Smokey air filled the sky, dancing across her skin and filling her sight dangerously. The screams that shattered the night were harrowing, shaking her to her core.

Rushed steps, bodies sticking close together, Iola watched as who she learned to be Mr. Weasley and his oldest, of age sons, run off to provide assistance, George and his twin guiding the others in their party, but Iola stood uncertain of where to go.

She wanted to return to her tent, dive into the mess around her to be sure that Ponpy was safe even if she knew him to be smart enough to get away from danger. He had instructions to check if she was home before he went looking for her — Iola hoped he went there.

But France was far off, apparating made difficult over the distance, and their home in London was still not prepared for them. Two homes, as it were, as she had inherited one from her mysterious father and another was purchased in her name. So many places, but still she had nowhere to go.

Underage magic was prohibited but France had never been very strict on that matter, not with her near-constant training, yet she could not apparate regardless -- not having been taught how.

She glanced between the two groups as they grew farther apart, now finding the twins alone with their sister. Their wands were at the ready, and maybe they had already seen the cloaked figure headed their way, but it did not prevent the way she moved her wand forward with a snap, a curse rolling off her tongue as she sent the wizard flying backward.

The twins jumped, both turning to face her with wands raised, only to lower them at the sight of her own.

"Stay focus," Iola told them as she jogged to catch up. "Wand always ready."

"Stay focused?" One of them repeated, and it took a moment of staring to realize that it was not George that spoke. "How did you even hit him from there?"

Iola shrugged. "Practice. Now quick, we need to go. I do not know if there are others."

"Of course there are others!" Not-George cried, and Iola placed a finger to his lips.

"Shh! We will be find with all this yelling." She berates him quickly, slipping ahead of them, sparing a smile to the younger girl that clung to her brothers. "Is where we going?"

"Dad said to go to the woods," the girl told her, nodding in a general direction.

"D'accord, I will follow. Go," Iola urged, glancing behind them to where more screams originated as people darted from the destruction.

"But what about Ron? Harry and Hermione?" The youngest cried as her brothers began to lead her.

"They're all together, they'll be fine Ginny," one of the twins said, the other continued, "They'll look out for each other."

The French girl watched as Ginny argued, claiming they needed to head back for them.

"They have wands, no? They will be safe," Iola told her, wand tip lit as they used it to guide them through the light smoke that swirled up from the dirt and blew from the fire.

Trying to snuff out the heart-wrenching screams was difficult when Iola knew they were all so close, but she knew that her assistance would not be useful when she was still technically underage. Workers for the ministry were here, and while Iola did not have trust in them here as she did the people in France, she knew that they were well competent to deal with it alone.

It was the Weasley's, George and his siblings, that needed her help at the moment, the British ministry trace being very serious and foolish in times like these.

She was unafraid of using her magic and any consequences she would face for it. More than that, Iola was confident in her spellwork, her defensive and offensive knowledge of magic was truly vast and impressive for a person her age.

It was why there was no hesitation when she shot loose curse and hex alike, jinxes and spells that bloomed from the tip of her wand with a marvellous display of lights that breathed the heart of each word she whispered to the wind. Her movements were fluid, no ounce of hesitation in her form, and before she realized they were darting into the looming darkness that was the night of the forest, the change nearly causing her to stumble as she tripped over roots and uneven dirt.

Still, she followed along behind the twins and Ginny, their wands lit to guide them as they grew increasingly lost in the trees that twisted them away from their location.

Iola wasn't sure what she expected, with the chaos that they had left behind, but the stutter her heart made when a shadow jumped out from behind a trunk only spurred her forward faster.

The sparks that the wand emit were already loose, the colour vaguely familiar, and her defence was ready.

"Protego!" Louder than any of the other spells she had used that night, it startled the group up front, one of the twins stumbling away from the protection she granted, and Iola darted forward quickly.

"Not George!" She called, tackling the boy as a red light shot overhead, nearly catching her in the shoulder. "Careful."

She sat up, straddling his back and holding him down with her free hand as she shot a jinx at the man that approached them slowly. He was weak, and unskilled at duelling making it easy for her to knock him back into a tree winding him unconscious in the process.

Everyone remained still as they waited for someone to do something.

"Did you just call me Not George?" The boy beneath her asked, his absolute disbelief clear to her as he twisted on the ground to look up at her.

"Oui. I do not know you are name," she says, nodding as she explains before slowly climbing to her feet and offering him a hand up.

Ginny snickers behind her, and Iola looks back to give her a confused smile.

A large hand tugged at her own and she flexed to pull the tallboy to his feet. He staggered into her as he rose, and she released him immediately to move away and to George's side where she was quick to look him and his sister over for injury.

She did not realize that she was standing so close to him until he cleared his throat and she was jumping away from him.

His cheeks were flushed, his sister giggling and twin gaping at them like he had never seen them before.

"That's just aces, then! You lot are all cozy and she doesn't even know my name!" Not George complains tossing his head back as he bemoans his luck.

Iola blinks at the expression, searching through all the English she knew to try and figure out what on earth he meant. Coming up blank, she shrugged it off as she went and stood silently to the side of them, wand still gripped tightly in hand in preparation. She could figure it out later. Her English was always faulty and spotty when she was stressed.

"Come off it, Fred," George snapped, momentarily glaring at his brother before turning to Iola with soft eyes. "This loon is Fred. Don't mind him much."

The twin bickered then while their sister called out taunts to spur them on. Iola didn't quite understand what was happening as they wrestled on the ground, rolling over and over as they went.

"Loon?" She breathed to herself, much more confused than she had been before.

She thought that perhaps it would have been best had she went with the adults instead of them and all their peculiarities. They were strange and made her head hurt as she tried to decipher what they were saying all the time. 

Though she did not regret helping them get to safety, more so when it meant that she herself would be safe. Idly, Iola made her way to the man she had knocked out earlier. He was a stout fellow, his hair a shaggy thing and a thick mustache took over his upper lip. Frowning, the girl poked him cautiously with her wand before deeming him firmly knocked out. Plucking his wand from the forest floor where it rested near his outstretched hand, she tossed it behind her -- watching as it landed with a dull thud near the tangled twins.

"Incarcerous," she muttered, pointing her wand at the man, waiting till he was tied up before she began to move him with a grunt at how heavy he actually was.

Iola left him leaning against the tree that he had flown into, taking the chance to look him over now that he was secured.

"What are you doing?" One of the twins asked from his place by her shoulder. She stared at him for a hard moment before spotting the flecks of green that were splattered near his hair from his Ireland face paint and deemed him to be George.

"I try to know who he is," she replied quickly, words tumbling from her mouth in a tongue-twisting way that she knew wasn't correct somehow but she couldn't really put a finger on at the moment.

Everything just had the girl so stressed that she had trouble thinking clearly.

George hummed as he leaned closer, calling over his shoulder for his brother and they both whispered conspiratorially. She narrowed her eyes, trying to follow what they were saying but they spoke too quickly for her to hope to keep up.

"You know?" She asked, fingers gently brushing his shoulder to grab his attention once more.

"N-no, no, but our dad might," he stuttered, and Iola figured that she must have startled him with her touch and pulled away.

Nodding, she rested her shoulder against a tree where she was able to keep an eye on the man and any other approaching figure. She knew she was capable of fast, smart spellwork, but it all depended on her being aware of her surroundings. Most adults were quick, duelling for them wasn't often considered as entertaining a sport as Quidditch, but those that went into it professionally were faster than could ever be imagined, really. Iola was working on that speed herself, working to get record-breaking to please her mother, but she never knew when someone could get the drop on her.

She knew plenty of spells, though that did not mean it would always be easy. Every failed attempt had left a series of bruises and burns on her body that had only been healed once mastered. Iola was certain if her bones could talk they would wail the abuse they had been put through.

"We wait here or you want to go?" She asks, blinking up at the twins curiously.

They gaped in turn, looking at her as though they were astounded to be put in such a position as to make the decision and Iola sighed, taking lead as she lit the tip of her wand illuminating the shadows that clung around trees and stretched out threateningly.

"We go. Not safe with him."

"What above this guy? We can't just leave him here," Ginny protests, but she keeps her gaze set on the tents and the few screams that continue to sound from further beyond.

Biting the edge of her tongue, she shoots a burst of light into the sky, red sparks raining down from their position. "We go now."

This time she doesn't wait as she pushes the twins into motion, urging them along and grabbing Ginny's hand as she goes, pressing them to find the portkey with haste that she hadn't felt before.

A soft boom sounded, a shot of green snakes it's way into the clouded sky, bursting into a moving scene. A skull forms and she trips, a strangled cry passing trembling lips as she watches the Dark Mark above her.

"Go. Hurry, go!" she snaps, pushing them and somehow they end up on a small hill far from the fight.

Iola steadies Ginny as she stumbles, pushing her to her brothers as they reach for her hands. Uncertainty floods through her as she's faced with what she's to do now. Her mother's shrill voice rings in her head, screaming at her for her cowardice. Her mother would not want her to go with them, would not want for her to flee from a fight that would have brought more attention and fame to her already heavy name.

She wondered where Viktor was, if he had gotten away or if he thought of her as she did him, searching in the mess that she had stolen away from.

There's a shout, a cry that calls her attention, and two hands that curl in her clothes, clinging to her tight and pulling her forward.

Falling with them, it's the only warning she needs as she easily escapes their hold to spin about, rolling over so she was on her knees, wand at the ready as she watched the twins let loose a spell toward the masked man that aimed towards them.

Iola cursed her foolishness.

He wavered, freezing with the full-body bind that seized him — both seemingly thinking of the same spell.

The girl doesn't take the chance for the stun to wear off as she ties him up and knocks him back, sending him sprawling to the wet grass with a harsh slam that made her want to cringe.

"Thank you!" She breathes, bouncing to her feet as she spins to face them. "I did no see him."

"It's a good thing you weren't alone," Fred comments, moving over to stand by his sister.

"Yes, thank you,"she repeats, not unkindly. "It is little bit different in a duel."

"That's one way to put it," Ginny comments.

"Do we stay here?" George asks, poking the body.

Fred shrugs. "She made us leave last time."

"You could have stayed," she defends sharply. "It is just safer in case. Never know."

"She has a point, Freddie."

"Yes, I know George."

"You need not do anything I say. I can leave if you prefer."

"Are you mental?" Fred asks. "

"Where would you go?" George finishes.

"I would go help. I am more than capable."

"No, stay here. I'm not letting you run headfirst into danger," George tells her, grabbing her around the wrist to pull her down. They sit close on the small hillside, the four huddled together in a way that she wasn't used to.

There wasn't room for friendly huddling for comfort and relief. It was a waste of emotions and energy, worrying about something as foolish as fear.

Fear was nothing, Mother would tell her. Fear was a thing for those that were lesser than herself.

She couldn't believe that she was actually just sitting here.

Things were not going to go well when Aveline found her.

Iola really should have denied him, really should have left to lend a hand because she could see them clearly in her mind now as she was no longer forced to focus on the danger of the situation. All those poor people, all those muggles, that were left suspended in the air, the spells that were being used to attack others... she couldn't ignore what had happened when she was able to think clearly.

Death eaters had come to the Quidditch World Cup and Iola wasn't sure what that meant for the future.

You-Know-Who is dead. That she was certain of. Harry Potter has vanquished the dark wizard as a child, but to think his followers were so confident and attached a cause without a leader was terrifying.

"My mother will look for me. I should leave," she says, making no move to actually stand.

George nods. "You wouldn't be able to find each other regardless."

"Alright."

They sit there airing what seems like hours as Iola faces the night sky, taking in the stillness of the world that was hidden in dust clouds and smoke. It made you hold your breath, waiting on the next beat of your heart for time to kick back into motion and for chaos and destruction to rain down mercilessly. Iola knee that it was over now, that the fighting was done in the silence that bled free from the campground, but that didn't stop her from waiting as if it was a match and the next round would come crashing forward before she could place up her guard.

It's not long for someone to come, a friend of men with their wands at the ready that came directly to where they were. There was no sign of a spell, of a movement of their wand but that didn't keep her from tightening her grip on the wood and holding it in a careful wrist position — ready for the flick of a fast burst of magic.

None of it was necessary as Ginny jumps up, freeing herself from Fred as she runs for the boys — crashing in with the tallest man in the middle. The twins followed closely behind, racing to who she could only assume to be their brothers.

And it's only then that she realizes how steady her hands are to the nervous way they held themselves. They were shocked, shaken from the whole ordeal.

Instantly, she felt terrible.

"Thank you for keeping my siblings safe," he tells her.

Iola smiles, face composed into one of modest confidence. "I did not do much."

"She's lying," Ginny blurts, squeezing her brother closer.

"It is true. You would have been fine on your own."

The twins share a look. "Iola—"

"Iola-Colette!"

A shiver runs down her spine and her jaw clenched. Her wand disappears from sight as she swiftly tucks it away, turning to meet her Aveline's dark glare.

Her mother was an imposing figure, still young, and though there were few signs of ageing, they only worked to make her more graceful and refined. She carried herself with the weight of a royal, the weight of someone who held their blood as if she was the definition of nobility.

"Maman," she breathes, straightening her spine. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same. What do you think you are doing here?" Her mother snaps, standing a wide berth from the siblings that stood together.

"I was only helping, mother..."

"Yes, helping in all the wrong places," Aveline states, voice clipped and short. "Come. You have clearly grown lax in your studies. It is a matter that must be corrected at once."

"But, mother, should we not stay to help..."

"Now, Iola."

There's a tightening in her chest, a feeling that is terrible disgusting in its weakness, and she swallows the lump building in her throat as she nods her acceptance.

Nothing good ever came from arguing with her mother.

Looking back to the family, Iola smiles. "It was nice to meet you all. Perhaps I will see you again."

Aveline grabs her elbow and they disappear with a crack.

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2019-12-09