"Don't tell your mother you've been gambling," Mr Weasley implored Fred and George as they slowly made their way 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.
As they walked down to the ground level and headed towards the campgrounds, the Weasley party was nearly engulfed by the flood of crowds streaming out of the stadium. Once again, Ron grabbed Hermione's hand and ensured she didn't get swept up in the melee. Raucous singing filled the night air as they retraced their steps along the lantern-lit path. Leprechauns kept hooting 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 spilt hot chocolate all over the floor that Mr Weasley called a halt to the verbal replays, and insisted that everyone went to bed.
Hermione and Ginny bid everyone goodnight as they ducked into their tent. "This was the best day ever," Ginny mumbled as she blindly threw clothes all over the bunks, trying to find her pyjamas.
"It was," Hermione agreed, being a bit more strategic about looking for her nightshirt. In the not-so-distant distance, they could still hear much singing and the odd echoing bang. Hermione figured it'd be a long night of partying, especially since the match was over so quickly. She had definitely thought they'd be there for at least two days or so.
Ginny fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. Hermione was too hyped up to sleep, though she knew she was utterly exhausted. She had never enjoyed a sporting event as much as today's match. After seeing that level of play, she had no idea how she could go back to watching Quidditch at Hogwarts.
As Hermione lay in bed, listening to the party raging on, her thoughts turned to Finnegan and his cousin. She hoped the short game had ruined the Death Eaters' plans for mayhem.
However, no sooner than Hermione closed her eyes, she was woken up by screams and the sounds of people running very close to their tent.
"Ginny?" Hermione said, the fear in her voice evident.
"I hear it, too," Ginny said.
"That's not just a party," Hermione said, stating the obvious.
"Ginny! Hermione!" shouted Mr Weasley as he crashed through the tent flat. "Grab your jackets and get outside quickly!"
The fear in Mr Weasley's voice was palpable. Both girls leapt out of bed and grabbed their jackets as instructed. "What's going on?" Ginny said, her voice wavering.
"Just get your coats," Mr Weasley said tersely.
They emerged from the tent to utter chaos. By the light of the few fires still burning, Hermione could see people running away into the woods, fleeing something moving across the field towards them. Whatever it was, it was emitting odd flashes of light and noises like gunfire. Loud jeering, roars of laughter, and drunken yells floated towards them like a dense fog, chilling Hermione to her bones.
A bright burst of green light illuminated a crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wands pointing straight upwards. Their faces were covered with unnaturally creepy masks. But it wasn't the masks that terrified Hermione; it was what was floating above the Wizards:
Four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes, controlled by the wands of the dark wizards below. Hermione knew at once they were Muggles. She stared, too horrified to move. Her whole body went numb except for the painful thudding of her heart pumping wildly in her chest.
More wizards joined the marching group, laughing and pointing at the floating bodies. Tents crumpled and fell as the marching crowd swelled. Once or twice Hermione saw one of the marchers blast a tent out of his way with his wand. Several caught fire. The screaming grew louder.
The fire illuminated the Muggles in the air, and Hermione realised it was Mr Roberts and, most likely, his wife and children. One of the marchers below flipped Mrs Roberts upside-down with his wand; her nightdress fell down to reveal voluminous drawers; she struggled to cover herself up as the crowd below her screeched and hooted with glee. Hermione's stomach turned over with disgust, and she was nearly sick on the ground in front of her.
"That's sick," Ron muttered, watching the smallest Muggle child begin to spin like a top sixty feet above the ground. His head flopped limply from side to side. "That is really sick."
Hermione hoped the poor boy had passed out and was unaware of this torture. She ran to Ron and stood next to him, trying to feel some semblance of comfort. Bill, Charlie, and Percy emerged from the boys' tent, fully dressed with their sleeves rolled up and 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 the woods, and stick together. I'll come and fetch you when we've sorted this out!"
Bill, Charlie and Percy were already sprinting towards the oncoming marchers; Mr Weasley tore after them. Ministry wizards were dashing from every direction towards the source of the trouble. The crowd beneath the Roberts family was coming ever closer.
"C'mon," said Fred, grabbing Ginny's hand and pulling her towards the treeline. Ron grabbed Hermione's hand and took off closely behind. Harry and George followed. If there had been any time to stop and assess the situation, Hermione would have been surprised that Fred and George didn't put up a fight about going to help the Ministry but was glad to have them there with them. They truly were brilliant Wizards, and she was glad to have them near her. If they were attacking Muggles… Hermione wouldn't let herself finish the thought.
The coloured lanterns that had lit the path to the stadium had been extinguished. Dark figures were blundering throughout the trees - Hermione just hoped they were on their side. That's all she could do, and her vulnerability was excruciating. All of a sudden, Ron's hand was ripped from hers, and he yelled out in pain.
"What happened?" said Hermione anxiously, stopping abruptly. It was so dark she couldn't see what had happened to Ron. Harry walked right into her, and she nearly tripped herself. "Ron, where are you? Oh, this is stupid - Lumos!"
The tip of Hermione's wand illuminated. She knew she wasn't supposed to use magic outside of school, but figured both she and the Ministry had other issues. The tip of her wand uncovered Ron, lying sprawled on the ground.
"Tripped over a tree root," he growled, getting to his feet again.
"Well, with feet that size, hard not to," said a drawling voice behind them.
Hermione would know that voice anywhere. The three friends turned sharply. Draco Malfoy was standing alone, leaning against a tree, looking unnaturally relaxed for the situation. His arms were folded. He was so calm, it was as if he was watching another Quidditch match rather than the chaos they were experiencing.
Hermione felt Ron stiffen next to her, and suddenly, Ron was telling Malfoy to do something that would have made Hermione blush if she hadn't been so terrified.
"Language, Weasley," said Malfoy. "Hadn't you better be hurrying along now? You wouldn't like her spotted, would you?" Malfoy nodded at Hermione. She felt her blood boil like last year when she punched Malfoy in the face.
"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 mid-air? Because if you do, hang around, they're moving this way, and it would give us all a laugh."
"Hermione's a witch," Harry snarled as he put his arm out to steady Hermione. She appreciated Harry sticking up for her, but what she wanted to do was hit him again. She absolutely hated that Draco Malfoy, of all people, just spoke her biggest fear out into the universe.
"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. The word 'Mudblood' bit into Hermione's heart with sharp teeth - it was one of the worst slurs someone could say about a Witch or Wizard with Muggle parentage. Nonetheless, she knew she had to calm herself and the boys down. There were many more important things to worry about.
"Never mind, Ron," said Hermione quickly, seizing Ron's arm to restrain him as he took a step towards Malfoy. She knew they had to get as far away from Malfoy as possible.
There came a bang from the other side of the trees that was louder than anything they had heard before. Several people nearby screamed, but Malfoy stayed cool as could be.
"Scare easily, don't they?" he said, almost lazily. "I suppose your daddy told you all to hide. What's he up to, trying to rescue the Muggles?"
"Where're your parents?" said Harry haughtily. "Out there wearing masks, are they?" Hermione thought the exact same thing.
Malfoy turned his face to Harry, still smiling. "Well, if they were, I wouldn't be likely to tell you, would I, Potter?"
Hermione knew she had to get them out of this situation before things escalated even more. "Oh, come on," said Hermione. "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 off up the path again. She pretended not to have heard Malfoy's last jeer and did her best not to instinctively reach for her hair.
"I'll bet you anything his dad is one of that masked lot!" said Ron hotly.
"Well, with any luck, the Ministry will catch him!" said Hermione fervently. "Oh, I can't believe this. Where have the others got to?"
Fred, George and Ginny were nowhere to be seen, though the path was packed with plenty of other people, all of them looking nervously over their shoulders towards the commotion back at the campsite.
A huddle of teenagers in pyjamas was arguing vociferously a little way along the path. When they saw Hermione, Ron, and Harry, a girl with thick, curly hair turned and said quickly. "Où est Madame Maxime? Nous l'avons perdue –"
"Er – what?" said Ron.
"Oh ." The girl who had spoken turned her back on him, and as they walked on, they distinctly heard her say, "'Ogwarts."
"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." Hermione had looked it up after her trip to France last year, where she quite literally ran into a fellow witch.
"Oh... yeah... right," said Harry, but Hermione knew he had no idea what she was talking about.
"Fred and George can't have gone that far," said Ron, pulling out his wand, lighting it like Hermione, and squinting up the path.
"Ah, no, I don't believe it... I've lost my wand!" Harry exclaimed.
"You're kidding?" Hermione sighed.
Ron and Hermione raised their wands high enough to spread the narrow beams of light further on the ground; they looked all around, 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..."
Hermione couldn't help but think Harry doubted her explanation. A rustling noise made all three of them jump. Winky, the house-elf, was fighting her way out of a clump of bushes nearby. She was moving most peculiarly, apparently with great difficulty; it was as though someone invisible was trying to hold her back.
"There is bad wizards about!" she squeaked distractedly as she leant forwards and laboured to keep running. "People high – high in the air! Winky is getting out of the way!"
And she disappeared into the trees on the other side of the path, panting and squeaking as she fought the force that was restraining her.
"What's up with her?" said Ron, looking curiously after Winky. "Why can't she run properly?"
"Bet she didn't ask permission to hide," said Harry.
"You know, house-elves get a very raw deal!" said Hermione indignantly. "It's slavery. That's what it is! That Mr Crouch made her go up to the top of the stadium, and she was terrified, and he's got her bewitched so she can't even run when they start trampling tents! Why doesn't anyone do something about it?"
"Well, the elves are happy, aren't they?" Ron said. "You heard old Winky back at the match: 'House-elves is not supposed to have fun.' That's what she likes, being bossed around."
"It's people like you, Ron," Hermione began hotly, her temper flaring, "who prop up rotten and unjust systems just because they're too lazy to-"
Another loud bang echoed from the edge of the wood, cutting her off. Hermione jumped despite herself.
"Let's just keep moving, shall we?" said Ron. Hermione nodded and followed closely behind as they set off again.
They followed the path deeper and deeper, still keeping an eye out for Fred, George, and Ginny.
They passed a group of goblins, who were cackling over a sack of gold they had undoubtedly won betting on the match and seemed quite unperturbed by the trouble on the campsite. Further 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 Veela standing in a clearing, surrounded by a gaggle of young wizards, all of whom were talking very loudly.
"I pull down about a hundred sacks of Galleons a year," one of them shouted. "I'm a dragon killer for the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures."
"No, you're not," yelled his friend. "You're a dishwasher at the Leaky Cauldron... but I'm a Vampire Hunter. I've killed about ninety so far." By the looks of him, Hermione knew at once he did no such thing.
A third young wizard, whose pimples were visible even by the dim, silvery light of the Veela, now cut in, "I'm about to become the youngest ever Minister for Magic, I am."
Suddenly, Ron shouted next to her. "Did I tell you I've invented a broomstick that'll reach Jupiter?"
"Honestly!" said Hermione again, and she and Harry grabbed Ron firmly by 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.
Harry looked around. "I reckon we can just wait here, you know, we'll hear anyone coming a mile off."
The words were hardly out of his mouth when Ludo Bagman emerged from behind a tree right ahead of them. He looked very white and strained.
"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 each other, surprised.
"Well – there's a sort of riot going on," said Ron.
Bagman stared at him. "What?"
"On the campsite. Some people have got hold of a family of Muggles…"
Bagman swore loudly. "Damn them!" he said, looking quite distracted, and without another word, he Disapparated with a small pop.
"Not exactly on top of things, Mr Bagman, is he?" said Hermione, frowning.
"He was a great Beater, though," said Ron, leading the way off the path into a small clearing and sitting down on a patch of dry grass at the foot of a tree. "The Wimbourne Wasps won the league three times in a row while he was with them."
He took his small figure of Krum out of his pocket, set it down on the ground and watched it walk around for a while. Like the real Krum, the model was slightly duck-footed and round-shouldered, much less impressive on his splayed feet than on his broomstick.
Hermione wished she had something to occupy her thoughts like Ron. That was when she suddenly remembered the bracelet. Though she was sure Keelin knew something terrible was going on, Hermione knew she had to make sure. Hermione twisted the bracelet around her wrist three times as Finnegan instructed and whispered, "Riot at QWC. Cousin needs help. I am ok." She felt the bracelet grow warm and her message appear in the beads.
Satisfied she did all she could, Hermione tried to occupy her mind with something else. Nothing but worry would come. "I hope the others are OK," said Hermione, trying not to let the boys hear the fear in her voice.
"They'll be fine," said Ron.
"Imagine if your dad catches Lucius Malfoy," said Harry, sitting down next to Ron and watching the small figure of Krum slouching over the fallen leaves. "He's 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 Muggles, though," said Hermione nervously. "What if they can't get them down?" The reality had finally set in for her - she was starting to realise how much danger she really was in.
"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. Her stomach dropped to the ground. Harry and Ron glanced around, too. It sounded as though someone was staggering towards 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. Hermione held her breath. There was silence in response. Harry got to his feet and peered around the tree. "Who's there?" he said.
And then, without warning, the silence was rent by a voice unlike any they had heard in the woods.
"MORSMORDRE!"
And something vast, green, and glittering erupted from the patch of darkness.
"What the-" gasped Ron, springing to his feet.
Hermione looked up, and her heart skipped a beat. There, in the sky, was a colossal skull with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. The mark rose higher and higher, blazing in a haze of greenish smoke.
Suddenly, the woods all around them erupted with screams, and Hermione felt herself joining them.
It was the Dark Mark. HIS dark mark.
Hermione twisted her bracelet again. "Dark Mark! Apparate!"
"Who's there?!" called Harry again. He hadn't reacted at all. They needed to get out of there and fast.
Hermione grabbed the back of Harry's jacket and pulled hard. "Harry, come on, move!" she shouted.
But Harry planted his feet. "What's the matter?" Harry asked dimly.
"It's the Dark Mark, Harry!" Hermione moaned, trying to pull him again. "You Know Who's sign!"
She saw the recognition finally ignite in his eyes. "Voldemort's-"
"Harry, come on!" she screamed again.
She, Ron, and Harry took off across the clearing, but before they had taken more than a few steps, a series of popping noises announced the arrival of twenty wizards, appearing from thin air, surrounding them. Each had their wand out, and every wand was pointing at her, Ron, and Harry.
"Duck!" Harry screamed next to her, and he pulled Hermione to the ground.
"STUPIFY", roared twenty voices. There was a blinding series of flashes all around them. Above their heads, she saw jets of fiery red lights flying all over them, bouncing off tree trunks.
"Stop!" yelled a familiar voice. "Stop! That's my son!"
Mr Weasley broke from the group of Wizards and sprinted towards them.
"Ron, Harry, Hermione! Are you all right?"
"Out of the way, Arthur," said a cold voice. It was Mr Crouch. He and the other Ministry wizards were surrounding them. His face was white with rage. "Which of you did it?" he snapped. "Which of you conjured the Dark Mark?"
"We didn't do that!" said Harry, pointing at the skull in the sky.
"We didn't do anything!" said Ron, who was rubbing his elbow and looking indignantly at his father. "What did you want to attack us for?"
"Do not lie, sir!" shouted Mr Crouch. His wand was still pointing directly at Ron, and his eyes were popping – he looked slightly mad. "You have been discovered at the scene of the crime!"
"Barty," whispered a witch in a long, woollen dressing gown. Hermione looked at her and swore she recognised her. "They're kids, Barty. They'd never have been able to –"
"Where did the Mark come from, you three?" said Mr Weasley quickly.
"Over there," said Hermione shakily, pointing at the place where they had heard the voice. "There was someone behind the trees... they shouted words – an incantation –"
"Oh, stood over there, did they?" said Mr Crouch, turning his popping eyes on Hermione now, disbelief etched all over his face. She nearly had to take a step back at the vitriol and hatred behind his words. "Said an incantation, did they? You seem very well informed about how that Mark is summoned, missy -"
But she could tell none of the Ministry wizards (apart from Mr Crouch) seemed to think it remotely likely that Harry, Ron or Hermione had conjured the skull. On the contrary, at Hermione's words, they had raised all their wands again and were pointing in the direction she had indicated, squinting through the dark trees.
"We're too late," said the witch in the woollen dressing gown, shaking her head. "They'll have Disapparated." Hermione noticed the Witch wearing a bracelet very similar to hers. The witch must be Keelin!
"I don't think so," said a wizard with a scrubby brown beard. It was Amos Diggory, Cedric's father. "Our Stunners went right through those trees. There's a good chance we got them."
"Amos, be careful!" said a few of the wizards warningly as Mr Diggory squared his shoulders, raised his wand, marched across the clearing and disappeared into the darkness. Hermione watched him vanish with her hands over her mouth.
A few seconds later, they heard Mr Diggory shout. "Yes! We got them! There's someone here! Unconscious! It's – but – blimey..."
"You've got someone?" shouted Mr Crouch, sounding highly disbelieving. "Who? Who is it?"
They heard snapping twigs, the rustling of leaves, and then crunching footsteps as Mr Diggory re-emerged from behind the trees. He was carrying a tiny, limp figure in his arms. Hermione recognised the tea towel at once. It was Winky.
Hermione's eyes shifted immediately to Mr Crouch. He did not move or speak as Mr Diggory deposited Mr Crouch's elf on the ground at his feet. The other Ministry wizards were all staring at Mr Crouch. For a few seconds, Crouch remained transfixed, his eyes blazing in his white face as he stared down at Winky. Then he appeared to come to life again.
"This – cannot – be," he said jerkily. "No –"
He moved quickly around Mr Diggory and strode off towards the place where he had found Winky.
"No point, Mr Crouch," Mr Diggory called after him. "There's no one else there."
But Mr Crouch did not seem prepared to take his word for it. They could hear him moving around, the rustling of leaves as he pushed the bushes aside, searching.
"Bit embarrassing," Mr Diggory said grimly, looking down at Winky's unconscious form. "Barty Crouch's house-elf... I mean to say..."
"Come off it, Amos," said Mr Weasley quietly. "You don't seriously think it was the elf? The Dark Mark's a wizard's sign. It requires a wand."
"Yeah, and she had a wand," said Mr Diggory.
"What?" said Mr Weasley.
"Here, look." Mr Diggory held up a wand and showed it to Mr Weasley. The wand looked familiar, but Hermione couldn't place it. Her head was going a million miles a minute. "Had it in her hand. So that's clause three of the Code of Wand Use broken for a start. No non-human creature is permitted to carry or use a wand."
Just then, there was another pop, and Ludo Bagman Apparated right next to Mr Weasley. Looking breathless and disorientated, he spun on the spot, goggling upwards at the emerald green skull.
"The Dark Mark!" he panted, almost trampling Winky as he turned enquiringly to his colleagues. "Who did it? Did you get them? Barty! What's going on?"
Mr Crouch had returned empty-handed. His face was still ghostly white, and his hands and his toothbrush moustache were both twitching.
"Where have you been, Barty?" said Bagman. "Why weren't you at the match? Your elf was saving you a seat, too – Gulping gargoyles!" Bagman had just noticed Winky lying at his feet. "What happened to her?"
"I have been busy, Ludo," said Mr Crouch, still talking in the same jerky fashion, barely moving his lips. "And my elf has been Stunned."
"Stunned? By you lot, you mean? But why –?" Comprehension dawned suddenly on Bagman's round, shiny face; he looked up at the skull, down at Winky and then at Mr Crouch. "No!" he said. "Winky? Conjure the Dark Mark? She wouldn't know how! She'd need a wand for a start!"
"And she had one," said Mr Diggory. "I found her holding one, Ludo. If it's all right with you, Mr Crouch, I think we should hear what she's got to say for herself."
Crouch gave no sign that he had heard Mr Diggory, but Mr Diggory seemed to take his silence for assent. He raised his own wand, pointed it at Winky and said, "Rennervate!"
Winky stirred feebly. Her great brown eyes opened, and she blinked several times in a bemused sort of way. Watched by the silent wizards, she raised herself shakily into a sitting position. She caught sight of Mr Diggory's feet and slowly, tremulously, raised her eyes to stare up into his face; then, more slowly still, she looked up into the sky. Hermione could see the floating skull reflected twice in her enormous, glassy eyes. She gasped, looked wildly around the crowded clearing and burst into terrified sobs. Hermione's heart broke for her. She knew, right then and there, that Winky did not conjure the Dark Mark. But if Winky didn't, who did?
"Elf!" said Mr Diggory sternly. "Do you know who I am? I'm a member of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures!"
Winky began to rock backwards and forwards on the ground, her breath coming in sharp bursts. Hermione knew a panic attack when she saw one.
"As you see, elf, the Dark Mark was conjured here a short while ago," said Mr Diggory. "And you were discovered moments later, right beneath it! An explanation, if you please!"
"I – I – I is not doing it, sir!" Winky gasped. "I is not knowing how, sir!"
"You were found with a wand in your hand!" barked Mr Diggory, brandishing it in front of her.
"Hey – that's mine!" Harry said, and Hermione immediately realised he was right. She had recognised the wand.
Everyone in the clearing looked at him.
"Excuse me?" said Mr Diggory, incredulously.
"That's my wand!" said Harry. "I dropped it!"
"You dropped it?" repeated Mr Diggory in disbelief. "Is this a confession? You threw it aside after you conjured the Mark?"
"Amos, think who you're talking to!" said Mr Weasley angrily. "Is Harry Potter likely to conjure the Dark Mark?"
"Er – of course not," mumbled Mr Diggory. "Sorry... carried away."
"I didn't drop it there, anyway," said Harry, jerking his thumb towards the trees beneath the skull. "I missed it right after we got into the woods."
"So," said Mr Diggory, his eyes hardening as he turned to look at Winky again, cowering at his feet. "You found this wand, eh, elf? And you picked it up and thought you'd have some fun with it, did you?" Hermione couldn't help but wince at the way Mr Diggory said 'elf.'
"I is not doing magic with it, sir!" squealed Winky, tears streaming down the sides of her squashed and bulbous nose. "I is... I is... I is just picking it up, sir! I is not making the Dark Mark, sir, I is not knowing how!"
"It wasn't her!" said Hermione. Her heart was thundering now, but she was determined to stand up for the poor elf. She couldn't let all of these Ministry members terrorise her any more than she already had been. "Winky's got a squeaky little voice, and the voice we heard doing the incantation was much deeper!" She looked round at Harry and Ron, appealing for their support. "It didn't sound anything like Winky, did it?"
"No," said Harry, shaking his head. "It definitely didn't sound like an elf."
"Yeah, it was a human voice," said Ron.
"Well, we'll soon see," growled Mr Diggory, looking unimpressed. Hermione wondered if Mr Diggory had a personal problem with Mr Crouch with how he acted. "There's a simple way of discovering the last spell a wand performed, elf. Did you know that?"
Winky trembled and shook her head frantically, her ears flapping, as Mr Diggory raised his own wand again and placed it tip to tip with Harry's.
"Prior Incantato!" roared Mr Diggory.
Hermione gasped, horrified, as a gigantic serpent-tongued skull erupted from the point where the two wands met, but it was a mere shadow of the green skull high above them. It looked like it was made of thick grey smoke: the ghost of a spell.
"Deletrius!" Mr Diggory shouted, and the smoky skull vanished in a wisp of smoke.
"So," said Mr Diggory with a kind of savage triumph, looking down upon Winky, who was still shaking convulsively.
"I is not doing it!" she squealed, her eyes rolling in terror. "I is not, I is not, I is not knowing how! I is a good elf, I isn't using wands, I isn't knowing how!"
"You've been caught red-handed, elf!" Mr Diggory roared. "Caught with the guilty wand in your hand!"
"Amos," said Mr Weasley loudly. "Think about it... precious few wizards know how to do that spell. Where would she have learnt it?"
"Perhaps Amos is suggesting," said Mr Crouch, cold anger in every syllable, "that I routinely teach my servants to conjure the Dark Mark?"
There was a profoundly unpleasant silence.
Amos Diggory looked horrified. "Mr Crouch... not... not at all..."
"You have now come very close to accusing the two people in this clearing who are least likely to conjure that Mark!" barked Mr Crouch. "Harry Potter – and myself! I suppose you are familiar with the boy's story, Amos?" Hermione had to agree with Mr Crouch - Amos seemed to have a need for assigning blame.
"Of course – everyone knows –" muttered Mr Diggory, looking highly discomfited.
"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 practise them?" Mr Crouch shouted, his eyes bulging again. Hermione didn't like the man, but Mr Crouch sure knew how to take charge of a situation.
"Mr Crouch, I – I never suggested you had anything to do with it!" muttered Amos Diggory, now reddening behind his scrubby brown beard.
"If you accuse my elf, you accuse me, Diggory!" shouted Mr Crouch. "Where else would she have learnt to conjure it?"
"She – she might've picked it up anywhere –"
"Precisely, Amos," said Mr Weasley. "She might have picked it up anywhere... Winky?" he said kindly, turning to the elf, but she flinched as though he, too, was shouting at her. "Where exactly did you find Harry's wand?"
Winky was twisting the hem of her tea towel so violently that it was fraying beneath her fingers.
"I – I is finding it... finding it there, sir..." she whispered, "there... in the trees, sir..."
"You see, Amos?" said Mr Weasley. "Whoever conjured the Mark could have Disapparated right after they'd done it, leaving Harry's wand behind. A clever thing to do, not using their own wand, which could have betrayed them. And Winky here had the misfortune to come across the wand moments later and pick it up."
"But then, she'd have been feet away from the real culprit!" said Mr Diggory impatiently. "Elf? Did you see anyone?"
Winky began to tremble worse than ever. Her giant eyes flickered from Mr Diggory to Ludo Bagman and Mr Crouch. Then she gulped and said, "I is seeing no one, sir... no one..."
"Amos," said Mr Crouch curtly, "I am fully aware that, in the ordinary course of events, you would want to take Winky into your department for questioning. I ask you, however, to allow me to deal with her. You may rest assured that she will be punished," Mr Crouch added coldly.
"M-m-master," Winky stammered, looking up at Mr Crouch, her eyes brimming with tears. "M-m-master, p-p-please..."
Mr Crouch stared back, his face somehow sharpened, each line upon it more deeply etched. There was no pity in his gaze. "Winky has behaved tonight in a manner I would not have believed possible," he said slowly. "I told her to remain in the tent. I told her to stay there while I went to sort out the trouble. And I find that she disobeyed me. This means clothes."
"No!" shrieked Winky, prostrating herself at Mr Crouch's feet. "No, master! Not clothes, not clothes!"
Hermione's heart broke for the poor elf. The poor elf had been mistreated for her whole life, so much so that she now felt as though she couldn't survive without her master. The poor elf was so brainwashed and abused that she thought being set free by receiving clothes was a punishment. This was how her loyalty and service were repaid? Mental anguish? And why? Just because she wasn't a "real" witch? If that was the case, where was the line drawn? Was Hermione less of a Witch because of her parentage? Was Malfoy right?
Her anger continued to boil up until it erupted.
"But she was frightened!" Hermione burst out angrily, glaring at Mr Crouch. "Your elf's scared of heights, and those wizards in masks were levitating people! You can't blame her for wanting to get out of their way!"
Mr Crouch took a step backwards, freeing himself from contact with the elf, whom he was surveying as though she was something filthy and rotten that was contaminating his over-shined shoes. Hermione nearly spat in his face.
"I have no use for a house-elf who disobeys me," he said coldly, looking up at Hermione. "I have no use for a servant who forgets what is due to her master and to her master's reputation."
Winky was crying so hard that her sobs echoed around the clearing. Hermione was so angry she couldn't speak. There was a very nasty silence, which was ended by Mr Weasley, who said quietly, "Well, I think I'll take my lot back to the tent, if nobody's got any objections. Amos, that wand's told us all it can – if Harry could have it back, please –"
Mr Diggory handed Harry his wand, and Harry pocketed it.
"Come on, you three," Mr Weasley said quietly. But Hermione didn't seem to want to move; her eyes were still upon the sobbing elf. "Hermione!" Mr Weasley said more urgently. She turned and followed Harry and Ron out of the clearing and off through the trees.
"What's going to happen to Winky?" said Hermione the moment they had left the clearing.
"I don't know," said Mr Weasley.
"The way they were treating her!" said Hermione furiously. "Mr Diggory, calling her 'elf' all the time... and Mr Crouch! He knows she didn't do it, and he's still going to sack her! He didn't care how frightened she'd been or how upset she was – it was like she wasn't even human!"
"Well, she's not," said Ron.
Hermione staggered as if she had been hit with a spell. She rounded towards Ron with fire in her eyes. "That doesn't mean she hasn't got feelings, Ron. It's disgusting the way –"
"Hermione, I agree with you," said Mr Weasley quickly, beckoning her on, "but now is not the time to discuss elf rights. I want to get back to the tent as fast as we can. What happened to the others?"
"We lost them in the dark," said Ron. "Dad, why was everyone so uptight about that skull thing?"
"I'll explain everything back at the tent," said Mr Weasley tensely.
But their progress was impeded when they reached the edge of the wood. A large crowd of frightened-looking witches and wizards was assembled there, and when they saw Mr Weasley coming towards them, many of them surged forwards.
"What's going on in there?"
"Who conjured it?"
"Arthur – it's not – him?"
"Of course it's not him," said Mr Weasley impatiently. "We don't know who it was. It looks like they Disapparated. Now excuse me, please. I want to get to bed."
He led Hermione, Ron, and Harry through the crowd and back into the campsite. All was quiet now; there was no sign of the masked wizards, though several ruined tents were still smoking.
Charlie's head was poking out of the boys' tent.
"Dad, what's going on?" he called through the dark. "Fred, George and Ginny got back OK, but the others –"
"I've got them here," said Mr Weasley, bending down and entering the tent. Hermione, Ron, and Harry entered after him. Hermione vaguely registered that the boys' tent was much bigger, but there were more important matters to focus on.
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. Fred, George and Ginny looked unhurt, though shaken.
"Did you get them, Dad?" said Bill sharply. "The person who conjured the Mark?"
"No," said Mr Weasley. "We found Barty Crouch's elf holding Harry's wand, but we're none the wiser about who actually conjured the Mark."
"What?" said Bill, Charlie and Percy together.
"Harry's wand?" said Fred.
"Mr Crouch's elf?" said Percy, sounding thunderstruck.
With some assistance from Hermione, Ron, and Harry, Mr Weasley explained what had happened in the woods. When they had finished their story, Percy swelled indignantly.
"Well, Mr Crouch is quite right to get rid of an elf like that!" he said. Hermione's head snapped to stare at him, not believing the words coming out of his mouth. Was she the only one who cared about the poor house elf? "Running away when he'd expressly told her not to, embarrassing him in front of the whole Ministry... how would that have looked if she'd been had up in front of the Department for the Regulation and Control –"
"She didn't do anything – she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time!" Hermione snapped at Percy, who looked very taken aback. Percy bustled and steeled himself quickly.
"Hermione, a wizard in Mr Crouch's position can't afford a house-elf who's going to run amok with a wand!" said Percy pompously. His tone reignited the fire within her.
"She didn't run amok!" shouted Hermione. "She just picked it up off the ground!"
"Look, can someone just explain what that skull thing was?" said Ron impatiently. "It wasn't hurting anyone... why's it such a big deal?"
"I told you, it's You-Know-Who's symbol, Ron," said Hermione before anyone else could answer. "I read about it in The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts."
"And it hasn't been seen for thirteen years," said Mr Weasley quietly. "Of course, people panicked... it was almost like seeing You-Know-Who back again."
"I don't get it," said Ron, frowning. "I mean... it's still only a shape in the sky."
"Ron, You-Know-Who and his followers sent the Dark Mark into the air whenever they killed," said Mr Weasley. "The terror it inspired... you have no idea. You're too young. Just picture coming home and finding the Dark Mark hovering over your house and knowing what you're about to find inside," Mr Weasley winced. "Everyone's worst fear... the very worst…"
There was silence for a moment.
Then Bill, removing the sheet from his arm to check on his cut, said, "Well, it didn't help us tonight, whoever conjured it. It scared the Death Eaters away the moment they saw it. They all Disapparated before we'd got near enough to unmask any of them. We caught the Robertses before they hit the ground, though. They're having their memories modified right now."
"Death Eaters?" said Harry. "What are Death Eaters?"
"It's what You-Know-Who's supporters called themselves," said Bill before Hermione could have the chance to speak. She was, quite frankly, surprised that Harry Potter, of all people, didn't know what Death Eaters were. "I think we saw what's left of them tonight – the ones who managed to keep themselves out of Azkaban, anyway."
"We can't prove it was them, Bill," said Mr Weasley. "Though it probably was," he added hopelessly.
"Yeah, I bet it was!" said Ron suddenly. "Dad, we met Draco Malfoy in the woods, and he as good as told us his dad was one of those nutters in masks! And we all know the Malfoys were right in with You-Know-Who!"
"But what were Voldemort's supporters –" Harry began. Everybody flinched – like most of the wizarding world, the Weasleys and Hermione always avoided saying Voldemort's name. "Sorry," said Harry quickly. "What were You-Know-Who's supporters up to, levitating Muggles? I mean, what was the point?"
"The point?" said Mr Weasley, with a hollow laugh that chilled Hermione down to her bones. She had never heard Mr Weasley so despondent. "Harry, that's their idea of fun. Half the Muggle killings back when You-Know-Who was in power were done for fun. I suppose they had a few drinks tonight and couldn't resist reminding us all that lots of them are still at large. A nice little reunion for them," he finished disgustedly.
"But if they were the Death Eaters, why did they Disapparate when they saw the Dark Mark?" said Ron. "They'd have been pleased to see it, wouldn't they?"
"Use your brains, Ron," said Bill. "If they really were Death Eaters, they worked really hard to keep out of Azkaban when You-Know-Who lost power and told all sorts of lies about him, forcing them to kill and torture people. I bet they'd be even more frightened than the rest of us to see him come back. They denied they'd ever been involved with him when he lost his powers and went back to their daily lives... I don't reckon he'd be over-pleased with them, do you?"
"So... whoever conjured the Dark Mark..." said Hermione slowly, thinking it through in her head, "were they doing it to show support for the Death Eaters or to scare them away?"
"Your guess is as good as ours, Hermione," said Mr Weasley. "But I'll tell you this... it was only the Death Eaters who ever knew how to conjure it. I'd be very surprised if the person who did it hadn't been a Death Eater once, even if they're not now... Listen, 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 then try and get an early Portkey out of here."
Hermione and Ginny waved their goodbyes and headed to their own tent. Hermione was kind of wary about being in the tent alone, but she really didn't want to deal with anyone, especially Ron. The way he had no regard for poor Winky cut her to the core.
A few minutes after both girls lay down, Ginny broke the silence. "Are you still awake?"
"Yes," Hermione answered.
"I don't think I am going to be able to sleep," Ginny muttered.
"Me neither."
"So what really happened?" Ginny's head popped down from the top bunk.
Hermione gave her a quick overview of the whole chain of events. "And everyone was just so terrible to poor Winky," she added at the end. "She was clearly terrified and couldn't have conjured the Mark if she had tried."
"Well, it's not like House Elves have that great of a reputation in the Wizarding World," Ginny said passively.
"Yes, and neither do Mudbloods," Hermione spat. "And yet, here I am."
"Fair point."
"Just because someone is different doesn't mean they are less worthy of respect," Hermione said a little more calmly.
"I totally agree," said Ginny tentatively. "But I hate to point out the obvious: you're working against centuries of prejudices."
"That doesn't make it right, though," Hermione said.
"Agreed," Ginny sighed. "So, if it wasn't Winky, who do you reckon it was?"
"I'm not sure," Hermione said. "Though looking back at it now, Mr Crouch definitely knows more than he said. He's hiding something. I just know it."