Shut Up, Weatherby
In 1976 the Potters went to the Quidditch World Cup, England versus Germany. They had one of the largest tents on the field and there was a moving picture of the three England chasers pinned on the side.
Due to the Muggle regulations, Mrs Potter was dressed in a rather ghastly pink and orange dress and black leather boots and Mr Potter had on a skirt that went to his ankles and a blue and black dress shirt. They had gotten many funny looks from the muggles, but they thought they did rather well considering their pureblood heritage.
Mrs Potter had lit a large purple fire, not really understanding that muggles had orange fires, and she, Mr Potter, James and Sirius were gathered around it.
James was positively bouncing with excitement for the upcoming match. It had been forever since England had won the world cup and James was filled with confidence that this would be their year.
"Can you believe it, Padfoot? In just one hour we'll be able to see England have its greatest win!" James cried excitedly.
"Yes, I can, because you have been telling me every ten minutes for the last two weeks," Sirius said, rolling his eyes, but there was a grin on his face, he was just as excited for the match.
"I can't help it, I'm just so excited! You know how I am about Quidditch." James said, grinning back at his best friend. "Do you have the thing?" He asked lowly, his hazel eyes twinkling as a smirk appeared on his face.
Sirius caught on instantly, able to read James' thoughts almost as easily as his own. An identical smirk appeared on his face too and his silvery eyes lit up.
"Did you ever doubt it?" Sirius asked as he pulled a small bundle from the pocket of his muggle jeans (Remus had helped him and James pick out their clothes.)
"Honestly? The fact we're only an hour away gave me pause," James joked. "Are you ready?" He asked, pulling out his wand, using Sirius as a shield to stop his parents from noticing.
"Never been ready for anything more in my life," said Sirius and James muttered the spell.
Almost instantaneously, the package began to unravel itself and a second later it had shot into the air with a large shriek, making old Mr and Mrs Potter jump. The package burst into purple flame. BANG. It was no red and white: a sparkling England flag. BANG. It changed into the keeper's haughty face.
Sirius and James laughed delightedly as other England supporters came out of their tents, pointing and looking up at the sky in awe. More bangs went off as it turned into each player in turn.
"Oh, you two!" Mrs Weasley shrieked. "I knew you're trouble, but I never imagined you'd pull something like this! Honestly, this is not the same as any of the pranks at Hogwarts, this is serious, this is the real world. You just wait until we get home, you two see if you fly at all this summ-"
"Oh, Dorea, really, they didn't mean any harm, it's just a bit of fun-" Mr Potter put in, looking up at the sky at what now showed the third chaser's face in slight amusement.
"Just a bit of fun? What about the muggle regulations? They have just smashed the rules into bits! Those aren't normal for muggles – and oh, here comes the ministry works," she sighed wearily, running her hand through her black hair.
"Just what has been going on here?" The ministry worker panted and glared at Sirius and James who were still laughing, he was about to meet the two wizards that would make him actually want to quit his job for good.
Briar looked around, resolutely avoiding looking at Fred. They had arrived on what appeared to be a deserted stretch of misty moor. In front of them was a pair of tired and grumpy-looking wizards, one of whom was holding a large gold watch, the other a thick roll of parchment and a quill. Both were dressed as muggles, and from the look on Harry's and Hermione's faces it wasn't very well: the man with the watch wore a tweed suit with thigh-length galoshes; his colleague, a kilt and a poncho.
"Morning, Basil," said Mr Weasley, picking up the boot and handing it to the kilted wizard, who threw it into a large box of used Portkeys beside him; Briar could see an old newspaper, an empty drinks can, and strange looking punctured ball, which she supposed must be from a muggle sport.
"Hello there, Arthur," said Basil wearily. "Not on duty, eh? It's all right for some…we've been here all night…you'd better get out of the way, we've got a big party coming in from the Black Forest at five fifteen. Hang on, I'll find your campsite…Weasley…Weasley…." He consulted his parchment list. "About a quarter of a mile's walk over there, first field you come to. Site manager's called Mr Roberts. Diggory…second field…ask for Mr Payne."
"Thanks, Basil" said Mr Weasley, and he beckoned everyone to follow him.
They set off across the deserted moor, unable to make out much through the mist. After about twenty minutes, a small stone cottage next to a gate swam into view. Beyond it, Briar could just make out the ghostly shapes of hundreds and hundreds of tents, rising up the gentle slope of a large field toward a dark wood on the horizon. They said goodbye to the Diggorys and approached the cottage door.
A man was standing in the doorway, looking out at the tents. Briar knew at a glance that this was the only real muggle for several acres. When he heard their footsteps, he turned his head to look at them.
"Morning!" said Mr Weasley brightly.
"Morning," said the muggle.
"Would you be Mr Roberts?"
"Aye, I would," said Mr Roberts. "And who're you?"
"Weasley – two tents, booked a couple of days ago?"
"Aye," said Mr Roberts, consulting a list tacked to the door. "You've got a space up by the wood there. Just the one night?"
"That's it," said Mr Weasley.
"You'll be paying now, then?" said Mr Roberts.
"Ah – right – certainly-" said Mr Weasley.
Mr Weasley then retreated a short distance from the cottage and then beckoned Harry toward him. Briar knew when she saw him pull some weird paper, which she recognised as Muggle money, from his pocket that he was asking him for help.
"You foreign?" said Mr Roberts as Harry returned to Briar's side and Mr Weasley approached the muggle again with what was safe to assume the correct money.
Briar frowned at the muggles words and shared a confuse glance with Fred and George. They spoke with an English accent and they were currently dressed in muggle clothing, why would he think they were foreign? Briar was sure they were acting perfectly normal, well, normal according to muggles.
"Foreign?" repeated Mr Weasley, seeming just as puzzled as she was.
"You're not the first one who's had trouble with money," said Mr Roberts, scrutinizing Mr Weasley closely. "I had two try and pay me with great gold coins the size of hubcaps ten minutes ago."
Briar didn't know what hubcaps were, but she could only assume that Mr Roberts was talking about Galleons. It seemed some wizards were even less experienced with muggle money that Mr Weasley was.
"Did you really?" said Mr Weasley nervously.
Mr Roberts rummaged around in a tin for some change.
"Never been this crowded," he said suddenly, looking out over the misty field again. "Hundreds of pre-bookings. People usually just turn up…"
"Well it's the world cup, isn't it?" Briar blurted without think and Harry elbowed her in the ribs, hard.
Mr Roberts looked at her strangely.
"The Football world cup was a couple of years ago," Mr Robert said, still scrutinizing Briar.
"Football?" Briar repeated dumbly, not having a clue what he was talking about, she guessed it was something muggle related, she vaguely recalled Dean Thomas mentioning it in first year.
"Pre-bookings, is that right?" Mr Weasley cut in quickly to get Mr Roberts attention away from Briar, he held his hand out for his change, but Mr Roberts didn't give it to him.
"Aye," Mr Roberts said thoughtfully. "People from all over. Loads of foreigners. And not just foreigners. Weirdos, you know? There's a bloke walking 'round in a kilt and a poncho."
Briar brows rose in question, she hadn't found anything strange about the outfit, it was the closest thing to robes you could get in a muggle outfit. Mr Weasley obviously thought the same-
"Shouldn't he?" said Mr Weasley anxiously.
"It's like some sort of…I dunno…like some sort of rally," said Mr Roberts. "They all seem to know each other. Like a big party."
At that moment, a wizard in a pair of strange baggy trousers that went down to the knee apparated next to Mr Roberts front door.
"Obliviate!" he said sharply, pointing his wand at Mr Roberts.
Instantly, Mr Roberts eyes slid out of focus, hi bros unknitted, and a look of dreamy unconcern fell over his face. Briar recognised the symptoms of one who had just had his memory modified.
"A map of the campsite for you," Mr Roberts said placidly to Mr Weasley. "And your change."
"Thanks very much," said Mr Weasley.
The wizard in the strange trousers accompanied them toward the gate to the campsite. He looked exhausted: his chin was blue with stubble and there were deep purple shadows under his eyes.
Once out of earshot of Mr Roberts, he muttered to Mr Weasley, "Been having a lot of trouble with him. Needs a memory charm ten times a day to keep him happy. And Ludo Bagman's not helping. Trotting around talking about Bludgers and Quaffles at the top of his voice, not a worry about anti-muggle security. Blimey, I'll be glad when this is over. See you later, Arthur."
He Disapparated.
"I thought Mr Bagman was Head of Magical Games and Sports," said Ginny, looking surprise. "He should know better than to talk about Bludgers near muggles, shouldn't he?"
"He should," said Mr Weasley, smiling, and leading them through the gates into the campsite, "but Ludo's always been a bit…well…lax about security. You couldn't wish for a more enthusiastic head of the sports department though. He played Quidditch for England himself, you know. And he was the best beater Wimbourne Wasps ever had."
Briar nodded, she had known that. She had read a lot of books about the history of Quidditch. Ludo Bagman had stopped so many chasers from scoring and so many seekers from catching the stitch it was barely even believably.
They trudged up the misty field between long rows of tents. Most looked almost ordinary; their owners had clearly tried to make themselves as muggle as possible, adding chimneys and bellpulls and weather vanes.
"They didn't do a very good job at making it muggle did they?" Harry told her, looking around. "I'm not exactly surprised Mr Roberts getting suspicious."
"What do you mean?" Briar asked looking around at the tents in confusion, they looked perfect muggle to her. "Is this not how muggles camp?"
"It's a good thing you take muggle Studies," Harry muttered, shaking his head and speeding up to walk with Ron.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Briar demanded, but Harry didn't answer.
Halfway up the field stood an extravagant confection of striped silk like a miniature palace, with several live peacocks tethered at the entrance. Briar was sure that it would be the Malfoy tent, she had heard rumours that they had Peacocks at their manor so it only sense to be the stupid pureblood elitist family in question.
A little further on they passed a tent that had three floors and several turrets; and a short way beyond that was a tent that had a front garden attached, complete with birdbath, sundial, and fountain.
"Always the same," said Mr Weasley, smiling. "We can't resist showing off when we get together. Ah, here we are, look, this is us."
They had reached the very edge of the wood at the top of the field, and there was an empty space, which a small sign hammered into the Ground that read: WEEZLY.
"Couldn't have a better spot!" said Mr Weasley happily. "The field is just on the other side of the wood there, we're as close as we could be." He hoisted his backpack from his shoulders. "Right," he said excitedly, "no magic allowed, strictly speaking, not when we're out in these numbers on muggle land. We'll be putting these tents up by hand! Shouldn't be too difficult…muggles do it all the time…here, Harry, where do you reckon we should start?"
Harry looked as bewildered as the rest of them. Briar was sure her twin had never been camping before in his life, Merlin knows the Dursleys wouldn't take him anywhere. However, he and Hermione worked out where most of the piles and pegs should go, and though MR Weasley was more of a hindrance than a help, because he got thoroughly overexcited when it came to using the mallet, they finally managed to erect a pair of shabby two men tents.
All of them stood back to admire their handiwork. Mr Weasley dropped to his hands and knees and entered the first tent.
"We'll be a bit cramped," he called, "but I think we'll all squeeze in. come and have a look."
Harry was the first to enter the tent and Briar followed quickly after, ducking under the tent flap. She laughed slightly when she saw that Harry's jaw had dropped. The inside of the boys tent looked like an old fashioned, three room flat, complete with bathroom and kitchen. There were crocheted covers on the mismatched chairs and a strong smell of cats.
"Is this not what muggle tents look like?" Briar asked and Harry could only shake his head as he looked around in awe.
Briar didn't see anything particularly impressive about the tent, in fact it was rather small, especially with how many of them there are, and it smelt, but she supposed it was only for one night.
"Did whoever this tent belonged to own a bunch of cats?" Briar asked, waving a hand in front of her nose. "It stinks."
"Well, it's not for long," said Mr Weasley, mopping his bald patch with a handkerchief and peering in at the four bunk beds that stood in the bedroom. I borrowed this from Perkins at the office. Doesn't camp much anymore, poor fellow, he's got lumbago." He picked up the dusty kettle and peered inside it. "We'll need water…"
"There's a tap marked on this map the muggle gave is," said Ron, who had followed Briar inside the tent and he too seemed completely unimpressed by the tent. "It's on the other side of the field."
"Well, why don't you, Harry and Hermione go and get us some water then" – Mr Weasley handed over the kettle and a couple of saucepans – "and the rest of us will get some wood for a fire?"
Briar frowned and shared a puzzled look with Harry as they glanced over at the stove behind Mr Weasley.
"But we've got an oven," said Ron, clearly think along the same lines as the Potter twins. "Why can't we just-"
"Ron, anti-muggle security!" said Mr Weasley, his face shining with anticipation. "When real muggles camp, they cook on fires outdoors. I've seen them at it!"
"But why would they do that? They have eclectic stoves, I learnt about them in muggle studies," Briar said in confusion.
"Well, im not sure, but it's fascinating isn't it?" Mr Weasley said excitedly.
Briar didn't think it sounded fascinating at all, but decided not to say anything.
After a quick tour of the girls' tent Briar would be staying in, which was slightly smaller than the boys' and thankfully without the smell of cats, Harry, Ron and Hermione set off across the campsite with the kettle and saucepans.
Briar however, set off with the twins to 'find firewood', when really they were just going to look around, hopefully finding people to sell a few products to. They ducked behind the boys' tent as Mr Weasley, Ron and Ginny set off in another direction for some more wood.
"Okay, lift the shirt," George told Fred.
Fred grimaced, since it was so cold, but lifted his shirt to his chest so that they could see the products they had spellotaped to his torso. Briar pecked carefully and managed to get an edge and George did the same, soon enough they were circling around Fred to un tape it all.
"All done," Briar said triumphantly and she and George stood back, each with a couple of handful of products.
"Goodie for you," Fred muttered, rubbing his red stomach before dropping his shirt. "Why did I have to be the one to have the products taped to me?"
"Because me and Bambi threw our gnomes further than you," George said and he and Briar high fived as Fred grumbled.
After George retrieved the new order forms from his rucksack, the three of them set off across the campsite with the different candies.
Now, with the sun newly risen and the mist lifting, they could see the city of tents that stretched in every direction. They made their way slowly through the rows, staring eagerly around.
Their fellow campers were starting to wake up. First to stir were the families with small children. A tiny boy no older than two was crouched outside a large pyramid-shaped tent, holding a wand and poking happily at a slug in the grass, which was swelling slowly to the size of a salami.
As they drew level with him, his mother came hurrying out of the tent.
"How many times, Kevin? You don't – touch – Daddy's – want – yecchh!" she had trodden on the giant, slug, which burst. Her scolding carried after them on the still air, mingling with the little boy's yells – "you bust slug! You bust slug!"
"Ahh, fond memories," Fred sighed as they passed.
"Yeah," George said, smiling at what must have been a memory of when he and Fred used to steal their parents' wand.
"Harry and I used to steal our dad's wand all the time, he wasn't the most responsible parent," Briar chuckled, recalling her oldest memories. "It mainly ended in our mum shouting at him for laughing at whatever the result was. From what I remember, one time our dad fell asleep and Harry and I turned the whole house yellow as well as our dad and ourselves. My uncle Moony told me mum was furious, it had taken days to sort out."
Fred and George laughed loudly and Briar siled fondly at the memory. She loved her earliest memories, although no matter how happy, they always tended to make her sad and angry at the thought of all that was lost. However, Briar was determined to say cheerful, it was the Quidditch world cup after all.
A short way farther on, they saw two little witches, barely older than Kevin, who were riding toy broomsticks that rose only high enough for the girls' toes to skim the dewy grass. A ministry wizard had already spotted them; as he hurried past Briar, Fred and George he muttered distractedly, "In broad daylight! Parents having a lie-in, I suppose-"
Here and there adult wizards and witches were emerging from their tents and starting to cook breakfast. Some, with furtive looks around them, conjured fired with their wands; others were striking matches with dubious looks on their faces, as though sure this couldn't work. Briar wasn't sure it would, but if muggles could do it, surely they could to.
Three African wizards sat in serious conversation, all of them wearing long white robes and wha looked like a rabbit on a bright purple fire, while a group of middle-aged American witches sat gossiping happily beneath a spangled banner stretch between their tents that read: THE SALEM WITCHES INSTITUTE.
Briar and the twins managed to sell a few fainting fancies and daydream candies to some wizards and witches, in the tents nearby the banner, their own age that attended The Salem Witches institute, which was the American wizarding school.
Briar caught snatches of conversation in strange languages from the inside of tents as why passed, and though they couldn't understand a word, the tone of every single voice was excited. After embarrassingly acting out what the sweets did to the foreigners, they admitted defeat and moved on.
"Ah, here come the Irish," Briar grinned as everything in front of her was suddenly a shocking shade of green.
"Wicked!" Fred and George exclaimed, looking around eagerly.
They had walked into a patch of tents that were all covered with a thick growth of shamrocks, so that I looked as though small, oddly shaped hillocks had sprouted out of the earth. Grinning faces could be seen under those that had their flaps open. Then, from behind them, Briar heard her name.
"Hey, Briar!"
It was Seamus Finnigan, her fellow Gryffindor fourth year. He was sitting in front of his own shamrock-covered tent, with a sandy-haired woman who had to be his mother, and his best friend, Dean Thomas, also a Gryffindor.
"Like the decorations?" said Seamus, grinning. "The Ministry's not to happy."
Briar rolled her eyes and waved a hand dismissively. As far as she knew the ministry was never happy.
"Ah, why shouldn't we show our colours?" said Mrs Finnigan. "You should see what the Bulgarians have got dangling all over their tents. You'll be supporting Ireland, of course?" she added, eyeing Briar beadily, not noticing Fred and George, who were sneakily selling some products to Seamus and Dean.
"Couldn't imagine support anyone else," Briar grinned. "If only England could have gotten further into the World Cup."
"Yes, that was rather embarrassing wasn't it?" Mrs Finnigan asked and Briar nodded with a grimace. "Well, Ireland had made it, clearly the best team."
"Couldn't agree with you more," Briar said, laughing slightly at the sandy haired woman's spirit.
"Well, how much did you sell?" Briar asked as they left.
"There's none left, we sold most of it to those wizards and witches from the Salem Institute," said Fred happily.
"Yeah, and Seamus and Dean just bought the rest, seemed rather impressed by them if I do say so myself," said George smugly, puffing his chest out in a Percy-like manor.
"Well, who would be? We made them after all," Briar ruffled her hair and the three of them cracked up.
Since they didn't have any more products to sell, they decided to go and see how the Bulgarians had decorated their tents. They headed towards the large patch of tents up field where the Bulgarian flag – white, green, and red – was fluttering in the breeze.
The tents here had not been bedecked with plant life, but each and every one of them had the same poster attached to it. a poster of a very surly face with heavy black eyebrows. The picture was, of course, moving, but all it did was blink and scowl.
Briar instantly recognised the face as Viktor Krum, the famous seeker for Bulgaria.
"I wonder who on the team the Bulgarian supporters like the most," Fred said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.
"Yeah, great mystery isn't it?" George added in the same tone of voice and Briar snorted in laughter at her best friends.
Despite how long they had taken, stopping at almost every tent, when Briar, Fred and George got back to the Weasley's tents, everyone but Hermione, Ron and Harry was back at the tent. Mr Weasley was kneeling in front of a pile of firewood, trying and failing to use the muggle matches to start the fire.
"How's it going, dad?" Fred asked, looking down at the pile of matches he had failed to keep alight in amusement.
"Not too well, I don't know how the muggles do it," sighed Mr Weasley, wiping his brow. "Oh, briar, Ginny wanted to talk to you about sleeping arrangements."
Briar shrugged and went to the girls tents, Fred and George following after her. Ginny was sitting in the girls tents on her own, reading what Briar recognised as Harry's copy of Quidditch through the ages.
Since there were only three girls, there was only one bedroom, unlike in the boys' tent, and there was one bunk bed and one single bed.
"I bag top bunk!" Briar cried as soon as she entered.
"What?" Ginny exclaimed, jumping to her feet and putting the book down. "No way, that's the bed I wanted!"
"It's a bed with a ladder," said Briar imploringly. "How often do I get to climb a ladder to go to bed? Almost never. Well there was that time me and the twins went to sleep in the divination room, but that doesn't count!"
"Well it's not different for me, I want to sleep on the top bunk too. Im younger!" Ginny disagreed.
"What's that got to do with anything? If anything, I should get to choose since im older" Briar said back, putting her hands on her hips.
The two girls stared at each other for a moment, narrowed hazel eyes meeting narrowed brown ones. Finally they turned to the twins expectantly, who had been laughing at the small argument. As soon as they saw that the girls' angry gaze was on them their laughter abruptly ended and they shared a panicked glance.
"Well, Fred, George, what do you think?" Briar demanded, raising her brows as throw daring them to agree with Ginny.
"And keep in mind that I'm your little sister, who you loved very much," Ginny put in.
"And you should also keep in mind that I'm your best friend and have helped you through everything and kept all your secrets," Briar said, shooting a dark smirk at Ginny, who glared in response.
Fred and George looked from Briar to Ginny and back again.
"Well, we're in a kind of tough spot, right now," Fred said wearily.
"Yeah, if we agree with Briar, then we're making our sister angry and she will no doubt hex us and grass us up to mum for everything we've ever done," George said and Ginny nodded in agreement with what he had said.
"And if we agree with Ginny, then Briar will be angry and then we won't have our best friends, and she knows more about us than anyone does and merlin knows we don't want it spread around," Fred said, shuddering slightly at the idea.
Fred and George went quiet, looking extremely torn.
"Well?" Briar demanded, never one for patience.
"Who gets the top bunk?" Ginny added, looking sternly at her older brother.
"You know what? No matter what we do we'll make one you angry-" Fred started.
"-So we're just going to go outside to dad," George finished for his twin.
The two of them hurriedly left the tent and Briar and Ginny both glared after them, making noises of anger as the flap to the tent closed.
"Cowards," Briar muttered.
For a full ten minutes Briar and Ginny just stood and glared at each other. Briar had her arms crossed over her chest and her jaw set and Ginny had her arms on her set, her brown eyes looking even more like her mother's in anger. Neither of them were willing to let the other one win, no matter how petty the argument.
Finally, Ginny sighed and let her arms fall to her sighed.
"You know what? This is going nowhere. We'll wait for Hermione to get back and she can sort it out," Ginny said.
Briar sighed too and nodded reluctantly in agreement. Leaving Ginny to continue to read Quidditch Through the Ages, Briar left the tent to meet Fred and George, who were muttering a little away from where Mr Weasley was struggling with the matches.
"-should just do it, we would be able to get more than enough money," Fred was saying to George in an undertone.
"What are you two talking about?" Briar asked.
Fred and George jumped in surprise at her sudden arrival, before sighing in relief when they saw her. Briar ruffled her hair. She felt rather glad she was the twins' best friend, she was the only one who knew all of their secrets and could distinguish so easily between them.
"You know the money we've saved and what we've gotten from selling the product earlier?" George asked.
"Well, it would be hard for me to forget, I've been helping you with it since my first year," Briar snorted in amusement.
Fred and George rolled their eyes.
"Yeah, yeah, you're a real saint," Fred said sarcastically. "But what we're say is, we're planning on betting the money and the game to get even more."
Briar looked at him in surprise for a moment. She looked thoughtful and then a slow grin bloomed on her face. It was risky and they could lose all the money that took them so long to save, but no one could say that Briar Rose Potter thought things through and the pay off, would be brilliant…
"That's a great idea!" Briar exclaimed and the twins shushed her hurriedly when Mr Weasley glanced in their direction.
They blinked innocently at Mr Weasley for a moment before he sighed, shaking his head, and looking back down at the unlit fire.
"Anyway, we were just thinking about what bet to make," said George.
"Ireland, for sure! There chasers are brilliant!" Briar said.
"Can't deny that, and the other players are great to, but Bulgaria have Krum, who's been basically unbeatable since he got on the team at eighteen." Fred put in with a sigh.
"Yeah," Briar sighed.
"We should just bet that Krum will get the snitch, but Ireland will win," George said with a grin.
Briar and Fred shared a glance before quickly nodding along with his idea, George always was the one to come up with the more thought out ideas. It was a good thing that Mrs Weasley wasn't here since she would never allow them to gamble, but Mr Weasley surely wouldn't stop them.
Briar looked up when Harry, Hermione and Ron headed towards the tents.
"Finally, what did you get lost or something?" Briar asked, raising her brows incredulously as they finally reached them.
"You've been ages," George added.
"Met a few people," said Ron, setting the water down. "You've not got the fire started yet?"
"Dad's having fun with the matches," said Fred and Briar snorted in amusement.
Mr Weasley was still having no success at all in lighting the fire, but it wasn't for lack of trying. Splintered matches littered the ground around him, but he looked as though he was having the time of his life.
"Oops!" he said as he managed to light a match and promptly dropped it in surprise.
"Come here, Mr Weasley," said Hermione kindly, taking the box from him, and Briar watched interestedly as she showed him how to do it properly.
At last they got the fire lit, though it was at least an hour before it was hot enough to cook anything, it seemed muggle fires, just like everything else muggle was slower that the wizard version.
There was plenty to watch while they waited, however. Their tent seemed to be pitched right alongside a kind of thoroughfare to the field, and ministry members kept hurrying up and down it, greeting Mr Weasley cordially as they passed. Mr Weasley kept up a running commentary, mainly for the Harry's and Hermione's benefit; Briar and his own children knew too much about the Ministry to be greatly interested.
"That was Cuthbert Mockridge, Head of the Goblin Liaison Office…here comes Gilbert Wimple; he's with the Committee on Experimental Charms; he's hand those horns for a while now…Hello, Arnie…Arnold Peasegood, he's an Obliviator – member of Accidental Magical Reversal Squad, you know…and that's Bode and Croaker…they're Unspeakables…"
"They're what?"
"From the Department of Mysteries, top secret, no idea what they get up to…"
At last, the fire was ready, and they had just started crooking eggs and sausages when Bill, Charlie, and Percy came strolling out of the woods toward them.
"Well, at least they're well rested," George muttered to her and Fred, who chuckled in response.
"Just apparated, dad," said Percy loudly and Briar and the twins rolled their eyes. "Ah, excellent, lunch!"
They were halfway through their plates of eggs and sausages when Mr Weasley jumped to his feet, waving and grinning at a man who was striding toward them.
"Aha!" he said. "The man of the moment! Ludo!"
Ludo Bagman was easily the person who had least tried to blend in with the muggles, including the Irish and Bulgarians. He was wearing long Quidditch robes in thick horizontal stripes of bright yellow and black. An enormous picture of a wasp was splashed across his chest. He had the look of a powerfully built man gone slightly to seed; the robes were stretch tightly across his large belly, which he had not had in the days when he had played Quidditch for England.
Bagman's nose was squashed (it had been broken by a stray Bludger twenty or so years ago), but his round blue eyes, short blond hair, and rosy complexion made him look like a very overgrown schoolboy.
"Ahoy there!" Bagman called happily.
He was walking as though he had springs attached to the balls of his feet and was plainly in a state of wild excitement. Even Briar was able to contain her excitement for Quidditch better than him.
"Arthur, old man," he puffed as he reached the campfire, "what a day, eh? What a day! Could we have asked for more perfect weather? A cloudless night coming…and hardly a hiccough in the arrangement…not much for me to do!"
Briar shared an amused look with the twins at the statement when behind him, a group of haggard-looking ministry rushed past, pointing at the distant evidence of some sort of magic fire that was sending violet sparks twenty feet into the air.
Percy hurried forward with his hand outstretched. Apparently his disapproval of the way Ludo Bagman ran his department did not prevent him from wanting to make a good impression.
Fred and George scoffed next to her at their brother's need to suck up.
"Ah – yes," said Mr Weasley, grinning, "this is my son, Percy. He's just started at the ministry – and this is Fred – no, George, sorry – that's Fred-" Briar shared an amused glance with the twins as Mr Weasley had been right the first time. "Bill, Charlie, Ron – my daughter, Ginny, Fred and George's friend Briar Potter, and Ron's friends, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter."
Bagman di the smallest of double takes when he heard Harry's name, and his eyes performed the familiar flick upward to the scar on Harry's forehead. Yet again her twin shifted closer to Briar slightly.
"Everyone," Mr Weasley continued," this is Ludo Bagman, you know who he is, it's thanks to him we've got such good tickets-"
Bagman beamed and waved his hand as if to say it had been nothing.
"Fancy a flutter on the match, Arthur?" he said eagerly, jingling what seemed to be a large amount of gold in the pockets of his yellow-and-black robes. "I've already got Roddy Ponther bettering me Bulgaria will score first – I offered him nice odds, considering Irelands front three are the strongest I've seen in years – and little Agatha Timms has put up half shares in her eel farm on a weeklong match"
"Oh…go on then," said Mr Weasley. "Let's see…a galleon on Ireland to win?"
"A Galleon?" Briar shared a puzzled look with Harry when Ludo Bagman looked slightly disappointed, but he had recovered himself. "Very well, very well…any other takers?"
"They're a bit young to be gambling," said Mr Weasley. "Molly wouldn't like-"
"We'll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen sickles, three Knuts," said Fred as he, Briar and George quickly pooled all the Weasley twins' savings, "that Ireland wins – but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch. Oh and we'll throw in a fake wand."
"You don't want to go showing Mr Bagman rubbish like that," Percy hissed.
However, a moment later, Fred and George smirked at Percy and Briar ruffled her hair smugly. Ludo Bagman didn't seem to think the wand was rubbish at all; on the contrary, his boyish face shone with excitement as he took it from Briar, and when the wand gave a loud squawk and turned into a rubber chicken, Bagman roared with laughter.
"Excellent! I haven't seen one that convincing in years! I'd pay five Galleons for that!"
Briar and the twins let out a laugh as Percy froze in an attitude of stunned disapproval.
"Boys," said Mr Weasley under his breath, "I don't want you betting…that's all your savings…you mother-"
"Don't be a spoilsport, Arthur!" boomed Ludo Bagman, rattling his pockets excitedly.
"They're old enough to know what they want! You reckon Ireland will win but Krum'll get the Snitch? Not a chance, boys, not a chance…I'll give you excellent odds on that one…we'll add five Galleons for the funny wand, then, shall we…"
Mr Weasley looked on helplessly as Ludo Bagman whipped out a notebook and quill and began jotting down the twins' names.
"Cheers," said George, taking the slip of parchment Bagman handed him and tucking it away into the front of his robes.
Bagman turned most cheerfully back to Mr Weasley.
"Couldn't do me a brew I suppose? I'm keeping an eye out for Barty Crouch. Mr Bulgarian opposite number's making difficulties, and I can't understand a word he's saying. Barty will be able to sort it out. He speaks about a hundred and fifty languages."
"Mr Crouch?" said Percy, suddenly abandoning his look of poker-stick disapproval and positively writhing with excitement. "He speaks over two hundred! Mermish and Gobbledegook and Troll…"
"Anyone can speak Troll," said Fred dismissively. "All you have to do it point and grunt."
"Occasionally making reference to a giant club you or another troll own," Briar added in agreement.
Percy threw Fred and George an extremely nasty look and stoked the fire vigorously to bring the kettle back to the boil.
"Ooaoo," Briar said quietly in a lofty voice and the twins, who were the only ones who could hear her, smothered their laughter.
"Any new of Bertha Jorkins yet, Ludo?" Mr Weasley asked as Bagman settled himself down on the grass beside them all.
"Not a dicky bird," said Bagman comfortably. "But she'll turn up. Poor old Bertha…memory like a leaky cauldron and no sense of direction. Lost, you take my word for it. she'll wander back into the office sometime in October, thinking it's still July."
"You don't think it might be time to send someone to look for her?" Mr Weasley suggested tentatively as Percy handed Bagman his tea.
"Barty Crouch keeps saying that," said Bagman, his round eyes widening innocently, "but we really can't spare anyone at the moment. Oh – talk of the devil! Barty!"
A wizard had just apparated at their fireside, and he could not have made more of a contrast with Ludo Bagman, sprawled on the grass in his old wasp robes. Barty Crouch was a stiff, upright, elderly man, dressed in an impeccably crisp suit and tie. The parting in his short grey hair was almost unnaturally straight, and his narrow toothbrush moustache looked as though he trimmed it using a slide rule. His shoes were very highly polished. Briar shared a glance with Harry across the fire. The Potter twins could see at once why Percy idolized him.
"Pull up a bit of Grass, Barty," said Ludo brightly, patting the ground beside him.
"No, thank you, Ludo," said Crouch, and there was a bite of impatience in his voice. "I've been looking for you everywhere. The Bulgarians are insisting we add another twelve seats to the Top Box."
"Oh is that what they're after?" said Bagman. "I thought the chap was asking to borrow a pair of tweezers. Bit of a strong accent."
"Mr Crouch!" said Percy breathlessly, sunk into a kind of half bow that made him look like an old house elf. "Would you like a cup of tea?"
"Oh," said Mr Crouch, looking over at Percy in mild surprise. "Yes – thank you, Weatherby."
Briar, Fred and George choked into their own cups. Percy, very pink around the ears, busied himself with the kettle. It took all of Briar's will power, and George pinching her in the leg, to stop her from laughing out loud. For all Percy had been going on about Mr Crouch and how important he was to him and he didn't even know his name.
"Oh and I've been wanting a word with you too, Arthur," said Mr Crouch, his sharp eyes falling upon Mr Weasley. "Ali Bashir's on the warpath. He wants a word with you about your embargo on flying carpets."
Mr Weasley heaved a deep sigh.
"I sent him an owl about that just last week. If I've told him once I've told him a hundred times: Carpets are defined as a Muggle Artefact by the Registry of Proscribed Charmable Objects, but will he listen?"
"I doubt it," said Mr Crouch, accepting a cup from Percy. "He's desperate to export here."
"Well, they'll never replace brooms in Britain, will they?" said Bagman.
"Ali thinks there's a niche in the market for a family vehicle," said Mr Crouch. "I remember my grandfather had an Aximinster that could seat twelve – but that was before carpets were banned, of course."
He spoke as though he wanted to leave nobody in any doubt that all his ancestors had abided strictly by the law. Briar found this extremely odd as once when her uncle Moony had been ranting about Crouch since he would allow him a job at the ministry because of his condition, he had mentioned that his son, Barty Crouch Jr, had been sent to Azkaban for being a death eater.
"So, been keeping busy, Barty?" said Bagman breezily.
"Fairly," said Mr Crouch dryly. "Organizing Portkeys across five continents is no mean feat, Ludo."
"I expect you'll both be glad when this is over?" said Mr Weasley.
Ludo Bagman looked shocked.
"Glad! Don't know when I've had more fun…still, it's not as though we haven't got anything to look forward to, eh, Barty? Eh? Plenty left to organize, eh?"
Mr Crouch raised his eyebrows at Bagman.
"We agreed not to make the announcement until all the details-"
"Oh, details!" said Bagman, waving the word away like a cloud of midges. "They've signed, haven't they? They've agree, haven't they? I bet you anything these kids'll know soon enough anyway. I mean, it's happening at Hogwarts-"
Briar and the twins looked at him, eagerly awaiting what he was going to say.
"Ludo, we need to meet the Bulgarians, you know," said Mr Crouch sharply, cutting Bagman's remarks short and Briar and the twins sighed in disappointment. "Thank you for the tea, Weatherby."
He pushed his undrunk tea back at Percy and waited for Ludo to rise; Bagman struggled to his feet, swigging down the last of his tea, the gold in his pocket chinking merrily.
"See you all later!" he said. "You'll be up in the top box with me – I'm commentating!"
He waved, Barty Crouch nodded curtly, and both of them Disapparated.
"What did he mean, Mr Weasley?" Briar asked hurriedly.
"Yeah, what's happening at Hogwarts, dad?" added Fred at once. "What were they talking about?"
"You'll find out soon enough," said MR Weasley, smiling.
"It's classified information, until such time as the Ministry decides to release it," said Percy stiffly. "Mr Crouch was quite right not to disclose it."
Briar and George scowled at him in frustration.
"Oh shut up, Weatherby," said Fred.
A sense of excitement rose like a palpable cloud over the campsite as the afternoon wore on. By dusk, the still summer air itself seemed to be quivering in anticipation, and as darkness spread like a curtain over the thousands of waiting wizards, the last vestiges of pretence disappeared: the Ministry seemed to have bowed to the inevitable and stopped fighting the signs of blatant magic now breaking out everywhere.
Salesmen were apparating every few feet, carrying trays and pushing carts full of extraordinary merchandise. There were luminous rosettes – green for Ireland, red for Bulgaria – which were squealing the names of the players, pointed green hats bedecked with dancing shamrocks, Bulgaria scarves adorned with lions that really roared, flags from both countries that played their national anthems as they were waved; there were tiny models of Firebolts that really flew, and collectible figures of famous players, which strolled across the palm of your hand, preening themselves.
Briar bought herself and the twins a green rosette each as well as three vivid green top hats, seeing as Fred and George had given all their gold to Bagman.
"Thanks, Bambi!" Fred and George said as they put their hats on, grinning broadly at how ridiculous the three of them looked.
And then a deep, booming gong sounded somewhere beyond the woods, and at once, green and red lanterns blazed into life in the trees, lightening a path to the field.
"It's time!" said Mr Weasley, looking as excited as any of them. "Come on, let's go!"
Author's Note: PLEASE REVIEW!
