August 1994

Over the next few weeks, Hermione realised that Sirius had been right. It wasn't that she ever really doubted that, but blindly acting on the word of someone she'd only known for a few weeks wasn't exactly a smart thing to do, even if that someone was your best friend's godfather.

The Weasleys were the kind of family anyone would want to belong to. Even when sibling arguments erupted - which they did, and frequently - it was always more fond bickering than full-blown rows.

Aside from the thing with the twins, but no one spoke about that.

After a week, Ginny had convinced Hermione to tell her brothers about her father, and all five - Percy had been at work - promptly adopted her as an honorary Weasley, just as they already had with Bethany.

Fred was still occasionally checking up on her to make sure she was okay.

Bill and Charlie had subsequently talked Hermione into telling their parents, who had immediately insisted that she stay with them the following summer, despite Hermione's insistence that she would find other arrangements.

On Sunday evening, the day before the World Cup, Ron and the twins went with Arthur to get Bethany from the Dursleys via floo.

Hermione was sure that the Dursleys were not the kind of people to have an open fireplace, but Arthur had gone to such trouble to get the house hooked up to the network she didn't say anything.

Besides, Bethany's aunt and uncle deserved to have people show up in their chimney and have to blast the living room apart, which was exactly what they happened.

Hermione and Ginny were just walking downstairs, discussing Ginny's class choices for her third year, when Molly's voice came floating out of the kitchen.

"Tell me what, Arthur?"

"Uh oh," Ginny muttered. "Dad's going to get it."

"What do you think happened?" Hermione asked.

"Well, Dad only ever threatens the twins with Mum," Ginny said, "so it could be anything."

When they opened the kitchen door, Fred and George looked like they were about to face the full force of their mother.

Bethany was chewing her lower lip in a way that made her look anxious, but Hermione knew meant that she was desperately trying not to laugh.

Bill, Charlie and Ron didn't appear to be trying at all.

Arthur was currently muttering something about the twins and having spoken to them, and Hermione put two and two together.

"What have they done this time?" Molly asked in exasperation. "If it's got anything to do with Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes …"

"Ron," Hermione said, getting his attention. "Why don't we show Bethany where she's sleeping?"

"She knows where my room is," Ron said, his brow creasing.

"We can all go," Hermione said pointedly.

Ron followed her gaze to his mother. "Oh! Oh, yeah. Come on."

"Yeah, we'll come too," Fred added.

"You stay where you are!" Molly snapped.

Bethany ducked away from the twins' attempts to use her as a human shield, and hurried over to follow Ron, Hermione and Ginny up to Ron's attic room.

Bethany was getting better with physical contact, but Hermione still made sure to make eye contact before slipping an arm around her shoulders to give her a small hug.

"What are Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes?" Bethany asked.

Ron and Ginny began laughing. Hermione's mouth twitched, but she fought back her own laugh for the sake of appearances.

"Mum found a stack of order forms when she was cleaning the twins' room last week," Ron explained. "Price-lists for things they've invented; joke stuff. Fake wands … trick sweets … loads of stuff. We've been hearing explosions coming from their room for ages, but we never thought they were actually inventing things; we thought they just liked the noise."

"I knew," Ginny said smugly.

So had Hermione. She had already picked up at school that a lot of the pranks the twins pulled had no basis in anything pre-existing.

"Mum went mad at them," Ron continued. "Told them they weren't allowed to make any more, and burned all the order forms. She was furious with them anyway; they didn't get as many OWLs as she expected."

"And then there was this big row," Ginny said. "Because Mum wants them to go into the Ministry like Dad and Percy, and all they want to do is open a joke shop."

That had been a very uncomfortable day for Hermione, and she had spent most of it out in the garden with a book, not wanting to get involved.

From what she had seen, the twins had gained a perfectly reasonable amount of OWLs, and good ones at that - for one person, not two.

She had also noticed that neither of them had passed the same exams as the other, which made her wonder if they had done it on purpose - split the work, knowing what they'd need for a business.

She had also seen the hurt under the anger that both had been trying to hide.

Before Bethany could comment, Percy's door flew open and his head poked out again, just as it had the day Hermione had arrived.

"Hi Percy," Bethany greeted.

"Oh, hello Bethany," Percy said. "I was wondering who was making all the noise. I'm trying to work in here, you know - I've got a report to finish for the office …"

Hermione zoned out. She had found Percy's job fairly interesting at first - but there was only so many times one could listen to people talk about cauldron thickness.

The door slammed shut again, and she jumped, making Bethany snigger at her.

Ginny suddenly smirked. "Three … two … one …"

Shouts from the kitchen echoed up to them - it sounded like Arthur had told his wife what had happened.

"Good timing," Hermione said.

Ron's bedroom was right up under the attic. It wasn't big enough to fit another bed in, like Ginny's, but a mattress was made up on the floor.

Pig was hopping up and down in his cage, squawking with excitement.

"Shut up, Pig," Ron said tiredly.

"Why are you calling that owl Pig?" Bethany asked.

"Because he's being stupid," Ginny answered, squeezing into the room. "His real name is Pigwidgeon."

"Yeah, because that's not a stupid name at all," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "Ginny named him; she thinks he's sweet. I've tried to change it, but it was too late; that's all he answers to now. And I've got to keep him up here because he annoys Errol and Hermes. He annoys me too, if I'm honest."

Fury and betrayal rose up beside her, and Hermione put a hand on Bethany's arm, knowing where it was coming from.

Ron had always bitterly complained about Scabbers too, but he was heartbroken when it looked like the rat had died.

Bethany glanced sideways at her, clearly surprised that Hermione appeared to have read her mind, but didn't mention it. Instead, she asked: "Where's Crookshanks, Hermione?"

"Out in the garden, I expect," Hermione answered fondly. "He's never seen gnomes before; loves chasing them. How are you anyway, Beth? Did you get our food parcels and everything?"

Bethany grinned at her. "Yeah, thanks. Saved my life, those cakes. Although Jess did take care of me, so it wasn't too bad."

"I thought you had to be careful how much time you spent with her," Hermione said.

"I did," Bethany said. "But …" her eyes darted to Ginny and she went silent.

"She knows about Padfoot," Hermione said.

Bethany breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh good. We were going to tell you," she added to Ginny. "Anyway, since they found out I have a godfather who's a convicted murderer and likes to check up on me, they've been much more agreeable."

"Is that what happened with the glasses?" Ginny asked.

"What about the glasses?" Ron asked blankly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Don't take it personally, Beth."

"It's fine," Bethany said with a shrug. "Ron, do you notice anything different about me?"

Panic entered Ron's eyes. "No … Wait, yes! Your glasses are different!"

Last time they had seen Bethany, her glasses had been thin and round, almost identical to the glasses her father had been wearing in old photographs.

These had frames a little thicker with a curve to them and a slight tint of green.

"Jess took me to the opticians," Bethany said with a smile. "Well, she took me to Diagon Alley first, and I converted some money, and then we went to the opticians. She wasn't happy about me paying for them, but …" she shrugged. "The Dursleys should be. Them not doing that doesn't mean it's fair for her to pay out."

Hermione was quite impressed Jess hadn't just argued and done it anyway - she seemed to have a knack for knowing when Bethany could be pushed on something, and when she really couldn't be.

"What about you?" Bethany asked. "How have your summers been?"

"Fine," Ron and Ginny said, both of them looking at Hermione.

Hermione faltered. "Later," she said. "I think Mrs Weasley's stopped shouting, so it'll nearly be dinner time."

Bethany narrowed her eyes at her. "Promise?"

"Promise," Hermione said with a sigh.

By the time they got downstairs, Molly was alone in the kitchen, looking extremely bad-tempered.

"We're eating in the garden," she told them shortly. "There's just no room for eleven people in here. Ginny, Hermione, could you take the plates outside? Bill and Charlie are setting the tables up."

Ginny and Hermione grabbed the plates and made a run for it, as Molly told Ron and Bethany to collect knives and forks.

"How long do you think it will take them to follow us?" Hermione asked.

Ginny laughed. "If they've got any sense, not long. Mum's in a …. What on earth was that?"

A loud crash from up ahead and made them both jump. They hurried around the corner to see Fred and George laughing, while Bill and Charlie made the two tables, about ten feet in the air, crash into each other, each trying to knock the other one out of the air.

By the time Ron and Bethany got outside, Ginny was laughing with the twins, and Hermione was hovering near the hedge, unsure whether to laugh or not.

The decision was made for her when Percy's bedroom window flew open. "Will you keep it down?! I have a report to finish!"

"Sorry, Percy," Bill called, signalling to Charlie to place the tables down. "How are the cauldron bottoms coming along?"

"Very badly," Percy snapped, slamming the window shut again, and thankfully not noticing Hermione join Ginny and the twins in their laughter.

As always, Molly outdid herself with dinner. Hermione tucked in to chicken-and-ham pie, potatoes and salad, only half-listening to the conversations around her - Percy was telling his father about his report (for the tenth time), Molly and Bill were arguing about his earring and the length of his hair (for the fiftieth time, at least since Hermione had been there), and Charlie and the twins were discussing the World Cup.

"What happened to England?" Bethany asked eagerly, when Charlie bemoaned their fate.

"Went out to Romania, three-hundred-and-twenty to ten," Charlie said grumpily.

Bethany stared at him. "How … What … Were they asleep on their brooms or something?!"

"Entire team needs to be replaced," George said through a mouthful of potato. "Overpaid airheads, the lot of them."

"Bulgaria's going to win," Fred said, turning back to Charlie. "They've got Krum."

"Krum's only one player," Hermione said absently. "Ireland have seven."

Bethany raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you pay attention to Quidditch?"

Hermione jerked a head at the twins and Charlie. "These three have had this same debate every night since I got here."

"We have not," George protested.

"Have too," Hermione said, setting down her fork.

"Alright then, Mya," Fred said, slinging an arm around the back of her chair. "What's your prediction then?"

Hermione thought for a moment, trying not to notice the warmth of his body seeping into hers. "Well … if Krum's as good as you say he is then he's going to catch the Snitch. But if Ireland's Chasers are as good as you say they are, then he's going to have his work cut out making sure Bulgaria are more than 150 points ahead when he does. So I'm going to say Ireland wins the match, but Krum catches the Snitch on his own terms."

"No Seeker's going to do that," Charlie said dismissively.

"Oh really?" Hermione asked. "Beth, if we were playing Slytherin, and you had the choice between catching the Snitch and losing by ten points, or not catching the Snitch and losing by hundreds, which would you do?"

"I'd make sure Malfoy couldn't catch the Snitch," Bethany answered. "But if that wasn't an option, yeah, I'd take the smaller loss."

It wasn't until they were finishing up with some delicious home-made strawberry ice-cream that Bethany fixed Hermione with a stare and said, "It's later."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "For someone who's more cryptic than a crossword sometimes, you've certainly got something about opening up to people." She took a deep breath and told the bowl in front of her (which was somehow easier to look at than Bethany's face) everything that had happened with her father in an undertone. Even though the other Weasleys knew what had happened, they didn't know about the physical abuse, and she was hoping that the conversation around the rest of the table was loud enough to drown her out. She was helped by the twins letting off a few fireworks, which almost led to a shouting match with Molly, before Arthur calmed her down.

Bethany wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "If I ever meet him …"

"Get in line, mate," Ron muttered. "You heard from Padfoot at all?"

"Couple of times," Bethany answered. "Big birds. I wrote to him the day before yesterday, so he might write back while I'm here."

Something strange rose in the air - worry mixed with … grief? Fear?

She wasn't sure.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Bethany answered.

"It's not nothing," Hermione said.

Bethany sighed. "I'll tell you after the World Cup, okay? How did you know?"

Hermione paused, wondering how to tell them about the Empathy, when Molly got to her feet.

"Time for bed," she announced. "You'll be up early tomorrow."

Hermione jumped to her feet, glad for the distraction, and they all headed inside.

Halfway up the stairs, a hand caught her arm and pulled her to one side, and she found herself looking up at Fred, who looked very serious.

"They'll have to get in line behind me."

Hermione's heart stopped, realising that Fred had heard the conversation, and did now know exactly how her father treated her. "I …"

Fred held up a hand. "I know you didn't want to tell me. Any of us. That's why I set off the firework, to give you a bit more privacy."

Hermione relaxed a little. "So … you didn't hear all of it?"

Of course he hadn't - if he'd heard them mention Padfoot, he'd have jumped on it by now.

"I heard enough," Fred said darkly, his eyes boring into hers. "If you need anything, Mya, just tell me."

The hard note in his voice suggested that a Ton-Tongue Toffee would be the least of her father's worries.

"George!" Molly called. "Leave poor Hermione alone!"

Fred closed his eyes for a second, then plastered a smile on his face. "Not my fault she's so fun to rile up."

"George, don't make me come down there!"

Hermione leaned up and placed a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, Fred."

His expression softened again. "One day you'll tell me how you do that."

August 1994

So far, Bethany's experience of magical transportation had not been great.

Floo travel had already left her lost on Knockturn Alley once, and she had yet to stumble out of a fireplace without falling.

The Knight Bus was like she imagined a roller-coaster to be like - except roller-coasters at least had the reassurance of some kind of safety features.

(And, yes, perhaps the Knight Bus was protected by magic, but Bethany wasn't entirely sure she trusted that).

She only hoped apparition was going to be better, because she certainly did not like portkeys either, as it turned out.

At this rate, she would be flying everywhere.

It was only just past five o'clock in the morning, and she'd just hiked over a moor, held on to an old boot for five minutes, pretending she couldn't hear Amos Diggory prattling on about Quidditch, and then been forcefully thrown halfway across the country to land on her backside.

A hand appeared in her line of vision, and Bethany reached up to allow Cedric to help her to her feet.

"Thanks. Do you ever get used to those?"

"Eventually," Cedric said, smiling despite the annoyance in his eyes (which had been there since his father opened his mouth). "The trick is to remember you're not actually moving, so don't brace yourself for landing; it puts you off-balance."

Fred and George had helped Hermione and Ginny to their feet, and the two of them, and Ron, were all shooting glares at Cedric, like it was his fault his father was a pompous arse.

Or possibly because he was still holding her hand.

Bethany let go hastily, taking a step back to brush her clothes down, hoping that she wasn't actually blushing as much as it felt like she was.

Through the half-light and the mist, there were two wizards in front of them, dressed as Muggles - or at least, what they thought Muggles dressed like.

Bethany and Hermione exchanged a glance and then very pointedly avoided each other's gaze, knowing that anymore eye contact and they'd both burst into giggles.

"Morning Basil," Mr Weasley greeted.

"Morning Arthur." One of the wizards took the portkey and tossed it into a box. "Not on duty, eh? Alright for some - we've been here all night. We'd best get you out the way; got a big party coming in from the Black Forest in about fifteen minutes. Let's see …" he ran his finger down the piece of parchment in his hand. "Weasley … Weasley … Ah, here you are. About a quarter-mile's walk over there; first field you come to. Site manager's called Mr Roberts. Diggory, second field; as for Mr Payne."

Bethany followed Mr Weasley across the moor, just about able to make out hundreds and hundreds of tents beginning to loom out of the fog, rising up a gentle hill.

"Well, Arthur, this is where we leave you," Amos said cheerfully. "Unless Miss Potter wants a rematch?"

"Didn't bring my Firebolt," Bethany said coolly. "Figured it might break the Statute of Secrecy."

Cedric looked thoroughly embarrassed. "Dad, leave it. We'll have a rematch back at Hogwarts, right Beth?"

"If you're sure," Bethany said, much more warmly. "No Dementors, I might beat you this time."

"I look forward to it," Cedric said, drowning out whatever his father might have said. "Come on Dad; Mr Payne, he said. See you later, guys."

Bethany waved goodbye, as did Hermione and Ginny, while the three Weasley boys just nodded.

"Would you let it go?" Bethany asked softly, as they approached the stone cottage up ahead. "So Hufflepuff beat us; big deal."

"It should have been a forfeit," Ron grumbled.

"No, it shouldn't," Bethany said. "I fell off my broom. The rules don't make exceptions for Dementors on the pitch."

"Only because it's never happened," George said sharply.

"That is not the point," Bethany said tiredly. "Cedric tried to get a forfeit, and couldn't. Can we at least agree that's not his fault?"

The three of them grumbled something that might have been an agreement, so Bethany let it go.

Outside the stone cottage, a man was surveying the tents - he was very obviously the only real Muggle for several miles.

"Morning!" Mr Weasley said brightly. "Mr Roberts, is it?"

"Aye," the Muggle replied shortly. "And who would you be?"

"Weasley," he answered. "Two tents; booked a few days ago."

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

"That's it."

"You'll be paying now, then?"

"Ah … certainly." Mr Weasley took a few steps away, beckoning Bethany to follow him. "I need your help," he whispered. "This one is a … five?"

"A ten," Bethany said, pointing at the number. "How much do you need?"

For a second, it looked like Mr Weasley would protest, but he gave her the figure, and Bethany counted out the correct notes for him.

"You foreign?" Mr Roberts asked abruptly when they returned.

"Foreign?" Mr Weasley repeated.

Mr Roberts was watching them with narrowed eyes. "You're not the first one who's had trouble with money."

Bethany opened her mouth, trying to think up some kind of excuse that would explain that away, but he wasn't done.

"I had two try and pay me with great gold coins the size of hubcaps ten minutes ago."

Bethany shut her mouth again. There was no way to explain that away.

"Why would anyone do that?" Ginny hissed from behind her.

"Probably pureblood bigots too up themselves to realise that Muggles have their own currency," Hermione muttered back.

"Never been this crowded," Mr Roberts commented suddenly, rummaging around in a tin for some change. "Hundreds of pre-bookings. People usually just turn up."

Bethany glanced at Hermione, who was grimacing. She had thought that the fields looked unusually crowded, but then the Dursleys had never taken her camping - or indeed been camping.

"Is that right?" Mr Weasley asked, trying and failing to sound casual.

"Aye." Mr Roberts looked thoughtful, still holding the change in his hand. "Loads of foreigners. And not just foreigners. Weirdoes. There's a bloke walking around in a kilt and a poncho."

"Shouldn't he?" Mr Weasley asked anxiously.

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

Before Mr Weasley could replay, a wizard in plus-fours apparated next to them and pointed his wand and Mr Roberts's face. "Obliviate!"

The man's eyes slid out of focus and a dreamy look came over his face. "A map of the campsite for you," he said pleasantly. "And your change."

The other wizard accompanied them to the gate.

"Poor man looks exhausted," Ginny whispered.

"Been having a lot of trouble with him," he was saying to Mr Weasley. "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." He heaved a sigh. "Blimey, I'll be glad when this is over. See you later, Arthur."

When he had disapparated with a crack, Hermione hurried to catch up with Mr Weasley. "Will he be okay? Mr Roberts, I mean?"

Mr Weasley sighed heavily. "It's not good for him to have that many Memory Charms in a short period of time. But the Ministry will make sure a Healer comes out to check him over once this is all over, under other pretences of course. There's no solely wizarding areas big enough, unfortunately."

"Wouldn't it be easier to just make them go on holiday for a few weeks?" Bethany asked. "Have a wizard do it?"

"Well, it's hardly fair that he doesn't get compensated," Arthur said.

"The money could be converted to Muggle money and passed on to him," Hermione said, clearly in agreement with Bethany.

"That is a good point," Mr Weasley said. "Unfortunately, no one thought about it."

"Isn't Bagman the Head of Magical Games and Sports?" Ginny asked. "He should know better than to talk about Bludgers near Muggles, right?"

"He should," Mr Weasley agreed with a smile, opening the gate. "But Ludo's always been a bit … well … lax about security. You couldn't wish for a more enthusiastic Head of Department though. He played Quidditch for England himself, you know. And he was the best Beater the Wimbourne Wasps ever had."

"Not that there's much contest there," Ron said with a snigger.

"You support the Cannons," Bethany said with a grin. "You've got no room to talk." She missed Ron's retort, because she promptly walked straight into Hermione, who had stopped dead on the other side of the gate. "Mione!"

"Sorry." Hermione moved out of the way, not taking her eyes off of the scene in front of them.

Bethany shielded her eyes from the rising sun to try and see what had Hermione so transfixed. There were rows of tents either side of them; most of them looked like regular Muggle tents, but then she caught sight of a weather vane sticking out of the top of one of them.

A few pitches down, there was a chimney and a bell-pull.

Those could probably be explained away, but dotted here and there were tents that were so magical that it was no wonder Mr Roberts was getting suspicious.

One tent looked like a miniature palace complete with several peacocks of all things tethered outside.

Bethany gave them a wide berth - there had been no peacocks at the zoo she did go to with the Dursleys, but she had heard many hours of Dudley whining about the one that had chased him three years earlier.

Granted, that was because he had tried to pull one of its tail feathers out, but there was a nasty glint in those eyes that meant Bethany didn't trust them at all.

"Always the same," Mr Weasley chuckled. "We can't resist showing off when we get together."

"That, or half these people think that Muggle tents really do look like this," Bethany muttered.

Hermione sniggered in agreement, just as they reached their spot; a small empty space with a sign hammered into the ground that read Wheezly.

"Couldn't have a better spot," Mr Weasley said happily. "The pitch is just on the other side of that wood, so we're as close as we could be." He dropped his backpack. "Right, you lot; 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 hard … Muggles do it all the time. Here, Bethany, where do you think we should start?"

Bethany stared at the tent pieces in front of them, and turned to Hermione. "Help."

Hermione started. "Don't you know?"

"Oh, like the Dursleys ever took me anywhere," Bethany grumbled.

Hermione sighed, and picked up a few of the pieces, fitting them together to make a tent pole. "I was thinking more about Jess. Didn't you say she'd taken you away?"

Bethany nodded, holding a piece of canvas for her. "Once or twice, yeah, but we never went camping. And only when I was old enough to realise that telling the Dursleys that I had fun with Jess meant I'd never go back." She grinned. "At least until now."

Hermione winced. "Right."

"I reckon that's why Mrs Figg was such a nightmare to deal with," Bethany continued thoughtfully, pretending she hadn't seen - really, with everything Hermione had told her the night before, her father made the Dursleys look like angels.

"Speaking about Mrs Figg," Hermione said, wincing again - this time because Mr Weasley had hit his thumb with the mallet, "do you think she knows you're a witch?"

Bethany frowned. "I mean, she's never given any indication of it. Why do you ask?"

"You said her first name was Arabella, right?" Hermione asked. "Wasn't that Professor Figg's first name as well?"

She had, and it was, which was interesting.

"I mean, it's not a very common name," Bethany said slowly, "but it can't be the same person; she would have said something. And she was furious to find out I was with Aunt Petunia; there's no way she knew ahead of time."

"No," Hermione agreed. "Definitely not. And she's too young. Might be a grandmother though? They do both seem to have an affinity for cats."

"That is true," Bethany said. "I'll ask next time I write."

"Jess still having weird dreams?" Hermione asked.

"Yep." Bethany took a step back to survey the tent. "And if you thought the last warning was bad, this one's like trying to find a needle in a haystack. I'll tell you when we get back. I think we've done it."

They had, and now knowing what pieces went where, they were then able to go and help Mr Weasley set up the second.

The two shabby two-man tents certainly didn't look like they belonged to wizards, it was true, but once Charlie, Bill and Percy arrived, there would be ten of them.

Even if they split evenly - and Bethany was sure she had heard Mrs Weasley saying something about a 'girls'' tent so that probably wasn't going to happen - five people were not going to fit comfortably.

Mr Weasley dropped to his hands and knees and crawled into one of the tents. "We'll be a bit cramped," he called. "But I think we'll all squeeze in. Come and have a look."

Bethany exchanged a dubious look with Hermione, but she gamely followed Mr Weasley into the tent. As she stood up, her jaw dropped.

Instead of a tent, she was stand inside what appeared to be a fully-furnished, three-bedroom flat, complete with bathroom and kitchen. It smelled distinctly of cats, like Mrs Figg's house, but other than that, it was clean, tidy, and far more comfortable than Bethany had been expecting.

Even if seven people were going to be a squeeze.

"Well, it's not for long," Mr Weasley said cheerfully, mopping his bald patch with a handkerchief.

"Would it not make more sense for two of you to sleep in the other tent with us?" Bethany asked.

"Mum would be furious," Ron said from behind them. "She barely agreed to you sleeping in my room for the rest of the summer."

Bethany frowned. "Why?"

"She says it's 'improper'," Ron said, rolling her eyes.

"It is improper," Mr Weasley said, a little chidingly. "I could act as chaperone, of course, but then I'd be leaving the twins to their own devices, and that's probably not a good idea."

"Honestly, it's like no one trusts us," Fred complained, poking about in the kitchen.

Bethany decided not to comment on the fact that Mrs Weasley had summoned about fifty 'Ton-Tongue Toffees' out of the twins' pockets that morning.

Mr Weasley also chose not to comment, peering inside the kettle. "We'll need water."

"There's a tap marked on this map the Muggle gave us," Ron said.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "He had a name, Ron."

Ron ignored her. "It's on the other side of the field."

"Why don't you, Bethany and Hermione go and get us some water then?" Mr Weasley suggested, handing him the kettle and passing two saucepans to Hermione and Bethany. "And the rest of us will get some wood for a fire."

"But we've got an oven!" Ron protested. "Why can't we just …?"

"Ron, anti-Muggle security," Mr Weasley interrupted. "When real Muggles camp, they cook on fires outdoors; I've seen them at it!"

While that was certainly true, Bethany was also fairly sure that Mr Weasley was just as eager to camp in the Muggle way, security or not.

Hermione clearly agreed, if the fond look on her face was any indication. "Come on," she said. "Let's see if Ginny wants to come with us."

They ducked into the girls' tent, which was decorated in the same way though, thankfully, without the smell of cats.

Ginny was stowing her backpack away, completely at ease with her surroundings, in one of the rooms with bunkbeds and a single bed. "I was thinking we could just all share," she said. "Who wants the bottom bunk and who wants the top?"

Bethany grinned. "I'll take the top. Mione's scared of heights."

"Not that scared," Hermione said, swatting her arm lightly. "But I prefer the bottom bunk anyway, so that's fine with me. We're going to get some water, Ginny; you coming with us?"

Ginny shrugged. "Yeah, alright then."

They set off across the campsite. By now the sun had risen and the mist had lifted, and they could see clearly the tents that stretched in every direction.

People were beginning to rise, emerging from their tents messy-haired and bleary-eyed, chatter beginning to fill the air around them, different accents and languages swirling together.

Bethany had never given much thought to witches and wizards in other countries - but it made sense that they must exist.

She wondered what their magical communities looked like - she had never seen foreign wixen in Diagon Alley, or Hogsmeade, or Hogwarts, so it made sense that they had their own towns and schools and Ministries.

Diagon Alley was hidden behind a pub in London. She wondered if there was some hidden doorway in Paris or Madrid that only wixen could see.

Most of the people emerging from their tents seemed to be families with small children. A tiny boy, no older than three, was crouched next to a tent prodding a slug, which was slowly swelling to the size of a salami, with a wand.

As they reached him, his mother rushed out, snatching the wand back and scolding him, before inadvertently stepping on the slug, which burst, making the little boy wail in disappointment.

A little further on, they came across two witches, barely older than the little boy, riding toy broomsticks just high enough for their toes to skim the grass.

A Ministry wizard rushed past them muttering something about broad daylight and irresponsible parents.

Would her childhood have looked like that, Bethany wondered.

Would her mother have scolded her for stealing her father's wand?

Did she have a toy broom that she rode around the house and garden?

Would they have brought her camping to watch the World Cup?

If they had, they probably would have done a better job of blending in - her mother was Muggle-born, so would hardly make the mistakes many of these wizards were making.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice from behind them.

"Beth!"