The two Dark wizards hastily raised their wands to cast Shield Charms, but the spells flying toward them easily tore through their defenses.
Harry's Stunning Spell blazed past the first Death Eater's head by mere inches, the wizard had thrown himself sideways. The red beam continued its trajectory and struck a nearby tent pole with a sharp crack, sending fragments of wood flying through the air.
But Adrian's Disarming Charm found its mark.
Whoosh—
His wand immediately flew from his hand, tracing an arc through the air before being caught steadily by Adrian.
The Dark wizard stumbled backward on his knees, his face filled with disbelief.
"We've failed!" His companion snarled with venomous frustration. "Retreat, now!"
The still-armed Death Eater lunged forward and grabbed his disarmed partner's arm with desperate urgency. Both figures began to twist in place, their bodies starting to compress and distort as they prepared to Disapparate from the scene of their botched assassination attempt.
With a sharp crack, both attackers vanished into thin air, leaving only the unpleasant smell of dark magic and burning wood as evidence of their presence.
"Damn it, they got away," Mr. Weasley muttered, his voice dense with frustration and the lingering effects of adrenaline.
His hands shook slightly as he lowered his wand, the reality of what had just occurred beginning to sink in with clarity.
Harry remained on the ground where his evasive roll had taken him, his chest was rising and falling in rapid, shallow breaths that spoke of both physical exertion and psychological shock. His entire body trembled with fine tremors that he couldn't seem to control.
The training sessions that Adrian had put him through over the past months had clearly served their purpose, his instinctive counterattack had been both swift and accurate, demonstrating reflexes that had likely saved both their lives.
But no amount of preparation could fully shield someone from the psychological impact of their first real brush with death.
He understood what those sickening green beams had represented. The Killing Curse was perhaps the most feared spell in the entire wizarding world, and with good reason.
If either of those streams of light had found their target, there would have been no second chances. Just death.
Even now, several minutes after the attack, Harry could still taste the metallic flavor that seemed to cling to the air around Unforgivable Curses. It was similar to the chill that accompanied Dementors, but somehow it was even worse.
The scent of death lingered around them like an invisible fog.
Adrian quickly stepped forward, immediately going to Harry's side and crouching down, putting an arm around his shoulder. "How are you, Harry?"
The rest of their group gathered around them in a protective circle, their faces showing varying degrees of worry, anger, and lingering fear.
Harry took a deep, shuddering breath, drawing strength from Adrian's steady presence and the concerned faces of his friends and family.
"I'm fine, Professor," He said trying to make his voice sound steady. "Just... processing what happened."
Perhaps it was Adrian's calming influence, or perhaps it was simply Harry's own remarkable resilience, but he could feel his trembling beginning to subside. Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet, accepting Adrian's hand for support.
In a strange way, having survived such a direct encounter with death had left Harry with an unexpected sense of clarity and calm.
"Who were those people?" Harry asked, his voice stronger now as curiosity began to replace the initial shock. "Why did they specifically target us?"
Families carrying children, elderly wizards supported by younger relatives, groups of friends desperately trying to stay together in the confusion, all of them were running from an unseen threat that was destroying their temporary homes.
The organized celebration that had been in the evening was disintegrating into complete pandemonium with terrifying speed.
Suddenly, a beam of blinding green light shot upward through the night sky like a malicious comet, its radiance casting everything it touched in the color of the Killing Curse. The light climbed higher and higher until it exploded in the darkness above the campsite with the force of a magical firework.
But this was no celebration.
Slowly, a colossal skull began to appear in the star-studded sky, its empty eye sockets seeming to stare down at the chaos below with malicious satisfaction.
The skull's jaw hung open in a silent scream, and from within that open mouth, an enormous serpent began to emerge. The snake wriggled and twisted as it squeezed out from the skull's mouth.
"Well," Adrian said with remarkable composure and shrugged. "It appears we've found the party responsible for tonight's festivities."
"What is that?"
Harry looked gravely and puzzledly at the mark in the sky, his hand involuntarily covering his forehead as his scar had begun to hurt. But soon, he realized something. In the past, his head only hurt when he saw Voldemort or things related to Voldemort.
So…
Mr. Weasley's voice trembled slightly as he provided the identification that everyone had been dreading. "That's the Dark Mark—You-Know-Who's personal symbol. His followers used to cast it above the homes of their victims during the war, marking the sites of their murders for all to see."
"Let's go take a look," Adrian said.
Mrs. Weasley's maternal instincts immediately rebelled against this proposal.
"Absolutely not!" she said firmly, her voice rising with protective anger. "There are children present, and we've already had quite enough danger for one evening. We should be moving away from that... that thing, not toward it!"
What followed was a brief but intense family argument. Mrs. Weasley's concerns were totally reasonable, they had already survived one assassination attempt, and deliberately walking toward the Dark Mark seemed like tempting fate beyond all rational limits.
But the others argued that understanding the scope of the threat was essential for their safety. If Death Eaters were operating throughout the campsite, they needed to know the extent of the danger they faced and what escape routes might still be available.
After several minutes of increasingly tense discussion, Mrs. Weasley finally surrendered to a compromise solution.
She would remain at a safe distance with Ginny, positioning themselves where they could retreat quickly if the situation deteriorated further. The rest of the group would go to investigate the source of the Dark Mark, but they would maintain constant communication and retreat immediately if they encountered any signs of organized Death Eater activity.
The group moved carefully through the transformed campsite, each person maintaining a firm grip on their wand while their eyes constantly scanned for signs of immediate threat.
The cheerful camping area that had welcomed them just hours earlier had become an apocalyptic landscape of burning canvas, abandoned belongings, and the lingering traces of dark magic.
Fires illuminated the night in irregular patches that made it difficult to distinguish between fleeing innocents and potential threats. The air was filled with smoke and the unpleasant smell of cursed flames.
Adrian's eye quickly picked out several suspicious figures moving through the chaos. These individuals seemed to be actively avoiding the areas where Ministry officials were attempting to restore order, instead focusing their attention on sections of the campsite where families were most vulnerable.
Whenever Adrian's group attempted to approach these suspicious figures for a closer look, the hooded people would immediately melt back into the shadows or Disapparate.
"Death Eaters," Adrian murmured grimly as yet another suspicious figure vanished just as they came within identification range. "They're coordinating this entire operation."
The group was forced to abandon their attempts at pursuit and instead focused on reaching the source of the Dark Mark, where hopefully some answers might be waiting.
After nearly ten minutes of careful navigation through the chaos, they finally arrived at the location where the Dark Mark had been cast.
To their surprise, a large crowd had already gathered at the scene. At least twenty or thirty witches and wizards stood in loose clusters.
Adrian recognized many familiar faces among the crowd, Ministry officials, Quidditch dignitaries, foreign visitors, and various other individuals who had been present at the match earlier in the evening. The gathering looked like a strange parody of the Top Box, with many of the same people who had been celebrating Ireland's victory now standing in shocked silence beneath the Dark Lord's mark.
Fudge stood near the center of the crowd, his appearance disheveled and his face bearing the signs of stress and rising panic. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead despite the cool night air, and his hands trembled slightly as he gestured while speaking to various subordinates.
Ludo Bagman was also present, though his usual boisterous enthusiasm had been replaced by a grim seriousness that aged his face by years. He stood whispering with a group of other officials.
"Ah, Adrian," Fudge called out as he spotted a familiar face in the crowd. "you're here too."
The Minister's expression was grave in a way that Harry had never seen before. As the host nation for the Quidditch World Cup, any major security failures would reflect directly on the British Ministry of Magic's competence and ability to maintain order.
The international wizarding community was watching, and what they were seeing tonight would have consequences that extended far beyond simple property damage or personal injuries.
"What's the current situation, Minister?" Mr. Weasley asked immediately, pointing at the Dark Mark in the sky.
"No one knows," Fudge said somewhat irritably. "Someone left this mark, apparently wanting to create some chaos. When we arrived, there was no one here."
"There were many Dark wizards in the camp, Minister," Adrian said calmly. "Two of them burned my tent and used the Killing Curse on Harry Potter and me. Fortunately, our luck was good, so we can talk with you here."
Fudge's face immediately became somewhat pale.
"The Killing Curse?" He said in horror. "You didn't see wrong?"
"I'm afraid there's no room for doubt," Mr. Weasley confirmed grimly. "We all witnessed the attack. Those were definitely Unforgivable Curses."
"How dare they—"
Just then, a cold, hard voice came from behind the crowd. "Is this true?"
Everyone made way, and Barty Crouch Sr. strode forward, his face terrifyingly grim which was understandable, as the Director of International Magical Cooperation and main person responsible for this Quidditch match, he might bear great responsibility for this disturbance.
"Did you see the face of the caster, sir?" He looked coldly at Adrian.
"They were wearing robes. Even the most incompetent criminal knows to hide their identity before doing bad things," Adrian shrugged, then took out a small stick. "But I got that person's wand."
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