"Camp Morningstar is a one of a kind camping experience. Here, wizard and Muggle young people will mingle and interact, learning more about each other and themselves in the process. It is to be hoped that they will learn tolerance and acceptance of each other from their unique experiences here at camp.
"The camp is a joint venture
between the Ministry of Magic and the newly-formed International Muggle-Wizard
Relations Facilitation Council, a primarily Muggle organization. Both have
expressed hopes for the success of the camp, and plans for similar camps in
Asia and North America are being formed right now."
- From the introduction to Camp Morningstar: A Camper's Guide. (Not written by Sirius Black or any else who actually plans to work at the camp.)
Camp Morningstar, August 9, 1993
"This stupid camp is all your fault, Harry," Neville grumbled the second morning they were there. They had woken up to find Dudley and his friends, Piers and Blake.
"My fault? How could it be my fault?" Harry pulled his shirt over his head and stared at Neville. "Did I ask to come here?"
"No, but if your dad hadn't asked mine to send me, I wouldn't be here." Neville was already dressed and seated on the bunk. Ron hadn't yet gotten out of his bed, but he groaned and rolled over.
"Nev'l, it's Sirius Black's fault," he said sleepily. "He's the one who organized this whole thing."
"Because Riddle told him too, that's why," Harry said, defending his godfather. "I heard him talking with my dad weeks ago, saying how much he did not want to run this stupid camp."
"It is a stupid camp," Ron agreed. "Why don't we just ask if we can start Hogwarts a few weeks early this year?"
"Let's not even think about school," Harry groaned, locating a sock from under the bunk. "Hurry up or my fat cousin will have eaten the whole mess hall." He shoved Ron out of bed.
"Ow! You didn't need to do that, Harry!"
"Come on, or the food will be gone," Harry repeated. "Anyway, I wanted to see if Dad will let us out of baseball today. Whose idea were the Muggle sports, anyway?"
~~
"Whose idea was it to let the Beaters play baseball, anyway?" Madame Pomfrey grumbled as she healed bumps and cuts. "They're too dangerous to let near clubs and balls, not when there are Muggles around."
"Bats," Jenny corrected as she bandaged Parvati Patil's scraped knee. "And the wizard kids just don't seem to understand the concept of 'sliding', either."
"Well, someone's going to come in with more than a scraped knee or a bruised head sooner or later," Pomfrey predicated dryly. "There, you're done. Run along."
"Only twelve more days left," Jenny sighed when the infirmary was empty. "Then we can go back to fighting pureblood supremacists and such."
"Yes, did you ever find out why the Potters were attacked?"
"According to our spy, it's because James married Lily. She's Muggleborn, and the Potters are a very old wizarding family." Jenny shook her head. "Apparently they hate that almost as much as wizard-Muggle marriages."
"It's ridiculous, really," Madame Pomfrey sniffed. "My grandmother, for one, was a Muggle, and I know most other wizards have Muggle blood in them not too far back."
"Yes, or we'd die out." Jenny sighed. "Most pureblood families just don't have enough children to carry on. Look at the Malfoys, there's only one son in that family. And then you have big families like the Weasleys who couldn't care less about that pureblood nonsense." She put away the supplies the two women had been using. "I've got to go now, the chess tournament has started and I'll be needed to judge matches."
"Then what? After lunch, I mean."
"Oh, there's some guest lecturer, a monster hunter, I believe." Jenny frowned in concentration. "Loveheart, Lockheed – Lockhart, that's who."
"Gilderoy Lockhart? Wrote a load of books?"
"That sounds right. I've got to be off now, but I'll see you at lunch."
"I may have to attend this lecture myself; some of the books had rather curious errors and I'd like to ask Lockhart a few questions," Pomfrey said to an empty room.
~~
"Greetings, campers, wizards and Muggles alike. I am Gilderoy Lockhart, and my list of honors is too long to list here, though you can find it on the back of the brochure for my books you've all received. I'm sure all you wizard boys and girls know me, and feel free to ask for autographs afterwards, but for you Muggles, well, you have a real treat in store for you today! I'm going to be talking about monsters, the sort that I fight all the time. You have my word that every word of this speech is true – and nobody doubts Gilderoy Lockhart's words!
"To begin, I'm going to tell you about the time I met a werewolf in broad daylight, coming down the street. He was only partially transformed, as the moon was not yet full, but still extremely dangerous. People all around were cowering and screaming; I of course took no notice. Then I saw that the beast had trapped a small girl in a telephone booth. With no regard for personal safety, I plunged in, hemlock in one hand and sword in the other-"
"Hold on," came an anonymous voice from the crowd. "Werewolves don't transform in broad daylight, and it's wolfsbane, not hemlock." The crowd shifted uneasily in their seats. Gilderoy Lockhart was at the front, on stage, at a podium. Behind him sat several adults who were supposed to keep order in this session. Madame Pomfrey sat watching attentively between Remus Lupin, who had a faint smile on his face, and a Muggle. Lockhart seemed to recover quickly from the criticism.
"Did I misspeak? I meant wolfsbane, of course. Please refrain from interrupting. As I was saying, I defeated the werewolf easily. Too easily; he fled and moments later returned with his accomplices, a vampire and a hag mounted on a hippogriff. They surrounded me. Thankfully the streets were now clear and I had no fear of collateral damage, so I laid about me with varied difficult spells and not a few blows from my fists. I slew the hag easily-"
"Now wait," another voice chimed in. "Vampires in daylight? I don't think so. My dad was a vampire hunter years ago, and vampires don't come out in broad daylight. And hags don't ride hippogriffs; they're frightened of heights."
"You're a fraud!" someone else said. Other voices chimed in.
"Mr. Lockhart, there have been at least twenty factual errors in your talk," Hermione began, hardly audible over the crowd. She shoved her way toward the front, the boys in tow, the pamphlet listing Lockhart's books in one hand. "I've noted down most of them – my pen ran out of ink a minute ago – and perhaps you could explain them?"
"Indeed, Mr. Lockhart." The room was quiet now, so everyone could hear Remus speak. "I have quite extensive knowledge of dark creatures, and have found your books to be riddled with mistakes, fabrications, and outright lies. Perhaps you would care to explain?"
"Nonsense!" Lockhart said, but his face had lost most of its color. "You people simply do not know as much about such creatures as I. There are many things a book cannot teach, you know."
"You're just lying!" Ron declared loudly. "I don't believe a word of it!" After that the uproar was so loud that no individual could be heard. Lockhart was hustled off the stage by several adults, to loud boos and hisses from the crowd. After a bit one of the camp aides came out and told everyone that the afternoon session was canceled and they could do as they wished.
"Well, that was interesting," Neville remarked as they left. "Care for a game of Quidditch, Harry? Ron?"
"Well, I don't know about you, but I promised my bunkmates – the Muggle ones – an explanation of our social and political structure," Hermione began. "Now would be an excellent time to educate Muggles about our kind."
"Hermione, in case you've forgotten, our bunkmates are Harry's cousin and his friends," Ron said. "They won't listen, even if we did want to waste time with those louts."
"Oh, well said," Neville remarked, punching Ron on the shoulder. "Come on, let's go swimming."
"Hmph." Hermione trounced off in a snit.
"She just doesn't understand the point of the summer holidays," Ron sighed after her, theatrically. "Last one in the lake is a Slytherin!"
~~
"Right, now who's idea was it to have that joker lecture?" James looked at Sirius, who was grinning like a Cheshire Cat. "Yours?"
"Not this time, Prongs. His name was on a list of suggested guest speakers I got months ago, and he was the only one who could actually make it, so I invited him. How was I to know he was a complete fraud?"
"Reading his books did it for me," Remus said, coming in in time to hear the last few words. "Didn't know he was speaking here until yesterday or I'd have asked you about him."
"Let me guess," James said shrewdly, sitting down. "You didn't bother to read his books."
"No, I didn't. I haven't had any time," Sirius pointed out. "This blasted camp – I'm going to tell Riddle that if he ever wants to do this again he'd better find someone else. And that's even if we don't have any real problems."
"Have you heard any rumors or anything?" James asked sharply, leaning forward in his chair.
"Not really, just the usual."
"That's a relief." But he was still obviously worried. "Well, if the worst we get is a few wizards playing practical jokes on the Muggles…"
"Oh, you heard about this morning?"
"No. What?"
Sirius grinned. "A couple of boys woke up floating about three feet above the ground. The shouts were enough to wake up most of their neighbors, but the culprits – their bunkmates - apparently slept right through it. Turns out they'd been knocked out by some Muggle sleeping potion, something like that. Apparently this cabin is having problems with our "Let's all be friends" policy." Sirius sat down. "So they're making friends over the dishes, on kitchen patrol together for the next three days."
"Good. Anyone we know involved in this?"
"No, thankfully. I'm still sure that Harry's cabin is going to have problems, though."
"You might be right. I came across Dudley and his friends earlier complaining about how dreadful this camp is and how much they hate wizards. They didn't see me." James now grinned as well. "They got their dessert privileges revoked."
"Hmm. Your nephew could use some of that," Sirius said. "Anyway, you see there's nothing specific I can go to Riddle with, but I just have this feeling anyway."
"So do I, to tell the truth. We'll just keep our eyes open and hope for the best." James sighed and the grin faded. "When this is all over, I'm taking a long break from the Ministry and relaxing."
Sirius nodded his assent slowly. "Me too."
Oh, gosh, it's been forever. Sorry, guys, but I got a huge dose of real life back there. Hopefully the next piece will be more prompt, but I don't know as I'm getting a summer job and don't know my hours yet….
It's not up to the quality of the last piece but I
needed just one piece before the real stuff starts to build up suspense. Next time, death threats, kidnappings,
explosions, and a Draco Malfoy who will never wear leather pants. Or at least
three of those four. I promise.