My Uncle insisted that all was fine and forgiven, and was about to go get the beverages himself, when the Irish flew out onto the field. Everyone shouted and screamed, drinks out of mind, and I put on the enchanted earmuffs I had brought with me for obvious reasons.
I didn't watch much of the match, but when it was time to head back to our tent, I was quite thankful. It was very well past midnight, and I'll admit, I was exhausted. My cousins and their friends, however, seemed fit as fiddles: as if they had just jugged down more than a few rounds of Butterbeer. I suspected they most likely had, but in the past hour or so, I had been dead to the world; so, there was really no telling.
When we got to the tent, I made myself a mug of tea, and sat down in the living room area. Now, that might sound relaxing, but it was something far from that. Why? Well, because the boys were all hoping around singing about someone called Victor Krum. I suspected he was a Quidditch player, and –considering his name's roots- he was almost definitely from the Bulgarian team.
I was about to either move to my bunk, or put on my muffs again, when the screaming outside became a bit too loud for comfort.
"Something's wrong." I stood up, worried.
"Oh, you're just tired, M." Fred laughed. "The Irish have got their pride on, that's all."
My suspicions, however, were confirmed when Uncle Arthur rushed into the tent, frightened expression prominent on his face.
The boys didn't seem to notice: George began a pillow fight with Ron.
"Stop; Stop!" he broke between them. "We've got to get out of here." he took Ginny's arm, and led her towards the entrance flap. "Now!" he started pushing us all out.
I sensed the danger ahead of us, and ran to my bunk.
I could hear them all leaving.
"Get back to the Portkey, everyone. And stick together! Fred, George; Ginny is your re..."
They were cut off from my hearing range as I reached my trunk. I grabbed it, and then sprinted outside –with trouble, considering I was lugging around a full trunk-, just in time to see my uncle be herded away by the crowd. Everything, and I mean everything, was on fire. People dressed in black robes, with cone shaped hats, and skeleton masks, were terrorizing anyone they could get their hands on.
"Death Eaters!" somebody shouted.
Speaking of that, two hands suddenly grasped my arms, and pushed me to the ground. I looked up in shock and horror to find one of these Death Eaters. They grabbed my wand, and started to drag me away.
"No! Let me go!" I struggled, but obviously wasn't strong enough to break their grasp.
Out of nowhere, I heard someone mutter a spell, and the Death Eater was thrown nearly ten feet away. I looked behind me, for whoever had saved me. Nobody was there.
I hurriedly grabbed my wand –now on the ground-, and cast a charm to lighten my load.
"Wingardium Leviosa." I was honestly surprised when it worked, and my trunk rose into the air (I had been trying to perfect that charm for months). I directed it in the right direction with my wand as I ran. I kept running, on and on, until I escaped where the Death Eaters were. I tripped several times, and fell into ash, and broken wood. Despite the bloody scratches and black soot on my skin, I continued on. At last, once I believed I was safe, my legs collapsed under me. I was a pitiful lump among charred broomsticks, and the smoking remains of tents.
Suddenly, I heard a moan.
I willed my eyes to open, and I realized another person lay not nine inches away from me. I couldn't see them clearly, though; I grabbed my glasses, and put them on quickly. As I arose, ankle slightly twisted from my most recent fall, it came to my attention that the person had a certain lightning scar.
"Harry!" I limped to his side.
He was lying on the ground, unconscious, with a large bump on his head. I supposed he had been knocked out when he ran into something. He was beginning to wake, however, and I was about to greet him back to the world, when I could hear loud footsteps behind me.
I turned my head slowly, and spotted a shadowy figure in the distance. Startled, I gasped, but then quickly covered my mouth. Thankfully, they hadn't seen, or heard me...
YOU ARE READING
Mafalda Prewett-Weasley
FanficMafalda Prewett-Weasley is an...odd child. She prefers the indoors to the outdoors, has an awful over-studying habit, and absolutely despises her cousin Ron. Her journey is just about to begin when she first arrives at Hogwarts, very eager (perhaps...