Disclaimer: I still own zilch

Chapter Two

“Quick, get up! Get up! Ron – Harry – you need to get up now!””

Harry, sleeping in the top bunk, sat up at once, the top of his head grazing the canvas material of the tent while Ron remained groggy. “What’s going on, Dad?”

But it soon became obvious what was wrong. Gone were the enthusiastic celebrations and cheers from the exuberant Irish supporters. The sounds of out of tune singing were gone. Replacing the festivities were screams and the clattering of rushing footsteps as if a stampede was close by.

There was no time to get changed as Mr Weasley hurried them out of tent with their jackets in hand, the twins at their heels. Hermione and Ginny came rushing out of their tent soon after, quickly pulling on coats. Simultaneously Percy, Charlie and Bill emerged, their tousled appearances highlighting the quickness of their change of clothes.

Mr Weasley and his three eldest children all had their sleeves rolled up with wands in hand. The Weasley patriarch turned towards his younger children and Harry and Hermione. “You lot – get into the woods, and stick together,” he ordered. “I’ll come fetch you when we’ve sorted this out!”

That said, he turned and ran after his oldest children who had already started sprinting towards a crowd of oncoming marchers.

Flashes of light darted across the field, illuminating a scene of frenzied confusion. The smell of smoke and burning imbued the air as tents sunk to the ground in a cascade of fire. Drunken laughter rose from people unseen. Loud jeers and shrieks drifted towards them. Ever pervading, though, was the sound of feet marching as figures, their faces disguised with masks, stomped through the tent-filled pasture firing out spells.

Above the tightly packed crowd floated four figures. Figures that Harry quickly recognised as Mr Roberts, the campsite manager, and what he presumed was his family. The airborne family were flailing about, struggling to control their movements. But they were no match for the wizards’ magic as their bodies were contorted into grotesque shapes to the amusement of the growing crowd.

“C’mon,” said Fred, distracting Harry from the nauseating scene. That people could find that funny...

And then they were off, dashing through the myriads of smoke. Harry kept his eyes focused on the ground, trying to avoid any tent pegs, while still attempting to follow Fred through the shroud of darkness as they headed towards the shelter of the wood.

It seemed many had the same idea. Dark figures knocked the group as they stumbled through the trees. Nearby Harry could hear the sounds of young children crying out accompanied by the shushing voices of the parents. Panicked shouts in a spectrum of languages reverberated as people searched frantically for their friends.

Harry was grateful when the twins stopped in a small clearing. He had a stitch in his side and leaned heavily against a tree, catching his breath back in huge gasps. He couldn’t help but think, most irrelevantly, that Hogwarts had made him lazy; during primary school he could have run a lot further without getting out of breath as he tried to outrun Dudley’s gang.

“Thought we’d stop for a breather,” wheezed an equally out of breath Fred. Him and George were supporting each other while Ginny had semi-collapsed onto the floor after being forced to keep up with her twin brothers.

“What – are – we – going – to – do?” panted a winded Hermione as she struggled to catch her breath. Her face had become red and blotchy from the exertion and her hair was bushier than ever.

“Can’t we help?” Harry wondered aloud, remembering the terrified faces of those poor Muggles.

“No way!” George sounded the most serious Harry had ever heard him. “Dad told us to wait here and that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

“Still, what they’re doing to those Muggles...”

“It’s sick.” Ron was clearly just as disgusted as Harry.

“Who were they?” asked Harry. “Those wizards wearing the masks. The ones who...”

Hermione, like usual, fielded the question. “Death Eaters,” she announced quietly. “It’s what You Know Who’s supporters used to wear. The cowards can’t even bear to show their faces!” Disgust dripped from her voice.

Harry couldn’t dwell on this new titbit of information as a scream of terror rang through the forest in nearby proximity. Each of them tensed, glancing between each other with wide eyes. What was going on? Had the Death Eaters started towards the woods? A thousand thoughts swirled through Harry’s head as he considered what that scream might portend.

Another scream tore through the air and with it came other sounds: a child weeping, a woman’s begging and the mocking laughter of a man. A jeering suggestion was loud enough to be overheard: “Let’s see what other filth is hiding in the trees.”

Hermione’s panicked eyes leaped to his. Each of them tightened their grasp on their wands.

The sound of footfalls was approaching. Closer and closer...

Harry thought over his three years of schooling. He didn’t know how to fight. What spells did he even know? What curses could he remember? He thought back to the shortly lived Duelling Club. Well, he could cast the Disarming Charm and he knew a few hexes but, while enough to put Malfoy in his place, he couldn’t see them as being effective against an adult wizard. He didn’t know enough. Not nearly enough to defend himself. His mouth went dry with nerves. He didn’t even know how to duel.

A stream of light illuminated where they stood, showing Harry the twins’ pale faces. One of them gulped and Harry realised that the twins were just as scared as him, just as unprepared. They were all still kids.

 But you were only eleven when you fended off Voldemort, a voice in the back of his mind reminded him. But that hadn’t been him; that had been his mother’s protection. And what about the Basilisk... you were only twelve, then... But Fawkes had helped, he quickly refuted. And he’d been lucky; more than lucky. But it was only a few months ago when you faced all those Dementors; that was all you...

No one was saying anything. The sound of footsteps rustling through woodland was coming closer. They were all standing in easy view. Easy targets to be picked off...

“Right,” muttered Harry, drawing a deep breath. “Hermione, hide behind that tree and stay down low,” he ordered, trying to make as little sound as possible. Noticing how the white of her nightdress showed beneath the coat he directed her to button up her brown jacket as much as possible.

Seeing Harry’s determined face stifled any possible disagreement. Hermione quickly moved out of view.

Harry looked up at the sky. There was a large canopy of leaves blocking out much of the moon’s light. “Ron, how’s your climbing ability?”

Working quickly, Harry commanded everyone into position: Ron was mid-way up a tree and was easy to spot, but only if someone looked up; Ginny was mostly hidden behind a shrub, lying fully on the ground with no complaints; the twins were crouching behind the thick trunks of two trees. Harry himself had taken up a position near the opening of the clearing, just opposite from Hermione’s position and nearest to Ginny, who he felt was the most vulnerable of the group with only two years of schooling. They weren’t the best hiding places in the world, but Harry was short of time and it was better than standing out in the open.

He’d quickly outlined a plan. The hiding places wouldn’t last under any form of scrutiny; they would have to fight, or at least try to. Surprise was their best option and Harry hoped it would be enough.

He listened closely to the footsteps closing in on them. More than two, he guessed, but less than five. It was hard to make an accurate guess with his heart pumping so loudly that he was sure it would give him away.

Seconds ticked away. Harry’s knees were starting to go numb from the cold. He prayed the Death Eater wouldn’t come this way, that they would take another turning. He prayed that the Ministry wizards would protect them.

He was the first one to catch sight of a piece of dark material. His heart leapt into his throat and he had to stop himself from the urge to swipe his sweaty hair from his forehead where it clung.

The dark clad figures trod closer. There were three of them, Harry counted. A one to two ratio, but that hardly mattered with magic.

They were entering the clearing now. Harry was waiting until they got into the middle, where they could be hit on all sides. Just a few steps-

“Somne!” Damn! Hermione had panicked and acted too soon. One of the wizards fell down in a dead faint.

The advantage of surprise was gone now. “Expelliarmus!”

He wasn’t the only one to yell it, but the three red beams had no effect except to rid the dozing wizard of his wand; the two other wizards were aware of them and had shields up. And now they knew where four of them were. Time to change position.

A beam of deep blue whooshed out of one of the masked wizard’s wand, hitting the place where Harry had been only moments before. The shrub that had previously covered him exploded into flames.

Harry tried to think as streams of coloured light flew in the air around him. He thought he saw one of the twins get hit by a nasty yellow curse and hoped it wasn’t serious. Opposite him Hermione, for all her knowledge, seemed to only be casting the same sleeping spell to no effect.

Now everyone except Ron had been cursed out of their hiding places. They were all in plain view. “Fumos!” cried Harry before rolling out the way to dodge an oncoming green spell.

The spell had the desired effect. The clearing was now thick with smoke. Harry used the smog as a cover to rush over to where Hermione was.

“It’s me,” he quickly reassured her as he found himself confronted with a shaky wand to his neck. “I need you to cast the brightest light spell you know as soon as the fog clears, OK?”

He felt more than saw Hermione nod.

He could just make out spell fire through the dense smoke. It was impossible to tell who was firing what, though he could usually tell who was shouting the incantations. The masked wizards were silent with their casting, though, and in a moment of insight Harry realised that bellowing out the curses was stupidity at its worst: the masked wizards knew what they were defending themselves against and could easily pinpoint their location.

“Serpensortia!” he muttered as quietly as possible. Harry had never tried the spell before but he could remember the wand movements with the clarity one only gets with bad memories. He was slightly surprised but extremely relieved when a long, venomous-looking snake appeared on the forest floor.

Hoping that this would work, Harry faced the rearing snake. “Attack the masked wizards,” he ordered in the snake-tongue.

Watching the snake disappear into the thick smoke, Harry returned to casting every curse and hex he could remember. He constantly had to remind himself not to shout out the spell for all the world to hear.

The smoke was quickly starting to dissipate now. But Harry was happy to hear unfamiliar cries of fear emanate from the middle of the clearing; his snake had distracted the wizards. The reptile had unhinged them enough that one of the wizards was now pronouncing his spells. “Expulso! Expulso!” he cried before the other Death Eater, realising what was going on, got rid of the snake: “Vipera Evanesca!”

Knowing that the masked wizards’ distraction was coming to an end, Harry nudged Hermione and quickly shut his eyes and turned his head away from the middle of the clearing.

“Lumos solem!” Bright light flooded the clearing, blinding everyone who looked at it with its intensity.

Taking advantage of the situation, Harry turned back towards the clearing. “Everte Statum!” The bolt of orange light flashed through the air. It hit one of the Death Eaters square on flinging him backwards into a tree and into unconsciousness. Two down and one to go.

Harry turned to face the last conscious Death Eater, only to quickly duck out of the way as a red spell hurtled towards him. Harry instinctively knew that this last wizard was the smartest, if not the most powerful, of the three.

Thinking of his happiest thought, Harry pointed the wand at the darkly clothed figure. “Expecto Patronum!” This time he did shout out the spell, hoping to add to the distraction to find some shelter.

Prongs dashed out of his wand and charged at the surprised Death Eater. The lapse in concentration was enough for Harry to quickly scuttle away behind a tree, only to find Ginny already there. She smiled tightly at him which Harry tried to return only he had the feeling it was more of a grimace.

“You OK?” he asked, noticing her ragged appearance. His own clothes were covered in mud and slightly singed.

“Been better, but I’m alright,” she answered in a bare mutter.

Harry listened closely to the surroundings, trying to figure out what was going on. From the rustling of leaves and Ron’s voice screaming out spells, Harry surmised that the wizard was focusing his attention on knocking the youngest male Weasley out of his tree.

Getting his heavy breathing under control, Harry tried to think of a plan of action. The wizard’s shield blocked all their magical attacks and only physical spells or all encompassing ones, like Lumos Solem, seemed to affect the wizard. Think, Harry, think, he berated himself. But his mind remained blank. Maybe if he barraged the wizard with curses the shield would fall...

Unable to come up with anything more inspired he peered out at the scene from behind his tree – only to quickly whip his head back as a red spell whizzed past hitting a tree a few metres behind them. The explosion following the collision was huge, and Harry placed himself directly behind Ginny to cover her from the worst of the extreme heat.

Seconds later the tree gave a mighty lurch and started to tilt forward. The bit of the trunk where the spell had hit was nigh on obliterated. The tree was hanging by a thread.

Inspiration hit. “Ginny,” he whispered. “I need you to send as many of your Bat-Bogey Hexes to cover me. Can you do that for me?”

In the remaining glow of the explosion, Harry could make out her shaky nod. Her face was pale and clammy but filled with determination. He hoped she was able to cope.

Taking a deep breath, Harry prayed Ron would remember and help out.

“Diffindo!” The Severing Charm emerged from his wand with a quiet whoosh as it sliced through the air. His aim was true as the last remaining tether rooting the trunk to the ground was severed. The main body of the tree careened forward with a resounding groan.

Timing was everything. “Wingardium Leviosa!” The first charm Harry had ever learnt intercepted the falling tree and lifted it back into the air. Having never used the charm on so large an object, Harry found the process draining in a way he couldn’t describe, as though he had run a marathon without moving from the spot.

He directed the remains of the tree towards the clearing. His concentration was such that he couldn’t tell if Ginny was hexing yet or not. He raised the tree higher, hoping the Death Eater wouldn’t notice as quickly.

Suddenly, the ‘weight’ of the tree was lifted somewhat. Ron had twigged what he was doing from his high vantage point.

The sharing of the tree’s burden allowed Harry to take stock of the situation. Only one of the twins was firing any spells. Hermione was nowhere in sight, though neither was the most recently knocked out Death Eater; a matter that concerned Harry deeply. Ron was still in his tree, though both he and the tree looked more than a little worse for wear. And nearby Ginny was firing her trademark spell at a constant speed while quickly dodging any retaliatory spells sent her way.

The tree was in range of the masked foe now. The Death Eater appeared none the wiser to the aerial assault.

Time seemed to slow down, then. The remaining Death Eater had decided to employ the same tactic Harry had used earlier and flooded Ginny’s position with intense light, rendering her blind. It was pure luck that Harry shut his eyes in time. His concentration was shattered now and the tree’s burden was all on Ron. Ginny was staggering around, her eyes blinking rapidly and it was impossible for her to see the bolt of pink light coming towards her, let alone dodge it. Harry rushed at her, tackling her to the ground and taking the spell in her stead.

A moment later, Harry heard a pop followed by the crunch of a falling tree. Turning to look he saw the remains of the levitated tree taking pride of place in the middle of the clearing. The Death Eater was nowhere to be seen.

“Are you OK?” Harry asked Ginny who was still having trouble seeing if the continual blinking was anything to go by.

“Think so,” came her breathless reply as she struggled to her feet, only to sit back down again from dizziness.

“Harry!” Hermione’s scream precipitated the rest of the Weasleys and Hermione rushing towards him. He was glad to see his best female friend was mostly unhurt as she dragged one of the unconscious attackers with her to where Harry lay.

The other Death Eater was still asleep. His quiet snores were just loud enough to be heard.

Dragging himself into a sitting position, Harry focused on his friends. Ron’s face was slightly cut up and his coat was barely existent, most of it being burnt away. He quickly realised when Ron asked in a much louder than normal volume whether he was alright that something was affecting his hearing. Thankfully a quick “Finite!” from Hermione was enough to reverse the spell.

Fred was the worst for wear out of everyone as George laughingly introduced his twin with a new nickname: Fingerless Fred. “Finger-Removing Jinx,” Fred explained looking nonplussed. “I collected the fingers,” he said, holding up four fingers with his intact left hand. “Now I know what Goodwin Kneen had to go through,” he joked.

“That’s hardly funny,” commented Hermione with a distasteful look. She had a few superficial scratches to the face and a collection of leaves had taken up residence in her bushy hair.

George looked rather singed while his left arm was floppy by his side. “They did a Lockhart on me,” he grinned and Harry understood that all the bones in his arm had been vanished. He also seemed to have a large cut near the top of his forehead.

Ginny looked as though she’d come out rather unscathed from the whole thing. Her red hair was filled with leaves and dirt and her pyjamas would need a good clean, but she looked unharmed and completely intact.

“But what about you, Harry? What about that last curse?” Hermione asked in concern.

Harry shrugged. “Dunno. I don’t feel any different, well, maybe a little warm, but that probably from all the excitement.” His back also stung from the burns sustained by the heat of the exploding tree, but the adrenaline dulled the pain. “It was probably nothing,” he dismissed, getting to his feet with extreme effort. His whole body felt exhausted and he yearned for a soft bed.

“What are we going to do with them?” Ron asked, nodding to where the unconscious Death Eaters lay.

“We ought –” Fred’s voice stopped suddenly and Harry wondered why until he heard it. The sound of footsteps. For the second time that night, all of them tensed.

“I don’t understand why Auntie Tarpeia wouldn’t allow me to help. It’s not as though I don’t know how to duel. I’m top of my year, for Merlin’s sake!” The petulant voice carried over to them. The voice sounded young but Harry still clung to his wand. Better safe than sorry.

“Because,” came the long-suffering voice of a young girl, “you’re not of age and you’re supposed to be looking after me. You know – your sister who you hardly see for most of the year.”

“And I thank Merlin for it. What the-?”

A boy and a girl appeared at the entrance to the clearing. The boy was tall and looked about the same age as Fred and George. The girl was about the same height as Hermione. They were both fair-haired and held themselves with an offhand grace that bespoke of years of etiquette training.

They gazed around the clearing, the quickly dying glow of a burning shrub revealing their wide eyes as they took in the combat zone. It was obvious when they spotted Harry and his friends; their wands became outstretched and the boy slid into a duelling pose, turning his body sideways to reduce target area.

“Who are you?” questioned George.

“The more important question is who are you?” The boy’s disdainful voice rang out as he focused his wand at George.

“For Merlin’s sake, Edmund, they’re the same age as us,” the as yet unnamed girl rebuked.

Edmund’s face twisted into a scowl as he glanced at his sister. “Appearances,” he said tightly, “can be deceiving.”

“Oh, give it a rest,” she scorned and turned towards Harry and his friends. “I’m Lucretia and this is my brother, Edmund,” she introduced. “We don’t mean you any harm if you don’t mean us any.”

Harry and his friends glanced between each other. Harry nodded at George, but still kept hold of his wand. He felt a bit dizzy but ignored it as George introduced them one by one.

“We were attacked by some Death Eaters,” explained Hermione. She pointed towards the unconscious adults with her wand.

As Hermione explained the situation, Harry removed what remained of his jacket. He was still feeling hot and the dizziness... Trying to step forward he lost all sense of equilibrium and fell over onto the ground.

“What’s wrong with him?” scorned Edmund and Harry, whose eyes had drifted shut on their own accord, knew exactly who he was referring to. But every movement seemed to make him dizzier and he couldn’t bring himself to care about what this Draco Malfoy wannabe thought of him.

“He was hit by a spell, but we don’t know what it was,” admitted Hermione. “He seemed OK, but...” she trailed off worriedly.

“Let me look at him. I know a few healing charms.” And suddenly the girl, Lucretia, was bending over him and feeling his sweaty forehead.

She was pretty, Harry distantly noted through half-open eyes. Her long fair hair encircled her face like a halo. He couldn’t make out the eye colour but guessed at blue. Blue was such a pretty colour.

“Don’t worry about me,” Harry told her, his voice not sounding as strong as he would have liked. “I’ve had much worse than this. Basilisk venom’s much worse, but then Fawkes was there to save me.” Glimpsing her frowning face and confusing it with fear, Harry reassured her. “Don’t worry, I killed it. The Basilisk, that is... Used the sword of Gryffindor.” He attempting to lift his arm to re-enact the stabbing motion but couldn’t manage it; his arms felt like lead and were refusing to cooperate.

“He’s clearly delusional,” he heard her announce and wanted to protest. “And he’s running a fever and can’t seem to use his ligaments.”

“Dizzy, too,” he told her weakly. “So dizzy. Why so dizzy?”

“Do any of you know what sort of spell hit him?” She had turned her head to look at the others.

There was some discussion, but it was getting harder to keep focus. Hermione was saying red light, but it wasn’t red. Not red at all.

“Pink,” he managed to force out. “Pink bolt... and slow... Slow spell.”

“Are you sure? It’s Harry, isn’t it?” He managed a small nod and then wished he hadn’t when the dizziness struck again. “Are you absolutely positive it was pink, not red?”

“Pink,” he mumbled.

Lucinda... Lucretia... whatever her name was, was peering down at him with pity. How he hated pity. “I think I know what curse is affecting him,” she revealed. Her voice was soft and filled with sympathy.

When she didn’t say anything more, Hermione stepped in. “Well?” she prompted.

“The Blood-Boiling Curse,” she announced. “He has all the symptoms and its spell colour is pink. A bolt of pink that’s rather slow.”

He heard Ron’s voice from nearby. His voice was laden with suspicion. “And how would you know that? That’s part of the Dark Arts, that is.”

“I’ve seen it before,” came the affronted response. “At school,” she clarified.

“And what sort of school condones the use of the Dark Arts?” Fred’s normally jovial voice was also filled with distrust.

“Durmstrang.”

Harry had never heard of it. But maybe his hearing was going, too. It was so difficult to concentrate. And he was so exhausted.

“So An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe was correct in-”

“Hermione,” warned Ron. “This really isn’t the time.”

It was so difficult to stay awake. It couldn’t be too bad if he just drifted off... Just for a moment. He was so hot, too. So very hot. But it was summer, wasn’t it. Summer, but soon Hogwarts... He couldn’t keep his eyes open. He didn’t want to...

“What’s that?” Ginny’s shout jolted him awake.

He strained to open his eyes. He wanted to know what was going on. And why was he moving?

He realised he was being levitated. It was a decidedly odd experience, laying on nothing but a blanket of air.

He tried his level best to open his eyes but only managed to squint. Ginny was pointing at something. An orange haze in the distance. So pretty...

“Oh dear Merlin!” That was the voice of the Malfoy wannabe. Horrified. He sounded horrified.

Hermione’s voice, then. “What is it?”

Malfoy wannabe again: “How could someone be so foolish!”

Then the girl. The pretty one with a halo for hair. “Fiendfyre,” she pronounced softly. Urgency gripped her voice. “We need to get out of here.”

Fiendfyre... That was a funny name. Harry dazedly wondered what it was and why the girl sounded so panicked.

“We can’t make it in time! It’s coming straight for us; the wind’s blowing it straight at us!”

“Point Me!” It was the girl’s voice once again. “Notus flarat!” Then a pause. “That will buy us some time, but we should leave the Death Eaters behind. They’ll only slow us down and he desperately needs a healer.”

“But...” Hermione’s voice trailed off.

“Do you have a better idea?”

“She’s right,” acknowledged one of the twins. But he didn’t sound too happy about it. “It’s the only way we’ll make it out of here.”

Harry heard Hermione’s voice protest. “But that’s condemning them to death.”

“If we don’t, we all die. Or is that what you would prefer?” Edmund had lost his petulant tone and sounded extremely serious.

Harry didn’t hear anymore of the conversation. He slipped back into blissful unconsciousness, drowning out Ron’s encouragements and Ginny’s repeated apologies. He just wanted to sleep and never wake up.

After that Harry didn’t remember anything. He had to rely on Hermione and Ron to recount the quick dash out of the woods and how they had managed to find a Ministry worker who had realised the seriousness of Harry’s condition and side-along apparated him to St. Mungos to be treated. Apparently, it was a minor miracle that he had survived. Something Harry had scoffed at until a nearby healer had lectured him on the seriousness of the situation.

The others had searched around for Mr Weasley while Lucretia and Edmund had quickly separated from the group to find their aunt. They had quickly spotted Bill and were eventually able to locate the Weasley patriarch as well as Charlie and Percy.

The Death Eaters had fled soon after noticing the spread of uncontrolled Fiendfyre. None of them had been apprehended and the wizard who had started the Fiendfyre was still unknown, though the Ministry was apparently following up leads. There was even a mention that the notorious convict Sirius Black may have been behind the attack, which alternatively amused and worried Harry.

Recuperating in a bed at St. Mungos, Harry’s days were a mix of long, drawn out periods of boredom interspersed with what seemed like a stampede of people during visiting times. The Weasleys were regular visitors and dropped in on a daily basis. Mrs Weasley became especially overwrought whenever she saw him, but Harry was grateful for the home-cooked food she brought along. The best thing he received, however, had to be a book of Runes from Bill.

“Dug this out for you,” Bill told him, handing over a slightly ragged copy of Ancient Runes: Book One by Virgil Dalladay. “Thought, considering you seemed pretty interested, that you might want to start learning some runes. The book’s rather old, but with Ancient Runes that usually a good thing, what with people writing helpful notes; I know it helped me out in my third year.”

Harry had stuttered out his thanks and immediately started to flick through. Since then, it had become the main thing Harry studied during those long periods of boredom. There was nothing else to do since he was forbidden from leaving his bed and he had been put in a private room after concerns arose over his celebrity status. And besides, it turned out to be interesting with each translation telling a story about a family of Romans living in the town of Pompeii.

But tomorrow he would be free from the white-washed walls of his room at St. Mungos. Tomorrow Harry was finally returning to Hogwarts for his fourth year. He only hoped it would be uneventful. While the adventures were exciting, he was getting fed up of always ending up in the hospital wing.