~Chapter 2- The Match and the Mark~

Now we were back at the tent in the campsite. Outside, the Irish were celebrating and the leprechauns floated all over the grounds. Andromeda, Ted, Dora, and I sat at the table in the center of our tent playing Exploding Snap and discussing the game. It was getting really late and we were all tired. When Dora let out a huge yawn, Andromeda said it was time for us to go to bed.

I changed into my pajamas (just a Muggle sweat suit) and collapsed onto my bunk bed. I was pulling the covers back when a sudden sharp pain shot through my right wrist. I grabbed it and let out a moan as the sting began to ebb into a painful throbbing.

“Something wrong?” Ted asked me from his bunk.

“I’m fine, my wrist just started hurting,” I said as I rubbed the spot where it ached. I couldn’t think of any reason for it to be hurting because I knew I hadn’t injured it in any way.

“Something’s wrong,” Dora said. My wrist hurt too badly to take in her words, but once the pain subsided I realized what she meant. Outside the tent we could hear people running around and screaming in panic as human silhouettes and shadows of shooting spells appeared to fly across the tent wall.

“What’s going on?” I inquired as Andromeda crossed the tent and looked outside. “Is everything all right?”

“Oh, no…” she said. “Girls, grab a jacket and get to the woods! Stay together and keep your wands close!”

Fear flooded me as I pulled a jacket over my sweatshirt. Dora jumped down from the bunk above mine and grabbed my arm. She pulled me out of the tent and into the campsite.

“Dora, what’s—”

“I don’t know, but it must be serious. Come on, we need to get to the woods.”

We began to run through the campsite, and I realized what was wrong—many tents were burning and being blasted out of the way as four people were hovering in the air above a group of hooded figures. The floating people seemed to be twisting into abnormal shapes by the people in hoods. Then the most terrifying sight of all was blasted into the air: the outline of a bright green skull with a serpent as a tongue.

“Dora, what in Merlin’s name is that?” I asked, terrified.

“I’ll explain in a minute,” she said quickly, gasping for breath. “For now…the woods…”

She continued to dash towards the woods; I followed, striving to keep up. We reached the edge of the forest, a mass of tall trees and murky blackness. I felt myself being yanked by the arm into it.

“Ow!” Dora’s voice cried out. I felt her weight pulling me to the ground. A second later I had landed on top of her. “Sorry, I tripped over a tree stump.”

I stood up and reached in my pocket for my wand as I heard Dora swearing about not being able to find hers.

“This is stupid,” I muttered, and holding my wand up I said, “Lumos!”

The tip of my wand illuminated the space where I stood. Dora was still on the ground, feeling around for hers. I saw the stump she had tripped over, and right next to it was…

“There’s your wand,” I told her, shining my light on it.

“Thanks,” she told me as she picked it up and lit the tip of it as well. She got to her feet. “Come on, we should go a bit farther.”

I followed her again and began to ask the questions that had recently flooded my mind.

“Dora, what was going on? Who were those people and what were they doing? And what was that…that thing in the air?”

Dora sat down. “Here should be good…” she muttered to herself. Then, turning to me, she said, “Listen, Lyra. That was the Dark Mark, and those people were—”

“The Dark Mark?” I interrupted. I couldn’t help but ask numerous questions. “What’s that?”

She sighed and looked me in the eyes. I was shocked to see the fear in her face. “The Dark Mark…is his mark.”

“His mark…you don’t mean…?”

“Yes. And it hasn’t been seen for thirteen years.”

“But what does it mean? Does it mean he—the Dark Lord—Dora, were those people Death Eaters?”

“Yes. They had to be. And I think those people in the air were Muggles—the family that owns this campsite. The Death Eaters thought they’d play a little joke and toss them into the air.” She shook her head. “It’s awful.”

“But…the Dark Lord can’t be returning, can he? I mean, for all we know, he could be dead.”

“I don’t think he’s dead, Lyra, or else those people wouldn’t be sending the sign into the air. And…” She looked at me in a scolding manner. “Please don’t call him the Dark Lord. Only Death Eaters call him that.”

I looked away from her, resisting the urge to say, ‘Well, my parents are Death Eaters.’ Instead a thought hit me and I said, “Dora, do all the Death Eaters know when something like this happens? Even if they can’t be there?”

“They might,” she said. “They all have the Dark Mark on their wrists, and they can summon him if they touch it, and I think they can all feel it, but I’m not sure. They burn it into their skin…”

But I didn’t catch what she said after that, because my mind drifted back to her other words: They all have the Dark Mark on their wrists…

“Dora,” I said.

“Yes?”

“You said they burn this mark into their wrist?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think—my wrist hurt back at the tent—do you think that had anything to do with it? Could I feel it? I mean, surely I couldn’t, because I don’t have the Mark…but since both of my parents do, I mean—maybe—do you think?”

I was practically speaking my mind out loud. I pulled back my sweatshirt sleeve and examined my right wrist. There wasn’t a trace of anything there. I pulled the sleeve back over it, feeling stupid. Of course I didn’t have the Mark, and yet, I'd felt it…

“Dora, why could I feel it?”

“Lyra, I don’t think you felt it. If you don’t have it on your wrist, you shouldn’t be able to feel it. Maybe your wrist just happened to hurt at that time, and it was a coincidence.”

“It wasn’t a coincidence!” I exclaimed. “I know it wasn’t! I felt the Mark being touched!”

“Okay, if you say so. I don’t know, Lyra…burning the Mark into the skin is surely extremely Dark Magic…”

“I know it is, and that’s probably why I felt it! My parents both have the Mark, so because of that I can feel it! Like you said, it’s extremely Dark Magic!”

“You may be right,” she said, giving in, though I could tell she wasn’t totally convinced. “I guess. Hey, something’s going on over there!”

Sure enough, there were voices coming through the trees beyond. A group of about twenty people screamed Stunning spells, causing Dora and me to hear a series of bangs and shouts. A familiar voice yelled out, commanding them to stop.

“Should we go over there?” I asked Dora.

She hesitated for a second before she said, “Yeah. Maybe we’ll find out what’s going on.”

We walked to the clearing where several Ministry wizards surrounded a group of people: Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Arthur Weasley. I instantly realized that he was the one who had cried out. We were able to duck behind a cluster of trees and stay hidden from the large group, but we were still able to observe the scene.

A very official-looking man stepped up and asked who had conjured the Dark Mark.

“That’s Barty Crouch,” Dora whispered to me. “He’s head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation at the Ministry!”

Harry and Ron began to protest, claiming they hadn’t sent up the Mark, but Mr. Crouch wasn’t convinced. When asked where the Mark had come from, Hermione pointed to the exact spot where we were hiding.

“Dora, they’ll blame us!” I whispered as quietly as possible.

“Come on, let’s leave…” she said, slowly backing out of the trees. I followed her but tripped over something, fell backwards, and landed with a crash.

“Over there!” I heard Mr. Crouch say, and he began to stride toward the spot.

“Let’s go!” Dora whispered urgently, but I was busy staring at the thing I’d fallen over. Something was at my feet, something small, limp, and unconscious, wearing a filthy tea towel.

“Is that a house-elf?” I whispered. I couldn’t be sure. I had never actually seen one before. Andromeda refused to have one at home because she was against house-elf enslavement.

“Yes. Now, let’s go!” Dora hissed, growing more impatient. I backed away from the elf body slowly so I wouldn’t make any sound.

I was too slow. A man appeared where we were and exclaimed, “Yes! We got them! There’s someone here!”

I began to run, but Dora said, “No!”

“Who is it?” Mr. Crouch asked.

“These two,” said the man. “They were in the trees! Hang on…” He looked closer at Dora and said, “You’re Nymphadora Tonks, aren’t you? From the Auror office?”

“Yes,” Dora replied. “And this is my sister. We were just hiding in the woods when we saw the Mark outside.”

“You have been discovered at the scene of the crime!” Mr. Crouch said. “Which of you did it?”

“Barty,” Mr. Weasley said, “Nymphadora is an Auror. Do you really think she would have conjured the Mark?”

“She could be a spy for all we know!” he said. “I wouldn’t doubt it after tonight’s events! Maybe she’s using Polyjuice Potion! Does anybody have some Veritaserum?”

“Wait!” Dora said. “Watch this.” She screwed up her eyes and turned her hair brown. “See? I’m a Metamorphmagus. If I was using Polyjuice Potion, I couldn’t have changed my appearance!”

“She’s right,” the other guy admitted. “We know she didn’t do it, but what about the other one?”

“Amos, do you really think she could have conjured the Mark right under her sister’s nose?” Mr. Weasley asked.

“I’m sure the person who sent it has already Disapparated. We probably don’t have a chance of catching them now.” The other guy, Amos, sighed and stepped back, but Mr. Crouch walked up to me with his wand pointed at my throat and said, “You!”

“What?” I asked as I swallowed nervously. I could guess what he was about to say.

“You! You’re—you look—you’re—”

I was right, of course. But before I could say anything, Mr. Crouch said blurted, “The Lestranges! Look at her! Her eyes! Her hair!”

“They’re my aunt and uncle!” I said angrily, fighting the urge to stomp my foot and storm off, or else hit Mr. Crouch with a nice Stunning spell. “Of course I look like them; they’re my relatives! That doesn’t mean I conjured the Mark!”

“She has a fair point,” the guy called Amos said. “The Lestranges don’t have children, do they? No, this is the Tonks’ daughter, Barty.”

Mr. Crouch still looked at me with his wand raised, then lowered it slowly but continued to stare into my eyes with a slight glare. Then I saw his glance shift and he stepped over to the spot where I’d tripped a minute ago, the spot where the unconscious house-elf lay.

He went distraught; I didn’t know why. But Dora answered my unasked question. “That’s his elf,” she whispered into my ear as Mr. Diggory and Mr. Crouch discussed this situation, which was apparently more serious than I realized.

“We should get back,” Dora said quietly. “There’s no point in hanging around any longer.” She turned around and tramped back toward the campsite. I followed reluctantly. I was desperate to find out who had sent up that terrible green skull-and-serpent design.

“Dora, can’t we go back and find out who did it?”

“No. Trust me, they won’t find out. That poor elf will probably be blamed for someone else’s crimes. Arthur Weasley was probably right—I’m sure the person who sent it into the air is long gone by now.”

“So you think they’re wasting their time with that house-elf?”

“Yes. Come on, let’s pick up the pace. Mum and Dad will want to know what happened.”

We arrived back at the tent. I climbed into bed again, but although it was late, I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep for some time. The pain in my wrist, the Mark, and the Death Eaters had shaken me. Everything was so strange. I had imagined Death Eaters but had never actually seen them. I knew their crimes were horrible, but I never knew that their actions or even their symbols could cause so much pandemonium…inside me.

I knew everyone else in the tent was asleep, so I decided to do something. I grabbed my bag off the floor and opened it. I pulled out a framed photograph that I had owned forever and always kept with me. Lighting my wand tip, I shined it on the picture. Two people stared back at me. Neither were smiling nor frowning—just looking out of the frame and moving slightly. One was a man, tall with brown hair and brown eyes, just like me. The other was a woman with shiny black hair and heavily-lidded eyes. She was beautiful. It was hard to imagine these two ever becoming Death Eaters.

I compared myself to them. My eyes were the exact same brown color as Bellatrix’s. My hair was much lighter than hers but a little darker than Rodolphus’s (though not by much). I looked at their wrists to see if I could spot the Mark, but they were concealed by their robe sleeves.

I sat back on my bed and sighed. Who was I? I’d never been able to answer that question. I didn’t agree with the Death Eater’s ways, but part of me wanted to believe what they did was right. I knew, deep down, that I only felt this way because of my parents. I never really wanted to try the Dark Arts, but curiosity played its part. A piece of me thought that experimenting with them would bring me closer to my parents, or at least help me understand them better.

I heard Dora stir from above me. She climbed down from her bunk so I hastily whispered, “Nox,” causing my wand tip to go out. I stuffed the photo under my pillow and pretended to sleep until Dora’s wand illuminated my face.

“Hey, I was sleeping!” I said against her bright light that was threatening to blind me.

“No, you weren’t. I saw your wandlight.”

I sighed. “Fine. But why are you up?”

“I’m thirsty,” she muttered. “What’s that?” She pointed to my pillow.

“Nothing,” I said. I pulled the covers over the spot where the photo stuck out. “There’s nothing there.” Dora pulled back the covers and picked up the photograph. She examined it with no apparent interest and handed it back to me.

“Listen, I know the Mark has you all shook up, but you really need to try to get some sleep. I know this is hard for you,” she added quickly as I opened my mouth to argue. “Maybe tomorrow the Ministry will know more.” Her doubtful tone didn’t reassure me. “Anyway, try to get some rest.”

I sighed and pulled the covers back again. I closed my eyes, still thinking about the Mark and my parents, but finally fatigue overtook me and I fell asleep. The last thing I remembered before drifting off was the serpent-and-skull mark blazing a fiery emerald green inside my head.