A Hogwarts Legend: Chaos Begins [4] (SLOW UPDATES)

Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten - "If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands."

"Don't tell your mother you've been gambling," Mr Weasley implores Fred and George, as we all make our way slowly down the purple-carpeted stairs.

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

Mr Weasley looks for a moment as though he's going to ask what these big plans are, but seems to decide, upon reflection, that he doesn't want to know.

We're soon caught up in the crowds now flooding out of the stadium and back to their campsites. Raucous singing is bourne towards us on the night air as we retrace our steps along the lantern-lit path, and leprechauns keep shooting over our heads, cackling and waving their lanterns. When we finally reach the tents, nobody feels like sleeping at all and, given the level of noise around us, Mr Weasley agrees that we can all have one last cup of cocoa together before turning in. We're soon arguing enjoyably about the match; Mr Weasley gets drawn into a disagreement about cobbing with Charlie, and it's only when Ginny falls asleep right at the tiny table and spills hot chocolate all over the floor that Mr Weasley calls a halt to the verbal replays, and insists that everyone goes to bed. Hermione, Ginny, Elinor and I say goodnight to the boys and head into our tent, where we change quickly and clamber into our beds.

I 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 the Irish team's more spectacular moves. I see myself in robes that have my name on the back, and imagine the sensation of hearing a hundred-thousand-strong crowd roar, as Ludo Bagman's voice echoes throughout the stadium, "I give you ... Potter!"

I don't know whether I've actually dropped off to sleep or not - my fantasies of flying like the Irish team may well have slipped into actual dreams - all I know is that, quite suddenly, Mr Weasley is shouting.

"Get up! Emily - Elinor - come on now, get up, this is urgent!"

I sit up quickly and the top of my head hits canvas.

"'S'matter?" I say.

Dimly, I can tell that something is wrong. The noises in the campsite have changed. The singing has stopped. I can hear screams, and the sound of people running.

I slip down from the bunk, and reach for my clothes, but Mr Weasley says, "No time, Emily - just grab a jacket and get outside - quickly!"

I do as I'm told, and hurry out of the tent, Elinor on my heels, running straight into Harry and Ron.

By the light of the few fires that are still burning, I can see people running away into the woods, fleeing something that's moving across the field towards us, something that is emitting odd flashes of light, and noises like gunfire. Loud jeering, roars of laughter and drunken yells are drifting towards us; then comes a burst of strong green light, which illuminates the scene.

A crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wands pointing straight upwards, is matching slowly across the fields. I squint at them ... they don't seem to have faces ... then I realise that their heads are hooded and their faces masked. High above them, floating along in mid-air, four struggling figures are being contorted into grotesque shapes. It's as though the masked wizards in the ground are puppeteers, and the people above us are marionettes operated by invisible strings that rise from the wands into the air. Two of the figures are very small.

More wizards are joining the marching group, laughing and pointing up at the floating bodies. Tents crumple and fall as the marching crowd swells. Once or twice I see one of the marchers last a tent out of his way with his wand. Several catch fire. The screaming grows louder.