"𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙪𝙡 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙮"
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IN WHICH ~ Jupiter Cassiopeia Lestrange thought she could escape her family's dark legacy at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but in her second year, Tom Riddle's diar...
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"Cruelty is how weak people pretend to be powerful."
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"Krum, Krum, Krum, Krum!"
Harry and Ron chanted Viktor Krum's name over and over inside the tent, voices brimming with admiration as Fred and George whistled a lively Irish tune, the flag draped across their shoulders.
"There's no one like Krum," Ron declared, climbing onto the dining table with an intense look, as if he were about to lead a charge himself. "He's like a bird, the way he rides the wind."
"Dumb Krum!" Fred and George hooted, flapping their arms as they circled around Ron, imitating birds.
"More than an athlete," Ron smirked, his eyes practically glowing with reverence. "He's an artist."
"I think you're in love, Ron," Ginny teased, giving his shoulder a playful pat.
"Shut up," Ron scoffed, though a faint blush crept into his cheeks. But Fred and George weren't about to let him off so easily. They seized him by the arms and broke into song.
"Viktor, I love you. Viktor, I do! When we're apart, my heart beats only for you!" they chanted, loud enough to rival the nearby tents. Everyone joined in, their voices blending in raucous harmony.
Fred grinned, pausing to listen as the distant shouts of celebration grew louder. "Sounds like the Irish have got their pride on," he chuckled.
Jupiter frowned, her instincts prickling as she listened to the noises shift. It was subtle, but the cheers had begun to twist into something sharper, more frantic. She stood up slowly, a sense of unease settling in.
"That doesn't sound like celebrating," she muttered, glancing warily toward the entrance of the tent.
"It's not the Irish!" Mr. Weasley's voice broke through, urgent. His face had gone pale, his eyes wide as he grabbed Ginny's hand. "We've got to get out of here. Now."
In an instant, the atmosphere inside the tent shattered. They scrambled outside and were met with chaos. A thick, acrid scent of smoke filled the air, and an eerie orange glow washed over the campsite. People ran in every direction, screaming and stumbling in their attempts to flee.
"Get out! It's the Death Eaters!" a frantic man shouted as he rushed past them. The name sent an icy shiver down Jupiter's spine, and she froze for a moment, her heart hammering.
"Get back to the Portkey, everybody, and stick together!" Mr. Weasley commanded, his voice firm despite the fear in his eyes. "Fred, George, Ginny is your responsibility! Go!"
In the distance, a dark mass moved across the field. A group of Death Eaters, tightly packed and advancing with wands raised toward the sky, where four bodies hung, writhing as if under some dreadful enchantment. The Death Eaters moved with calculated steps, their masked faces hidden in shadow, and it was clear they were puppeteering the figures above. Two of the bodies were heartbreakingly small.
