2. A tight spot
Looking back, Harry should have known this could happen. At an event as big as the Quidditch World Cup, someone was bound to recognize him and spread the word. Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, was on the camping site.
So now, as he slowly walked back from the water tab, bucket full, towards the Weasley tent, eyes followed him just like at Hogwarts. Only this time it weren't just students who watched. Every adult stopped with what they were doing when he walked past and gave him curious glances. No one dared to talk to him. Their scrutinizing gaze gave him an uncomfortable feeling.
Harry cursed himself for not bringing the invisibility cloak. He wanted to get back to the tent and out of view as soon as possible. Unfortunately, the load he carried made it hard to move at a faster pace without spilling. He wished Ron was there to distract him from his surroundings but his friend was somewhere in the woods, gathering firewood. Instead Harry tried to distract himself by focussing on the bucket full of water, forget his surroundings. But the way everyone fell silent as he passed and turned to stare at him made it impossible to ignore.
Although, maybe not everyone.
In his peripheral vision, Harry noticed a women in front of a small tent who was reading a book. Every now and then she looked up and around. Then her eyes met Harry's.
He waited for the inevitable gaze at his forehead and was surprised when it didn't come. Instead they flickered to the tent opposite hers. For a moment she raised her eyebrow at what she saw before focussing on her book again.
Surprised, Harry turned around and understood why she had raised an eyebrow. Behind it, a young man was hiding and not doing a very good job at it. When the man noticed he had been seen by Harry, he took an deep breath and stepped nervously in front of him.
"Hi, I'm Johnathan Bigot from the Magical Sports magazine Can I ask you some questions?"
Harry was caught off guard. So far, complete silence had followed him on his way back. Surprised by the change, he didn't answer immediately. This seemed to encourage the wizard to continue.
"Is this your first time at a Quidditch World Cup?" He asked Harry, quill and parchment at the ready.
"Uhm, yeah, why?" Harry stammered. Why did this man want to know that?
Then it clicked in Harrys head. If this man worked for the Magical Sports magazine, that would mean he was a reporter. Up until now, the only paper he knew of was the Daily Prophet. But of course there were bound to be more in the wizarding world.
Harry wasn't sure what to do. He had never been interviewed before and preferred it that way. He didn't want the attention. At school it had been bad enough.
Mr. Bigot tried to ask Harry another question. Before he could continue, however, he was interrupted by a witch in a fuchsia coloured dress and manicured nails. She looked very out of place in the middle of a camping ground.
"Excuse me, Harry, dear, I'm Monica Daywright from the Witch Weekly. Would you mind answering some questions?" She asked with a sweet voice, pretending as if the man next to her didn't exist. Before Harry even processed what she had said, she shouted over her shoulder.
"Bosco, come here, would you! See if we can make a picture for the article." In the distance, Harry saw a man with a huge old fashioned camera.
He tried to decline politely and continue his way without spilling water but it was no use. Before Harry knew it, He was surrounded by other reporters, all asking if he would answer their questions. Just when he was about to panic, a new voice, louder than all the others, spoke.
"Enough! How dare you all speak to mister Potter without an appointment. This is a violation of at least two articles of the law of Underaged wizards."
Everyone stopped speaking at once and turned around. A couple of feet away, a woman stood. She had her dark blond hair up in a bun and was looking very strict. She reminded Harry of a young professor McGonagall, his Transfiguration teacher. She even looked somewhat familiar. Thin, tall and lips pursed in a small line.
The woman continued speaking, slightly louder than a normal volume.
"Now, if you will excuse me, I have an interview with mister Potter that I would very much like to do before the deadline. I advise you all make an appointment by contacting mister Lynch, like civilized people, if you want to speak to him this badly. Make no mistake, if you keep bothering him, I will report it."
Harry had no idea what appointment the woman was talking about, nor who this 'mister Lynch' was supposed to be. However, the reporters looked reluctant to continue their flood of questions.
Looking back at the woman, he realised why she seemed familiar. It was the one who was reading a book just a few feet away! He hadn't recognized her immediately. There was something different. Though, he didn't know what.
She must have said something else that threatened the reporters while Harry wasn't listening because they all scurried of quickly, leaving him alone with the woman. She walked up to him wearing that same, strict face.
''Where were you, mister Potter? We had an appointment half an hour ago! Your manager, mister Lynch, told me you would be there.'' She said, looking angry.
Harry, who had no idea what the woman was talking about, took a step back stammering. ''M-my manager?''
But then, without warning, the woman's face formed a smile and she started laughing. Harry stood, perplexed. For a minute or so, she continued to laugh. Every time she looked at Harry, she started again.
''Your face.'' she snickered. ''You should see your face.''
She took a few calming breaths and turned to Harry with a smile. ''Are you alright? They didn't run you over, did they?'' She asked.
''What? Oh, no I'm fine. I think.'' Harry answered the stranger. Now that she was standing close he could see that he had been wrong. Although she was tall, she didn't look very old. He guessed just a couple of years older than him. More a girl than a woman.
''I'm sorry but who are you?'' He asked, confused. ''And who is this mister Lynch you were talking about earlier?''
Harry did not have a manager. Just the thought made him feel sick. It reminded him a little too much of professor Lockhart.
''Ah don't worry about him.'' The girl told him. ''Whoever he is, I'm sure he won't bother you. I would love to see the look on his face when he gets all those interview requests. That is, if he even exists at all.''
''You mean, you did that just to get rid of them?'' Harry asked incredulously. ''You lied to all those reporters just to get them to leave?'' He started to grin. He had no idea who this girl was, but she just saved him from a lot of trouble and probably embarrassment.
''Why- '' he wanted to ask her but before he could she started to drag him away towards her tent.
''I forgot about them for a moment. I was too busy laughing.'' The witch told him sheepishly. ''They might come back. So we'd better hide here for little while.''
She pushed Harry into her tent and followed him, closing the flap that was the door. It was a very tight fit, made for two, tops. The light that filtered through engulfed them in a blue colour, making Harry feel as if he was under water. They sat down on the camping mattress and both looked through a little gap, checking for possible reporters. After a few seconds, Harry's curiosity won over and he asked the first thing that came to him.
''Who are you?''
The girl smiled at his question, undoubtedly expecting it, but didn't answer him immediately. She kept looking out for a few more seconds and then turned to meet his eyes. Harry noticed they were dark blue. But then remembered that it might be the canvas making it look like that.
''People call me Joanne'' She told him, mysteriously. She offered him her hand. He shook it.
''Harry, but I guess you already knew that.'' Harry replied.
''Well, it was hard to miss, honestly. Those barbarians kept asking 'Harry Potter' to answer some questions. Or more like demanding. When I saw you standing in the middle of that crowd, I realized it must be you they were speaking to. It didn't seem like you were enjoying yourself so I decided to help you out for a bit. No problem really.'' She explained. ''I hope that was all right.'' She added hastily.
She must have noticed the frown that had formed on Harry's forehead. But he wasn't angry at her, just thoughtful. He'd expected her to tell him that she recognized him because of his scar, he way most of the wizarding world did. Instead she figured it because the reporters addressed him that way. Moreover, the reason she helped him wasn't because of who he was but because she had noticed his upcoming panic. He was surprised by her reasoning and at the same time glad. Joanne hadn't let the knowledge of his identity change the way she acted. Literally acted.
Harry reassured her that she had been of great help. While surrounded, he had no idea about what to do and he had gladly taken her escape route.
While talking, Harry's eyes fell on the backpack that lay in the corner. It was half emptied, a bottle and a thermos were fixed at the sides and from one of the straps hung a cap. It matched the rest of her outfit, he noticed. She wore hiking boots and a windbreaker. It was completely different from all the other witches and wizards. She actually wore muggle clothing the right way. Harry thought it was almost odd.
''I know this might be strange, but can I maybe borrow that?'' Harry pointed at the cap that hung from the backpack. ''It's just. I don't want people to keep staring while I'm here.'' He explained.
She nodded, surprised. ''Yeah, sure. Shall I help you with the water? I'm not doing anything right now, and I wanted to take a look around, anyway.''
Harry had opened his mouth to decline her offer but closed it again. Joanne had stood up without another word and had left the tent. Besides, he didn't mind the help and so far she'd been good company.
After a moment she reappeared and stuck out her hand to help Harry up.
''The coast is clear. Let me just grab my stuff. Oh, and here's the hat.'' She passed it to Harry.
Harry was relieved to notice the difference in atmosphere the moment they set foot for the Weasley's. The campsite had returned to a field full of laughter and excitement. Everyone's attention was back on the match that would happen tonight. In the distance, he could hear people sing the Irish national anthem.
Before they left, Harry and Joanne divided the water over two buckets. This made the route physically lighter as well. And his disguise worked, miraculously, too. Even though it was just a cap, no one noticed 'The Boy Who Lived' anymore. Harry began to feel relaxed again.
He told Joanne where they were going and then about the Weasley's. He told her about his best friends, Ron and Hermione, how Mr. Weasley got tickets for the World Cup because he worked at the ministry. About Bill and Charlie and their jobs. About Percy starting to work and the pranks Fred and George pulled. She seemed very interested in what he had to say and asked him quite a few questions, some even he couldn't answer.
Before Harry knew it, they had arrived at their destination. It was then that he realised that, because of all her questions, he hadn't been able to ask Joanne anything about herself.