𝐑𝐄𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒-ℍ𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕪 ℙ𝕠𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕣❥

𝐆𝐎𝐅 𝟔

"Don't tell your mother you've been gambling," Mr. Weasley implored Fred and George as they all made their way slowly down the purple-carpeted stairs.

"Yeah, don't tell your mother," Ethan added, happy that Mr Weasley couldn't tell him off for it.

"Don't worry, Dad," said Fred gleefully, "we've got big plans for this money. We don't want it confiscated."

Mr. Weasley 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.

They were soon caught up in the crowds now flooding out of the stadium and back to their campsites.

Raucous singing was borne toward them on the night air as they retraced their steps along the lantern-lit path, and leprechauns kept shooting over their heads, cackling and waving their lanterns.

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

They were soon arguing enjoyably about the match; Mr. Weasley 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 Mr. Weasley called a halt to the verbal replays and insisted that everyone go to bed.

Hermione, Emily and Ginnt went into the next tent, and  they  changed into pajamas and clambered into their beds, Ginny sleeping on her own and Hermione and Emily in the double.

From the other side of the campsite they could still hear much singing and the odd echoing bang.

Ginny had fallen asleep leaving the two olders girls to chat freely.

Emily lay staring up at the canvas ceiling of the tent, watching the glow of an occasional leprechaun lantern flying overhead, and picturing again some of Krum's more spectacular moves.

She was itching to get back on her own Firebolt and try out the Wronski Feint. . . . Somehow Oliver Wood had never managed to convey with all his wriggling diagrams what that move was supposed to look like.. . .

Emily saw herself in robes that had her name on the back, and imagined the sensation of hearing a hundred-thousand-strong crowd roar, as Ludo Bagman's voice echoed throughout the stadium, "I give you. . . Lupin-Black!"

Emily never knew whether or not she had actually dropped off to sleep - her fantasies of flying like Krum might well have slipped into actual dreams - all he knew was that, quite suddenly, loud screams were coming from ours tide there tents.

"Get up! Hermione — wake up, damn it!" Emily's voice cracked with urgency as she shook her friend's shoulder.

Hermione blinked groggily, the remnants of sleep clinging stubbornly to her mind. "Wha—what's the matter...?"

Then she heard it.

The music — gone.
The laughter — gone.
Only screams remained. The hollow thundering of feet pounding the earth. Terrified shouts cutting through the night like knives.

Hermione shot upright, heart hammering. Something was very, very wrong.

She scrambled for her clothes, but Emily — already yanking open Ginny's curtains — snapped, "No time, 'Mione! Forget the outfit — just grab your jacket and GO!"

The panic in Emily's voice left no room for argument.

Hermione shoved her arms through her sleeves as she stumbled toward the tent flap. Ginny stumbled after her, eyes wide with confusion and fear.