On the night of the Quidditch World Cup, Orli excused herself, citing feeling unwell, and retreated to her bedroom early. She dressed meticulously, triple-checked her belongings, and waited silently for Dobby's signal.
Late into the night, as the house fell into complete silence, faint noises from downstairs suggested that Snape had gone to sleep. At that moment, with a soft "pop," Dobby appeared in the center of her bedroom floor, looking utterly frantic and babbling incoherently.
"Bad wizards! Trying to steal wands... but... they... Muggles... flying... underpants..." Dobby stammered, his large eyes darting around nervously.
"Take me there, now!" Orli grabbed Dobby's thin hand without hesitation. She felt a sudden blur as she was yanked into an unfamiliar space. It was not quite like Apparition but equally disorienting. She spun wildly, like a kite severed from its string caught in a whirlwind, clinging desperately to Dobby's fingers.
When they landed, solid ground met her feet. In front of her loomed the back of a tent, its thick canvas standing like a wall. She and Dobby were concealed in the shadows.
"Just now, in the air, an invisible hand tried to snatch Harry Potter's wand from the box," Dobby finally calmed enough to explain, gripping Orli's hand tightly.
"But Dobby stayed close, very quiet, and cast a spell near Harry Potter. Harry Potter's wand is safe."
"Good work, Dobby. Now hide," Orli whispered, her voice barely audible.
The campsite was in chaos. Many lights had been extinguished, leaving only a few bonfires casting flickering light over limited areas. Screams and panicked footsteps echoed through the air. Shouts erupted from within the tents. She could hear Mr. Weasley's voice growing closer to the tent entrance and quickly cast a Disillusionment Charm on herself. Thanks to Snape's rigorous "special training," she had become adept at such spells. Dobby, meanwhile, vanished in the unique manner of house-elves.
Harry and Ron burst out of the tent, clad only in pajamas, hurriedly shoving their feet into shoes, their arms not fully through their coat sleeves. Behind them came Sirius and Mr. Weasley. Mr. Weasley had pulled jeans over his pajama bottoms, making his legs look oddly inflated, as though hit by an Engorgement Charm.
Many campers were fleeing toward a wooded hill. Harry and his group joined the exodus. The Disillusionment Charm worked perfectly; no one noticed Orli as she followed them. Halfway up the hill, Orli finally saw the source of the commotion:
A cluster of wizards moved as one, their wands pointed skyward, advancing slowly across the field. They were cloaked in black robes with hoods, their faces obscured by grotesque masks.
Raucous laughter, drunken shouts, and jeers filled the night air. Above them, four struggling figures floated in the sky—likely the Muggle family who had been overseeing the campsite.
More wizards joined the procession, laughing and pointing at the floating bodies. As the mob swelled, tents were trampled underfoot. Orli even saw a few wizards use their wands to ignite nearby tents. Flames consumed clusters of tents, and the screams grew louder.
Hermione, Ginny, and a few others finally caught up with Harry's group, accompanied by two older red-haired men. Orli recognized Bill, and the other must have been Charlie. Both were fully dressed, sleeves rolled up, wands at the ready.
Below, one of the masked wizards used his wand to flip the Muggle woman upside down. Her nightgown fell, revealing a garish assortment of underpants. The crowd erupted in cheers and jeers as she struggled to cover herself.
"Bloody hell, these bastards..." Sirius swore under his breath, his face dark with anger.
"Harry, get into the woods. Stick together, and don't separate. I'll find you once this is over!" he commanded before charging toward the advancing mob.
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