The Dark Mark

"Don't tell your mother you've been gambling," Mr. Weasley implored Fred and George as they all made their way slowly down the purple-carpeted stairs.

"Don't worry, Dad," said Fred gleefully, "we've got big plans for this money. We don't want it confiscated."

Mr. Weasley looked for a moment as though he was going to ask what these big plans were, but seemed to decide, upon reflection, that he didn't want to know.

They were soon caught up in the crowds now flooding out of the stadium and back to their campsites. Raucous singing was borne toward them on the night air as they retraced their steps along the lantern-lit path, and leprechauns kept shooting over their heads, cackling and waving their lanterns. When they finally reached the tents, nobody felt like sleeping at all, and given the level of noise around them, Mr. Weasley agreed that they could all have one last cup of cocoa together before turning in. They were soon arguing enjoyably about the match; Mr. Weasley got drawn into a disagreement about cobbing with Charlie, and it was only when Ginny fell asleep right at the tiny table and spilled hot chocolate all over the floor that Mr. Weasley called a halt to the verbal replays and insisted that everyone go to bed. Hermione and Ginny went into the next tent, and Harry and the rest of the Weasleys got ready for bed. From the other side of the campsite they could still hear much singing and the odd echoing bang.

Hermione lay staring up at the canvas ceiling of the tent, watching the glow of an occasional leprechaun lantern flying overhead, and thinking about the conversation at the start of the match. When Ginny and Harry were talking about who Hermione fancied, she could've sworn she saw Fred's smile drop, but just for a millisecond. But maybe it was the lighting, or maybe he had started getting a cramp, so he had to move? That was probably the reason. What was she thinking? Ugh, was this what it was like, fancying someone, thinking all of their expressions and emotions pertain to you? Then this was going to get annoying really fast.

She didn't have time to think anything else, however, because quite suddenly, Mr. Weasley had barged into their tent and was shouting.

"Girls-Hermione, Ginny, get up, get up now! This is urgent, get up!"

Ginny bolted up, rubbing her eyes with an annoyed look on her face, but stood up just the same.

"What's wrong, Dad? Why do we have to-"

"There's no time to explain, just grab a jacket and get outside-quickly!" he shouted before he rushed out of the tent.

Hermione did as she was told and rushed out of the tent, Ginny right behind her.

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

A crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wands pointing straight upward, was marching slowly across the field. Hermione squinted at them...They didn't seem to have faces...Then she realised that their heads were hooded and their faces masked. High above them, floating along in midair, four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes. It was as though the masked wizards on the ground were puppeteers, and the people above them were marionettes operated by invisible strings that rose from the wands into the air. Two of the figures were very small-they were two children.

Fred, George, Harry, and Ron were all huddled together by this point, and the looks of horror on each of their faces was indescribable. Fred and George stood behind Hermione and Ginny, respectively, and put their hands on the girls' shoulders, as if to lead them away; but everyone was so shocked and horrified that they couldn't move.

"That's sick," Ron muttered, watching the smallest figure, who had begun to spin like a top, sixty feet above the ground, his head flopping limply from side to side. "That is really sick..."

Mr. Weasley came hurrying toward them. At the same moment, Bill, Charlie, and Percy emerged from the boys' tent, fully dressed, with their sleeves rolled up and their wands out.

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

The three oldest Weasley boys were already sprinting away toward the oncoming marchers; Mr. Weasley tore after them. Ministry wizards were dashing from every direction toward the source of the trouble. The crowd beneath the floating figures was coming ever closer.

"C'mon," Fred said as he grabbed Hermione's hand, and George took Ginny's as they began to run toward the wood.

The coloured lanterns that had lot the path to the stadium had been extinguished. Dark figures were blundering through the trees; children were crying; anxious shouts and panicked voices were reverberating around them in the cold night air. Hermione felt herself being pushed hither and thither by people whose faces she could not see. She could feel her hand slowly slipping from Fred's grasp as the people kept running into her. Then she heard Ron yell with pain a few paces behind her. She let go of Fred's hand.

"Hermione!" he called, as he slowed down to take her hand again.

"Fred! I'm alright, but I'm going to help Ron! You and George take Ginny, we'll meet you back at the tent!" She could see that he was hesitant, but he had to go; she couldn't make him stay here-it was too dangerous. "Go!"

After a second, he turned and ran to catch up with George and Ginny, leaving his thoughts behind with Hermione as she stayed back to help Harry get Ron.

"What happened?" said Hermione as she turned away from Fred's shrinking figure. "Ron, where are you? Oh this is stupid-lumos!"

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

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

"Well, with feet that size, hard not to," said a drawling voice from behind them.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned sharply. Draco Malfoy was standing alone nearby, leaning against a tree, looking utterly relaxed. His arms folded, he seemed to have been watching the scene at the campsite through a gap in the trees.

Ron told Malfoy to do something that Hermione knew he would never have dared say in front of Mrs. Weasley.

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

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

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

"Granger, they're after Muggles," said Malfoy. "D'you want to be showing off your knickers in midair? Because if you do, hang around...they're moving this way, and it'd give us all a laugh."

"Hermione's a witch," Harry snarled.

"Have it your own way, Potter," said Malfoy, grinning maliciously. "If you think they can't spot a Mudblood, stay where you are."

"You watch your mouth!" shouted Ron.

"Never mind, Ron," said Hermione quickly, seizing Ron's arm to restrain him as he took a step toward Malfoy.

There came a bang from the other side of the trees that was louder than anything they had heard. Several people nearby screamed. Malfoy chuckled softly.

"Scare easily, don't they?" he said lazily. "I supposed your daddy told you all to hide? What's he up to-trying to rescue the Muggles?"

"Where're your parents?" said Harry, his temper rising. "Out there wearing masks, are they?"

Malfoy turned his face to Harry, still smiling.

"Well...if they were, I wouldn't be likely to tell you, would I, Potter?"

"Oh come on," said Hermione, with a disgusted look at Malfoy, "let's go and find the others."

"Keep that big bushy head down, Granger," sneered Malfoy.

"Come on," Hermione repeated, and she pulled Harry and Ron up the path again.

They saw a group of teenagers speaking French a little ways up the path, and Hermione explained to Harry and Ron that yes, there are other wizarding schools besides Hogwarts.

"Beauxbatons," muttered Hermione.

"Sorry?" said Harry.

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

"Oh...yeah...right," said Harry.

"Fred and George can't have gone that far," said Ron, pulling out his wand, lighting it like Hermione's, and squinting up at the path.

"Ah, no, I don't believe it...I've lost my wand!" cried Harry.

"You're kidding!"

Ron and Hermione raised their wands high enough to spread the narrow beams of light farther on the ground; Harry looked all around him, but his wand was nowhere to be seen.

"Maybe it's back in the tent," said Ron.

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

"Yeah," said Harry, "maybe..."

A rustling noise nearby made all three of them jump. Winky, the house-elf Harry met earlier, was fighting her way out of a clump of bushes nearby. She was moving in a most peculiar fashion, apparently with great difficulty; it was as though someone invisible were trying to hold her back.

While Harry spoke to Winky, Hermione looked around the dark and dense woods trying to make sure no masked figures approached. She kept her back turned fl Harry and Ron as they spoke to the house-elf. Hermione couldn't help but think of Fred, George, and Ginny. They had to be alright, because if they weren't, Hermione didn't know if she could face seeing the Weasley's anymore. She had been the one who separated the group and told those three to go on ahead; she had been the one to let go of Fred's hand as he tried to keep hold of her.

"No, stop it, Hermione," she told herself. "They're fine, they're okay. They're back at the tent right now, just waiting for you three."

They didn't get a long chance to talk to her, though, before they heard another loud bang echo from the edge of the wood.

"Let's just keep moving, shall we?" said Ron, and Hermione saw him glance edgily at her. Perhaps there was some truth in what Malfoy had said; perhaps she was in more danger than they were. They set off again, Harry still searching his pockets, even though his wand wasn't there.

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

"Veela!" said Hermione.

"Is that what they're called?" asked Harry. "I saw them during the match and I just thought they were really pretty women."

"No, they're veela; they have these special powers to make men do very ridiculous things to try and impress them. Did you see Ron getting ready to do a dive out of our box? That's why."

As Harry and Ron looked toward the veela women, Hermione could hear the young men trying to top each other's accomplishments. She ignored them, that is, until Ron cut in with his own 'accomplishment'.

"Did I tell you I've invented a broomstick that'll reach Jupiter?" he yelled.

"Honestly!" said Hermione, and she and Harry grabbed Ron firmly around the arms, wheeled him around, and marched him away. By the time the sounds of the veela and their admirers had faded completely, they were in the very heart of the wood. They seemed to be alone now; everything was much quieter.

"I reckon we can just wait here, you know. We'll hear anyone coming a mile off." Harry said.

The words were hardly out of his mouth, when Ludo Bagman emerged from behind a tree right ahead of them.

"Who's that?" he said, blinking down at them, trying to make out their faces. "What are you doing in here, all alone?"

They looked at one another, surprised.

"Well-there's a sort of riot going on," said Ron.

Bagman stared at him.

"What?"

"At the campsite...some people have got hold of a family..."

Bagman swore loudly.

"Damn them!" he said, looking quite distracted, and without another word, he Dissaparated with a small pop!

"Not exactly on top of things, Mr. Bagman, is he?" said Hermione, frowning.

Harry was listening for noise from the campsite. Everything seemed much quieter; perhaps the riot was over.

"I hope the others are okay," said Hermione after a while.

"They'll be fine," said Ron.

"Imagine if your dad catches Lucius Malfoy," said Harry, sitting down next to Ron. "He'd always said he'd like to get something on him."

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

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

"They will," said Ron reassuringly. "They'll find a way."

"Mad, though, to do something like that when the whole Ministry of Magic's out here tonight!" said Hermione. "I mean, how do they expect to get away with it? Do you think they've been drinking, or are they just-"

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

"Hello?" called Harry.

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

"Who's there?" he said.

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

"MORSMORDRE!"

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

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

It was a colossal skull, comprised of what look like emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. As they watched, it rose higher and higher, blazing in a haze of greenish smoke, etched against the black sky like a new constellation.

Suddenly, the wood all around them erupted with screams. Harry didn't understand why, but the only possible cause was the sudden appearance of the skull, which had now risen high enough to illuminate the entire wood like some grizzly neon sign.

"Who's there?" Harry called again.

"Harry, come on, move!" Hermione had seized the collar of his jacket and was tugging him backward.

"What's the matter?" Harry said.

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

"Voldemort's-?"

"Harry, come on!"

He turned-the three of them started across the clearing-but before they had taken a few hurried steps, a series of popping noises announced the arrival of twenty wizards, appearing from thin air, surrounding them.

Hermione whirled around, and in an instant, she registered one fact: Each of these wizards had his wand out, and every wand was pointing right at herself, Ron, and Harry.

She heard Harry yell, "DUCK!", but Hermione hadn't reacted quickly enough.

She blacked out, her last memory being twenty flashes of bright light racing towards her.