The Sun, Moon & Stars

67. The Dark Mark

Something was wrong. What was — she didn't know. All she knew was that in a matter of seconds the blaring music and cheers of celebration from outside the tents had stopped, and in its placed was the sound of urgent footsteps and screams that weren't joyous, but rather fearful.

Mr Weasley was in a frenzy, pulling his jeans over his pyjama pants and fumbling around the tent for his wand; yelling at Fred and George to quit their antics, waking up Hermione and Ginny who were half-asleep despite the commotion, and rolling out orders.

"Everybody get up — now!" His voice was urgent, fearful.

"What's wrong?" Harry had the presence of mind to ask as Mr Weasley all but dragged him off the sofa, but was not met with a response.

Brows furrowed, Ophelia dashed to her room to collect her belongings — what was going on?

"No! Not enough time to explain. We don't have time, nothing but your wands. Leave them if you can't find them — just get out of the tent — let's just go!"

Nobody quite understood what was going on, but heeded Mr Weasley's request and took nothing but what they were already holding — which was lucky, since most of them only had their wands.

"Everybody...everybody...need to make sure..." He trailed off, collecting himself, counting as the children passed him to leave the tent, "Fred, George, Ron, Harry, Ophelia, Hermione, Percy..."

He looked up in alarm, "Where's Ginny?"

"I'm here!" Ginny squeaked, having simply been lagging behind as the last to leave the tent.

He let out a breath of relief, but it was short-lived. The glow from fires illuminated the camping grounds, and Ophelia could make out thousands of tents that were burnt and torn to shreds. People were fleeing in all directions, fires were spreading, people were screaming and something that sounded an awful lot like gunshots were going off — what was going on?

Her heart rate quickened as she looked around rapidly, grasping the nearest hand to be found tightly; which happened to be Harry's, awaiting instructions from Mr Weasley even though it seemed preposterous to wait in a dire situation like this.

There was loud jeering, roars of cruel laughter and drunken screams — fire being the only light source — it was horrible.

A group of tightly packed wizards marched down the centre farther off. Faceless, cloaked, wands raised— death eaters. She squeezed Harry's hand, surely cutting off blood circulation as she muttered, "Voldemort's followers."

Harry's eyes widened.

"Alright you lot!" Came Mr Weasley's voice finally, ushering Hermione and Ginny in their nightdresses out onto the grass, "I'm going to help the Ministry." He explained, rolling up his sleeves, wand raised.

"You lot need to get into the forest safely — and stick together — I mean it! You understand?"

"You're leaving?" Ginny cried, tears rolling down her face, understandably.

"I'll be fine!" Mr Weasley yelled, loud enough so they could hear it over the screams, "I'll come and fetch you as soon as this is sorted — stick together — it'll be over in a jiffy." And with that, he tore after Percy and other Ministry officials to help.

"Come on, we have to go." George wasted no time in grasping Ginny's hand and tugging her towards the forest.

The others followed quickly, sprinting really, and Ophelia's eyes darted between all the action. Fires, people dead (but hopefully unconscious) on the ground and the masked death eaters torturing those who couldn't get away quick enough.