The combined efforts of Harry, Pansy, and Sirius have gotten a fire going, sufficient enough to cook themselves breakfast. But Pansy seems to be having a bit too much fun with the matches as she accidentally drops more than a few right at her feet. "Aaa! I'm gonna burn!"
Harry leaps up from his stool to grab Pansy away from the burst of flames at her feet, but is outmanoeuvred by her mother. To his utter bewilderment, Mrs. Parkinson immediately disappears in a black, smoke-like manner before reappearing to grab her daughter and leap over the flames.
"What did I tell you about not messing around with matches here?" Mrs. Parkinson has Harry douse the flames before Pansy speaks.
"And what did I tell you about not disapparating like that, mom? You're supposed to do it the normal way, not like that anymore," scolds Pansy, before lowering her gaze once glared at by her mother.
"Doesn't matter, you could've hurt yourself now. Not like these Ministry folks walking up and down will take kindly to magic being used here," replies Mrs. Parkinson.
Harry, meanwhile, whispers to Sirius, "Was that apparition?"
"Not exactly, well, kind of. The normal way is just disappearing and reappearing somewhere, with a pop sound. Although this is still similar I think, just the Death Eaters' way of trying to look different," whispers Sirius. They watch as Pansy reluctantly hands over the box of matches before she eventually cheers up.
"Let's go walk around a bit, I wanna see who's here," she says, before grabbing Harry by the hand.
The latter glances back at his godfather warming up a meal, while Mrs. Parkinson heads inside with some dirty dishes. "Sirius, you coming?"
"Think I'll stay here for awhile." He lowers his tone before pointing to the tent, "And keep an eye on her, no offense, little Parkinson."
"Hmph, my mommy's a good person. But fine, suit yourself, Mr. Black." Pansy now walks down a stretch of pathway to the right of their tent, with Harry staying beside her. With the sun having risen a fair bit, the city of tents around them comes into view, showing Harry just how big the Wizarding World can be.
Adult witches and wizards gradually exit their tents to cook their morning meals, with some sneakily casting spells to light their fires. Children as young as probably four play around with all sorts of magical toys. This often results in Ministry officials hurriedly consulting their parents about secrecy in broad daylight.
"Ha, look at the little buggers go. Mom says I was just as active when I was that age," says Pansy, while stopping beside a confused Harry to watch the kids playing.
"Okay, that was random. Can't quite comment on being active, seeing as the most exercise I got was running from my cousin. But hey, I'm sure plenty of other kids enjoyed being cooped up in a cupboard beneath a staircase."
Pansy remains focused upon the handful of children running around a nearby tent. Her expression now unusually soft compared to how she's seen at school. Harry, meanwhile, stands impatiently before Pansy finally decides to continue walking, then she gasps out loud.
"Oh my God!"
"What? What's gotten your knickers in a twist?"
Pointing ahead excitedly, she draws Harry's attention towards a rather surly faced poster, moving as all Wizarding pictures do. It appears to be a young man simply blinking and scowling. "That's Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker! He's so young, only eighteen, and already a handsome world-famous star of his country," says Pansy, whose voice almost squeals in excitement.
Something turns in Harry's stomach, a sinking feeling in his chest as he grits his teeth. "So? Who cares? Look at him..."
"I so wish we had one of those posters. Actually, all these Bulgarian supporters do have. Maybe we should go in and ask for one?"
Harry groans loudly at the swarm of tents fervently showing their support in this Final. While far behind them a swarm of green shamrock covers the Irish supporters. "This is like Gryffindor vs. Slytherin again, reddish colours against green. Hope the green wins, hey look who's coming up the path."
Looking right at the four way intersection of gravel, Harry sees two girls partly-walking, somewhat-dancing. They appear to be all smiles while holding each other by the hand and dancing to their own tune.
"Daphne! Astoria! It's the Greengrass girls, you're not supporting Ireland by any chance, are you?" Harry asks, while running up to the cheerful sisters. "Get it? Green-grass?"
The joke is met with giggles from the younger sister, and a friendly hug from Daphne, who speaks, "Thanks for the birthday present! Fancy meeting you two here today, how's the holidays been treating you, Harry?"
He explains about the Black family home, but makes it pretty clear that he cannot divulge its location. Though it hardly bothers the girls who are more happy for him than anything else.
"Ha, that's one way to spend your holidays. Well at least you had magic to help you, screw the Trace, man. Oh, would you like to come meet my family? Mum, dad, and some distant relatives have all pitched together." The Greengrass sisters happily lead Harry and Pansy towards a surprisingly modest-looking tent. And it appears that there's at least a handful of adults, more brunettes than blondes, present.
"Mum, dad, aunts and uncles, oh and cousin too, we'd like you all to meet... ta-da! The Boy-Who-Lived!" Astoria makes an exaggerated bow beside an amused Harry, who instantly finds himself swarmed with handshakes and greetings. He can scarcely remember the names of those introducing themselves to him.
"Now this is more like it, Harry getting the respect he deserves," says Pansy, while standing in the pathway facing the Greengrass tents. "So, anyone else we know nearby?"
Daphne turns to Pansy while Harry busies himself with the family. "I'm sure I caught a glimpse of Marcus Flint farther down the pathway. His whole family is Quidditch-nuts, and don't seem too bothered that he's repeating."
"I guess all the Cups and matches he's won with our team's been an accomplishment enough already," says Pansy, before Harry walks over to her. His expression of joy bringing a smile to her face. "Enjoy your moment of fame, Potter boy?"
"Hell yeah! Man, Daffy girl, your family is so chilled out for...well... you know." Harry tries to find a nice way to explain his thoughts, though Daphne picks up on his words.
"For a mostly-Pureblooded bunch? We don't really care too much about that old way of thinking. Excessive obsession with blood status might lead to some nasty side-effects, so we keep it cool. Most of us are Pure-Blooded yes, but there's the occasional Half in there too."
"Well count me in as the occasional Half family friend I guess, or celebrity. Whichever you prefer," says Harry, before laughing.
"Come on, Harry, let's head down the path and see who else we know. Daphne's too attached to her family to join us, right?" asks Pansy, to which both Greengrass sisters agree.
"We'll see each other at school for a whole year anyway. Hope you don't mind if I stay with this lovable bunch?" asks Daphne.
"She's just happy that she's fussed over by lots in our family, just 'cos she's very pretty. Daphne's like the family 'Princess' or something, honestly," whispers Astoria.
"I think you're both nice, all of you actually," replies Harry, before walking down the pathway with Pansy at his side. As they walk past tents, and people of all nationalities, Harry loses count of names and the amount of stares he gets. The Boy-Who-Lived seems to extend in fame beyond the United Kingdom, which surprises him a fair bit. But at the far end of the pathway comes a T-junction, where a familiar, almost commanding voice can be heard.
Harry turns left at the junction and spots an open patch of grass. A dozen youngsters, probably too young for Hogwarts, enthusiastically race up and down while being ordered around by an older student.
"Faster! Move it, kids! You must be FIT to endure long Quidditch games on a broom. It ain't as EASY as it looks. You need STRENGTH in those legs to help with balance! Down, pushup time! Come on, those arms need to be STRONG to hold onto the moving broom. Working the bat, Quaffle, or trying to get the snitch needs POWER! WORK IT!"
Pansy stands beside Harry as both find themselves laughing at the unexpected scene before them. "No way, Marcus Flint turns out to be a softie with kids? Never could've imagined it," she says.
"What's this? Some junior Quidditch scout camp or something?" asks Harry amusingly, before Flint runs over to firmly shake his hand.
"HERE'S OUR BOY! NUMBER ONE CHASER AND SEEKER ON THE TEAM! HE'S THE BEST OF SLYTHERIN, SO LOOK HERE!" shouts Flint towards the awestruck children racing to crowd around Harry. "Care to meet the family? Mum and dad are both Quidditch fanatics, but dad can't decide who to support in the league. So he cheers them all on."
Once again, Harry meets another set of relatives to someone he knows. This time he steps into the Flint family tent which resembles a lavish cottage. Posters of nearly every team in the league adorn the dining area, while it's also clear that quite a bit of the family's been in Slytherin.
To Harry's surprise he even finds a list of Slytherin team members during Flint's years at school, including his name as well. The reception from Mr. and Mrs. Flint makes it clear that they're proud of both their son and the team's consistent performance on the field. Somewhere along one of the walls sits a handmade banner depicting the Inter-House Quidditch Cup and the years Slytherin have won it.
"Some of my cousins have been in Ravenclaw, and two have even passed out in Gryffindor in the past, believe it or not," says Flint, while giving a tour of the interior cottage.
After downing a free Butterbeer on behalf of the Flint parents, Harry even cleans the goblet before exiting the house. Though right at the door he finds himself stopped by a pigtailed little girl demanding his autograph.
"Marcus! How could you not even introduce me to Harry Potter right here in our tent?" she scolds, while looking up at him.
"Bah, this is Irma, my bratty little sister," mutters Flint, while trying to shoo the girl away. "Calm down, pipsqueak, you're starting school this year, duh."
"Shut up and lemme give the quill to Harry Potter!" retorts Irma.
Pansy sniggers, before speaking as they stand at the front door. "You're starting at Hogwarts this year? That's cute, try and be a Slytherin. Although you can't really choose—"
"Actually, you sorta can," says Harry, remembering how he very nearly became a Gryffindor. Which he reckons might've changed a fair bit. "If you really wanna be a Slytherin, the Sorting Hat will take it into consideration."
"Marcus, you never told me about the Sorting Hat."
"Well now you heard about it, so stop pestering me. And wait until school starts to get that autograph, argh! Cheers, Harry, catch you later. Or in the school year," says Flint, before Harry bids the family farewell.
"Did he just call you by your first name? That's kinda new," says Pansy, as they walk back down the pathway, past nearly a dozen whispering children.
Harry softly laughs before replying, "I pity anyone who messes with the sister of Marcus Flint this year. You don't reckon that's why he's so chilled about repeating? Because he gets to see her at school? Hmm, come to think of it he did mention 'unfinished business' at the end of term."
Pansy adopts a thoughtful expression, "I've heard that it's especially those kinda siblings that fight who you shouldn't mess with. Bet you he'd never tell Irma how much he loves her as a sister. Wish I had siblings..."
"Too bad about your father, and even worse that nobody knows how he died. Change topic I guess..." Harry sees the brief look of hurt on Pansy's face before she responds.
"I already told you that mom and I have made peace with that. So, let's head down that path as far as we can." Pansy leads Harry straight down a path between countless tents, and Magical folk speaking many different kinds of languages. At some point Harry hears the words 'No-Maj' and 'Muggle' as British and American families chat around a campfire.
"Harry? Harry Potter! Over here!" A familiar voice soon calls out, which Harry spots as being none other than Oliver Wood.
"Hey, Oliver, I see you've gotten my farewell gift," says Harry, upon spotting the boy's family crowding around his new Keeper gear and Nimbus 2001.
"Best gift EVER! I swear this is the BEST. The shock of when those owls came, man, thanks a lot! I'll be sure to work my way up from Puddlemere United's reserve team soon. Hopefully make the first team some day. Thanks a bunch..."
Harry lets the show of gratitude continue for the next minute before Oliver finally introduces him to his family. As expected, they all seem absolutely chuffed over his brand new Quidditch gear. It may not be a Firebolt, but the Nimbus 2001 remains on many a national team's roster, more than enough for a local club's reserve Keeper.
From here on out, Pansy and Harry continue to explore their way down many a pathway. "It's always amazing how you manage to juggle all these friendships, you know? I mean, after all the grief you've given team Gryffindor, those players still don't really hate you," says Pansy.
"It's not easy and I won't lie about it. Being friendly to some comes with the cost of other friendships. Just look at my dormitory and see for yourself."
"No need to remind me about that. Frankly, I'm disappointed in Zabini because I really thought he'd see sense. But he's taken to linking up with Nott and they're not gonna be your friends anytime soon. Speaking of which, I see the Nott family over there"—Pansy points out a tent in the distant corner at two pathways—"See that man over there with the gown on? That's Theodore Nott's father. Just call him Nott Senior. Ugly, isn't he?"
Harry is pulled away from being seen by the Notts, before being led down another pathway to the right. "What makes you say that?"
Pansy puts on an exaggerated shivering gesture, "He tried to propose to my mother back in '89, not too long after losing his wife. I would pity them, had the Notts not been so... I dunno... annoying. But mom would never wed that old man, even if he was decades younger."
"And why's that?" Harry winks towards a pair of whispering French girls, while speaking with Pansy as they walk.
"Mom says dad was a fun guy, well, as fun as life could be serving the Dark Lord. She's not into guys way older than her or that ragged-looking. Seriously, Nott Senior looks like a homeless man in some ways, even when he's clean-shaven."
"Looks like you narrowly dodged having Theodore as your stepbrother. At least then he wouldn't sneak a look at you, like I've occasionally seen him do since start of this year," says Harry, before Pansy groans and briefly brings her head to his shoulder.
"Please, oh my gosh, noooooo. Even if he was my stepbrother that wouldn't change a thing. The only reason mom is into this Pureblood stuff is because Voldemort is certainly still out there. I tell you, one day when he's gone she'll change completely. And before you ask, it doesn't really matter that you're a Half-Blood, 'cos you're talented and famous," says Pansy.
"I'll never understand you people. So over Pureblood stuff but here you are all mad over a Half-Blood like me. You're weird, Pansy."
"Haha, thanks, whatever."
They continue walking down the road until coming across Pansy's cousin, who Harry finally gets to meet. But his gaze falls soon upon one of her friends who immediately grabs his attention, and Pansy sighs.
"Great, another victim to one of Alyssa's friends. I've seen this before in France when I visited." Pansy walks right up to her cousin, who Harry notes as having blue eyes and black hair, before whispering.
"Is that..." The older girl quickly shoos away her friends to speak to Harry, "Lemme speak to my cousin's friend alone with Pansy. Catch you later, um, helloooo I'm asking you girls to walk away. Mathilde, Anaïse, and Fleur, can you ladies please give a girl some space?"
Harry hears giggles, laughter and French words spoken rather amusingly towards Alyssa before her three friends head back down the road. The blonde one who's grabbed his attention now out of sight, before Pansy approaches with her slightly taller cousin. To his surprise, she retains her English accent regardless of having attended Beauxbatons for so long.
"The legendary Harry Potter, looks like my little cousin did well with her choice of friends. Alyssa Kalina Parkinson, as I'm sure you know by my letters." She shakes Harry's hand while Pansy sniggers. "Why you laughing, little P?"
"You chased away those girls because you're afraid of that one."
Alyssa appears slightly confused, "Which one?"
"Oh you know, the one who's quarter-Veela. Who ends up drawing all the guys' attention away from your conversations, every single time."
"Oh shut up." Alyssa turns to Harry, then eyes his scar before speaking. "So what was it like? Feeling the Killing Curse I mean?"
"Dunno, can't remember back from when I was still pooping in my nappies," replies Harry, in a witty manner that has Alyssa give a snort.
"Sheesh, this one's got attitude indeed. Perfect match for you, Pansy. Now all he needs to do is stick his nose in other people's business and pretend to be sweet."
"I do not pretend!" argues Pansy, who then watches her cousin engage in a healthy bit of dialogue with Harry. The topic soon shifting to Sirius Black as reported by newspapers around Europe. It also dawns on Harry that Alyssa has certainly made mention around her school of his acquaintance with her cousin. After nearly twenty minutes of continuous conversation, Harry walks down the road with Pansy beside him.
"Your cousin seems nice but why isn't she in Hogwarts? I thought you said she was born and spent a good bit of her childhood here?"
"Dad's brother never truly liked the idea of Voldemort and the Death Eaters. So he moved his family to France and settled down there. That's why Alyssa's at Beauxbatons and not here, understand?"
Harry nods before speaking, "Man, how long have we been wandering around? It's almost noon already."
"Let's head back, I suppose." Pansy leads the way back to the tent where they are greeted by a rather surprising scene. Not only is Sirius firmly focused upon a game of Exploding Snap with Mrs. Parkinson, but they also seem to be having an unexpected visitor. Harry steps forward to see their guest sitting beside a most confused Mrs. Parkinson on the bench.
"D-Dobby?"
The elf turns to look at him and immediately smiles. "Dobby has left the Malfoy home for today, Harry Potter, sir! Dobby couldn't feel in better spirits than knowing Dobby has the freedom to do so, thanks to sir!"
"Is this your elf—No!" Mrs. Parkinson's question is cut short at Sirius winning the round, and dragging over a few silver coins.
"Five Sickles for that round, thank you."
Harry simply gawks, "What the—are you two gambling over here? In the open, in broad daylight? Put that Wizarding money away, Sirius."
"Here, keep it safe." Sirius flicks a Sickle which Dobby catches and places in a pocket... of whatever mix-match of clothing he's wearing.
"Dobby thanks Harry Potter's friend, sir."
Shaking his head, Harry inquires about Dobby's life at the Malfoys now, to which he is told things couldn't be better. The prospect of Harry's elf being able to leave them at any minute makes Dobby practically immune to ill-treatment. While at the same time, the fact of Harry having freed the elf, yet sent him back, causes strange reactions from the Malfoys themselves. But fortunately it appears that they're at least appreciative of the gesture, since Mr. Malfoy had caused all the trouble with the Diary.
After a good few minutes chatting with Dobby, Harry has him head back to Malfoy Manor. He then takes a seat at the campfire before Pansy and Sirius attempt to cook up some lunch, with fair efforts. The resulting bit of soup turns out to be fairly likable, and the group of four sit back and stuff themselves with a midday meal.
"Well, might as well kick back and relax for some of the afternoon. Game isn't until tomorrow evening anyway," says Harry, which draws echoes of agreement from the rest. Though he can't help but remain slightly vigilant around Mrs. Parkinson, given all the warnings he's heard from others.