Right Now Could Last Forever

“Don’t tell your mother you’ve been gambling,” Mr Weasley implored Fred and George, as we all made out way slowly down the purple-carpeted stairs.

“Don’t worry, Dad,” said Fred gleefully, “we’ve got big plans for this money, we don’t want it confiscated.”

Mr Weasley looked for a moment as though he was going to ask what these big plans were, but seemed to decide, upon reflection, that he didn’t want to know.

We were soon caught up in the crowds now flooding out of the stadium and back to their campsites. Raucous singing was borne towards us on the night air as we retraced our steps along the lantern-lit path, and leprechauns kept shooting over our heads, cackling and waving their lanterns. When we finally reached the tents, nobody felt like sleeping at all and, giving the level of noise around us, Mr Weasley agreed that we could all have one last cup of cocoa together before turning in. We were soon arguing enjoyably about the match; Mr Weasley got drawn into a disagreement about cobbing with Charlie, and it was only when Ginny fell asleep right at the tiny table and spilled hot chocolate all over the floor that Mr Weasley called a halt to the verbal replays, and insisted that everyone went to bed. Hermione, Ginny and I all left for the next tent, and we quickly got changed before hopping into bed. From the other side of the campsite we could still hear much singing, and the odd echoing bang.

I was lying in bed, staring up at the canvas ceiling of the tent, watching the glow of an occasional leprechaun lantern flying overhead, and picturing again those shot few moments with Krum. The clutched the Golden Snitch in my hand, as I pictured myself on my Firebolt again. I could imagine the sensation of hearing a hundred-thousand-strong crowd roar, as Ludo Bagman’s voice echoed throughout the stadium, “I give you... Samuels!”

I sat up with a start in my bed. The singing had stopped. Instead I could hear screams, and the sound of people running; something was wrong. I slide out of my bed and quickly got changed. Hermione and Ginny were just waking up as I slipped out of the tent. Harry and Ron were just getting out of their tent as well.

“What’s going on?” I asked them.

“Dunno,” said Ron.

By the light of a few fires that were still burning, I could see people running away into the woods, fleeing something that was moving across the field towards us, something that was emitting odd flashes of light, and noises like gunfire. Loud jeering, roars of laughter and drunken yells were drifting towards us; then came a burst of strong green light, which illuminated the scene.

A crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wands pointed straight upwards, was marching slowly across the field. I squinted at them... they didn’t seem to have faces... then I realised that their heads were hooded and their faces masked. High above us, floating along in mid-air, four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes. It was as though the masked wizards on the ground were puppeteers, and the people above them were marionettes operated by invisible strings that rose from the wands into the air. Two of the figures were very small.

More wizards were joining the marching group, laughing and pointing up at the floating bodies. Tents crumpled and fell as the marching crowd swelled. Once or twice I saw one of the marchers blast a tent out of his way with his wand. Several caught fire. The screaming grew louder.

The floating people were suddenly illuminated as they passed over a burning tent, and I recognised one of them – Mr Roberts, the campsite manager. The other three looked as though they might be his wife and children. One of the marchers below flipped Mrs Roberts upside-down with his wand; her nightdress fell down to reveal voluminous drawers; she struggled to cover herself up as the crowd below her screeched and hooted with glee.

“That’s sick,” I muttered, watching the smallest Muggle child, who had begun to spin like a top, sixty feet above the ground, his head flopping limply from side to side. “That is really sick...”

Hermione and Ginny came hurrying towards us, pulling coats over their nightdresses, with Mr Weasley right behind them. At the same moment, Bill, Charlie and Percy emerged from the boys’ tent, fully dressed, with their sleeves rolled up and their wands out.

“We’re going to help the Ministry,” Mr Weasley shouted over all the noise, rolling up his own sleeves. “You lot – get into the woods, and stick together. I’ll come and fetch you when we’ve sorted this out!”

Bill, Charlie and Percy were already sprinting away towards the oncoming marchers; Mr Weasley tore after them. Ministry wizards were dashing from every direction towards the source of the trouble. The crowd beneath the Roberts family was coming ever closer.
“C’mon,” said Fred, grabbing my hand and starting to pull me towards the woods. Harry, Ron, Hermione and George followed, Ginny clutching his hand. We all looked back as we reached the trees. The crowd beneath the Roberts family was larger than ever; I could see the Ministry wizards trying to get through it to the hooded wizards in the centre, but they were having great difficulty. It looked as though they were scared to perform any spell that might make the Roberts family fall.

The coloured lanterns that had lit the path to the stadium had been extinguished. Dark figured were blundering through the trees; children were crying; anxious shouts and panicked voices were reverberating around us in the cold night air. I felt myself being pushed hither and thither by people whose faces I could not see; but still I held tightly onto Fred’s hand.

Harry, Ron and Hermione were soon nowhere to be seen, though the path was packed with plenty of other people, all of them looking nervously over their shoulders towards the commotion back at the campsite. Fred and George lit their wands, so we could see where we were going.

“Where are they?” I said to Fred, while we jogged next to George and Ginny.

“I don’t know,” he said. “They’ll be fine though.”

“This way,” George shouted at us, over all the noise.

We were off the path, down what seemed to be an over grown old hiking track. In the light of the twins’ wands, we managed not to trip over any stray branches or roots, and we were soon standing in a small meadow.

As soon as we came to a standstill, I felt my legs give way, letting me fall down onto the dark, damp earth. I pulled my knees up to my chest; where were Harry, Ron and Hermione? Where they alright? In the distance, I could still hear screams. I heard Ginny start to cry a little.

“It’s going to be alright” George assured her, while Fred sat down beside me, “we’ll go back in about twenty minutes...”

“You OK?” Fred said.

I nodded. “Just a little shocked.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

George managed to reassure Ginny pretty quickly and we all sat huddled together in the cool night air. The screams soon died away, but the worries in my head still spun around.

“I reckon we could go back now,” George said, looking at the round-about direction of the campsite.

“It’s been quiet for a while,” I agreed, and seeing the worried look on Ginny’s face added; “The Ministry will’ve gotten rid of them by now.”

We got up and walked back down the old track. There was only the sound of our feet crunching the ground bellow us as we walked; nobody talked, not even Fred or George tried to crack a joke. Soon we reached the main path. In the sky, was a green, glittering colossal skull, composed of what looked like emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. It seemed familiar, but I didn’t have time to stand a think about it, as Fred grabbed my arm and dragged me away towards the tent.