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"Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill" said a nasally voice. Harry looked up. Mr Weasley, Mr Diggory and Cedric were still standing, though looking very windswept; everybody else was on the ground. The Portkey had caused Harry's feet to slam into the ground so hard he thought his knee's were shattered. He looked around frantically for Hermione. She was already standing, readjusting her clothes and helping Ginny stand up; the rucksack weighing the small girl down. Harry watched happily as Neville ran over to help.
Harry disentangled himself from Ron and got to his feet. 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 and the other a thick roll of parchment.
"Morning Basil" Mr Weasley said, greeting the man dressed in Scottish kilt.
"Hello there Arthur" Basil answered wearily. He looked very bedraggled and in need of a good nights rest. "Not on duty eh? Its alright for some...we've been here all night-"concluding Harry's assessment of the man-"Hang on I'll find you campsite...Weasley...Weasley". He consulted his parchment list. "About a quarter of a miles walk over there, first field you come to...Diggory...second field"
The group quickly exited the portkey landing site and made there way across the deserted moor in a bustle of heaving rucksacks. After about twenty minutes, a small stone cottage next to a gate swam into view. Beyond it, Harry could just make out the ghostly shapes of hundreds and hundreds of tents, rising up in the gentle slope of a large field towards a dark wood on the horizon. The sight of it reminded Harry of the Dark Forest, if a little smaller.
Harry quickly glanced at Hermione, to see if she had noticed to wood too. But it seemed as if she was purposefully looking everywhere but the horizon. It irked Harry to see that that meant long periods of staring at Cedric bloody Diggory. He'd be happy when they left. A man was standing in the doorway of the cottage at the entrance to the first field. He was a stout man with a quizzical expression on his face. Staring at the newcomers like they were visiting aliens.
Harry knew at a glance that this was the only real muggle for several acres. The Diggory's left rather quickly, giving a quick goodbye to Mr Weasley and furtive glance at Harry. Who, happily walked up a bit closer to Hermione and pictured a thousand fantasies of him gaining her attention in a few cheeky ways. Although that feeling quickly died away and he just strode past her purposefully.
It turns out that the man was the owner to the adjacent field, a Mr Roberts. By the end of the groups meeting with him, the poor muggle had to obliviated three times; to keep him happy. A wizard would pop out of no where when Mr Roberts started asking questions and quieted him before he became too hysterical.
They all trudged up the misty field between long rows of tents. Harry made sure to keep his distance for Hermione. In such a public place, he couldn't risk it, he couldn't risk her safety. Most of the tents they passed looked ordinary; their owners had clearly tried to make them as muggle-like as possible, but had slipped up by adding chimneys, or bell-pulls, or weather vanes. However there were some tents so obviously magical Harry wasn't surprised that Mr Roberts was suspicious. Tents like mini palaces and tents with three floors complete with sun dial and fountains.
They had reached the very edge of the wood at the top of the field, and here was an empty plot, with a small sign hammered into the ground that read 'Weezly'.
Out of no where a war like cry echoed throughout the field and Harry was speared to the floor. He started fighting and scrambling to get the body pressing into him away, only to come face to face with Seamus Finnigan; who had also grown in size over the summer.
"Hiya Golden Boy" he smirked, jumped up and extended his hand to help Harry up.
"What the hell!" Harry shouted indignantly, batting away Seamus's hand and ruffling his hair; while staying firmly seated on the ground.
"That was for last year, nobody pranks me and gets away with it" Seamus said, posing as if he were god. Harry took one look at him and tackled his friends legs, dragging him down to the ground with a resounding thud.
"Alright boys, break it up!" Mr Weasley had come to break up the full on wrestling match. He tore the boys apart with the help of Fred and George.
"Enough lady's" Ron smirked, standing in between Harry and Seamus; who were both being held back by one of the twins. "You're both pretty" he said mock sincerely. Fred and George took one look at each other before releasing their grip on the two fighters so Harry and Seamus could lace into the ginger prick. Before Mr Weasley could tell what was happening, Fred, George, Harry, Seamus, Ron and somehow Neville were all in a huge scrap in the middle of the plot of grass meant for the Weasley tents.
"What. The. Fuck." Dean Thomas stared at the group sparring in front of him. Neville was riding Ron's back like a bucking broncho, his hands covering the Weasley boys eyes as he blindly wobbled forwards and backwards. Fred was getting ready to shove, what looked like a yellow sweet down Ron's throat and George was caught in a tussle between Seamus and Harry. Seamus looked to be sporting a black eye and Harry had a popped lip, along with his eyebrow bleeding profusely.
"Mr Weasley!" Dean shouted to the other side of the fight, he walked around keeping well clear of the flying limbs. Arthur Weasley was busy trying to set up a shabby looking tent, clearly having given up on controlling the boys. "Whats happened?"
"Boy's being boys...its all for fun-"they both eyed the group carefully-"I think...Hermione!" Arthur called, beckoning Miss Granger to his side.
A loud spluttering and gasping for air caught the spectators attention. Harry Potter was lying face down on the ground, clutching his side in agony. He had clearly been caught of guard, distracted by something and now was thoroughly winded.
"Seamus you wanker!" he gasped, trying to catch his breath. The group of boys enclosed on Harry, the fight ended. Mr Weasley rushed over, pushed his way in between his sons and knelt down next to Harry. Once Arthur had checked the boy over he was happy that Harry would be fine, just with a very tender bruise over his abdomen.
"Come on Harry"-Mr Weasley helped him up-"What do the muggles say? Rub some dirt in it! For penance you idiots are setting up the tent!"
That left Ginny and Hermione resting on the grass in the midday sun, while the boys tried to put together a simple tent; Arthur was too excited about doing it the muggle way to let the boys have all the 'fun'. Hermione noticed he looked more like a hindrance than a help.
"They're such idiots" Ginny announced for the thousandth time, she was twisting her hair around her finger absentmindedly and staring straight at Harry, clearly not upset with his behavior.
"Boys" Hermione said with venom, not amused at all by their antics. Harry got exactly what he deserved, she hope he'd cracked a rib.
"Yeah, boys" Ginny sighed not following Hermione's train of thought at all.