"There is someone in
my head but it's not
me."
•
WE SET UP the tent after a lot of drama. Mr Weasley believed that we can't use oven as muggles used fire. Who was going to tell him that was like ages ago.
Halfway up the field stood an extravagant confection of striped silk like a miniature palace, with several live peacocks tethered at the entrance. Draco's. Have to stop by soon, I made a mental note. A little farther on we passed a tent that had three floors and several turrets; and a short way beyond that was a tent that had a front garden attached, complete with birdbath, sundial, and fountain. Probably Theo's. Notts were always extravagant.
The girls tent was a bit smaller than the boys tent but unlike the boys tent that smelled of cats, the girls tent smelled of pumpkin spice.
Me, Harry, Ron, and Hermione set off across the campsite with the kettle and saucepans. Now, with the sun newly risen and the mist lifting, we could see the city of tents that stretched in every direction. We made our way slowly through the rows, staring eagerly around. It was only just dawning on me how many witches and wizards there must be in the world; I had never really thought much about those in other countries.
Our fellow campers were starting to wake up. First to stir were the families with small children; I had never seen witches and wizards this young before. A tiny boy no older than two was crouched outside a large pyramid-shaped tent, holding a wand and poking happily at a slug in the grass, which was swelling slowly to the size of a salami. As we drew level with him, his mother came hurrying out of the tent.
"I didn't know they were allowed wands," Ron said furiously. "Mum never gave us a wand until we were eleven!"
A short way farther on, we saw two little witches, barely older than the boy before, who were riding toy broomsticks that rose only high enough for the girls' toes to skim the dewy grass. A Ministry wizard had already spotted them; as he hurried past us he muttered distractedly, "In broad daylight! Parents having a lie-in, I suppose -"
Here and there adult wizards and witches were emerging from their tents and starting to cook breakfast. Some, with furtive looks around them, conjured fires with their wands; others were striking matches with dubious looks on their faces, as though sure this couldn't work. Three African wizards sat in serious conversation, all of them wearing long white robes and roasting what looked like a rabbit on a bright purple fire, while a group of middle-aged American witches sat gossiping happily beneath a spangled banner stretched between their tents that read: THE SALEM WITCHES' INSTITUTE. I caught snatches of conversation in strange languages from the inside of tents we passed, and though I couldn't understand a word, the tone of every single voice was excited.
Suddenly, everything was green.
We stopped. Seamus' tent screamed Ireland. It was so green that eyes hurt.
Bulgaria supporters' tents had the grumpy face of Viktor Krum, moving and scowling.
Ron fangirled. Take a moment to imagine that, thank you.
"Krum," said Ron quietly.
"What?" said Hermione.
"Krum!" said Ron. "Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker!"
"He looks really grumpy," said Hermione, looking around at the many Krums blinking and scowling at us.
"And extremely handsome," muttered. "Tall, dark, brooding-"
"'Really grumpy'?" Ron raised his eyes to the heavens, ignoring what I was saying. "Who cares what he looks like? He's unbelievable. He's really young too. Only just eighteen or something. He's a genius, you wait until tonight, you'll see."
There was already a small queue for the tap in the corner of the field. We joined it, right behind a pair of men who were having a heated argument. One of them was a very old wizard who was wearing a long flowery nightgown. The other was clearly a Ministry wizard; he was holding out a pair of pinstriped trousers and almost crying with exasperation. Because muggle women wore nightgowns. But the old wizard refused to wear the trousers.
Hermione was overcome with such a strong fit of the giggles at this point that she had to duck out of the queue and only returned when Archie, the Ministry wizard had collected his water and moved away.
Walking more slowly now, because of the weight of the water, we made our way back through the campsite. Occasionally, I contemplated using my magic. Here and there, we saw more familiar faces: other Hogwarts students with their families.
Oliver Wood, the old captain of Harry's House Quidditch team, who had just left Hogwarts, dragged Harry over to his parents' tent to introduce him, and told us excitedly that he had just been signed to the Puddlemere United reserve team. Next we were hailed by Ernie Macmillan, a Hufflepuff fourth year, and a little farther on we saw Cho Chang, who played Seeker on the Ravenclaw team. She waved and smiled at Harry, who slopped quite a lot of water down his front as he waved back. I smirked at him and he blushed looking down. He slopped some more water trying to stop me and Ron from smirking than anything. Then Harry hurriedly pointed out a large group of teenagers whom he had never seen before.
"You've been ages," said George when we finally got back to the Weasleys' tents.
"Met a few people," said Ron, setting the water down. "You not got that fire started yet?"
"Dad's having fun with the matches," said Fred.
Mr Weasley was having no success at all in lighting the fire, but it wasn't for lack of trying. Splintered matches littered the ground around him, but he looked as though he was having the time of his life.
"Oops!" he said as he managed to light a match and promptly dropped it in surprise.
"Come here, Mr Weasley," said Hermione kindly, taking the box from him, and showing him how to do it properly.
At last they got the fire lit, though it was at least another hour before it was hot enough to cook anything. There was plenty to watch while we waited, however. Our tent seemed to be pitched right alongside a kind of thoroughfare to the field, and Ministry members kept hurrying up and down it, greeting Mr. Weasley cordially as they passed. Mr Weasley kept up a running commentary, mainly for our benefit; his own children knew too much about the Ministry to be greatly interested.
"That was Cuthbert Mockridge, Head of the Goblin Liaison Office. . . Here comes Gilbert Wimple; he's with the Committee on Experimental Charms; he's had those horns for a while now. . . Hello, Arnie . . . Arnold Peasegood, he's an Obliviator - member of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, you know. . . and that's Bode and Croaker . . . they're Unspeakables. . . "
"They're what?" Harry asked.
"From the Department of Mysteries, top secret, no idea what they get up to," I said promptly. Mr Weasley looked astonished that I knew.
"I like collecting information, Mr Weasley," I said sheepishly.
At last, the fire was ready, and we had just started cooking eggs and sausages when Bill, Charlie, and Percy came strolling out of the woods toward us.
"Just Apparated, dad," said Percy loudly. "Ah, excellent, lunch!" I rolled my eyes at him and Charlie sniggered.
We were halfway through our plates of eggs and sausages when Mr Weasley jumped to his feet, waving and grinning at a man who was striding towards us.
"Aha!" he said. "The man of the moment! Ludo!"
Ludo Bagman was easily the most noticeable person I had seen so far, even including old Archie in his flowered nightdress. He was wearing long Quidditch robes in thick horizontal stripes of bright yellow and black-very Hufflepuff. An enormous picture of a wasp was splashed across his chest. He had the look of a powerfully built man gone slightly to seed; the robes were stretched tightly across a large belly he surely had not had in the days when he had played Quidditch for England. His nose was squashed (probably broken by a stray Bludger, I thought), but his round blue eyes, short blond hair, and rosy complexion made him look like a very overgrown schoolboy.
"Ahoy there!" Bagman called happily. Who the fuck says ahoy? He was walking as if he had springs attached to the balls of his feet and was plainly in a state of wild excitement. "Arthur, old man," he puffed as he reached the campfire, "what a day, eh? What a day! Could we have asked for more perfect weather? A cloudless night coming. . . and hardly a hiccough in the arrangements. . . Not much for me to do!"
Behind him, a group of haggard-looking Ministry wizards rushed past, pointing at the distant evidence of some sort of a magical fire that was sending violet sparks twenty feet into the air.
Percy hurried forward with his hand outstretched. Apparently his disapproval of the way Ludo Bagman ran his department did not prevent him from wanting to make a good impression. Kiss-ass.
"Ah - yes," said Mr Weasley, grinning, "this is my son Percy. He's just started at the Ministry - and this is Fred - no, George, sorry - that's Fred - Bill, Charlie, Ron - my daughter, Ginny - and Ron's friends, Hermione Granger, Skylar Firegold and Harry Potter."
Bagman did the smallest of double takes when he heard Harry's name, and his eyes performed the familiar flick upward to the scar on Harry's forehead. Then he cast a strange disdainful look towards me which I understand. Child of two notorious Death Eaters and all.
Then they were betting.
"Oh . . . go on then," said Mr Weasley. "Let's see . . . a Galleon on Ireland to win?"
"A Galleon?" Ludo Bagman looked slightly disappointed, but recovered himself. "Very well, very well. . . any other takers?"
I nudged Fred in the ribs and he winced, looking down at me. He seemed to have read my expression and widened his eyes. George was mouthing, "No no no no." I glared at them deeply until Fred sighed.
"They're a bit young to be gambling," said Mr Weasley. "Molly wouldn't like -"
"Well - er - We'll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts," said Fred as he and George quickly pooled all their money, "that Ireland wins - but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch. Oh and we'll throw in a fake wand."
"You don't want to go showing Mr Bagman rubbish like that -" Percy hissed, but Bagman didn't seem to think the wand was rubbish at all; on the contrary, his boyish face shone with excitement as he took it from Fred, and when the wand gave a loud squawk and turned into a rubber chicken, Bagman roared with laughter.
"Excellent! I haven't seen one that convincing in years! I'd pay five Galleons for that!"
Percy froze in an attitude of stunned disapproval.
"Boys," said Mr Weasley under his breath, "I don't want you betting. . . That's all your savings. . . Your mother -"
"And we won't accept leprechaun gold, Mr Bagman," I added immediately. Mr Weasley looked at me with wide eyes. "We know what were doing," I told him.
Mr Weasley looked on helplessly as Ludo Bagman whipped out a notebook and quill and began jotting down the our names names.
"Cheers," said George, taking the slip of parchment Bagman handed him and tucking it away carefully. Bagman turned most cheerfully back to Mr Weasley. "Couldn't do me a brew, I suppose? I'm keeping an eye out for Barty Crouch. My Bulgarian opposite number is making difficulties, and I can't understand a word he's saying. Barty'll be able to sort it out. He speaks about a hundred and fifty languages."
"Mr Crouch?" said Percy, suddenly abandoning his look of poker-stiff disapproval and positively writhing with excitement. "He speaks over two hundred! Mermish and Gobbledegook and Troll . . ."
"Anyone can speak Troll," said Fred dismissively. "All you have to do is point and grunt."
Percy threw Fred an extremely nasty look and stoked the fire vigorously to bring the kettle back to the boil.
I slipped away from the conversation. Fred and George came with me. We huddled in the back of the tent away from the rest.
"We bet all our money," George said as we were out of earshot. "If we lose -"
"I'll give you fifty galleons if we lose, okay? Fair?" I asked.
"How are you so sure of that odds?" Fred raised a brow.
"I got a feeling," I grinned, leaning back on a makeshift armchair. "I'm going to rest up for tonight."
Tonight was gonna be a long night, after all.
As the evening drew on, more and more commotion started. People started purchasing their World Cup merchandise. I woke up at four, realizing I was a bit late, and got dressed up in like, ten minutes, outfit, makeup and all. Face painted for the Irish, because they are going to win. Ron disapproved. I asked him if he wanted Krum's face painted on his butt. He said no and smacked my head.
Salesmen were Apparating every few feet, carrying trays and pushing carts full of extraordinary merchandise. There were luminous rosettes - green for Ireland, red for Bulgaria - which were squealing the names of the players, pointed green hats bedecked with dancing shamrocks, Bulgarian scarves adorned with lions that really roared, flags from both countries that played their national anthems as they were waved; there were tiny models of Firebolts that really flew, and collectible figures of famous players, which strolled across the palm of your hand, preening themselves.
"Been saving my pocket money all summer for this," Ron told us as we strolled through the salesmen, buying souvenirs. Though Ron purchased a dancing shamrock hat and a large green rosette, he also bought a small figure of Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker. The miniature Krum walked backward and forward over Ron's hand, scowling up at the green rosette above him.
"I'd like a little Krum too," I muttered, looking at the small handsome figurine. "Pretty boy." Ron rolled his eyes.
"Wow, look at these!" said Harry, hurrying over to a cart piled high with what looked like brass binoculars, except that they were covered with all sorts of weird knobs and dials.
"Omnioculars," said the saleswizard eagerly. "You can replay action . . . slow everything down . . . and they flash up a play-by-play breakdown if you need it. Bargain - ten Galleons each."
"Wish I hadn't bought this now," said Ron, gesturing at his dancing shamrock hat and gazing longingly at the Omnioculars.
"Four pairs," said Harry firmly to the wizard.
"I didn't want one!" I said. Harry raised a brow at me. "Alright you get three. I'll get three."
"Why three more?"
"For me, Fred and George!"
By four fifty, we clutched our purchases and walked to the top box. It was literally so high up, I wanted to kill myself before even half way through. When we reached the top box, I collapsed on a Seat panting like hell. Merlin, I might have asthma, I thought as I wheezed.
"Seats a hundred thousand," said Mr Weasley, spotting the awestruck look on Harry's face. "Ministry task force of five hundred have been working on it all year. Muggle Repelling Charms on every inch of it. Every time Muggles have got anywhere near here all year, they've suddenly remembered urgent appointments and had to dash away again . . . bless them," he added fondly. I was still wheezing.
"Dobby?" Harry suddenly asked and I turned around to see Winky. I knew Barty Crouch Jr was here under the invisibility cloak. I glared in the direction of the empty seat which I knew was occupied by him. I half wished to rip off the cloak or kick that spot.
After Harry's conversation with Winky was over, Ron pulled out his Omnioculars and started testing them, staring down into the crowd on the other side of the stadium.
"Wild!" he said, twiddling the replay knob on the side. "I can make that old bloke down there pick his nose again . . . and again . . . and again . . ."
"Look!" George yanked me towards him. I was still a little red in the face from all the walking. "Look, I'm making that guy fall over and over!"
Hermione, meanwhile, was skimming eagerly through her velvetcovered, tasseled program. "'A display from the team mascots will precede the match,'" she read aloud.
"Oh that's always worth watching," said Mr Weasley. "National teams bring creatures from their native land, you know, to put on a bit of a show."
Mr Weasley kept shaking hands with people who were obviously very important wizards. Percy jumped to his feet so often that he looked as if he were trying to sit on a porcupine. When Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself, arrived, Percy bowed so low that his glasses fell off and shattered. Highly embarrassed, he repaired them with his wand and thereafter remained in his seat, throwing jealous looks at Harry, whom Cornelius Fudge had greeted like an old friend. They had met before, and Fudge shook Harry's hand in a fatherly fashion, asked how he was, and introduced him to the wizards on either side of him. I cursed internally because this cunt was going to turn on us by the end of the year.
Cornelius had a hard time making the Bulgarian minister understand English and tried introducing us.
He had no hard time catching up with who Harry was and clapped excitedly when we hello'd him.
And then walked in Lucius, Narcissa and Draco.
Draco, who was wearing a scowl, replaced it with an overexcited grin and waved at me. Lucius immediately slapped his hand down. I laughed and waved at both Lucius and Draco.
Lucius ignored me and after meeting Mr Oblansk, the Bulgarian Minister, had a cold stare down with Arthur.
"Good lord, Arthur! What did you have to sell to manage tickets of the top box? Surely, your house couldn't get you this much fortune?" Lucius nastily commented.
I shot a really angry look at Lucius, because I'm not scared of him. I'm quite fond of him actually, in a strange, cynical way. He looked at me with his cold grey eyes. I rolled my eyes and he blinked. He probably never had anyone roll eyes at him before.
"Lucius has made a generous contribution to St Mungo's hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur. He's here as my guest," Fudge boasted.
"As if we give two fucks," I whispered. Ron, who heard me, snickered.
Mr Malfoy looked at Hermione with a sneer. She went slightly pink as we all knew Malfoys have a belief, like every other pure blood families, that muggle born witches and wizards are second class. Otherwise known as mudbloods.
"Mione, you came first this time right?" I purposely asked her, really loudly. Lucius' gaze fell on me as I continued to look at her.
"Our Hermione always comes first," Ron, who seemed to have caught up with my plan, said.
"You came second, right Skylar?" Harry asked.
"Yes, Draco's third. Right, Draco?" I asked.
Draco, who has considerably lessened his contempt towards Gryffindors, and muggleborns, nodded sheepishly.
"Let's go Draco," Lucius grabbed his family and went to their respective seats.
Then Ludo Bagman appeared. And the show started.
~°^°~
"Kids! Get out, fast!" Arthur roared and I jumped out of the bed that very second, knowing what is happening.
"No time Harry!" Arthur yelled.
By the light of the few fires that were still burning, I could see people running away into the woods, fleeing something that was moving across the field toward them, something that was emitting odd flashes of light and noises like gunfire. Loud jeering, roars of laughter, and drunken yells were drifting toward us; then came a burst of strong green light, which illuminated the scene. I spasmed wildly, identifying the curse. I grabbed Harry with both my hands. A crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wands pointing straight upward, was marching slowly across the field. I squinted at them. . . They didn't seem to have faces. . . Then I realized that their heads were hooded and their faces masked. Death Eaters.
High above them, floating along in midair, four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes. It was as though the masked wizards on the ground were puppeteers, and the people above them were marionettes operated by invisible strings that rose from the wands into the air. Two of the figures were very small.
"We're going to help the ministry, go to the woods and stick together!"
"C'mon," said Fred, grabbing Ginny's hand and starting to pull her toward the wood. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and George followed. George had me in his clutches and I had Harry in mine. We all looked back as we reached the trees. The crowd beneath the muggle family was larger than ever; we could see the Ministry wizards trying to get through it to the hooded wizards in the center, but they were having great difficulty. It looked as though they were scared to perform any spell that might make the family fall.
The colored lanterns that had lit the path to the stadium had been extinguished. Dark figures were blundering through the trees; children were crying; anxious shouts and panicked voices were reverberating around them in the cold night air. I felt myself being pushed hither and thither by people whose faces I could not see. Then I heard Ron yell with pain.
"This is stupid! Lumos!" Mione angrily whispered.
She illuminated her wand and directed its narrow beam across the path. Ron was lying sprawled on the ground. "Tripped over a tree root," he said angrily, getting to his feet again.
"-Hard not to with a foot that size!" Draco drawled. He leaned against a tree looking utterly relaxed. His arms folded, he seemed to have been watching the scene at the campsite through a gap in the trees.
Ron fumed, "Fuck off!"
"Language Weasley. Hadn't you better hurry along now? You won't want her spotted," he said nodding towards Hermione.
I angrily huffed, stomping towards him, "Draco what the fuck? Are they Death Eaters?" His eyes flickered fear for a while but then calmed down.
"They scare us all so easily, don't they?" he said pointing to the group of people who screamed. "Better run off before they come."
"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 midair? Because if you do, hang around. . . they're moving this way, and it would give us all a laugh."
"Hermione's a witch," Harry snarled.
I stared at him for a while before looking at Ron, Harry, George and Hermione.
"They're after muggleborns too," I added "Go." I said.
"But-" Harry started.
"I said, Go!" I repeated. They reluctantly followed what I said and disappeared behind the trees. There came a bang from the other side of the trees that was louder than anything we had heard. Several people nearby screamed. Draco chuckled softly.
"How much do you know?" I asked. Draco looked down at me with a smug look.
"More than I should."
"Yeah, and I know more than you do. I know Lucius is right there. I know he's a Death Eater," I said shoving him to the tree. I grabbed his collar and brought my wand upto his face. Light lit up the area. "Don't look so smug about being associated in racist protests, Malfoy. I suggest you sort out your priorities. You won't have time."
"What ever you mean?" He was way too calm for my liking. And way too close. And we were in way too dark.
"Voldemort," I hissed. He jolted slightly. "The Death Eaters are coming back, rounding up because he's coming back, isn't it?"
He was quiet.
"I know you know, Draco. And if you, ever, make a wrong decision in chosing which side you want to be in if he comes back, I swear to Morgana, you won't see the end of it -"
"I'd choose the winning side, Skylar," he said. He grabbed my hands and pulled them away from his collar. Then he straightened his collar out. It looked like he was having a midnight stroll. It was like there wasn't a massacre going on outside.
And then a vast green glittering something erupted in the patch of darkness. For a split second, I thought it was another leprechaun formation. Then I realized that it was a colossal skull, comprised of what looked like emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. As I watched, it rose higher and higher, blazing in a haze of greenish smoke, etched against the black sky like a new constellation.
The Dark Mark glowed in the dark. Draco looked at it, fearfully, and then at me.
"It's pretty," I said. There was a strange feeling about the Mark. I was drawn towards it. Draco punched me. I blinked and looked away from the Mark.
"Sort out your priorities, Draco," I said pushing myself away from him and pointed my index at him. He looked at me with some kind of conflict but I didn't stay. I ran into the trees.
"STUPEFY!" twenty voices yelled at the same time. I ran in the direction of the noise. It was dark and I didn't want to use my wand, lest I get interrogated or something.
By the time I reached, Winky was rennervated.
"Hey - that's mine!" Harry said. Everyone in the clearing looked at him with so much shock that they didn't see me wheezing and running into the crowd.
"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, very 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 toward the trees beneath the skull. "I missed it right after we got into the wood."
"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?"
"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. She looked very nervous, speaking up in front of all these Ministry wizards, yet determined all the same. "Winky's got a squeaky little voice, and the voice we heard doing the incantation was much deeper!" She looked around 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. "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. I felt horrible.
"Prior Incantato!" roared Mr. Diggory. I heard Hermione gasp, horrified, as a gigantic serpenttongued 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 as though it were made of thick gray smoke: the ghost of a spell. Magic was fascinating. "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!"
"No she isn't!" I said suddenly. And I felt the nervousness that Hermione was feeling. All the elders turned towards me. "I mean - a wizard could have cast the spell and dropped it. Winky could have just picked it up after wards. Why would she cast the spell anyway?"
"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 deeply 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?"
"Of course - everyone knows -" muttered Mr. Diggory, looking highly discomforted.
"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 shouted, his eyes bulging again.
"Mr Crouch, I - I never suggested you had anything to do with it!" Amos Diggory muttered again, now reddening behind his scrubby brown beard.
"If you accuse my elf, you accuse me, Diggory!" shouted Mr Crouch. "Where else would she have learned 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?"
I started dissociating. It was all too much, all too pointless for me. I bobbed in the balls of my feet until I heard Hermione shout -
"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!" I nodded deeply agreeing with Hermione.
Mr. Crouch took a step backward, freeing himself from contact with the elf, whom he was surveying as though she were something filthy and rotten that was contaminating his over-shined shoes. "I have no use for a house-elf who disobeys me," he said coldly, looking over at Hermione. "I have no use for a servant who forgets what is due to her master, and to her master's reputation."
"What is wrong with you!" I shouted. "Would you have stayed stuck in a tent if it meant you dying or something? Winky had to get away - like any normal person -"
"She's not a person!"
"Pardon?"
Winky was crying so hard that her sobs echoed around the clearing. 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 has 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 four," Mr. Weasley said quietly. But Hermione didn't seem to want to move; her eyes were still upon the sobbing elf. I stayed with her.
"Hermione! Skylar!" Mr Weasley said, more urgently. I threw one last glare at Crouch.
Then we turned and followed Harry and Ron out of the clearing and off through the trees.
~°^°~
AUTHOR'S NOTES.
610 READS. thank you a lot.
90 more and I'll be achieving what I want.
How many of you want Draco and Skylar to be together in this part? In goblet of fire??
Comment your suggestions and thoughts on this story.
THIS STORY IS GOING TO GO THOUGH LARGE AMOUNTS OF EDITING.