Harry Potters Twin Book Four

My Handsome Hero

 "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."

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.

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 us, Mr. Weasley agreed that we could all have one last cup of cocoa together before turning in. We 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 and Ginny and I went into the next tent, and Harry and the rest of the Weasleys changed into pajamas and clambered into their's.

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

"Goodnight, Hermione," I yawned, stretching my arms and legs. "Goodnight Ginny."

"Goodnight Nixie," Hermione said tiredly. "Goodnight Ginny."

Me and Hermione waited for Ginny to reply but all we got were soft snores coming from the bunk above mine.

I chuckled under my breath and closed my eyes, letting sleep take over...

"Ginny, Hermione, Nixie! Wake up!" I heard Mr. Weasley say, his voice panicked.

"Five more hours," I murmered, rolling to my side and lifting my eyelids just enough to see Mr. Weasley's pale face. "Whats the hurry?"

"Get up! Its urgent!" he said, running to his daughter and ripping the covers off of her.

I gave my head a sharp shake and sat up quickly.

"Whats wrong, Mr. Weasley?" Hermione said.

Dimly, 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 slipped down from the bunk and reached for my clothes, but Mr. Weasley, who had pulled on his jeans over his own pajamas, said, "No time, Nixie - just grab a jacket and get outside - quickly!"

I didn't bring a jacket (and I wasn't keen on running around outside in my short nightgown) but I did grab my wand and stuff it in my fluffy boots. I then ran outside the tent, Ginny, Hermione, and Mr. Weasley 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 us, something that was emitting odd flashes of light and noises like gunfire.

Loud jeering, roars of laughter, and drunken yells were drifting toward us; then came a burst of strong green light, which illuminated the scene. A crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wands pointing straight upward, was marching slowly across the field. I squinted at them… They didn't seem to have faces… Then I realized that their heads were hooded and their faces masked.

High above us, floating along in midair, four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes. It was as though the masked wizards on the ground were puppeteers, and the people above them were marionettes operated by invisible strings that rose from the wands into the air.