Chapter Six: Draco's Tale
Harish sat up with a groan. His back ached. His eyes fluttered open to see that he was lying in the tent on the couch with a pair of worried gray eyes above him. It was Sirius, watching him. Just beyond Harish's godfather were the twins and Draco, each holding a mug of hot chocolate.
"Harry!" Sirius exclaimed. "You're awake!"
"What happened?" Harish asked, sitting up. "Why was I knocked out?"
Everyone turned to Draco.
"I'm not sure why you were knocked out," he said slowly.
"Tell me everything that happened," Harish said.
Draco jumped as Harish dropped to the ground beside him.
"What happened to him?" the twins asked, turning around.
"I don't know, he just—"
There were a collection of popping sounds, and pounding of footsteps as twenty wizards appeared all around them. Draco stared at them in confusion before registering in his mind that they were all pointing their wands straight at Draco and the twins.
"DUCK!" one of the twins shouted as they both grabbed Draco, and pulled him to the ground beside Harish.
"STUPEFY!" roared twenty voices.
There was a blinding series of red flashes and Draco felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as the spells passed above his head.
"Stop!" yelled a voice he recognized. "STOP! Those're my sons!"
The spells stopped and Draco raised his head slightly to see that the clearing had gone dark, lit only by the eerie green glow of the Dark Mark. A dark figure in front of them had lowered his wand. Another figure walked up beside him.
Draco sat up and saw that it was Mr. Weasley and Sirius Black.
"Fred—George—" Mr. Weasley said, his voice sounding shaky. "Are you all right?"
Draco and the twins got to their feet. Harish was still lying unconscious.
"Harry!" Sirius exclaimed, leaping forward and grabbing his godson. "What happened to him?"
"I don't know—" Draco started again.
"Out of the way Arthur," came a curt voice.
It was Mr. Crouch. He and the other Ministry workers were closing in on them. Mr. Crouch's face was taut with rage.
"Which of you did it?" he snapped. His eyes darted between them. "Which of you conjured the Dark Mark?—"
"Wait," Harish said, interrupting the boy. "He thought you guys did it?"
"Yes," Draco replied. "It was a bit annoying really…"
"…We didn't do that!" Draco said, gesturing to the sky.
"Neither of us did," the twins said. "And Harish didn't have his wand."
"He was conscious then?" Sirius asked, looking up. His hand was still on Harish's wrist, checking his pulse.
Draco nodded.
"Do not lie sir!" Mr. Crouch shouted, looking slightly mad. His eyes were popping and his wand was pointed at Draco's heart. "You have been found at the scene of the crime!"
"Barty, they're just kids," a woman nearby muttered. "How could they have—"
"What exactly happened?" Mr. Weasley asked.
"We were sitting here, waiting on Mr. Blake when someone walked up over there," Draco pointed to the patch of darkness, which was now silent and still once again. "The twins asked who it was, and they didn't respond: they cast some spell that conjured it. Then, Harish fell on my foot."
Mr. Crouch still looked skeptical, but the others began to walk toward the dark patch, their wands out. None of them seemed to believe it was remotely likely either of them had conjured the skull.
"We're too late," the woman from before said, shaking her head. "They'll have Disapparated."
"I don't think so," said Amos Diggory. "Our Stunners went right through that clearing…There's a good chance we got them…"
"Amos be careful!" a few of the wizards warned as Cedric's father squared his shoulders, raised his wand, marched across the clearing, and disappeared into the darkness.
A few seconds later, they heard Mr. Diggory shout.
"Yes! We got them! There's someone here! Unconscious! It's—but—blimey…"
"You've got someone?" Mr. Crouch shouted, sounding highly disbelieving. "Who? Who is it?"
They heard snapping twigs, the rustling of leaves, and then crunching footsteps as Amos Diggory returned, a tiny limp figure held in his arms. It was the odd elf from before: Winky.
Mr. Crouch did not move or speak as Diggory deposited his elf on the ground at his feet. The other Ministry wizards were all staring at Mr. Crouch. For a few seconds, he remained transfixed, his eyes blazing in his white face as he stared down at Winky. Then, he seemed come back to life again.
"This—cannot—be," he said jerkily. "No—"
He moved quickly around Mr. Diggory and strode of into the place where Winky had been found.
"No point, Mr. Crouch," Cedric's father called after him. "There's no one else there."
But Mr. Crouch still rustled through the branches.
"Bit embarrassing," Diggory said grimly. "Barty Crouch's house elf…I mean to say…"
"Come off it, Amos," Mr. Weasley said quietly. "You don't really think the elf could have conjured the Dark Mark—You-Know-Who's sign? That requires a wand."
"Yeah," Diggory replied. "She had a wand."
And he held up—
"My wand?" Harish squawked. "Where is it now?"
Sirius, who was sitting on the coffee table, picked it up from beside him and handed it to his godson.
"How'd she get my wand?"
"We think someone might've taken it—"
"Used it. And framed—"
"Winky," the twins said.
Harish nodded.
"So what happened next?"
There was another pop and Ludo Bagman Apparated right next to Mr. Weasley. He was breathless and disoriented. He spun on the spot, goggling upward at the emerald green skull.
"The Dark Mark!" he panted, almost trampling Winky as he turned to his colleagues. "Who did it? Did you get them? Barty! What's going on?"
Mr. Crouch had returned empty handed. His face was still ghostly white, and his hands and his toothbrush mustache were both twitching.
"Where have you been, Barty?" Bagman asked. "Why weren't you at the match? Your elf saved you a seat too—gulping gargoyles!" Bagman had just noticed Winky lying at his feet. "What happened to her?"
"I have been busy, Ludo," Mr. Crouch replied, still talking in that same, jerky fashion. "And my elf has been stunned."
"Stunned? By you lot, you mean? But why—"
Comprehension suddenly dawned on his round face. He looked at the skull, down at Winky, and then at Mr. Crouch.
"No!" he said. "Winky? Conjure the Dark Mark? She wouldn't know how! She'd need a wand for a start!"
"And she had one," Mr. Diggory replied. "I found her holding one. If it's all right, Mr. Crouch, I think we should hear what she's got to say for herself."
Crouch gave no sign that he had heard the man, but Diggory took his silent for assent. He raised his own wand, pointed it at Winky, and said, "Rennervate!"
Winky stirred feebly. Her great brown eyes opened and she blinked several times in a confused sort of way. She shakily sat up, the wizards watching her every move. She caught sight of Mr. Diggory's feet, and slowly raised her eyes to stare up into his face. Then, even more slowly, she raised her tiny, pale face to the sky. She gasped, glanced all around the clearing, and then burst into terrified sobs.
"Elf!" Diggory said sternly. "Do you know who I am? I'm a member of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures!"
Winky began to rock backward and forward on the ground, her breaths coming in sharp gasps.
"As you see, elf, the Dark Mark was conjured here a short while ago," Diggory continued. "And you were discovered moments later, right beneath it! An explanation, if you please!"
"I—I—I is not doing it, sir!" Winky squeaked, fat tears rolling down her face. The Dark Mark was reflected in her large, shining eyes. "I is not knowing how, sir!"
"You were found with a wand in your hand!" Cedric's father barked, brandishing it in front of her. "You found this wand eh, elf? And you picked it up and thought you'd have some fun with it, did you?"
"I is not doing magic with it, sir!" Winky squealed. Her tears were now glistening as they fell onto her chest. "I is…I is…I is just picking it up, sir! I is not making the Dark Mark, sir, I is not knowing how!"
"I don't think it was her," Fred slowly.
"What?" the adults all asked, turning to the boy.
"Well," George said. "Her voice is too high."
"The voice we heard was low. Definitely human," Draco added.
"Well, we'll soon see," Mr. Diggory said, looking unimpressed.
Draco was angry. Why wouldn't they listen to the people that were actually there when the spell had been cast?
"There's a simple was of discovering the last spell a wand performed. Did you know that, elf? Anyhow…Prior Incantato!"
A small serpent-tongued skull flew out of the wand where the two met. It was the ghost of the previous spell.
"Deletrius!" Diggory shouted, and the smoky skull vanished in a wisp of smoke.
"So," Mr. Diggory said, triumph gleaming in his eyes. Winky immediately began squeaking her innocence, but he roared, "YOU HAVE BEEN CAUGHT RED HANDED, ELF! CAUGHT WITH THE GUILTY WAND IN YOUR HAND!"
"Amos," Mr. Weasley said loudly. "Think about it…she could've picked that wand up anywhere. Winky?" he asked kindly. Winky flinched as though he too had yelled at her. "Where did you find Harish's wand?"
"I—I is finding there sir," Winky said, raising a shaking hand to point to where she had been found. "In the trees. But I is only picking it up! I is a good elf!"
"You see, Amos?" Mr. Weasley said. "Whoever conjured the Mark must have Disapparated right after they'd done it, leaving Harish's wand behind. A clever thing to do, not using their own wand, which could have betrayed them. And Winky, here, had the misfortune to come across it moments later and pick it up."
"But then, she'd have been only a few feet away from the culprit! Elf? Did you see anyone?"
Winky began to tremble worse than ever. Her huge eyes flickered from Diggory, to Bagman, and onto Mr. Crouch. Then she gulped and said, "I is seeing no one, sir…no one…"
"Amos," Mr. Crouch said curtly. "I am fully aware that, in the ordinary course of events, you would want to take Winky into your department for questioning. I ask you, however, to allow me to deal with her."
Mr. Diggory looked as though he didn't think much of this suggestion at all, but it was clear that Mr. Crouch was such an important member of the Ministry that he dare not refuse him.
"You may be assured that she will be punished," Mr. Crouch said coldly.
"M-m-master…" Winky stammered, looking up at Crouch, her eyes brimming with tears. "M-m-master, p-p-please…"
Mr. Crouch stared back, his face void of any emotion. There was no pity in his eyes.
"Winky has behaved tonight in a manner I would not have believed possible," he said slowly. "I told her to remain in the tent. I told her to stay there while I went to sort out the trouble. And I find that she disobeyed me. This means clothes."
"No!" Winky shrieked, throwing herself onto her master's feet, sobbing. "No, master! Not clothes, not clothes!"
Winky was crying so hard her sobs echoed about the otherwise silent clearing. Mr. Weasley finally broke the silence, saying quietly, "Well, I think I'll head back to my tent, if no one objects—my children are waiting on me there. Amos, that wand's told us all it can—if I could take it, please—"
Mr. Diggory handed him Harish's wand.
"Come on you three," Sirius muttered, levitating Harish after them...
"There's one thing I don't get," Fred said finally.
"What is that?" Harish asked, turning to his friend.
"Well, if those were—you know—your father's followers out tonight, why did they Disapparate when they saw the Dark Mark?"
"Yeah," George agreed. "They'd have been pleased to see it, wouldn't they?"
Harish shook his head.
"They have all been spending the past fourteen years trying to stay out of Azkaban," he replied. "So has my father, for that matter…Whoever conjured that Mark wasn't like the rest of them…he was unafraid to show his alliance to my father in front of the world."
"But…the person who did conjure the Mark," Draco asked. "Were they doing it to show support, or to scare them away?"
"Your guess is as good as ours," Sirius said. "Listen, it's very late. I agreed with Arthur that we would all head out first thing tomorrow. We'll try to get a few more hours sleep, and then we'll catch an early Portkey out of here."
So, Harish climbed back into his bunk, his head buzzing. He ought to be exhausted, as it was nearly three in the morning, but he was wide awake. Who was it that had conjured the Mark? Who had knocked him out, and why? Had they known who his father really was?
Harish lay on his back, looking up at the canvas. No flying fantasies came to him now to ease him to sleep, and it was a long time after the other's breathing evened out that Harish finally dozed off.