Chapter Forty-Seven: Going Camping

As everyone disentangled themselves and got back to their feet, Daphne looked around at where they'd landed. It seemed to be a deserted strand of misty moor. In front of them was a pair of tired and grumpy-looking wizards, who seemed to have attempted to dress like Muggles, but clearly never bothered to look up what Muggles actually wore in daily life.

"Morning, Basil," Mr. Weasley said, handing over the boot to one of the wizards, who was wearing a poncho and a kilt.

"Hello there, Arthur," Basil said 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," Mr. Weasley said, and Daphne quickly stepped forward.

"Would you happen to know where the Greengrasses and a woman called Valentina Barese are staying?" she asked.

Basil looked at her curiously, then glanced at Mr. Weasley, who nodded.

"Let's see…Greengrass is also on the first field, Barese on field three. I don't know beyond that. Site manager on field three is Miss Webb, though, so you can ask her," Basil said.

Daphne thanked him and followed Mr. Weasley and the others towards the fields.

"You're Edmund's daughter, then?" Amos asked. "I'd never have guessed you were from a Noble House in those clothes."

"I take Muggle Studies, so I know how to dress like one," Daphne said, still a bit annoyed with Amos for the way he talked about Harry earlier.

They set off across the deserted moor, unable to make out much through the mist. Daphne wondered if the mist itself was part of the location's secrecy.

After about twenty minutes, they came across a stone cottage next to a gate, beyond which they could see 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 stood in the doorway, looking out at the tents. He seemed a bit suspicious of the large number of people, and Daphne suspected he was a Muggle. When he heard their footsteps, he turned his head to look at them.

"Morning!" Mr. Weasley said brightly.

"Morning," the man said.

"Would you be Mr. Roberts?"

"Aye, I would," Mr. Roberts said. "And who're you?"

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

"Aye," Mr. Roberts said, consulting a list tacked to the door. "You've got a space up by the wood there. Just the one night?"

"That's it," Mr. Weasley said.

"You'll be paying now, then?" Mr. Roberts asked.

"Ah, right…certainly…" Mr. Weasley said.

He retreated a short distance and beckoned Harry over him, and Daphne figured he needed help with the Muggle money. She wondered how Mr. Weasley, one of the most Muggle-loving wizards she knew, managed to do his job when he knew so little about them. Hadn't Muggle Studies been a class during his own time at Hogwarts, or something? Something as elementary as an exchange rate could be covered in a single lesson, and had been. Sure, Muggle money looked stupid, but it wasn't particularly difficult to use.

"You foreign?" Mr. Roberts asked when Mr. Weasley approached him with the money.

"Foreign?" Mr. Weasley repeated, puzzled.

"You're not the first one who's had trouble with money," Mr. Roberts said, scrutinizing Mr. Weasley closely. "I had two try and pay me with great gold coins the size of hubcaps ten minutes ago."

"Did you really?" Mr. Weasley said 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…"

"Is that right?" Mr. Weasley said, his hand held out for his change, but Mr. Roberts didn't give it to him.

"Aye," he 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."

"Shouldn't he?" Mr. Weasley said anxiously, and Daphne had to exercise all her self-control not to stare in incredulity. Again, the topic of Muggle fashion at its most basic could be, and had been, covered in one single lesson. What was the Ministry doing if employees from an Office that regularly dealt with Muggles didn't even have that basic knowledge?

"It's like some sort of…I dunno…like some sort of rally," Mr. Roberts said. "They all seem to know each other. Like a big party."

At that moment, a wizard wearing trousers that came to halfway down his calves appeared out of thin air next to Mr. Roberts's front door.

"Obliviate!" he said sharply, pointing his wand at Mr. Roberts.

Instantly, Mr. Roberts's eyes slid out of focus, his brows unknitted, and a look of dreamy unconcern fell over his face.

This was the first time Daphne had seen a memory modification being done in front of her, and it scared her far more than it should. She knew Muggles often had their memories wiped of magical affairs, but seeing its effects up close was disturbing.

"A map of the campsite for you," Mr. Roberts said placidly to Mr. Weasley. "And your change."

"Thanks very much," Mr. Weasley said. Evidently he wasn't disturbed by the casual mindwipe that had just happened next to him.

The wizard in the odd 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, and Daphne was now even more concerned than she'd been mere moments before. Wouldn't all those Memory Charms leave permanent damage? And wouldn't Mr. Roberts himself begin wondering if something was going on with him? Daphne figured that he might have told someone else something, and he himself would be unable to remember it if his mind had been wiped. The very idea that a spell existed to remove and alter people's memories was actually terrifying, the more she thought about it, and she hoped she'd never have it used against her.

They walked up the misty field between long rows of tents. Most looked relatively normal by Muggle standards, but some of the tents clearly weren't, and Daphne wasn't surprised Mr. Roberts had been getting suspicious.

"Always the same," Mr. Weasley said with a smile. "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, with a small sign hammered into the ground that read WEEZLY.

"Couldn't have a better spot," Mr. Weasley said 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?"

Daphne sighed. No magic allowed, yet three tents over someone had erected something that could pass for a small keep. It even had a drawbridge. Camping wasn't something Daphne had had any classes on, yet, but she tried to help as much as she could anyway, under the direction of Harry and Hermione, and eventually the two shabby tents had been set up. They definitely didn't look magical, though Daphne knew they were far bigger on the inside than they seemed to be from the outside.

She entered one of the tents, the one the boys would be using, and winced at the smell of cats in it.

"I hope ours isn't this bad," she whispered to Hermione and Ginny, who nodded in agreement.

Fortunately, the girls' tent, while a bit smaller, at least didn't smell like a hundred cats had lived there.

After the quick tour of the tents, Daphne, Harry, Hermione, and Ron got sent out to get some water, meaning they finally got to explore the camping grounds a bit, and it soon became clear that quite a few people didn't care much for the anti-Muggle security, though some, at least, made token efforts to appear Muggle.

At one point, they crossed a section where every tent had been covered in shamrocks, and Daphne presumed that this was a very Irish section of the crowd. They were greeted by Seamus Finnigan, one of Harry's classmates, who was there with his mother and his friend Dean Thomas.

"Funny to see a bunch of Gryffindors in green for a change," Daphne said teasingly.

"Well, as long as you'll be wearing green today as well, it's all good," Seamus said. "Don't you dare wear red today, of all days."

Daphne grinned at him. "No worries, all green for us," she said.

"Like we'd say anything else surrounded by that lot," Ron muttered as they moved on.

They passed the Bulgarian tents as well, where the tents hadn't been covered in plants, but rather with the same poster of a boy with heavy black eyebrows and a surly expression, who scowled at everyone walking past.

"Krum," Ron said quietly.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"Krum! Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker!" Ron said, as if he couldn't believe Hermione didn't know him. Daphne decided not to mention that she hadn't known him, either.

"He looks really grumpy," Hermione said.

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

"Isn't Harry a genius too, though, when it comes to flying?" Daphne asked.

Harry was suddenly very interested in something that happened on the other side of the field and turned his head away.

"Harry's good, no doubt," Ron agreed. "But Krum is…well, again, you'll see."

They reached the tap and joined the queue just behind two wizards in the middle of an argument about one's choice in dress, but while the man wearing the long flowery nightgown would probably look out of place in the Muggle world, his dress style was still more coordinated than Basil's kilt and poncho had been, so Daphne wondered why the Ministry wizard was attempting to make him wear trousers in the first place. She did consider informing Archie about the existence of kilts when he mentioned his reasonings for wearing the nightgown, though, as she vaguely recalled what those were infamous for from her class on Muggle clothing. That realization gave her questions about Basil she really didn't want an answer to.

Eventually, after filling their kettle and saucepans with water, they made their way back to the tent, running into several other people from Hogwarts on the way, as well as many other witches and wizards.

Since Mr. Weasley hadn't yet managed to light a fire by the time they got back, Daphne decided to set off alone to look for her parents between the many, many tents, and eventually found them some ways behind the Irish section.

Their tent looked Muggle enough, but the way they were dressed almost caused Daphne to miss them entirely until they called out to her. She'd only seen her parents dressed in Muggle clothes once, when they went to pick up Harry the year before, but now they looked completely different.

Both wore faded, ripped jeans, heavy black boots, and studded belts. Mum wore a black shirt that had a logo of what Daphne guessed was a Muggle band on it, while Dad wore a sleeveless black leather vest covered in studs and safety pins. Mum had bright pink streaks in her hair, while Dad's normally light-brown hair was now green and spiky. Both of them had also conjured many tattoos on their arms.

"What in Merlin's name are you two supposed to be?" Daphne asked.

"We're punk, of course," Mum said. "It's what we wore for the '82 World Cup too, and we were feeling nostalgic. The music's a lot of noise but the clothes! Come on, admit that it looks fun."

"What if there're other pureblood families here?" Daphne asked.

Dad shrugged. "As if they'd have any clue what Muggle clothes look like. We're simply following the dress code. We need to look like Muggles, so we dressed like Muggles. No one ever said we needed to look like regular Muggles," he said with a grin.

"I…am so glad I'm not here with you…" Daphne said with a shake of her head.

"We'll be in the Top Box too," Dad reminded her. "So you'll have to see us, whether you want to or not."

Daphne groaned. Harry and Hermione had grown up with Muggles, so they'd definitely know that Mum and Dad looked odd even for Muggles. Just wonderful. Even when her parents weren't actively trying to embarrass her, they still managed it.

Before anyone from school could spot her talking to her parents she moved on. She left the first field and walked for a long time to make her way to the third one, where a small wooden hut had been hastily created to manage the arrivals. A harried-looking witch sat behind the small counter in the hut.

"Hello," Daphne said.

"Hello," the witch replied wearily.

"Are you Miss Webb?" Daphne asked.

The witch nodded.

"I'm looking for Valentina Barese. She's supposed to be on this field?"

Miss Webb checked a list. "She's on the back of the field. Keep to the middle path, then head left at the end and you'll come across her tent," she said hollowly.

"Are– are you okay?" Daphne asked hesitantly.

"Just really, really tired," Miss Webb said. "This field's mostly foreigners. More than half of them don't speak a word of English, or at least pretend not to, at any rate. They also don't care one bit for the precautions. I've been…tempted to hex them into oblivion on more than one occasion, but 'that might cause an international incident'. Let them sit here for two weeks, see how they like it…I'll give them an 'international incident'."

Daphne chuckled. "Well…it'll be over soon," she said.

"It better be," Miss Webb said darkly.

Daphne set off across the field, looking at the tents and people around her, and like Miss Webb had said, most of the conversations she heard were in languages she didn't know. She hoped Valentina Barese did speak English, because Daphne certainly didn't speak Italian.

She reached the final row of tents and headed left, like Miss Webb had said, and eventually came to a large tent that could pass for Muggle, but at the same time looked out of place regardless, probably because of the very palpable feel of magic in the air around it.

A middle-aged witch with long, dark brown hair sat in a folding chair in front of the tent, reading a book that appeared to be written entirely in runes. She looked up when Daphne approached.

"Excuse me, are you Valentina Barese?" Daphne asked. It felt like her voice sent ripples through the magical field around the tent, almost as if she were speaking underwater.

"Who wants to know?" the witch asked in a strong Italian accent.

"My name is Daphne Greengrass. Bill Weasley told me to talk to you about–"

"Ah, yes, the curse of misfortune," the witch said. Her dark brown eyes lit up. "Those are very challenging indeed. Finding me at all was actually the first challenge; curses like that usually cause their sufferer to be unable to find help. It takes someone looking for a curse breaker of their own volition to have a chance of success — if they can find one at all."

"Do you…think you can help?" Daphne asked hesitantly.

Barese conjured another folding chair out of nowhere and gestured for Daphne to sit down as well.

"I might be able to," she said. "First, I'll need some information on the victim. How long has he suffered from the curse? How does it generally manifest?"

"He's suffered from it since his second year, and he graduated last year, so around five years, and he mainly ends up in the infirmary a lot."

"So, bodily harm, then?"

Daphne nodded. "I suppose. Are there differences?" she asked.

"Of course there are," Barese said, sounding a bit offended that Daphne would think otherwise. "Many curses of misfortune exist to annoy their victims. They don't cause physical injury, but instead lead to objects around them breaking, missing appointments, that sort of thing.

"Others are intended to cause grievous harm or death. Muggles often have legends about these, like the 'Hope Diamond'. That particular one is a hoax, mind you, but objects of that nature do exist.

"Then, there are curses like the one you describe. They cause bodily harm, but aren't often fatal. Those curses are very nasty and among the most difficult ones to break. Have you ever heard of Felix Felicis?"

Daphne shook her head.

"It's a potion known as 'liquid luck'. Rather than making a person truly lucky, it causes them to make the decisions most likely to bring about the results they desire. In essence, it uses arithmantic properties to make its drinker appear 'lucky'.

"Curses of misfortune work similarly, in that they prompt a person to take the path most likely to lead them to, in this case, injury. As a side effect, it will also almost ensure that a victim cannot seek help on their own: every decision they make to that effect will be met by failure, which is why an external party must make the decision to seek help on their own volition. The curse cannot affect events directly, only decisions made by the victim.

"Felix Felicis has sometimes been used as a temporary measure to alleviate the effects of curses like these, but it's extremely difficult to brew and therefore very expensive, and will also build a tolerance over time, lessening its effectiveness."

"Would it be possible to…curse someone with luck, then? To counter the effects of the earlier curse?" Daphne asked.

Barese smiled. "A logical question, and not one many witches or wizards would think of. Yes, that would be possible, but it's only a temporary measure at best. Curses of that nature don't play nice together and the older one usually wins out in the end. Fortunately, they can be broken. Almost all curses can be.

"The trouble is that it's very dangerous and takes a long time to do. The observation period alone would take at least a month, and the ritual to break the curse might last two weeks, during which the victim must be held in a magical sleep; every decision they would make at that point would be sure to cause the ritual to fail as the curse attempts to save itself, and therefore the victim must not be allowed to make any decisions at all for the duration of the ritual.

"That, in turn, makes it impossible for the curse breaker to ensure that there are no ill effects on the victim's mind or magic. Yes, curses like these are difficult indeed…"

Despite the grim nature of what Barese was saying, she'd begun to look progressively more excited while talking, as if she was relishing the challenge and was hoping to get a chance to actually attempt it.

"If you give me the victim's details, I'll visit him once the Quidditch Cup is over," Barese said. "I won't be making an appointment with him, as his curse would inevitably cause him to suggest moments at which I'm not available, or his messages would be lost."

"How much would it cost him?" Daphne asked. "No sense in breaking the curse if he'd put himself in debt forever."

Barese shrugged. "I lack neither work nor money. I'll charge something he'll be able to afford. I don't get to break curses like this often, so I would be doing this for my own enjoyment, mostly."

Daphne didn't hesitate long and told Barese where she'd be able to find Isaac. Whether he'd take the risk to go through with the actual ritual would be up to him.

She thanked Barese for her time and hoped that she'd be able to help Isaac, and headed back to her own tent, hoping that Mr. Weasley would have managed to get the fire started by now. She didn't want to go to the match hungry, after all.

I was tempted to call this chapter 'On the Camping', but that's a joke that no one who isn't Dutch would get, as it references a parody song called 'Op de Camping', set to the tune of the Village People's 'In the Navy'. If you do happen to speak Dutch, you can probably find the song on YouTube.

Aside from that, Valentina Barese will be making another appearance down the line…probably. In my current idea she will, anyway.