Harry Potter 04 - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

he grinned happily as Troy and Quigley lifted the Cup into the air and the crowd below thundered their approval. Harry’s hands were numb with clapping.
    At last, when the Irish team had left the box to perform another lap of honour on their brooms (Aidan Lynch on the back of Connolly’s, clutching hard around his waist and still grinning in a bemused sort of way), Bagman pointed his wand at his throat and muttered ‘Quietus’.
    ‘They’ll be talking about this one for years,’ he said hoarsely, ‘a really unexpected twist, that … shame it couldn’t have lasted longer … ah yes … yes, I owe you … how much?’
    For Fred and George had just scrambled over the backs of their seats, and were standing in front of Ludo Bagman with broad grins on their faces, their hands outstretched.

 
     
— CHAPTER NINE —
     
The Dark Mark
    ‘ Don’t tell your mother you’ve been gambling,’ Mr Weasley implored Fred and George, as they all made their 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.
    They were soon caught up in the crowds now flooding out of the stadium and back to their campsites. Raucous singing was borne towards them on the night air as they retraced their steps along the lantern-lit path, and leprechauns kept shooting over their heads, cackling and waving their lanterns. When they finally reached the tents, nobody felt like sleeping at all and, given the level of noise around them, Mr Weasley agreed that they could all have one last cup of cocoa together before turning in. They 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 and Ginny went into the next tent, and Harry and the rest of the Weasleys changed into pyjamas and clambered into their bunks. From the other side of the campsite they could still hear much singing, and the odd echoing bang.
    ‘Oh, I am glad I’m not on duty,’ muttered Mr Weasley sleepily, ‘I wouldn’t fancy having to go and tell the Irish they’ve got to stop celebrating.’
    Harry, who was on a top bunk above Ron, lay staring up at the canvas ceiling of the tent, watching the glow of an occasional leprechaun lantern flying overhead, and picturing again some of Krum’s more spectacular moves. He was itching to get back on his own Firebolt and try out the Wronski Feint … somehow Oliver Wood had never managed to convey with all his wriggling diagrams what that move was supposed to look like … Harry saw himself in robes that had his name on the back, and imagined the sensation of hearing a hundred-thousand-strong crowd roar, as Ludo Bagman’s voice echoed throughout the stadium, ‘I give you … Potter !’
    Harry never knew whether he had actually dropped off to sleep or not – his fantasies of flying like Krum might well have slipped into actual dreams – all he knew was that, quite suddenly, Mr Weasley was shouting.
    ‘Get up! Ron – Harry – come on now, get up, this is urgent!’
    Harry sat up quickly and the top of his head hit canvas.
    ‘’S’matter?’ he said.
    Dimly, he could tell that something was wrong. The noises in the campsite had changed. The singing had stopped. He could hear screams, and the sound of people running.
    He slipped down from the bunk, and reached for his clothes, but Mr Weasley, who had pulled on his jeans over his own pyjamas, said, ‘No time, Harry – just grab a jacket and get outside – quickly!’
    Harry did as he was told, and hurried out of the tent, Ron at his heels.
    By the light of the few fires that were still burning, he could see people running away into the woods, fleeing something that was moving across the field towards them, something that was emitting odd flashes of light, and noises like gunfire. Loud jeering, roars of laughter and drunken yells were drifting towards them; then came a burst of strong green light, which illuminated the scene.
    A crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wands pointing straight upwards, was marching slowly