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Chapter 470: An Acquaintance
🕑 Added 2025-02-09 13:35:06 +0000 UTCThe past hour or so had been tough for Cedric and the others, cooped up in the suitcase with a dragon. But that ordeal was nothing compared to what Kreacher had endured.
The poor House-elf had only stepped out to fetch water, unaware that when he returned, everyone in the tent would be gone. Then chaos erupted in the camp as witches and wizards began dueling, and all sorts of dangerous spells were flying around. When the Killing Curse appeared, Kreacher had nearly fainted from fear on the spot.
It wasn’t that he was particularly attached to Kanna, but Regulus still needed Snape's help...and to ensure Regulus looked more like himself again and less like a creature, Kanna couldn't come to any harm—not even a scratch.
So, despite his terror, Kreacher had frantically started searching, calling for Kanna as he went. For more than an hour, he checked nearly every tent, even fending off a dozen witches and wizards who got in his way. The poor House-elf, nearly in despair, was on the verge of overturning the entire camp when he finally heard Kanna’s voice.
Overwhelmed with relief, Kreacher wasted no time. He immediately Apparated Kanna out as soon as he reentered the tent, determined to keep her safe from any further dangers. The whole thing happened so quickly that Kanna didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye.
"This..." The others exchanged uncertain glances, still processing what had just happened.
“Well, we should probably head back too,” Mr. Weasley said. “A Dark Mark has appeared over the camp, and I’m sure news will spread quickly. It’s best we get home as soon as possible, so your parents don’t worry.”
With that, Mr. Weasley stood and headed out of the tent. "I'll see if I can arrange an early Portkey. You all stay here."
...
“The Dark Mark?” Harry asked, puzzled, after Mr. Weasley had left. “Is that the skull in the sky? What exactly is that?”
“It’s the mark of You-Know-Who,” said Bill. “A decade ago, it was the thing people feared most. Wherever the Dark Mark appeared, it meant You-Know-Who had been there.”
“But You-Know-Who is dead,” Harry said.
“Yes, but the Death Eaters are still around,” Bill replied, thinking of the Malfoys and others. “What we saw tonight must have been from the remnants of his followers... somehow they escaped justice and weren’t sent to Azkaban.”
“But that’s the end of it for them,” Charlie chimed in with a grin. “They were caught red-handed with undeniable evidence, and with Headmistress Maxime as a witness, no less. Haha.”
Charlie took a hearty gulp of water. He would have preferred a drink, but with no options other than water, he had to make do.
“Thank goodness you weren’t in the forest,” Bill added, gathering his long, disheveled ponytail. “The Death Eaters are cruel and merciless. If you’d been there when they conjured the Dark Mark... it would’ve been horrible.”
“But... why would a Death Eater even conjure the Dark Mark?” Hermione asked slowly. “I mean, what would be the point, just to scare people?”
“Who knows,” said Bill with a shrug. “Maybe they’d had a bit too much to drink and thought it’d be funny. They used to do things like that before Voldemort fell.” His face twisted in disgust.
Harry didn’t hear the rest; his mind was buzzing. He wandered out of the tent, his gaze lifting to the skulls in the sky as he stood lost in thought.
About half an hour later, Mr. Weasley returned.
He wasn’t alone; accompanying him were Fudge, Crouch, Bagman, and several other Ministry officials. They strode quickly into the tent and immediately pulled Harry aside for a flurry of questions.
Earlier, Mr. Weasley had let slip that Harry Potter had nearly been killed, causing Fudge’s face to go ashen. He’d never been so terrified, not even upon seeing the Dark Mark. If Harry had been killed by a Death Eater right under the Ministry's nose, Fudge knew he’d be flooded with furious letters.
Fudge was followed closely by Crouch, who seized Harry by the shoulders. His face was pale as chalk, and both his hands and his toothbrush mustache were twitching.
“Where is the person who tried to kill you?” Crouch demanded.
“In the woods,” Harry answered.
“Do you still know the way?” Crouch pressed.
“Yes,” Harry replied.
“Good. Take us there…”
The group followed Harry to the part of the forest they had been in earlier. There, the Ministry employee responsible for registration—the one Kyle had knocked unconscious—was still lying under a tree.
At the sight of the man, Crouch’s demeanor shifted; his tense expression relaxed, and he returned to his usual meticulous self.
Scrimgeour, the Head of the Auror Office, stepped forward to examine the man. After a moment, he pulled out a small vial and splashed its contents onto the unconscious man’s face.
“It’s not Polyjuice Potion,” Scrimgeour informed Fudge and Crouch. “Feels like the Imperius Curse.”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Crouch said curtly. “Wake him up and take him back to the Ministry for questioning.”
A few Hit Wizards moved in and carried the man away.
“Minister,” Mr. Weasley said, “it’s far too dangerous for Harry to stay here. I’d like to take him back immediately, if possible.”
“No,” Crouch replied, frowning. “We need more details. He can’t leave just yet.”
“Barty, I think this can wait until we get to the Ministry,” said a witch wrapped in a woolen dressing gown. “The boy’s in shock. Letting him calm down might help him remember more.”
“Yes, yes, you’re right,” Fudge muttered, fiddling with his hat.
Understanding the hint, one of the officials brought over an old tire.
Fudge took it and handed it to Mr. Weasley, then turned to Harry. “Now, lad, don’t forget to come to the Ministry afterward. How about tomorrow? In the meantime, try to recall as many details as you can.”
Still a bit confused, Harry looked to Mr. Weasley, who nodded in reassurance. Harry agreed with a nod of his own.
Though clearly dissatisfied, Crouch could say nothing more; Fudge had made his decision. With a final cold glance, Crouch turned and left. The others followed suit, leaving only a few Aurors to guard the area.
Before departing, Fudge reminded Mr. Weasley once more not to forget to bring Harry to the Ministry the next day.
Mr. Weasley promised, and they all gathered around the tire, preparing to Portkey back to Stoatshead Hill.
While they waited, Kyle glanced toward the Portkey distribution point nearby. The line was even longer than before, with people streaming in from every direction, eager to leave as quickly as possible. If they’d waited in that line, they wouldn’t have been able to leave until noon.
“Ten seconds—everyone ready?” Mr. Weasley called.
Everyone placed their hands on the tire.
As the countdown began, Kyle glanced back at the camp. Now that the danger had passed, more and more people were returning to check on their tents, hoping they hadn’t been destroyed.
Just then, Kyle spotted a familiar figure in the crowd—a head of golden hair, a bright peacock-blue robe, and a set of dazzlingly white teeth that somehow still gleamed in the dark.
Gilderoy Lockhart?
Kyle rubbed his eyes, trying to get a clearer look, but with a soft pop, the Portkey activated, and the familiar face vanished from view.
