Draco Malfoy's face instantly turned pale. He wanted to say something, but no words came out.
He saw his father nod to his mother before turning and walking away. Mr. Goyle was waiting not far off, and the two men joined up, circled around a tent, and quickly disappeared from view.
A moment later, Draco felt a tight grip on his wrist—Narcissa had grabbed his hand and was quickly pulling him toward the forest.
He looked up and saw his mother's face unusually pale, it was almost glowing white in the dark. Her fingers holding his hand were ice cold.
"Mum…" Draco couldn't help but whisper, "Are they… are they going to kill someone?"
Draco was not a particularly brave or ruthless person. Even saying the word "kill" made his voice drop lower, tinged with a hint of fear.
"No, they won't." Narcissa glanced at her son. "They wouldn't go that far… It's probably just… just to mess around a little…"
But as she remembered the methods Death Eaters had used against Muggles more than a decade ago, Narcissa couldn't suppress a shiver.
Even if no one died, the torture itself was often worse than death.
Still, as long as no one was killed, it wouldn't be as serious. The Ministry of Magic could cover it up without much trouble.
"But… you look really scared," Draco said, gripping her cold hand tighter.
"You don't understand… I'm not afraid of what your father's going to do…" Narcissa replied.
"Then what is it?" Draco asked.
But Narcissa pressed her lips into a tight line and refused to say more, she just pulled Draco forward more urgently.
Suddenly, Draco thought he caught a glimpse of a shadow out of the corner of his eye—something black, as large as a bear.
He quickly turned his head, but only saw a shape slip behind a nearby tent. It looked like… a very large dog.
Draco opened his mouth to tell his mother, but at that moment, he caught sight of a small goblin-like creature falling onto the clover-covered top of a tent. It clutched its face and struggled silently, and its expression twisted in pain and horror as its body began to grow.
Tonight's campsite seemed to be filled with all kinds of monsters.
Draco shuddered and didn't dare look anymore. He lowered his head and quickened his pace, just hoping to get as far away from the campsite as possible.
A few golden or green sparks suddenly shot into the sky and exploded into brilliant fireworks, scattering light across the clouds. The pitch-black night sky was transformed into a dazzling canvas of color.
Joyful singing rang out from the camp, accompanied by enormous bonfires and people dancing around them. Everyone celebrated in their own way—many of them weren't even Ireland fans, yet still couldn't resist joining the festivities.
With his back turned to all the lights and cheer, Draco followed his mother toward the dark forest, and their footsteps never slowed.
For some reason, the forest seemed especially far away tonight… Perhaps, when a person is nervous, even time itself begins to slow…
Draco was brooding over this thought when his mother suddenly said with alarm, "Something's wrong."
"What?" Draco asked.
Narcissa crouched down, scooped up a handful of ash, rubbed it between her fingers, then stood up and looked around, clearly shocked.
"What is it?" Draco asked uneasily.
"This place used to be a forest… We should already be inside the forest…" Narcissa said with a trembling voice.
Draco's breath caught. He stared at his mother in fear, then looked around at the wide, flat, open ground surrounding them.
—What happened here? Why did this whole stretch of forest disappear?
"Move!" Narcissa trembled slightly, then pulled her son and strode toward the surviving part of the forest.
Her expression was so tense that it had frozen into a complete lack of emotion—she looked like a statue carved from ice, striding through the darkness.
…
Sirius, in his Animagus form as a black dog, swished his tail and followed the mother and son for a short distance. Once he saw they were no longer speaking, he turned and headed in the direction Lucius Malfoy had gone.
Fortunately, the so-called aristocratic grace of that family included using perfume. Lucius Malfoy had sprayed a distinct scent on himself, making him easy to track.
"Plop!"
Something dropped onto the black dog's head, startling him.
He jumped up and turned his head to see a leprechaun rolling around on the ground. He bared his teeth but didn't pay it much mind, and simply stepped over the little creature.
Irish leprechauns are magical beings similar to fairies—low intelligence, generally harmless, though they are more ill-tempered and far less cute. Sometimes they behave in very odd ways from a human point of view.
Sirius pricked his ears, and his nose twitched as he sniffed the surrounding air.
Before long, he spotted his target. He skidded to a stop and ducked into hiding.
Ahead, seven or eight wizards had gathered. They wore hoods and masks on their faces. They silently slipped away from the crowds and headed toward the edge of the camp.
More and more people joined them—masked, silent. No one spoke, but the air buzzed with a manic, restless energy.
They reached a stone cottage at the camp's edge. One of them pointed a wand, and the locked door swung open.
Two wizards went inside. A moment later, they came back out and muttered, "The house is empty—the Muggle caretaker is gone!"
The others froze. Then two more wizards went in, did a quick sweep, and nodded in confirmation. The previous two weren't lying.
The black dog grinned silently.
"What now?" one heavy-voiced man asked. "Do we go look for another caretaker?"
"What if none of the Muggles are in their houses?" another said sharply. "Find a different target… a Mudblood would do."
The black dog ground his teeth—he could tell even through the lowered voice that the one speaking was Lucius.
The group huddled closer together, murmured briefly, and then turned back toward the main part of the camp.
The celebration was still going on—singing, dancing, bonfires—but some families with young children were getting ready to sleep. One couple, cradling a baby, walked toward their tent and spotted the oddly dressed cluster of wizards. Alarmed, they quickly ducked inside.
"There's one!" one of the masked wizards shouted, pointing at a passerby. "Bobby Suarez—he's a Mudblood!"
The man named—about forty years old—froze when he heard the word Mudblood. His face turned red with rage, and he whirled around, shouting, "F—"
He was cut off by the sight of a dozen wands pointed straight at him.
His expression turned to sheer terror. He spun to run, but an invisible force caught him and lifted him into the air, dragging him upward helplessly.
"Expelliarmus!"
A spell hit Suarez, and his wand flew from his hand, landing who knows where.
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⭐Harry Potter: Becoming a Study God (HP:BSG)- 200+ Chapters
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