Seeing that face—so eerily similar to Barty Crouch's—made Draco's mind go blank for a second, and in that instant, he missed his best chance to stop the man.
The Dark Mark blazing in the night sky was impossible to miss. Any wizard with eyes could see it—especially at this hour.
"Damn it."
The moment Draco caught sight of the massive green skull, his first thought was to get out as fast as possible. His second was to make sure these mysterious black-robed wizards didn't get away.
That was the only way to avoid being dragged into the chaos that was about to erupt.
And when the screams from the direction of the stadium reached his ears, Draco realized he didn't have much time left...
...
He raised his hand. Magic flared.
Through the haze of consciousness, Astoria thought she heard Draco's voice, followed by the sharp crack of colliding spells.
"Stupefy!"
Draco cast quickly, but Barty Crouch Jr. had been ready. He wasn't just any wizard—his reflexes were immediate.
The Stunning Spell, meant for one of them, was effortlessly blocked.
Most of the Death Eaters hadn't even registered what had happened yet.
Although Draco's spell hadn't landed, the burst of magic and the precision behind it immediately changed the air. The few Death Eaters who had dismissed him before now drew their wands with genuine caution. The eerie laughter that had filled the space earlier vanished.
"I'll be sure to report this to the Master," Crouch said smoothly. "Did you really think the one he intends to recruit would be just an ordinary wizard?"
"M–Master—"
"Shut up."
At his command, the Death Eaters visibly flinched. The sound of their sharp intakes of breath carried a note of real fear, as though the mere mention of their master's name was enough to freeze them.
Crouch, however, looked almost pleased. The distant screams from the stadium seemed to amuse him. He didn't appear bothered in the slightest by Draco's earlier attack.
Seeing that, Draco knew his chance to fight back had passed. He pushed down the impulse and dismissed the idea—for now.
Besides, he'd already achieved what he needed. The noise from their exchange would be enough for the arriving Aurors to pinpoint their location.
As for escaping?
That wasn't so simple.
For safety reasons, the Ministry had sealed off the entire area around the Quidditch stadium. Beyond the usual Muggle-Repelling Charms, they'd layered the grounds with enchantments to block all forms of Apparition and Disapparition.
In short, Anti-Apparition and Anti-Disapparition Wards blanketed the zone. No wizard could leave—or enter—that way.
And walking out on foot?
Draco's eyes flicked toward the ring of Death Eaters surrounding him, their stances tense, their intent unmistakable.
Even if they didn't strike first, it was clear they had no intention of letting him walk away.
…
Both sides stood locked in a tense stalemate.
At least until they accomplished whatever they'd come for, the Death Eaters clearly had no intention of letting Draco leave.
"So this is your grand plan? Since when did the Dark Lord resort to such childish tricks?"
Draco didn't know if there was a deeper motive behind all this, but that didn't stop him from probing them with words.
After all, Voldemort's name held absolute weight in the minds of these fanatics. One wrong word, one flare of emotion—and they might slip up.
"Watch your tongue, boy," one of them hissed. "If it weren't for the Master's plan, I'd kill you right here. No... better yet, perhaps I'd hurt the little witch on your back. That would teach you there are some things you shouldn't say."
"Oh? You're welcome to try."
Draco shifted slightly, angling his body to shield Astoria from view. The air around him pulsed violently as his magic flared, his wand now leveled straight at Barty Crouch Jr.'s face.
Though he was the one surrounded, his presence was sharp, commanding—unyielding.
For a moment, the Death Eaters faltered. Draco's cold defiance rattled them. But then Barty Crouch Jr., face twisting into a frigid sneer, raised a hand, signaling them to stand down.
"Whether it works or not isn't for you to decide. Especially when some people aren't exactly…"
He stopped mid-sentence, as though realizing he'd said too much. The abrupt silence was heavy—unnerving.
But before Draco could question him further, the sound of approaching footsteps cut through the tension. Shadows moved closer in the distance. Barty Crouch Jr. glanced that way and smirked.
"Time's up. I look forward to our next meeting, Draco. Hopefully by then, you'll have come to your senses—and joined us."
"..."
As his voice faded, the Death Eaters who had circled Draco stepped back, gathering behind Barty Crouch Jr. It was obvious—they had a way to escape.
Draco's gaze snapped toward the old boot clutched between Peter Pettigrew's teeth.
A Portkey.
"Don't even think about it—"
There was no way Draco would let them simply vanish in front of him. To use a Portkey right under his nose? That was an insult.
Portkeys might not be bound by the same restrictions as Apparition, but once activated, they couldn't be interrupted.
Draco raised his wand, intent on stopping them. But Barty Crouch Jr. was already ready for that.
"Look forward to it—the day our Master returns!"
"Then you'll all understand... the greatness of the Dark Lord!"
Draco's spell struck the body Crouch had thrown in front of him, but it was too late.
In that brief moment of interference, Barty Crouch Jr. and the Death Eaters vanished, the air where they had stood rippling with residual magic.
And just as they disappeared, the long-delayed Aurors finally arrived at the scene.
Their voices barked out in unison:
"Drop your wand!"
"Don't move! Don't turn around!"
"State your identity!"
The shouts echoed through the night, sharp and commanding. Draco could feel the prickling sensation of wands aimed squarely at his back.
But his expression remained calm—eerily so.
Inside, his thoughts were ice-cold, edged with irritation.
I expected this... but it's still damn annoying.
The seemingly steady flow of magic around him began to stir again, like the quiet build of a gathering storm.