"If your whole life turns out to be a lie, what will you do then?"
"If everything you knew turns out to be a hoax, what will you do then?"
Graciana Duerre Weasley, twin sister of Ron Weasley, is a troublemaker. Mischievous but a little introvert, bo...
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REACHING BACK INTO THEIR tents, the celebration went for quiet long, before they broke into an enjoyable argument over the match. It was only when Ginny fell asleep right at the tiny table and spilled hot chocolate all over the floor that Arthur called halt to the verbal replays and insisted the everybody go to bed. Hermione, Ginny and Grace went to the next tent and fell asleep as soon as they lay on their beds.
The next thing Grace knew was that she was suddenly woken up by her father's shouting.
"Get up! Grace— Ginny— Hermione — come on now, get up, this is urgent!"
All three of them woke up to see the panicked look on his face.
"What happened, Dad?" Grace asked worried.
Se could tell that something was wrong. The noises in the campsite had changed. The singing had stopped. She could hear screams, and the sound of people running. She slipped down from the bunk and reached for her clothes, but Arthur, who had pulled on his jeans over his own pajamas, said, "No time, Grace— just grab a jacket and get outside — quickly!"
Grace did as she was told and hurried outside, with Hermione and Ginny on their heels.
By the light of the few fires that were still burning, she 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. Grace squinted at them. . . . They didn't seem to have faces. . . . Then she 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. Two of the figures were very small.
More wizards were joining the marching group, laughing and pointing up at the floating bodies. Tents crumpled and fell as the marching crowd swelled. Once or twice Grace saw one of the marchers blast a tent out of his way with his wand. Several caught fire. The screaming grew louder.
The floating people were suddenly illuminated as they passed over a burning tent and Grace recognized one of them: Mr. Roberts, the campsite manager. The other three looked as though they might be his wife and children. One of the marchers below flipped Mrs. Roberts upside down with his wand; her nightdress fell down to reveal voluminous drawers and she struggled to cover herself up as the crowd below her screeched and hooted with glee.
