As the last of the celebratory fireworks fizzled out, a triumphant and slightly tipsy Mr. Weasley declared it was time to head back to the tents. They descended from the Top Box, swept up in the massive, joyful river of celebrating Irish supporters.
"We'll see you back at school!" Daphne called out, giving Ariana and Hermione a quick, elegant wave. She took Astoria's hand firmly in her own. "Come on, little sister. Father will be waiting." She guided Astoria away, melting into a different stream of the crowd heading towards the more opulent section of the campsite.
The atmosphere in the main camp was one of pure, unrestrained revelry. Bonfires roared, music blared, and wizards and witches danced and sang, their faces lit with joy. The Weasleys, Harry, and Sirius were caught up in the mood, laughing and joking as they navigated the happy chaos.
Ariana and Hermione walked slightly behind them, observing the scene. But Ariana's senses, always attuned to the subtle shifts in the magical atmosphere, began to detect a discordant note beneath the joyous symphony. A low, ugly thrum of malice. A pocket of dark, predatory magic beginning to coalesce on the far side of the field.
"Something is wrong," she said quietly to Hermione, her hand instinctively moving closer to the wand holster on her arm.
Her warning came too late. A sudden, collective scream ripped through the night, followed by the sound of explosions. Panic erupted. The joyous crowd transformed into a stampeding, terrified mob. Tents were being blasted apart. Green and purple jets of light shot through the darkness.
From the woods at the edge of the campsite, a group of figures emerged. They were marching in a tight formation, their faces hidden by pointed hoods and grotesque masks. They were Death Eaters. They were not killing, but terrorizing, levitating a terrified family of Muggles—the campsite manager and his wife and children—and spinning them through the air like grotesque puppets, their wands pointed at them like cruel jokes.
"Death Eaters!" Mr. Weasley yelled, his face pale. "Fred, George—you get Ginny and get to the woods! Go! We'll find you! Sirius, Remus, with me! Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ariana—run!"
In the ensuing chaos, the group was instantly shattered. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were swept away by a wave of fleeing wizards. Sirius, Remus, and Mr. Weasley charged towards the Death Eaters, their own wands blazing.
Ariana, however, found herself separated, moving in a different direction. She moved with a preternatural calm, her mind assessing the situation, her eyes scanning for her friends. It was then that she heard a small, terrified cry nearby.
"Daphne!"
It was Astoria. In the panic, she had been knocked down and separated from her sister. She was huddled at the base of a large oak tree, her face white with terror as three masked Death Eaters broke away from the main group and began to advance on her, their wands raised, their laughter cruel and mocking. They had spotted a lone, vulnerable pure-blood child. An easy target for their sport.
"Well, well, what have we got here?" one of them sneered. "A little songbird, lost from her nest."
Ariana did not hesitate. There was no time for a plan, no time for logic. There was only the immediate, absolute imperative to protect a child who was under her care. She moved, a blur of motion, placing herself directly between the advancing Death Eaters and the terrified Astoria. "Leave her alone," she said. Her voice was not a shout. It was a low, cold, and utterly commanding statement that cut through their mocking laughter like a shard of frozen steel.
The three Death Eaters stopped, surprised. They saw a lone, slender, blonde girl standing before them, her expression one of absolute, unwavering calm. They laughed.
"Look at this," the leader sneered. "Another little Gryffindor playing hero. What are you going to do, girl? Throw makeup charms?"
Ariana didn't answer with words. Her Elder wand was already in her hand. The battle was over before it even began.
Stupefy.Incarcerous.Impedimenta.
The spells left her wand in a silent, lightning-fast sequence. Three distinct bolts of silver-white light, each aimed with perfect precision. The first Death Eater's eyes rolled back as he was hit with a Stunning Spell so powerful it bypassed his magical resistance entirely. The second was instantly bound head-to-toe in thick, conjured ropes, crashing to the ground, immobile. The third was hit with a full-body Impediment Jinx that froze him in place, his jeering expression locked on his masked face.
It took less than five seconds. Three fully grown, dark wizards, neutralized by a fourteen-year-old girl with a terrifying, silent efficiency.
She didn't spare them a second glance. She turned to Astoria, who was staring at her, her eyes wide with a mixture of terror and utter, boundless awe. Ariana knelt down, her expression softening.
"It is alright, Astoria," she said gently. "You are safe." She cast a quick, shimmering shield charm around the two of them as stray curses flew overhead. "Stay with me."
It was at that moment that a new, more profound terror gripped the campsite. A great, booming voice, magically amplified, roared from the woods.
"MORSMORDRE!"
A jet of brilliant green light shot high into the sky. It exploded, forming a colossal, shimmering skull composed of emerald stars, a great serpent protruding from its mouth like a grotesque tongue.
The Dark Mark.
The symbol of Lord Voldemort.
The sight of it broke the Death Eaters' revelry. Their cruel sport forgotten, they immediately Disapparated with sharp cracks, vanishing into the night. The terrorized Muggles fell to the ground, unharmed but deeply traumatized. Silence descended upon the field, a silence even more terrifying than the chaos it had replaced. Everyone, from the Ministry wizards to the fleeing families, stared up at the ghastly green symbol hanging in the sky like a malevolent moon.
Ministry wizards began to Apparate into the clearing, their wands drawn, shouting and casting stunning spells in every direction.
The night was far from over. The investigation into who had cast the Dark Mark was just beginning, and the wizarding world had just been served a chilling reminder that even in their moments of greatest celebration, the shadow of the past was always waiting to return. And Ariana, standing amidst the smoldering tents and the lingering fear, knew that her quiet summer of study was officially over.