Of the Fair and Fatal Fun
Victoire was late, and she hated being late.
The fair was entirely muggle, and packed. She wondered how she was supposed to find Teddy in this colourful, chaotic, noisy mess without magic. In the absence of ideas, she ducked between a hook-a-duck stall and a hoop-throwing game under the pretence of tying her shoelace, and whispered a hurried point me!
Shortly afterwards, she spotted turquoise hair. It couldn’t be anyone else, surely?
She took a deep breath and yelled, “Teddy!” as loudly as she could. Many heads turned, including the turquoise one.
“There you are!” He called. “I waited at the entrance for you, but once it got past our planned time, I came in to see if you’d already arrived… are you okay?”
“Fine,” she said. “Just late. Sorry.”
He smiled. “No worries,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on her head. “There are people in, like, historical outfits over there. Red ones, with feathers - and there are horses.”
“Yeah, there was a pageant advertised,” Victoire recalled. “I can’t remember which battle they’re recreating though.”
“Want to watch?”
“Sure,” Victoire agreed easily. “Too many kids around here anyway.”
Teddy laughed and held out his arm. Victoire looped hers through it and followed him towards the roped-off area. Sure enough, horses snorted and stamped on the other side of it, and beyond that, hundreds of people bore old-fashioned arms and scarlet coats, and two banners had been unfurled at opposite ends of the arena.
“The look is kind of ruined by the modern-day helmets,” Teddy commented. “Even with the feathers.”
Victoire laughed. “If it keeps them safe, it’s no bad thing.”
“But they’re running at each other with swords!”
“They’ll be blunt, idiot,” she said fondly.
“Oh, right, yeah.” Teddy looked abashed. “Makes sense.”
A bugle sounded. Some stragglers mounted their horses, and the air was abruptly full of battle cries, trumpet sounds, and thundering hooves.
“God, I had no idea they looked so powerful up close,” Victoire muttered. “How terrifying would this have been when it was a real battle?”
“Yeah,” Teddy agreed, not taking his eyes off the action. “I was expecting some rides and to win you a teddy bear, but this is… wow.”
There was a clashing of metal on metal, and they watched an obviously-rehearsed battle between the two generals, which was no less impressive for its choreography.
“Can you imagine living through this?” Teddy asked quietly.
“No, but I can imagine dying in it,” Victoire said, watching as another actor slid elegantly from his horse, gripping a blunt sword between his arm and his ribcage, and crumpled onto the ground with uncanny stillness.
“Yeah, that too. Uncle Harry and your parents and everyone… they lived through this. My parents died in this.”
“Fewer horses, fewer swords,” Victoire said, trying for levity.
“But sharp spells, and faster casting from further away,” he contended heavily.
Victoire squeezed his arm and laid her head on his shoulder. “We don’t have to stay,” she said quietly.
A muffled scream broke the continued sounds of fighting, and was initially paid no heed. Then it came again, and a couple of the actors faltered. And then it came again, and the bugler fell silent.
“Oh, no,” Victoire murmured. “Something’s wrong.”
War had claimed a casualty.