The Weasley of Slytherin: The Goblet of Fire

Chapter 6: The Dark Mark

"Don't tell your mother you've been gambling," Mr. Weasley implored Fred and George as we all made our way slowly 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."

Dad 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.

We were soon caught up in the crowds now flooding out of the stadium and back to our campsites. Raucous singing was borne toward us on the night air as we retraced our steps along the lantern-lit path, and leprechauns kept shooting over our heads, cackling and waving our lanterns.

When we finally reached the tents, nobody felt like sleeping at all, and given the level of noise around them, Dad agreed that we could all have one last cup of cocoa together before turning in.

"There's no one like Krum. He's like a bird the way he rides the wind. He's more than an athlete, he's an artist." Ron said, as though he were talking about a crush, as Fred, George, and I ran around the tent, flags on our back as though they were wings, shouting

"KRUM!"

"I think someone has a crush." Fred said poking fun at Ron, who was staring dreamily at the ceiling of the tent.

"Viktor I love you!" Sang Fred, from one side of Ron.

"Viktor I do!" George joined in on Ron's other side.

"Viktor it's true!" I added in, directly behind Ron.

"When we're apart my heart beats only for you!" The three of us sang together.

We were soon arguing enjoyably about the match; Dad got drawn into a disagreement about cobbing with Charlie, and it was only when Ginny fell asleep right at the tiny table and spilled hot chocolate all over the floor that Dad called a halt to the verbal replays and insisted that everyone go to bed.

Hermione and Ginny went into the next tent, while the rest of the us changed into pajamas and clambered into our bunks. From the other side of the campsite we could still hear much singing and the odd echoing bang.

"Oh I am glad I'm not on duty," muttered Dad sleepily. "I wouldn't fancy having to go and tell the Irish they've got to stop celebrating."

I was laying on the only single bed in the tent, staring up at the canvas ceiling of the tent, watching the glow of an occasional leprechaun lantern flying overhead, and picturing again how the Irish chasers worked almost as one, feeling sad, as last Flint had promised I wouldn't be playing quidditch for Slytherin again.

I fell into a rough sleep, visions of graveyards, and cauldrons drifting into my mind, and then before I knew it, quite suddenly, Dad was shouting.

"Get up! Ron — (Y/n) — Harry — come on now, get up, this is urgent!"

I jumped up quickly getting out of my bed, pulling on my nearby dressing gown.

" 'S' matter?" Harry said, groggily.

I could tell that something was wrong. The noises in the campsite had changed. The singing had stopped. I could hear screams, and the sound of people running, I hurrying quickly into the nearby kitchen, grabbing a kitchen knife and slipping it into my pocket.

"No time, Harry — just grab a jacket and get outside — quickly!" I heard Dad shout, as Harry went to get changed.

I followed Harry as he hurried out of the tent, Ron at my heels. 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.