mentioned."

Hermione looked quiet and scared, and slowly they approached a clearing. Ron wandered in and over to a tree opposite the trail they'd used, smiling with relief.

"We'll hear anyone coming for miles out here." Neville nodded and sank to the ground cross-legged.

Just outside their clearing, someone apparated loudly, and queried, "What's going on?"

Harry jumped to attention with Neville, and then recognized the voice that answered him. "Oh, only a mild riot, Mr. Bagman. It's just off that way."

Bagman spluttered and disapparated, and then two people wandered into the clearing. Harry recognized both, and forced a growl.

"What are you doing here?" Honestly, he was really wondering what Alan and Andrew were doing this far out. They were a long ways from the Salem Sorcerer's School tents. Alan responded to Harry's question with a firm roll of his eyes.

"Getting out of the way of the riot, fool. It's only trampling everything in its way."

"And I suppose you care?" Ron added, standing aggressively. Neville remained seated, but he watched everyone warily, a gesture mimicked by Andrew. Harry paused as he caught sight of Andrew's eyes; they appeared to be glowing white. Harry brushed it off, however, as Alan growled. His response died as someone loudly staggered towards the clearing. Everyone there spun and levelled his or her wand that direction; everyone but Hermione, who, Harry noted, looked panicked. He grabbed her shoulder and pulled her behind him, as Andrew shifted to do something very similar for Alan without being obvious about it.

"Who's there?" Harry called. Silence answered him; whoever had been staggering had stopped moving. Beside him, Andrew growled deep in his throat; the sound made Harry's joints ache for a moment before he brushed it off.

"Someone's there." Andrew whispered. Harry didn't doubt him.

Finally, someone spoke into the silence, a voice completely unafraid, voicing what must have been a spell.

"Morsmorde."

Harry felt fear when Alan flinched and immediately looked to the sky. Andrew's gaze seemed to almost sharpen as green light spilled from the trees and rose above them to hang in the sky. Harry's heart tightened as he recognized the form of a glittering green skull with a snake in place of a tongue. Whoever had just cast that had been a Death Eater. Instantly, Harry reacted.

"Stupefy, Impedimenta!" He sent both spells into the trees where the person must have been. They were followed by more spells from the others, barring Ron and Hermione. Whether they hit anyone or not, the possible sound was drowned out as the woods around them erupted in screams of terror. Harry checked that Hermione was between him and the tree, and Neville had stood, facing the opposite direction. Hermione was staring at the sky, horrified, and Harry was cursing himself in every way he could think of. Alan and Andrew were both crouched slightly, watching the woods in equal fervour.

Twenty pops announced the arrival of the ministry wizards. Harry had considered trying to talk first; upon seeing every wand trained upon them, Harry opted instead to scream "Duck!" and pull Hermione and Ron down with him. The others didn't need telling twice.

"Stupefy!" Each wizard roared. The lights flew towards them, and crossed over their heads. Some hit the tree behind them; others went on to nearly hit the wizards on the far side of their circle.

"Stop! Stop, goddamn you, that's my son!"

Harry had never been happier to hear his father's voice. He lifted his head, and smiled as the wizard before him lowered his wand, and footsteps behind him made him spin over and raise his own until he saw the approaching man to be his father. Harry smiled weakly as James came over and pulled him close.

"Merlin, Harry what are you doing over here? I thought you were with your mother!"

"She was worried about Ron and Hermione. Dad, whoever conjured that was in the woods over there!" Harry insisted, pointed where he and the others had shot their spells. "We heard him come up and cast the spell, and we sent some spells after him, but I don't know if we got him."

James immediately stiffened, and he let Harry go to run into the forest, calling Sirius and Frank after him and getting Remus and several others as well. While they left, other ministry officials approached the group. Immediately, Alan and Andrew slipped to the side of the others, and Harry faced the ministry head-on, stepping forward to make himself stand out.

"What's going on, who cast that?" Harry asked immediately. "He was over there, have you got him yet?"

"Enough." A stiff-backed, older man in a suit snapped. "Which of you did it? Which of you conjured the Dark Mark?"

Harry stiffened immediately. Neville snapped, "Excuse me? What makes you think something so hare-brained as that?"

"Don't lie to me! You were discovered at the scene of the crime!"

"Mr. Crouch, stop accusing children!" Someone hissed. "They no more know how to cast the Dark Mark than they know how to use Unforgivables!"

Harry half-wished they hadn't said that, although it was certainly keeping to the truth. Harry did know quite a bit about both; James believed in him being educated against what he'd fought, and what Harry might one-day fight, following Dumbledore's belief the Dark Lord wasn't fully gone.

"Mr. Crouch," One of the women present had lowered her wand, and whispered, "They're kids, Mr. Crouch, they can't have done anything …" Several people nodded, but Mr. Crouch was stubborn, and glared down at them. Hermione finally spoke up,

"Sir, we didn't do it. The person who cast it was over there, in the woods. He spoke an incantation …"

"Over there, eh?" Mr. Crouch looked slightly mad, then, and glared once more, "Spoke an incantation? You seem remarkably well-informed, young miss, about how the Dark Mark works."

"With all due respect, Mr. Crouch," Neville snapped, "I think that basis would cover most spells we know from tickling charms to Unforgivables, especially considering that we're all of fourteen."

Mr. Crouch glared once more, but a shout went up from in the woods, and he turned. James and the others returned, a brown-haired man holding a small form in his arms. It took Harry a moment to realize it was a house elf, and not just any house elf. Harry took a short look and then recognized the neat little tea towel the elf was wearing. It was the elf from the top box.

Harry noticed several glances towards Mr. Crouch and, upon looking, found him wearing an expression of utmost distaste and shock. "Impossible." Crouch snarled, before stalking past the others and stomping his way into the bush. James watched him go, and then tilted his head. Remus immediately slipped off to the side to follow him; Harry watched him go and heard a whispered word behind him: apparently Andrew had watched him leave as well. The brown-haired man with the elf hardly seemed to notice. Instead, he murmured,

"Bit embarrassing. Barty Crouch's house elf … going off like that, it's just a little bit of a sting."

Fortunately Hermione's snort went unnoticed.

"Come off it, Amos." Arthur returned, quietly. "You don't seriously think it was the elf? The Dark Mark is a wizard's sign. It requires a wand."

"Yeah, and she had a wand."

"What?" Arthur started. James was listening intently, but Harry noticed he was covertly watching the faces of Harry and his group. He gave a small wink when he noticed Harry watching him, but didn't look away. Harry returned to listening to Arthur, who was looking at the wand Amos had handed over.

"Had it in her hand. 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."

Harry pressed against Hermione's arm as a warning that her hiss should not become anything more pronounced.

Another pop announced the return of Bagman, who stumbled, looking breathless and disoriented, and then, upon looking up, goggled at the sky. "The Dark Mark!" He gasped. "Who did this? Did you get them? Barty, what's going on?"

Mr. Crouch had returned empty handed. Harry was startled to see Remus already back quite comfortably, but his expression was one Harry had never thought to see on the easy-going man. He looked dark and troubled behind a mask of ice. Nobody else appeared to notice beyond those who knew him: James had on his business face, and Sirius was appearing purposefully nonchalant rather than naturally so.

Bagman especially noticed nothing. Harry cynically thought he must have been a Gryffindor: anything else would have reacted to the expressions of those around him. "Barty, where have you been? Why weren't you at the match; your elf was saving you a seat – Gulping Gargoyles!" Apparently Bagman had just noticed Winky. "What happened?"

"I've been busy, Ludo, and my elf has been stunned." Barty dryly commented.

"Stunned? By you lot, you mean? But what …" Bagman looked between the sky, Winky, and Mr. Crouch and gaped. "No! Winky? Conjure the Dark Mark? She wouldn't know how! She'd need a wand to start!"

"And she had one." Said Amos. "I found her holding it, Ludo. If it's all right with you, Mr. Crouch, I think we should hear what she has to say for herself."

Crouch said nothing, and Amos – who Harry could only presume was Amos Diggory – took that for assent, casting Ennervate upon Winky. Harry noticed from the corner of his eyes Remus whispering quickly into his father's ear. James was listening with a stony mask.

Winky woke slowly, in a bemused sort of fashion. Upon finding herself surrounded by wizard's she slowly fixed upon Mr. Diggory's shoes and then brought her gaze up to his eyes, and then, beyond that, to the great green skull resting in the air. Harry began to wonder why no one had dismissed the spell, and then he was brought back by Winky's great, terrified sobs.

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

Winky began to rock back and forth, watching Mr. Diggory in a terrified sort of daze.

"As you see here, someone has brought forth the Dark Mark. You were discovered moments later right beneath it. An explanation, please."

"I – I – I is not doing it, sir! I is not knowing how!"

"You were found with a wand in your hand!" Barked Mr. Diggory, brandishing it in front of her. The wand was illuminated in the green light of the Dark Mark, and Hermione gasped.

"That's mine!"

Harry looked back at her in surprise and a little irritation. She could have picked a better time!

"Excuse me?" Mr. Diggory asked. "Why is it not in your possession, Miss?"

"I lost it, sir. I don't know when. It was sometime between the match and now, and I was horrified. How did it get here?"

Mr. Diggory watched her curiously. "I wonder the same. Perhaps you are merely avoiding blame."

Harry rolled his eyes determinedly. "Oh, yes. I'm sure the Death Eaters would be highly insulted by you presuming a muggleborn would cast their mark." He drawled sarcastically. Half the officials present gasped in horror, while those who knew him or his father either rolled their eyes or laughed. Mr. Diggory's eyes popped for several long moments before he jerked his jaw shut and swallowed.

"Er, alright." He turned back to addressing Winky and his face became hard once more. "You found this wand, elf? Picked it up and thought you'd have a little fun with it?"

"I is not doing magic with it, sir!" Winky sobbed. "I is – I is – I is just picking it up. I is not making the Dark Mark, sir, I is not knowing how!"

"It wasn't her!" Hermione put in. "Winky has a tiny little voice."

Neville nodded in turn. "Unless she knows some kind of voice changing spell, it can't have been Winky. The person casting had a male voice, deep and full. And somehow, I doubt any of Mr. Crouch's elves would know such spells, either the Dark Mark or the voice-changer."

Frank smiled brightly at his son, and Mr. Diggory looked put out once more. He stood and cleared his throat. "Well, we'll know soon enough. There is a simple spell for this." He placed his wand tip against Hermione's and spoke, "Prior Incantato."

A gigantic serpent-tongued skull erupted from the point where the wands met, a mere shadow of the light above.

"Deletrius." Mr. Diggory finished. The smoky shadow blew apart swiftly. Mr. Diggory looked down at Winky in a savage sort of triumph. The expression made Harry feel sick. Why was he so insistent on it being Winky? "You've been caught red-handed elf! The guilty wand in your hand!"

"Amos, really." James drawled. "How many wizards know how to do that spell? How many aren't Death Eaters?"

"Perhaps Amos is suggesting that I routinely teach my servants to conjure the Dark Mark?" Mr. Crouch sneered.

A deep silence reigned; save for a small snigger from someone Harry strongly suspected was Alan.

"No, not in the least, sir …" Mr. Diggory murmured.

"You have now come very close to accusing the two people in this clearing least likely to conjure that Mark!" Crouch snapped. "A muggleborn, and myself! Next I suppose you'll accuse young Mr. Potter?"

Mr. Diggory opened and closed his mouth a few times before Mr. Crouch continued,

"And I suppose you don't remember the many proofs I've given of my opinion of those Arts and those that practice them?" Mr. Crouch's eyes were bulging unpleasantly.

Mr. Diggory was white beneath his beard. "Of course, sir, I never meant to imply …"

"If you accuse my elf, you accuse me! Where else could she have learned it?"

"Your son." James snapped.

Mr. Crouch turned to Harry's father with a deadly look in his eyes. "My son is dead."

Dead silence reigned, and Harry remembered unpleasantly the trial his father had several times complained about, where Mr. Crouch sentenced his own son to Azkaban for being a fanatically loyal Death Eater. Many attributed that trial to the end of Mr. Crouch's forward motion, which culminated in his son's death in Azkaban and his wife's shortly thereafter.

Mr. Weasley coughed lightly. "If Winky did not do the spell-casting, then she must have found the wand after the caster tossed it aside. Winky, did you see the man who had used this wand before you found it?"

Winky trembled violently, looking from Mr. Weasley, to Mr. Bagman, and then to Mr. Crouch. "I is seeing no one, sir. No one."

Mr. Crouch straightened. "Amos." He spoke remarkably calmly for his earlier fervour, even though he still bit out the words. "I know that in the ordinary course of events you would take her into your department to question her. I ask you, however, to allow me to deal with her."

Mr. Diggory clearly didn't think much of this suggestion, but Mr. Crouch was a very powerful man he couldn't afford to offend. Harry's father, however, stepped in.

"Mr. Crouch, the rules are supposed to be followed. Winky may have seen something she doesn't think important, and should indeed be questioned properly."

Mr. Crouch turned to look directly at James. His stance suggested it was not pleasant, but Harry's father didn't flinch. "Is there anyone else in the clearing who would be worth suspicion?" Mr. Crouch bit out. He turned and glanced around before looking past Harry. Harry glanced back and felt his stomach sink. Mr. Crouch was looking directly at Alan and Andrew. "You two. Your names, please?" His voice was tight, and neither one of the boys looked willing to speak up. Harry looked straight at Alan, who sighed.

"Alan Prince." He bit out. "And Andrew Mayfair."

"Americans." Mr. Crouch snapped. "But, Mr. Prince, would your father happen to be British?"

Harry knew exactly what he was getting at. Alan had finally started to grow, and with his lank dark hair and prominent features – Snape's nose was quite hereditary – he was starting to strongly resemble his father, particularly now that he was gangly. Alan, however, gave Crouch a look that strongly suggested he was below him. Harry stifled a smile.

"I don't see how that is relevant. You're asking about the Dark Mark, not bloodlines. I think they are highly unrelated." He pointed out as though Mr. Crouch had not noticed it. It wasn't the smartest thing Harry could imagine doing, but it was certainly amusing.

Mr. Crouch glared. "I suspect, then, that we should perhaps follow protocol and see about proper questioning for you and your friend."

Alan growled as the ministry officials who happened to agree stepped forward. One grasped Alan's arm, the other holding onto Andrew. Andrew was looking determinedly at the ground, and Mr. Diggory apparently noticed this.

"Mr. Mayfair, is there a reason you seem more interested in the grass than what is going on?"

"Not really, no." Andrew lightly observed, still looking down. His words were slightly slurred. Mr. Diggory grabbed his chin to force him to look up, and Andrew pulled out of his grip, his lips pressed tightly shut. It didn't help; his eyes were glowing slightly, and his pull was too strong; he tore out of their grasp with ease. Mr. Diggory gasped and backed up quickly.

"Vampire!" He screamed, and Harry swore. The man holding Andrew dug in as he tried to pull aside, and Alan was pulled away before he could do anything. Ron grabbed Hermione to drag her off to the far side, Neville following reluctantly. Harry was pushed down, but didn't run; he watched as his father and the others move forward towards where Andrew was panicking. Finally, Andrew screamed. It wasn't human; there was no way it was. The sound reverberated in Harry's skull, and without a single sound, another figure entered the clearing, tossing a spell his father's direction and throwing him and his friends off their feet. Andrew was shortly pulled from the man holding him, who apparently wasn't willing to fight with what was clearly an old vampire. Andrew collapsed against his saviour, trembling. The vampire grimaced, and touched his hand into his pocket, activating something.

Within the minute, a dozen more people apparated in more normally, with sound announcing them. In that time, the ministry had picked itself up, several people looking on with horrible expressions. Harry hadn't stood, so as not to draw attention to himself. He was surprised to recognize some of those who appeared: Geoffrey Alfaerus, the woman from Salem Witch's Institute, the dirty blonde he suspected was Velorian, the Quintelyuvs and Geoffrey's brother. The others he was sure he'd seen around the American camps. Velorian walked over to the vampire and Andrew without a second thought.

"Andrew, are you all right? What happened?"

"I would presume the damn British bigots noticed he was a vampire." The older vampire drawled. Andrew nodded slowly. "Clearly, they freaked out and tried to hurt him." The man threw a glare at James, and Harry noticed his eyes were gleaming as well, and his speech was slurred slightly. The look made it clear: his fangs gleamed in the light of the Dark Mark and his eyes glowed white, much as Andrew's had.

Velorian said something that would get Harry's mouth washed out if he tried it. "I would like to ask you idiots why you tried that?" Velorian called out. Geoffrey interrupted him.

"Where's Alan? He was supposed to be with Andrew."

Andrew pointed off to the side and Geoffrey glared their way. A short scuffle occurred, and Alan ran out of it quickly. Mr. Crouch picked himself up and stalked over, giving the American's a distasteful look.

"I'm. Mr. Crouch."

"Unfortunately, I knew that already." Geoffrey snapped bitterly. "I'm Geoffrey Alfaerus and that was my nephew you were assaulting and his foster brother. Please tell me why."

"They are under this Mark. They are suspects in who might have cast it."

Harry had a grand view of Geoffrey and Velorian's expressions. It was quite the good seat as they both rolled their eyes in synch. Geoffrey continued. "Alright. Were you anywhere near the riot earlier?" Geoffrey emphasized this by shifting the long item in his hands. It took Harry a moment to make a tentative guess that it was a gun. "Yeah, well, we were dealing with that. I can't keep an eye on minors when I'm waving a fully automatic weapon around trying to get fucked up muggle-baiters to listen to reason. Clearly, since I was telling them off for being idiots, the boys I raised wouldn't be playing around with Voldemort propaganda. Oh, Merlin, Mary, and Mordred, will you grow up? It's a goddamn name." Geoffrey snarled as several people nearby flinched. "Fucking British pussies. First you accuse a bunch of fourteen-year-olds of Dark Magic, and then you attack one of them and flinch at a fucking name. The gall you fucktards have to be so hypocritical sickens me. Look, I don't teach my kids that shit. Lie off already and get your head out of your collective ass. Any more objections?"

One of the more plucky people present spoke up, "But he's a vampire!"

"And you're a fucking British bigot, but I'm not allowed to kill you, am I?" Velorian snarled. "That vampire's also my son. Go take you wand, your wife and your prejudice, find a hole that's large enough for your ego, and shove yourself down it. Koreol, get me out of this place. I'm suffocating in the centuries old box they all live in."

The older vampire smiled thinly, and nodded to Geoffrey before performing what Harry presumed to be completely silent apparation and left, Velorian apparating after with the customary pop. Geoffrey stared after them and gently waved a hand. Several others apparated away, leaving only the Quintelyuvs, his wife, Geoffrey himself, and his brother. All of them were wielding guns. Geoffrey fixed Mr. Crouch with a firm stare.

"I do not have the patience for this. You have my word neither would use that damn spell; I doubt they even know it. You do not need to try to pin it on them. Is there anything else you back-ass-wards people need help with?"

"There is nothing I can think of a scruffy American like you aiding, no." Crouch bit out, sounding like the words were drawn from him through torture.

"However, I would appreciate your help." James spoke up. Harry thought it a little presumptuous of him, but felt that Geoffrey could certainly use his words well enough to put him in his place if he so chose. Honestly, Harry was half-eager to see it happen. It didn't, though. Something better did.

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing! I hope you enjoy this chapter as well. Feel free to comment and critique as you see fit, and the next chapter is once again in two weeks, which would be the 15th of November. Thank you all!

Yes, I acknowledge there is rather thick language in the last, but that's how they speak. If you are offended, my apologies, but I will not change it. As with canon, things will be getting darker from here on out in language and action. It certainly won't stop being funny, but it will dip down at times. Keep it in mind, and while I hope you will not leave for offence, I can't and won't stop you. Chances are good that by the time it's the end of fourth year, I will up the rating. Just giving a warning.

Fire & Napalm