A/N: You know what, it's a holiday here in the States, so let's have a bonus chapter.

Harry and Draco had spent most of the weekend being led around by Draco's father. Lucius introduced Harry to an enormous amount of important people, most of whom Harry had already forgotten a name, or a face, or both. Several stood out, though, even after countless introductions.

Harry had no trouble recognizing or remembering Ludo Bagman, for example. Former beater for the Wimbourne Wasps, Bagman was absolutely famous. His body had grown a little paunchy from his days as the best beater in the league, but he was still a legend in his own time. Harry had gotten the impression that Bagman wasn't the smartest owl in the flock, though. Perhaps it was one too many bludgers in the head. Nevertheless, Bagman had an impressive position in the Ministry, and Harry couldn't help but remember Tracey's words from the previous year. Being good at quidditch meant more than winning at quidditch. Being good at quidditch meant fame, and fame could always be made into something more.

And whenever he thought of fame, Harry couldn't help but think of the portly gentleman who had approached Mr. Malfoy. Mr. Malfoy had introduced the man as Horace Slughorn, former Hogwarts professor and former head of Slytherin house. When Slughorn began to speak with Mr. Malfoy, the name dropping came fast and furious. Harry was able to keep up, at first, but only because most of the names were famous quidditch players. Slughorn made it clear that his connections to those players had resulted in significant amounts of special treatment at the World Cup.

After several minutes, Mr. Malfoy interrupted Slughorn to introduce Draco and Harry. Slughorn didn't bat an eye at Draco, but seemed almost physically shocked to hear Harry's name. Slughorn became positively effusive, extolling the virtues of Harry's mother and becoming approximately the thousandth person to mention that Harry looked just like his father, but with his mother's eyes. Slughorn then spotted another acquaintance, quite famous, and one who knew his soft spot for crystal pineapple. Slughorn begged away from the conversation, but insisted, absolutely insisted that Harry and Draco and Lucius visit him soon, quite soon.

"An excellent man to know," Lucius told Draco and Harry, "but a hard man to be around."

Harry agreed. His contact with Slughorn had lasted less than five minutes, but he was somehow exhausted from the effort.

Harry and the Malfoys had a private box from which they would watch the World Cup. As they had arrived at their box, Harry caught a glimpse of two familiar heads of hair, one bright red and the other bushy and untamed. Harry let the Malfoys step inside the private box before he called out.

"Oi! Ron! Hermione!"

"Hi Harry!" said Hermione, waving frantically. "I didn't know you'd be here!"

"I didn't know you'd be here, either," said Harry. "I didn't think you'd like quidditch." That, and there was no way that Ron should have been able to afford tickets.

"My family won tickets," Ron said, offering an answer to Harry's unasked question. "Dad entered a drawing at work on a whim. We had an extra, so I invited Hermione.

"We get to sit in the Minister's box!" Hermione was clearly more excited about the seeing the Minister than the World Cup.

"I'm here with Draco and his family," Harry said. "And it got me away from my muggles, which is the real treat."

Ron frowned. "I'd better get on, then. Last time my Dad saw Draco's dad, they almost dueled."

Harry remembered—he had been at Flourish and Blott's with Draco at the time. "Enjoy the match, then," Harry said. "Where's your tent? Maybe I'll stop by and say hello before we leave."

Ron gave Harry the approximate location of their tent ("Look for the guy who insists on wearing a muggle dress, then go two tents down.") and then left with Hermione for the minister's box. When Harry returned to the Malfoy's box, Draco immediately asked where he had been.

"I saw Granger," Harry said. "Stopped to say hello." Best to leave the Weasleys out of it altogether, Harry thought.

Draco rolled his eyes. "That little m…uggleborn is everywhere, isn't she?"

"It's like there's two of her," Harry said with a smile.

The World Cup was a thing of beauty, and it went beyond the veela mascots for the Bulgarian team. Watching the teamwork of the Irish chasers made Harry truly appreciate the effect that skilled chasers could have on a match. True, Krum flying as the seeker for Bulgaria was like poetry in motion, but the Irish chasers were so much better than the Bulgarian players that even Krum's advantage was overcome. Krum wound up catching the snitch despite being dramatically behind in points—Krum knew that his team would never catch up, but he had wanted to end the game on his own terms.

After the Malfoys returned to their tent, Harry found himself unable to sleep. Draco did not face the same problem, and was asleep in the bed next to Harry, snoring softly. Harry lay awake, imagining scenes from the match again and again. Watching Krum had given him some ideas for this year… assuming he beat Draco for the seeker position. If not, Harry would have to integrate some of the maneuvers that he had seen the Irish use.

Pfft. Who was he kidding? He'd be seeker. He was flat better than Draco.

Outside, Harry heard shouting and muffled rumbling. Harry rose and walked to the door of the bedroom, looking out into the main living space of the tent. Harry had been amazed to discover that the Malfoy's tent, although small on the outside, was the size of a small house on the inside. In fact, Harry strongly suspected that the tent was larger than the Dursley's house on Privet Drive.

In the living room, Harry saw that Narcissa was already awake. She was standing at the door of the tent, glancing out. When she turned back, she saw Harry standing in the bedroom door.

"Wake Draco," she said.

"What's going on?" Harry asked.

"Some fools are marching through the camp, mugglebaiting. Lucius has gone to help. We've got to get you two to somewhere safe. Get Draco, and make sure you both have your wands."

Harry ran back to the bedroom and shook Draco awake. "Draco, come on. Get your wand, we have to go."

"What? Wand?"

"Your mom says we have to go, come on!" As Harry spoke, the sound of shouting voices grew louder and louder. There was an explosion, far too close for Harry's comfort. Harry grabbed his wand of the nightstand and dashed out of the room. He could hear Draco behind him, cursing as he followed.

Narcissa was standing at the door to the tent, her wand drawn. "Get to the woods as fast as you can. Stay there until somebody comes for you. I'm going to find Lucius." Narcissa stepped forward and hugged Draco, kissing him on the head. "Be careful." Narcissa stepped back and pushed Draco toward the door. Harry followed.

Outside the tent, the camp was in chaos. What had begun as a few shouts had turned into complete bedlam. Wizards were running in every direction, but nobody seemed to know what they were running from, or where they were running to. As Harry and Draco stepped into the crowd, they found themselves swept along by the mass of people, unable to truly direct themselves. Harry did his best to stay within arm's reach of Draco, and Draco did the same.

There was a bright flash of light to the north, and the campground was suddenly bathed in green light. Harry turned and saw several bodies suspended in the air, dangling upside-down by their feet. They seemed to be moving closer, almost directly at Harry and Draco.

Harry turned his eyes away from another blindingly bright flash of light. When he looked back, the bodies were much closer, floating at the end of his row of tents. Below them marched a crowd of wizards, laughing and pointing up in the air. They were dressed in black cloaks with raised hoods. Several wands were held aloft, keeping the bodies suspended in the air. Others in the crowd were casting spells at nearby tents, starting small fires and generally causing chaos. In the flashes of light cast by the spells, Harry could see that most in the crowd were wearing white masks that looked almost skeletal.

Draco began pulling Harry's arm. "Harry. We have to go. We have to get to the forest!"

"Who are they?" Harry asked. He felt an urge to charge at the crowd. They had no right to be doing what they were doing.

"You don't want to be standing around when they get here! Come on!" Draco dragged Harry toward the forest. Harry stumbled, then began to follow his friend.

The mob had begun to move in one direction: away from the robed figures. Harry and Draco were able to run along with the crowd, making their way into the forest and the relative safety of the darkness.

"Who were they?" Harry asked Draco, once they had slowed in the forest.

"Muggle baiters. Probably thought that we shouldn't have to conceal ourselves just to watch our own World Cup. Decided to do something about it."

Harry nodded. He had heard Draco's father express a similar sentiment several times throughout the week. For the most part, Harry agreed: wizards shouldn't have to hide themselves like common criminals. But Harry also understood the necessity for the Statute of Secrecy; if wizards were revealed to muggles, there were a limited number of possible outcomes, and none of them good. Muggles might decide to exterminate wizards out of fear, or enslave wizards for their powers. Power-hungry wizards would lend their strength to muggle nations, disrupting the tenuous balance of power and plunging the world into a third Great War. Religions might hail wizards as angels, demons, demigods, or the Second Coming, and thousands of muggles would ruin their lives out of fear for an impending apocalypse.

Nevertheless, Harry wished that he wasn't required to live in secrecy. He felt like a second-class citizen, hiding his greatest talent. It wasn't a crime to be a wizard, and Harry hated acting like it.

None of that, however, gave wizards the right to go muggle-baiting.

From deeper in the forest, Harry heard a voice speaking loudly. The tone was familiar: didactic, frustrated, and incredulous. Clearly the voice of Hermione Granger.

"Come on," Harry said to Draco. "I think I hear Hermione over there." Harry began walking, and Draco moved quickly to catch up.

"We shouldn't hang around her," Draco said. "You think that crowd of muggle-baiters won't be able to tell that she comes from muggle stock?"

Before Harry could reply, he heard Hermione's voice again. "No, Ronald, I don't know where my wand is! I couldn't find it before we had to leave the tent!"

"See?" Draco said. "She doesn't even have her wand. They'll hoist her up, for sure."

"Not if we're around to protect her," Harry said.

"Please. You can protect her. I'd rather make sure that I don't get killed." Draco shook his head. "I don't understand what you see in that girl!"

"And I don't understand what you see in Crabbe and Goyle, but at least Hermione can help me with my homework." As Harry finished speaking, he stepped into a small clearing. Hermione was standing with her hands on her hips, glaring at Ron Weasley. Off to the side was Ron's little sister, Ginny. Ron was the first to see them.

"Oh, great, just what we need: a Malfoy."

Harry ignored him. "Where is everybody? I thought you were here with your dad."

"Dad's gone to help the ministry. Trying to put out fires, help the wounded, stop the riot." Ron glanced at Draco and snorted. "Your dad's probably out there wearing a robe and a mask, right Malfoy?"

"He isn't," said Harry.

"And what if he is?" said Draco, at the same time.

Harry and Draco looked at one another, both slightly surprised.

"He isn't," Harry repeated firmly. "Draco's mum said that Mr. Malfoy had gone to help, too."

"Help the Death Eaters, you mean," said Ron.

Draco raised his wand to hex Ron, but Harry stepped in front of Draco before the blonde boy could cast any spells.

"Lay off it, Ron," Harry said. "For one night. We're all out here in the cold for the same reason."

Ron rolled his eyes and turned his back on Draco.

"I'll get him at Hogwarts," Draco mumbled from behind Harry. There was a rustle of robes as Draco put his wand away.

"You lay off it, too," Harry said quietly.

"Of course my father isn't out there," Draco whispered. "Why would he be? If he got caught, he'd lose everything. He'd be kicked off the Hogwarts Board of Governors, he'd lose political pull, he'd lose business… it just isn't worth it. But that stupid Gryffindor can't see past the green and silver on our robes."

"I know it's stupid," Harry said. "But you don't have to provoke him."

"Whatever." Draco moved away from Harry, as far away from Ron as he could be while still staying in the clearing.

Harry glanced over at Hermione. The bushy-haired girl had moved closer to Ginny, and had wrapped her arm around the younger girl's shoulders. It was rather cute that Hermione thought that she was protecting Ginny, when Hermione was the witch without a wand. Ginny, meanwhile, had her wand drawn and was glancing around the forest, looking for any sort of threat.

Exasperated by both Ron and Draco, Harry walked over to the pair of girls. "Lost your wand, Hermione?"

Hermione nodded. "I was so tired after the match that I went straight to sleep when we got to the tent. Then Mr. Weasley woke us up and sent us into the forest, and I couldn't find it anywhere."

"It'll turn up," Harry said. "It's not like it walked away on its own, right?"

"MORS MORDRE!" The voice shouting the spell was gruff and low, certainly not Ron or Draco. Harry drew his wand and spun around, looking for the caster, and Ginny did the same. The clearing was cast in a green light, but Harry couldn't see anybody.

"It's the Dark Mark," Ginny whispered.

Harry looked up. Suspended in the air above the clearing was a horrific skull, made of glowing green sparks. A snake slithered from the skull's mouth and writhed about in the sky.

All around the clearing, there were sudden *cracks!* of apparition. Harry dove forward, grabbing Hermione and Ginny and pulling them to the ground. "GET DOWN!"

Red flashes of light blasted about the clearing, and Harry heard several adult voices shouting, "Stupefy!" There was a flash of red as somebody was struck by the stunner, and then voices were shouting over one another in a horrible cacophony.

"Who did it? Which one of you?"

"Stop it! Those are my children!"

"Cease this foolishness at once!"

Harry glanced at the girls lying on either side of him. Neither had been stunned, which was a relief, but both girls seemed irritated that Harry had tackled them. Ginny, in particular, seemed put out. A war of emotions seemed to be playing across her face. She finally pushed Harry away, mumbling, "I can take care of myself, you know."

Harry felt rough hands grabbing at his back. He was dragged to his feet and spun around to face a thin man with a dark mustache.

"Mr. Crouch?" Harry recognized him from Dumbledore's memory, even though they had never met.

"Which one of you was it?! Who cast the dark mark?" Crouch's thin, reedy voice was unmistakable.

"None of us did it," Harry said. "We heard somebody else's voice, and then we saw the mark."

"Nonsense! There's nobody else here!" Crouch grabbed the front of Harry's robes and shook him. "Who did it?"

Voices began to shout from the clearing. "Crouch, stay calm. Don't you realize who that is?"

A second voice spoke: "Unhand him, you fool!"

Harry looked past Crouch and into the meadow. Arthur Weasley and Lucius Malfoy had both appeared and were approaching Crouch.

"That's Harry Potter," Mr. Weasley said. His was the calm voice from moments earlier. "If there's one person who didn't cast the Dark Mark, it's him."

Crouch turned back to Harry. He cocked his head to one side, then roughly pushed Harry's hair upward, exposing the lightning-bolt scar on Harry's forehead. With a sound of disgust, Crouch pushed Harry away. "Then it was one of the others!"

"They're my children," Arthur Weasley said again. "This is Ron and Ginny and their best friend Hermione."
"And the other is my son, Draco," Lucius said.

"That does not weigh in his favor," Crouch said coldly.

"Draco's my best friend," Harry said. "He didn't cast it."

"See? Even Harry Potter vouches for him," Lucius said. His voice dripped with contempt. "They're all children, Crouch. You're still jumping at shadows after all these years."

"SIR! OVER HERE!" A wizard in a ministry uniform was shouting from across the clearing. "We found something!"

"Shadows, eh, Malfoy?" Crouch stormed across the clearing. "What is it, Dawlish?"

Everybody followed Crouch across the clearing, including Harry and Hermione and Ginny. After Arthur and Lucius had vouched for Harry, the ministry employees were now completely ignoring the young witches and wizards.

"A house elf, sir, and a wand!" The ministry official—Dawlish—was pulling back the branches of a bush. There was a small house elf lying on the ground, and next to the elf was a wand.

"Winky?" Crouch seemed to recognize the elf.

"You know this elf?" asked Lucius.

"It's… it's my house elf. I brought her along to the World Cup." Crouch bent down and reenervated the elf. "Winky, what are you doing here?"

"Winky came after Master Crouch, sir. Then Winky found Master Crouch and this wand, and Winky was hit by a spell." Something seemed wrong about what the elf was saying, but Harry couldn't quite understand what it was.

Crouch stood and handed the wand to Dawlish. "Dawlish, test this wand for prior spells."

"Hey!" Before Harry could stop Hermione, she stepped forward and spoke. "That's my wand!"

"Hermione, be quiet!" Harry grabbed her and tried to pull her back, but the damage had been done. Harry could only watch, helpless, as Dawlish examined Hermione's wand. With a muttered word from the auror, the last spell cast by Hermione's wand revealed itself: Mors Mordre, the incantation for the Dark Mark.

Hermione went pale, suddenly realizing her mistake. "I… I lost it back at the tent… When we ran away, I just rushed out into the forest…"

"It's true!" said Ron, immediately jumping to Hermione's defense. "Ginny and I had to protect her the whole way, because we were the only ones with wands."

Crouch stepped forward. "Girl, you have admitted that this was your wand, and the last spell cast was the Dark Mark. Who else could have cast it, except for you?"

"The… the house elf?" Hermione's voice was quiet.

"House elves cannot perform wanded magic. It must have been you, girl!" Crouch leaned down, his face stretched into a horrific grin, exposing large white teeth. "Admit it, and it will be easier on you."

Harry stepped forward, placing himself between Crouch and Hermione. "She didn't cast it. I was looking right at her. She didn't have a wand in her hand when the mark was cast." As Harry spoke, Arthur Weasley pulled Hermione back, gently pushing her behind him. Meanwhile, Lucius Malfoy stepped behind Harry and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"We found the wand used to cast the Dark Mark," Crouch snapped. "In that same clearing was the owner of the wand. We arrived less than one minute after the Mark was cast. Are you suggesting that this is a coincidence?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"She clearly cast the Dark Mark and then threw her wand away in fear!"

"Prove it."

Harry stared at Crouch, and Crouch stared furiously back. Harry glared at him, defiant, refusing to back down, drawing strength from Mr. Malfoy's silent support. Finally, Crouch turned away. "Search the surrounding woods! Search for any sign of another wizard!" Before anybody else could say a word, Crouch himself had stalked away into the night.

"Well done, my boy," said Lucius. "Crouch is a tiger who lost his claws long ago."

"He's a bully is what he is," Hermione said, her voice choked with tears.

Arthur Weasley stepped forward and extended his hand. "Thank you for your support, Lucius."

"Don't think for a second that I did this for your precious little mudblood," Lucius said. Behind Arthur, Hermione broke down into complete sobs.

Arthur dropped his hand and narrowed his eyes. "Still holding a grudge against Crouch from that trial, eh, Malfoy? And here I thought you might have actually changed for the better."

"When compared to blood traitors like you, I will always be better." Lucius pushed Harry's shoulder lightly, directing him toward Draco. "Come along, boys. There is nothing else for us here."

Before Harry could say a word, Lucius had grabbed Draco's arm as well, and the three of them had apparated back to Malfoy Manor.

"Father, wait. Mother is still back at the campground," Draco said.

"Your mother found me shortly after the riot began," Lucius said. "I sent her home, for her safety, while I went to find you. Go on inside—I'm sure she wants to know that you are safe."

Harry followed Draco up the broad stone steps and into the manor. As soon as they stepped inside, Mrs. Malfoy burst out of the drawing room and enveloped both boys in a hug. Harry was rather surprised; the Malfoys were not demonstrative when it came to affection. Mrs. Malfoy was rather bonier than Mrs. Weasley, but her embrace was just as strong. She held Harry and Draco in the hug for several seconds, and was reluctant to release them, as if she didn't believe that they had actually arrived home safely.

"I'm proud of you two for keeping each other safe," Mrs. Malfoy said. Her eyes glinted in the soft light—was she starting to cry? "You're both growing up to be such fine men. I just don't know what I'd do without you." She stepped back slightly, finally releasing Harry and Draco from the hug. "Off to bed with you. Get some sleep. We'll talk more in the morning."