Harry tossed and turned restlessly in bed. It was very late in the night when Mr. Weasley finally managed to send them all off to sleep, but he was still too excited to drift off. The Quidditch World Cup kept replaying in his head, but there was a whole different thing keeping him awake too.
Has Barty Crouch Jr. made his escape with the aid of Harry's wand? Perhaps he was already far away, half-way to Voldemort... The thought made him feel jealous. How he wished he could see him in reality too! He couldn't wait to fall asleep and tell Tom Riddle he's helped his faithful servant get away. Things would be so much simpler for him now.
But the more he thought about it, the more excited he got. He took a deep breath and wiped his mind blank. Slowly, he felt himself relax and soon sleep came over him. Before any dream had a chance to start however, Mr. Weasley's urgent voice told him to get up. He heard Ron's groan of displeasure.
"No time to dally, boys," Mr. Weasley practically dragged his son out of bed. "We have to go now, quickly!"
Harry could hear a lot of commotion outside the tent. He frowned, wondering what has happened.
He found out soon enough. People in black robes with large hoods and masks on their faces were marching through the field with a Muggle family levitating above them. Harry watched them blast tents out of their way with loud bangs. He swallowed, realizing at once who they were – Death Eaters.
Mr. Weasley rushed off to help the Ministry, along with his eldest sons, while the rest of them joined the crowd headed into the woods. People were running in darkness and Harry, Ron and Hermione quickly got separated from the rest of the Weasley siblings. Suddenly they found themselves alone and heard the sneering voice of Draco Malfoy. He stood by the trees, watching the events through the branches with a smile, like it was an amusing show.
"Hadn't you better be hurrying along, now? You wouldn't like her spotted, would you?" Malfoy said, nodding at Hermione.
"What's that supposed to mean?" she said indignantly.
"Granger, they're after Muggles. D'you want to be showing off your knickers in midair? Because if you do, hang around… they're moving this way, and it would give us all a laugh."
"Hermione's a witch," Harry pointed out.
"Have it your own way, Potter," Malfoy grinned. "If you think they can't spot a Mudblood, stay where you are."
Malfoy had a point. While Ron and Hermione saw nothing but an insult in his words, Harry saw a fair warning.
"Right. Thanks," he said, before he had time to think. All three of them frowned at him in surprise. "Let's go find the others," he added hurriedly and pulled his friends away.
"Keep that big bushy head down, Granger!" Malfoy's voice carried after them.
"What the hell did you thank him for?" Ron snarled.
"It was meant sarcastically," he said quickly, feeling hot.
"You need to work on your sarcastic comebacks, mate."
"Yeah. Probably," he smiled apologetically.
They went further into the woods. Ron and Hermione lit their wands and Harry knew they expected him to do the same. He pretended to dig in his pocket.
"Ah, no, I don't believe it..." Harry tried to sound convincing. "I've lost my wand!"
"You're kidding!"
They spent some time searching the ground around them. Harry took on a worried expression, which he didn't have to fake entirely. He felt extremely vulnerable without a wand, but he knew he could always get a new one at Olivander's.
Another loud bang convinced them to move on. They reached a clearing, where they decided to wait. They stood, debating on the masked wizards and the Ministry of Magic, wondering if they were able to free the Muggle family yet, when Harry heard a rustle of leaves behind his back.
"Hello?" he turned around, trying hard to see in the dark. "Is anyone there?"
"Morsmordre!" came someone's yell.
A light blasted from a spot right before Harry, and soared to the sky. He looked up at the symbol, which appeared there and his heart beat faster. It was a skull with a snake coming out of it like a tongue. It was the Dark Mark. Voldemort's sign.
He stared at it excitedly, while the whole wood filled with panicked screams. With the Mark reflected in his wide open eyes, they were like music to his ears. He glanced back to the spot where the spell had come from, knowing Barty Crouch Jr. has made his escape. Only he could have conjured that sign.
But there was no one to be seen. He was already gone. Hermione squealed, pulling him away. They barely took a few steps before twenty wizards appeared, surrounding them.
Harry managed to throw himself at the other two and drag them down onto the ground in the last moment, before twenty flashes of red flew above their heads and disappeared between the trees.
"Stop!" Mr. Weasley came running towards them. "STOP! That's my son!"
"Out of the way, Arthur," said Mr. Crouch coldly, as the three of them stood up. "Which of you did it? Which of you conjured the Dark Mark?"
"We didn't do anything!" said Ron indignantly.
"Of course they didn't," said a witch, lowering her wand. "They're just kids, Barty."
Mr. Crouch did not seem convinced by that argument at all.
"Where did the Mark come from, you three?" Mr. Weasley asked hastily.
"Over there," Hermione pointed.
Everyone raised their wands searchingly.
"We're too late," the witch shook her head. "They'll have Disapparated."
"Our Stunners went right through those trees," said Amos Diggory. "There's a good chance we got them."
Mr. Diggory went over to where Hermione had pointed and walked into the darkness.
"Yes! We got them! There's someone here!" came his voice a moment later and Mr. Diggory reappeared, carrying an unconscious house-elf in his arms.
Harry froze, as he recognized Winky, and so did Mr. Crouch. Harry was thankful that all the attention was at the elf's master right now, because he felt himself pale, just like the man did. He muttered something under his nose and strode off to examine the crime scene himself. Harry followed him with his eyes, with a constricted stomach. Barty Jr. must be lying there, stunned, hidden under an invisibility cloak, right next to where Winky was, but only his father and Harry knew that. If only he could get to him before Mr. Crouch...
But he could only stand there helplessly, hoping that maybe his father wouldn't find the Death Eater.
"… you don't seriously think it was the elf?" Mr. Weasley's words pulled him out of his thoughts. "The spell requires a wand."
"Yeah. And she had a wand," said Mr. Diggory, and Harry instantly felt hot. "I found her holding one."
Mr. Crouch returned, still very pale, but there was a glint of relief in his eyes, which told Harry he did manage to find his son.
"If you don't mind, Mr. Crouch, let's see what she's got to say for herself. Ennervate!"
Winky came round instantly. She took in her surroundings, glanced up at the Dark Mark in the sky, and burst into tears.
"Elf!" Mr. Diggory addressed her. "As you see, the Dark Mark was conjured here a short while ago, and you were discovered moments later, right beneath it, with a wand in your hand! An explanation, if you please!"
Winky kept sobbing, as Mr. Diggory took out Harry's wand, presenting the proof. Harry took on a surprised expression.
"Hey - that's mine!" he said after waiting a few moments, that he thought it would take one to recognize their wand in the dim light. "I dropped it."
"You dropped it?" Mr. Diggory repeated, as everyone stared at him. "Is this a confession? You threw it aside after you conjured the Mark?"
Harry opened his mouth to reply with something witty, but Mr. Weasley beat him to it.
"Amos, think who you're talking to! Is Harry Potter likely to conjure the Dark Mark?"
"Er - of course not."
Harry suppressed a smirk, as Mr. Diggory mumbled an apology. Anyone who even thought of accusing the boy who lived of being involved in conjuring the Dark Mark would be taken for a fool. Harry marveled at the brilliance of it. He could be the best spy Voldemort ever had. No matter what he did, no one would ever suspect him.
"So," Mr. Diggory glared at the weeping Winky. "You found this wand, eh, elf? And you picked it up and thought you'd have some fun with it, did you?"
"I is not doing magic with it, sir!" she squealed between sobs. "I is… I is… I is just picking it up, sir! I is not making the Dark Mark, sir, I is not knowing how!"
"You've been caught red-handed, elf!"
What an idiot, Harry thought, trying not to laugh. If all the Ministry of Magic workers were this stupid, it wasn't going to stand one day, once Voldemort rose back to power.
"Amos," Mr. Weasley was the one to try to talk some sense into him again, "think about it… precious few wizards know how to do that spell… Where would a house-elf have learned it?"
"Perhaps Amos is suggesting that I routinely teach my servants to conjure the Dark Mark?" Mr. Crouch said coldly. Mr. Diggory realized his mistake at once and mumbled another apology, assuring him that was not what he meant. Mr. Crouch cut him off, "You have now come very close to accusing the two people in this clearing who are least likely to conjure that Mark! Harry Potter - and myself. I suppose you are familiar with the boy's story, Amos?" Mr. Diggory nodded at the rather rhetorical question. "And I trust you remember the many proofs I have given, over a long career, that I despise and detest the Dark Arts and those who practice them?"
Smart, Harry thought. Crouch's history did speak in his favor. After all, what kind of a lunatic sentences his own son to a life imprisonment in Azkaban? He felt a stab of pain, as it reminded him of Dumbledore. Well, he was not his parent, but Harry always thought of him as a mentor and also, to some extent, a father figure. The thought he had assigned Harry to be raised for slaughter hurt.
At least Crouch broke his son out of Azkaban eventuality, although, as Harry understood, only at his dying wife's last wish, and only to keep him under the Imperius Curse round the clock. What a freak.
Harry also mused at the fact that the very two people there, who were the least likely to conjure the Dark Mark, were actually the ones who were involved in it. Perhaps Voldemort's influence already spread wider, than anyone anticipated.
"If you are done with your ridiculous accusations, Amos," Crouch said coldly, "I'd like to deal with my elf myself. If she remembers anything of importance, I will naturally report it to your department immediately." Mr. Diggory seemed very uneasy about the request, but didn't dare protest. "I assure you she will be punished," he added.
"M-m-master…" Winky crawled to his feet, tears streaming down her face. "M-m-master, p-p-please…"
"Winky disobeyed me tonight. I told her to stay in the tent, but instead she wondered off to the woods."
"She was scared," Hermione said in her defense. "She didn't do anything wrong."
Crouch stared at her, as if she was crazy.
"She is a house-elf, girl. I have no need of a servant, who doesn't follow orders." His eyes narrowed, as he looked down on Winky. "This means clothes."
"No!" she cried, practically throwing herself at Crouch's shoes. "No, master! Not clothes, not clothes!"
Is he serious? Harry mused. With the dark secrets he had, he should keep Winky close, not send her away. Harry supposed elves didn't give away confidential information on their former masters willingly, but could Crouch really afford to take that risk in the name of saving his reputation? A rather foolish move on his part...
"Well, I think I'll take my lot back to the tent, if nobody's got any objections," Mr. Weasley broke the awkward silence, which followed after Crouch kicked the crying Winky away with disgust. "Amos, if Harry could have his wand back, please –"
Getting his wand back was the only positive outcome of that whole, nasty incident, Harry gathered.
The way back to the tent was tainted with Hermione's fervent monolog on the outrageous state of elf rights. Thankfully, the rest of the Weasley siblings had found their way back safely. Harry glanced at his bed longingly, while a discussion broke out, which lasted over an hour. He made sure to ask a lot of questions. Everyone expected him to know nothing about Voldemort and anything connected with him, and he had to keep up the appearances that nothing has changed in the matter.