Draco Malfoy's face turned pale immediately, wanting to say something but unable to do so.
He saw his father nod to his mother and then turn to leave. Goyle's father was waiting not far away; the two of them met, walked around a tent, and quickly disappeared.
Immediately afterward, Draco's wrist was gripped tightly, and he was pulled by Narcissa toward the forest at a brisk pace.
He looked up to see his mother's unusually pale face, almost glowing in the night, and her fingers holding his were icy cold.
"Mom…" Draco couldn't help but ask in a low voice, "Could it be… that Dad will… will kill someone?"
Draco was not a particularly brave or ruthless person, and mentioning "killing" made him lower his voice further, with a hint of fear.
"No, he won't." Narcissa glanced at her son. "They won't take things that far… it should just be… just a prank…"
Recalling the methods Death Eaters used against Muggles more than a decade ago, Narcissa involuntarily shivered.
Even if they didn't kill, undergoing such torment was no better than death.
But as long as no one was killed, the nature of the matter wasn't as serious, and the Ministry of Magic could easily cover it up.
"But you look very scared…" Draco said, tightening his grip on the cold hand.
"You don't understand… what I fear isn't what your father plans to do…" Narcissa said.
"Then what is it?" Draco pressed on.
But Narcissa pressed her lips tightly together, refusing to say more, only pulling Draco forward.
Suddenly, Draco thought he caught a glimpse of a black silhouette in the corner of his eye, resembling a bear.
He quickly turned his head, only to see a shadow slip past the back of a tent, seemingly a large dog.
Draco opened his mouth, wanting to tell his mother about his discovery, when he suddenly saw a leprechaun fall onto the clover-covered tent top, silently struggling with its face covered, its expression growing increasingly grim and pained, its body seemingly enlarging.
The campsite tonight seemed filled with many strange creatures.
Draco shivered, dared not look again, lowered his head, and quickened his pace, hoping to get as far away from the campsite as possible.
A few golden or green spots of light soared straight into the sky, then exploded with a bang, and the brilliant light of fireworks scattered among the clouds, turning the pitch-black night sky colorful.
Joyful songs rang through the campsite, along with huge bonfires and people dancing around them, celebrating in various ways, even though many weren't fans of the Ireland Team, they couldn't help but join in.
Draco turned his back on those lights and joys, following his mother, his feet continually leading him toward the pitch-black forest.
For some reason, the forest tonight seemed particularly distant… maybe because when people are tense, time seems to slow down...
Draco thought gloomily. Suddenly, he heard his mother say cautiously, "Something's not right."
"What?" Draco asked.
Narcissa crouched down, grabbed a handful of ash with her hands, rubbed it between her fingers, and then stood up, looking around in astonishment.
"What's wrong?" Draco asked nervously.
"This was originally the forest… we should already be inside it…" Narcissa said, her voice trembling.
Draco held his breath, looked fearfully at his mother, then at the surrounding vast and flat land.
— What happened here? Why had this large area of the forest disappeared?
"Quick, let's go!" Narcissa shivered, pulling her son, taking big steps toward the surviving forest, her expression tight and devoid of emotion, looking like a statue carved from ice in the darkness.
...
Sirius, wagging his tail, followed the mother and son for a short distance, seeing they were no longer talking, then turned to pursue in the direction Lucius Malfoy had left.
Thanks to this family's so-called noble manners and style, Lucius Malfoy had also sprayed some perfume on himself, and the scent was quite distinctive, making tracking easy.
"Splat!"
Something fell on the black dog's head, startling him.
The black dog jumped up, turned his head to look, and saw a leprechaun rolling on the ground. He bared his teeth, didn't care, and stepped directly over the little thing.
Irish leprechauns are like fairies, a kind of magical creature with low intelligence and little danger, but they are more irritable and not as cute, sometimes doing things that are quite bizarre to humans.
Sirius perked up his ears, raised his tail, sniffed the surrounding air.
Before long, he saw the person he was looking for, suddenly stopped, and hid to the side.
Around seven or eight wizards seemed to have gathered there, all wearing hoods and masks, quietly leaving the crowd, heading for the edge of the campsite.
The crowd grew more and more, with many masked wizards silently joining in, everyone not talking to each other, but a sense of madness and agitation filled the air.
They walked to the stone house at the edge of the campsite, pointed their magic wands, and the locked door opened.
Two wizards went inside, came out soon after, and whispered, "The house is empty, that Muggle administrator is gone!"
Everyone was stunned, then two more wizards went in for a look around, nodded, and confirmed that the previous two hadn't lied.
The black dog grinned, silently laughing.
"What now?" someone in the crowd asked dumbly, "Should we look for other administrators?"
"What if those Muggles aren't in their houses either?" someone else said decisively, "Let's change the target… a Mudblood would do."
The black dog ground his teeth— even with a deliberately lowered voice, he could tell, the one speaking was Lucius.
The group tacitly gathered, stood on the spot discussing for a moment, then turned and headed for the campsite.
The celebrating crowd was still singing and dancing, but some families with children were getting ready to sleep; a couple with a child walked to their tent, spotted those oddly dressed wizards huddled together, and quickly ducked into the tent feeling frightened.
"That guy!" someone among the masked wizards pointed at a passerby and shouted, "Bobby Suarez, he's a Mudblood!"
The wizard who was named, in his forties, flew into a rage upon hearing the word "Mudblood" and immediately turned to curse, "Fuck…"
A dozen magic wands came into view.
The man was terrified out of his wits, turned, and ran, only to be lifted uncontrollably high into the air as if pulled by invisible ropes.
"Expelliarmus!"
A spell hit Suarez, and his magic wand flew out, landing who-knows-where.