By the time Will returned to the tent to rest, it was late at night. The sky was dark, and the nearly full moon, missing a small sliver, hid behind the clouds. Only faint moonlight reached the ground. It was almost the perfect night for trouble.
Will dozed for a few hours before a commotion woke him: screams, sobs, angry shouts, and the thunder of countless uneven footsteps.
He got up, took a small bottle of Wakefulness Potion he had prepared from his pocket, and drank half of it in one gulp. He shook his head, and his mind quickly cleared.
"Will! Quick—uh—" Sylvia, dressed in pajamas, had barely knocked twice when the wooden door opened. Will was fully dressed. His slightly long black hair was a little tousled, but he looked wide awake, without a trace of panic.
"Outside..." Sylvia pointed toward the noise.
"I know." Will nodded. He took off his coat and draped it over Sylvia's shoulders. "Don't panic. Nothing will happen in our section."
The Lestrange family's tent stood in the innermost section, where security was strongest. The nearby tents housed senior Ministry of Magic officials and members of wealthy pure-blood families.
Victor appeared in the bedroom doorway, already fully dressed and looking grave. "Sylvia, go back and stay with your mother. Will, you too. Daisy can take care of herself."
"Uncle Victor," Will said, refusing, "a man shouldn't hide behind a woman."
Victor looked Will up and down. "All right, my boy. Moody told me he taught you a few tricks. We'll guard the tent entrance. Stay behind me, understood?"
"No problem." Will nodded. Nothing serious was going to happen. What he didn't understand was why the Death Eaters had attacked the camp. Voldemort surely wasn't foolish enough to send this rabble to stir up