CHAPTER THREE:

Third Person P.O.V.:

"Ah, Fenwick!" Ludo Bagman beamed as he turned around. "Great to see you!"

Charlie had immediately cowered under his father's intense gaze as Fenwick stood there in front of him. Hermione, Harry, and Ron all shared a worried glance before watching their friend and his father's interaction intently.

Fenwick had ignored Bagman completely, and instead repeated his previous question, "What has my son done that I should be proud of?"

"Little Char here has just bet on the match!" Ludo said cheerfully.

"Did he now? Interesting. Hopefully, he's putting my money to good use." Fenwick's tone was difficult to decipher, but regardless, he turned to Mr. Weasley who had suddenly gulped, "Ah, Arthur. How are you?"

"Very well, Minister. Thank you." Arthur said nervously. "And you?"

"Just splendid -"

Suddenly, Percy had made his way to the front of the crowd, "Mr. Minister, sir! It is such an honour!"

Fenwick was taken aback by Percy's eagerness as the ginger haired boy had reached forward and shook his hand aggressively.

"I work with you at the Ministry, but you probably don't know that. You're such a busy man after all! I work down in the Department of International Magical Cooperation! I actually just finished a report on cauldron -"

The Minister laughed slightly and pulled his hand away; a tone of sarcasm had appeared in Fenwick's voice, "Very spectacular indeed, young man. I appreciate your support."

Then Fenwick turned to Charlie, and had plastered an amused smile on his face, "Aren't you going to introduce me to your friends, Charles?"

The Weasley's, Hermione, and Harry could feel the tension in the air, almost as if there was something said that meant something completely different.

Charlie's memories of his father's stern voice had overcome him suddenly;

I assumed Lucius was joking when he said you've been associating with muggle-borns and blood traitors.

The boy knew what his father was trying to do, but he chose to ignore him; it was all to get a rise out of him. However, when Fenwick's gaze had singled in on Hermione, who stood behind his son, Charlie felt a wave of a protective instinct flush over him.

Charlie took a dangerous step forward, and confronted his father, blatantly ignoring his question completely, "I didn't think you'd be joining in today's festivities, father."

A twisted smile had crept up on Fenwick's face as he looked back towards his son, "It was a last minute decision. Something tells me today will be very exciting. Besides, I thought what better way to engage with my community than to participate in such a social gathering -"

"Meaning, you saw it as a business opportunity." Charlie sneered.

"Now, now, Charles," Fenwick scolded. "Don't be so pessimistic, son. It might get you in trouble one day -"

"Any news of Bertha Jorkins yet, Minister?" Mr. Weasley asked, trying to pull the attention off of Fenwick and Charlie.

"Not a dicky bird," said Minister Hawthorne, taking his eyes off of his son and plastering a weird smile on his face. "But she'll turn up. Poor old Bertha... memory like a leaky cauldron and no sense of direction. Lost, you take my word for it. She'll wander back into the office sometime in October, thinking it's still July."

"You don't think it might be time to send someone to look for her?" Mr. Weasley suggested tentatively, being mindful of upsetting the Minister.

"Barty Crouch keeps saying that," chimed Bagman, his round eyes widening innocently, "but we really can't spare anyone at the moment. Oh - talk of the devil! Barty!"

A wizard had just Apparated at their fireside, and he could not have made more of a contrast with Ludo Bagman, sprawled on the grass in his old Wasp robes.

"I've been looking for you everywhere." said Crouch, and there was a bite of impatience in his voice. "The Bulgarians are insisting we add another twelve seats to the Top Box."

"Oh is that what they're after?" said Bagman. "I thought the chap was asking to borrow a pair of tweezers. Bit of a strong accent."

"Oh and I've been wanting a word with you too, Arthur," said Mr. Crouch, his sharp eyes falling upon Mr. Weasley. "Ali Bashir's on the warpath. He wants a word with you about your embargo on flying carpets."

Mr. Weasley heaved a deep sigh.

"I sent him an owl about that just last week. If I've told him once I've told him a hundred times: Carpets are defined as a Muggle Artifact by the Registry of Proscribed Charmable Objects, but will he listen?"

"I doubt it," sneered Fenwick. "He's desperate to export here."

"Well, they'll never replace brooms in Britain, will they?" said Bagman.

"Ali thinks there's a niche in the market for a family vehicle," said Mr. Crouch. "I remember my grandfather had an Axminster that could seat twelve - but that was before carpets were banned, of course."

He spoke as though he wanted to leave nobody in any doubt that all his ancestors had abided strictly by the law.

"So, been keeping busy, Barty?" said Bagman breezily.

"Fairly," said Mr. Crouch dryly. "Organizing Portkeys across five continents is no mean feat, Ludo."

"I expect you'll be glad when this is over?" said Mr. Weasley.

Ludo Bagman looked shocked.

"Glad! Don't know when I've had more fun... Still, it's not as though we haven't got anything to took forward to, eh, Fenwick? Eh? Plenty left to organize, eh?"

Minister Hawthorne raised his eyebrows at Bagman, almost in an undeniable fury.

"We agreed not to make the announcement until all the details -"

"Oh details!" said Bagman, waving the word away like a cloud of midges. "They've signed, haven't they? They've agreed, haven't they? I bet you anything these kids'll know soon enough anyway. I mean, it's happening at Hogwarts -"

"Ludo, we need to meet the Bulgarians, you know," said Mr. Crouch sharply, cutting Bagman's remarks short.

"See you all later!" he said. "I'll be up in the Top Box - I'm commentating!" He waved, Barty Crouch nodded curtly, and both of them Disapparated.

"What's happening at Hogwarts?" said Charlie at once. "What were they talking about?"

"You'll find out soon enough," said Fenwick, sharply.

"It's classified information, until such time as the Ministry decides to release it," said Percy stiffly. "Mr. Hawthorne here, was quite right not to disclose it."

"Right I was," The Minister smiled before he singled in on his son. "Come now, Charles. There are people I would like to introduce you to."

Charlie immediately furrowed his brows before looking to the confused faces of his friends and then finally, he focused back on his father.

"I'm sorry?" he said, puzzled. "I was under the impression -"

"Well, I'm afraid your mistaken," Fenwick said with narrowed eyes. "I hope you didn't think I came all the way down here to engage in meaningless conversations. No, no, I've come to help you find the way to our seats in the Minister's box, and as I've said before, we have important people to meet."

The Minister shifted to Mr. Weasley, and eyed him up and down in judgmental gaze, "I appreciate you escorting my son to the grounds, Arthur. However, I'll be taking him from here... I'm sure you understand."

Charlie tried to plead with Mr. Weasley with his eyes, but Arthur simply gave him a look that practically said, I'm sorry.

Arthur plastered a sad smile on his face as he answered, "I understand. Run along, Charlie, that is your father's request."

"But -"

"This isn't up for debate, Charles." Fenwick scolded as he raised his left arm, signalling for his son to join him in his Apparation.

The brown eyed boy step forward hesitantly, his gaze dropping to the floor out of shame. He came up on his father's left, and wrapped a firm hand around his arm. Before they Disapparated, Charlie looked up to his friends with a sorrow-filled gaze, but his eyes landed on one person in particular...

Their eyes had said so much in that moment. Hermione was scared when it came to leaving Charlie alone with his father, especially after everything that he had told her last year. The boy tried to reassure her, as usual of course, but in a flash, his father and him had disappeared, leaving Hermione unsatisfied and beyond worried.

-------------

The stairs into the stadium were carpeted in rich purple. Fenwick pulled Charlie upward with the rest of the crowd, which slowly filtered away through doors into the stands to their left and right. They kept climbing, and at last they reached the top of the staircase and found themselves in a small box, set at a point for the perfect view of the stadium. The box had overlooked the entire Quidditch pitch perfectly. The room had been filled with about twenty or so Ministry members, including Bagman, and, unfortunately, the Malfoy's.

Charlie ignored them all, as he moved away from his father to peer down upon a scene the likes of which he could never have imagined. A hundred thousand witches and wizards were taking their places in the seats, which rose in levels around the long oval field. Everything was suffused with a mysterious golden light, which seemed to come from the stadium itself. The field looked smooth as velvet from their lofty position.

At either end of the field stood three goal hoops, fifty feet high, and behind them, was a gigantic blackboard. Gold writing kept dashing across it as though an invisible giant's hand were scrawling upon the blackboard and then wiping it off again; watching it, Charlie saw that it was flashing advertisements across the field.

Charlie tore his gaze from the glass as he noticed a familiar-looking creature that stood in the direct eye-line of his peripheral view.

The creature, whose legs were so short they stuck out in front of it on the chair, was wearing a tea towel draped like a toga, and it had its face hidden in its hands. Yet those long, batlike ears were oddly familiar....

"Dobby?" said Charlie incredulously, approaching the house-elf a little.

The elf looked up and stretched its fingers, revealing enormous brown eyes and a nose the exact size and shape of a large tomato. It wasn't Dobby - it was, however, unmistakably a house-elf.

"Did sir just call me Dobby?" squeaked the elf curiously from between its fingers. Its voice was higher than Dobby's had been, a teeny, quivering squeak of a voice, and Charlie suspected, though it was very hard to tell with a house-elf - that this one might just be female.

"Sorry," Charlie told the elf, "I just thought you were someone I knew."

"But I knows Dobby too, sir!" squeaked the elf. She was shielding her face, as though blinded by light, though the room was not brightly lit. "My name is Winky, sir - and you, sir -"

Her dark brown eyes widened to the size of side plates as they rested upon the boy's big brown eyes. "You is surely Charlie Hawthorne!"

The boy smiled softly, "Yeah, I am."

"Dobby talks of you all the time, sir!" she said, lowering her hands very slightly and looking awestruck.

"How is he?" asked Charlie, genuinely interested. "How's freedom suiting him?"

"Ah, sir," said Winky, shaking her head, "ah sir, meaning no disrespect, sir, but I is not sure you did Dobby a favor, sir, when you is setting him free."

"Why?" The brown eyed boy spoke, taken aback slightly. "What's wrong with him?"

"Freedom is going to Dobby's head, sir, " said Winky sadly. "Ideas above his station, sir. Can't get another position, sir."

"Why not?"

Winky lowered her voice by a half-octave and whispered, "He is wanting paying for his work, sir."

"Paying?" said Charlie blankly. "Well - why shouldn't he be paid?"

Winky looked quite horrified at the idea and closed her fingers slightly so that her face was half-hidden again.

"House-elves is not paid, sir!" she said in a muffled squeak. "No, no, no. I says to Dobby, I says, go find yourself a nice family and settle down, Dobby. He is getting up to all sorts of high jinks, sir, what is unbecoming to a house-elf. You goes racketing around like this, Dobby, I says, and next thing I hear you's up in front of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, like some common goblin."

Charlie was slightly confused, "Isn't it about time that he had a little bit of fun?"

"House-elves is not supposed to have fun, Charlie Hawthorne," said Winky firmly, from behind her hands. "House-elves does what they is told. I is not liking heights at all, Charlie Hawthorne" - she glanced toward the edge of the box and gulped - "but my master sends me to the Box and I comes, sir."

"Why's he sent you up here, if he knows you don't like heights?" said Charlie, frowning.

"Master - master wants me to save him a seat, Charlie Hawthorne. He is very busy," said Winky, tilting her head toward the empty space beside her. "Winky is wishing she is back in master's tent, Charlie Hawthorne, but Winky does what she is told. Winky is a good house-elf."

As the boy went to speak, his father's voice had bellowed him over, "Charles, my dear son! Come here a moment! There's people here that I'd love for you to meet!"

Charlie shook his head slightly as Winky cowered under Fenwick's loud voice, "You must not keep Minister Hawthorne waiting, sir. I says go! Go!"

The brown eyed boy walked over slowly towards his father, an official looking couple, and a girl, that appeared to be around Charlie's age.

As he approached, he plastered an small smile on his face as his father put a hand on his shoulder.

"This is Pierre Dumont, the Minister of Magic up in France," Fenwick beamed, pointing to a tall man with a moustache.

"Bonjour!" spoke Pierre in a delighted voice as he bent down slightly to shake Charlie's hand before introducing his family, "Zis is my wife, Adeline, and my daughter, Elaina."

Charlie turned to the two women and nodded his head, "Pleasure to meet you."

Adeline was beaming at the sight of Charlie, "Bonjour! Tu es très beau! You agree with moi, Elaina, non?"

For the first time, the brown eyed boy looked and took in the sight of Elaina Dumont. She was very beautiful, to say the least; almost as enchanting as a Veela, but with dark brown hair and a sweet smile.

"Maman, s'il te plaît calme toi," Elaina spoke softly before turning to the boy, "It's nice to meet you."

"Regarde comme ils sont mignons!" Adeline spoke once again, gawking at her daughter interacting with the cute, young boy.

"Adeline, s'il vous plaît." Pierre laughed as he turned to Charlie. "Tu attend Hogwarts, non?"

The brown eyed boy nodded slowly before his father spoke on his behalf.

"Indeed he does!" Fenwick hyped up. "One of the best in his class! I'm sure he'd be happy to show Elaina around when she comes to visit -"

Charlie raised a brow, "Visit?"

His father narrowed his eyes slightly, basically telling his son not to question it.

"Très bien!" Pierre spoke, excitedly, ignoring the boy's confusion.

Fenwick smiled widely, "Perhaps, they can talk while we discuss business?"

"Very well," Pierre said, escorting his wife to the bar with Fenwick, leaving Charlie standing there awkwardly with the young French girl.

"I'm sorry about my parents," Elaina spoke, bashfully. "They always get excited when we come to the UK - you'd think they'd practice their English a bit more though..."

"It's alright. I understood almost everything." Charlie laughed slightly, "But you - you seem to have the English-speaking thing down pretty well."

Elaina nodded, "My parents got me an English tutor when I was very young. They said they wanted to make sure my future husband and I didn't have a language barrier, can you believe that?"

The boy was in disbelief, "That's a bit strange, isn't it? And maybe a bit old-fashioned. Besides you're still very young -"

"Just a little bit," she joked. "But they think it's never to young to start looking for prospects, I suppose."

"That's absolutely mental," Charlie said with a slight shake of his head.

"You know, Charlie, you might be the first English boy that I've met that I've actually gotten along with." Elaina spoke truthfully. "Most boys my parents introduce me to are so heavily invested in the business side of things."

"Yeah, well." Charlie said as he looked out the window once again. "I tend to despise my father's work."

Elaina smiled up in awe at the boy, "Well, it looks like we have something in common."

Charlie had snapped his head back in her direction - never before had he heard of someone within the Ministry that had thought the same way he had.

The girl blushed bashfully under the boy's gaze of admiration. Charlie was undoubtedly the first boy Elaina actually enjoyed talking to, but there was no denying that he also happened to be the most attractive.

"So -" Charlie said, trying to make conversation, but had suddenly gotten a bit nervous, "are you just in the city for the World Cup?"

"I'm not, but my parents are. I'm actually here with my school, Beauxbatons."

"Oh? How come?"

"No idea," Elaina laughed, "But maybe that means I'll be seeing more of you while I'm here?"

Charlie blushed slightly, "Yeah, of course - I mean, if you want to."

"Why wouldn't I want to?" she teased in a tone that made Charlie feel extremely guilty for no apparent reason.

"No idea," he mimicked playfully, not meaning anything too serious by it.

"Oh?" she raised a flirtatious brow, "Bit cocky, are you?"

Charlie laughed, "Maybe a little."

Elaina pursed her lips and spoke in a soft whisper, "Cockiness often leads to trouble, Charlie."

The brown eyed boy was taken aback at the sudden change in tone, but thankfully, the conversation ended there as Fenwick, Pierre, and Adeline had returned with glasses in their hands.

It was a miracle too, because the match was about to begin. However, Charlie felt weird not being able to watch the match with his friends. He needed to get out of this VIP box filled of stuck-up Ministry workers and flirtatious French girls as soon as possible.

So, when he noticed his father was in a very in-depth conversation with Pierre and Lucius Malfoy, and Elaina had been cornered by the blonde-haired Slytherin git's son, Charlie, quickly and quietly, slipped out of the room.

He knew where the Weasley's, Harry, and Hermione were going to be. So, he walked up a flight of stairs, and reached the top of the stadium. He opened the door slightly, and his friends' gazes had immediately landed on him to which Charlie smiled widely.

"Mind if I join you?"

--------------

"Ladies and gentlemen... welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"

The spectators screamed and clapped. Thousands of flags waved, adding their discordant national anthems to the racket. The huge blackboard opposite them was wiped clear of its last message, and now showed BULGARIA: 0, IRELAND: 0.

The team mascots had just been brought out. The crowd erupted into a loud roar as the Bulgarians were revealed to have brought out Veela. Charlie, like every other boy in the box, had his mind go a little numb as he took in the sight of the gorgeous, enchanted women. The only time he was able to pull his gaze off of them was when he received a harsh little nudge from someone beside him.

As he turned, he noticed Hermione staring out the box window with a scowl, not daring to look Charlie in the eyes. Before he could confront her about it however, the Irish team had brought out Leprechauns, of course, as their mascot.

Charlie watched them with a slight awe, but was still a little embarrassed that Hermione had caught him staring at the Veela. Nonetheless, after all the mascots had been introduced, Ludo Bagman finally brought out both teams.

"Theeeeeeeey're OFF!" screamed Bagman. "And it's Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!"

Harry, Charlie, and Ron had watched everything through a pair of Omnioculars; binoculars that were designed to magically slow down and replay action. However, everything was happening so quickly that it was hard to keep up. Before they even knew it, Ireland were leading by a landslide.

"Look at Lynch!" Harry yelled.

For the Irish Seeker had suddenly gone into a dive, and it looked as though he had been thrown from a plane without a parachute.

"He's seen the Snitch!" Harry shouted. "He's seen it! Look at him go!"

Half the crowd seemed to have realized what was happening; the Irish supporters rose in another great wave of green, screaming their Seeker on... but Krum was on his tail. How he could see where he was going, Charlie had no idea; there were flecks of blood flying through the air behind him, but he was drawing level with Lynch now as the pair of them hurtled toward the ground again -

"They're going to crash!" shrieked Hermione.

"They're not!" roared Ron.

"Definitely looks like it!" screamed Charlie.

"Oh, Lynch definitely is!" yelled Harry.

And he was right - as for the second time that game, Lynch hit the ground with tremendous force and was immediately stampeded by a horde of angry veela.

"The Snitch! Where's the Snitch?" bellowed Charlie, along the row.

"He's got it - Krum's got it - it's all over!" shouted Harry.

Krum, his red robes shining with blood from his nose, was rising gently into the air, his fist held high, a glint of gold in his hand.

The scoreboard was flashing BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170 across the crowd, who didn't seem to have realized what had happened. Then, slowly, as though a great jumbo jet were revving up, the rumbling from the Ireland supporters grew louder and louder and erupted into screams of delight.

"IRELAND WINS!" Bagman shouted, 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!"

"We did!" Fred, George, and Charlie shouted together before falling into a fit of laughter.

"What did he catch the Snitch for?" Ron bellowed, even as he jumped up and down, applauding with his hands over his head. "He ended it when Ireland were a hundred and sixty points ahead!"

"He knew they were never going to catch up!" Harry shouted back over all the noise, also applauding loudly. "The Irish Chasers were too good... He wanted to end it on his terms, that's all."

"He was very brave, wasn't he?" Hermione said, leaning forward to watch Krum land as a swarm of mediwizards blasted a path through the battling leprechauns and veela to get to him. "He looks a terrible mess..."

"Who cares?" muttered Charlie from the ground, where Fred and George has tackled him out of excitement, "Ireland wins! Krum catches the Snitch, but Ireland wins! We're fifty Galleons richer!"

--------------

"Don't tell your mother you've been gambling," Mr. Weasley implored Fred and George as they all made their 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.

They were soon caught up in the crowds now flooding out of the stadium and back to their campsites. Raucous singing was borne toward them on 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.

As they were walking back to the tent, Charlie had came to a halt as a familiar voice had been calling his name over the loud Irish fans.

When the boy turned, so did Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Fred and George, out of simple instinct, while Mr. Weasley, Percy, Bill, and Jack kept walking.

Charlie's eyes instantly focused on where the voice was coming from and spotted Elaina Dumont, walking towards him with a group of, Charlie assumed to be, friends from Beauxbatons.

"Woah," Ron muttered, taking in the sight of the beautiful French girls, but Ginny quickly slapped him to shut him up.

Hermione watched Charlie with a raised brow as he moved to meet the French girl halfway, which was out of earshot, so she couldn't eavesdrop on the conversation.

"Hey Elaina," he smiled, "Sorry, I left you hanging back there but -"

"You wanted to watch the match with your friends," she finished, peering over his shoulder slightly and giving them a little wave. "Don't worry about it, I understand. I hope you enjoyed the match."

Charlie nodded, "I did."

"I'm glad," Elaina said sweetly. "I'm happyI ran into you again, I wanted to say goodbye. And - uh - say that I really hope I get to see you again."

"I hope so too," the boy said with a polite smile as she turned to walk away.

However, as soon as Elaina was about to reunite with her friends, she turned on her heel, walked back over to Charlie, and leaned up to give him a peck on the cheek.

As she pulled away, she whispered, "I like trouble."

Then, she finally walked away, leaving Charlie standing there, absolutely dumbfounded - he was not expecting that. He watched her leave with a curious gaze that was only broken when Fred and George has started whistling behind him.

"Oi! Charlie's got himself a girlfriend!"

"Who would've thought?!"

"Charming Charlie has pulled himself a bird!"

"It's a miracle!"

The brown eyed boy turned around, embarrassed, to see Harry, Ron, Fred and George smiling widely up at him, supporting him, like brothers do. However, as his eyes shifted towards Ginny and Hermione, his heart sank into his stomach. The young ginger witch was looking absolutely furious, while the bushy haired girl had a simple frown on her face, her eyes filled with so much sadness.

Charlie moved forward towards Hermione, wanting to explain, but she shook her head and stormed off. This earned a bunch of ooooooo's from Fred and George, but Harry couldn't help but feel guilty while Ron sat there utterly confused as to why Hermione cared so much.

Again, the brown eyed boy in question took a step forward to follow after her, but this time Ginny had grabbed his arm.

"You're such a prat, you know that?"

Charlie was taken aback slightly, but nonetheless, shook Ginny off, and chased after Hermione, much to everyone's protests.

"Hermione!"

The bushy haired girl just kept walking faster, so Charlie went into a full on sprint to then stopped in front of her, and held her still from moving forward.

"Leave me alone, Charlie," she snapped, shrugging his arms off of her. "Go run after the French daft bimbo for all I care."

"Look," he began, but hesitated for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. "she's the daughter of one of my father's business partners, that's all!"

Hermione raised a furious brow, "That certainly didn't look like that was all that was!"

"Hermione -"

"No," she dismissed him quickly as she continued to walk past him, "You don't get to just charm your way out of this one."

"Merlin's beard!" Charlie groaned before running after her again, "Would you just listen?"

To his surprise, Hermione had stopped moving. Instead of yelling at him, which he expected, she raised a brow which urged him to continue.

"Her name is Elaina Dumont, she's the daughter of the Minister of Magic in France." He explained softly, "My father had practically told me to occupy her while he and her parents discussed business - it wasn't my choice. We got to talking, and yeah, maybe she was a little flirty" - Hermione rolled her eyes and tried to walk away again, but Charlie held her still - "but it was one-sided! Which is why I was just as confused about what happened as you were! Please believe me, I wasn't expecting that! Nor would I have wanted that to happen the way it did! I wouldn't do that, especially not in front of you, and certainly not after everything that has happened between us!"

Hermione's ears had suddenly perked up and, for the first time, she met his gaze. The cross expression on her face had disappeared, and suddenly, she fell victim to his kind eyes, even though she fought hard not to.

"Oh..." she said, softly.

The boy realized he probably said to much, and a blush had appeared on his face out of embarrassment, "Yeah - oh."

Then, as if on cue, Ginny and the rest of the group had finally caught up to them. The young ginger witch kept glaring at Charlie as she pulled Hermione towards the tent, without saying a word. As they disappeared, the brown eyed boy turned towards Fred, George, Harry, and Ron, who all, simultaneously, shrugged - no matter how hard they tried, boys would never be able to understand girls.

----------------

A short while later, all the kids and Mr. Weasley lie awake, unable to sleep as they tried to re-live the action from the match.

"Brilliant Krum, wasn't he?" Ron bellowed, standing up on the table, "He's like a bird the way he rides the wind! He's more than an athlete! He's an artist!"

Fred and George has pranced around, waving the Irish flag about, and mimicking their brother, "Krum?! Krum?! DUMB KRUM?!"

Charlie laughed from his spot leaning up against the post next to Harry, "I think you're in love, Ron."

"Oh, quiet, you!"

Fred joked in a sing-song, "VIKTOR, I LOVE YOU!"

"VIKTOR, I DOOOOO!" George laughed after chiming in.

Harry and Charlie shared a glance before joining Fred and George in their awkward dance. Ginny and Hermione laughed watching from their section of the tent.

"WHEN WE'RE APART, MY HEART BEATS ONLY FOR YOUUUUUU!"

Just then, a chant of voices rose like a lion's roar beyond the tent, causing Arthur to look up curiously to which Charlie stopped dancing and furrowed his brows.

Fred grinned, "Looks like the Irish have got their pride on!"

Arthur gulped, "That's not the Irish."

The noises in the campsite had changed. The singing had stopped. There were screams heard in the distance, along with the sound of people running.

Mr. Weasley took out his wand, "Children, grab your jackets and get outside, now! Quickly!"

The kids did as they were told and instantly hurried out of the tent in a panic.

By the light of the few fires that were still burning, Charlie could see people running away into the woods, fleeing something that was moving across the field toward them, something that was emitting odd flashes of light and noises like gunfire. 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 slowly across the field. Charlie squinted at them... They didn't seem to have faces... Then he realized that their heads were hooded and their faces masked. High above them, 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.

"Who are those people?" asked Ginny in a frightened tone, "In the air?"

Arthur sighed, "Muggles."

Charlie's heart sank as he heard a whimper escape Hermione's lips, "And the people on the ground?"

The brown eyed boy gulped and spoke softly, being mindful of upsetting the girl further, "Death Eaters."

"No!" Arthur waved the idea off, "Get back to the Portkey, all of you! And stick together! Fred and George, you are responsible for Ginny!"

"C'mon," said Fred, grabbing Ginny's hand and starting to pull her toward the wood.

Harry, Charlie, Ron, Hermione, and George followed while Mr. Weasley, Percy, Bill, and Jack had gone to see if they could help. They all looked back as they reached the trees. They could see the Ministry wizards trying to get through to the hooded wizards in the center, but they were having great difficulty.

A rustling noise nearby made all four of them jump. Winky the house-elf was fighting her way out of a clump of bushes nearby. She was moving in a most peculiar fashion, apparently with great difficulty; it was as though someone invisible were trying to hold her back.

"There is bad wizards about!" she squeaked distractedly as she leaned forward and labored to keep running. "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 up with her?" said Ron, looking curiously after the house-elf. "Why can't she run properly?"

"Bet she didn't ask permission to hide," said Charlie, sadly.

"You know, house-elves get a very raw deal!" said Hermione indignantly. "It's slavery, that's what it is! Why doesn't anyone do something about it?"

"Well, the elves are happy, aren't they?" Ron said simply.

"It's people like you, Ron," Hermione began hotly, "who prop up rotten and unjust systems, just because they're too lazy to -"

"Guys," Harry groaned, "can we do this another time -"

Another loud bang echoed from the edge of the wood which made the boy trail off.

"Let's just keep moving, shall we?" said Ron, and Harry and Charlie saw him glance edgily at Hermione.

They walked a little deeper into the woods, losing sight of Fred, George, and Ginny, who had been lost in the crowd in front of them. When they got to a far point away from the camp sight, the four of them sat in a secure part of the forest and waited, disregarding the Portkey at the moment.

"Those poor Muggles, though," said Hermione nervously. "What if they can't get them down?"

"They will," said Charlie reassuringly and sent a soft smile in the girl's direction. "They'll find a way."

"Mad, though, to do something like that when the whole Ministry of Magic's out here tonight!" said Ron, slightly aghast. "I mean, how do they expect to get away with it? Do you think they've been drinking, or are they just -"

But he broke off abruptly and looked over his shoulder. Harry, Charlie and Hermione looked quickly around too. It sounded as though someone was staggering toward their clearing. They waited, listening to the sounds of the uneven steps behind the dark trees, but the footsteps came to a sudden halt.

"Hello?" called Harry.

There was silence. Charlie got to his feet and peered around the tree. It was too dark to see very far, but he could sense somebody standing just beyond the range of his vision.

"Who's there?" he said.

And then, without warning, the silence was rent by a voice unlike any they had heard in the wood; and it uttered, not a panicked shout, but what sounded like a spell.

"MORSMORDRE!"

And something vast, green, and glittering erupted from the patch of darkness all of their eyes had been struggling to penetrate; it flew up over the treetops and into the sky.

"What the - ?" gasped Ron as he sprang to his feet again, staring up at the thing that had appeared.

Charlie's eyes widened as he looked up the sky and spotted a colossal skull, comprised of what looked like emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. As they watched, it rose higher and higher, blazing in a haze of greenish smoke, etched against the black sky like a new constellation.

Suddenly, the wood all around them erupted with screams. Harry didn't understand why, but the only possible cause was the sudden appearance of the skull, which had now risen high enough to illuminate the entire wood like some grisly neon sign. Charlie scanned the darkness for the person who had conjured the skull, but he couldn't see anyone.

"Who's there?" Harry called again.

Charlie shook his head, "We've got to move. Right now."

"Harry, come on!" Hermione had seized the collar of his jacket and was tugging him backward.

"What's the matter?" Harry said, startled to see her face so white and terrified.

"It's the Dark Mark, Harry!" Hermione moaned, pulling him as hard as she could. "You-Know-Who's Mark!"

"Voldemort's - ?"

"Harry, come on!"

Harry turned and ran alongside Ron, while Charlie had reached out for Hermione's hand and pulled her forward. The four of them started across the clearing - but before they had taken a few hurried steps, a series of popping noises announced the arrival of twenty wizards, appearing from thin air, surrounding them.

Charlie whirled around, and in an instant, he registered one fact; each of these wizards had their wand out, and every wand was pointing right at himself, Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

Without pausing to think, he yelled, "DUCK!"

He seized the other three and pulled them down onto the ground.

"STUPEFY!" roared twenty voices - there was a blinding series of flashes and Charlie felt the hair on his head ripple as though a powerful wind had swept the clearing. Raising his head a fraction of an inch he saw jets of fiery red light flying over them from the wizards' wands, crossing one another, bouncing off tree trunks, rebounding into the darkness -

"Stop!" yelled a voice he recognized. "STOP! That's my son!"

The four of them raised their heads a little higher. The wizard in front of them had lowered his wand. Charlie rolled over in relief and saw Mr. Weasley striding toward them, looking terrified.

"Ron - Harry" - his voice sounded shaky - "Charlie - Hermione - are you all right?"

"Out of the way, Arthur," said the cold, curt voice of Mr. Barty Crouch.

He and the other Ministry wizards were closing in on them. Harry, Charlie, Hermione, and Ron got to their feet to face them, Mr. Crouch's face was taut with rage.

"Which of you did it?" he snapped, his sharp eyes darting between them. "Which of you conjured the Dark Mark?"

"We didn't do that!" said Harry, gesturing up at the skull.

"We didn't do anything!" said Ron, who was rubbing his elbow and looking indignantly at his father.

"Are you mad?" Charlie said, slightly aghast. "You can't seriously believe -"

"Do not lie, Charles!" shouted Mr. Crouch. His wand was still pointing directly at Charlie, and his eyes were popping - he looked mad. "You have been discovered at the scene of the crime!"

"Barty," whispered a witch in a long woolen dressing gown, "they're kids, Barty, they'd never have been able to -"

"We are quite obviously too late," said the bone-chilling voice of Fenwick Hawthorne as he had strangely emerged from the trees. "They'll have Disapparated by now."

"I don't think so," said Amos Diggory, Cedric's father. "Our Stunners went right through those trees... There's a good chance we got them..."

"Amos, be careful!" said a few of the wizards warningly as Mr. Diggory squared his shoulders, raised his wand, marched across the clearing, and disappeared into the darkness. Hermione watched him vanish with her hands over her mouth.

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?" shouted Fenwick, sounding highly disbelieving and slightly confused. "Who? Who is it?"

"Bit embarrassing," Mr. Diggory said grimly, looking down at the creature's unconscious form. "It's your house-elf, Barty..."

Charlie furrowed his brows, "Winky? Seriously?"

"Come off it, Amos," said Mr. Weasley quietly, "you don't seriously think it was the elf? The Dark Mark's a wizard's sign. It requires a wand."

"Yeah," said Mr. Diggory, "and she had a wand, look."

Upon lifting it in the air for the crowd to see, Charlie, Hermione, Ron, and Harry had recognized it instantly.

"Hey - that's mine!"

Everyone in the clearing looked towards the voice.

"Excuse me?" said Mr. Diggory, incredulously.

"That's my wand!" said Harry, looking at the wand curiously. "I must've dropped it."

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Author's Note:
*this chapter was not proof read*

So... would it be cool if I asked you how y'all feel about Elaina, or is that too soon...?

Anyways! Don't hate me! Hope you enjoyed ❤️

Much love to you all, until next time!

xo, Selena