Chapter Twelve
Carolina's feet hit the ground and a sharp pain shot up her legs, forcing her knees to bend from the impact. She steadied herself, before cautiously straightening up and taking a step forward. She hated portkeys.
Looking around, Carolina's interest was suddenly piqued. They seemed to have landed in a vast field. The grass was near golden and glistening in the afternoon light as a gust of wind pushed across it in beautiful waves. She could see small tents in the distance, forming seemingly endless rows that appeared to continue into the horizon.
"4:15 from London?" a tired voice sounded from behind her. Carolina turned to look at the middle aged witch holding a clipboard, onto which she promptly scribbled. Across her chest was a large button that was flashing the word "volunteer" in a lurid shade of magenta.
"Yes," her father said haughtily. "We… are the Flints."
"Right. Lot 22. You'll want to walk down aisle three until just before the woods. Now, if you'll move along, I have a 4:17 from St. Ives coming any moment." The witch let out an enormous yawn, not bothering to stifle it.
Carolina looked at her brother. He eyes were excited and we he noticed her looking at him, he shot her a sneer. A vast difference from the glares she was used to receiving form him.
They followed their father down aisle three, past tents set up by wizarding families who had arrived earlier. The Irish had garnered the most support-many of the tents were covered in glistening shamrocks-perhaps because the cup was held in England this year, however there were also a fair few Bulgaria supporters, as well as witches and wizards who had travelled from all over the world just to watch the spectacle.
Many of the families were sitting down outside their tents for afternoon tea. Carolina smiled at one family with a little girl with green shamrocks in her hair, who had magically enlarged her tea cup to the size of a large shrub and was laughing as her parents frantically looked for their wands to shrink it back down to normal size.
"Come along, Carolina. No dawdling," her father's voice sounded from ahead of her, forcing Carolina to pick up her pace. "We only have forty minutes until the game begins."
After another ten minutes of walking, they found their lot. It seemed that the Malfoys were already present next door, as a large back tent with ornate silver designs along its sides sat placidly on the adjacent lot.
"Marcus, if you would," her father said, indicating towards their lot.
Marcus proceeded to pull out a large piece of folded brown dragon leather. Her father started waving his wand, twirling it gently as the fabric rose from Marcus's hands and unfolded itself. It twisted through the air, spinning softly, before it landed neatly on the lot, where its midsection rose upward to form a pyramid. Just as it settled into its tall shape, a small doormat slid out from underneath the front flaps of the pyramid with the name "Flint" marked on it.
The tent stood up without any support from sticks or poles. It was impressive magic, if Carolina did say so herself.
"Inside, you two," her father said gruffly as he marched into the pyramid.
"Father, I didn't know we had a tent," Carolina called after him, as she followed suit, entering through the brown flaps.
"Scourgify!" her father called, pointing his wand at her feet, and for good reason too. Her shoes were covered in dust and inside their tent was a beautiful green plush rug. The armchairs and sofa were both rather expensive looking dragon hide as well, and there was a large mahogany coffee table in the center. Beyond the sitting area seemed to be small sleeping alcoves with fresh linen beds. "We didn't, I had one specially made for the world cup," her father finally answered. "Marcus, if you would call on Draco next door, perhaps we can walk to the stadium with the Malfoys."
Marcus grinned. "Yes father!"
"And leave your backpack," her father called out again. Marcus dropped his bag by the front of the tent as he sauntered out.
Carolina sat down and pulled a book out of her own bag, watching as her father reached into Marcus's and began extracting a few magical instruments, placing them around the rooms.
She sighed, knowing that if she asked her father what it was he was doing, he would surely tell her that it was too advanced for her, or that she should mind her own business. She turned to her book, "Quidditch Through the Ages," which she had brought with her, feeling it appropriate for the event, and opened it to the first page.
"Father, the Malfoys are leaving and have invited us to walk with them to the stadium!" Marcus called rushing back into the tent, a near five minutes later. Carolina closed her book with a humph, only ten pages in.
"Naturally," her father said. He grabbed his green clock and latched it around his neck. "Come now, Carolina."
Carolina dutifully closed her book and stood up. She didn't bother with her cloak. It was late summer and quite hot out.
"Arris," she heard a deep voice drawl from outside the tent flaps. "We are so glad you could join us."
"Yes, we had such a pleasant evening with you and your family," responded a higher voice. "Ah, Carolina, so wonderful to see you."
Carolina smiled, squinting in the bright afternoon light as she gazed at the Malfoy family. "And you, ma'am. Hello Draco."
"Carolina," the younger student responded with a nod. He looked rather annoyed, in Carolina's opinion.
"Shall we?" Narcissa said, gesturing down the lane. "How is Bellonia, Arris? I've been meaning to floo over to discuss dress robe designs."
"Quite well, quite well," Carolina heard her father respond.
"I am sorry we could only offer three tickets; perhaps she can join us at a future event," Narcissa said.
"She is perfectly happy to have the house to herself for the weekend, I'm sure."
Carolina decided to fall back, allowing the two elder Malfoys to walk with her father, while Draco and Marcus were even further ahead, probably discussing Quidditch tactics or something.
Carolina stared moodily at the ground ahead of her as her feet plonked forward. It was covered in twigs and leaves from the large trees above them, and a few roots cut into the path, making it important to watch your step. This was one of the moment's, like in between classes at Hogwarts, or when she was shopping with her mum, that Carolina wished she could read and walk at the same time. For all her magical knowledge, she had yet to stumble upon a spell that allowed her to do this.
Around them, there were more people, also walking towards the stadium and Carolina contented herself to people watching until they arrived.
"How much farther, father?" Carolina queried, out of breath and panting from the exertion. They had climbed nearly the entire height of the stadium. Her thighs were burning.
"Not much," was her father's reply, but Marcus cut in:
"Wishing you played quidditch now, little sister?" he sneered, looking down at her, before scampering up a few more steps, obviously in better shape than she was. Draco smirked as well, before following her brother.
"Bastard," Carolina muttered under her breath, glaring daggers up the remaining steps into her brother's back.
"Ah! Lucius!" Carolina heard, from the box just ahead of her. "And with your wife and son in tow, how wonderful, how wonderful! Might I introduce you to the Bulgarian Minister, Mr. Oblansk, he doesn't speak much English…"
"Pleasure," Carolina heard Lucius say.
"And Cornelius, I'm happy to introduce you to Arris Flint-owner of Skins & Hides-and his son Marcus, Slytherin Quidditch captain, and this is his daughter Carolina, Slytherin Prefect."
"Charming, charming!" The Minister of Magic boomed, looking a little worn through. "I was Slytherin Prefect too, you know, as I'm sure you were Lucius, but never quite got my bearings on the quidditch pitch, not all of us are sportsmen, eh?" he said, nudging Mr. Oblansk who looked thoroughly perturbed.
Carolina lost track of the conversation at this point as she caught the eye of someone she truly did not expect to see in the Minister's box.
Two rows in front of her, and about eight seats down the aisle was Fred Weasley who had raised his hand and opened his mouth in greeting, about to yell…
Carolina quickly brandished her wand and using non-verbal magic, sent a silencing charm at the redhead, whose mouth instantly slapped shut. She tried to communicate with him, by almost imperceptibly shaking her head and frowning, that this wasn't the time nor place to display their friendship.
Nervously, she looked over at her father and Marcus as they all took their seats hoping to Merlin that they hadn't seen the interaction.
They hadn't, as both were still involved in a conversation with a Malfoy. Carolina slumped into her seat and let out a breath. She chanced a glance back over to the Weasleys. It seemed Fred had gotten his twin, seated to his right to take off the silencing charm, as they were now whispering to each other rather heatedly. On the other side of Fred sat another redhead-one she didn't recognize, but believed to be an older brother. He had messy red hair, a stockier, tanner build, and bruises and scrapes along his arms. Next to him was a middle aged man, with balding red hair, who Carolina assumed to be Mr. Weasley. Next to George was their younger brother, then Harry Potter, the their muggleborn friend who had used Carolina's Magical Creature Law book, the weasley's youngest sibling, a little girl with the same flaming red hair, and then another brother-quite a bit older with long hair and a pierced ear. Carolina eyed him appreciatively: not many of her male peers at Hogwarts dared grow their hair out, but his looked rather handsome. Next to him, just down the line was Percy, who was seated next to… a house elf? Carolina furrowed her brows in confusion… Did the Weasley's bring a house elf with them? From what her brother had said over the years, she didn't think they were wealthy enough to afford one.
Carolina opened up the program that had been passed to her upon entering the stadium. It appeared that before the actual game commenced, each team would be allowed one performance by their mascot.
"And that is my daughter, Carolina," Carolina abruptly looked up upon hearing her name. "Certainly not the quidditch prodigy like her brother, but one family can only be so lucky…"
"Pleased to meet you!" a man with thinning blonde hair and a boyish grin said. He was too far away from her to shake her hand, so Carolina just smiled and nodded. He looked rather crazed.
"I'm sure Marcus hasn't mentioned it, humble boy that he is, but he was just drafted to play for the Falmouth Falcons! Any words of wisdom from a former quidditch star, Ludovic?"
"The Falcons, eh? Rough team, they are!" the man responded.
"I reckon they play with heart," her brother shot back, a not-quite genuine grin plastered on his face, masking his normally disgusted expression.
Carolina frowned. Was her brother sucking up to this man?
"Heart is right, my boy!" the man called Ludo said.
"And they needed it, to beat the Wasps back when you played, Mr. Bagman," her brother continued.
That made sense. Ludo Bagman was the head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports at the Ministry, and probably a very important person for her brother to know, if he really had been drafted to the Falcons.
"Sorry, but I really must get to my seat; I am commentating, you know," Bagman shot her brother another boyish grin and strutted back to the center of the Minister's box, stopping briefly along the way to chat with Mr. Weasley.
Carolina turned back to her program, curious as to what the Bulgarian Mascot would be. She had a hunch what creatures would represent Ireland but…
"Welcome witches and wizards alike to the four hundred, twenty second Quidditch World Cup! If you all will turn your attention to the Quidditch pitch… might I present the Bulgarian mascots…" Carolina looked over at Bagman, wondering why his speech had trailed off. He had a roguish smile, and a glazed look about his eyes. Strange.
Carolina directed her gaze down to the pitch. There, dancing in the middle of the grass, were about thirty figures, all women with sleek, shiny blonde hair. She squinted. They had rather pointed features, but were quite beautiful nonetheless. But these women, they were the mascots for Bulgaria?
She spun her head around, about to ask her father what was going on, but stopped when she saw a similar dazed look on his face. In fact, she had never seen her father look so longingly at anything… or so placid. And her brother! Marcus had stood up in his seat, his hand over his heart and seemed to be muttering promises into the open air.
Carolina looked back down at the women. Curious…
Suddenly, an idea came to her. "Oh! They're veela!" she said to no one in particular, certain that none of the men around her would pay any attention.
"Psst!" Carolina broke her gaze away from the women at the noise, and looked around. "Psst!" she heard again. Her eyes darted in the direction of the noise.
Down the row, and in front of her, turned around in his seat, grinning at her, was Fred Weasley. It seemed they were some of the only sober, sentient ones left in their box.
Carolina glared at him and shook her head. Couldn't he understand the trouble he'd cause her if her father caught them communicating?
"Madam Prefect!" she heard him whisper and she turned away from him, rolling her eyes and slumping lower in her seat. These men were useless, she decided. Distracted by the mere hint of beauty, unable to take a cue. She shot a stinging hex at her brother's knee for good measure, knowing that with so much magic around her, the ministry wouldn't pick up underage magic, and hoping it would knock Marcus out of his ridiculous stupor. He fell back in his seat, looking around as if he didn't know where he was. Carolina fought the urge to roll her eyes again. Still… she felt the sides of her mouth curl up into a satisfied smile. Fred hadn't been looking at the Veela. He'd been looking at her.
Carolina yawned and stretched her arms above her head. She placed a bookmark in 'Quidditch Through the Ages' and closed it, placing it on the small coffee table in front of her. It was late, the moon and stars had been visible for a while now, and her father and Marcus were still in the next tent over, drinking with the Malfoys.
The Quidditch match had been quite exciting, in her opinion, and it had moved a great deal faster than any match she'd ever seen. If she was sure of anything after watching the Bulgarian and Irish teams nearly pummel each other into nonexistence, it was that Marcus would never be good enough to make the English National team. And despite her desires to be a better person, that fact, and that fact alone had put her in a rather gleeful mood after the match. Now though, she was rather annoyed.
It was getting quite late and it was rather irresponsible of her father to leave her alone in a field of generally rowdy, international sporting fans. Furthermore, little did she enjoy admitting it to herself, she was rather scared to fall asleep without their presence. She stood up and exited the tent, fully intent on dragging at least Marcus back.
When she pulled open the tent flaps, stepping out into the moonlight, her ears were met with a cacophonous roar. It was sensory overload. People were running around and yelling, and not in the cheerful way they had been earlier; there was fear in the air. Flashes of light lit up the sky as a few tents not to far away were ignited in flames. More screams followed and Carolina dashed back inside. It was strange; her father must have cast an impervious charm on the tent, for as soon as she was inside, the noises ceased. Nevertheless, she grabbed her wand and tore out the doorway again, bounding over to the Malfoy's tent.
She ripped open the flaps but it was completely empty. Carolina felt terror race through her insides as her heart began to beat overtime. She was alone. There was no one here she knew, and she was in the middle of what seemed to be a rather violent riot.
Her eyes quickly scanned the crowd. Should she stay put? Hope that her father returned from wherever he had gone off to? In the distance, she could see bodies being levitated and spun around in dizzying circles above the fleeing crowds. They seemed to be moving closer to her. But a few rows away, the fire had spread to other tents and was creeping closer as well, impervious to the many 'aguamenti' spells attacking it. She panicked, before taking off running away from the fire. If the full grown wizards' spells weren't working, surely hers would not suffice either.
It was total chaos. Carolina had a difficult time running, as bodies hurdled into her, knocking the wind out of her chest, until one particularly large wizard came trampling into her, knocking her to the ground. She cried out in pain as another frantic quidditch fan tripped over her face. She quickly stood up, her legs shaking, and her eyes darting around her.
"Damnit, think," she whispered to herself as the levitating bodies and jeers that followed them edged their way over. She looked around for a way out of their path, and backtracked until she was on the edge of the woods separating the campground from the stadium.
Her knuckles were white as she clutched her wand, and she could feel tears pricking at her eyes. All of the tiredness from a few minute ago had dissipated, replaced by terror.
"Flint? You alright?" Carolina whipped her head around. Standing about ten paces away, and slightly out of breath was George Weasley. Her eyes widened, unsure how to respond and he turned around and called over his breath. "Oi! Fred, Gin, hold up, it's Flint!"
Not a moment sooner had he called out than his twin came racing over, clutching his little sister's hand tightly. The younger Weasley looked just about as petrified as Carolina felt, but seemed to be putting on a braver face, holding her wand out tightly.
"Carolina," Fred breathed, letting go of his sister's hand and stepping closer to Carolina. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"
Carolina shook her head, afraid that if she opened her mouth, the frightened tears she was holding back would betray how scared she felt.
"You sure?" Fred raised his hand and gently brushed his thumb across Carolina's cheekbone. She winced in pain; that was exactly where the foot had collided with her face. A bruise must have been beginning to form.
Carolina nodded, again finding it too difficult to speak.
"Take your filthy hand off my sister, Weasle!" Carolina heard from behind her. Emerging from the forest were Draco and Marcus, looking resolutely calm and unperturbed by the general chaos. He slowly raised his wand as Fred stepped back.
"Just offering assistance, Flint, don't get your panties in a knot." Fred's wand was out now too, pointing at Marcus.
"And why would she need your assistance?" Marcus growled back.
"Oh, I don't know, maybe you hadn't noticed but there are some lunatics on the loose, levitating muggles?" Fred took a step closer to Carolina, and from the corner of her eye, she saw George step in front of Ginny, wand in hand as well.
Fred opened his mouth to continue but was interrupted by Draco, who stepped forward, twirling his wand. "And why do you think they'd go after her?"
Marcus sent a nasty grin to Carolina, before adding on, "Muggles and mudbloods first, then bloodtraitors like you, Weasle."
"And surely her father wouldn't attack his little girl, now would he?" Draco added smugly.
Carolina felt her jaw drop open. She suddenly realized that Draco and Marcus had been itching to drop this piece of information as soon as they had found her, structuring the conversation to lead to this moment.
"That's your father out there, is it?" Fred accused Carolina, pointing in the direction of the din.
Carolina gulped, uncertain of what to say. Both Fred and George were glaring at her now, and even their little sister was giving her the nastiest look she could muster.
"Come here, Carolina," Marcus demanded, gesturing the ground next to her. "I'll apparate you home."
Carolina looked back to Fred, begging him with her eyes to understand that she couldn't have known. Sure, her family was an old pureblood line and believed in keeping their own blood line pure, but she had never believed her father capable of torturing a muggle family... but Fred seemed just as unable to read her wordless expressions as he had in the Quidditch stands earlier that evening. Unable, or perhaps unwilling this time, as he continued to look at her with disdain, his eyes glinting angrily in the starlight.
Carolina felt her feet move towards Marcus, knowing that she just wanted this ordeal to be over. That more than anything, she wanted to be home and away from it all.
"Mum won't be too happy about this, not very pretty is it?" Marcus said, inspecting her cheek. Carolina closed her eyes, as hot pain seared over her skin again. Maybe this was all just a terrible dream.
"Come on, Fred." When Carolina opened her eyes again, George was tugging on his brother's sleeve, pulling him to walk away. "I told you, you couldn't trust her."
Carolina felt her brother grip her wrist tightly, wand raised.
"All you Slytherins are the same," Fred snarled at them, before spitting on the ground at her feet.
But that was the last thing Carolina saw, as the sucking, twisting sensation of apparition overcame her, and she allowed herself to be willingly whisked away, back to the comfort of their London townhouse.
Author's Note: So, this chapter was one of my favorites (and one of the hardest) to write so far! Had to do a bit of research because I didn't remember every detail about the Quidditch World Cup, but hopefully the events are pretty true to the book! Obviously, things are changing in the wizarding world and relationships will be effected too. What did you all think? Please let me know because this was such an important chapter for me as a writer! And again, thanks for the favorites/follows and especially the reviews!