The Choices We Make ∆ Harry Potter Sister

Chapter 3.3

Chaos. Complete, utter, chaos.

Eleanor Potter wished for nice summer break she could spend with her brother and her friends watching the Quidditch World Cup. She got her wish, she did, but she forgot to add a small detail in her wish - to do it peacefully. The match was mind blowing. Ireland wins even though Krum, the Bulgarian seeker, caught the snitch. It wasn't every day that a team won without catching the snitch. She knew that from first hand experience. She along with the Weasley children, her brother, and Hermione celebrated the win - singing obnoxiously off key and dancing like there was no tomorrow. That was until Mr. Weasley hushed them and ushered them to grab a jacket before running into the forest.

Chaos. Complete, utter, chaos.

She was running like she had never run before, and she clung to her brother for dear life. In the midst of the muggle camp-owner and his family being levitated and paraded like some sick joke, and masked men in black cloak roaming the camping ground, setting random things aflame, Ellie didn't dare to let go of her brother's hand. Not that he would ever do such thing. Harry James Potter might not be the brightest wizard there was, but he knew damn well that the masked men was the epitome of trouble. Harry had lost sight of the twins and their sister, and the fact that they had run into none other than Draco Malfoy only to have him pestering them in the already mad situation didn't help. Thankfully his own sister was still with him, hand in hand, and his best friends were in tow. By some miracle, they managed to get into a clearing mostly unharmed. He sat his sister down on a log to check if she was injured in anyway. He went for his wand to put a little light, only to be met by a wave of shock caused by his own idiocy.

"My wand!"

"You probably left it in the tent, Harry," said Hermione, trying to reason her best friend.

"Mate, maybe worry about your wand later on?" The red haired boy asked the bespectacled boy with a jerk of his head towards the girl sitting on a log, shaking from head to toe. Running a hand through his unruly hair, Harry walked to where his sister was sitting and pulled her into a side hug, whispering comforting words to her ears. Both Ron and Hermione soon joined the Potters as they sat on the grass in front of the two siblings. They remained seated in silence, waiting for the coast to clear when a raspy voice broke their silence not too far from where they were sitting.

"MORSMORDE!"

The quartet jumped to their feet, clearly taken aback by the voice. It was Hermione who realised what the voice meant. Somebody was casting a mark on the sky. His mark. Gasping at the sight of the green skull, she tugged on the boys' sleeves.

"We need to get out of here!" hissed Hermione as she pulled on both boys. Reluctantly, Harry followed the girl as he pulled his sister along with him. He noticed how Hermione would warily glanced at the illuminated shape on the sky. "What is that?"

"Harry, it's his mark," she told the bespectacled boy, making Ron shuddered as he realised what she was talking about, but Harry was still phased. Ellie, however, was not. Peering to her brother, she told him with a frantic look on her face.

"Voldemort-"

The rest of her sentence never left the tip of her tongue as about approximately twenty sounds of apparating were heard by the four young witches and wizards, followed by her brother grabbing the nape of her neck, pulling her downward with him and shielding her body with his own. Just as both Potters hit the ground, the stunning spell was fired from all direction, trapping the three Gryffindors and a Slytherin into a tight huddle, with the boys trying to protect the girls as best as they could.

"STOP!" called a familiar voice from the distant, "STOP! THAT'S MY SON!"

The older Potter dared himself to lift his head slowly, trying to see what was going on, only to be met by a frantic looking Mr. Weasley. Relieved to see a familiar face, he pulled his sister up and held her close to him. He wanted to soothe his sister, but found it hard to do as he was accused of casting the dark mark. The odds weren't with him, though, as Mr. Diggory retrieved a wand from a house-elf named Winky. His wand, to be exact.

"With all due respect, Mr. Diggory," started Ellie dangerously calm, "Are you really accusing my brother, the boy who lived, whose parents were killed by the hands of Voldemort himself, of casting the dark mark?"

"Well- well, you see- umm-"

"Amos, maybe they should be sent back to their tent," suggested Mr. Weasley as his effort of diffusing the tension. Just then, came a man in a boulder hat addressing the commotion in front of him. The ministry workers recognised the man as Barty Crouch, and made way for him like the Red Sea parted for the Israelites. Once he had a better few of the centre of the commotion, his eyes bulged and his jaw dropped. He was far from pleased, and he so want to not believe his eyes.

"Winky, what are you doing here? Didn't I told you to stay in the tent?"

"M- master, W- Winky didn't do it!" stammered to timid elf to her master. Alas, everything went down hill for poor old Winky from that point on. In Mr. Crouch's eyes, she had brought dishonor to hos family. How dare she made people think that he, a ministry worker, had thought his loyal and faithful elf to perform such dark magic? Watching Winky being freed wasn't liberating, it was heart breaking in all the possible ways. Mr. Weasley had to personally dragged a certain young Gryffindor from the scene because she was so close to starting a riot. In the mind of Hermione Granger, Winky deserved some kind of justice, but she didn't know house-eleves like the rest of the wizarding world. She was comparing the poor elf to the slaves from muggle war, and her logic was quite disturbing even though she had some points.

"Granger," said Ellie after hearing the girl rambling about the injustice of the wizarding system for forty minutes, "Don't mess with things you don't understand. And for the love of Salazar, shut it. We get it. You love those house-elves, but can you save it for another day when we, I don't know, wasn't close to being stunned by TWENTY BLOODY AURORS?!"

The whole tent went silent, to stunned by the young girl that seemed so furious yet so calm at the same time. It was like she was radiating her anger instead of showing it, and it honestly took her to another level. Not even the Weasley twins dared to tease her. Even Bill and Charlie scooted a little farther away from her.

"Your sister is truly something else," whispered Ron to his best mate from the corner of his mouth.

"Yes, she is."