Harry Potter :Diamond Heart

Time to head back to the tent, Arthur,' Mrs Weasley suggested. Her husband nodded, one eye still on the veela, half-enraptured, half-concerned about the conjured, blue flames in the hands of the more irate of the former cheerleaders.

There were a lot of steps down, the stadium was steep and high, and Harry was sure he hadn't walked up any where near as many on the way. He voiced as much to Hermione who turned, the glint of knowledge in her eye.

'It's a very clever space manipulation spell,' she enthused. 'You put your feet on a step and the space is stretched upwards so you actually go up much farther than you think. It's like a tiny magical escalator for each step really.'

'Means an awful lot of different sets of steps for different levels though,' Ron added grumpily. His attitude had deteriorated rapidly after the twins prediction of the result proved true, but he was right. There were almost ten times as many sets of stairs as he would have expected.

'It's brilliant, Ron,' Hermione began again, looking to be moving straight into her lecturing tone. Sure enough within moments she was explaining the runes and arithmetic principles behind the idea. Harry did, quite surprisingly, understand most of what she was saying, so it was with some relief that he could tune her out and leave Ron to weather the barrage of her intellect.

The tent was far more comfortable than he had expected. In the brief visit he remembered between separating from Cedric Diggory and his father and making their way to the top box he had only glimpsed the interior. Most of the journey had been spent trying to ignore the sickness caused by the portkey travel and Ron's incessant complaining about the perfect student that was Cedric Diggory. Cedric had seemed perfectly agreeable to Harry. The well known Hufflepuff was kind, intelligent and modest. His only flaw seemed to be proud parents, something Harry could hardly begrudge anyone as an orphan.

Well, maybe Malfoy, he decided. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy really had very little to be proud of in his opinion.

More interesting than the surprising comfort, or the increasingly frustrated attempts of Hermione to explain her references to Doctor Who as down to the same sort of spacial manipulation they had used on the tent, was the abundance of gold galleons that the twins seemed to be in possession of.

'Look at all this, Harrikins,' they grinned. 'Bagman bet against our prediction, gave us good odds too.'

'It ought to be enough now, Fred,' the twin wearing the jumper emblazoned with the letter F crowed triumphantly.

'Indeed it should, George,' his twin replied hurriedly shovelling armfuls into their trunks. 'Best get it out of sight before mum comes and sees we've been gambling, though.'

They both knelt down and started scooping the pile away. Harry snorted, and moved in the direction of his bed. It was still loud, fireworks were constantly exploding above the tents as the Irish celebrations began and he begun to grown uncomfortable with it again.

Harry passed a still arguing Ron and Hermione, Ginny had vanished into the girls' side of the tent and Mr and Mrs Weasley were quietly talking by the entrance. The three elder Weasleys had all vanished. Bill and Charlie, who he had yet to exchange more than a greeting with, had disappeared off to join the party and Percy had taken to trailing after Mr Crouch, his boss, like an adoring puppy. Percy seemed unaware that not only did Crouch not know his name, but most of their one-sided conversation was about the missing official, Bertha Jorkins. Mr Crouch did not seem overly upset she had vanished.

The part of the tent that he would be sharing with Ron was blessedly dark and far quieter than the rest. Settling himself down on the cot designated his he waved his wand over his clothes, transfiguring them into something more comfortable to sleep in. This was the sort of magic that Harry had come to appreciate of late. The everyday spells and enchantments that made everything so much easier even if they weren't as spectacular as a corporeal patronus or the more dramatic applications of conjuring and transfiguration seen in wizards' duels.

It was early for him to be sleeping, normally he would stay up into the early hours of the morning reading, but all the noise and action around him had inexplicably tired him out and there was nothing he wanted more than to sink into blissful sleep.

Something shook at his arm and he stirred, instantly alert in unfamiliar scenery. 'Harry,' Mr Weasley hissed. 'We need to leave now. Get Ron and Hermione and get out of the camp. Stay together.'

It took a long moment for the seriousness of the situation to sink in, but he nodded, rubbing at his eyes and fumbling for his glasses on the table next to him and his wand.

Ron was by the entrance of the tent with Hermione. They both looked slightly pale as they peered out into the camp through the door.

'Come on, Harry,' Hermione whispered urgently tugging at his arm. He frowned at her, pulling his arm away long enough to re-transfigure his clothing, annoyed at her closeness. The sound of screams from close by in the camp quickly made him forget about Hermione's grip on his arm and they fled from the tent towards the woods through the chaotic crowd.

There was smoke in the air from the burning tents in the camps' centre. It drifted, thick and choking over them and Harry had to duck beneath it to breath and see. People were running all around him in every direction, screaming, shouting and crying.

Flashes of light cast eerie shadows against the veil of smoke and the dull echo of explosions rang over the roar of the flames. Somewhere in the chaos Hermione had lost her grip on his arm, but he could still hear her shouting at them to run to the trees he could glimpse across the next few lines of tents.

Something hit him hard in the side of the head and with a flash of white light everything vanished.

Harry's face was warm. Too warm. It was uncomfortable and he immediately tried to shift away from the heat. A wet, sticky something adhered his cheek to his shoulder, but it broke when he flinched back from the heat.

His glasses were still on his face. Harry was so surprised he could see he almost didn't notice the flames that were engulfing the line of tents no more than a few metres from him. He scrambled to his feet. Ron and Hermione were gone, but he hoped they had made it to the trees and were safe.

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