Chapter 3 - Campsite

Apart from being in a very uncomfortable position, being squashed, all Emma's thoughts were on Hermione's eyes, and desperately fighting, with every fibre of her being, the desire to lean up, just an ever so tiny bit, and kiss her. She felt herself go red with the effort, the awkwardness of the intimate moment, and it felt like it went on forever. Hermione's eyes were just so beautiful, brown, but speckled, vibrant, even in the dim light of the sunrise.

Eventually, after what, in reality, was probably no more than a second or two, Ron got up and apologised to Hermione for knocking her over, and reached down to help her up. Once Emma was free, she looked up to see Harry offer her a hand too, and took it gladly, mumbling thanks before turning away, embarrassed.

Emma could have sworn, for just a tiny moment, before Ron interrupted, that Hermione may have felt the same way about Emma as she did for her. Now though, chancing a glance through a veil of her hair, ever so carefully out of the corner of her eye, still red-faced, Hermione was looking away from her and Emma couldn't tell how she felt now.

Thinking it was probably, and most likely, wishful thinking in the heat of the moment, Emma decided she had to do something. She couldn't go on like this. It hurt. She needed to tell Hermione how she felt, even if it was guaranteed to end in disaster. Though now would be a bad time, definitely, given that they were about to be camping together. No, she would wait until they were back home. Of course, she had to fight to make herself believe that was pragmatism and not cowardice.

'Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill.' said a male voice, knocking Emma out of her existential crisis.

A quick look around told Emma that they were in a small depression in the land, surrounded on all sides by small rolling hills. It was also really misty. Clearly this was a good spot to Portkey into as nobody could see this area without being immediately visible.

Mr Weasley received directions from the Ministry workers standing next to a large box of used Portkeys, and they went on their way. Once they'd climbed yet another hill, they were greeted by another spectacular view. A large moor, field after field, covered in the morning mist that hadn't burned off yet, and thousands upon thousands of tents. Also, off to their right, obscuring that whole side of the horizon, was a large mass of trees, a forest that looked much friendlier than the forbidden one at school. She hoped it had fewer Centaurs in it too.

After about a quarter of a mile, they reached a small cottage with one of the few Muggles in the area.

'Morning!' said Mr Weasley, happily.

'Morning.' replied the Muggle.

'Would you be Mr Roberts?'

'Aye, I would, and who're you?'

'Weasley, two tents, booked a couple of days ago?'

'Aye.' said Mr Roberts, checking a list on his door. 'You've got a space up by the wood there. Just the one night?'

'That's it.' agreed Mr Weasley.

'You'll be paying now, then?'

'Ah... right... certainly...' stuttered Mr Weasley.

What followed was Mr Weasley fumbling with Muggle money and asking Harry for help, and then Mr Roberts got suspicious. He complained about the number of foreigners and peculiar goings-on until, out of nowhere, a wizard apparated and cast a spell Emma vaguely remembered; Obliviate. Mr Roberts' eyes went slack, his frown vanished and his demeanour calmed. This was the memory wipe charm and Emma found herself glaring at this wizard for doing it. Glancing at Hermione told her that she had the same opinion, a frown forming on her face.

'Been having a lot of trouble with him.' said the newly arrived wizard as they walked to their field. 'Needs a Memory Charm ten times a day to keep him happy.'

'Ten times a day?' asked Emma, angrily, scowling. 'Surely that's not healthy for him?'

'Oh, it's quite alright.' said the wizard, tiredly, brushing off her complaint like it was nothing. 'He'll be momentarily disorientated, but he'll be right as rain in a few minutes.'

'But isn't that... cruel?' asked Hermione, appalled.

'No, no, it's quite alright.' he replied, completely nonchalant. 'Besides, we need to do it, with Ludo Bagman trotting around talking about Bludgers and Quaffles at the top of his voice. Not a worry about anti-muggle security, that one. Blimey, I'll be glad when this is over. See you later, Arthur.'

And with that, he disapparated.

'I thought Mr Bagman was Head of Magical Games and Sports?' asked Ginny, looking surprised. '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 to 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...'

Emma huffed angrily and ignored the rest of what Mr Weasley had to say. She was annoyed with how these people can treat Muggles so badly without a single sign of remorse. Not to mention that the anti-muggle wards probably weren't helping Mr Roberts mental state either.

A little further walk and finally Emma had something to distract her. In front and around her were hundreds of tents. Most were surprisingly Muggle-like, though there were many who had slipped up by adding chimney stacks or weather-vanes. A few, however, had made absolutely no attempt to blend in, from a striped silk miniature palace, to what was essentially a three-floor castle in tent form. This just made her even more annoyed. The Ministry would rather Obliviate a Muggle than enforce attendees to follow the rules?

Truly, at this point, Emma felt like she'd never had such a low opinion of the Magical community.

Luckily, again, Emma was able to take her mind off this when they reached their spot, right next to the woods. Mr Weasley, at least, respected the rules and asked Harry for help in putting up the tents without magic, though he hadn't been camping before. Neither had Emma. Hermione on the other hand had, and so she did most of the coordinating.

After a while of elbow-grease, and the overenthusiastic use of a mallet from Mr Weasley, they had erected two two-man tents. Harry looked thoroughly confused, probably wondering how they'd all fit, but Emma had a feeling they must have Extension Charms on them.

'We'll be a bit cramped,' called Mr Weasley, as he scrambled inside the left tent. 'but I think we'll all squeeze in. Come and have a look.'

Emma followed after Harry, Ron and Hermione, and found she'd been right. It was more spacious than she was expecting. It had a big communal area, a kitchen through one door, a bathroom through another, and a bedroom with four bunk beds on the far side. It did smell weird though and had oddly mismatched crochet covered chairs.

'Well, it's not for long... I borrowed this from Perkins at the office.' said Mr Weasley, picking up a dusty kettle. 'We'll need water.'

'There's a tap marked on this map the Muggle gave us.' noted Ron. 'It's on the other side of the field.'

'Well, why don't you, Harry, Hermione and Emma go and get us some water, then -' he said as he handed over various containers, like the kettle and some saucepans. '- and the rest of us will get some wood for a fire.'

Ignoring Ron complaining about why they don't just use the oven they have, and the boys dropping off their backpacks in their room, they then left to check on the girls' tent. It was quite a bit smaller than the boys' one, but then there was only Emma, Hermione and Ginny that would be sleeping in it. It was similar to the boys' tent, in that it had a communal area, but it was missing a kitchen, only having a bathroom and a single bedroom with two bunk beds inside. Emma just threw her backpack down on the floor. Hermione and Ginny could choose wherever they wanted to sleep.

'Let's get some water, then.' said Emma, reluctant to walk past more blatantly magical and annoying tents, but still curious despite herself.

So the four of them meandered off into the city of tents. After all the time setting up their own, the sun had risen and the mist lifted. This meant Emma's skin felt like it was burning again, so she shrugged on a black jacket Jane had bought her, and pulled the hood up, while the other three took theirs off and wrapped them around their waists.

As Emma expected, it wasn't just the sun annoying her. People were waking up all over the campsite and making breakfast. Some families were trying to get fires made with matches but most were furtively using magic. Others still were flagrantly disregarding the rules completely, like one tent with bright purple flames outside.

Frustrated, Emma instead focused on the people themselves. People watching was always an enjoyable exercise and now was without a doubt the best time for it. Hermione had been right, there were more nationalities here than Emma believed possible. There were languages being spoken that Emma knew, at least in passing, that she could recognise, like Welsh, French, German, Italian and Spanish, but there were far more she had no idea where they were from.

Continuing on, however, this variation began to decrease.

'Er... is it my eyes, or has everything gone green?' asked Ron.

It wasn't his eyes. The tents they were passing seemed to be covered in growths of shamrock. It gave the appearance of a field of tiny hills.

'Harry! Ron!' shouted a voice a short way behind them.

Turning, Emma saw Seamus Finnigan, a fellow fourth year Gryffindor, sitting in front of a tent with his best friend Dean Thomas, and a woman who looked very much like him, sandy-colour hair and all.

'Like the decorations?' asked Seamus, after the four of them joined him. 'The Ministry's not too happy.'

Emma just hid herself and hissed.

'Ah, why shouldn't we show our colours?' said Mrs Finnigan. 'You should see what the Bulgarians have got dangling off their tents. You'll be supporting Ireland, of course?'

Harry, Ron and Hermione agreed whole heartedly before they set off again.

'Like we'd say anything else surrounded by that lot.' muttered Ron.

'I wonder what the Bulgarians have got dangling over their tents?' said Harry.

'Let's go and have a look.' replied Ron, pointing to a large patch of tents in the distance where they could see the Bulgarian flag, fluttering in the breeze.

Emma started to follow, but was distracted by Hermione taking her hand and pulling her close.

'I know you don't like this.' she whispered. 'I don't either... They may as well be wiping mum and dad's memories, all because these people don't know how to follow rules... But please, calm down. You have to be really careful here. Please...'

Emma just nodded, squeezing Hermione's hand reassuringly, very conflicted by the moment until Hermione did something else equally distracting.

'Em! There's Luna!' she exclaimed. 'Harry, Ron, wait!'

Of course, Emma turned to look, and there, unmistakably, down a row of tents was the short third-year girl with the very long and wavy dirty-blonde hair; Luna Lovegood. She was sat outside an equally green tent to the Finnigan's, and next to her was a very eccentric looking man that reminded her vaguely of pictures of the Muggle scientist, Einstein.

Instantly, Hermione was pulling Emma, still holding hands, in their direction with the boys following confusedly a ways behind. As they got closer, the young girl and the man turned to look at their visitors. The man appeared a little confused, though still smiling broadly at the girls, while Luna, who seemed to never be surprised by anything, greeted them warmly.

'Hi, Hermione. Hi, Emma. It's wonderful to see you again.' she said in her ever-dreamlike voice, not quite looking them in the eyes. 'Daddy, this is Hermione Granger and Emma Pearson.'

The man, her father, stepped forward eagerly and shook their hands.

'Xenophilius Lovegood, at your service.' he beamed, with an odd intensity.

'It's nice to meet you, Mr Lovegood.' replied Hermione. 'We-'

Just then, the boys caught up and drew the attention of Luna and her dad.

'Oh, Luna, Mr Lovegood, this is Ron Weasley and Harry Potter, our friends.'

Of course, whenever Harry is brought up around wizards, they look to his scar and talk at him, and now was no exception. Mr Lovegood shook his hand with extra verve and introduced himself again to the boys.

'Who're y-' asked Ron.

'This is Luna.' said Emma with a little venom. 'She's a Ravenclaw and a good friend of Ginny's, and ours.'

'Friends?' asked Luna, tilting her head and showing confusion for probably the first time, that Emma had seen anyway.

'Of course you are, Luna.' giggled Hermione.

'Oh...' smiled Luna, her face going dreamy again. 'That's nice.'

Ron interrupted again and reminded them that they needed water, so they bid goodbye to the Lovegoods and continued on to the Bulgarians' area. The tents there hadn't been overrun by plant-life like the Irish, but had instead been covered in posters of a burly young man, with a very surly face, thick black eyebrows and a scowl.

'Krum.' said Ron, quietly, almost in reverence.

'What?' asked Hermione and Emma together.

'Krum!' repeated Ron, his patience already lost. 'Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian seeker!'

'He looks really grumpy.' noted Hermione, making Emma snigger.

'Who cares what he looks like?' gasped Ron. 'He's unbelievable. He's really young too. Only just eighteen or something. He's a genius, you just wait until tonight, you'll see.'

Bewildered at Ron's intensity, the four of them trudged the last final bit to get to the tap for water. There was already a small queue, probably longer than it would have been had they not delayed with the Finnigans and Lovegoods. They waited their turn patiently, mostly in silence. Emma couldn't help be hyper-aware of Hermione beside her, and continued to feel awkward, mulling over what she wanted to tell her.

Once they had their containers all filled up, they began the long walk back, slower now, weighed down by the water and trying not to spill it. Of course, they couldn't help meeting more people they knew along the way. First was Oliver Wood, Harry's old Quidditch Captain and a very annoying person in general. Then they were greeted by Ernie Macmillan, a Hufflepuff from their year. Finally they met a fifth-year Ravenclaw girl. Emma didn't know who she was until Hermione mentioned it later, Cho Chang, the new Seeker for Ravenclaw's Quidditch team. What was most interesting was that she smiled and waved at Harry, and he grinned and spilt a fair bit of water over himself trying to wave back. He had the strangest look on his face. It reminded Emma of the look some of the girls in her class had given the Fraud, Gilderoy Lockhart, back when he was teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Ron teased Harry for spilling the water but Emma was just trying to decipher the look he gave Cho. Was it respect for a fellow Quidditch Seeker or was it something more? Did Harry love Cho? If it was that, then was that how Emma looked at Hermione? She hoped not or everyone would know how she felt.

She didn't pay any attention after that. For all she knew they met nobody else on the return trip.

'You've been ages!' said George, loudly.

'Met a few people.' replied Ron, setting the water down. 'You not got that fire started yet?'

'Dad's having fun with the matches.' sighed Fred, rolling his eyes.

Mr Weasley was having no luck starting the fire, but he was having the time of his life trying, surrounded by splintered matches. They watched him finally manage to light one, but the shock of it made him drop it, and it went out.

'Oops.' he said, giddily.

'I can do that, if you would like, sir?' offered Emma.

'Absolutely not!' said Hermione. 'The last time you were near a fire you nearly burned yourself.'

'I was just trying to hold a Salamander...' sulked Emma, shrugging.

'Come here, Mr Weasley, let me.' said Hermione, smirking at Emma and rolling her eyes.

In no time at all, Hermione had the fire lit, having used only a single match. It still took a while before the fire was hot enough for them to cook on, and during that time, they were visited by many Ministry officials, including the late arrival of Bill, Charlie and Percy. Their tent was right next to the main thoroughfare to the Quidditch pitch through the woods, and because of this, Emma retreated to the back of the group, next to the girls' tent, and read one of her books while hiding.

Emma only began to pay attention when Ludo Bagman showed up. A loud, obnoxious and overweight man who clearly used to be powerfully built before he let himself go. Emma couldn't help dislike him. The Obliviator had blamed him for the need to do his job, and she wasn't surprised. He was dressed in full Quidditch robes with a large wasp on the front. Why wasn't he being forced to wear Muggle clothes, like the rules said?

Emma heard her name briefly as Mr Weasley introduced everyone, and then watched as Ludo asked if anyone would bet on the game. Mr Weasley put down a single Galleon, while Fred and George bet, apparently, their entire savings.

'Couldn't do me a brew, I suppose?' asked Ludo, happily. 'I'm keeping an eye out for Barty Crouch. My Bulgarian opposite number's making difficulties and I can't understand a word he's saying. Barty'll be able to sort it out. He speaks about a hundred and fifty languages.'

'Mr Crouch?' piped up Percy, suddenly getting the demeanour of a very loyal puppy, and speaking in his usual pompous tone. 'He speaks over two-hundred! Mermish, Gobbledegook and Troll...'

'Anyone can speak Troll.' said Fred, dismissively. 'All you have to do is point and grunt.'

'Any news on Bertha Jorkins yet, Ludo?' asked Mr Weasley, as Percy shot a nasty look at Fred.

'Not a dickybird.' said Ludo, uncomfortable. 'But she'll turn up...'

Emma went back to her book but was interrupted again when a new man appeared with a pop. He was the complete opposite of Ludo, dressed impressively like a Muggle businessman.

'Pull up a bit of grass, Barty.' said Ludo, to this new arrival.

'No, thank you, Ludo.' replied Mr Crouch. 'I've been looking for you everywhere. The Bulgarians are insisting we add twelve more seats to the Top Box.'

'Mr Crouch!' said Percy, bowing, speaking the moment Barty stopped talking. 'Would you like a cup of tea?'

'Oh,' he replied, surprised. 'Yes, thank you, Weatherby.'

Fred, George, Emma and Hermione all sniggered at that, the twins even choking on their tea, while Percy went bright red. Of course, the adults went back to adult conversation, only, one thing caught Emma's ear. According to Ludo, there was something happening at Hogwarts this year, and Mr Crouch did his absolute best to keep Ludo from revealing more. Emma's curiosity was definitely piqued, but then again, if Ludo was involved it would be a sport, so probably very boring.

As dusk arrived, and the time for the game drew nearer, various salespeople began apparating around the field selling all manner of goods. Luminous rosettes, green for Ireland, red for Bulgaria, hats with dancing shamrocks, scarves with roaring lions, flags of all kinds, model broomsticks that flew, and even miniature figures of each teams' players that moved by themselves.

'Wow, look at these!' exclaimed Harry, running to a cart with what looked like brass binoculars covered in dials and knobs.

'Omnioculars.' said the saleswizard, eagerly. 'You can replay action, slow everything down, and they flash up a play-by-play breakdown if you need it. A bargain at ten Galleons each.'

'Wish I hadn't bought this now.' said Ron, glumly, gesturing to his shamrock hat.

'Four pairs.' said Harry, to the wizard.

'Three.' corrected Emma, firmly.

'Two.' added Ron, half-heartedly, going red, clearly touchy about Harry spending money on him.

'You won't be getting anything for Christmas.' said Harry, thrusting Omnioculars into Ron and Hermione's hands. 'For about ten years, mind.'

'Fair enough.' said Ron, grinning.

'Ooh, thanks, Harry.' said Hermione. 'And I'll get us some programmes, look-'

After the other three spent an inordinate amount of money on junk, they went back to their tents and met up with the others. Bill, Charlie and Ginny were all wearing green rosettes, while Mr Weasley had an Irish flag, and of course Fred and George had nothing as they'd bet all their money away.

Suddenly, while they were all getting their things ready, there was a deep, booming gong sound somewhere deep in the woods that made Emma's ears ring. A split-second later, the trees burst into bright light, blinding Emma momentarily. It was lit with red and green lanterns, showing the path to the pitch.

'It's time!' said Mr Weasley, looking more excited than he had been while playing with matches. 'Come on, let's go!'