The week that followed Harry’s return to school and the revelations of Aurora’s past was a rather peaceful one. Students’ were looking to the approach of holidays with growing eagerness, and the Daily Prophet had brought little news of developments in the war. As far as most were concerned, it was better to have no news at all, than learn of more death and destruction. However, Harry noticed that with each morning that passed, Hermione read the morning paper with more and more anxiety.
“It’s just... there have been attacks everyday, either by the Death Eaters or the Sphinx Militia …” she explained Saturday morning. “…but since Monday, nothing’s happened.”
“Well, that’s good isn’t it?” Harry responded, not understanding how Hermione could be upset that people weren’t dying.
“Don’t you think it’s odd?” she explained. “It’s too quiet.”
“Like someone’s planning something.”
Harry and Hermione looked up in surprise at Ron, who had been silent so far.
“One group is remaining low-key, waiting to make their move,” he said slowly. “And the other side hasn’t attacked because there hasn’t been any hint of where their enemy is hiding, or when they’ll strike next.”
“Exactly. And this is just the calm before the storm,” Hermione finished.
Whatever it was being planned, and whichever side was planning it, Harry had a distinct feeling that it was going to be drastic, and it appeared both Ron and Hermione felt the same way; the three of them sat in a tense silence, not a single one touching their breakfasts. Finally, Harry’s thoughts wandered to a Potions essay that he had not yet begun, and decided to distract his attention to that.
“I have some work to finish,” he said. “I’ll see the both of you later.”
As he left, to his unpleasant surprise, he saw both Ron and Hermione separate from one another and leave to sit with other students “ Ron with the other Gryffindor seventh years, and Hermione with Luna and Siobhan, the latter of which appeared to be unaware that she was being spoken to at length about Heliopaths and Nargles, or that she even had a dining companion at all.
“I was talking to Siobhan yesterday…”
“Yeah, and?”
It was Sunday afternoon, and Hermione and Harry were walking from the library to the Great Hall for lunch. It had been another uneventful morning, news-wise, and Harry found that after the previous morning’s conversation, he was just as bothered by the eerie calm as Hermione had been.
“Well… you know her mum was murdered by the Sphinx Militia, but I found out that her dad has been in Azkaban since she was young “ obviously now he’s been transferred to the new prison system “ but, the thing is “ ”
“Why’s her dad been in Azkaban?” Harry interrupted.
“It’s a long story,” Hermione answered.
“How long of a story can it be? He committed a crime and was sent to jail. What did he do?”
“I don’t know “ Siobhan said it was a long story and didn’t elaborate on the matter. But, as I was saying, I think she’ll either be going home to an empty castle or staying here without anyone to talk to…”
“Well, I can’t invite her to Grimmauld Place if that’s what you’re suggesting. We can’t just go around letting people into Headquarters because we’re friends with them… Katie was only allowed come ‘cause her dad joined the Order…”
“Well, then why don’t you try listening before you jump to conclusions?” Hermione snapped. “I invited her to stay with me.”
“But you live with Katie,” Harry said quickly.
“Yes, and?” Hermione retorted. “Mr. Bell “ before he disappeared from the face of the planet “ told my mum and dad that the house was as much their home as it was his. I asked Libby, and I’m allowed invite Siobhan…”
“But you live with Katie…” Harry stressed.
“I don’t understand the problem.”
“What’s going on?” Ron asked as they sat down in front of him at the Gryffindor table.
“Hermione invited Siobhan to stay with her for Christmas!” Harry explained in an anxious hush.
“But… you live with Katie,” Ron said, looking at Hermione.
“Yes, I caught that “ but will one of you explain why it’s such an issue?” she asked in frustration, her mane of bushy hair bouncing as she threw her hands up at the pair of them. Ron simply laughed.
“You didn’t hear? Siobhan kissed Harry…”
“She “ what? When did this happen?”
“Halloween,” Harry shortly.
“And does Katie know?”
“Yes “ that’s the problem. If Siobhan steps one foot in Katie’s house, I imagine she’ll be throttled before she makes it to the sitting room.”
“Well, I can’t uninvite her,” Hermione said. “Libby already said it was fine.”
“Libby didn’t know she was signing Siobhan’s execution…”
“What am I going to do?!” Hermione said, finally sitting down and biting frantically on her lip.
“Well “ Katie’s been staying at Grimmauld Place a lot recently…” Harry began. “Though… that’s been because she was getting into fights with her dad. She said she’s planning on going back because Libby needs her… but… well, maybe I can convince her to stay?”
“Yes, that’s a brilliant plan,” Ron began mockingly. “Despite that she’ll know Siobhan’s at her house, and will probably go hex her anyway. Not to mention she’ll figure out why it is you want her to stay at headquarters…”
“I’d want her to stay with me anyway,” Harry said defensively.
“Still “ ”
Ron’s sentence was cut short as an owl, one of about two dozen that had entered the Great Hall, landed carefully in front of them carrying what appeared to be an issue of the Daily Prophet. A hush befell the hall as everyone looked towards the different recipients, Harry and Ron looking to Hermione as she paid her delivery owl and unfurled her own copy.
“Daily Prophet, Special Edition,” she read aloud to them, and a few other surrounding students. “Quidditch Massacre at Krum Park, 12 Dead, 60 Injured.
“This morning, a deadly attack by Death Eaters at Krum Park during a Quidditch match between the Manchester Manticores and Birmingham Basilisks has left 12 dead, 60 injured. According to witnesses, the incident appears to have been a response to recent actions by the organisation known as the ‘Sphinx Militia’ “ a message was left warning the rogue group to bring to an end to their agenda or suffer more civilian losses.
‘They attacked everyone: men, women and children,” match spectator Ramses Retheuse recounts. ‘All I could hear was screaming, and it was difficult to see anything, people were running in every direction, and there was blood and stunned bodies across the ground. It was terrifying.’
Names of the dead have not yet been released; all casualties have been admitted to St. Mungo’s, where they were transported by Portkey. Those wishing to find information on family members possibly killed or injured in the attack are requested not to visit St. Mungo’s as hospital staff will be busy attending to the influx of patients, and are instead asked to direct all queries of missing persons to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
“Bloody hell,” Ron said, the colour drained from his face.
“Krum Park “ isn’t that the new stadium in Manchester?” Harry asked.
“Yeah,” Seamus confirmed, looking aghast along with Dean and Neville.
“You don’t think “ Lupin?” Harry began, but Hermione consoled him.
“No, Harry, I doubt he’d be attending Quidditch matches… not something I’d say he’d be up for.”
Harry felt slightly mollified, but still couldn’t help but worry that someone else, perhaps a member of the Order, might have been one of the injured or killed.
“Oh my…” Hermione said, staring at another article on the front page of the prophet.
“What else?” Ron asked. “Was there another attack?”
“No “ it’s just… well, listen to this:
“As a result of today’s assault on the public, the Department of Magical Games and Sports in association with the French Ministry and International Confederation of Wizards has just announced the cancellation of next summer’s Quidditch World Cup, which was planned to be hosted in France.
‘It’s a risk we simply cannot take,’ the Department’s spokeswitch Athena Marius said. ‘Despite the high security measures surrounding all recent Quidditch matches, we were unable to prevent this tragedy. International Magical Ministries have decided that this attack is a sign that we simply cannot take chances with an international event of such high attendance.’
Despite the Confederation’s best intentions, some members of the wizarding community are not responding well to this cancellation.
‘They can’t cancel Quidditch!’ match spectator and Puddlemere United Reserve Keeper Oliver Wood said. ‘It’s as if we’re expected to sit at home in fear of our lives, rather than enjoy what we still have left. It’s an outrage, it’s horrendous…’
In severe contrast to Mr. Wood’s opinion, other witches and wizards are supportive of the choice to cancel the World Cup.
‘Innocent lives are at stake,’ match spectator and Auror Nymphadora Tonks said. ‘It’s not a chance we should be taking, and it would require a lot of international law enforcement officials to secure such a large event “ I believe we have enough to be going on with at the moment.’”
“Things are getting worse,” Neville said when she had finished. “I mean - cancelling the World Cup? That’s…”
“Drastic,” Ron finished for him.
“It was cancelled in the 1940’s when Grindelwald was in power,” Hermione informed them, the Prophet shaking her hands as she laid it on the table. “But not since, not even during Voldemort’s first reign.”
“They have to though, don’t they?” Seamus said. “It’s too dangerous, I can see why they wouldn’t want to risk it. Even the last World Cup…”
Harry remembered the Death Eaters that had paraded cruelly on the camp grounds at the previous World Cup, and how they had unknowingly helped Barty Crouch, Junior escape, ultimately enabling Voldemort to be rise again. Now, with their leader returned, increased ranks, and a greater purpose than sadistic amusement “ the World Cup certainly wasn’t going to be any safer from their attacks than it had been almost four years ago.
“And Tonks is right,” Hermione added. “Imagine how many Aurors they’d need “ even if the game isn’t attacked, everywhere else will be left significantly more vulnerable.”
“Not that Wood hasn’t got a point,” Ron said fairly, hastily adding ‘Not that I agree with him… just that, the Death Eaters’ll love this, won’t they? They want us all afraid for our lives, and now they have it. ‘World Cup cancelled, wizarding community lives in fear.’”
“And what about the Sphinx Militia, then?” Susan Bones said, making her presence known for the first time. “This could have happened later rather than sooner, but they’ve gone ahead and set this all in motion.”
There was a general murmur of agreement on all points as they looked down at the numbers printed in the blaringly bold headline: ‘…12 dead, 60 injured.’
Harry noticed some students were sobbing, a few even running in panic to the staff table. He imagined recent letters they might have read, casually informing them that their family members were going to be supporting Manchester or Birmingham that morning, and how ironically foreboding those messages must seem now.
In the meantime, next to Harry, Neville comforted Susan and Seamus had grasped Luna’s hand; Parvati and Lavender were crying softly together as they reread a copy of the article. Hermione trembled next to Ron, both sitting tensely as though trying to prevent themselves from leaning on the other. Finally, Ron wrapped his arm around her and pulled her head onto his shoulder where she rested still looking terror-stricken from the news.
“What happened?”
Harry turned and found Siobhan scanning the fearful faces of the Great Hall worriedly, clearly having been the last to arrive to lunch.
“The Death Eaters “ ” Harry said, picking up the paper and handing it to her. “Attacked spectators at a Quidditch Match.”
For a moment, she read, appearing unaffected. The paper then wilted in her hand as she sat down, staring blankly ahead.
“This is terrible…” she said, and then looked back at the article, her hand clenching the edge of the paper. “Bastards,” she hissed.
For a moment, Harry thought she might cry, but biting her lip, she stood up, muttered something about ‘writing to her brother’ and stalked off from the Great Hall, mixing in among the other black-robed students, leaving undoubtedly for the Owlery to send messages to their families. Harry echoed their actions, only he headed to Gryffindor Tower intead. He then proceeded straight to his dormitory and opened his notebook, to find a short, messy paragraph inside.
“I imagine you’ve received news of the Quidditch match. The Order managed to arrive during the incident; Moody was injured badly, we haven’t been able to identify what curse was used against him, and he’s still unconscious, we’re not sure if he’ll make it. Charlie also sustained an injury, but it was minor, and he’s fine. Sorry this is so rushed, but all the injured have been Portkeyed to St. Mungo’s and I have to report there now to assist the Healers, so I’m afraid I must leave this short. I love you - Katie.”
Harry wrote back a short message before closing the journal and stowing it away in his dresser once more and heading back downstairs to relay the news he’d received, that of Moody in particular, to Ron and Hermione.
He transcended the spiral staircase to find them entering through the portrait hole amongst a stream of other students, and he moved to the corner of the room, taking a seat and gesturing them towards him.
“I got a letter from Katie,” he said quickly as they joined him. “She said the Order was at the attack “ Moody’s been injured badly… they don’t know if “ if he’s going to make it.”
“Oh, no,” Hermione said, clapping her hands to her mouth. “And “ was anyone else hurt?”
“Charlie “ ” he began, and Ron turned green, “ “ but he’s fine, it was just minor.”
“But Moody,” Ron said, looking slightly relieved, but still upset, “He might “ die?”
Harry didn’t answer. He had only told them what Katie had said, and though he couldn’t confirm Ron’s question, it was the only logical conclusion. After a moment, he nodded. The three shared worried glances and Harry sat back in his chair, thinking of what this new development meant for him. Ron was right, the wizarding world were now living in fear, and it proved that the Voldemort was becoming more successful in his campaign; the sheer terror he and his followers were inflicting upon the community could only mean that they were slowly becoming the winning team.
It was as though someone had just sat very heavy stones on Harry’s chest, adding to the already heavy burden of responsibility and dread that lay upon him “ feeling more to be slowly pressing him to death.