Where did they come from?!
A shove bounced him off green-and-gold patterned canvas. Rob kept his feet with difficulty.
Forget where they came from – get the hell out of the way!
Easier said than done. He couldn't see; only the flickering of fires illuminated the drunken mob. A brilliant flash of green light made him flinch.
"Hah! Look at 'em dance!"
"- drink and drink and fight!"
He had to get out of here. And how are you going to do that? Yell, 'stop the mob, I want to get off!'? Something slammed against him; another wizard, breath an alcoholic haze.
Bodies pressed tight, dragging him along with the crowd. Following after the Death Eaters. I just had to chase after Gawain and Travers when the call came in. Standing still was not a possibility; Rob tried to edge out of the central flow of people. He had to slam past bodies to force himself away from the mainstream of the out-of-control crowd.
Laughter roared around him as the female Muggle was flipped, her nightgown sliding down. Hazel eyes caught on the limp limbs, the motionless face. That's – not right. What did they do to them?
Muggles, in the grip of drunk – and some not-so-drunk – wizards.
Not wizards. Death Eaters. Flames crackled high in the night; Rob shuddered. Masks, hoods and robes that he hadn't seen, for all the scares and imitators in the past twelve years, since the full rise of Voldemort.
Above, the littlest Muggle child was violently spinning, like a top. Rob fought the urge to cast a spell. Right. Try to stop the mob. If you even had the power to be more than an annoyance to so many, they'd turn on you. It was a bad way to die.
The child's head flopped limply. He was only a little bigger than Rob's own daughter. I'm going to be sick.
Something tangled his feet; the only reason he didn't go down to be trampled was that flesh pressed too thickly around him to let him fall. Got to get –
Someone grabbed his arm, yanked.
Oh no oh god help – A flare of light illuminated the face cast in shadow; the rush of relief left him light-headed. "Gawain!"
Boom!
Rob looked up from his crouch, lowering his arms against the sudden wave of heat-light-noise. The Auror at his side rose as well, a small shield throwing sparks as debris bounced off it.
A tent was blasted out of the way; the tail end of the mob rushed through the gap created. He started for crumpled canvas and tangled ropes. My god, was anyone inside?
Fingers gripped his shoulder, hauling him back. "Wait a minute, Rob." The voice raised to a deafening bellow, audible even over the mob's roaring laughter. "Lin, Hawlsey! Check the tent! I want Unit Seven at the front! We need to cut off the head of the mob – Four and Nine on the right, Five and Three on the left flank! Unit Two with me! GO!"
Grim-faced figures that he hadn't even noticed darted into the weirdly-lit night. Three men came forward – patches discreetly sewn on their robes showed two crossed wands over a silver shield. Unit Two, I guess –
"We need to get the Muggles down," Gawain snapped, following the tail end of the mob. Rob jogged to keep up with the taller man's strides. "Suggestions?"
"Do it quickly," muttered the shortest, with a round face and the beginnings of a beard bristling his chin. He kept one hand on his wand, and there was little bit of blood smearing his forehead, shining darkly in the firelight.
"Helpful suggestions." No patience in that voice.
"Can you contain the mob?" Rob needed to know. Wand, check. Spell? Nothing that would even slow them down, but that wouldn't stop him from trying.
"No," said a new voice. The reporter blinked, started. Black? He'd seen the man before the trial, but the difference now was astounding. "There's too many. We have to aim for the Death Eaters."
"And the Muggles?" Gawain snapped. Something nearby exploded; they all ducked. "I need answers – now!"
A controlled sigh. "The Muggles are most likely already dead."
"You don't know that!" The third man – Rob looked closer, and suddenly recognized Ben Travers, the Auror he'd met earlier. The man looked awful, scratched and worn.
The level stare Black gave them made Rob wonder how anyone had thought the man could be insane. And in the same breath, he knew. Too intense. "Take their fun away, and they'll know the jig is up. They'll scatter. So the only way's to get them and the Muggles at the same time."
"And how would you suggest we do that?" Gawain looked ready to kill someone. Death Eaters, I hope.
Pale eyes scanned for only a moment. "They're spread thin through the tents. Attack on the sides; it will funnel the Death Eaters toward the front and back of the mob."
"Get the Muggles first," added Travers. "We don't even need to get them down – just immobilize them so they don't fall."
"Good. Open channel, did everyone hear that?"
The voices were coming from the patch on their robes.
"Aye!"
"Yes."
"On three, Gawain?"
"One, two, -"
"Immobilus!" Rob added his own voice to the many that shouted out from all sides of the mob. Limp bodies froze; for a moment, no one noticed that the Muggles had stopped twitching to the Death Eaters' commands.
Then hell shattered its gates, and came for them.
Rob stumbled back at the violent roar of anger sweeping out from the drunken mass. Oh god oh god spell I need a spell –
"Stay with me!" A steel vise clamped on his arm. Gawain raised his wand. "Incarcerus!" Ropes dragged one figure to the ground - black robes struggled a moment, before being levitated out of the way of trampling feet.
Attacking one-on-one, half the culprits would be gone by the time they got through the mob! Why doesn't he just – another figure slipped, screaming, to be smashed underfoot. Rob didn't hear the incantation, but the man was pulled upright by a jolt of orange light. Confine them, and they'll crush each other to death.
Help them! Spell – he needed a spell! Oh! Death Eaters, though, were too much for him to handle. Rob targeted a particularly raucous woman, howling with laughter and wildly thrusting her wand in the air. "Petrificus Totalus!"
"Liberacorpus!" The four Muggles began to drift toward Travers; on Gawain's other side, bursts of power flashed out toward Death Eaters, dragging black-robed figures from the massive crush.
A jet of green light flew their way; grass pressed muddily against his cheek. Rob risked a look up, to see the three others had hit the ground as well.
"Aurors!"
Every muscle seized; adrenaline pounded. Oh, we're in for it now –
Suddenly everyone was scattering; a wave of figures rushing toward them and they weren't going to stop –
"Protego-ankh!"
Light blazed; someone swore, foully.
What the –
Blinking spots from his vision, Rob stared at the sheen of white-gold light that had sprung into being before them. A shield? He's heard the charm, but –
A body slipped past. Then another, and another.
The same voice that had raised the shield hissed another spell. "Aencessi."
Nothing happened. Rob took a deep breath, eyes adjusting as the shield faded to invisibility and bodies still rushed by. He could see the extent of the shield, if he looked for the odd glittering of light – encompassing three Aurors, a reporter, and four unconscious Muggles. They were almost completely enveloped in the protective bubble.
"Cast," came the order.
But – that's a shield, you can't cast through a shield –
Gawain aimed. "Cunctatus!" Movement of those fleeing behind them slowed dramatically.
Okay then. Breath. "Petrificus Totalis!" Another look, to see more figures slipping away from the roiling mass of people. "Petrificus Totalis! Petrificus Totalis!" Rob didn't give a damn about originality. If it's dumb and it works – keep it simple!
Travers hissed. "Arcero!" Purple strands flew from the tip of fourteen inches of maple, forming a net that spun lazily through the sky. And fell, dragging down eight figures trying to sneak around one of the few tents still standing.
The sweeping flow of people had fallen to a trickle, and the explosions had stopped some time ago. For the first time since he had left the Irish Quidditch Team's tent, Rob could breathe. He stood from his crouch, smoke tearing his vision. Is it . . . over?
Blur of motion, toward –
"Hold your spells!" Gawain lowered his wand; only then did Rob see the patches marking out otherwise innocuous robes. Aurors. "Report."
"We have no casualties, sir," came the woman's precise words. "Units Four and Five went to the front, Nine and Three came to the back after the flanks executed the pincer and cut the mob in half. No numbers yet on civilian casualties or those apprehended."
It's over. Knees trembled, his only warning before they gave and his butt hit dirt. Cold. Rob couldn't stop shivering.
"What about the Muggles?" Gawain was over by Travers, now, checking the family that had been the focus of the riot. God, I hope they're alright –
"They're dead."
His mind – froze.
"And it looks like they've been that way for awhile."
Dead – for awhile? His stomach heaved. Rob only just turned away before he was bringing back up everything he'd eaten that day, struggling to be quiet. Oh, god. Playing with corpses – he couldn't get the sight of the youngest one out of his mind. Just a baby –
Warm hands, soothing on his back. Rob shuddered, mustering up the energy to spit. Someone held a cup of water to his lips; he looked up into a woman's concerned face. "Thank you."
"First riot?" The woman gave him an encouraging smile; he couldn't see the Muggles beyond her. Knew that she'd moved there on purpose. Thank you.
Rob nodded, glancing up. Blinked, as sparkles appeared behind the woman's head, and felt hazel eyes widen as she shifted.
The Dark Mark.
"Harry," breathed a quiet voice. The same one which had pulled up that strange shield – Rob looked. Sirius Black strode to Gawain's side, every movement full of purpose. "Robard. My godson – I have to -"
The Head of Aurors nodded brusquely. "Go."
Air rushed into the empty space where the man had stood with a puff.
Travers gave a hard look to Head of the Aurors. "Gawain?"
"The boy's here – and so are Death Eaters. Tell me he's not a target, and you'd be lying."
The body of the Muggle toddler was proof the Death Eaters would stop at nothing tonight. The Boy Who Lived . . . crazed as they were tonight, they would attack him if they found him. And miracle or not, he was just a kid.
"Anne."
The woman before him half-turned. "Gawain?"
"I need some numbers." Casualties, captured. Rob would have those numbers right after Gawain did. Shudders fought free of muscles to shake the world around him.
"I'm on it."
Rob was left huddled on the ground, with no place for his eyes to go but to the bodies of the man, woman, and two children. Terrified faces. No blood. The Killing Curse. Bile was swallowed back; hazel eyes slipped shut. Sound went away.
God.
A little child was sobbing. "Mommeee! Mommy, where are you!"
"Oof!" Fred hit into her, then shoved back at the person who'd knocked into him.
"This way." The glow of Professor Lupin's wand showed that there were few people actually around them, though they could hear others calling frantically through the trees. It's cold. Ginny shuddered in her jacket, gripping her brothers' hands tightly. I want to go home -
"Ahhh!"
She couldn't hold back a scream at the shout, slamming into Fred. George hit her, and they all staggered forward but somehow didn't fall. Ginny breathed around her heart, which was slamming against the back of her throat.
"What happened?" Hermione sounded worried.
"Tripped over a tree root." Ron was pulling himself up off the ground, Professor Lupin scanning the small clearing they were in with care. They'd moved off the small path that was crowded with people.
"Well, with feet that size, hard not to," came a drawling voice from behind them.
"Draco," Professor Lupin cut off whatever Ron was about to say. Good thing too, because Mum would wash his mouth out. She could tell from the look on his face Ron didn't care. The Professor's eyes narrowed. "Are you alone?"
A shrug was his answer. "More or less, Professor."
Ginny blinked. Respect? From Malfoy? That was . . . weird.
"You might want to move along," Malfoy said coldly. "You don't want her spotted." He nodded at Hermione.
Ka-Boom!
The twins had arms around her; Ginny felt her heart slide back down to where it was supposed to be. The blast was followed by a flash of green light from the campsite, lighting up the trees around them.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione asked defiantly. I really want to go home. Ginny tried to peer around Fred, but George wouldn't let go of her arm.
"Draco?" Professor Lupin's voice was so calm.
"They're after Muggles, and they're moving this way." She saw him glance pointedly at Hermione. Fred and George bristled.
He really is nasty. Ron was right!
"Hermione's a witch," Harry snarled.
The blond boy looked almost relaxed, leaning against a tree across the clearing. How can he even be like that? He's awful. "Have it your way, Potter. But if you think they can't spot a Muggle-born, stay where you are."
Ron looked as if he was only just keeping a hold on his tongue.
Why aren't Fred and George – she looked up, and had her answer. The twins weren't paying any attention to what was going on inside the clearing; they were focused on the people running back and forth through the trees, and muttering quietly to one another. What are they –
"Professor Lupin," they said at once. She blinked at the eerie echo.
"Yes?"
Ginny was deposited with Hermione as the twins moved to the center of the clearing, muttering lowly to Professor Lupin. The bang that came from beyond the trees then was the loudest of anything they had heard; Ginny clapped hands to her head. I just want to go home! Fred and George were her brothers, but she wished Bill or Charlie, or even Percy, was there too.
Over the ringing in her ears, she could hear screams coming from the forest around them.
"Scare easily," Malfoy muttered in disgust. The boy's whole body was pointed and thin, and Ginny thought he was just as mean as her brothers had said. She was scared – there was a mob out there! Blue eyes sneered over them all. "I suppose your daddy told you all to hide. What's he up to – out saving the Muggles?"
"Where're your parents?" Harry snapped. "Out there wearing masks, are they?"
They're Death Eaters? But Mr. Malfoy was a School Governor. That couldn't possibly be! Could it?
"If they were, I wouldn't be likely to tell you, would I, Potter?" He looks like he doesn't care about anything – not that his parents are Death Eaters, not about the mob –
"Quiet." Professor Lupin didn't raise his voice, but Ginny shivered to hear it. There was something fierce – almost – wild in the word; and he was angry. "I want you all to gather in the center of the clearing. You too, Draco."
Slinking in the shadows, the boy paused. "Professor -"
"Now."
They went.
Clumped together, Ginny felt a hand slip into hers. Hermione smiled encouragingly.
"I'll bet you anything his dad is one of that masked lot!" Ron whispered hotly.
He can hear you, Ron. Be quiet! A covert glance showed Malfoy gripping his wand. Apple wood trembled under her own fingers.
"Well, with any luck, the Ministry will catch them!" Hermione said fervently. Something shrieked outside the clearing. But they were all inside, and maybe safe – except –
What are they doing?
Fred touched the tip of his wand to George's. "Abscondemus et divertus vidus." Then, they touched their wands to the ground, and began to draw a large circle.
"What is that?"
Hermione was staring thoughtfully. "Looks like a boundary for a large-scale casting. Especially because the spell was a chanted phrase, and not a single word -"
"Right then," Fred whispered, dusting off his hands as George stood straight. "We should be good -"
"- for now. But it doesn't block sound, so -"
"- keep quiet."
What is it? But no one was talking, so she guessed she'd have to wait to find out. But they weren't very deep in the forest, which she supposed was a good thing. If we'd gotten lost – separated –
Luckily, no one was headed toward them. In fact, everyone seemed to be running by and around the clearing without stopping at all. That's . . . weird. "What did you do?"
"Shhh, Ginny." George's hand was hovering over her mouth.
"But -" It descended, flesh absorbing the words.
Something rustled, very close. Bushes! A sudden thought slammed her heart into overdrive. We didn't douse our lights! They can see us!
Again, movement stirred the underbrush. Leaves slipped to the grass. "Madame Maxime?" Female, a bit older than she was. "Est-ce que quelqu'un est là ?" The curvy form passed within inches of the barrier, not seeing it at all. What happens if someone crosses it? It wasn't impenetrable . . . The noise of a person pushing through the forest drifted away. It's awfully quiet. Even the mob seemed to have died down.
"Beauxbatons," Hermione muttered.
Ron snorted. "Bless you."
"Sorry?" whispered Harry.
"She must go to Beauxbatons. You know . . . Beauxbatons Academy of Magic . . . I read about it in -"
"Shut up, Granger!" Malfoy's eyes looked like they never stopped moving, back and forth through the clearing. Ginny barely heard the words, but the venom hissed out at all of them, slapping her in the face.
"You watch your mouth!" Ron spat.
"Unless you want to bring them right to us, you'll shut up too, Weasley," Malfoy snarled back, still quiet. "What makes you think that's all of them?" He's right. Fear thrilled in every vein.
"You -"
Harry's hand clamped on her brother's arm; a sharp look had Ron swallowing his words in thwarted, furious silence.
The mob was still out there; noises of shouts and spells were faint but present. Figures moved beyond the trees – and a few were still suspended, blocked partially from sight by trunks.
"Those poor Muggles. What if they can't get them down?" Ginny shivered, looking to her brothers.
"They will," Fred muttered quietly.
"They'll find a way," George nodded. "And we'll hear every detail from Percy until we're sick of it!"
"Immobilus!" It was far off, brought to them by many voices shouting at once. Suddenly the mob was roiling, moving, exploding with magic and motion and noise. Where are the Muggles? I can't see -
But spells were ricocheting back and forth, the battle one of flashing lights and bangs that carried deep into the wood.
"What's going on?"
"Move over!"
"I can't see -"
Dark robes scattered in every direction. Her voice was almost a scream. "They're coming this way!"
"Quiet, now!" Professor Lupin's face was tight with concentration; he was turning his head, this way and that, as if hearing something. Ginny strained in the silence. What? What is it – but her heartbeat was so loud, slamming in her ears.
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!"
He's here.
What other reason could there be? The riot had caused enough chaos to scatter the defending forces, stretching them thin. If something were to happen now, the Aurors would be worse than ineffective – they'd be useless.
And there was only one real reason for Voldemort to attack during the Cup.
Harry.
Branches tangled hair and robes, reaching for him. Sirius had Apparated deep into the wood, hoping that he would find Remus and Harry while searching for the source of the Dark Mark. Instead, I've gotten a group of Veela and their admirers, one whimpering house-elf, and dozens of panicked parents. At least the latter were banding together, searching methodically through the forest for their children and lost family members.
Or as methodically as they can, in the dark.
His own wand was unlit – why, Sirius couldn't say. Aspen gleamed whitely nonetheless, and Azkaban instincts were jangling insistently. Danger. Close.
I know. Every nerve was waiting, with calm readiness that had lasted years on the island prison. A few minutes, hours even, was less than nothing.
Quiet was near impossible, pushing through the underbrush. But the spell had come from this direction; and it was leading him closer to the outermost edges of the forest.
Snap.
Sirius slowed every muscle to absolute stillness. Air sped silently through his lungs; wand at the ready, he crept toward the noise.
"My Lord. We should leave."
I know that voice. Sirius frowned. I know I know that voice . . . Which he shouldn't. Thirteen years locked away from the world, frozen in moments of the past while the outside world turned on. People he had known had moved on, to other lives or even death. The world had changed.
"Soon, my faithful servant, soon." A snake's hiss, overlying screams of the damned. Voldemort.
And no more than three meters away.
Something was moving. Behind –
Bare whisper, but the eyes were steady. "Sirius."
He lowered his wand from Remus' heart, thanking Merlin for all the training that taught him never to cast until he was sure of his target. He's alone. "Harry?"
The wolf peered from his friend's eyes for just an instant, protective and fierce. Remus' head jerked back, the direction he'd come from. He'd never leave Harry alone. He's with Ron and Hermione, at least.
But Death Eaters had escaped the mob – No. Put it aside. He couldn't think of that now. The biggest threat was just around the other side of the bark pressed into his back. Sirius risked two words, knowing the wolf's ears would hear even if his couldn't. "Voldemort. Here."
Remus' eyes narrowed. A sound very like a soft growl vibrated the air between them.
"My Lord?" The voice again, pricking at his memory.
"Yes."
Not a request. A confirmation? Realization blasted all thought away; Sirius held up a finger. One, two –
One figure, standing short and stout in black robes before the second. The taller man had his back to them, white fingers caressing thirteen inches of yew.
"Caroflagro!" Remus snapped. The smaller figure screamed; Voldemort turned.
"Osbatuo!" The jet of light snapped from the white aspen tip – slamming through empty space to rip thick chunks of bark from a fat trunk. Son of a – The tall figure was nowhere to be seen. "Scrutor!"
Nothing. He Disapparated. Voldemort's gone.
The man in black robes had stopped screaming now, panting in pain against the sparse grass. The coast was clear. Sirius darted forward to kick the dropped wand out of reach. Remus never left his side.
"Who are you?" The wolf was in every word, growling through Remus' voice.
A trembling hand groped at the ground; agonized groans formed a continuous undercurrent of tortured sound. The hand slid over dirt, cloth –
Cloth! "No!"
Dirt flew in their faces. Patched fabric swept violently over the ground, shielding the wizard from sight. An Invisibility Cloak! No target - they couldn't cast, but the Death Eater's wand was still on the ground, leveling the field. Where is he!
To their right, something forced through the brush, headed away from them at a dead run. He's headed toward the campsites!
Sirius pelted after Remus, the wolf hard on the Death Eater's trail. They got maybe two steps.
Pop! Poppoppoppop!
He didn't register faces, only twenty wands he knew surrounded them on every side. Moony! One shoulder slammed into flesh and let gravity own them both. "DOWN!"
"STUPEFY!"
The air glowed red; bolts of spell-light smashed across the clearing, bouncing off tree trunks and rebounding into darkness – instinct roared to life. "Protego-ankh!"
"Stop!" yelled a voice he recognized. Arthur. "STOP! That's an Auror!"
He heard Remus gasping beside him. No way in hell was he lowering that shield, until –
Silence.
Sirius looked up carefully through the blazing sheen of power. Wands were lowering on every side. Dirt clung as he rolled over. "Finite Incantatem." Arthur Weasley was striding towards them, looking horrified.
Sirius gained his feet. Department heads, Ministry members – and not one Auror in the entire bunch. What have they been doing? On second thought, he didn't want to know.
"Sirius. . . Remus. Are you all right?" Arthur was pale under red hair and freckles. Pale eyes searched, but there were no more redheads in the group. I wonder where the older Weasleys have gotten to.
"Thank you, Arthur," Remus answered.
"Out of the way, Arthur."
Sirius stared, surprised. His voice . . . The two weren't the same, but they were very, very close. Bartemius Crouch. The man's face was taut with anger, the circle of wizards closing in.
Crouch. The man who had condemned him to Azkaban without a trial.
"Which of you did it?" Crouch snapped, sharp eyes darting between them. "Which of you conjured the Dark Mark?"
I'll kill him. "Neither." How was his voice so calm?
"It wasn't us," Remus added. Moony. Reasonable, responsible as ever. Despite the crowd of witches and wizards ready to curse anyone at the slightest hint of a threat. "If you would look -"
Crouch's eyes popped; the wand at his heart had Sirius slowly, slowly, lifting his own. "Do not lie, sir! You have been discovered at the scene of the crime!"
"Barty," a witch in a long woolen dressing gown whispered. "Think who you're talking to, Barty – that's Sirius Black -"
"I know exactly who I'm talking to!" Crouch shouted.
Sirius could hear himself breathe, and didn't blink. If I was what he thinks I am, I would have hexed him five times over by now. Appealing as the idea was, he wouldn't. But I want to. So he spoke to the others, who had lowered their wands, and looked past the threat at his throat. "I arrived here a few minutes ago, from that direction." The majority of wizards watched where he pointed. "I heard two voices speaking, and then Remus arrived. We attacked – and one of the figures Disapparated immediately. The second used an Invisibility Cloak, and ran off that way."
"You didn't give chase?" Crouch was breathing fast. Every wizard in the group was on alert again.
"We were," Sirius retorted coolly. Nudged discarded peachwood with a booted toe. "That was when you arrived. The suspect left this wand, which he probably used to cast the Mark."
"Oh, used this wand, did they?" said Crouch, advancing on him. "Said an incantation, I suppose? You seem very well informed on how the Mark is summoned -"
Voices protested.
"Just hold on one minute -"
"Barty -"
"He's an Auror," snapped Remus.
That is it! His temper was spiraling away from any grasp he might have retained on it thus far. "Quiet," he snapped, sparing only Remus from his ire. "I'm an Auror. Yes, I know how the Mark is summoned – it's part of training." Along with the Unforgivables. And if I didn't know it before Azkaban, I'll never forget it now. Wandless, imprisoned Wizarding criminals had screamed nightmares and spells in futile rages that echoed down stone corridors . . .
"He went that way," Remus moved, one arm indicating a trail of broken branches and flattened brush. A few young, green leaves spotted the forest floor, out of place in summer.
"We're too late," said the witch in the woolen dressing gown, shaking her head. "They'll have run off."
"I don't think so." Amos Diggory's scrubby brown beard waggled as he rubbed his jaw. "Our stunners went right through those trees. . . There's a chance we got them. . . ."
"Amos, be careful!" Arthur's voice was joined by at least three others; Sirius pushed Crouch's wand aside and moved to follow.
"Wait – you -"
"I'm an Auror," Sirius snapped. "I'm going to do my job." Harry. The only thing that kept him from rushing to find his godson was the knowledge that the Death Eater wasn't running in the direction Remus had approached him from. I just hope Moony didn't circle around -
Diggory stepped on something, stumbled, and swore. "Lumos." Greenish skin and a tea towel gleamed under wandlight; the Ministry official shouted excitedly. "Yes! We got them! There's someone here! Unconscious! It's – but – blimey . . ."
It's a house-elf. Skin paled above the ragged beard; Sirius sucked in a breath. He knows whose house-elf it is. And from the look on his face, this isn't going to be good.
The tromping of their feet had spread the fugitive's trail wider through the wood. So much for keeping the scene uncontaminated.
Crouch's voice was shrill with disbelief. "You've got someone? Who? Who is it?"
Heavier, made a little awkward by his burden, Diggory lifted the house-elf and crunched through twigs and leaves back to the clearing. Light faded with him.
"Lumos." Sirius lifted the wand high, letting illumination fall over the entire clearing. It wasn't large. Something's not right. It had been a long time since he'd seen an Invisibility Cloak used; but the quirks of it, the way it made space empty, weren't easily forgotten. Where's the trail? It stops here. Which means -
"- embarrassing, really," Diggory's voice filtered back. Sirius only caught a few words, but it explained Crouch's sudden, strained appearance before him. Barty Crouch's house-elf? A thought slithered through the back of his mind, just barely out of reach.
"Go back and secure the scene," Crouch mumbled through stiff lips.
A black brow hiked. No wand. The suspect didn't Apparate away. Either he was hit, he's hiding, or he slowed to make the trail harder to follow. Not likely, given the spell Remus had hit him with was particularly nasty. And pain usually banished reason and common sense more effectively than any charm.
"Go!"
Not a chance. "After you." Sirius made an attempt at manners, knowing Gawain Robard would give him hell if he complicated the Head of the Aurors' life by starting an incident with the Department Head for International Magical Cooperation. The toothbrush moustache quivered; Crouch sputtered for words.
"Constrixi." The circle of magic dropped off his wand, a coin-like shimmer in the dirt. A twist of will expanded it, locking the scene in a bubble that glinted orange, throwing back flecks of starlight in neon. Brown eyes glared, spitting contempt at him. But the entire area was blocked off – Crouch couldn't go forward.
Pop!
"The Dark Mark!"
Oh, no, don't tell me. . . He'd heard that voice at the match, booming out into the stadium. Ludo Bagman. Rejoining the others, Sirius cast a question at Remus; Moony shrugged.
Bagman was still going on. "- get them? What's going on? Where have you been, Barty? Why weren't you at the match? Your elf was saving you a seat too – gulping gargoyles! What happened to her?"
Crouch was almost trembling with fury. "I've been busy, Ludo." If Crouch's lips were moving, Sirius couldn't see it. The words dropped jerkily into the clearing. "And my elf has been stunned."
"Stunned? By you lot, you mean? But why -" Some kind of comprehension broke over Bagman's round, shiny face. His glance from the Dark Mark to Winky to Crouch gave him away. He thinks the house-elf did it. The elf's presence in the wood was reason enough to question both the house-elf and Crouch later, away from curious ears.
He wasn't going to let this get out of hand. "Prior Incantato." Peachwood floated up, a smoke issuing from the tip in the shape of a giant skull. A spell's ghost.
"Well, that's the wand," Arthur muttered.
Sirius didn't lift the spell, listening as the next incantation shivered to their ears. A gray figure in Muggle clothes, male, short, and round, appeared. Dread slammed a fist into his stomach. "Avada-"
"Finite!"
Even the specter of that spell could kill.
"Son of a bitch." A minor Ministry official, carefully feeling a black eye he'd probably gathered at one of the riots. "Is that -"
The Roberts family. Sirius tapped the patch on his robes twice. "The Death Eater's wand? Yes." Murder weapon. And they could take it as evidence, identifying the witch or wizard it belonged to. He let peachwood drop again to its original place on the forest floor. "Out of the clearing, everyone."
Scene secured, he pulled the other Marauder aside. Arthur, showing signs of wear, followed. No more wasted time. Moony pulled up at the hand Sirius laid on his arm. "Remus, where's Harry?"
"Oh shut up, you bloody -"
"Shh!" Harry was more than happy to interrupt the insults being snarled back and forth between Ron and Malfoy. Ever since Remus left. Some of the things Malfoy said had gotten him angry enough to cast, but Hermione had pulled him away, though she'd had less luck with Ron. She's right. It's really not worth it – especially if someone's looking for us.
From the look on Remus' face before he'd gone searching for the caster of the skull riding the sky, that someone had the worst of intentions. Voldemort. He still hadn't told Hermione, or the Weasleys. Sirius had promised they would right after the Cup. But that was before -
"What is it?" Hermione leant forward.
Ginny's face was white, with the pinched, frightened look that was still stamped on Harry's memory from the Chamber of Secrets.
"Someone's coming." Holly was firm in his hand; Fred and George were keeping watch on the other side of the tiny space. Harry's entire body thrummed with adrenaline at the approaching rustle of leaves. The figure that appeared between the trunks stared right past them, pale eyes searching what appeared to be an empty clearing. "Sirius!"
Dark hair turned, seeking his voice. Remus emerged next, followed by a figure topped with red hair.
"Dad!" Ginny cried shrilly. "Fred, George, take it down!" And she ran over the line scratched through the dirt, to be caught by a surprised Mr. Weasley.
The twins were muttering to themselves; for a moment, the entire clearing seemed to . . . to blink. Then pale eyes locked with his. "Harry. Are you all right?"
Harry jumped forward, grinning, and found himself caught in a quick, unexpected hug. "Yeah. Nothing happened – we got away from the mob. Everything looked okay, until that went up." Sirius' eyes followed his pointing finger toward the gruesomely grinning emerald skull.
"You're all alright? Let's get back to the tent," Mr. Weasley called.
"Sirius? What is that?"
The quick squeeze to his shoulder was comforting. "Wait just a little bit, Harry. Arthur's right. Let's get back to the tent. I'll explain then." Sirius had never broken a promise to him. Okay. Harry nodded.
"Clever spell," Remus commented to Fred and George. "You came up with it?"
"Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes," the twins chorused. Mrs. Weasley might not kill them for it. Harry grinned a little. Fred and George would probably milk it for all it was worth, and then some.
"Hey – where'd Malfoy go?" Hermione frowned, sidling over to Remus' side.
"He was just over by that tree a minute ago," Ron shrugged. "Good riddance, I say."
"Well, we can't leave without him," Remus declared.
Harry blinked. You're kidding. But Sirius was nodding. "Arthur, stay here for a moment. He can't have gotten far."
"Man," George muttered as the two older men moved through the trees.
"Thought we were rid of the little pestilence," Fred agreed.
It took a few minutes before Sirius and Remus returned, with the mutinous-looking blond boy in tow. I wonder what they said to make him come with us. Harry fell into step with Sirius, who was looking grimmer by the minute. I bet he was going to look for his parents. His father's a Death Eater. And he did say there were probably Death Eaters running around the woods. The campsite's this way, not the way he was going.
But when they reached the edge of the wood, their progress was impeded A large crowd of frightened-looking witches and wizards was congregated there, and when they saw Mr. Weasley and Sirius coming toward them, many of them surged forward.
"What's going on in there?"
"Who conjured it?
"Arthur – it's not – Him?"
Mr. Weasley huffed impatiently, about to speak.
"I'm sorry, we can't talk about an ongoing investigation," Sirius cut in smoothly, raising his voice to carry. "Unless you're looking for someone, the wood is off-limits. The suspects have been apprehended; there's nothing you need to worry about. Please go back to your tents."
"Excuse us, please," Mr. Weasley added, starting to push past the people and determinedly pulling Ginny with him. "I want to get to bed."
A woman in a neon magenta and green striped dressing gown suddenly appeared in front of them. A peacock feather-quill scribbled furiously at parchment as she beamed a smile on them that made Harry think of Gilderoy Lockhart. "Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet. What can you tell me about the Dark Mark floating over the wood? And the riot – what happened to those Muggles?"
"No comment," Sirius said firmly. The fingers on his shoulder kept Harry firmly on his godfather's other side, blocking him from the reporter.
"But surely you can't deny the evidence of our own eyes," the woman protested. "That is the Dark Mark. What -"
"If you wish to be appraised of the official report of events, I suggest you speak to Gawain Robard, Head of the Aurors, or Head of the DMLE," Sirius suggested. They never slowed their pace, but the woman kept irritatingly close. "I'm not permitted to speak about an ongoing investigation. Now if you'll excuse us."
"But what about -"
"Black! There you are!" A short, thick Asian woman with the Aurors' patch on her robes pushed Skeeter roughly aside. "Gawain -"
"Anne Lin," the reporter recovered herself, turning avid, predatory eyes on the newcomer. Harry stared. "Perhaps you can tell me -"
"Shove off," the woman advised pointedly. "I'm not as polite as Black."
His godfather snorted.
Poisonously colored stripes drew themselves up. "The people have the right to know -"
The shorter woman blew a raspberry at Skeeter.
"Let's go," Sirius murmured lowly. Harry glanced up in time to see him mouth Thanks to the short Auror, who only winked in reply.
They crossed the path the riot had taken, and the swathe of destruction was unexpected. Fires still smoked and smoldered, though most people seemed to have disappeared. A few witches and wizards could be seen poking through tents that had been blasted out of the Death Eaters' way, but Harry shivered to see how deserted it was. "Where is everyone?"
Sirius sighed. "The Ministry members are going to have to run relief efforts with a few Aurors to supervise. The rest of the Aurors are tied up dealing with the Death Eaters we caught." His voice was low, but as they wove through the tents everyone was listening.
"Don't you have to help?"
"Yes," Sirius admitted. "But I'm not going anywhere until I make sure you're taken care of." The arm around his shoulders squeezed reassuringly.
Heat crawled up his face. I'm glad it's dark out. It was almost three in the morning, after all. But it was still a good feeling. He was saved from replying by their arrival at a tent made of rich, tasteful silks.
"This is it."
Harry'd completely forgotten about Malfoy. Figures that his tent would be one of the ones the Death Eaters didn't touch. Indeed, it looked like the mob had passed right by and left it alone.
"Go stand with Arthur, Harry," Sirius gave him a little push toward the back of the group. "Just while I take care of this."
Take care of what? He's at his tent, let's go. But Harry bit his tongue, and nodded. "Okay." But he ignored the Weasleys' talking quietly behind him, Fred and George muttering as Mr. Weasley murmured soothingly to Ginny. Ron peered over his shoulder. "What's up?"
"Dunno," Harry shrugged.
Hermione was watching just as intently.
Sirius pulled a tassel hanging down by the seam where two draped curtains of canvas touched. Deep within, something gonged.
The woman who emerged, every hair in place, was the same blonde, horse-faced woman who had walked at Lucius Malfoy's side in the Top Box. But she didn't even look at her son, who had taken up a position at Sirius' side and a step behind him.
"Sirius." Harry's jaw dropped. She knows him? How -
His godfather's tone was just as distant and formally polite. "Narcissa."
"The hour is late, cousin." Anyone who hadn't been staring was now. Cousin?
"I regret to have disturbed you." Sirius inclined his head momentarily. "I happened upon the Malfoy heir, displaced and unprotected, and bethought myself to return him to you." Huh? Why are they talking like that?
"My thanks." The smile on Mrs. Malfoy's face seemed forced. "A debt of honor is owed to your house."
Sirius didn't seem to acknowledge her. "I discharge my ward to his mother's care."
At that, Malfoy moved forward to stand between them. And then, the weirdest thing Harry had seen all night – Draco bowed, short and stiffly, to Sirius, before turning to go back into the tent.
"Duty demands my presence elsewhere, cousin," Sirius continued. It's like they didn't even see him.
"Good eve, cousin." With a graceful nod, Narcissa Malfoy closed the tent.
"What was that?" Harry blurted, as soon as his godfather turned around.
"Tradition," was the answer. "And politics," Sirius sighed. "But mostly tradition."
"You're related to Malfoy?" Ron was disgusted.
Sirius laughed, pointing them away from the Malfoys' tent and back through the campsites.
"So's Harry," Remus interjected mildly, steering them around another fire and quenching it as he passed.
"What?" He couldn't have heard that right. I'm what?!
"Relax," Sirius grinned. "It's distant enough to be almost nonexistent. You're slightly closer to my side of the family tree, but it's only a vague connection."
"But I'm related to Malfoy?"
"Eww." Ginny's nose wrinkled.
"All the pureblood families are interrelated." Sirius pointed left; Harry could see the tip of a familiar tent between the pointed sweeps of two others. "If you're only going to let your sons and daughters marry purebloods, your choices are very limited; there are hardly any of us left. Your mum," he glanced at Ron and the twins, smiling at Ginny, "is my cousin by marriage and Arthur's something like my second cousin once removed."
Hermione got it first. "So Ron's related to Malfoy too?"
"No way!"
"I'm afraid so." Remus had a Marauder's hidden grin on. Harry'd gotten familiar with that cat-ate-the-canary look over the summer, watching his godfather and Remus prank each other, and then him. Oh, geez.
Ron was so dismayed that he tripped on a tent-peg and almost took a nosedive into the dirt.
Charlie's head was poking out of the boys' tent. "Dad, what's going on?" he called through the dark. Worry seeped into every word. "None of the kids are back yet -"
"We've got them here," said Mr. Weasley, bending down and entering the tent. The rest of the group followed, with Sirius bringing up the rear.
Bill was sitting at the small kitchen table, holding a bedsheet to his arm, which was bleeding profusely. Charlie had a large rip in his shirt, and Percy was sporting a bloody nose. Steaming cups of tea rested before each of them, and the kettle was on.
"Did you get them, Dad?" said Bill sharply as they all poured in. There weren't enough chairs to go round; Sirius leant against the counter at the open juncture between parlor and kitchen while the twins, Harry and Ron spilled to carpet that smelled of cat. "The person who conjured the Dark Mark?"
"No," Mr. Weasley sighed, slumping back against the last kitchen chair. "When we got there, Sirius and Remus were already there; we'd only just missed them."
Pale eyes locked with his. Voldemort. He was there. No other explanation for the gravity weighing his godfather's every move. Harry shivered.
"Look, can someone just explain what that skull thing was?" Ron asked impatiently, shifting against the couch-leg bracing his back. "It wasn't hurting anyone. . . Why's it such a big deal?"
"It's You-Know-Who's symbol, Ron," interjected Hermione before anyone else could respond. She was sitting up straight, in a battered and faded armchair, hair frizzed out from sleep and their run through the woods. "I read about it in The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts."
"And it hasn't been seen in thirteen years." Mr. Weasley was tense, but it was the cold, shuttered look on Sirius's face that scared Harry. "Of course people panicked . . . it's almost like seeing You-Know-Who again."
"I don't get it." Ron's fingers twisted tightly together. "I mean . . . it's still only a shape in the sky. . . ."
"Ron," Remus said in a voice Harry recognized from the classroom, usually preceding the explanation that made everything click. "The Dark Lord and his followers sent the Dark Mark into the air whenever they killed."
"Just think." Sirius' voice was quiet. "Imagine arriving home to find that hanging in the sky over your house – and knowing what you'll see inside. The terror the Mark could inspire is only a shallow reflection of finding your worst fear come true."
"Well, it didn't help tonight, whoever conjured it." Bill dabbed the bedsheet at the cut. Fresh crimson oozed. "It scared the Death Eaters away the moment they saw it. All the ones that could Disapparated on the spot. The Aurors got a few, but even more got away."
Ginny's voice was small. Red hair and brown eyes were all that was visible over the curled ball she'd made herself in one corner of the tiny couch. "Death Eaters? What are Death Eaters?"
"What Voldemort's supporters call themselves," Sirius said levelly. Harry wondered if he even noticed the Weasleys' collective flinch. "A lot of them managed to keep out of Azkaban, and many of those were out cavorting tonight."
"What were the Death Eaters up to, levitating Muggles?" Harry wasn't sure he really wanted to know – the scene still made him sick and angry all at once. "What was the point?"
"The point?" said Mr. Weasley with a hollow laugh. "Harry, that's their idea of fun." He was about to continue when another voice broke in.
"Not tonight." Sirius pushed off the counter, moving to pace in the small space. The next few words were soft with regret. "The Roberts family is dead."
Charlie jerked with shock, swearing as hot tea slopped over the edge of his cup. Bill's head snapped up; Percy's mouth dropped open. Harry could hear small noises of surprise around him, but his gaze was on Sirius, and the glance his godfather exchanged with Remus.
"What – why would they -" Percy was grasping for reason.
Sirius' eyes rested behind Harry for a moment; the dark head shook slightly. Ginny.
"Sirius?" Mr. Weasley wasn't the only one who'd caught on that something more was being held back.
"Some of this is not suitable for young ears," his godfather responded.
"Hey!" Fred and George jerked upright.
"Well, after tonight. . ." Mr. Weasley sighed. "I'm sure it's not that bad. I mean, it's not like You-Know-Who's come back. . ."
Sirius didn't laugh. Didn't move, didn't say anything, his whole body perfectly still.
Mr. Weasley's face was an awful pasty color. "That's impossible." The whisper carried through the entire tent.
"So the Death Eaters weren't running scared." Harry's head jerked toward Bill, whose face was dark. Blood seeped into the sheet, staining cloth. Remus' wand hovered a moment over the cut; the professor murmured a quiet charm, and the flow of blood slowed.
"It's likely that seeing the Mark was a signal for retreat," Sirius nodded grimly. "Voldemort did what he set out to do."
"You-Know-Who . . . was here?" Charlie was the only other one with the gumption to speak. Harry looked around; Hermione's eyes were huge with fear, and Ginny was trembling. The twins looked graver than Harry'd ever seen them; Ron was sitting at his little sister's side, an arm around her shoulders.
"Yes. He Disapparated," was the cool answer. He's gone . . . but where? Harry tucked back a shiver.
"The Ministry knows this and nothing's being done?" Bill's outrage finally sparked a reaction from Percy, who drew himself up to argue.
"No."
"What do you mean?" his friend finally found his tongue. Ron's anger splashed over them. "You haven't told anyone that -"
"I know this system, Ron." His godfather was more patient than Harry'd thought he might be. "Without proof, no one will believe it. No one will want to believe that this isn't just some wizard trying to step into the shoes and reputation of the most terrifying wizard of our time."
"But – you saw him, you both did," Hermione pointed out, seemingly haven taken control of her emotions again. Harry blinked. Huh? "He must have been the one in the clearing. Surely, if you told them -"
"They would say the source is suspect, and refuse to listen," Remus said quietly.
"What do you mean?" Harry sat up a little more, frowning. "Why wouldn't they listen?"
He couldn't quite understand the look that the two older men shared. Remus scrubbed hands over his face roughly. "Werewolves are classified as Dark creatures," was his answer. "Nothing I could say would be taken as truth." Bill stiffened, and Percy's mouth dropped wider, but Harry, Ron and Hermione had known for some time, as had Mr. Weasley, apparently. A hiss behind him showed Fred thinking furiously, while George had an uncommonly thoughtful look on his face. Like right before they double-team the Chaser with the Quaffle and take out the Keeper as well. Ginny seemed the least concerned.
"And I'm on thin ice where the Ministry's concerned," Sirius said quietly. "Yes, they made a mistake and were in the wrong when they sent me to prison. But there are quite a few people whispering that no one could have lasted long in Azkaban without losing their minds. They'd rather put me safely away in St. Mungo's, for 'my own good', than face up to the fact that they blundered."
Horror clutched Harry's stomach; fear had a stranglehold on his throat. "They couldn't do that. Could they?" Take him away? They wouldn't. They couldn't – they –
"No." Sirius' voice was firm as he crouched in front of Harry. Heat rolled over his eyes, and he blinked, scrambling forward. They can't – I won't let them! He had family now, he had Sirius and Remus and the Pevensies, and they were going to take that away – Harry wrapped his arms around his godfather and held on tight. I won't let them.
"I'm sorry I scared you." Sirius' voice rumbled the chest under Harry's cheek, too low for anyone else to hear. "No, they would never be able to do that. I've passed every test they could think to shove on me, and most of it is just talk. The feeling is there, but if they ever tried to do anything about it . . ." Ribs lifted with the sigh. "I am the last survivor of the House of Black. We've been invisible long enough to be forgotten, but it's past time the Wizarding world remembers that the High Families still exist." Steel was more flexible than that voice. Arms came up around him, hugging him back, and refusing to let go.
"Sirius," Remus said lightly. "Please tell me you're not going to do something foolish."
"Moony." Harry risked a glance up, and one pale eye winked down at him. The voice, full of mock-hurt and devilish humor, continued. "Why would you ever think I would do something like that?"
"Well, there was the incident with the Fire Crabs in our fourth year, and then the time you got your hands on Muggle duct tape."
The shrug lifted Harry a little, but he just hung on tighter. "Isolated incidents," his godfather maintained.
Remus lifted a brow; Harry couldn't help his grin. "And I seem to remember one of Filch's cats as a massive, peanut-buttered glob -"
Snickers broke out, and he heard an exclamation from Fred that sounded like 'Brilliant!' Uh-oh . . .
"That was an accident," Sirius protested, a bit weakly. He'd shifted so Harry could curl into him, both arms still wrapped tight over his back.
"- after we decided that as far as pranks went, that one was lacking the maturity and sophistication we had developed in our seventh year."
"Well." All attempts at innocence evaporated in front of the open laughter that last had inspired. "It was still funny. Especially when it wouldn't come off."
"Because you charmed it to be spell-resistant!" Remus threw his hands into the air. Harry was laughing outright now.
Percy was the one who dissolved the levity. "You-Know-Who is out there, and you're not going to do anything?" Nose long since healed, the third-oldest Weasley's fists were clenching spasmodically.
Sirius' head went up. "For the moment, there's nothing I can do. I hope the riot will make people's minds open to the idea that something else is going – especially since the Mark went up. But think about it, Percy – Voldemort has been back for almost three weeks now, and the world is not covered in Darkness. He's hiding."
"Why?"
"Your guess is as good as ours, Hermione," Mr. Weasley raised empty hands.
"Probably to consolidate his strength, gather his followers," Remus offered. "And the element of surprise is one he doesn't want to lose."
Harry shivered. How can he? Everyone who wasn't there – who didn't see – the whole Wizarding World thinks he's dead, and no one's going to believe this isn't just some faker trying to take his place. . .
"Regardless, if he'd been going to reveal himself, tonight would have been almost ideal," Sirius mused. "Few Aurors, already stretched thin – and he didn't. Which means he's not ready, and probably won't be for some time."
"Listen," Mr. Weasley spoke into the silence that fell. "It's very late, and if your mother hears what's happened she'll be worried sick. We'll get a few more hours' sleep and try to get an early Portkey out of here."
By the time Harry got back to his bunk after watching Sirius leave to rejoin the Aurors, his head was buzzing. He should feel tired – by the time they'd finished talking it was nearly four in the morning and they were getting up again in only two hours. But I'm not.
Just a few days ago, he'd woken with his scar burning. Now, Voldemort's sign is in the sky for the second time since – Since the night his parents had been killed. He didn't know for sure, but he'd seen it in Sirius' eyes. Few people had heard of the Mark's appearance over the Forbidden Forest barely three weeks ago – the Aurors had kept it quiet as possible.
It all meant something bad, he was sure of it. What's going to happen next?
A/N: Well, I haven't had to make up magic in awhile, but it's like driving a car through a garage door (which I don't recommend, by the way). You never really lose the knack . . . On to the point. My rules for this magic and how it 'works' do not follow canon – I'm developing my own.
Protego-ankh - protego, shield spell (directly from the Latin, meaning "I protect"), plus ankh (directly from Ancient Egyptian, meaning "life") which strengthens the spell beyond its normal ability to deflect minor curses / jinxes.
Aencessi - Mutilated Latin. To make permeable, from one side only.
Cunctatus - directly from Latin, meaning 'having been delayed', or 'hesitate'. Slows movement of a target. Can be directed at an individual, or blanketed over an area.
Arcero – Mutilated Latin, meaning "to shut in, or enclose" (from arceo, arcere, arcui). Casts a glowing net of sticky purple strands over an area. Generally resistant to removal by any but the caster, though holes can be blown in it for prey to escape, and it is generally not useful against magical creatures. Wizards, however, are another story . . .
Abscondemus et divertus videtus – mutilated Latin: "we hide from sight and divert the viewer"; requires not only an illusion but mental suggestion. (Which is the reason for the length of the chanting incantation). The more complex magic becomes, the more complex the wording must become unless you use 'wandlessly'. Dual magics must have incantations because you cannot match the exact intent behind multiple users without words; and the more complex the intent, the more precisely you need to verbally pin it down.
Caroflagro – Mutilated Latin; caro "flesh" plus conflagro, "to be consumed by fire". Causes the target's flesh to be incinerated (no flames) at point which the spell hits (not full-body).
Osbatuo – Latin os, ossis meaning "bone" plus batuo, meaning "batter". Spell breaks bones where it hits; severity of the break depends on power put behind the incantation. Generally a nasty thing to get hit with.
Scrutor – From the Latin, meaning "to search carefully / examine thoroughly." A seeking spell allowing the caster both short and long-range detection of a target (be it Light or Dark).