After calling for Davis and receiving no response, Oliver and Olivia concluded that she was outside. Sure enough, Davis was seated around the fire with another mug of cocoa, engaged in conversation with Neville Longbottom, a fellow Gryffindor. Neville had spotted Davis on the way back to his grandmother’s tent and had stopped to speak. 

“Are you about ready to go to bed?” Olivia inquired with a quivering voice, still attempting to recover from the tension of the argument.

“No, not really.” Davis responded blatantly, promptly turning her attention back to Neville. “Would you like some more cocoa?” She asked him, picking up the kettle.

Olivia and Oliver ducked back inside and collapsed onto the parlor sofa. After their encounter with Flint, both were exhausted and shaken, but the young couple resolved to remain awake. They agreed that their limited time together would be wasted by slumbering. Ironically enough, however, soon after they had settled onto the sofa, Olivia had fallen asleep on Oliver’s shoulder. With a soft chuckle, he picked up a familiar, tattered copy of Quidditch Teams of Britain and Ireland for some late night reading. Davis turned in for the night twenty minutes later, quietly entering the tent and lighting the tip of her wand.

“Lumos.” She muttered in a hushed voice, expecting Olivia and Oliver to be sleeping. The light from her wand allowed her to see that Oliver was still awake.

“Is that cocoa still warm?” He inquired, referencing the kettle that Davis was carrying inside.

“I just took it off the fire.”

“Perfect. Accio mug.” He spoke quietly, pointing his wand to the kitchen. A mug came speeding at him from the counter, and Davis poured the remaining contents of the kettle into it. “How’s Neville?”

“He’s doing well. He’s here with his grandmother.” She responded. “How’s Olivia?”

“She’s... well, she’s just alright. Flint called her a mudblood.” Oliver said, receiving a gasp from Davis. “You know Olivia. She won’t show you that she’s upset, but you know she is.”

“I would be too... How ruthless of him.” Davis criticized, peering down at her sleeping best friend with sad eyes. “Say, Oliver, weren’t you supposed to go to that tent for the night?” She pointed next door to Mr. and Mrs. Wood’s makeshift home, a laughing expression on her face.

“Blimey, I was!” He said sarcastically. “Those instructions slipped my mind entirely.”

“Slipped your mind. Right.” She narrowed her eyes. “I see what you’re doing, you scoundrel.”

Oliver responded with a lone wink and a playfully mischievous grin. 

“You’d best behave yourself. I know the Unforgivable Curses, and I’m not afraid to use them.” Davis said jokingly, pulling her wand from the sleeve of her shirt. 

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

With a laugh, Davis withdrew from the conversation to get some sleep. Oliver turned his attention to Olivia, inwardly hoping that she would wake up, but he knew there was no chance of that. He continued to read, dreading the subsequent day - they would have to pack up their tents and leave.

Thirty minutes later, Oliver was growing more and more fatigued. His determination to finish re-reading one of his favorite titles was undermined when his eyes began to droop. He found it hard to remain awake, and began succumbing to exhaustion. He gingerly laid his head down on the back of the sofa - he would not move to a bed, he did not wish to disturb the peaceful Olivia - and closed his eyes. He knew he would find it difficult to sleep with the continued celebration outside, but determined to give it a try.

Suddenly, the sound of a scream caught Oliver’s attention. He opened his eyes suspiciously before writing it off as merriment. It was when several more screams followed, however, that he grew concerned. The screams were obviously screams of anguish and terror, but Oliver, not wanting to stand, determined that the screams were just intense team spirit.

Soon, Oliver was unable to make excuses for the slough of ear-splitting yells. The screams were now so loud and prominent that they penetrated the walls of the tent. Oliver wondered how Olivia and Davis were still asleep.

“What could that be?” He asked himself, his heart thumping heavily. He feared what lied on the opposite side of the tent wall, but knew he needed to investigate.

Slowly and carefully, Oliver transferred Olivia’s head from his shoulder to a throw pillow, standing from the sofa. Taking careful steps, he paced towards the exit of the tent. He fearfully grasped one of the tent flaps in his fist, taking a deep breath. The screams grew more shrill and invasive with every passing moment.

It can’t be that bad...

Oliver thought to himself in an ineffective attempt to reassure himself. From the sounds outside, he knew his attempt at consolation was untrue. He bravely yanked the tent flap aside, mustering up the courage to face the source of the screams.

What he was greeted with was nothing short of hellish and terrifying. The satisfying glow of the campfires had been overshadowed by burning tents, and the spirited celebrations had ceased, replaced by terror. In the distance, a group of wizards and witches were marching in synchronization and chanting in unison, and though they were distant, Oliver noticed that they were wearing hooded robes. 

“It can’t be...” He said quietly, hoping the sight before him was not real. He could not deny the reality of the situation for long - he would need to wake up Olivia, Davis, and his parents. He had no time for denial. “Bloody hell! Death Eaters!” Oliver said, fear lodging in his voice. His eyes were wide as he examined the scene before him. The campsite was masked in a hazy orange color, which intensified as the hooded wizards used their wands to set more of the tents alight. 

Oliver frantically turned and ran to the couch, grabbing Olivia by the shoulders and jarring her. 

“What! What’s the matter?” She muttered subconsciously, her eyes still shut.

“Olivia! Wake up, we’ve got to go! Death Eaters are outside! They’ve attacked the campground!”

“Death Eaters?!” She shot up, fully awake.

Oliver instructed Olivia to wake up Davis while he went next door to alert his parents. Minutes later, everyone was awake and informed. Oliver rushed back into Olivia and Davis’ tent.

“Everyone okay?” He hollered, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw them in good condition. “Let’s take the tents down before they get burned!” He yelled anxiously, his voice drowned out by the panic outside.

The trio burst through the exit of the tent, Davis and Olivia’s jaw dropping at the sight. This was the first time they had seen the riot with their own eyes, and it had gotten worse since Oliver first spotted it - the volumes of the screams had magnified tenfold and the narrow pathways between the tents were densely filled with terrorized Quidditch fans. The fire had greatly spread, and the air smelled distinctly of smoke. Mr. and Mrs. Wood were doing just as their son had suggested, disassembling the tent in an attempt to save it from the flames.

“Merlin’s beard...” Davis said in bewilderment, Olivia standing alongside her with a hand over her mouth in disbelief.

“Does this mean that You-Know-Who is back?” She asked openly with dread, receiving no answer. Nobody was aware of what had prompted the attack, but everyone knew the motivation behind it - the Death Eaters were followers of Lord Voldemort. 

“Help me take this down!” Oliver yelled, attempting to make his voice heard. Following orders, Olivia and Davis began to tear the tent poles from the ground as Oliver wrestled with the tarp. Neither Davis nor Olivia thought this was a good idea - the assembly of Death Eaters were growing in numbers and were quickly approaching.

“Is everyone okay?!” Mr. Wood yelled as the crowds intensified.

“For now!” Oliver yelled.

“Stay together, whatever you do!” He responded. “We’re stronger in numbers!”

Suddenly, the consistent screams were interrupted by those of even higher volume. Mr. Roberts, the Muggle campsite manager, accompanied by his family, had been lifted into the air. The Death Eaters had used Hover Charms to raise them, and were now dragging the Muggles along overhead. Upon realization of this, Olivia was filled with fear - the Death Eaters were targeting Muggles and Muggle-borns.

“Oliver, we need to go!” She yelled anxiously, ditching her efforts to save the tent. The Death Eaters had now reached their street and were just meters away. The screams of panic grew louder - they were at the heart of the attack and were in imminent danger. 

Witches and Wizards around them had the same realization and were in a frenzy. The crowd of attempted escapees had grown immensely, and the narrow pathway between the tents was so filled with commotion that walking was difficult. As the Death Eaters continued to advance up the path, Mr. and Mrs. Wood willingly gave up their desire to spare their belongings. The Death Eaters were now directly in front of their campsites, and in the interest of safety, Oliver’s parents had rushed the group away from their temporary home. 

They were close enough to the Death Eaters to hear their wicked, menacing laughter.

“How repulsive.” Oliver said in observation, clinging on to Olivia’s hand. The crowd was blinded with fear, and as result had scant regard for anyone around them. People were darting in every imaginable direction, violently colliding with those around them in attempt to flee the scene. 

“Olivia!” Davis yelled, horrified as the push and pull of the crowd distanced her from her friend. They were still just a few feet away, but the barrier of people between them frightened her. 

“Don’t worry, Davis!” Her attempts to grasp her friend’s hand failed. “We’re still close, just don’t lose sight of us!” They throng of people prevented them from closing their fearful distance.

The Death Eaters continued their brutish journey up the path, forcing the group in the direction of Marcus’ tent. As the crowd propelled them nearer and nearer to it, Oliver and Olivia spotted Marcus fearfully attempting to flee the scene, bags swung over his shoulder. Cassius and Miles were nowhere to be seen, and their tent had been set ablaze.

One look at Marcus led Olivia to a realization. She quickly turned around to glance at the Death Eaters, who were pushing along closely behind them. On sight, she gasped with shock. The masks that the Death Eaters were wearing looked just like the one she noticed in the floor of Marcus’ tent.

“Oliver! Marcus is a Death Eater!” She shouted. “I saw the mask in his tent! I just made the connection!”

“How? He’s trying to flee with the rest of us. He looks scared.” Oliver asked, perplexed.

“He’s probably afraid I’d turn him in! He’s just pretending to be frightened so I won’t get suspicious.”

“You have a good point... His father was a known Death Eater during You-Know-Who’s rise to power.”

They were now in shouting distance of Marcus, who had just taken notice of them.

“Wood! Nice day for Quidditch, is it not?” He said menacingly with a sly grin before mocking their fearful expressions, making it clear that he was pretending to be afraid. In one burst of confidence, Olivia made a blatant, unwise decision. 

“Flint, what’s in those bags you’re carrying?” She yelled, scowling at him. “Your mask? Your hooded robe?”

Flint’s face when white and expressionless as Olivia smirked. The crowd quickly propelled the group away from Marcus, so she felt protected from his potential backlash.

Suddenly, the Death Eaters employed their wands to force people out of their way. Bright flashes of light were followed by screams as people were tossed aside like skipping stones. Davis had been shoved even further from Oliver and Olivia now, and Mr. and Mrs. Wood were nowhere to be seen. Oliver and Olivia naturally turned their heads to examine the scene - the Death Eaters were now just ten feet away, and they were approaching fast. 

Out of nowhere, Oliver felt someone’s hands on his chest, and he was forcibly shoved backwards into the sweeping force of the multitudinous stampede of screaming witches and wizards. After collecting himself, Oliver looked up - it was Marcus, who was now yelling at Olivia.

“Maybe this will teach you to hold your tongue!” Marcus vociferated, spitting in Olivia’s face. He reached down and took her wrist, squeezing it with extreme force. Oliver, who was trying to fight his way back to his sweetheart, felt blood rush to his face in anger. Simultaneously, Olivia instinctively resolved to use her other hand to fight back, balling up her fist.

“LET GO OF ME!” She screamed, hauling off and decking Flint in the face. Davis and Oliver both saw the scene from their respective positions in the mob.

“That’s my girl.” Oliver said with a proud smile. “Doing what I never would.”

“Get him!” Davis jeered.

Both of their brief moments of excitement were terminated prematurely. Oliver’s smile was quickly wiped from his face as someone knocked him to the ground, and Davis’ expression morphed into fear as she was pulled even further away from her companions.

In the meantime, Marcus had been wrestling with Olivia as the Death Eaters marched nearer and nearer. Oliver regained his footing and began to fight his way to Olivia, but he was too late. Marcus overpowered her and aggressively raised her arm into the air.

“MUDBLOOD!” He yelled to the top of his lungs, the Death Eaters within earshot. “I’VE GOT A MUDBLOOD!” He jeered again, Olivia frozen in fear. Marcus gave a wicked laugh and let go of Olivia’s wrist, shoving away from her and disappearing into the horde.

Oliver was experiencing an array of emotions. Helplessness and unrestricted rage topped the list, but as he witnessed the scene before him, his heart hit the floor and he began to violently shove people aside. The Death Eaters had heard Marcus’ cries and were now marching towards Olivia, whose face was streaked with tears.

“OLIVIA!” He yelled over the crowd, becoming blasé towards their screams. Horror was painted onto his face as he realized Olivia was paralyzed in terror. She weakly turned to look at him with pleading eyes, her mouth agape, but was unable to move or speak. “DISAPPARATE!” He begged, fearing for her life as the Death Eaters drew closer and closer. “OLIVIA!”

Davis was struggling to get a glimpse of her comrades when she heard Oliver’s discernable, pleading yells. She could raise her head enough to see the scene play out - Olivia was unresponsive, Oliver was fighting his way to her, and the Death Eaters were advancing. Davis’ heart raced as she stood still to observe. There was nothing she could do - the sea of people jarring her around rendered her useless to the cause. As she grappled to maintain a view of Olivia, Davis crumpled in horror at what she saw. The Death Eaters were just feet away from her friend.

Oliver had resulted to combative methods while tearing through the mob. Every person that blocked his path was simultaneously kicked and thrown aside. Oliver had a one-track mind and his eyes were filling with tears - his helplessness made Olivia seem unobtainable. 

“Oliver-?” Olivia said weakly, speaking for the first time and locking eyes with him. In that moment, it appeared her soul was reaching out to his, making him fight even harder.

“I’m coming! Hang on!” He was within feet of her now, and soon, he could reach for her - only if she would reach back. Safety was literally within arm’s reach and Oliver grew hopeful. This all changed when the Death Eaters raised their wands, training them on Olivia. 

Davis, who was still watching on tip-toe, caught glimpse of this. On sight, her whole body went weak. Any remaining warm sensation was violently torn from her, and she felt empty. She thought her friend was going to be killed.

“NO!” She wailed, the pain detectable in her voice as a crowd of tall men approached and obstructed her view. “STOP! LET ME THROUGH!” She cried out in agony, feeling as though part of her soul had been ripped from her body. “I NEED TO GET THROUGH!” The selfish escapees ignored her plea, and she was swept away, loudly weeping. She had no form of confirmation that her closest friend was still alive.

The Death Eaters began to utter an incantation, and Olivia finally registered the finality of what was about to occur. In a split second, Oliver closed his eyes, preparing for apparition. He extended an arm and hurled himself forward.

“OLIVIA! GRAB MY HAND!” 

Finally aware, Olivia obeyed the command, and as streaks of light left the Death Eaters’ wands, her hand gripped Oliver’s wrist and everything went black.

The familiar sensation of apparition overtook her and she realized Oliver helped her escape the hands of Voldemort’s villainous supporters. 

Suddenly, she was grounded in the master bedroom of Oliver’s flat. It took her a moment to register she was safe - danger had been commonplace for the past hour.

When Olivia finally regained her senses, she burst into tears and collapsed into Oliver’s arms. Oliver was in tears, too, having nearly lost his girlfriend traumatized him, and his entire body was trembling from the adrenaline rush.

“Thank you...” She said, choking up as her voice quivered. Words failed her. Oliver saved her life, and there was nothing she could say that would compensate for it.