Chapter Five: Furious Fathers
It was Quidditch as Harish had never seen. The players flew at lightning speed, tossing the Quaffle back and forth so fast that Bagman only had time enough to call out their names. Irish flew so well, it was as if they were reading each other's minds.
Ireland scored three times within ten minutes, causing the game to go even faster and much more brutal; the Irish formation was forced to scatter as the Bulgarian beaters began smacking people with their clubs, Lynch was the victim of a Wronski Feint, and Krum was hit in the face by a bludger resulting in a horribly bloody nose. Then, of course the veela and leprechauns got into a fight and the veela sprouted fangs.
But still the game continued at a very fast pace and Harish sat at the edge of his seat, Omnioculars pressed so hard to his face they were cutting into his nose. He shouted whenever there was a foul and screamed every time there was a goal. It was incredibly exciting.
Finally the match ended when Krum, specks of blood trailing behind him, streaked into a dive and caught the Snitch. The scoreboard was flashing BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170.
The twins jumped up and screamed, George clutching their betting slip.
"I knew it!" Fred shouted.
"What did I tell you!" George bellowed.
"What do you know!" Harish exclaimed gleefully, happy for his friends.
"IRELAND WINS!" Bagman roared, who like the Irish seemed to be taken aback by the sudden end of the match. "KRUM GETS THE SNITCH—BUT IRELAND WINS—good lord I don't think any of us were expecting that!"
"What did he catch the Snitch for?" Draco demanded. "He ended it while the Irish were still a hundred and sixty points ahead!"
"He knew they would never catch up!" Harish shouted over the noise of the crowd. "The Irish Chasers were too good…He wanted to end it on his terms, that's all…"
Flags were waving all over the stadium once again, the Irish nation anthem blared on all sides. The veela were shrinking back into their usual, beautiful selves, looking dispirited and forlorn.
"Vell, ve fought bravely," a gloomy voice said behind them. Harish looked around; it was the Bulgarian Minister of Magic.
"You can speak English!" Fudge said, sounding outraged. "And you've been letting me mime everything all day!"
"Vell, it vos very funny," the Bulgarian minister replied with a shrug.
Harish and the twins let out shouts of laughter.
"And the Irish team performs a lap of honor as the Quidditch World Cup itself is brought into the Top Box!" Bagman roared.
They were all suddenly blinded by a dazzling white light, as the Top Box was illuminated so that everyone in the stands could see inside. Squinting toward the entrance, Harish saw two panting wizards carrying a vast golden cup into the box, which they handed to Fudge, who was still looking disgruntled that he'd been miming all day for nothing.
"Let's have a hand for our gallant losers—Bulgaria!"
And up the stairs came the seven defeated Bulgarian players. The crowd below was applauding appreciatively. Harish could see thousands of Omniocular lenses flashing in their direction. One by one the players filed between the seats and shook hands with their own Minister and then Fudge. Krum, who was last in line, looked a real mess. His front was all bloody and two black eyes were swelling on his face. He still clutched the Snitch tightly.
And then came the Irish team. Lynch was being supported by Moran and Connolly; the second crash seemed to have dazed his and his eyes looked strangely unfocused. But he grinned happily as Tory and Quigley lifted the Cup into the air and the crowd below cheered. Harish's hands were numb from clapping; he had been applauding since the game had ended.
Bagman pointed his wand at his throat and muttered, "Quietus."
"They'll be talking about that one for years," he said hoarsely. "a really unexpected twist, that…shame it couldn't have lasted longer…Ah, yes…yes, I owe you…how much?"
The twins had just scrambled over the backs of their seats and were standing in front of Bagman with broad grins on their faces, their hands outstretched. Bagman dug around in his money pouch and poured gold into their hands.
"Don't tell your mother you've been gambling," Mr. Weasley muttered as the two parties left together.
"Don't worry, Dad," Fred said gleefully. "We've got big plans for this money."
"We don't want it confiscated."
Mr. Weasley looked concerned for a moment, before he pressed forward to herd Ron, Ginny and Neville toward Bill, Charlie, and Percy. Harish grinned at the twins and congratulated them. That was more money to go into their joke shop funds.
They were soon caught up in the crowds now flooding out of the stadium and back to their campsites. Raucous singing flew through 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, no one felt like sleeping at all.
Since it was the four boys chaperoned by a marauder they stayed up late, sipping hot cocoa and reliving the match over and over again. Finally, as everyone started to quiet down, Sirius insisted that they go to bed. Harish claimed the top buck on the left and Draco claimed the other one. The twins slept below them and Sirius slept on the bottom.
From the other side of the campsite they could still hear much singing and the odd echoing bang. Harish stared at the canvas above him, watching the glow of an occasional leprechaun flying overhead. Harish thought of all of the moves he had seen that day, envisioning himself performing some of them.
He had no idea when he had dropped off to sleep, his fantasies switching to dreams—all he knew was that he was suddenly being shaken awake again. Sirius was shouting.
"Get up! Harish—Draco—come on now, get up, this is urgent!"
Harish sat up quickly, his now messy hair brushing the canvas above him.
"S'matter?" he asked groggily.
Dimly, he could tell something was off. The noises in the campsite had changed. The singing had stopped. He could hear screams, and the sound of people running. He slipped down from the bunk and reached for his clothes, but Sirius said, "No time! Just grab a jacket and get outside—quickly!"
Harish did as he was told and ran out, followed closely by Draco. They found Sirius as the mouth of the tent with the twins already outside, gaping around. By the light of the few fires that were still burning, he could see people running away into the woods, fleeing something that was moving across the field towards them. Something that was emitting odd flashes of light and noises like gunfire. Tents were being trampled and set of fire as it came closer. Loud jeering, roars of laughter, and drunken yells were drifting toward them; 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 across the field. They were wearing masks and dark robes. The twins watched in horror and Harish turned to look at Draco; there was no doubt his father was among that crowd.
"Father's going to be furious," was all Harish could manage to say.
High above them, floating in midair, four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes. Harish could tell they were under the Imperious Curse. Two of the figures were very small.
"Your father's going to be furious?" the twins asked. "Our father's probably rushing over there to kill Draco's father!"
More tents were trampled and burned. The screaming grew louder.
"I need you lot to go into the woods! Stick together…" Sirius shouted. "I'm going to find Mr. Weasley and make sure he gets everyone out all right!"
"But what about Ginny—?"
"GO!"
The twins dashed off, dragging Harish, Draco was straggling behind them. The colored lamps had been extinguished. Dark figures were blundering up the path to the stadium, through the trees. Children were crying, anxious shouts and panicked voices were coming from all around them in the cold night air. Harish was being pushed back and forth and he struggled to stay with the others. Finally he got fed up and lit his wand. The others lit their wands as well, and he dragged them into a cluster of trees.
From there, they were far enough that they shouldn't be caught in the action, but close enough where they could look out for Sirius. Draco turned and watched the scene with revulsion.
"I can't believe this," he muttered. "I knew there was a war before but…I never knew they did this to innocent people."
"Neither did I," Harish said quietly.
His back was turned from the scene. His only reassurance was that he knew this hadn't been ordered by his father. The twins simply shook their heads. The four of them stood in silence for a moment before—
"I've lost my wand!"
Harish was searching his pockets frantically.
"Maybe you left it at the tent?" Draco suggested.
"No…I had it just now…"
Harish felt extremely vulnerable without his wand. Even when he knew he would be in no danger, being the son of Voldemort. A rustling sound nearby made them all jump. Winky the house-elf was fighting her way out of a clump of bushed. She was moving in a peculiar fashion, as though someone was holding her back.
"There is bad wizards about!" she squeaked. "People high—high in the air! Winky is getting out of the way!"
And she disappeared into the trees on the other side of the path, panting and squeaking as she fought the force that was restraining her.
"What's wrong—"
"With her?"
"She was disobeying orders," Draco said, finally turning from the scene beyond the trees.
They waited uncomfortably in silence for a moment. Then, Bagman appeared with a pop. He was white in the face and beads of sweat were on his forehead.
"What's going on? Why are you all here, alone?"
They all looked at each other in concern.
"There's sort of a riot going on in the camp," George replied, confused.
Bagman stared at him.
"What?"
Draco turned and pointed to a gap in the trees where they could still see burning tents and four floating figures. Another bang issued from the Death Eaters. Screaming could be heard now that they were silent.
Bagman cursed under his breath before Apparating away again.
They began to watch, wait, and listen again. The screams and noises seemed quieter; perhaps the riot was over.
"I wonder where the others are," Fred whispered as they sat down to wait.
Knowing that he was referring to his family, everyone remained silent.
"I'm sure they're fine," George finally said.
"Mad, though, to do something like this when the whole Ministry of Magic is out here!" Harish exclaimed quietly. He knew Draco was thinking the same thing. He was looking very pale. "I mean, how do they expect to get away with it? Have they been drinking, or are they just—"
He cut off and looked over his shoulder. He had heard someone staggering toward them. They waited, listening to the sounds of the uneven steps behind the dark trees. The footsteps then suddenly came to a halt.
Harish got to his feet and looked around. Was it Sirius? If it was him, why wasn't he greeting them? He could just sense someone standing there, but it was too dark to see.
"Hello?" Fred asked.
Harish shot him a look. There was silence. The others got to their feet as well and everyone except Harish drew their wands.
"Who—?" George queried.
Harish punched him in the side to get him to shut up.
And then, without warning, the silence was broken by a harsh voice.
"MOSMORDRE!"
Something vast, green, and glittering erupted from the patch of darkness Harish's eyes had been trying to penetrate; it flew up over the tree tops into the sky.
"What the—?" the twins asked.
Harish felt something hit his back. He quickly realized the green apparition was the Dark Mark, his father's mark, before he passed out.