Eventually, the three of us, along with Mr. Weasley reached the edge of the forest. A large crowd of frightened-looking witches and wizards was congregated there, and when they saw Mr. Weasley coming toward them, many of them surged forward
"What's going on in there?"
"Who conjured it?"
"Arthur — it's not — Him?"
"Of course it's not Him," said Mr. Weasley impatiently. "Look, Amelia has taken all of this under a DMLE investigation, so I can't say much. Now excuse us please, I want to get to bed."
Mr. Weasley led us through the crowd back to the campsite. It was now deserted, with no masked men, though many tents were still smoking and there were scars on the earth, indicating cursed magic.
I recognized most of these, due to my last life. I had been an Auror, a damn good one in fact. And these curses were some of the darkest I could remember. How dark had this war truly been? And how oblivious was I to most of it?
Charlie's head was poking out of the boys' tent. "Dad, what's going on?" he called through the dark. "Fred, George, and Ginny got back okay, but the others —"
"I've got them here," said Mr. Weasley, bending down and entering the tent. Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered after him. Bill was sitting at the small kitchen table, holding a bedsheet to his arm, which was bleeding profusely. Charlie had a large rip in his shirt, and Percy was sporting a bloody nose. Fred, George, and Ginny looked unhurt, though shaken.
"Did you get them, Dad?" said Bill sharply. "The person who conjured Mark?"
Bill, being the oldest among the Weasley children, had witnessed first hand some of the trying times that his family had faced in the first blood war. And he was more than aware about the dark aftermath of the war.
"No," Mr. Weasley said. "Though we did find out who he was. Actually Harry did," He looked at me for a second, his expression unreadable. He turned back to Bill, "He escaped. It's a DMLE investigation now."
Soon Mr. Weasley filled everyone with the details of what had transpired, though he stayed secretive about the man who had casted the mark.
"But I'll tell you this … it was only the Death Eaters who ever knew how to conjure it. I'd be very surprised if the person who did it hadn't been a Death Eater once, even if they're not now. … Listen, it's very late, and if your mother hears what's happened she'll be worried sick. We'll get a few more hours of sleep and then try and get an early Portkey out of here." Mr. Weasley said tiredly, but with a tone of finality.
I got back into my bunk, my brain buzzing with thoughts and a headache. I wouldn't be able to sleep and I knew it. This all was too much for me. If i have to live back in time, i would have to free myself from Dumbledore's mechanisations. I would have to remove the Horcrux from my scar, destroy other Horcruxes, cleanse my magic from all the darkness from Voldemort's soul shard, and of course become magically and physically stronger. I need to do all these things fast. After that maybe I will bring Dumbledore in with my plans. But most importantly, I need to learn Occlumency. It will all be futile if anyone could pluck my thoughts on whim, or if I can't manage and retain the stuff I discover.
Sounds of snoring filled the tent—'Charlie' I thought. Others had also fallen asleep. But there was no rest for the wicked. I closed my eyes, concentrating on my magical core, it was time to learn. For the Wizarding World I would once again sacrifice everything.
After a few hours, Mr. Weasley woke everyone up. I wasn't asleep but my eyes were still closed as I concentrated on my abysmal magical core and Occlumency. I was so much better in last life. Well i was older too at the time I suppose.
Mr. Weasley packed the tent with magic, and we left the campsite as quickly as possible, passing Mr. Roberts at the door of his cottage. Mr. Roberts had a strange, dazed look about him, and he waved them off with a vague "Merry Christmas."
"He'll be alright," said Mr. Weasley quietly as they marched off onto the moor. "Sometimes, when a person's memory's modified, it makes him a bit disorientated for a while … and that was a big thing they had to make him forget."
We heard urgent voices as We approached the spot where the Portkeys lay, and when We reached it, we found a great number of witches and wizards gathered around Basil, the keeper of the Portkeys, all clamoring to get away from the campsite as quickly as possible. Mr. Weasley had a hurried discussion with Basil; they joined the queue and were able to take an old rubber tire back to Stoatshead Hill before the sun had really risen.
We started walking back towards the burrow. It was a long trek, something I was used to, but young me wasn't. Especially considering that I was getting tired right now. Absurd really. As we rounded the corner and the Burrow came into view, a cry echoed along the lane.
Oh thank goodness, thank goodness!" Mrs. Weasley, who had evidently been waiting for them in the front yard, came running toward them, still wearing her bedroom slippers, her face pale and strained, a rolled-up copy of the Daily Prophet clutched in her hand. "Arthur — I've been so worried — so worried —"
SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP, complete with a twinkling black-and-white photograph of the Dark Mark over the treetops, the headline of the Prophet read.
To everybody's surprise, she seized Fred and George and pulled them both into such a tight hug that their heads banged together.
"Ouch! Mum — you're strangling us —"
"I shouted at you before you left!" Mrs. Weasley said, starting to sob. "That's all I've been thinking about! What if You-Know-Who had got you, and the last thing I ever said to you was that you didn't get enough O.W.L.s? Oh Fred … George …"
A small smile, unbeknownst to me, tinkered on my lips. Oh the mothering and nurturing women, Mrs. Weasley. I had missed her.
"Come on, now, Molly, we're all perfectly okay," said Mr. Weasley soothingly, prising her off the twins and leading her back toward the house. "Bill," he added in an undertone, "pick up that paper, I want to see what it says. …"
All of us crammed into the tiny kitchen and Hermione made a very strong tea for Mrs. Weasley. Mr. Weasley insisted on adding some Firewhiskey in it. Mr. Weasley Read the paper and muttered heavily and furiously, he looked at the end of the article and a small realization came, "Of course… Skeeter."
"That woman's got it in for the Ministry of Magic!" said Percy furiously. "Last week she was saying we're wasting our time quibbling about cauldron thickness, when we should be stamping out vampires! As if it wasn't specifically stated in paragraph twelve of the Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-Humans —"
"Do us a favor, Perce," said Bill, yawning, "and shut up."
"I'm mentioned," Mr. Weasley said, and showed it to Mrs. Weasley. He heaved a deep sigh. "Molly, I'm going to have to go into the office; this is going to take some smoothing over."
"I'll come with you, Father," said Percy importantly. "Mr. Crouch will need all hands on deck. And I can give him my cauldron report in person."
Fred and George snickered and Bill facepalmed at Percy's words.
Mrs. Weasley looked most upset. "Arthur, you're supposed to be on holiday! This hasn't got anything to do with your office; surely, they can handle this without you?"
I looked at Ron and asked, "Mind if I crash into your room? I feel… exhausted."
"Sure, mate."
That reply was all I needed. I darted up through the stairs and went to his room, crashing on one of the beds. There was one thing that was most pertinent at the moment. And it was to develop Occlumency shields. I needed to do it. I knew how to do it. And I knew I would be spending hours in the upcoming weeks developing it.
In the last few days, I had developed a kind of pattern. I would spend time with Ron and Hermione. Complete my homework, surprisingly for Hermione, by myself. I would play quidditch. And I would spend a few hours developing my Occlumency.
"So~ Harry-kins—" George started
"We heard something very interesting—" Fred continued, sitting to my left. George sat to my right.
"Oh. Hmm? And what might that be, Fred?" I asked, looking at him.
It was close to dawn, daybreak only a few minutes away. I was surprised that even the twins were awake since no one else was. George smirked and placed an arm around my shoulder.
"We might have—"
"Perhaps, not might, but had?"
"Perhaps Forge, but that's not the topic—"
"Oh yes, yes, Gred—"
"So Harry-kin~ did you really pressed two wands against Barty Crouch Senior—"
"The freaking head of the department of International Magical Cooperation—"
"How could you two accuse me of such blasphemy?" I said with a mock theatric, placing my hands on my heart, as if hurt.
Both of them snickered.
"Oh dear! How could we—"
"To hurl such sacrilege on our innocent harry—"
Finally, unable to hold myself, I laughed. "Perhaps I had?"
"Oh my—"
"Our king!"
"Even we have not done something like that ever—"
I shrugged while looking at the grassy terrain. "You guys wanna tag along on a jog?" They nodded and we started jogging. A jog in the morning was always refreshing, especially in such a great grassy landscape. After about an hour or two I laid down on the grass, tired.
"Looks like someone is tired," I heard Hermione mutter, as she walked towards us three, her face a mix of surprise and confusion. "Only started Today." She nodded at my response. "Is Ron awake?"
"Probably asleep," She said, with an annoyed look. "Mrs. Weasley is about to make dinner, you three should consider heading home and getting fresh."
"As the smart lady commands—" Fred started.
"We shall follow her lead—" George finished, standing up.
I also stood up, and we started walking towards the Burrow. I could smell the meal that the Weasley matriarch was cooking and felt my mouth water. Mrs. Weasley made food worth dying for.
After getting fresh, we returned to the kitchen and sat down. Fred and George opted to sit at a far corner, busying themselves in hushed whispers as they jotted down some stuff in a parchment with a quill. Hermione was busy reading a book, Standard book of spell, grade 4.
"Your father hasn't had to go into the office on weekends since the days of You-Know-Who," Mrs. Weasley said to Percy who himself was engrossed in reading complaint letters.
"Well, Father feels he's got to make up for his mistake at the match, doesn't he?" said Percy. "If truth be told, he was a tad unwise to make a public statement without clearing it with his Head of Department first"
"If Dad hadn't said anything, old Rita would just have said it was disgraceful that nobody from the Ministry had commented," said Bill, who was playing chess with Ron. "Rita Skeeter never makes anyone look good. Remember, she interviewed all the Gringotts' Charm Breakers once, and called me 'a long-haired pillock'?"
"Well, it is a bit long, dear," said Mrs. Weasley gently. "If you'd just let me —"
"No, Mum."
"What are you two up to?" said Mrs. Weasley sharply, her eyes on the twins.
"Homework," said Fred vaguely.
"Don't be ridiculous, you're still on holiday," said Mrs. Weasley.
"Yeah, we've left it a bit late," said George.
"You're not by any chance writing out a new order form, are you?" said Mrs. Weasley shrewdly. "You wouldn't be thinking of restarting Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, by any chance?"
"Now, Mum," said Fred, looking up at her, a pained look on his face. "If the Hogwarts Express crashed tomorrow, and George and I died, how would you feel to know that the last thing we ever heard from you was an unfounded accusation?"
Everyone laughed at that, even Mrs. Weasley. Soon Mr. Weasley came to the kitchen too for breakfast.
"Artur, breakfast's ready, take the seat." Mrs. Weasley said. "And Percy, put the letters down. No work during breakfast!"
After the breakfast, Mrs. Weasley sent us to pack our stuff. We would be leaving for Hogwarts soon. Hogwarts, the word itself brings so many memories. I almost felt like crying when I realized that I would be returning to Hogwarts. My true home.
After about thirty minutes, and a small signature Ronald outburst thanks to his second hand dress robes, everything was packed.
The next day, I woke up early too. I was about to go for a jog when I was stopped by Hermione. "Morning Hermione… you look a little." I tried to read her expression, "A little… confused… disturbed?
"It's nothing… just," She said. "Can we talk?"
I looked at her, a little confused, "Of course, what happened."
We sat down and she started, "It's just… you have been different since the world cup…"
"Oh… well yeah," I said, my mind working in overdrive to come up with something, anything. "Its just, everything we saw… You know?"
"Yeah… It was so… scary…" Hermione trembled a little. "Death eaters… running in the forest… and then… so many spells were hurled at us by the… ministry officials… and then the dark mark and that man… who escaped." She was nearly on the verge of tears.
I gently took one of her hands, "Hey… we are safe… everyone is fine."
"No…no…" She shook, a few tears rolling down. "You… handled everything… so smoothly… like… so well."
"I didn't. I pulled my wand against a high ranking head of the department." I said. I lightly squeezed her hand.
"I felt so useless… I was stunned when all the spells came… and—"
I lightly pulled her in a hug. She was a little taller than me, maybe an inch. She hugged me back immediately, burying her face in my shoulder. I lightly patted her back. "We are safe now. And we always have each other's back, right. You… me… and Ron. As long as we are together, nothing can harm us."
"Hm… Yes." Hermione said, feeling a little better. "You know… You have been a little distant lately… and well… Ron is Ron…"
"I am sorry, I was just… a little shaken by the attack… I was trying to… you know… get better… and I also didn't want to just copy your work, it would be unfair."
"As you said, we are a team, best friends… You, me and Ron. I don't hate it when you guys copy my work… I just want you to understand it too…"
"I know 'Mione. You are a great friend," I said as we separated from the hug. "Wanna join me?"
"No… I will lay down for a bit." She answered, her voice not as shaky as earlier.
"Of course," I said and saw as she retreated back to the room she was sharing with Ginny. After the low thud of the door came, as she entered her room, I left for my morning jog.
The tension from the conversation with Hermione slowly faded as cool air rushed against my skin during the jog. There was so much I needed to do. And I also needed to be inconspicuous, something I knew would be hard. Hermione was too perspective. I need to maintain these friendships. Both she and Ron had always helped me, trusted me, even if we had faced disagreement and fights from time to time, our friendship has always prevailed.
We would be leaving for Hogwarts in a few hours. That's good. There I would be able to start with a lot of stuff that needed to be done. Here is the list, not in order:
1) Perform exorcism ritual and get rid of the Horcrux.
2) Perform cleansing ritual to clean my blood and core.
3) Destroy the Diadem
4) Train magic and use the Hogwarts library to the fullest
5) Hopefully reach at least level 5 Occlumency by the end of year. For reference I was level 2 at the moment and the highest level is 7.
6) Participate in Triwizard Tournament, preventing Cedric's death this time.
7) Reveal Crouch Junior's identity, preferably before the third task, to Dumbledore.
8) Maintain friendships with Hermione, Ron, Fred, George and Neville at least. And also get closer with people from other houses, including Slytherins.
9)Relearn Parselmagic and Stronger spells, as well as getting used to performing stronger magic.
10)Strengthen my magical core and make it bigger.
Yes… that's a long list. But all of these have to be done. And I need to be vigilant. The sky was clear, stars departing, a new day approaching… and so was the inevitable Hogwarts express to the King's Cross.