AN: Chapter 2 is up just a week later! And it's almost twice as long as chapter 1. How long will each chapter be on average? I'm not sure. I expect it'll be at least close to what this is, maybe a little longer if I don't have a good stopping point. I think I'd rather go long than short.
Additionally, I would expect some people may be wondering about my update schedule, and if it will continue to be this regular. In short...no. Sorry. This is out so quickly because I already had it written when I posted chapter 1, and I spent my writing time this week doing re-writes to it, as well as a handful of changes to chapter 1. Nothing major, just nitpicks I noticed. I'm sorry I won't be able to produce chapters on a reliable schedule, but a lot of my free time goes to other pursuits.
I also still need a beta if anyone is interested.
Please feel free to let me know what you think so far. I'm especially concerned with the characters, and making sure they are consistent. I'm also a little concerned about pacing, as we're pretty close to the book at this point, and I don't want it to be boring. We do start seeing some more variation in chapter 3, so at least it won't last too long.
I don't own HP or any of that biz. I hope you enjoy chapter 2.
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Harry was greeted by Mrs. Weasley by way of a tremendous bear hug. He tried his best not to stiffen up. He knew she was just happy to see him, but her penchant for hugs had always made him a little uncomfortable.
"So glad to see you Harry dear," she said as she released him, giving him a quick once over. "We've just finished dinner, but you're welcome to the leftovers if you're still hungry after your dinner at home."
"That'd be nice," Harry said quietly, trying not to let his desire show on his voice. Mrs. Weasley's meals, in his opinion, were second only to the feast days at Hogwarts. He flushed when his traitorous stomach let out a loud grumble.
Mr. Weasley laughed, and clapped his hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry jumped a little in surprise, but didn't say anything. "Growing boys can never get enough food Molly," he said with a smile down at Harry. "Let's head inside, Ron has probably already started in on those leftovers."
Harry let himself be bustled into the Burrow by Mrs. Weasley, as Mr. Weasley levitated his trunk along behind them. As they crossed the threshold, Harry was astounded by the inside of the strange house. The door opened directly into what appeared to be a family room. Large patched sofas lined the wall, with a few armchairs spread about in a disorganized fashion. Hermione was sitting with her legs dangling off an armrest in one of the chairs, reading 'Hogwarts: A History' for what must be the thousandth time.
"Make yourself at home," Mrs. Weasley said fondly, as she moved toward the kitchen. "I'll have you a plate of food ready in no time."
He thanked her as he stepped out of Mr. Weasley's way, so the older man could maneuver his trunk through the cluttered home. He had moved close to the large fireplace that dominated the center of the room, and noticed dozens of wizarding pictures on it's mantle. Harry's interest was quickly captured by the numerous pictures of his friends at various ages. He laughed as much younger versions of Fred and George tossed a toddler-aged Ron between them. The young Ron seemed to alternate between having loads of fun, and feeling sick.
He glimpsed a beaming Ginny, holding her Hogwarts letter. There was one of a haggard looking Mrs. Weasley, shouting silently at the twins, who were doing loops on brooms. He continued down the mantle, looking at the multitude of family photos. He saw a picture of Percy, proudly holding his Head Boy badge, flanked by two other similar pictures, holding similar badges. He recognized a younger Charlie and Bill Weasley from their photo from their trip to Egypt they had won last summer.
He stopped on a group of photos, which seemed to have a place of prominence on the mantle. He was surprised to see a tired looking Mrs. Weasley in all of them, but understood when he saw what she was holding tenderly in her arms. Each picture had a different Weasley baby, being held by their proud Mother. He noticed Fred and George's picture, where Mrs. Weasley still looked happy, but would occasionally fall asleep for a minute or two. He stopped on the last picture, where Mrs. Weasley looked the oldest, but was also positively glowing with happiness.
"That was taken just hours after Ginny was born," said a voice from behind Harry, startling him badly.
"Sorry," he said quickly, as he whirled around to face the speaker. "I didn't mean to snoop."
The man smiled, as he offered Harry his hand. "I'm Bill," He said, shaking Harry's hand firmly. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."
"You too," Harry replied, as he took in the eldest Weasley sibling's appearance. He wasn't sure exactly what he'd been expecting, but he knew it wasn't what he saw in front of him. In such close quarters, Harry had to crane his neck to to look up at Bill. He looked extremely cool with his long red hair pulled back into a ponytail, and a large earring with a sharp looking fang on it.
Bill moved over to the picture of Ginny and Mrs. Weasley, leaning down a little to get a better look. "Mum and Dad had wanted a girl so badly," he explained without prompting. "Even if she'd turned out to be a boy, she was going to be their last. I think Mum hoped that she'd have someone to teach the household magic she's spent years perfecting, and having someone to do knitting with, and things of that nature." Bill laughed as he turned back to Harry. "Joke's on them I suppose. She's scrappier than any two of us put together, and rubbish at any of the delicate charms necessary for housework."
He paused for a moment, in which Harry racked his brain, trying to think of what he was supposed to say in response. Before he could come up with anything, Bill was speaking again, though more seriously.
"Listen Harry," He began, looking down so his blue eyes fixed on Harry's green ones. "Sorry to be so blunt, but I wanted to thank you for saving my sister's life a year and a half ago. I considered sending you an owl about it just after, but I decided I'd do it in person when we finally met."
Whatever Harry had been expecting from their conversation, it hadn't been that. "No problem," he replied, as confidently as he could manage. For some reason he felt torn between being intimidated by Bill, and wanting to impress him.
"No problem…" echoed Bill, his eyes still on Harry's, with a small smile tugging at his lips. "Mum and Dad explained to me what happened."
Harry began to feel intensely self conscious. Slaying the basilisk had been much more luck than skill. He probably should have died there in the chamber along with Ginny.
"Later on," Bill continued, "I got Ginny to tell me the full story about what happened down there. About how you killed a massive basilisk to save her. 'No problem' indeed. Ginny wouldn't be here without you, and I wanted you to know how much we appreciate what you did."
Harry felt as though he wanted to clear up the misunderstanding. That he hadn't been heroic, or skilled, or brave. He had been terrified, and very lucky. Had Fawkes not shown up to save him with both the tears to heal him, and the Sword of Gryffindor, they'd have both died down there. He managed a weak, "You're welcome," instead, and finally looked away from Bill's gaze.
Bill smiled at him for a moment longer, before wishing him a good night, and heading around the fireplace toward the stairs. Harry stood awkwardly for a moment, before Hermione piped up from her spot on the armchair.
"He's right you know," she said, having set her book on a nearby table, her place marked by a large tasseled bookmark. Harry turned to her, feeling a little exasperated.
"Not again Hermione," he said, hating the fact that he could tell his cheeks were still flushed from Bill's gratitude. "I've told you before, I wasn't a hero or anything. I casted blindly at it, and then got bitten. I wouldn't have made it without Fawkes and the Sorting Hat."
"Help or no help Harry," she replied, "slaying a basilisk is an impressive feat by itself, not to mention the fact that Ginny would have died without your help." Her tone indicated to him that she thought she had the right of it. Which, if he was being honest, was usually true. He tried to look everywhere but at Hermione. Such a serious and unexpected conversation with Bill had flustered and overwhelmed him.
Thankfully, Hermione seemed to drop it. He was saved any more awkwardness by Mrs. Weasley calling his name from the dining area. He walked quickly to where Mrs. Weasley had prepared him a spot at their large wooden dining table.
"We had a bit of steak and potatoes left for you," she said as he sat down. "I hope it's enough. Ron is going through twice as much food as usual this summer. Growing like a weed…" she trailed off, as thunderous footsteps were descending the stairs.
"Suddenly grown giant's feet have you?" she hollered up the stairs. Harry watched, as she paused for a moment, before she turned a bright, angry red. "Fred! George!" she bellowed around the stairs. "There had better not be anybody with giant's feet in this house!"
"Don't you worry," came one the twin's voices around the corner.
"We haven't fed anyone anything," said the other.
"We haven't even made a Giant's Feet Treat," said the first.
"But we'll get right on it!"
"Thanks for the idea!"
Mrs. Weasley stormed towards the voices, leaving Harry to his food. The stomping had turned out to be Ron, who took a seat next to Harry. Harry was surprised to see that Mrs. Weasley was right, and Ron had indeed grown considerably over the summer.
"Glad you're here mate," he said by way of greeting. "Hermione arrived days ago, but all she does is lounge around and read. Surely she has that book memorized by now."
Harry didn't reply, as he was savoring the meal Mrs. Weasley had given him. The Dursley's didn't starve him really, but he didn't necessarily eat well either.
"Charlie is here too," Ron continued, "but he's already asleep. He had to pull an all nighter last night to get his team ready to work without him for the cup." He glanced back to where Mrs. Weasley was laying into the twins just out of sight. "I expect he's put up some silencing charms though."
Ron paused for a moment, apparently in thought, before continuing.
"Hey Harry, why'd Dad and Fred have to come get you so late? Mom and Dad said they were going to Floo over to meet your Aunt and Uncle. Dad had almost gotten your fireplace temporarily hooked up to the network. They had a bit of an argument about coming to get you at night after your family had gone to sleep, but Dad pointed out that they'd said you could come, and she eventually gave in."
Harry had stopped eating as Ron had asked his question. He thought back to Mr. Weasley expressing reservations about 'secreting him away' in the middle of the night, and felt terrible for having caused an argument between his friend's parents.
"The Dursley's have an electric fireplace," Harry said, pretty sure that Ron wouldn't be as interested as his father was, but figured it was worth a shot anyway. "I doubt they'd have been able to Floo over there at all, and like I said, my Uncle had a big business deal to work out in the morning, and they didn't want to be disturbed the whole day before as they got ready for it." Harry felt a familiar pang of guilt as he lied once again about his relatives. He hated lying to his friends, but he hated the idea of them knowing the truth more.
Ron seemed to digest this, and Harry jumped in with a question of his own in an attempt to distract his friend. "What did your mum mean 'There had better not be anyone with giant's feet' when she was yelling at Fred and George? Why's she yelling at them anyways?"
Ron grinned mischievously as he leaned in closer, which Harry thought unnecessary, as Mrs. Weasley's continued yelling would cover anything they were saying just fine.
"Mum found order forms that Fred and George had made for a joke shop they're working on. They had all sorts of strange candies and trick items on there. She went mental, told them they were wasting their education at Hogwarts and corrupting the younger children. I think she just sees it as the twins making people pay to do their pranking for them." Ron once again looked a little thoughtful. "I'm not so sure that isn't exactly what they're doing," he added after a moment. "Make sure you don't eat anything they give you. Percy did by accident, and his ears grew ten times their normal size."
Harry choked a little on his last bite, trying not to laugh at the image of Percy with elephant sized ears. Mrs. Weasley came back into the dining room, still red-faced, just as Harry finished up.
"I hope you got enough," she said as she sent the plate and silverware flying into the kitchen with a flick of her wand.
"Yes," Harry replied gratefully. "It was wonderful."
"Glad to hear it," she said with a smile, before making a shooing motion at them. "Go on now. You had better head upstairs. You don't have to go to sleep right away, but don't stay up too late. We'll all need to be up and moving by dawn, so get plenty of rest. You don't want to sleep through the World Cup!"
Ron grumbled, but lead the way up the stairs to his room. He suddenly began stamping his feet as they came close to a closed door on their right. Percy's head popped angrily out of the door seconds after Ron began stomping.
"Got giant's feet now have you?" he said crossly, in a passable, if unintentional imitation of his mother.
"Don't think so," Ron said back, matching Percy's irritation. "Still glued to that world-changing cauldron report of yours?"
"You might not find it important," Percy huffed, "but Mr. Crouch needs me to take care of important work like this, while he focuses on...other projects." Percy looked over at Harry, and his face relaxed into a friendly smile. "Welcome to our home Harry. I hope you enjoy your stay." He scowled over at Ron, "If you'll both excuse me." He slammed the door in Ron's face at the word 'me', and Harry could hear him casting a few spells from the other side of the door.
"Git," Ron muttered, as they continued up to Ron's room. "It's been 'Mr. Crouch says this. Mr. Crouch thinks that' the whole time. Between Mr. Crouch, his cauldron report, some missing ministry employee, and some secret he keeps lording over us, he's been extra insufferable lately. And for Percy, that's saying something."
Hermione had caught up with them on her way to Ginny's room for the night. She had walked up while Ron was badgering Percy, and let out a sigh of exasperation.
"He's just doing his job Ron," she remonstrated in a tone that said this wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation. "Getting a job in the ministry directly out of Hogwarts is a major achievement. You should be proud of him." Ron grunted non-comitally in reply.
Hermione stopped at Ginny's room, and bid Harry a goodnight, noticeably omitting Ron, who seemed not to notice. A few steps later, they arrived at Ron's room, where they could hear a racket coming from inside, even with the doors closed. Ron sighed, and opened the door in a resigned sort of way. Harry looked past Ron to see Pig, who was hooting non-stop, flying circles around a snowy owl sitting on top of Ron's dresser.
"Hedwig!" Harry exclaimed, hurrying over to where his familiar was perched. Hedwig gave him a reproachful look, before looking up at the tiny owl flying about. Harry offered Hedwig his arm, who promptly hopped on, all annoyance having left her face. She affectionately nipped at his fingers as he stroked her head. After a moment of reveling in the attention she was receiving, she lifted one of her talons, showing Harry a letter that he hadn't noticed.
Harry untied the letter with his free hand, and moved his other arm closer to the dresser for Hedwig to step off. She reluctantly moved back to the dresser, where Pig had landed. The much smaller owl had not stopped hooting, but was now hopping around the larger owl. Harry payed them no mind as he began to read the letter.
Harry,
I hope you're having a good summer. I've tried to write you this whole time, but your owl wouldn't take any letters to you. I had given up writing to you until you got to Hogwarts, but suddenly she brought me my quill and parchment, and pecked at me until I began writing. Smart bird you've got here, if a bit bossy.
If I had to guess, I would say that you probably aren't allowed to receive owls at your relative's house. I never met Petunia. She refused to come to your parent's wedding, which I expect would've been my only chance. Lily talked about her occasionally, but I got the impression they didn't get along well. Hopefully we'll get this whole Peter situation resolved quickly, and I'll be able to make good on my offer to take you in, if you're still interested.
Buckbeak and I have found a nice place to lay low, though it's a little far, so if you send Hedwig with a letter, it'll take some time to get here. I look forward to catching up in person, when we aren't quite so busy. I didn't get the opportunity to thank Dumbledore for saving us from those dementors by the lake, so when you see him this term, please tell him Snuffles said thank you.
-Your Godfather
"Is it from Sirius?" Ron asked interestedly. Harry noticed he was trying to restrain himself from reading over Harry's shoulder. Harry handed the letter over by way of reply, letting Ron sate his curiosity.
"Wonder where he's staying," Ron said after he'd finished. "Gotta be somewhere far away if it'd take Hedwig a while to get there. She's one of the fasted owls I've ever met." He looked disdainfully at Pig, who had begin flying around the room again. "Not like this ruddy thing," he muttered, snatching a protesting Pig out of the air. He set the small owl on the dresser next to Hedwig, and gestured to the larger bird. "You could learn a thing or two from her."
Pig looked up at Hedwig, and began bouncing around the desk again, hooting loudly. Hedwig gave Harry a sharp look, before she lifted a talon, and pinned Pig to the desk. Ron snorted before flopping onto his bed, which had been transfigured into a bunk bed to accommodate Harry. Harry opened his trunk, which Mr. Weasley had placed at the end of the bed. He dug his pajamas out from underneath the mass of clothes he had tossed in at the end of last term. He tucked the letter from Sirius down in the bottom, next to his invisibility cloak, and closed the trunk. He was glad to finally change from Dudley's old clothes into his pajamas, one of the few pieces of clothing he had been able to purchase for himself at Diagon Alley. He sometimes wished witches and wizards weren't quite so keen on wearing robes all the time.
He climbed up to the top bunk, and flopped face down onto the pillow. He felt the long day catching up with him, despite his excitement with the World Cup and hearing from Sirius. He decided he'd wait until he was back at Hogwarts to write a letter back. He wanted to enjoy Hedwig's company a little before sending her on another long journey.
"You going to sleep already?" Ron asked from the bunk below him.
"I've been up since about five in the morning," Harry explained through a yawn. "Besides, you heard your Mum. We've gotta be up at dawn."
"I know," Ron replied, "but I'm too excited about the cup to sleep." Harry heard him climb out of bed and change into his pajamas as well. "I'm glad your Aunt and Uncle said you could come."
"Me too," Harry said, trying not to think about the Dursley's reaction to his vanishing act come next summer. There wasn't much he could do about it now, so worrying about it was pointless. Despite this, he could feel a knot of anxiety begin to form in his chest. His Uncle had really laid into him during his prison regimen, but he knew he'd be wishing for something as tame as that come next summer. He fought the rising tide of panic at his depressing thoughts by trying to focus on the upcoming Quidditch match instead. He was about to watch some of the best players in the world compete, and would be able to play on his own house team once the Hogwarts term started. The pleasant thoughts of flying, coupled with his exhaustion helped the panic subside, and he drifted quickly off to sleep.
He felt as though he had only just closed his eyes when Mrs. Weasley was gently shaking him awake. He could hear Ron grumbling from below him. "Oh stop complaining Ron," Mrs Weasley admonished as she was leaving the small room. "Don't forget to wear your muggle clothes you two. Be downstairs in ten minutes."
Harry lay still for a moment, the exhaustion of the previous day still feeling heavy on his body. The haziness of sleep quickly lifted, and he remembered where they were headed. He quickly climbed out of bed, and opened his trunk.
"Dunno how you're always so full of energy in the morning," Ron groused into his pillow.
"I've always been able to get up early," Harry said as he pulled Dudley's shirt back out. He frowned at it, wishing again that he had is own muggle clothes to wear. It certainly didn't help things that all the money he possessed was in wizarding currency. "Besides, you get more done in the day if you get up early." He grabbed a small bag of coins he kept in his trunk before shutting it. He was sure there'd be some neat magical keepsakes to buy at the Cup.
"Hermione says the same thing," mumbled Ron, as he rolled slowly out of bed.
Harry went over to Hedwig, who was perched on the open window. He offered her his arm once again, and she happily hopped on for more attention. "I'll be back after the cup," he said, as he scratched her head. "I don't know how long that'll be, but we'll come back here before going to school." Hedwig hooted her understanding, before taking flight out the window.
Hedwig's hoot woke Pig, who had been sleeping where he'd been pinned to the desk. The small owl hooted once, and hopped over to the open window.
"Who's heard of an owl that sleeps during the night," Ron said as he pulled on a bright green shirt. If Pig took offence, he didn't show it, hooting happily once more before hopping out the window, and flying after Hedwig.
"Why'd you name him Pig?" Harry asked, as they started down the stairs. It was something he'd been wondering since he'd gotten Ron's letter.
"Ginny named him actually. Ridiculous name if you ask me."
Ginny's bedroom door opened as they passed it, and she stepped out behind them. She followed them down, Hermione behind her.
"His real name is Pigwidgeon," Ginny explained, the tiredness still evident in her voice. "Ron just can't help being a prat to him." Ron grunted, too tired to take the bait.
"I like him," said Hermione, much more awake than either of the Weasley siblings. Harry knew she was an early riser like him. "Even if he is a little...eccentric." Ron grunted again, though it sounded more like a laugh.
As they stepped off the last stair, they all found themselves with small sandwiches thrust into their hands.
"No time for a proper breakfast," she said, handing Fred and George each a sandwich from the platter she was carrying. Both twins were sitting at the table, both looking ready to doze off sitting up.
"Where's Percy?" Fred asked through a yawn. "Thought he'd be the first one down here since he loves to prattle on about how useful it is to get up early. Probably stayed up all night working on his report and whatever 'Top Secret' thing his girlfriend Mr. Crouch is working on."
"I'm surprised he hasn't let it slip yet," George followed, through a yawn of his own. "Since he can't help but tell us he's not allowed to tell us about 'important ministry secrets'."
"That's enough you two," Mrs. Weasley admonished heatedly. She didn't seem to have forgotten the Giants Feet Treats from the night before. "You two could certainly stand to act a bit more like your older brother. Like any of them for that matter! Percy has done very well for himself to get a job at the Ministry the summer after graduating Hogwarts. You two will be lucky to even be allowed to graduate if you don't start applying yourselves this year. Your little 'project' is only distracting you from…" she trailed off, looking sideways at Fred and George, who suddenly looked far more awake than they had seconds before.
"Pockets." Mrs. Weasley commanded, her finger pointed down at the dining room table.
Fred and George grumbled as they turned out their pockets, socks, and waistbands. Soon a whole quarter of the table was covered in sweets, wands, and firecrackers.
"Is this all of it?" Mrs. Weasley asked cooly.
Fred and George nodded simultaneously, both looking equal parts abashed, and irritated.
Mrs. Weasley pulled her wand out of her apron, and waved it at the twins. "Accio!"
She waiting a few moments before putting her wand back in her apron, satisfied. Before she could say anything else, Mr. Weasley interjected. "Percy will be apparting along with Bill and Charlie. They're all still in bed."
"Been apparating around all summer," Ron muttered to Harry, taking a bite of his sandwich. "Just got his license. He apparates down to breakfast most days."
Before Harry could say anything, Mr. Weasley began rounding them all up. He was dressed in what Harry could only assume was supposed to be a muggle outfit. He walked around the room, handing them each backpacks. "Molly packed yours for you Harry," he said as he offered Harry a patched, faded green backpack. "Off we go now," he said loudly to the small group. "The portkey leaves shortly, and we won't get another chance if we miss it."
"Take care!" Mrs. Weasley called as they filed out the front door. "And behave you two!"
"It's a bit of a walk," said Mr. Weasley as the neared the end of the path leading away from the Burrow. "We should arrive with a few minutes to spare though." The group followed Mr. Weasley quietly, everyone apparently too tired for much conversation. The quiet suited Harry just fine as we walked a few paces back from everyone else. He was excited to go to the Cup, but knew there would be more people there than he had ever seen in one place before. He didn't like being around lots of people, or a lot of noise, and the Quidditch World Cup would have both to spare. It helped that he knew it was coming, and could prepare himself mentally.
He was lost in his thoughts until he noticed Hermione drifting back from the group to walk beside him. He noticed as she approached that he hadn't outgrown her at all. She was still quite a bit taller than him, and her hair only served to make it worse. He felt unaccountably irritated at being the shortest of his friends. He hoped that she wouldn't bring up the conversation they had the night before. He was getting tired of having the same argument a few times per year. He noticed she had a thoughtful look on her face, rather than her usual 'bossy' look, and figured that she hadn't come for that.
They walked in silence for a minute before she spoke. Though only really a moment, it gave Harry ample time to worry about her silence.
"Is everything okay Harry?" Hermione finally asked, in an obvious attempt to act casual. He groaned inwardly. Between Ron asking about his late night pickup, his issues falling asleep the night before because of panicked thoughts of the Dursley's retribution, and now Hermione badgering him, he was beginning to feel as though he were trapped by his family, even though he had escaped. For the briefest of moments, he considered telling her the full tortuous truth, as both her and Ron had indirectly asked about his problems with the Dursleys. He easily quelled the impulse though. Nobody else he knew had to endure the things he did, and he got more than enough attention as the Boy-Who-Lived. He didn't need his moniker to lengthen to, 'Boy-Who-Lives-With-Nasty-People'. He didn't want any more attention, and certainly didn't want his friends to think less of him because of the way he was treated. He didn't like misleading his friend, but the alternative was worse.
"I'm just tired," he said, with a not-entirely-fake yawn for emphasis. It wasn't technically a lie. "It's just past dawn, and I didn't sleep much the night before last either."
Hermione nodded slowly. She glanced over at him, though she tried not to look like she was giving him a quick once-over. He decided that he would definitely need to get some Muggle clothes. Dudley's old clothes made people ask questions, and he just wanted to be left alone. Harry quickened his pace slightly so they would close the small distance between him and the rest of the group, eliminating the pseudo privacy that their distance had afforded her.
Not long after, the group arrived at a steep hill which Mr. Weasley indicated was their portkey meeting place. Ron and the twins grumbled as they began to climb the incline, their walk having done little to dispel the early morning fatigue. As Harry crested the top of the hill alongside Mr. Weasley, he saw two people standing close together, holding what appeared to be an old boot.
"Amos! Good to see you!" Mr. Weasley called.
"Arthur," the slightly older man said, extending a hand. "Good to see you as well. You've made it just in time. About five minutes until the portkey activates." He looked around at the group, who was scattered about catching their breath from the climb. "All of these yours?"
"All but two," Mr. Weasley said, gesturing to Hermione and Harry. "Hermione Granger and Harry Potter."
"Merlin's beard," said Amos, his eyes wide, looking down at Harry. Harry was grateful to see Mr. Weasley wince slightly at having called attention to who his was. "Harry Potter! It's a pleasure to meet you." Harry noticed the man's eyes travel up to his forehead. He was used to it by now, but it still made him feel a bit like a zoo animal.
"Nice to meet you, sir," Harry said, looking away from the wizard's still bulging eyes.
"Amos. Amos Diggory," he said after a moment. "And this is my son Cedric. I believe you two know each other. He told me all about your exciting quidditch match last year."
"Cedric is an excellent seeker," Harry replied lamely, his eyes still on the ground.
"Indeed he is," Mr. Diggory said, with a smile for his son, who was attempting to hide his embarrassment.
Mr. Weasley rescued Harry from the situation when he looked at his watch. "Just about time," he said, gesturing everyone over. "Everyone grab hold." Harry obediently touched the least grimy part of the boot that he could manage, and felt very silly. They stood for a few moments, a great clump of people standing silently on a hilltop, a grimy boot between them. Mr. Weasley began to count down, and when he reached 'one', Harry felt an odd sensation in his stomach, and was jerked forward.
He hadn't known what to expect, having never traveled by portkey , but he certainly hadn't been expecting the mess of colors and howling wind as they all jostled each other around in the bizarre space. Without warning, he felt his feel slam into solid ground, and collapsed with Ron on top of him. Harry quickly staggered to his feet, out from under his friend. He looked around, and saw that only Mr. Weasley, Mr. Diggory, and Cedric had managed to remain standing. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were all getting slowly to their feet. Fred and George were pushing each other over every time one tried to stand.
"Ottery St. Catchpole group," said a tired voice, with the dull tones of someone who has been repeating the same phrase until it lost all meaning. "Please make your way over here. We will locate your campsite for you."
"Hello Basil," Mr. Weasley said cheerfully to the haggard looking wizard.
"Morning Arthur," the squat wizard named Basil replied, only slightly less tiredly than before. "Glad to see you get to attend the cup. We've been here all night…" He trailed off, staring blankly at the clipboard.
"Sorry to hear that," Mr. Weasley said after a moment. "Do you know where our campsite is?"
"Hm? Oh yes, sorry." Harry looked around while Basil looked through the parchments on his clipboard. He saw other zones with rope around each one in a large circle. He watched another, smaller group appear clutching a rolled up newspaper. "First field over that way," he heard Basil say. "You're looking for Mr. Roberts."
"Thanks, Basil. Good luck," Mr. Weasley said, gesturing for everyone to follow him, and calling to Fred and George to quit making a scene.
Harry's feet were throbbing as they approached the misty field. A small stone building appeared suddenly in front of them, with an elderly man standing out front. He showed them the way to their campsite, after Hermione helped Mr. Weasley figure out exactly how much money to give the attendant. Harry was half listening as the old man talked about all the foreigners that were setting up camp in the field, and how bizarrely they acted. Mr. Weasley was doing his best to appear both interested, and surprised by the things Mr. Roberts was saying. Harry noted the strange tents they passed on the way to their campsite, and wondered how Mr. Roberts thought all the wizards were only foreigners.
His question was quickly answered, as a short wizard with a ministry badge walked up out of the mist, and quickly obliviated Mr. Roberts. Harry had a distaste for the memory modification charm after the revelations about Lockhart, but he could certainly see why it was necessary here. He wondered why they had a Muggle tend the field in the first place.
Harry marveled at the lavish campsites they passed on the way to their campsite, which only served to increase his concern about poor Mr. Roberts and his memory. He felt a pang of sympathy for the old man, and hoped he would be okay after the Cup was over. As they arrived at their empty campsite, Mr. Weasley dropped the pack he had been carrying, and turned to address the group.
"We're not supposed to be doing magic when we're all out in great numbers like this," Mr. Weasley said, gesturing to the obviously magical tents and campfires around them. He faltered a bit at the sight, but continued. "Well, we'll follow the rules anyway. We will just have to put up the tents by hand!" He said with an enthusiasm clearly felt by no-one else in the group. He pulled two large canvas tents out of his pack, and handed the smaller of the two over to Hermione and Ginny. He turned to Harry, holding some metal stakes in one hand. "How do you reckon we should start?" He asked Harry excitedly.
Harry fought the small surge of panic at being unable to answer the question. The Dursleys had certainly never taken him on their camping trips, electing to lock him in his room instead. Being stuck in a room for a whole weekend was not something Harry enjoyed, though he did like knowing he wouldn't have to see a single Dursley for a whole weekend. Plus he usually got to eat a much more substantial meal when they returned, as they knew he hadn't eaten. They were also usually in good spirits, for them anyway, after some time away from him. They hadn't been camping in years though, not since Dudley had grown too large for them all to fit in their large tent.
"Uh…" Harry managed, silently lamenting the effect the thought of the Dursleys had on him. He felt like he had molasses where his brain should be every time they came up in his mind, and it took him some time to come back to reality. Growing frustrated with himself, he couldn't help but wish he didn't have all these issues. It certainly wasn't the first time he had wished so, and he suspected it wouldn't be the last. He looked up at Mr. Weasley, who was waiting patiently for a response. "I'm not sure, sir," he said quietly, looking away from the older man. Harry barely managed not to flinch when Mr. Weasley placed a hand on his shoulder, but the effort of it made his whole body tense up.
"No worries Harry," Mr. Weasley said as he removed his hand from Harry's shoulder, and looked over at Ginny and Hermione, who had enlisted Ron to help them set up. "We'll just follow their lead then, sound good?" Harry nodded mutely, accepting one corner of the tent as Mr. Weasley offered it to him.
The sun was well into the sky by the time both tents had been erected. The group stood slightly back to admire their handiwork, before Mr. Weasley gestured them towards the larger tent for a 'tour'. Harry estimated they could all fit, though it might be a bit cozy. He followed Hermione through the open tent flap and his mouth fell open in surprise. He felt a little silly for being shocked, considering all the time he had spent in the magical world, but he supposed Mr. Weasley's admonitions of restricting magic use had kept Harry from considering the possibility. The tent easily held the seven of them, with a bathroom and kitchen off to one side. "It's bigger on the inside," he murmured aloud, looking around. He heard Hermione giggle next to him, and felt his face flush.
"Sorry," she said, covering her smile with her hand. "I wasn't laughing at you. What you said reminded me of an old show my parents used to watch on the telly."
Harry tried to smile back at her, though he'd never seen a television show beyond glimpses of Aunt Petunia's daytime shows as he was cleaning. After the short tour, they all got to work getting everything settled in the two tents. Harry tried to choose a bed that wasn't completely covered in cat hair, but gave it up as a bad job.
Hermione and Ginny left with Fred to go get some water for the campsite, while the rest of them began gathering fallen branches from the nearby cluster of trees. Mr. Weasley handed Harry his box of matches after burning through half the box in amazement. They were getting hungry, and it would be a little while before the fire was hot enough to cook on. The fire was nearly ready when the other group returned with their water.
"Took you long enough," George groused to Ron as they walked up, buckets in hand.
"Ran into Seamus and Dean," Ron said, setting his large bucket down with a groan.
Mr. Weasley had just places his cooking pan on the fire, and put in some eggs and sausage when the elder Weasley siblings came walking up.
"Just apparated in," Percy said, pointedly ignoring Fred's very obvious eye roll.
"Smells good," Charlie said, rubbing his hands together. Mr. Weasley added a second pan to the fire for the new arrivals, whistling as he cooked. Harry recognized Charlie from the Weasley's picture from their trip to Egypt. The second oldest Weasley was an impressive sight. Short, stocky, and muscular, he cut an imposing figure to the skinny Harry. He had a large angry burn on one of his arms, and a few scars marred his face, though his friendly smile kept him from looking too intimidating. Charlie came over to introduce himself to Harry, when they were interrupted when a tall man in yellow and black robes came bounding up, calling Mr. Weasley's name.
"Ludo!" Mr. Weasley called back, waving the man over. "Ludo Bagman," Mr. Weasley said by way of introduction. "He's the whole reason we're all here."
Mr. Bagman smiled at the group and waved, "So this is your family then Arthur?"
Percy quickly stood up, and offered his hand. "Percy Weasley, sir. Pleasure to meet you."
Mr. Weasley continued the introductions, everybody waving as their name was mentioned. Harry was slightly relieved to notice only a small reaction from Mr. Bagman when he was introduced. Better than the usual people who immediately looked up at his scar.
Harry tuned out the conversation as Mr. Bagman began asking Mr. Weasley about placing some bets, though he couldn't help but notice Fred and George as they began whispering to each other, and piling coins on the ground between them. He grabbed a small portion of sausage and eggs, and retreated a small distance away from the fire to eat. The middle of summer was far too warm to be cozied up to such a large fire. He sat down next to Hermione and Ron, who had each grabbed their own plates of food.
The ate in relative silence, listening as Mr. Weasley chastised the twins for spending all their money on, "a fool's bet." Harry noticed that Mr. Bagman had seemed all too happy to pocket their money, despite their age. Mr. Weasley was speaking highly of Ludo Bagman to the group, but Harry now suspected at least some of it was due to Mr. Bagman's position at the Ministry. Not to mention the World Cup tickets.
"Mum will go spare if she finds out Fred and George bet all their money on Quidditch," Ron said, leaning over closer to Harry so he could speak over the dull roar of the other campsites, which had all become more raucous as the day went on. "Though she might go easy on them if she thinks it'll keep them from opening that joke shop."
"Why's she so against their shop?" Harry asked, somewhat surprised that Mrs. Weasley wasn't being supportive of the twin's dream.
"I think she wants everyone in the family to have jobs at the Ministry really," Ron explained, finishing off his second helping of eggs. "Though Bill working for Gringotts seems to be okay, though she doesn't like the more dangerous parts of curse-breaking."
"Surely she doesn't think Fred and George have any interest in the Ministry," Hermione joined in, also leaning close to be heard. "I would think an interest in being entrepreneurs would make her happy. They only seem to like hitting bludgers and getting into mischief. It's good for them to have a goal."
"She might be happy if they wanted to open a bookstore or something," Ron replied.
Harry backed away from the close proximity by masking it in a stretch, and standing up to take his dishes to the kitchen inside. He automatically grabbed Hermione's empty plate, but left Ron his, as he was grabbing a third helping. Hermione thanked him, before admonishing Ron to leave some for the others, noting that Bill and Charlie hadn't eaten yet. Harry grabbed a few other empty plates eliciting a small smile from Ginny, and headed to the tent. The noise of the campground died away as the tent flap closed, to Harry's relief. He suspected there was some sort of charm on the tent, as the noise had almost completely died away. He hadn't noticed how the crowd and the noise was bothering him, but now that it was gone, he felt much better. The feeling didn't last long though, as he thought again about why only he seemed to have these problems. Ron didn't seem to mind the crowds, and the noise, nor did Hermione or any of the other Weasleys.
Harry grabbed the small bucket of water next to the sink, and poured it in. He began vigorously washing the dishes as he lamented his issues. He just wanted to be left alone, he didn't want people looking at his scar, and he didn't want people hugging or grabbing him. He considered it a moment, and admitted that he actually just wished that he didn't always tense up when Mrs. Weasley hugged him, or on the rare occasion that Hermione did so. It made him extremely happy that Mrs. Weasley was always so pleased to see him. She was the first and only person to ever greet him in such a way. Hagrid always had a hearty hello for him, but Mrs. Weasley seemed to treat him almost like one of her own.
That thought brought a slight pause to Harry's cleaning, as he imagined what it would be like to live with the Weasleys all the time. He wondered if he'd be allowed to do magic while he cleaned. That'd certainly make life a lot easier. He expected Mrs. Weasley would appreciate the break that having him around to do the chores would offer. It'd be much more bearable doing all the work he usually did if it was all appreciated. He knew he'd never get anything like that from the Dursleys.
Once again, the thought of his Aunt and Uncle seemed to turn his mind to mud, as he began to clean faster in frustration. He had already finished the dishes, and had moved to sweeping the surprisingly wooden floors of the tent with a broom he found stashed by the bathroom. There was a lot of cat hair on the floor as well, which made it a little more difficult to get it as clean as he preferred. He had begun his second pass of the floor when he was startled by a voice.
"Harry?" Hermione said tentatively from the small entranceway. "Are you okay?"
Harry concealed his annoyance at being asked the same question twice in one day. "Yeah," he said smiling at her. "Trying to get rid of some of the cat hair, make it a little cleaner in here." Instead of being reassured, she frowned further at him, letting the tent flap close behind her.
"You were scowling at the floor as you swept," she said quietly, not taking her eyes off him.
The scrutiny made him extremely anxious, and he looked away from her concerned gaze. He tried to gather his thoughts, jumbled as they were. He wanted nothing more than to not have to talk about the Dursleys with anyone, let alone one of his closest friends. He just wanted to forget about them, and enjoy this once in a lifetime opportunity. He furiously quelled his rising panic. He didn't want his closest friends to know about his treatment at the hands of the Dursleys, but there were only so many times he could freak out about it in one day before he began to get angry with himself. He could handle it on his own, but he knew Hermione was the smartest of them, and the fact that she had approached him twice meant she felt like she was on to something. He knew her well enough to know she wouldn't let anything go until she had satisfied her curiosity. He didn't want to be having this conversation, and hoped he could satiate her curiosity with some of the truth.
"Please keep it to yourself," he said, feeling unaccountably vulnerable admitting even some of the truth. "I didn't ask the Dursley's if I could come," he said quickly, still looking down at the floor.
"But why not?" Hermione asked, sounding mildly perplexed.
"You know they don't like magic," Harry said, glancing at her to see her nod. He had told his friends simply that the Dursley's didn't like magic, not the extent of their dislike. "If I'd asked them if Ron's family could floo over to take me to the Quidditch World Cup, they'd have a fit. I expect I'll be in pretty big trouble next summer for running off."
He could see Hermione digest what he said, and squint her eyes in thought. He hoped that she left it at that. She knew that he didn't like talking about his family, and he was more than a little annoyed that she kept bringing it up. "It's too late to do anything about it I suppose," she said finally. "But you really shouldn't antagonize them if you can help it," she added, a trace of her bossiness coming out. "I know you said they don't like magic, but sneaking away is bound to have consequences whether magic is involved or not," she admonished him.
Harry stared at her blankly for a moment, her words slowly sinking in. He shouldn't antagonize them? A brief flicker of anger at her words died as he considered her statement a little longer. He knew now he had used magic to set the snake on his cousin at the zoo when they were much younger. The event which had triggered the Dursley's increased resentment of him. There was also the time when his Aunt Marge had come over, and he had actually argued with her when she had begun talking badly about his parents. He had a rough couple of weeks after that, even after his Aunt had left. He knew what the Dursleys were like, and yet he continued to do things that made his time there more difficult. Perhaps there was some truth to what Hermione said. Maybe he wasn't really as compliant as he liked to believe.
"I suppose you're right," he said quietly after a moment, feeling very tired all of the sudden. "I just really wanted to see the Quidditch World Cup. We don't get a chance like this every day," he said, only a partial lie. All he had really wanted was to do was get away from Privet Drive. He glanced up at Hermione to see her face soften only slightly.
"Well, like I said, it's too late to do anything about it. You had might as well enjoy yourself I suppose. I promise I won't tell anyone. I expect it would make Ron's parents very uncomfortable to know they came to get you without permission." She turned to leave. "I doubt you'll get the cat smell out just by sweeping, so come on out soon. You missed some interesting conversations between Mr. Bagman, Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Crouch, who showed up just as you came inside."
"I'll be right out," Harry said, beginning to sweep again, hoping that she'd leave him be for a little bit. "Almost finished."
Hermione left without saying anything else, for which Harry was grateful. He didn't like what she had said about how he acted towards the Dursleys, but it did make a weird bit of sense. He had always tried to ignore their jabs about being a worthless troublemaker, which seemed to be their favorite descriptor of him. It fit well with the lie they had crafted to cover his yearly absences to Hogwarts. Hermione was right though, he did cause trouble from time to time.
He sighed as he finished sweeping. He didn't want his time at the World Cup to be tainted by weighty thoughts of his home life. He hoped Hermione had satisfied herself with their discussion, and would leave him to try and enjoy himself. She had been completely right about one thing though, there would certainly be consequences next summer.
Harry placed the broom back where it belonged once he had swept the large mound of hair into a small bin in the kitchen. He took a moment to gather himself before heading back out to join his friends. Sure it was noisy, and he'd been pestered a lot by Hermione, but this was the Quidditch World Cup! Despite the way he felt at the moment, he was also still extremely excited to watch a professional Quidditch match. Ron regularly talked about them when they were at school, but seeing one in person would be a whole different experience. He did his best to hold on to that excitement as he stepped out of the tent.