Stormseeker: Borrowed Destiny

Chapter 62: Snakes in the Dark

---

"Couldn't we have found a male Squib child to do this with instead?" Sirius moans, looking down at his body, which now looks like an eleven year old girl.

"Take what you can get," I say. "She was quite happy to part with a little bit of hair in exchange for a few galleons. Let's go, we don't want the Polyjuice to wear off while we're in Diagon Alley."

"Don't worry, I've brought enough to last several hours, just in case," Sirius says.

Grimmauld Place isn't connected to the Floo network for obvious security reasons, so I wind up Side-Along Apparating with Moony to get to Diagon Alley. Just like my first time going to the Nexus. I really need to learn how to Apparate myself sometime.

Wasting no time, we head straight for Ollivander's. "Ah, good day," Ollivander says. "Another one for Hogwarts? Hmm..." He peers intently at Sirius, and I have to wonder if he can tell who it is even under the form of a young girl. "And what might your name be, young lady?"

"I'm Heather Mitchell," Sirius replies.

"Are you, now?" Ollivander says, thoughtfully, then shakes his head. "No, I don't believe so. Welcome back to my shop, Sirius Black."

Sirius stares at him. "How...?"

I smirk. "I told you we wouldn't fool him."

"I'm assuming they snapped your wand when they took you to Azkaban?" Ollivander asks. "Such a waste. Well, come on, let's find you another one."

"Wait, you're not going to turn me in?" Sirius wonders.

"He didn't actually do it, you know," Moony says quickly.

"I'm only interested in crafting wands and providing wizards with ones to match them," Ollivander says. "What they do with them afterward once they leave my shop is not my business. And you do not seem to be here to do unpleasant things to me, but rather to engage in business. I see no reason to deny you that."

He brings Sirius a number of wands to try out one by one. Finally, a good match is made with a wand of spruce and dragon heartstring, fourteen inches long.

"Ah, spruce, an interesting choice," Ollivander muses. "A flamboyant sort of wood well-suited to a wizard who is bold and has a good sense of humor."

Both Moony and I snicker softly at that description. Sirius glares aside at us and counts out the galleons for it. Spruce and dragon heartstring, fourteen inches. I'll remember that, like I remembered Neville's. Wait, what was Neville's again? Crap.

"Out of curiosity, when did you make that wand?" I ask.

"1983, I believe," Ollivander replies. "I hope your new wand serves you well, Heather Mitchell. Good luck at Hogwarts."

Sirius looks at him in puzzlement for a moment, and then just says, "Thank you, sir."

On the way out of Diagon Alley, I spot in the crowd what I think is a purple turban. My heart jumps in alarm. It couldn't be. But who else would have that horrible of fashion sense?

"Something wrong, Harry?" Moony asks.

I shake my head. "Just thought I saw a ghost, of the not-dead variety."

I quickly move to follow after where I saw the turban moving. I get another glimpse of him as the crowd opens up. It looks like he's heading into Knockturn Alley.

"Harry, where are you going?" Moony asks. "You shouldn't go in there--"

I ignore him and rush after the turban. I dart through the narrow, twisting passageways, trying to keep sight of the purple turban in the darkened alleyways. I think I've lost Moony and Sirius somewhere along the way, as I don't hear them behind me anymore.

A rickety building at the end of a cul-de-sac -- I think he went in here. I try to peer in through the windows, but the curtains block the view. The door is ajar, however, so I try to poke my head inside. I wish I had the invisibility cloak, but Sirius still has it. Just as well, since he usually needs it more.

The shop is bigger on the inside than it appears, and I have to creep further inside to get a closer look or hope to eavesdrop. The shelves bear what seem to be potion ingredients, but I don't recognize what most of them might be.

"... and I'll require some of this as well," I hear Quirrell's voice saying.

Yes, it's definitely Quirrell. What's he doing here? I thought he was still in Azkaban! I peer around a shelf and get a good look at him. No doubt about it. He looks somewhat worse for wear, like he's aged twenty years in the last two, but there's no mistaking his identity. As I'm trying to get a closer look, my elbow catches on a silver bowl full of bright red snail shells and clatters to the floor.

Quirrell snaps his head over toward me and gives a wave of his wand in my direction. Ropes spring out of nowhere and bind me tightly in place. "You," Quirrell hisses. "Are you spying on me now, boy, after you betrayed me? I have no idea how you found out about that, but after all the trouble I went to for you, I am not pleased with you."

"What makes you think it was me?" I ask.

I feel something poke against my Occlumency barriers. It's good to know that those are still strong as ever. "Who else could have found out about it?" Quirrell says.

"Don't blame me for your carelessness," I say. I can't get my wand out to defend myself with these ropes, much as I try to wriggle. The knife Sirius gave me for Christmas is in my bag. Maybe I can get that out. I doubt it, though.

"I was not careless, you fool boy," Quirrell growls.

"Whatever," I say. "So how did you get out of Azkaban, then?"

"Served my sentence," Quirrell says. "They released me. Two years, idiot boy. Two years was all they gave me. Do you think that would really be more than a mere setback?"

Note to self: If I ever want someone permanently gone, I should just kill them myself rather than relying on prison terms for petty crimes. Quirrell seems to have entirely forgotten that the shopkeeper is even there, who likewise is quietly standing by and not caring to annoy this obviously crazy, violent man.

"Nonetheless, you have my sympathy," I say. "No one deserves to be locked up in that place."

Quirrell snorts softly. "I don't need your misplaced sympathy, boy. Crucio!"

Red-hot pain shoots through my body, worse than any death I've ever encountered. I'm screaming, my body spasming in agony. With pain like this, I must be going to die soon. Then it will be over. There's no way I could survive something like this.

And then, as suddenly as it came, the pain stops. I pant softly, staring at Quirrell through hazy vision, hanging limply from the magical ropes binding me to the shelf. He grins back at me with a wicked expression.

"So, did you enjoy that?" Quirrell says, chuckling darkly.

I glance down at myself, expecting to see blood pouring out of my body from a thousand cuts, but there's not a mark on me, despite how much it aches. "Why don't you just kill me already and get it over with, if that's what you're going to do?"

"So eager to die, are you?" Quirrell says. "But that would be wasteful. I have other plans for you. Now, the question is, whether you are going to submit to them willingly or not."

I really should not have run off on my own. The worst thing that could happen here is that I don't die. "You're giving me a choice?" I say.

"Of course," Quirrell says, chuckling again. "I feel fortunate that you sought me out. Now, you can tell me what preparations I will need to make. Be assured, however, that your willing cooperation will be richly compensated."

"With what?" I ask reflexively, out of morbid curiosity. Damn it, I really don't actually plan on going along with this, do I?

"Your life, for one thing," Quirrell says. "A place at my side. Status. Power. Knowledge."

Tempting. But I'm not one to bow to mere temptation. I know that some of my friends would go along with this gladly, but others would find the prospect utterly appalling. I remember Neville's worst fear, being me as a Dark Lord...

"No," I say, shaking my head. "It's not worth it."

"A pity," Quirrell says. "Then I'll just have to force it. Imperio."

A wonderful sensation floats through my mind, and my new master releases me from my bonds. Just then, I hear footsteps. Moony storms into the shop, wand in hand, with a black dog at his heels.

"Harry!" Moony cries. "Are you alright?"

Kill him, says a voice in my head. I want nothing more than to make my master happy. I whip out my wand.

"Fulgoris!" I cast. A crack of blue lightning shoots from the tip of my wand and strikes Moony. "Expelliarmus! Impedimenta!"

"Harry, what are you doing?" Moony demands as his wand goes flying and he's stopped firmly in place.

Padfoot leaps onto my chest, snarling. My wand gets knocked out of my hand and dangles from its wrist chain. A wave of Quirrell's wand from above me, and the dog goes flying across the room, swatted away like an insect.

I get to my feet and, with a flick of my wrist, my wand is in my hand again. "Fulgoris!" I cast at Moony until he collapses. I'm ecstatic to be able to fulfill my master's wishes.

"Who was that?" Quirrell asks me.

"Remus Lupin," I reply.

Padfoot darts around the shelves and attacks Quirrell this time, leaping at the purple turban with fangs bared. Again, he's swatted away.

Kill the dog, too, commands the voice of my master in my mind.

That's Sirius. The dog, whimpering painfully in the corner of the room where he fell. I would never hurt Sirius. But my master wishes it. No, damn it. I'm under the Imperius Curse. My mind has been enslaved. I find myself raising my wand without even really thinking about it, eager to acceed to my master's desires.

No. NO, I will not kill Sirius! Shuddering involuntarily, I shake off the spell. I look over in horror toward Moony's body. Abyss, did I kill him? Is he dead? Fuck.

I turn toward Quirrell in a rage. He enslaved me with magic. He forced me to kill my friend. Anger and hate seethe in my blood. I pour every ounce of power and emotion into my wand, and scream, "FULGORIS!"

CRACK-A-DOOM! A flash of blinding lightning fills my vision and rips through my body. But the pain is gone in an instant, and I'm dead.

---

I wake in my room in Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. I'm magically drained and tired from the force of that spell, but otherwise alright. Damn. I hadn't actually intended to kill myself there, but I was so, so very angry. I just hope I took Quirrell out with me.

I rub my eyes and head downstairs. At breakfast with Moony and Sirius, I say, "Quirrell was released from Azkaban."

"Who?" Sirius asks.

"Defense teacher, first year," I say. "The one who was possessed by the Dark Lord."

"That's not good," Moony says.

"How did you find out about this?" Sirius asks, then his face dawns in realization. "He didn't kill you, did he?"

I shake my head. "Technically, I killed myself. Though not intentionally. I was really angry at him and overcharged my Lightning Curse a bit much."

"What happened?" Moony asks.

"Imperius Curse," I say quietly. "He made me kill you. I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to apologize for, Harry," Moony says gently. "Greater wizards than you have been unable to withstand that curse."

"So should we cancel today's trip, then?" Sirius asks. "Maybe schedule it for another day?"

"Spruce and dragon heartstring, fourteen inches," I say. "We could just pick it up real quick and be out of there in a moment."

"I think it would be best if the two of you stayed here," Moony says. "I'll go to Diagon Alley myself."

"Fine," Sirius says. "I didn't really want to be an eleven year old girl, anyway."

"Hey, if you got enough Polyjuice Potion, you could attend Hogwarts again!" I say with a snicker.

"Ugh," Sirius says. "As a first year girl? No thanks. I'd rather come along as your dog again."

"What, missing the Slytherins already?" I say.

"They're kind of growing on me," Sirius says. "Like a fungus, but hey."

"I'll go pick up that wand," Moony says, standing up and shaking his head in amusement.

---

"Hmm, what's this?" Sirius says, looking through the mail one morning. "Looks like Fudge sent us tickets to the Quidditch World Cup. Guess he's not so useless after all. Top box, even! Great seats!"

Sure enough, there's three tickets, along with a friendly note suggesting that I bring my friends. I've remained on good terms with Fudge, giving him my support whenever desired. A small price to pay to keep Moony out of any potential trouble, I think.

Sirius absently picks up the Daily Prophet to read through it. "So, who are you going to bring?" he asks. "Besides me, of course. Dogs get in free, I'm sure."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" I say. "There's going to be a lot of wizards there. What if one of them realizes you're an Animagus?"

Sirius shakes his head. "Relax. Nobody knows my Animagus form, and most people aren't going to be able to tell an Animagus from a normal animal unless they're specifically testing them."

"Well, alright then." I say. "Draco probably already begged his father for tickets the minute he heard it was happening." At least I'd hope so, given the somewhat frosty relationship they have at the moment. Draco opted to spend more of this holiday with his family. I hope that's working out for him. "Moony, are you interested?"

"I was never as big a Quidditch fan as Sirius or James," Moony says. "But I certainly wouldn't say no, and you're going to want to have an adult along anyway. Still, I don't know that Fudge would be happy to have a werewolf with him in the top box..."

"If he didn't want you there, he shouldn't have given me the tickets," I say. "And it's not like it takes place on a full moon anyway."

"Very well," Moony says.

I write a note to Draco asking him if he's got tickets to the World Cup, and send it along with Solomon. A bit later, the owl returns with Draco's reply in the affirmative, so I write a letter to Blaise instead.

The next morning, Blaise's reply is waiting for me at breakfast, along with a purple box. "You got prime seats for the Quidditch World Cup?" he writes. "Excellent! Count me in. Also, I sent along another box of your favorite candy."

"You know, I still don't like you taking those things," Sirius comments, glaring at the box of Dream Sweets.

"I know," I say, grabbing it and shoving it in my bag of holding. "Indulge me, alright?"

"What happens if your supply runs out, though?" Sirius says. "Can you really trust Blaise that much?"

"You've spent most of the last term with him," I point out. "You tell me."

"He didn't seem too bad, for a Slytherin," Sirius says. "But what if he's just manipulating you to gain your favor, and make sure you'll do whatever he wants?"

"What if?" I say. "I'm expecting that, Sirius."

Sirius stares at me. "Then why are you taking them?"

"Because I don't think he's crazy enough to ask me to do anything too reprehensible," I say. "And the benefits are totally worth it."

Sirius sighs. "Fine. And if he ever does turn on you... I suppose we can look for another source to keep you going, then, much as I hate it..."

---

Moony, Blaise, Padfoot, and I arrive at the site of the Quidditch World Cup by portkey. I'm not all that thrilled about Quidditch myself, but it promises to be quite an event, and it would be rude to refuse Fudge's invitation. The social aspects will be fun, at least. It's a few days after the full moon, and Moony and I have recovered from it by this point.

"We're going to be camping!" I say excitedly. "Where's our spot?"

"Over that way, it looks like," Moony comments absently.

We head across the moor, and soon come to a small stone cottage. There's a man standing in the doorway, dressed strangely.

"Would you look at that?" Blaise murmurs. "A Muggle! What's he doing here, I wonder?"

"He's the campground manager," Moony replies, going up to the Muggle man. "Mr. Roberts, I presume?"

"That would be me," Mr. Roberts says. "And who might you be?"

"I've got a reservation for a spot, booked under the name of Potter I believe," Moony says.

"Right, of course," Mr. Roberts says. "Your spot's up by the woods over there. Only staying one night?"

Moony nods. "That's right."

"You'll be paying now?" Mr. Roberts asks.

"Certainly," Moony says, pulling out some strange bits of paper with markings on them, counting them out, and passing them over to the Muggle.

"Thank you kindly," says Mr. Roberts. "I've never seen the place this crowded before. Is there some sort of event going on?"

"Something like that," Moony says vaguely.

We make our way to our spot and get the tent set up. It looks like an ordinary Muggle tent on the outside, but it's actually a magical tent with four bedrooms, a parlor, and a full-size kitchen. I hope Moony or Sirius knows how to cook, though, seeing as we didn't bring Kreacher along, and I know perfectly well that Blaise certainly doesn't.

"Is this really camping if we're bringing along a small house?" I wonder.

"Would you prefer we did this like Muggles?" Blaise asks.

"How do Muggles do it?" I ask.

"They'd have a campfire to roast their food over," Moony says. "And they'd sleep in bedrolls."

"How primitive," I say.

"Indeed," Blaise agrees.

"And they do this for fun and not because they have to?" I wonder.

"Yes," Moony says.

"Muggles are weird," I say.

"Well, look over there," Blaise says, pointing off at another lot. "Looks like the Weasleys are here, trying to do it the Muggle way. Damned blood traitors." Padfoot lowers his ears and makes a soft growling sound at Blaise.

"We're next to the Weasleys?" I say, sighing. "Great."

There's a lot of things to see, and a lot of people to meet and talk to, so we head off to do that. We pass a group of wizards who are wearing what must be Muggle clothing. One has a brightly colored robe with frills and floral prints, one with short trousers, another with a plaid skirt...

"Not one of them would actually pass for a Muggle," Moony says quietly. Thankfully, he was in charge of picking out our Muggle attire. Neither Blaise or I would know the difference, certainly.

We pass by a fellow named Crouch, who seems to be going on about some dry legal crap that I can't be bothered to pay attention to. We also run into one Ludo Bagman, who seems to be trying to goad everyone into making bets.

"Would any of you fellows care to place a bet on the match?" Ludo asks.

"No thank you," Moony says.

"I don't gamble," I reply.

"I will," Blaise says, pulling a coin out of his pocket. "How about a galleon on Viktor Krum to get the Snitch?"

"Who's Viktor Krum?" I ask.

Everyone in earshot looks at me as if scandalized. Including Moony. Including Padfoot, and how a dog manages to look scandalized, I'm not sure.

"You came to the Quidditch World Cup, and you don't even know who's playing?" Ludo asks me in bewilderment.

"Pretty much, yeah," I reply. "I don't know any of them, so does it really matter? It makes little difference to me who wins or loses."

"Ah, where's your sense of national pride?" Ludo says. "I'd expect you to be supporting Ireland."

"I was raised in America," I say.

"Or do you prefer Bulgaria?" Ludo goes on. "Rumor has it that you're secretly a dark wizard, perhaps you're a fan of Durmstrang then?"

"It's hardly a secret if everyone knows about it, is it?" I say, rolling my eyes. "What's Durmstrang?"

"A school over in eastern Europe," Blaise says. "They're more supportive of the Dark Arts there, or so I've heard."

"I see," I say. Maybe, in some other lifetime, I should attend there and see what it's like.

Blaise buys a pair of Omnioculars from a witch vendor, but I pass on it. I won't be able to follow the match anyway, so why bother? I do, however, buy a set for Moony. I'm sure Sirius might like to replay the match with them later.

When the time approaches for the match to start, we head up for the stadium, and straight up to the top box.

"There you are, Stormseeker, Blaise," Draco says. "Great view from up here, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Blaise agrees.

Fudge is also present, making a show of ignoring the fact that Moony even exists, which is probably just as well. There's a female house-elf who is apparently saving a seat for Crouch. There's also several Bulgarians, who don't seem to be able to speak a word of English.

"So how's your summer been, Draco?" I ask.

Draco lowers his voice and says, "I wish I were spending it with you instead."

"Ah, what a nice dog," Fudge says. "Should I have sent a ticket for your canine best friend as well, my dear Harry? I daresay it's big enough to take up a seat and a half!" He chuckles.

"Grim loves to watch the players zip around on their brooms," I say. "You'd think he actually knows what's going on." I grin, and pat Padfoot on the back, who lolls his tongue out and wags his tail.

I let Padfoot sit on my lap, and we relax and watch the game. I can't see it very well around the big dog, but that's alright. He's enjoying it, and all I can see are people on brooms flying this way and that. In the end, Ireland wins, but Krum caught the Snitch.

"I kind of feel sorry for Krum," Draco says. "Great Seeker, but he's the one really carrying their matches. The rest of the team seems pretty mediocre."

"If I meet him, I'll be sure to put on my 'pretending to care about Quidditch' routine," I say quietly.

Draco snickers softly. Padfoot seems to be laughing in a canine sort of way. "Did you see that Wronski feint he pulled off?" Draco says. "That was awesome."

"No kidding," Blaise agrees. "And did you see Bulgaria's mascots? Mmm, veela..."

"Ah, puberty," Moony mutters.

We head out of the stadium and back toward our tent. Well, this was a nicely pleasant and uneventful outing. I'm sure Sirius enjoyed getting out of the house for a bit. He might be something of a prisoner in his own home at times, but at least there's no Dementors, and the painting of his mother doesn't even scream at us. I head into my comfortable room in the magic tent, pop a Dream Sweet, and go to sleep.

---

"Harry!" says Moony's voice. "Wake up, this is urgent!"

I grumble and roll out of bed reluctantly. I don't like having my dreams interrupted. I'll need to take another Dream Sweet if I actually wake up and want to go back to sleep again later. But if it's really an emergency, I suppose I'd better.

"What's going on?" I say drowsily.

"Trouble!" Moony says. "Come outside, quickly!"

I run out of the tent, followed closely by Blaise, with Padfoot at our heels. There are people running, screaming, drunken laughter. Then in the distance, I spot a flash of green light. There's a group of wizards moving across the field. They seem to be wearing masks.

"Oh crap," Blaise murmurs.

In the air above them, there are four figures levitating, writhing in torment. It looks like that Muggle that greeted us yesterday, along with his wife and children. The masked wizards are blasting at the tents, setting some of them on fire, causing others to collapse.

Damn it, I can't just stand by and watch this. I whip out my wand in an instant and rush toward the group of masked wizards. "Fulgoris!" I cast into the crowd.

"Who's this casting curses at us?" asks one of them.

"Why, if it isn't Harry Potter!" says another.

"Stop this right now!" I demand.

"Is he really threatening us?" says one.

"What, does the little dark wizard care about Muggles?" asks one.

"There's no point in tormenting them like that," I say. "There's no honor or glory in this. This is beneath you! And you're attacking other wizards, too! Why are you doing this?"

"Why not?" asks one.

"Harry, run," Moony says urgently, coming up alongside me.

"No way," I say. "Fulgoris!" Lightning shoots at the masked wizards again.

"Oh, that simply won't do," says one. "You've bitten off more than you can chew, little boy."

Before I know it, they're peppering me with curses. I quickly try to put up a Shield Charm, too late. My head grows fuzzy and my body gets weak, and I collapse.

---

"Harry!" I wake to Moony's voice again. "Come on, it's an emergency!"

"Coming," I grumble, heading outside without another question. This is one battle that I can't fight myself, it seems.

Outside, the masked wizards are levitating the Muggles around and tormenting them, just as before. I sigh and restrain myself from going after them, much as I would like to.

"I'm going to go help the Ministry wizards," Moony says. "You boys, take cover in the woods. Padfoot, watch over them."

"Be careful, Moony," I say.

Padfoot barks in acknowledgment, and we part ways. Blaise and I run into the forest. It's awfully dark, and I hesitate to make a light that would give us away. Ultimately, however, I decide that anyone that's looking for us won't be stopped by the lack of light. I whip out my wand and cast, "Lumos."

Up ahead, we run across Draco Malfoy, leaning against a tree, and looking very conflicted. He looks pretty relieved when he sees us. "There you are," he says. "I was hoping you hadn't wound up caught up in that mess."

"What's going on, Draco?" I ask.

"Death Eaters," Draco says quietly. "My father..." He glances around shiftily, as if to make sure nobody else is in earshot, and then whispers, "He's with them."

I groan softly. "And they think tormenting Muggles is just great sport, I suppose. I'm glad I didn't bring Hermione along."

A terrified house-elf rushes past us. I think that was Crouch's one.

"What are we going to do?" Draco asks, looking worriedly to me.

"What can we do?" I ask. "I'm not going over there to try to convince them to stop. Let's just stay put and wait it out, and hope Moony can handle himself."

And then, after a short while, a horrible voice nearby says, "MORSMORDRE!" I spin around, trying to shine my wand into the direction it came from, but I can't make out anything specific. And something glittering green shoots into the sky, and hangs there like an emerald constellation in the shape of a snake and skull.

"The Dark Mark..." Blaise whispers.

"The Dark Lord's sign," Draco adds quietly. "Why did they have to go and do that, whichever of them that was?"

About twenty wizards proceed to pop into the clearing around us, all of them with their wands pointed at us. "Protego!" I cast in an instant, and my friends quickly follow suit.

Just in time, as they all cast, "STUPEFY!" Blinding flashes clatter against my shield, which barely manages to hold them off, and collapses at the end of the volley.

"Stop," Moony says. "That's Harry Potter."

"I knew it," Arthur Weasley says. "I knew he was a future Dark Lord."

"Let's not jump to conclusions," Moony says.

Another wizard, I think it was Crouch from earlier, pushes forward. "Which one of you did it? Who cast the Dark Mark?"

"It wasn't us," Draco says quickly.

"Don't lie to me!" Crouch says, pointing his wand straight at us. "You're at the scene of the crime!"

"Look, if I were to cast a magic symbol in the sky, it would be of a cloud with a lightning bolt," I say. "This skull and snake thing is so not me at all."

"Harry..." Moony says.

"If you didn't cast it, then who did?" Crouch asks. "Where did it come from?"

"That way, I think," I say, pointing my wand off in the direction I heard the voice.

The wizards search the area, and uncover and unconcious house-elf, the one who was running around in a panic earlier, and she appears to have a wand.

"That's my wand!" Blaise says. "I didn't even realize I'd lost it..."

"Careless, Blaise," I say.

"That's my house-elf!" Crouch says indignantly.

Someone Rennervates the house-elf, and they proceed to interrogate the poor terrified thing, and confirm that it was, indeed, Blaise's wand that cast the Dark Mark.

"There's no way that the house-elf cast it," I say. "Not unless she's good with voices or something."

"Could I have my wand back now, please?" Blaise asks.

There's a veritable chaos of questions and accusations flying, but eventually, Blaise gets his wand back and the wizards seem to agree that we didn't do anything. The poor house-elf, Winky, on the other hand, ends up getting sacked by Crouch, and bawling in despair.

"She's done nothing wrong," I say. "Can't you see how terrified she is? Look, if you don't want her, I'll take her."

Several people all look at me at once as though I've just said something insane.

"And I'm sure you'd like that, wouldn't you, 'Stormseeker'?" says one wizard I don't recognize. "You probably arranged all of this yourself!"

"You have got to be kidding me," I say. "I prefer my chaos to be a little more organized. This was just a stupid and pointless mess."

"Look at him, complaining about how it was done and not what was done," Crouch says.

"I think the boys have been through enough for one night, Mr. Crouch," Moony says. "If you would, I'd like to take them home now."

"And running with werewolves doesn't exactly help their case much either," Crouch adds.

"Forget about it," I say, shaking my head. "I just want to go back to bed."

After finally disentangling ourselves from the group of wizards, we return to our tent, Draco coming along with us. "Do you mind if I stay with you guys tonight?" he asks sheepishly.

"Come on in," I say. "We have room for you."

"Thanks," Draco says. "I just don't want to... you know... with my father and all..."

"What in the Abyss was he thinking?" I mutter, shaking my head.

"It's stupid," Draco says. "The Dark Lord is gone, and he doesn't even know about the truth about Quirrell in first year."

"Oh, Merlin," I say. "I forgot to tell you. Quirrell's out of Azkaban. I saw him in Knockturn Alley last week."

Draco and Blaise both pale and exchange looks. "Combined with this incident, that's not good," Blaise says. "Not good at all."

"You don't suppose he's been in contact with them, has he?" I ask.

"Not that I heard of," Draco says, sighing. "I wish I knew what was really going on here."

It's tough to see Draco shaken like this. I put my hand on his shoulder reassuringly and say, "Let's just try to get some sleep."

"Yeah," Draco says. "Yeah. Good idea."