PHANTOM FIGURES | harry potter

37. the dark mark

     "Don't tell your mother you've been gambling," Mr. Weasley instructed 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 on the lantern-lit path, and the leprechauns kept shooting over their heads, cackling and waving their lanterns. When they finally reached the tents, nobody felt like sleeping at all, and given the level of noise around them, Mr. Weasley agreed that they could all have one last cup of cocoa together before turning in. They were soon arguing enjoyably about the match; Mr. Weasley got drawn into a disagreement about cobbling with Charlie, and it was only when Ginny fell asleep right at the tiny table and spilled her hot chocolate all over the floor that Mr. Weasley called a halt to the verbal replays and insisted that everyone go to bed. Aspen, Hermione, Jasmine, and Ginny went into the next tent. The four girls changed into their pyjamas and clambered into their bunks. From the other side of the campsite they could still hear much singing and the odd echoing bang.

     It didn't take long for Aspen to fall asleep after her eyes shut, it had been a lengthy and action-packed day, which always meant for good sleep. Well, maybe not always...

     "Get up! Ginny - girls - come on, now, this is urgent!" Mr. Weasley was suddenly shouting.

     Aspen sat up so quickly she hit her head on Jasmine's bed above her. She groaned in pain and said hoarsely, "What's the matter?"

     Dimly, she 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. Still groggy with sleep, Aspen tried reaching for clothes after noticing Mr. Weasley had pulled jeans over his pyjamas, but he stopped her, "No time - just grab a jacket and go - quickly!"

     Aspen did as she was told and slipped on her shoes, running outside with the other girls on her 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 omitting 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 upwards, was marching slowly across the field. They didn't seem to have faces... Then Aspen realised 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 Aspen 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 Aspen 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.