As they walked back to where the Weasley’s tents were set up, Mr. Weasley warned the twins not to let their mother know they’d been gambling.  The twins grinned widely and Niamh whispered to Harry, “’Course they’re not going to let Mrs. Weasley know.  She’d confiscate it.”

Harry laughed at that and Ron said, “Too right.”

“Severus!”

All of them turned to see Lucius Malfoy striding towards them, his gray eyes focusing on the Weasley’s, Hermione, and Niamh with contempt.

“Ah, yes,” said Severus.  “You wanted to talk to me, didn’t you, Lucius?”

“Yes.”

“Could it wait?”

Lucius’ eyes narrowed and he growled, “No, it cannot.”

Severus sighed and turned to Mr. Weasley, saying, “Head on, Arthur.  I’ll be at the tents when I can.”

Mr. Weasley nodded and then Severus walked off with Malfoy.  Harry looked after his father, narrowing his eyes at Malfoy.  From his wrist Hedwig hissed, “Not good.  Not good at all.”

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Later that night, Harry was awoken by Mr. Weasley shouting into his ear.

“Get up!  Ron – Harry – come one now, get up, this is urgent!”

Harry sat up abruptly as Hedwig hissed something about evil humans and frowned down at Mr. Weasley from where his head was hitting the canvas.

“What’s wrong?” asked the teen as he slid down from the top bunk, catching the sounds of screams and running feet from outside.

“No time,” replied Mr. Weasley.  “Hurry and get outside – NOW!”

Harry did so, running out with Ron on his heels.  Outside he ran into Niamh, Ginny, and Hermione, who were all standing outside their tent staring at the scene before them.

People were fleeing into the woods, the lights of the still going fires barely making them visible in the dark.  They seemed to be running from something – something that was emitting odd flashes of light and noises like gunfire.  Loud jeering, roars of laughter, and drunken yells were drifting towards them.  Then came a brilliant green light that illuminated the scene.

A crowd of wizards was marching across the field, wands pointed skyward.  Their faces were hooded and masked and they were laughing.  Laughing at the four struggling figures being contorted into grotesque shapes above them.  Two of the figures were very small.

Harry’s stomach lurched as more wizards joined the marching group, laughing and pointing at the floating bodies.  Tents crumpled and fell as the marching crowd swelled, some of the tents catching fire as they were blasted out of the way.  More screams began to rise.

Mr. Weasley, Bill, Charlie, and Percy suddenly appeared, sleeves rolled up and wands in hands.

“We’re going to go help the Ministry,” said Mr. Weasley.  “You lot get into the woods and stick together!  I’ll come after you when we’ve sorted this out.”

As they sprinted off, Harry hissed, “Run?  He wants us to run!?”

“Harry, we have to go!” cried Hermione.  “They’re coming closer!”

Harry scowled at the oncoming Death Eaters – for he had a deep-set feeling that that is what they were – and snarled, “Run.  Run from a fight.”

“A fight that’s not ours, Harry!” snapped Niamh, grabbing her friend’s arm and tugging.  “Come on!  Don’t go Gryffindor on me!”

Ron, Hermione, and the nearby twins didn’t have the urge to make any say on that remark.

Harry scowled at Niamh then looked back at the still closer Death Eaters.  Blowing out hard through his nose, he snarled, “Fine,” and walked stiffly towards the woods.  The rest followed him.

Harry turned once to look through the trees at the crowd of wizards.  Ministry wizards were trying to push their way through the crowd to get to the hooded figures in the center.  They looked as though they were afraid to do magic as that might make the four Muggles spinning in the sky fall.

It was dark in the woods and Harry kept getting shoved this way and that by people running by, but he had been in situations like this before.  This panicked crowd was nothing compared to the full-out brawls in the slums.  He simply held tight to Niamh’s hand and ran as she kept urging him to do.  Until he heard Ron yell out suddenly.

“What happened?” asked Niamh as they stopped.

“Ron?  Ron, where are you?” called Hermione before muttering, “Oh this is stupid – lumos!”

Her wand illuminated and the light from it fell over Ron, who was sprawled on the ground.

“Tripped over a tree root,” he grumbled angrily as he got to his feet.

“Well, with feet that size, hard not to,” said a drawling voice.

The four of them turned sharply, noting that Ginny, Fred, and George had been lost in the crowd.  But there was Draco Malfoy, standing alone nearby, leaning against a tree and looking utterly relaxed.  His arms were crossed as he watched the scene at the campsite through a gap in the trees.

“Go to hell, Malfoy,” spat Ron.

“Language, Weasley,” said Draco.  “Hadn’t you better be hurrying along?  You wouldn’t want them spotted, now would you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” snapped Hermione.

“Their after Muggles,” said Niamh bitterly.  “He means that those bastards out there’ll get us because we’re Muggleborn.”

“Your both witches,” said Harry sharply.

“Have it your way, Potter,” said Draco with a cruel smile.  “If you think they can’t spot a Mudblood, stay here.”

“You watch your mouth!” shouted Ron as Harry’s hands clenched convulsively, eyes glittering.  Niamh grabbed his arm and turned him towards her, hissing, “This is NOT the time, Harry!”

Hermione tugged on Ron’s arm to restrain him.  “Nevermind, Ron,” she said.

A bang on the other side of the trees set people to screaming and Draco smirked.

“Scare easily, don’t they?”  He looked at Ron and continued, “I suppose your daddy told you all to hide?  What’s he up to – trying to rescue the Muggles?”

“Where’re your parents?” spat Harry, glaring at the other Slytherin.  “Are they out there wearing masks?”

“You’ll never know,” said Draco with a smile.  “Though I’d daresay that Professor Snape is.  I saw him myself.  Having a grand time he is.”

Niamh paled considerably and dragged Harry off before he would fling himself on Draco.  Eyes flashing, he jerked his arm out of Niamh’s grip and stormed off.  Hermione, Ron, and Niamh followed him, only pausing once to restrain Ron when Draco called out after them.

“Keep that bushy head down, Granger.  And don’t let them see your eyes, O’Feir.”

“Go fuck yourself, Malfoy,” spat Niamh, dragging Ron after Harry.  When they finally caught up with him, he was throwing punches at a tree.  As they approached, he whirled to face them, eyes burning brightly.  Niamh swore she saw his eyes go completely black for a moment but shook it off.

“He’s not out there,” spat Harry savagely.  “Malfoy doesn’t know what he’s talking about.  M – Snape’s not out there.”

“We believe you, mate,” said Niamh, echoed by Ron and Hermione’s nods.

Harry let out a breath through his teeth then looked around them.  Nearby, but not close enough to hear, were groups of people, all looking back over shoulders at the campsite.

Ron suddenly spat, “I bet his dad is one of that masked lot.”

Hermione suddenly turned to Harry and asked, “Why would Professor Snape be out there, Harry?  Is there something you haven’t told us?”  Her brown eyes suddenly lit up and she added, “Like what you told me when I told you Neville knew.  You said it was dangerous for anyone to know.”

Ron and Hermione were now watching Harry expectantly, who now looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a car.  Niamh had also paled considerably then said, “We can talk about this later.  What’s more important is…”

“Où est Madame Maxime?  Nous l’avons perdue – ”

“Eh?”  Niamh turned to face a curly haired girl in pajamas who was standing behind her.

The girls nose wrinkled and she said, “’Ogwarts,” before walking away.

“Beauxbatons,” muttered Hermione and Harry at the same time.

“Eh?” said Niamh again.

“Beauxbatons Academy of Magic,” replied Harry.  “Its in France.”

“Oh…really?” said Ron and Niamh in uninterested tones, causing Harry to glare at them.

“Come on,” said Hermione.  “We need to find Fred, George, and Ginny.”  She held up her illuminated wand and began to walk off, away from the clustered groups of teens and adults.  Ron lit his own hand as Harry pushed up the sleeves of his long-sleeve shirt to pull his wand out of its holster, which he had modified to strap to his forearm.  Niamh reached into her jacket for her own and cursed violently.

“What?” hissed the other three, staring at her for her vehemence.

Niamh dropped to her knees and began to run her hands over the dark ground.

“I lost my wand!”

Harry leaned over her, holding his wand high to shed light over the ground.  Ron and Hermione followed his example but after a few minutes of searching, none of them found the length of ebony that was Niamh’s wand.

“It must have fallen out of your pocket when we were running,” said Hermione.

“Yeah.  Dammit, why did I have to lose it now when I really need it?”

Harry gave Niamh’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze then began to walk forward.

“How come you get to lead?” asked Ron.

“Because he’s got better reflexes than the three of us combined and tripled,” replied Niamh, scowling.

“Oh.  Right.”

Harry frowned over his shoulder at them then whirled, pointing his wand at a bush as it rustled.  Winky the house-elf suddenly fought her way out of the bush, going past them in a peculiar fashion, leaning forward as she ran as though something was trying to pull her back.

“There is bad wizards about!  People high – high in the air!  Winky is getting out of the way!”

As she vanished into the trees on the other side of the path, she was still fighting the invisible force that seemed to be restraining her.

“What was that?” asked Ron.

“She probably didn’t asked permission to hide,” replied Harry, looking after the elf and remembering Dobby.  “Every time Dobby tried to tell me something the Malfoy’s wouldn’t like, he had to beat himself up.”

“Hold on.  A house-elf of the Malfoy’s helped you?”

“Yeah.”

“Weird.”

“Y’know,” said Hermione suddenly.  “House-elves get a very raw deal!  It’s slavery, that’s what it is!  That Mr. Crouch made her go up to the stadium, and she was terrified, and he’s got her bewitched so she can’t run when they start trampling tents!  Why doesn’t anyone do something about it?”

“Well, the elves are happy, aren’t they?” asked Ron, earning a fierce glare form Hermione.

“It’s people like you, Ron, who prop up rotten and unjust systems, just because they’re too lazy to – ”

Another loud bang rang out from the edge of the wood.

“Alright, Mister and Misses Let’s-Scream-Our-Heads-Off-At-Each-Other-While-Strange-Cloaked-Figures-Create-Havoc…  Enough!” snapped Niamh.

Harry sighed and said, “Let’s keep moving.”  He caught Ron’s eyes flicking to Hermione and his own moved to hover on Niamh for a moment.  The same feeling that had come onto him when Cedric had kissed Niamh’s hand came upon him and a voice in his head hissed darkly, They try and touch her and I’ll kill them.  Where had that come from?

But it was true.  They had to keep moving.  Niamh and Hermione were in more danger than he and Ron if they got caught.

Moving deeper into the woods, they kept an eye out for Fred, George, and Ginny, only pausing once to frown at the group of goblins cackling over a sack of gold that they had undoubtly won betting on the match.  As they moved past a trio of tall, beautiful veela standing in a clearing, they actually stopped.  The three veela were surrounded by a gaggle of young wizards, all of them talking loudly.

“I pull down about a hundred sacks of Galleons a year!” one 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 – ”

A third young wizard, pimples just visible in the dim light coming from the veela, declared, “I’m about to become the youngest ever Minister of Magic, I am.”

Harry snorted with laughter and Niamh joined him.  But both of them grew louder when Ron suddenly declared, “Did I tell you I’ve invented a broomstick that’ll reach Jupiter?”

“Honestly!” said Hermione, dragging Ron off with Harry and Niamh trailing her, both still laughing.  By the time the sounds of the veela and their admirers had faded away, Harry and Niamh’s laughter had as well.  They were in the heart of the wood now and it was as quiet as Death.

“We could wait here,” said Hermione.  “We’ll hear anyone coming a mile off.”

The words were just out of her mouth when Ludo Bagman appeared from behind a tree right in front of them.

Harry was the only one to extinguish his wand, automatically beginning to mouth to Stunning Charm before he recognized Bagman.  The man no longer looked buoyant and rosy-faced.  In fact, he looked very white and strained.

“Who’s that?  What are you doing in here, all alone?”

“Well,” said Ron, “There’s sort of a riot going on.”

Bagman blinked.

“What?”

“At the campsite…some people have got hold of a family of Muggles…”

“Damn them!” said Bagman, looking distracted then Disapparating with a small pop!

“No on top of things, is he?” asked Niamh.

“He was a great Beater though,” said Ron.  “The Wimbourne Wasps won the league three times in a row while he was with them.”

The ginger-haired boy sat down then, fishing his miniature Krum out of his pocket and sat it down, watching it walk around.  Like the real Krum, the model was slightly duck-footed and round-shouldered.  Harry watched it for a moment then looked off towards where the campsite was.  He could hear anything now.  Perhaps the riot was over…

“Not so easy,” hissed Hedwig and Harry frowned.

“What does that mean?” he asked the snake, receiving no reply.  Growling something unsavory under his breath, Harry sighed, leaning against a tree.

“I hope the others are okay,” said Hermione suddenly.

“They’re fine,” assured Niamh.

“I just hope my dad catches Lucius Malfoy,” said Ron.  “He’s been trying to get something on him for years.”

“That’d wipe that smirk off Malfoy’s face nicely,” remarked Niamh with a smirk.

“But those poor Muggles.  What if they can’t get them down?”  Hermione looked terrified at the thought.

“They will,” said Ron reassuringly.

“Somebody has to be mad, though, to do something with all the Ministry out here tonight,” said Niamh.

Snap.

A stick cracked somewhere to their right and all of them froze except for Harry, who was stepping away from the tree he had been leaning against, wand held at ready.  The four of them listened as someone staggered toward their clearing then stopped.

“Who’s there?” called Harry, his voice sharp.

No one answered by Harry could sense somebody there, just out of his vision.

“I said, who’s there?”

Without warning, a voice unlike any they had heard in the wood cried out, not in a panicked shout but in a spell.

“MORSMORDRE!”

A vast, green, and glittering thing erupted from a patch of darkness.  Harry aimed and let loose a Stunning Spell in that direction, cursing as he heard whoever it was crashing through the brush.  He’d missed!

“What the…” said Ron.

Harry turned and looked up into the sky.  Above him was a colossal skull, comprised of what appeared to be emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue.  As the four of them watched, it rose higher and higher, etched in the black sky like a constellation.

Harry suddenly went rigid.  He knew that symbol.  That was like the mark on his father’s arm.  The Dark Mark!  Voldemort’s Mark!

The wood about them erupted in screams at the sight of the Mark.  Niamh looked around in confusion but Ron and Hermione did not.  Hermione seized Harry’s arm and said, “Harry, come on, move!  It’s the Dark Mark!  You-Know-Who’s sign!”

“Voldemort??” breathed Niamh, staring up at the symbol.

Harry stumbled as Hermione pulled him then caught his balance.  She released his arm, yelling at Ron – who was scooping up his miniature Krum – before the four of them took off across the clearing.  They only took a few hurried steps when a series of popping noises announced the arrival of twenty wizards, each of them with their wands pointed at the four of them.

“DOWN!” he yelled to his friends, lifting his wand as the other wizards fired.

“STUPEFY!” roared twenty voices while Harry’s one howled, “TEGO TEXI INEXPUGNABILIS!”  A light blue bubble formed around Harry, Niamh, Ron, and Hermione, causing the throw hexes to bounce back at their casters.  The spells were banished and then the twenty wizards approached the bubble.  The wizards lifted their wands again, this time for probably a stronger spell, when a voice cried out.

“Stop!  STOP!  That’s my son!”

Harry turned to see Mr. Weasley running towards them, his own father right behind him, face haggard and drawn.

“Ron – Harry – Hermione – Niamh,” said Mr. Weasley, eyeing them through the shimmering shield.  “Are you all right?”

“Out of the way, Arthur,” said a cold, curt voice.

“Crouch,” growled Severus, “don’t be an idiot.  These children couldn’t have conjured the Dark Mark.”

“No,” snapped Mr. Crouch, glaring at Severus.  “But you could have!”

“Barty!” cried a woman in a long woolen dressing gown.  “Severus was proven Not Guilty of those charges!”

Mr. Crouch growled and pointed at the four teens behind the shield.

“They’re at the scene of the crime!”

“That doesn’t mean they conjured that damned thing!” roared Severus.

“Where did the Mark come from, you four?” asked Mr. Weasley through the shield.

“Over there,” said Niamh, pointing.  “Harry shot a Stunning Spell at them but they got away.  They shouted an incantation…”

“Stood over there, did they?” said Mr. Crouch disbelievingly.  “Said an incantation, did they?  You seem very well informed about how that Mark is summoned, missy – ”

“Don’t speak to one of my students that way, Crouch,” growled Severus.

“Are you threatening me, Snape?”

“Do you see it as one?”

“Yes!”

“Then no, I’m not.  Now get your damned head out of your ass!”

Niamh cheered silently for her professor while Ron and Hermione gaped in awe at him.  Harry grunted, still trying to hold the shield together, just incase the Ministry wizards got any ideas.  But from the looks on their faces – besides Crouch’s – none of them seemed to believe that he or his friends had conjured the Mark.  As he let the shield spell fall apart, the wizards turned to aim their wands in the direction Niamh had indicated.

“We’re too late,” said the witch in the woolen dressing gown.  “They’ll have Disapparated.

“I don’t think so,” said Amos Diggory.  “The girl said Harry shot off a Stunner at them.  There’s a good chance he got them…”

“Amos, be careful!” yelled a few of the wizards as Mr. Diggory marched forward into the trees, wand held before him.  As he did, Harry swooned suddenly and collapsed.

“HARRY!”

Niamh, Hermione, and Ron scrambled to catch their friend, along with Mr. Weasley.

“What’s wrong with him?” asked one Ministry wizard as they gathered around.

“Boy used a major shielding spell.  Must’ve taken a lot out of him.”

“Severus!  You got any potions with you?”

“What do you think, Harper?  Shove off, you lot, and let me through!”

Severus shoved his way through the crowd and knelt by Harry.  He pulled a small vial from a pouch inside the leather jacket he wore and poured its contents into Harry’s mouth.  The teen jerked then blinked, sitting up slowly.  Niamh helped him to halfway then nearly dropped him with Mr. Diggory shouted.

“Yes!  He got them!  There’s someone here!  Unconscious!  It’s – but – blimey…”

“You’ve got someone?” shouted Mr. Crouch in a disbelieving tone.  “Who?  Who is it?”

There was a snapping of leaves and twigs and then Mr. Diggory reappeared, a tiny, limp figured in his arms.  Hermione gasped.

It was Winky.

Mr. Crouch did not move or speak as Mr. Diggory deposited his elf on the ground at his feet.  The other Ministry wizards were all staring at Mr. Crouch, who remained transfixed on the elf at his feet for a few seconds before snapping back.

“This – cannot – be.  No –”

He moved around Mr. Diggory and headed for the spot where Winky had been found.

“No use, Mr. Crouch.  There’s no one else there.”

Mr. Crouch ignored him and they heard him snapping leaves as he walked.

“Bit embarrassing,” said Mr. Diggory.  “Barty Crouch’s house-elf…I mean to say…”

“Come off it, Amos,” said Mr. Weasley, rising from Harry’s side.  “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.”

“What?”

“Here, look.”  Mr. Diggory held up a dark wand and showed it to Mr. Weasley and the other wizards.  “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.”

Suddenly there was another pop, and Ludo Bagman Apparated right next to Mr. Weasley.  He spun on the sport, goggling at the emerald-green skull.

“The Dark Mark!  Who did it?  Did you get them?  Barty?  What’s going on?”

Mr. Crouch had returned, pale and empty handed.

“Where have you been, Barty?  Why weren’t you at the match?  Your elf was saving you a seat too – gulping gargoyles!  What happened to her?”  Bagman had just noticed Winky lying at his feet.

“I have been busy, Ludo.  And my elf has been stunned,” replied Mr. Crouch.

“Stunned?  By you lot, you mean?  But why – ?”

“Not by us,” said Mr. Diggory.  “By Harry there.”  But Bagman didn’t hear him as he finally got it.

“No!  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.”

Mr. Crouch said nothing but Mr. Diggory took his silence for assent.  He pointed his own wand and Winky and said, “Ennervate!”

Winky stirred feebly, opening her great brown eyes and blinking.  She lifted herself to a sitting position and caught sight of Mr. Diggory’s feet, lifting her eyes to stare into his face before turning skyward.  She saw the floating skull and broke into terrified sobs.

“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 back and forth on the ground, breath coming in sharp bursts.

“As you see, elf, the Dark Mark was conjured here a short while sago.  And you were discovered moments later, right beneath it!  An explanation, if you please!”

“I – I – I is not doing it, sir!  I is not knowing how, sir!”

“You were found with a wand in your hand!” barked Mr. Diggory, brandishing it in front of her.  Niamh and Ron were helping Harry to his feet when Niamh suddenly cried out.

“That’s my wand!”

All eyes turned to her and she stiffened.  Harry lifted his head, his body automatically entering fight or flight mode at the stony looks on their faces.  His arm tightened around Niamh’s shoulders while his other patted the shaking Ron’s shoulder reassuringly.

“Excuse me?” said Mr. Diggory, eying her coldly.

“I said, that’s my wand.  I dropped it.”

“You dropped it?  Is this a confession?  You threw it aside after you conjured the Mark?”

“She didn’t!” cried Harry.

“And how do you know that…Slytherin?”  This was from a grizzled old wizard, who had spotted the Slytherin crest Niamh had sewn on Harry’s dark green sweater.  Several wizards around them narrowed their eyes at him.

“Because – she was with me.”

“And we’re supposed to believe you?” spat the grizzled wizard.

Ron suddenly snapped, “Well, if you don’t believe a Slytherin, will you believe a Gryffindor?  Niamh was with us the whole time.”

The grizzled wizard grumbled something and Niamh scowled at him and Mr. Diggory.

“I didn’t drop it there, anyway,” she said.  “It was just after we’d entered the wood.”

“So,” said Mr. Diggory, turning back to 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!  I is…I is…I is picking it up, sir!  I is not making the Dark Mark, sir, I is not know how!”

“It wasn’t her!  Winky’s got a squeaky little voice, and the voice we heard doing the incantation was deeper!”  Hermione looked at Harry, Ron, and Niamh, who all nodded.

“It was a human voice,” said Harry.

“Well, we’ll soon see.  There’s a simple way of discovering the last spell a wand performed, elf, did you know that?”

Winky trembled and shook her head as Mr. Diggory placed the tip of his wand against Niamh’s.

“Prior Incantato!”

A gigantic serpent-tongued skull erupted from where the two wands met but it was a mere shadow of the green skull high above them.

“Deletrius!”

The skull vanished in a wisp of smoke and Mr. Diggory turned on the quivering Winky.

“I is not doing it!  I is not, I is not, I is not knowing how!  I is a good elf, I isn’t using wands, I isn’t know how!”

“You’ve been caught red-handed, elf!  Caught with the guilty wand in your hand!”

“Amos, think about it…precious few wizards know how to do that spell…Where would she have learned it?” said Mr. Weasley.

“Perhaps Amos is suggesting that I routinely teach my servants to conjure the Dark Mark?”  Mr. Crouch glared at Mr. Diggory, who looked flabbergasted.

“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 the Mark!  Myself and a girl.”

“A girl who’s the friend of Harry Potter, no less,” muttered a wizard.

Harry groaned as all eyes fastened on his forehead and fully visible scar.

“I correct myself.  Myself and a girl who is friend with Harry Potter himself.  Surely you know his story?”

“Of course – everyone knows – ”

“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?”

“Mr. Crouch I – I never suggested you had anything to do with it!”

“If you accuse my elf, you accuse me, Diggory!  Where else would she have learned to conjure it?”

“She – she might’ve pick it up anywhere – ”

“Precisely, Amos.  She might have picked it up anywhere…Winky?  Where exactly did you the girl’s wand?”

“I – I is find it…finding it there, sir…there…in the trees, sir…”

“You see, Amos?  Whoever conjured the Mark could have Disapparated right after they’d done it, leaving the girl’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 only a few feet away from the real culprit!  Elf?  Did you see anyone?”

Winky began to tremble.

“I is seeing no one, sir…no one…”

“Amos, 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 real with her.  You may rest assured that she will be punished.”

“M-m-master…  M-m-master, p-p-please…”

Mr. Crouch ignored the elf pointedly.

“Winky has behaved tonight in a manner I would not have believed possibly.  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!  No, master!  Not clothes, not clothes!”

“What’s the significance of clothes?” asked Niamh, tilting her head back as Winky sobbed.

“When a house-elf is given clothes by their master, they’re set free.  In Dobby’s case, that’s a good thing.  In Winky’s…”  Harry trailed off, his eyes settling on the sobbing elf.  “It’s probably not going to be for the best.

“But she was frightened!” cried Hermione.  “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 stepped back from Winky, who’s sobbing had become louder.

“I have no use for a house-elf who disobeys me.  I have no use for a servant who forgets what is due to her master, and to her master’s reputation.”

There was a moment of stunned silence where Mr. Crouch and Hermione battled gazes.  But that was broken when Mr. Weasley suddenly said, “Well, I think I’ll take my lot back to the ten, if nobody’s got any objections.  Amos, that wand’s told us all it can – if Niamh could have it back, please – ”

Mr. Diggory handed Niamh her wand and she pocketed it, not relinquishing her grip on Harry.

“Come on, you four.  Severus, would you mind going to see if the boy’s are back at the tent?”

“Of course, Arthur.  Good night, ladies, gentlemen.”  With that he strode off, looking up once at the shimmering green skull.

“Hermione!”

Hermione was looking at Winky but turned away at Mr. Weasley’s bark.  As they left the clearing, she asked, “What’s going to happen to Winky?”

“I don’t know.”

“The way they were treating her!  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, shifting Harry’s arm across his shoulder as the other boy grumbled, “I can stand perfectly fine, thank you two.”

“That doesn’t mean she hasn’t got feelings, Ron!”

“Hermione,” said Mr. Weasley, “I agree with you, but now if not the time to discuss elf rights.  I want to get back to the tent as fast as we can.  Severus may get there and find the others not there.”

“We lost them in the dark,” said Harry, pulling himself away from Niamh and Ron.  He nearly fell but caught himself and scowled at them as they tried to grab him again.  “For Slytherin’s sake, I’m not dying!”

“Dad,” said Ron, moving a few paces away from the fuming Harry. “Why was everyone so uptight about that skull thing?”

Mr. Weasley started to reply but Harry got there first.

“It was Voldemort’s symbol when he was in power.  People feared it because every time it was seen over a house or village or anything, that meant his Death Eater’s had struck and everyone inside was dead.”

Mr. Weasley stared at him for a moment then said, “You’re absolutely right, Harry.  How’d you know that?”

“Book.”

“Ah.  Hold on, hold on – one person at a time, please!”

As they emerged from the wood, a crowd of frightened witches and wizards converged on them, all yelling questions at Mr. Weasley.

“Wha’ts going on in there?”

“Who conjured it?”

“Arthur – it’s not – Him?”

“Of course it’s not Him,” said Mr. Weasley in a sharp tone.  “We don’t know who it was; it look like they Disapparated.  Now excuse me, please, I want to get to bed.”

The five of them moved through the crowd and back to the campsite.  There was no sign of the masked wizards but a few tents were still smoking.

Charlie’s head was poking out of the boy’s tent.

“Dad, what’s going on?  Fred, George, and Ginny got back okay, but the others…”

“I’ve got them here.”

“Well, Professor Snape came charging down the hill looking ready to murder somebody.  He also looked hurt but wouldn’t let me do anything to it before he took off again.  Said he was going to have a chat with someone.”

“Did he say who?”

“No, he didn’t.  Sorry, Dad.”

“It’s alright.  Is everyone inside?”

“Yep.”

They entered the tent and saw everyone except for Severus there.  Bill was holding a bedsheet to his arm, which was bleeding, while Percy was sporting a bloody nose but none of the others were hurt – shaken but unhurt.  Aside from the fact that Charlie had a rip in his shirt.

“Did you get them, Dad?” asked Bill.  “The person who conjured the Mark?”

“No.  We found Barty Crouch’s elf holding Niamh’s wand, but we’re none the wiser about who actually conjured the Mark.

“What?” cried Bill, Charlie, and Percy.

“Niamh’s wand?”

“Mr. Crouch’s elf?” gasped Percy.

Mr. Weasley, Harry, Ron, Niamh, and Hermione told the entire story and at the end Percy swelled indignantly.

“Well, Mr. Crouch is quite right to get rid of an elf like that!  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 brought 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!” snapped Hermione at Percy.

“Hermione, a wizard in Mr. Crouch’s position can’t afford a house-elf who’s going to run amok with a wand!”

“She didn’t run amok!  She just picked it up off the ground!”

“Can someone explain what that skull was?” asked Ginny.  “Why’s it such a big deal?”

“Like I told Harry and Ron, its You-Know-Who’s symbol.  I read about it in The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts.  And Harry seems to know a good deal about it.”  Hermione eyed Harry, who was staring stonily ahead.

“And it hasn’t been seen for thirteen years,” said Mr. Weasley.  “Of course people panicked.  It was almost like seeing You-Know-Who back again.”

“It’s still just a shape in the sky,” said Ginny.

“Gin, Voldemort (everyone at the table winced beside Niamh) – sorry – You-Know-Who and his followers sent the Mark into the air wherever they killed.”  Harry shook his head and said, “From all I’ve read about it in what I could actually find on the time, it was horrible.  People didn’t know who to trust anymore.  They kept seeing Death Eaters everywhere.  And if they were to come home with the Dark Mark over their house?  That must’ve been the worst…”  Mr. Weasley nodded slowly as Harry spoke.

“Death Eaters?”

“That’s what You-Know-Who’s supporters called themselves,” explained Bill.  “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.”  Mr. Weasley added hopelessly, “Though it probably was.”

“I bet it was!  We met Draco Malfoy in the woods and he good as told us his dad was one of those nutters in masks!  And we all know the Malfoy’s were right in with You-Know-Who.”

“Why did the Death Eaters run when they saw the Mark?” asked Ginny.

Mr. Weasley shrugged.

“Well,” said Bill, “if they were really Death Eaters, they worked very hard to stay out of Azkaban after You-Know-Who fell.  They told all sorts of lies about him forcing them to kill and torture people.  They’d probably be even more frightened than us to see him come back.  He probably wouldn’t be very happy with them.”

“So…whoever conjured the Dark Mark was showing support for the Death Eaters?  Or were they doing it to scare them away?”

Mr. Weasley sighed.  “Your guess is as good as mine, Hermione.  But, I’ll tell you this – only Death Eaters know 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…”

Niamh looked sharply at Harry at that but he kept his eyes away from hers.

“Now, 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.  Harry, Niamh…let’s just hope Severus gets back soon.”

Harry climbed back into his bunk, wide-awake and worried.  Last night he had dreamed about Voldemort and now his Mark had appeared in the air again.  Now his father had disappeared to Merlin knows where and Niamh suddenly – if Harry judged the look she’d given him right – thought that his father had conjured the Mark.

And where the hell was Jardin?