Tragedy avoided

Cedric offered to read next, hoping if he did or said anything to embarrass himself in this chapter, he could at least read through it quickly. He knew himself well enough to know he would have sought Harri out after his father had humiliated him to, at the very least, apologise.

Harri disentangled herself from Ron and got to her 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, the other a thick roll of parchment and a quill. Both were dressed as Muggles, though very inexpertly: The man with the watch wore a tweed suit with thigh-length galoshes; his colleague, a kilt and a poncho.

“They sound like a real riot,” Fred snickered just to be a nuisance and interrupt. While he knew Harri could be friends with whomever she pleased, it didn’t mean he had to like her budding friendship with Cedric Diggory. While he would never tell Harri who she could or couldn’t be friends with, even if they did decide to pursue a relationship, he didn’t have to like the bloke.

A man was standing in the doorway, looking out at the tents. Harri knew at a glance that this was the only real Muggle for several acres. When she heard their footsteps, she turned her head to look at them.

“I don’t understand why you’ve gone through all this trouble for secrecy and still have a muggle on the grounds,” Harri commented, genuinely confused. Could they not have had a Ministry worker do this? Surely through the use of magic, they could have convinced the Muggle he was needed elsewhere that day.

“The owner of the plot of land is Muggle. It’s only right they’re paid for us using it,” Madam Bones explained.

“Ah - right - certainly -” said Mr. Weasley. He retreated a short distance from the cottage and beckoned Harri toward him. “Help me, Harri ,” he muttered, pulling a roll of Muggle money from his pocket and starting to peel the notes apart. “This one’s a - a - a ten? Ah yes, I see the little number on it now...So this is a five?”

“Isn’t that something you should have figured out before we got there?” Hermione questioned, a little annoyed at Mr. Weasley’s lack of planning.

“I suppose you’re right,” Arthur chuckled, “Good thing it hasn’t happened yet, right?”

Fred held his hand out as Arthur fished a knut out.

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

“I still think a Wizard should be doing this, and then the money given to the correct people after the match,” Harri grumbled, not at all happy with Madam Bones’s explanation.

The wizard in plus-fours 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.”

“That can’t be healthy for his mind,” Hermione cried in outrage. “Harri’s right. There has to be a better way to do that.”

“If the spell is done right, there should be no issues with his mind. He’d just feel a little fuzzy for a couple of days,” Madam Bones explained as if that was supposed to make it any better.

Hermione still didn’t like them repeatedly wiping the poor man’s mind.

“I thought Mr. Bagman was Head of Magical Games and Sports,” said Ginny, looking surprised. “He should know better than to talk about Bludgers near Muggles, shouldn’t he?”

“Ludo doesn’t have two brain cells to rub together. He thinks he’s above the law,” Sirius snorted in disgust.

Halfway up the field stood an extravagant confection of striped silk like a miniature palace, with several live peacocks tethered at the entrance. A little farther on they passed a tent that had three floors and several turrets; and a short way beyond that was a tent that had a front garden attached, complete with birdbath, sundial, and fountain.

“Always the same,” said Mr. Weasley, smiling. “We can’t resist showing off when we get together. Ah, here we are, look, this is us.”

“Every year,” Madam Bones sighed exasperatedly. “We spend months and every resource we have available to keep our secrecy, and every year we are ignored so witches and wizards can show each other up. I don’t know why we even bother.”

“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, Harri , where do you reckon we should start?”

“Why would I know?” Harri questioned, genuinely confused. What about her screamed she went camping on the weekends?

“Did you not plan any of this out?” Hermione huffed a little put-off. How does one simply not plan out every detail for a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity? This was an event people were going to be talking about for ages. Even though she did not care for Quidditch the way Ron and Harri did, she was still excited to experience this with them.

Arthur could only chuckle at Hermione’s annoyance. Sure he could have found muggle books on all of this and figured it all out himself, but that would have defeated the purpose. Harri seemed to genuinely enjoy answering his questions about muggle items and helping. After seeing how Harri’s relatives treated her, he was sure his book counterpart was trying to make Harri feel better by being needed. He wasn’t going to apologise for attempting to make Harri feel as if he wanted her around and valued her opinion.

Narcissa hated to agree with the Muggle-Born on anything, but she had to agree the lack of planning was atrocious. She suspected Weasley had done so on purpose. The man had more than enough resources to pull from due to his job and the Ministry in order to have this all planned out. There was no need for him to ask Potter for help at every step, unless he was using the opportunity to subtly endear the girl to him. Why the manipulations on Arthur's part would be minimum Narcissa had to approve, for she could see how it would work. What better way to get closer to a skittish child than to make yourself seem harmless and completely inept at skills even they could figure out?

Harri had never been camping in her life; the Dursleys had never taken her on any kind of holiday, preferring to leave her with Mrs. Figg, an old neighbour. However, she and Hermione worked out where most of the poles and pegs should go, and though Mr. Weasley was more of a hindrance than a help, because he got thoroughly overexcited when it came to using the mallet, they finally managed to erect a pair of shabby two-man tents.

Arthur smiled sheepishly at the children. He was sure he hadn’t meant to be unhelpful or get in their way. He couldn’t help how excited learning about how muggles did things made him. They were truly fascinating. They had come so far without the help of magic that it was marvellous.

All of them stood back to admire their handiwork. Nobody looking at these tents would guess they belonged to wizards, Harri thought, but the trouble was that once Bill, Charlie, and Percy arrived, they would be a party of ten. Hermione seemed to have spotted this problem too; she gave Harri a quizzical look as Mr. Weasley dropped to his hands and knees and entered the first tent.

“How are we all supposed to fit in that?” Hermione questioned, her eyebrows shooting up in shock. This was just too far. How do you not plan far enough for everyone to have a place to sleep at the very least?

“Magic,” Ron retorted as he rolled his eyes. Honestly, he would have thought Hermione would have figured out by now they were, well, magic. “My guess is the inside had been expanded through charms.”

Hermione flushed as she sent a nasty look toward Ron. He didn’t have to be rude about it.

Harri bent down, ducked under the tent flap, and felt her jaw drop. She had walked into what looked like an old-fashioned, three room flat, complete with bathroom and kitchen. Oddly enough, it was furnished in exactly the same sort of style as Mrs. Figg’s house: There were crocheted covers on the mismatched chairs and a strong smell of cats.

“That’s honestly really cool,” Harri commented in awe. She doubted she would ever get used to everything magic could do. It was as if she would have to spend the rest of her life letting her brain catch up to the wonder that was magic.

“Ron, anti-Muggle security!” said Mr. Weasley, his face shining with anticipation. “When real Muggles camp, they cook on fires outdoors. I’ve seen them at it!”

Harri smiled fondly at Arthur and, not for the first time, wondering what it would have been like to be raised by the man. She doubted there would ever be a dull moment with the man. She wondered if he would like to go camping for real one day with muggle tents. She was sure she could find some books about camping for Arthur in Muggle London. Maybe they could go this summer.

A short way farther on, they saw two little witches, barely older than Kevin, who were riding toy broomsticks that rose only high enough for the girls’ toes to skim the dewy grass. A Ministry wizard had already spotted them; as he hurried past Harri , Ron, and Hermione he muttered distractedly, “In broad daylight! Parents having a lie-in, I suppose -”

“Happens every Cup,” Fudge complained loudly. He hated the paperwork that went into organising such an event, only for people to ignore the effort it took. They could have left the children at home. What real enjoyment would children that young really get at the game?

“Ah, why shouldn’t we show our colours?” said Mrs. Finnigan. “You should see what the Bulgarians have got dangling all over their tents. You’ll be supporting Ireland, of course?” she added, eyeing Harri , Ron, and Hermione beadily. When they had assured her that they were indeed supporting Ireland, they set off again, though, as Ron said, “Like we’d say anything else surrounded by that lot.”

“Hey,” Seamus protested, “we aren’t that bad. We still would have been civil.”

“Sure,” Ron scoffed in disbelief. He had seen Seamus get plenty heated over his teams before. He knew better.

The tents here had not been bedecked with plant life, but each and every one of them had the same poster attached to it, a poster of a very surly face with heavy black eyebrows. The picture was, of course, moving, but all it did was blink and scowl.

“Krum,” said Ron quietly.

Harri sent Krum a supportive smile when she saw him shift uncomfortably in his seat. It seemed he wasn’t too keen to have his face plastered everywhere. She could relate to that. She was sure if her face was ever plastered all over posters like that, she’d die of embarrassment. She resolved to avoid any more pictures just in case.

“What?” said Hermione.

“Krum!” said Ron. “Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker!”

“He looks really grumpy,” said Hermione, looking around at the many Krum’s blinking and scowling at them.

Krum raised an amused brow at Hermione before asking, “Do I, now?”

“I… It’s just… Well, you could have!” Hermione stammered out, flustered. “I can’t be blamed for something I haven’t even said yet.”

“Knut,” Fred demanded delightedly, his hand held out expectantly.

Hermione grumbled as she paid up.

Harri personally had to agree with Hermione, for Krum did look rather grumpy when he wasn’t actively speaking to someone.

“‘Really grumpy?” Ron raised his eyes to the heavens. “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.”

Ron flushed as this was read. It was one thing to be a fanboy when the person you admire would never hear anything you ever said, but to have Krum hear him gush about him was mortifying.

“Muggle women wear them, Archie, not the men, they wear these,” said the Ministry wizard, and he brandished the pinstriped trousers.

“I’m not putting them on,” said old Archie in indignation. “I like a healthy breeze ’round my privates, thanks.”

Laughter erupted through the room as Cedric read this. It took several seconds for everyone to calm down enough for him to continue.

On their way back, they were stopped by Cedric Diggory. After much protest from Ron about them needing to get back, Harri left her bucket of water with Ron and Hermione and followed Cedric a little bit away so they could talk.

“How gracious of you to deem me worthy of conversation,” Harri teased as soon as they were out of earshot, delighted in how Cedric’s face turned cherry red. “Here I thought, with your skills on a broom, I wouldn’t even register on your radar of people to talk to. You know, since you beat the great “Harriet Potter,” Harri used finger quotations to really drive the point home, “I figure you had bigger and better things to do.”

Cedric groaned internally. While he knew whatever sarcastic remarks Harri aimed his way was deserved, he felt pity for what his book counterpart was going to have to deal with for who knew how long.

Cedric seemed to turn an even brighter shade of red as he rushed out in what appeared to be a panic, “I’m sorry! I didn’t know he was going to say any of that! I understand if you’re mad, but just give me a chance to make it up to you, please. I really don’t want our friendship to end over my dad’s thoughtless comments.”

“Whoa,” Harri exclaimed, reaching out to place a comforting hand on Cedric’s arm. “Clam down. I was only teasing. I’m not mad, not really. A little sore over the flying comment, but I wouldn’t blame you for something your dad said.”

Cedric seemed to relax immediately, the worried expression on his face melting away as a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Really,” he asked in relief, colouring his tone.

“Really,” Harri assured him as she let her hand fall away from his arm.

“Can we just forget it ever happened?” Ceric asked next, hopefully.

“Oh no,” Harri shot down quickly, “How are we ever supposed to forget you’ve beaten the great Harriet Potter? I’d hate to take such a thrilling story away from your grandchildren.”

“Imagine your father thinking your greatest achievement will be beating a young girl on a broom,” Fred added snidely.

“Better than beating a young girl with a broom,” George snickered.

Amos flushed in embarrassment, and only his wife’s hand on his arm stopped him from snarling something at the twins. 

“Yeah, why would I ever deny them such a bedtime story?” Harri grinned mischievously, liking where this was going. She ignored the twins ’ snide comments. Serves him right for lying in the first place. She ignored the small part of her that was jealous her book-self could be so carefree around Cedric. They weren’t there in their friendship just yet. While they were growing closer, they were still pretty awkward around each other at times. Hearing how their friendship would have developed naturally without this room was weird. While she was confident their friendship would develop to that point, without her book counterpart’s eagerness to tease Cedric, Harri doubted she would have. She wouldn’t have been sure they were close enough for such comments. Though Cedric seemed to be taking them well, if not a little embarrassed.

Cedric shot her a look of betrayal but otherwise ignored her as he continued to read the book hiding his face, though Harri could see the tips of his ears had turned red.

“You’re the worst, I hope you know that,” Cedric groaned though he wasn’t fooling Harri; she could see the smile he tried to fight off. “ I still want to make it up to you, despite your unwillingness to spare my pride.”

Cedric sent her his best-kicked puppy impression, but Harri stood strong despite how utterly adorable it was. The prospect of being able to unnerve Cedric far outweighed the want to give in.

“And how are you going to do that?” She inquired with a smile tugging at her lips, “Going to fly your way back into my good graces?”

“You’re going to be a nightmare about this now, aren’t you?” Cedric asked, peeking over the book at her.

“You bet,” Harri agreed, grinning widely.

“You’re insufferable,” Cedric complained with no real heat, “I thought we could have a friendly Seekers game when we got to Hogwarts. Have a fair match this time. It’d be fun, and we can finally see who the better Seeker is without the whole school watching or interfering.”

Harri pretended to think it over as she watched Cedric shift nervously in front of her. She liked the idea. She would get to spend time with Cedric, who she was hardly going to see throughout the school year due to them being in different houses and years, and they’d be doing something she loved. While she didn’t think he needed to make anything up to her, she wasn’t about to turn down the opportunity to fly.

“Deal.”

“Pay up,” Tonks exclaimed, holding her hand out expectantly towards Kingsly. “That’s definitely a date.”

“It is not,” Kingsley denied with a shake of his head.“The boy asked for a competition, not a date.”

“It’s so a date,” Tonks insisted, her eyes narrowing. “You just don’t want to pay.”

“What?” Harri exclaimed, completely confused. “What did you guys bet on?”

It sounded as if they had bet Cedric would ask her on a date, and that couldn’t be right. They were just friends; he didn’t like her in a romantic sense. He had so many better options. He was Quidditch Captain, a perfect, and one of the most popular boys at school while she was just Harri. He could date anyone he wanted. There was no way he would ever look her way. Hell, the fact Fred was interested in her was a mystery. Both boys could do far better than someone whose only talent was on a broom.

“That Diggory would ask you out this book,” Tonks announced unabashedly. “Which he clearly just did.”

“You don’t get to bet on my life that way,” Harri snapped angrily, her face burning in embarrassment and rage. “And he wasn’t asking me out on a date, And every time we talk isn’t us flirting. I don’t know what is happening in your head, but it needs to stop. It’s making me uncomfortable, and our lives aren’t some game.”

Cedric hid his wince behind the book as Harri shot down the idea of them ever dating with such venom. While he didn’t like the idea of them betting on how his and Harri’s relationship would progress, he didn’t think the idea of them dating would have upset Harri so much. He had to admit it hurt to hear her despise the very idea that more could be between them.

“We’ve sorry,” Kingsley apologized, shooting Tonks a look that clearly said this was her fault. “We didn’t mean to upset you or make you uncomfortable.”

“How else was I supposed to take the two of you trying to profit off this gross invasion of my privacy? I’ve agreed to these readings because it’s supposed to help all of us and you’ve gone and made my life some game to make a bit of money on. I have to sit here while every single one of my most private thoughts are read out loud for you all to judge and comment on. That's bad enough I don’t need you two betting on my life on top of it all. No one’s allowed to bet on my life as a matter of fact. I won’t continue these readings if I hear any more bets have been made about me or others.”

Tonks and Kingsley both looked away guiltily from the fuming girl. They had not meant to upset her. They hadn’t thought about how she would feel when they had made the silly bet, they were just trying to pass the time. While learning about the happenings in Hogwarts was interesting they didn’t really have much to do with Harri or her story so far. 

Harri glowered at the both of them. This wasn’t at all appropriate. It honestly felt as if they had betrayed the sacrifices she had made by allowing these books to be read. She had trusted the adults would use the information they learned for the greater good, not this. Why was she enduring any of this if all they were interested in was making a fool of her?

“‘Spect they go to some foreign school,” said Ron. “I know there are others. Never met anyone who went to one, though. Bill had a penfriend at a school in Brazil...this was years and years ago...and he wanted to go on an exchange trip, but Mum and Dad couldn’t afford it. His penfriend got all offended when he said he wasn’t going and sent him a cursed hat. It made his ears shrivel up.”

Bill shivered at the reminder, though what he failed to inform anyone was the romantic interests he shared with said penpal. He was just as disappointed he couldn’t go as they were.

Harri was reminded how little about the magical world she knew. She vowed she was going to change that.

Mr. Weasley kept up a running commentary, mainly for Harri’s and Hermione’s benefit; his own children knew too much about the Ministry to be greatly interested.

“That was Cuthbert Mockridge, Head of the Goblin Liaison Office....Here comes Gilbert Wimple; he’s with the Committee on Experimental Charms; he’s had those horns for a while now...Hello, Arnie...Arnold Peasegood, he’s an Obliviator - member of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, you know...and that’s Bode and Croaker... they’re Unspeakables....”

Harri couldn’t fathom how she could possibly appreciate Arthur anymore than she already did, but here she was. She was never going to get over how included he tried to make her feel. Jealousy for Ron swelled in her chest, and Harri had to fight it back. She pushed away the thoughts that whispered she would have appreciated parents like his. She wouldn’t have cared if they were poor, or if she had six siblings, she never would have complained. It wasn’t fair. She shoved at the resentment that threatened to boil over. What she wouldn’t have done to trade places with him. The things she would do for just a fraction of the love he received just for existing. He was wanted for just being himself, not because of misplaced guilt or duty. He would never have to worry about not having a home. So what if Molly forgot his favourite colour or the food he disliked? Harri wouldn’t have cared. She would have been grateful for what was given.

Percy hurried forward with his hand outstretched. Apparently his disapproval of the way Ludo Bagman ran his department did not prevent him from wanting to make a good impression.

“There’s nothing wrong with being polite,” Percy bristled at Harri. “Even if I don’t agree with how he does things, that doesn’t mean I have to antagonise him.”

Bagman did the smallest of double takes when he heard Harri’s name, and his eyes performed the familiar flick upward to the scar on Harri’s forehead.

“Told you everyone does it,” Harri grinned at Krum, remembering their bet.

“So you did.”

“Oh...go on then,” said Mr. Weasley. “Let’s see...a Galleon on Ireland to win?”

Molly pressed her lips together. They needed every Galleon they could spare, and Arthur was gambling it away there. He was also setting a terrible example for their children. They would be having words.

“We’ll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts,” said Fred as he and George quickly pooled all their money, “that Ireland wins - but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch. Oh and we’ll throw in a fake wand.”

“Boys,” Molly snapped as she turned her attention to them. “You are too young to be gambling. You don’t need to be wasting your money on such things.”

“Dad did it,” Fred retorted unapologetically.

“And I will speak to him about that later,” Molly promised. “As it is now, we’re talking about you, and I forbid you to gamble.”

“You don’t want to go showing Mr. Bagman rubbish like that,” Percy hissed.

“They’re not rubbish,” Fred snarled furiously. “Just because it doesn’t fit what Perfect Percy thinks is proper doesn’t mean it’s rubbish.”

“Who made you all know anyway?” George added, just as angry. “He can decide for himself if he wants to see our product.”

…but Bagman didn’t seem to think the wand was rubbish at all; on the contrary, his boyish face shone with excitement as he took it from Fred, and when the wand gave a loud squawk and turned into a rubber chicken, Bagman roared with laughter.

“Ha,” Geroge proclaimed gleefully, “He liked it.”

“Looks like someone shouldn’t speak for other people,” Fred snickered as he thought about ways to mess with Percy later. He was just as bad as their mother.

“Cheers,” said George, taking the slip of parchment Bagman handed him and tucking it away into the front of his robes. Bagman turned most cheerfully back to Mr. Weasley.

“You’re the parent,” Molly hissed to her husband. “You should have stopped them.”

“It’s their money,” Arthur countered, “They’re both almost legally adults. While I disagree with them betting their entire savings, I think it’s a lesson they need to learn for themselves.”

A wizard had just Apparated at their fireside, and he could not have made more of a contrast with Ludo Bagman, sprawled on the grass in his old Wasp robes. Barty Crouch was a stiff, upright, elderly man, dressed in an impeccably crisp suit and tie. The parting in his short gray hair was almost unnaturally straight, and his narrow toothbrush moustache looked as though he trimmed it using a slide rule. His shoes were very highly polished. Harri could see at once why Percy idolised him. Percy was a great believer in rigidly following rules, and Mr. Crouch had complied with the rule about Muggle dressing so thoroughly that he could have passed for a bank manager; Harri doubted even Uncle Vernon would have spotted him for what he really was.

Percy didn’t think there was anything wrong with looking up to a successful wizard who, from the sounds of it, cared about his job and following the rules. He was looking forward to working under such a man, as a matter of fact. It would be nice to be around a like-minded individual.

“Mr. Crouch!” said Percy breathlessly, sunk into a kind of halfbow that made him look like a hunchback. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Oh,” said Mr. Crouch, looking over at Percy in mild surprise. “Yes - thank you, Weatherby.”

“Weatherby,” Fred roared, clutching George to stay upright as Percy flushed. Oh, it was too good to be true.

“Oh details!” said Bagman, waving the word away like a cloud of midges. “They’ve signed, haven’t they? They’ve agreed, haven’t they? I bet you anything these kids’ll know soon enough anyway. I mean, it’s happening at Hogwarts -”

“What is it already!” Hermione demanded to know. “The book has been teasing about this event for ages now.”

“In due time,” Dumbledore waved away her demand, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Been saving my pocket money all summer for this,” Ron told Harri as they and Hermione strolled through the salesmen, buying souvenirs. Though Ron purchased a dancing shamrock hat and a large green rosette, he also bought a small figure of Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker. The miniature Krum walked backward and forward over Ron’s hand, scowling up at the green rosette above him.

“Tell us how you really feel about Krum,” Fred snickered as Ron shrank in his seat.

“Lay off,” Ron retorted, “I’m allowed to have a favourite player.”

“Wish I hadn’t bought this now,” said Ron, gesturing at his dancing shamrock hat and gazing longingly at the Omnioculars.

“Three pairs,” said Harri firmly to the wizard.

“No - don’t bother,” said Ron, going red. He was always touchy about the fact that Harri , who had inherited a small fortune from her parents, had much more money than he did.

“You won’t be getting anything for Christmas,” Harri told him, thrusting Omnioculars into his and Hermione’s hands. “For about ten years, mind.”

“The things I have to teach you, Harri,” Sirius sighed dramatically as he threw his arm around Remus. “That is not how you give a gift to an unwilling recipient. You shove the gift at them, then pretend to go deaf. When you have as much money as we do, people tend to want to refuse the extravagant things you can afford. When that happens, you must prevail. Eventually, you wear them down. Just ask Remus here.”

“Don’t listen to a word he says,” Remus denied shoving Sirius off of him. “You don’t want to make your friends uncomfortable with gifts that cost more than anything they could ever get you in return.”

“Don’t be such a spoilsport,” Sirius pouted playfully. “It’s our money, and we don’t expect anything back. We just want to do something nice for the people we care about. Isn’t that right, Harri?”

Harri looked between the two of them and decided this was not a topic she was going to touch with a ten-foot pole. She wisely chose to keep her mouth shut, for this issue seemed to have stemmed from well into their childhoods.

“It’s time!” said Mr. Weasley, looking as excited as any of them. “Come on, let’s go!”

“Who wants to read next?”