Jupiter | Harry James Potter

vi ; morsmordre

A/N

i just wanted to say a quick thank you for 1k reads, it truly means the world to me. i dedicate practically all of my time to this story just because i love writing it, and it warms my heart to know that other people enjoy it as well. also a special thank you to those who vote and comment frequently, (you know who you are), i appreciate you so so much and every time i get a notification i always go back and see what it is that people enjoyed enough to comment on. this is kind of a filler chapter so sorry about that, but happy reading! <3

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"Krum, Krum, Krum, Krum!"

Harry and Ron chanted the Bulgarian seekers name over and over again inside our tent as Fred and George whistled an Irish tune, carrying the flag on their backs.

"There's no one like Krum." Ron said, standing on the dining table, a ferocious and determined look on his face. "He's like a bird, the way he rides the wind."

"Dumb Krum." Fred and George honked as they imitâtes birds circling Ron.

"He's more than an athlete." Ron smirked. "He's an artist."

"I think you're in love, Ron." Ginny smiled, patting him on the shoulder gently.

"Shut up." Ron scoffed as Fred and George grabbed him by the arms and began to sing.

"Viktor, I love you. Viktor, I do!" We had all joined in at this point. "When we're apart my heart bears only for you!"

"Sounds like the Irish have got their pride on." Fred grinned as the sounds of people celebrating got louder.

"That doesn't sound like celebrating." I muttered to myself, standing up from the table I was sitting at. The cheers were turning into screams.

"It's not the Irish!" Mr. Weasley said, taking Ginny by the hand. "We've got to get out of here. Now."

We hurried out of the tent into complete chaos. There was the smell of fire in the air as an orange glow overcasted the entire campsite. People were running like mad, each in their own attempt to get away from something.

"Get out! It's the Death Eaters!" A man frantically yelled as he ran passed us. My breath caught in my lungs as I heard the name.

"Get back to the Portkey, everybody, and stick together!" Mr. Weasley said, his mouth agape slightly. "Fred, George, Ginny is your responsibility! Go!"

The Death Eaters, tightly grouped and advancing in unison with wands aimed skyward, marched slowly across the field. Above them, four individuals floated, writhing in midair, their bodies twisted into grotesque forms. It seemed as if the masked wizards below were controlling them like puppeteers, manipulating the figures above as if they were marionettes tethered by invisible strings emanating from the wands. Two of the figures were very small.

"That's sick," Ron muttered, watching the smallest child, who had begun to spin like a top, sixty feet above the ground, his head flopping limply from side to side. "That is really sick. . . ."

"C'mon," Fred said, grabbing Ginny's hand and starting to pull her toward the wood. The four of us quickly followed, each of us attaching ourselves to one another.

The vibrant lanterns guiding the way to the stadium had been snuffed out. Shadowy figures stumbled amidst the trees, children sobbed, and anxious cries echoed in the chilly night air. I found myself getting pushed and prodded around by unseen faces in the chaos. Suddenly, Ron's cry of pain pierced through the turmoil.

"What happened?" Hermione asked anxiously, stopping so abruptly that I walked into her. "Ron, where are you? Oh this is stupid. Lumos!"

She illuminated her wand and directed its narrow beam across the path. Ron was lying sprawled on the ground.