𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗸𝗲𝗿𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗹, draco malfoy

˗ˋ 45

CHAPTER FORTY FIVE
✧
-: fourth year :-

── IN WHICH THEY RETURN
TO THE BURROW

. . .

The group of five walked somberly back to the campsite, traversing through the outskirts of the forest until they emerged right outside. There, a large group of panicked wizards and witches were gathered.

Hermione, who had expressed her distaste for how Mr Crouch and Mr Bagman had treated Winky and heard Mr Weasley and Marlie's support on the matter, inched closer to the Potter girl, their arms joined together at the elbow.

Many of them recognised Mr Weasley and surged forward, hitting the man with a barrage of questions. 

"What's going on in there?" A man in a pair of silken blue pajamas asked, looking impatient.

 "Calm down Atticus. Who conjured it?" Another similarly dressed man asked, and Marlie wondered whether it was just the light or if the two wizards were in matching pajamas in two different colours - it looked as if their initials were inscribed in gold thread over the chest pocket.

"Arthur - it's not - Him?" A witch pushed past the two men, her hair arranged in a multitude of bright purple hair rollers.

"Of course it's not Him." Mr Weasley shooked his head impatiently. "We don't know who it was; it looks like they Disapparated. Now excuse me, please, I want to get to bed."

Mr Weasley turned and ushered the four teenagers past him, guiding them around the crowd and then taking the lead in bringing them back to assigned patch of land on which their - hopefully still standing - tents were.

All was quiet in the campsite, and none of the group seemed to have any intention of changing that, walking past several severely singed tents that were still smoking. There was a feeling of great relief when they discovered that their own tents were not a part of the group of ruined ones, and as they approached, Charlie was poking his head out of the boys' tent.

"Dad, what's going on?" Charlie called through the dark. "Fred, George, and Ginny got back okay, but the others-"

 "I've got them here," Mr Weasley said as they reached the tent, bending down and entering the tent. Marlie, Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered after him. 

Bill was sitting at the small kitchen table, holding a bedsheet to his arm, which was bleeding profusely. Charlie had a large rip in his shirt, and Percy was sporting a bloody nose. Fred, George, and Ginny looked unhurt, though shaken. 

"Did you get them, Dad?" Bill asked sharply, holding the bedsheet even tighter still. "The person who conjured the Mark?"

 "No," Mr Weasley replied with a sigh. "We found Barty Crouch's elf holding Marlie's wand, but we're none the wiser about who actually conjured the Mark." 

"What?" Bill, Charlie, and Percy exclaimed together. 

"Marlie's wand?" Fred repeated, holding out his arm and pulling the girl over to sit between him and George on one of the sofas, Ginny perched on the arm, a sight more paler than usual. "Of course you'd be caught up in all of this." He ruffled her hair, producing a sweet from his pocket. "Toffee?"