Izuku finds himself thoroughly baffled, yet also utterly impressed, as he descends from the Top Box with everyone else. A wash of voices rushes over them all, everyone talking about the game. Fred and George crow, bragging about their bet to their father and hinting at 'big plans'.

"So, mate, how did you enjoy the game?" Ron asks, elbowing Izuku in the side. Izuku turns to find Ron, as well as Harry and Hermione, peering at him with curious eyes.

"They were very fast," he replies. Then, after thinking about it for a moment, "I think I'm a bit more excited to try getting on a broom, now."

Ron cheers. "We'll have that match yet! Hey, hey, think you'd play Beater or Chaser? You have the build for Beater, I think—"

"He definitely has the strength for it," Ginny adds.

Izuku considers for a moment. Yes, he has the strength for it, and the hand-eye coordination, but those aren't the only considerations. "I think I'd like Chaser," he finally answers.

"Well, nothing wrong with that." Ron shrugs. "I'm going to try out for Keeper, this year—the last one, Oliver Wood, just graduated, so I've been practicing—I've finally got a chance."

They shove through the crush of people flooding into the stairs from the various levels of the stadium, and as they step down the stairs, Izuku chokes down the rising anxiety which tells him that this would be a very good time for a villain to attack. If someone was aiming for the most casualties amongst a population of people who can most all teleport at whim, catching them when they're all crammed into narrow staircases would be the moment to strike.

No attacks occur while they're in the stairway. Neither do any occur while they're walking through the forest, and Izuku starts breathing easy as they approach the tents.

None of them are ready, or able, to sleep yet, all still buzzing with adrenaline from the match. When Krum took a Bludger to the face and caught the Snitch with a broken, bloody nose, Izuku felt the tug of a kindred spirit. Part of him wants to go find the Bulgarian Seeker and introduce himself, but there are two problems with that: he can hardly introduce himself as "Midoriya Izuku, that 1-A kid who repeatedly broke his bones on national television", and he remembers exactly how awkward (and terrifying) it is to be approached by utter strangers who know his face.

Izuku isn't the only one stuck on Krum, it seems, as Harry and Ron dive into an active, half-yelled review of everything he did in the match while Hermione, cheeks flushed dark, stares into her hot cocoa.

Eventually, after everyone's finished their cocoa, Mr. Weasley shoos them all off to bed. Hermione and Ginny head off to their own tent, leaving Izuku a little envious—the two of them have one to themselves, while the eight of them have to all cram into one.

"I'm glad I'm not on duty," Mr. Weasley murmurs as distant singing and the occasional odd bang echoes across the field. "I wouldn't fancy having to go and tell the Irish they've got to stop celebrating."

Someone mumbles a sleepy agreement, and Izuku finds himself gradually drifting off.

Only to awaken suddenly, his head ringing.

Danger Sense.

He hadn't realized how quiet it had been, without Danger Sense almost constantly humming lowly in the background, but now it screams, a tolling klaxon which sends him tumbling out of his bunk as distant shouts and screams grow closer.

Another goddamn sporting match turned into a riot. Color him surprised.

He's already shoving on his shoes and pulling on his hoodie (almost-new, dark crimson like Ryukyu's costume, found shoved deep in a closet and likely belonging to broad-shouldered Charlie considering how overlarge it hangs on Izuku's frame) by the time others in the tent begin to stir.

Mr. Weasley wakes fast, shaking Charlie, Bill, and Percy awake and pushing past Izuku with a quick "You wake the others, just in case!" while the three eldest Weasley sons step into the living room to change.

Izuku wakes the twins first. They blearily blink sleep from their eyes, but, familiar with the sounds of explosions (big ones), wake quickly.

Before Izuku can wake Ron and Harry, Mr. Weasley comes blowing back in and shakes their shoulders.

"There's a riot—we're not sure who or why—head into the woods with Harry, Ron, and the girls, and yes, I'm talking to all three of you—oh, for the love of—! Harry, Ron, wake up, it's urgent!"

Izuku pulls Fred and George outside, where they're soon joined by Harry and Ron, both looking around with sleep-muzzed eyes. Fleeing, panicked people push past them, screaming and shouting and running full-tilt for the trees. Not all of the pops are from explosions or wands: those that can or remember to apparate do so.

A flash of green lights up the riot: a crowd of people all dressed in black, faces hidden under ornate silver masks. All hold their wands aloft, pointed straight up at spinning, wriggling, writhing forms: the silhouettes of people, black against the starry night.

More join the march, drunken laughter ringing through the night as odd flashes flicker and blur. They blast tents out of their way, fire catching and spreading around them.

The firelight of a burning tent catches the features of those suspended in the air: Mr. Roberts, and those who are likely his wife and children. Someone flips Mrs. Roberts upside down with their wand, and the crowd of rioters hoots and screeches as she desperately tries to hold the skirt of her nightgown up.

"That's sick. That's really sick …."

Izuku's stomach twists in agreement with Ron's words and he takes a step forward—

Someone wraps an arm around his elbow and tugs him back. Izuku whips around, right fist raised to strike whoever grabbed him, only to pull short as George shields his face.

"Hey, we're still underaged and not trained for this," Fred jumps in. "The aurors will handle it."

Izuku may be underaged, but the second half of that statement is categorically false: he has been trained, quite extensively, in fact, at one of the premier hero schools in the world—

Which may not exist in this world.

Mr. Weasley chases Hermione and Ginny out of their tent while Bill, Percy, and Charlie emerge from theirs and tear across the field towards the riot. George lets go of Izuku's arm to grab Fred's hand, and Fred grabs Ginny, and the three of them take off running for the woods, followed by Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

Izuku, hesitating, follows them, acid rising in his throat.

Is he really running away?

The group pauses at the edge of the trees, turning back to glance one last time at the riot. The crowd had grown larger, Ministry wizards confronting it with wands raised.

"They're worried they might make the Death Eaters drop the muggles," Fred says, before he's tugged off into the woods by George. The whole group runs into the darkness, Ron the last one to vanish underneath the canopy.

After watching the other kids take off, Izuku turns and runs the other direction, pulling his hood over his head—it would be very awkward if any of the adult Weasleys recognized him.

He darts through the fleeing people with practiced ease, blood singing with adrenaline. Though he hasn't been able to dedicate as much time to training as he could at UA, he made the most of it, and the rest has done him well. His dance is almost effortless, pirouetting around people and weaving through tents.

The Ministry wizards have cut off the riot's advance toward the forest, a semi-circle of raised wands pointed at the jeering crowd who point their own wands back. Izuku loops around toward the back, where new rioters still join, the mass of people easily two-hundred strong. The black-robed wizards, the inciters of the riot, stand at the center, wands still pointed directly in the air. As if birds aloft on a thermal, the Roberts family rises higher and higher, one of the children hanging limp and unmoving while the parents and other child still scream and struggle.

Izuku's gut drops—that was the one they set spinning and spinning who now flops, and from this distance, he can't tell if the child is dead or not.

It wouldn't be hard for one of the masked wizards to decide to kill their victims. They could drop them, yes, but they could also thrash them to death, spin them so fast their blood can't pump correctly, forcefully contort their bodies until spines snap—

He'll have to move fast. No problem—he caught a bullet in a kick before it could hit him.

Speed isn't an issue.

Taking a deep breath, Izuku sends Blackwhip to reinforce his limbs. In front of him, the two sides begin trading hexes and curses, spells peppering shining shield charms.

No one in the crowd shields from the sky.

Izuku activates Full Cowl, One For All flooding hot through him, and takes off, a blur of lightning arcing over the crowd as he twists his hips and kicks, power spiking through his leg. Float keeps him in the air, provides the resistance to his strike as wind blasts the black-robed rioters.

They've never calculated the strength of the winds he can create, but All Might could change the weather, and Izuku's kick is strong enough to send the wizards staggering and crashing into each other.

He's ready when the spells drop on the Roberts family, Blackwhip catching them securely as he turns—it's like swimming, almost, flying with Float, like swimming through the sky—and kicks off, leaving the riot and flying spells behind him and not landing until they're far across the other side of the field, the whole other side of the camp, where he releases the Roberts and crouches down to find a pulse in the still boy's wrist.

It's there, faint, but there, and Izuku only has a moment to feel any sort of relief before Mrs. Roberts, screaming, descends upon him with fists and fury. He raises his own arms only to shield his head, taking her blows with a long familiarity.

"I mean you no harm!" he yells back. "I know first-aid—non-magical first-aid—and I only want to help!"

"Get away from my son, you horrible—you—"

"Elise," Mr. Roberts says, from where he crouches, arms wrapped around his shaking, sobbing older son. He stares at Izuku with wide eyes, face tight with terror. "Elise, James—"

Mrs. Roberts cries out, turning toward her unconscious son.

"He's alive," Izuku blurts out, "but unconscious. I felt a pulse—"

Mrs. Roberts turns back toward him, eyes glowing with rage.

"I promise, I promise I only want to help you," he stammers, hands raised in surrender. "I had to do something—I couldn't just do nothing—"

A splitting in his head. Izuku turns, One For All burning to life, leg swinging around to catch whatever blow is coming for him.

Red lights flash, flickers like muzzle fire.

His leg, wreathed in green lightning, catches the spells and deflects them. The wizards shout and duck, some raising shield spells, others catching their own spells in the chest and falling to the ground, unconscious. All four of the adult Weasleys are among those left standing, their wands still pointed at Izuku.

"Hand over the muggles," someone says, a man, voice harsh, "and we'll spare you Azkaban."

Izuku chances a quick glance to the side, to Mrs. Roberts clutching her unconscious son, pulled close to her husband's chest while he held their other son, all three of them shaking in fear while one does not move at all.

"And shall you just wipe their memories?" Izuku lets Yoichi speak through him, changing the lilt and cadence of his voice. "Let them exist with this unknown trauma? Their minds may forget but their bodies will know. You'll curse them to never understand why they fear?"

"It's the law—"

"You can make us forget this?"

Mrs. Roberts, voice shaking and thick with tears, cuts off the Ministry wizard. She leans forward, light hair falling messily around her face, pulled free from a night-time bun.

"You can make us forget?" she repeats again.

"Uh, yes—"

"Then we'll come with you," she declares, before turning toward Izuku. Her whole body trembles as she stands. "Thank you for saving us from them. But I—"

She glances toward her son, pale and sickly in the green light of Izuku's quirk.

Izuku meets her gaze.

"They don't need to remember this," she whispers, something shattered in her eyes.

A protest rises in his throat, but he swallows it and nods, before kicking off into the air again. The Ministry wizards shout, several jets of different-colored light flying past him, but he's already gone, letting the flicker of Full Cowl fade and instead pulling himself along with Blackwhip while Float keeps him in the air.

He can't fault Mrs. Roberts for her decision—if given the choice, Izuku would wipe every bit of the suffering Eri had experienced at Overhaul's hands from her, would take her trauma onto his own shoulders if it meant she didn't need to hurt from it.

His stomach still roils as he stumbles to the earth, hands meeting rough oak bark as he leans against a tree to steady himself. He's seen cruelty, Overhaul and All For One and Dictator. He's seen those who enjoy it, Muscular chief among them.

He still doubles over and vomits, heaving until nothing comes up but bile. It hadn't quite struck him until today just what magic might be able to accomplish. Quirks, yes, came in every variety under the sun and could be abused to sick ends, but the sheer depth and scope of tortures offered by magic—

He's not sure he'll be sleeping at night for a long, long time.

"Dad, that sounded like—"

"I know." Arthur cuts Percy off, turning toward his son. Percy looks up at him, eyes wide, face twisted, caught between shock and offense.

"He needs—we should—he broke the law," Percy finally settles on. "He's untrained, and—"

"And however he did it, he sent the Death Eaters packing and caught the Roberts family before they could fall from a height that would have been fatal," Bill interrupts this time. "As far as I'm concerned, we should be giving him a medal and a pat on the back."

"But—"

"Percy, I'll speak to him." Part of Arthur feels bad, cutting his son off again, but they don't have the time for this. "Later, at home. Right now, we need to find the kids, and Midoriya, wherever he ran off to."

"Dad, you're not seriously considering bringing him back to the Burrow?" Percy exclaims. "We've had—we've had that under our roof the entire time, and—"

"And he's done nothing to earn our distrust," Arthur counters. "If nothing else, the fact he acted to help those muggles has only earned mine more."

Percy huffs. "Fine."

"We'll split up and comb the woods," Bill declares. "And send a Patronus when we find them—"

"Why don't we just send them a Patronus, telling them to meet us back at the tent?" Charlie suggests.

Flustered, Bill nods. "Right. Or we could do that."

Scraping together a collection of happy memories—his children's births, the days Fred and George used to join him with tinkering in the shed, playing a game of backyard Quidditch with all his siblings when he was younger—he casts his Patronus and sends the silver weasel off towards the woods, instructing it to find all his children in there (including, of course, Harry, Hermione, and Midoriya) and send them back to the tents.

Hopefully, none of them have been hurt.

All four of them apparate back to the tents, which are miraculously still standing, and wait for the kids to return.

Fred, George, and Ginny return first, a fact which, once he gets finished checking over them to make sure they're not hurt, sends his heart sinking. This means they must have gotten separated—

A flash of motion draws Arthur's eye. Charlie grabs Percy's hand, which had been heading for his wand as he glared at something. Following his glare, Arthur catches sight of Midoriya stumbling out of the woods, pale and drawn.

"Remember," he hisses into Percy's ear, "let Molly and I handle this. He is a child, not a criminal."

"Nothing says you can't be both," Percy whispers back, venom in his voice.

"I'll keep an eye on him," Charlie murmurs. "But the others are watching."

So they are, Fred, George, and Ginny, despite the terrifying incident they just experienced, all stare at them, though Ginny's gaze flicks back and finally catches sight of Midoriya who, now that he's closer, Arthur can see trembling like a leaf in the wind.

"There you are!" she exclaims, turning and running toward him. She throws herself at him, and Arthur's half expecting him to collapse and send them both tumbling to the ground. Instead, he catches her, lifting her up as she wraps her arms and legs around him. "Do you have any idea how worried we were when you vanished?" She slugs him in the shoulder. Midoriya doesn't even wince, though Arthur knows from experience she hits hard. "Don't ever do that again!"

"Right." Midoriya's voice shakes, but even so, it's undeniable: this is the same voice that just addressed them from the side of the muggle victims. "I'll be sure not to."

The same voice, yes, but the same consciousness, Arthur has his doubts about. The choice of words, the tone, even the accent had shifted, slightly, different enough that it took Arthur a few moments to even recognize.

"I'm glad you're safe," Arthur says as he approaches. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

Midoriya sets Ginny down, though she sticks stubbornly next to him, and both Fred and George join them. For his part, Midoriya keeps his head down, eyes hidden behind his bangs as he replies. "I'm not hurt. Where … where's everyone else?"

A little part of Arthur screams in rage. If Midoriya had just stayed with the others, that kind of power, that kind of skill with them (because make no mistake—Arthur can recognize skill, can recognize the hours and hours of practice which go into making something look effortless the way Midoriya had twisted through the air and caught the Roberts family without even looking), then there would be a near guarantee the others would be safe—

"Dad!"

"Mr. Weasley!"

Speak of the devil. Ron, Harry, and Hermione all come sprinting out of the woods, frantic expressions on their face.

"Harry—"

"I lost—"

"He—"

"—wand!"

Arthur holds up a hand, unable to decipher anything from that mush of maybe-words. "I'm sorry, come again? One at a time."

"Harry lost his wand," Ron pants. "We can't find it."

"Well, that's a bit of a pickle." Arthur clicks his tongue and raises his own wand. "Accio Harry's wand!"

They wait. And they wait, maybe a minute and a half, the whole party growing restless and uneasy, before a small, thin shape comes flying toward them. Arthur raises a hand and neatly catches Harry's wand before flipping it around and offering it to him, handle-first.

"Oughta keep better track of that."

"Okay, but did anyone else notice that it didn't come from the woods?" Fred asks. "It came from all the way across the campground."

Arthur had noticed that. There was no way any of them could have gotten there and back here fast enough—unless they were Midoriya—without apparating, which none of those three know how to do.

"It's possible someone else picked it up," Bill suggests. "Harry, what's the last spell you performed with it?"

"Er—I was at school, I can't remember—"

"We can still check," Arthur says. "Hold up your wand." Harry does so, expression vaguely confused, but he watches closely as Arthur presses the tip of his own wand to it. "Priori Incantatem."

They all watch as ghostly shapes billow out of Harry's wand, the four of them who know what they mean inhaling sharply.

"Someone apparated with your wand, several times," Mr. Weasley says. "And cast a stunner. No one who had their own wand would do that—I think we need to find an auror."

"It's possible they mixed up which wand they were grabbing in the chaos," Percy suggests. Everyone gives him a dirty look, to which he turns bright red. "Alright. Yes. I know that no wizard would mix up another wand for their own, alright?"

"Who would be here without a wand, though?" Hermione asks, frowning furiously at the grass.

"There are lots of possibilities," Arthur replies before she can really get the gears turning. "But the rest of you should try and get some sleep while Harry and I find an auror to talk to. We'll be wanting to take one of the first portkeys out in …. Well, later today, I suppose," he finishes after a quick glance at his wristwatch.

Bill steps forward. "I'll come with you."

Arthur almost argues—even though the Death Eaters would have to be daft to come back, that thought doesn't do much to soothe the anxiety in his heart. The kids should have as many people here to protect them as possible.

Then he takes a second look at the gaggle of teenagers and young adults. Percy and Charlie both glance around, hands hovering near their wands, ready to leap into action at a moment's notice. Even Midoriya, from where he's pinned between two protective-looking twins, glances around, checking sightlines, head tilted like he could hear a threat coming.

Arthur and Molly know precious little about Midoriya's past, and all tonight has done is reveal just how lacking their knowledge truly is.

"Alright," Arthur agrees. "Charlie, Percy, keep a weather eye."

They both nod their agreements, Percy already turning to chase his younger siblings (plus three) back into their tents while Arthur, Bill, and Harry set off for the nearest auror not too preoccupied with cleanup.