Hobo Potter
By Marz
Chapter 2: Boxes and Cups
Mrs. Weasley made us breakfast. I pretended to eat. The food smelled very good but Charlie had warned me that portkeys were not a stomach friendly method of travel. I looked across the table and saw Ron, Fred, and George were well into their fifth helping of sausages. I was concerned.
It was still dark when we started walking. Charlie, Bill, and Percy weren't coming until later because they could apparate. Ginny, Fred, George, and their dad were all very happy as they started off. Ron and Hermione were shooting me concerned looks. As we walked along the dark path behind Mr. Weasley, a feral kitten darted across our path. Something just occurred to me, and right then I didn't know who to feel sorry for.
"That looks rather like…" Hermione started to say.
"It does, doesn't it?" I replied conversationally.
Interlude: Number 4 Privet Drive
"I'm certain I heard something," Petunia Dursley hissed into her husband's ear.
Vernon Dursley attempted to roll away from her and tumbled over the side of the bed. There was a moment of almost complete silence, like that following a clap of thunder, and then he heard it too; giggling.
"It's coming from the wall!" Petunia hissed.
Vernon grabbed the side of the bed and heaved himself to his feet. He stepped into his slippers and carefully approached the wall. A picture of the Dursley family swayed slightly on its hanging. Vernon pressed his ear to the sheetrock. The giggling came again. It was definitely inside the wall. Vernon tapped it with his finger. Something tapped back.
"Do you think it's something of…his?" Petunia asked, near panic.
Vernon tapped again.
"Should we call him back? Make him take it away?" she asked.
"Those freaks will only make things worse," Vernon growled.
The giggling came again. It wasn't so loud really.
"We'll sleep with ear plugs in," he declared.
Petunia nodded solemnly. It took her several minutes to fetch them from the medicine cabinet in their bathroom. She had originally purchased them to block out her husband's snoring. They settled under the blankets again. The room was completely silent, but as the sun came up she could see the pictures swaying on the walls, as…whatever it was ran back and forth.
She twisted the blankets with her fists. Vernon was asleep already. If she complained to the wizards they would have to come and remove it. The boy would probably be in trouble for leaving it there too. She ground her teeth. That horrible thing was running around her perfect home like some horrible rodent. It might even be a rodent. She'd never even looked in the boy's trunk. He could have brought all sorts of horrible vermin in. She couldn't go back to sleep. Instead she pulled on her housecoat. If she got up now, she'd have time to mop the entire kitchen before making breakfast. Something else occurred to her then. If the boy wasn't around to feed the thing, it would probably starve to death in a few weeks anyway. She nodded to herself as she started towards the door, shaking the ear plugs loose. A foul vapor tickled the end of her nose, like something stuck on a burner in the oven.
"Vernon," she hissed. "What's that smell?"
"Smell!" called a giggling voice from inside the wall.
End Interlude
"Where's the Pooka?" Hermione asked suspiciously.
"I guess he didn't feel like coming," I said.
We cut through the village of Ottery St. Catchpole, and started up Stoatshead Hill. I was starting to see red at the edge of everything. The Weasleys were all getting very far ahead of me, and I could hear Mr. Weasley muttering for us to hurry. Then I heard him shout a greeting to someone named Amos.
"Come on, Harry," Hermione said. "It's not that much further."
I nodded and it made my head spin.
"Everything alright down there?" called an unfamiliar voice.
I peered up at the tall figure coming down the hill. I recognized him then, Cedric Diggory, the captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. He came to a stop in front of Hermione and I, with one foot resting on rock and his fists propped against his waist. He seemed to be striking some sort of modeling pose.
"We're fine," Hermione said. "Harry's just not feeling very well. He's getting over the flu."
"Hurry up you lot!" called Mr. Weasley. "The Portkey leaves in forty seconds!"
"We're coming!" I called rather hoarsely.
I took a staggering step forward, directly into a rabbit hole, and fell on my face.
"Here, up you go!" Cedric said.
I thought he was just going to help me to my feet, but very suddenly I was getting a piggyback ride. I saw Hermione running along beside us looking far to amused. I'm fourteen for Merlin's sake, the only excuse I can properly have for requiring someone else to carry me is some sort of limb amputation. I tried to look unembarrassed as Cedric set be down in front of the Weasleys.
"We made it," Cedric declared, as he struck another pose.
"Thanks," I muttered.
"Trouble, Harry?" Mr. Weasley asked.
"No, sir."
I took a step toward the group, right into another rabbit hole. The ground rushed up and hit me.
"How many bloody rabbits can there be on one hill?" I growled, still face down in a clump of prickly grass.
"That's Harry Potter?" asked another unfamiliar voice.
There was far too much emphasis on the "That's" for my liking.
"Lay off Dad," commanded Cedric.
I got up under my own power this time and made it to the group, who were all standing with their hands on a boot so filthy it looked like something the Dursleys would make me wear. I put my hand on the boot too, hopping this was the portkey rather then some Quidditch good luck ritual.
There was a painless but intrusive sensation as something hooked through my guts, and then the world spun away in a blur. I thanked Charlie with every dry heave that I hadn't eaten breakfast. The ground rushed up and hit me again. This time I couldn't blame any rabbits. I heard grunts as the others landed. I got up just in time to see Mr. Weasley and Cedric's father land neatly on their feet.
"See you at work, Amos," Mr. Weasley said.
"Goodbye Arthur," the man replied.
He and Cedric wandered up another hill. I realized there were other wizards standing around as they shooed us away. Apparently another portkey was going to land there in the next minute. We scurried up another hill, finally coming to a little cabin. There was a man on the porch with the word "manager" stitched onto the pocket of his shirt. Mr. Weasley paid for a campsite, with a bit of help counting out muggle money from Hermione and me. The manager seemed to think we were from another country. I was a bit shocked when a wizard walked up to him and shouted "Obliviate!". The camp manger looked rather confused and wandered away. The wizard who had just erased the man's memory complained about nosy muggles before marching off after him. It seemed rather unwarranted to me. We continued over the hill to the camp.
The smells hit me in the face like a wet mop, clogging my nostrils and making my eyes water.
"Harry?" Hermione asked, forcing a handkerchief into my hands.
I pressed it over my face to stop the ooze. I didn't think anything was worse then Hogwarts, with its deodorant failure and unwashed socks, but I was wrong. 100,000 wizards camping was a whole other level of worse. I started to gag.
"Are you alright?" Mr. Weasley asked.
"Fine-urgh-sir," I said between convulsive swallows.
I didn't see much of the camp as we walked to the Weasley's reserved lot, but the smell told me what was what; fires, wet wood and those made from burning garbage were at the top of the list, followed by the assorted meals cooking over them, curry, cinnamon, fish soy, and more I couldn't yet name. The latrines were upwind. There were other things in the air too. Things I could only call magic.
I slumped down on the balding lawn and tried to focus looking at things rather then smelling them.
"Something wrong?" asked Fred and George in stereo.
I removed the handkerchief to respond and they both made unhappy faces.
"Thing' I'mb combing down with something," I said, pressing the handkerchief back as I felt snot running down onto my upper lip.
"Well we'll just go over there…"
"…incase its catching."
Hermione finally got the tents assembled. We all went inside. It reeked of cats. We all went outside.
"Maybe Cedric's dad hit you with a dribbling hex," Fred suggested, as we sat on the lawn.
"Don't be silly," Mr. Weasley said. "It's probably just pollen. Fred why don't you go fetch some water. We'll make tea. That'll fix you right up."
Fred and George returned an hour later with Bill, Charlie and Percy in tow. They had managed to loose the bucket they'd gone to fill.
"What's wrong with him?" Percy asked pointing at me. "Because if he's ill, I can't sit next to him. I can't afford to miss work."
I said "uh."
Charlie came over and waved his wand in my face. A moment later the world stopped stinking, and all I could smell was my own breath, which wasn't all that great, but it was vastly better then 100,000 campers using pit toilets.
"What spell was that?" I asked Charlie.
"Modified bubble charm. We use them when we're around dragons, to keep the smoke out. If you make it a bit stronger you can use it to breath under water. I'll show you how to cast one when we're back at the Burrow."
"Thanks," I said, though I thought I could repeat it myself already.
Ron, Hermione, and I wandered off shortly after that, when a couple of Mr. Weasley's coworkers stopped by to discuss the logistics of setting up the campsite. The bubble charm was starting to wear off, but I think I was getting used to the smells by then. As I was buying Omnioculars for the three of us at a gift shop, a man walked by. He didn't stand out in any particular way. His cloths were plain. He was clean shaven and his hair was a nondescript brown and neatly combed. I didn't know him but he seemed very familiar. Instinctively I sniffed the air, and the bubble charm gave way with a soft pop. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. The man was looking back at me now, sniffing the air as well. Our eyes met. Werewolf.
The only other werewolf I had met was Professor Lupin, and I wasn't really sure what the proper social procedures were. I nodded. The man raised an eyebrow and nodded back, and then disappeared into the crowd.
"Who was that?" Ron asked.
"I don't know," I said.
Ron bought a Viktor Krum action figure. Apparently Krum was the best seeker in the world. Krum was also on the Bulgarian team, while Ron claimed to be cheering for their opponents, Ireland. I asked him if it was a conflict of interest, but he overdramatically put his nose in the air and declared that there was nothing wrong with appreciation talent.
We got back to the campsite just as the gongs started up. As one all the people in the came ground walked towards the stadium. Charlie asked me if I wanted a new bubble charm, but I turned it down. Either I was used to the smells, or I had run out of snot.
Mr. Weasley had seats in the top box. The up side was that the higher we went the clearer the air got. The down side was we had to get there by way several thousand stairs. I was breathing rather heavily as I stumbled into the heavily carpeted luxury box.
We filed into our seats in front of a very disturbed house elf, who appeared to be playing peek-a-boo. For a moment in thought it was Dobby, the mad elf who had stalked me throughout my second year of school. But as I continued to gasp for air I realized the elf was a she. She looked into the stadium and gave a startled shriek.
"Are you alright Miss?" I asked.
She peeked out of between her fingers. "Winky is fine sir. Winky does not like heights."
"But it's worth it for Quidditch right?" I said, trying to be friendly.
"Winky doesn't much like Quidditch, sir."
"Why'd you buy tickets then? I heard seats this high up cost a fortune."
"Winky did not buy tickets sir. Winky does not have money. Winky is watching Master's seat for him, until he gets here," Winky said pointing at the apparently chair behind me.
"That seat?" I asked pointing at the same chair.
The hair on the back of my neck was standing up again. My ears wanted to twitch, but they were too short. There were too many heart beats in the box, too many people breathing.
I probably should have been shrewder about it, but the words just came out of my mouth, "You know there's already somebody sitting there, right?"
Several things happened in the next half second. The elf lunged at the invisible man in the chair. I started to pull my wand and it was snatched from my finger tips. Arms appeared as an invisibility cloak dropped away. The half visible man in the chair dived at me. The elf was shouting. Most of the Weasleys were looking the other way as the Minister of Magic was entering the box at that very inconvenient moment. They were just turning toward me as my back side hit the safety railing and my attacker's momentum toppled us both over edge.
I'm not afraid of heights and for the most part free falling doesn't bother me either. Of course most of the time I have my broom somehow attached to me, so I can stop falling when the need strikes me. The cloak had slipped off of the man who had pushed me. He was pale and sickly with washed out blonde hair and overly wide eyes. He smiled at me and vanished with a wave of my wand. I kept falling, shocked faces blurring passed me. I glanced over my shoulder and saw the ground getting very close. I wondered why, with 100,000 wizards in about four acres of space, nobody was indulging me with a levitation charm.
Then my arm popped out of the socket. I hadn't felt his hand on my wrist until the guy on the broom hit the breaks. Everything went dark for a second. An arm closed more securely around my waist, and we descended at a much more reasonable speed down to the pitch. I'd been caught with about fifteen feet to spare. My feet hit the grass and I collapsed on my knees suddenly nauseous. I guess my stomach had finally caught up with me.
"Are you alright?' asked a voice with an eastern European accent.
"Yes thanks," I said, looking back up at the box. I could see a few bright red dots, which I assumed were assorted Weasleys peering down at me.
"I saw you from our locker room," said my rescuer as he pulled me to my feet, and we looked each other in the face for the first time.
"You're Viktor Krum!" I said stupidly, as if he didn't know. Fortunately he was saying "You're Harry Potter!" at the same time, so I didn't feel so bad.
Then security was all around us. People were pushing us around and someone was tugging on my injured arm. A balding man was shouting in my face and cameras were going off. Krum was pushed off one way and I was pushed off in the other. People shouted at me all the way back to top box. I tried to shout back.
"I was pushed."
"He apparated away!"
"He didn't say anything!"
"I don't know him!"
Suddenly Kingsley Shacklebolt, an Auror I'd met the previous year was standing in front of me.
"Hurt?" he asked.
I pointed at my injured arm with the functional one. He waved his wand it popped back into the socket. I didn't even have time to yelp. Aurors were sweeping the top box for more hidden assassins. Winky was talking to the Aurors. Lucius Malfoy had ended up in the box somehow and was sneeringly answering questions as well. The chaos went on for another fifteen minutes. By the end the Aurors still couldn't figure out if the invisible nut job was after the Minister of Magic (Cornelius Fudge who is in charge of the magical government of England), the Minister of Bulgaria (who was coming in with Fudge, and has quite a few political enemies apparently), or me (who everyone likes to shoot at on general principle). Fudge kicked them all out and started off the match.
The match was rather sad. Apparently the only really good player for Bulgaria was Viktor Krum. Ireland was kicking the snot out of them, and despite a fight between the Leprechaun mascots the Irish brought and the Veela the Bulgarians brought, the game was over pretty quickly. Krum caught the snitch and ended the game with his team ten points behind. A lot of people jeered him for it, but it was obvious his team was never going to catch up. I don't think it was that big of a loss. The Quidditch cup was pretty hideous.
Strangely enough Fred and George had bet on that exact outcome with one of their dad's coworkers, Ludo Bagman. The jerk "accidentally" tried to pay them with vanishing Leprechaun gold instead of real Galleons, but I pointed his "mistake". Fred or George asked me how I knew. I couldn't very well say it smelled too magic, but my brain came up with something.
"It was way too clean to be real money. I remember the teacher telling us in primary school that most of the money in circulation has either cocaine or feces on it," I explained.
"What's cocaine?" asked Mr. Weasley, suddenly butting in.
"It's this white powdery stuff that muggles use to get high," I said nervously.
"Do they?" Mr. Weasley asked. "I thought they used arrow-planes. Do you know where I can buy some?"
"Uhhhh…."
Fortunately Hermione came in with an explanation before I accidentally sent Mr. Weasley off to score some coke.
The Aurors met up with us at the Weasley campsite, and asked us all the questions they had asked us in the top box again. Apparently they were leaning toward one of the Ministers being the target, since the assassin didn't shot me right when I sat down in front of him. That sort of made sense to me. I wanted that to be the reason I guess, so when they asked if I wanted them to post a guard outside the Weasley's tents, I said no. I really wish I hadn't.