Rose Lily Lightbourn always knew she was adopted. She remembered the bright green light when she was only three years old, she remembered a red haired woman fall lifeless to the ground. She remembered a baby crying on the crib. She remembered a tall...
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And I tried to save a life With these diamond hands of mine But they're sharper than a knife
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"Girls, get up! Now! This is urgent!"
Rose swung her feet towards the edge of the bed, hitting the top of her head with the ceiling. Arthur was besides Ginny, shaking her awake. Dimly, Rose could tell something was wrong; she thought she might've been dreaming of those screams, but she heard them again now that she was wake.
"What's happening?" She asked over the screaming and the sound of people running.
She slipped down her bunk and reached for her clothes, but Arthur, who has pulled on his jeans over his own pyjamas, said, "No time! Grab a jacket and get outside- quickly!"
Rose did the same thing, retrieving three coats before pulling a weary Hermione and a sleeping Ginny out of their room. She stepped outside the tent, clutching her wand, to behold the horror that around them.
By the light of a few fires that were still burning, she could see people running away into the woods, fleeing from something that was moving across the field toward the, something that was emitting odd flashes of light and loud noises. Loud jeering, roars of laughter, and drunken yells were drifting toward them; then came a burst of strong green light, which illuminated the scene.
Rose flinched, dragging Hermione and Ginny behind her as the boys emerged from the tent, still looking half-asleep and frightened.
A crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wand pointing straight upward, was marching slowly across the field. Rose squinted at them... They didn't seem to have faces... Then she realized that their heads were hooded, and their faces masked. Her stomach dropped and fear grew deep in her veins. They were death eaters!
High above them, floating along midair, four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes. It was as though the death eaters 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, almost like... children.
As more wizards joined the disguised group, they laughed and pointed up at the floating bodies. As the marching crows grew in number, tents crumpled and toppled. They witnessed one of the marchers use his wand to blow a tent out of the way once or twice. Several of them caught fire. The screams became more intense.
The floating people were suddenly illuminated as they passed a burning tent and Rose recognised one of them: Mr. Roberts, the campsite manager they had all laughed at earlier. The other three looked as though they might've been 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.
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