Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
ONE – Breakfast and the World Cup
"Harry! Ron! Wake up, we're going to be late." Hermione's voice called through the old door, stirring them from their sleep.
Harry wiped his hand across his face and rubbed at his eyes. "What time is it?" he yawned, turning to face Ron's bed. He could barely make out anything without his glasses, and the remnants of sleep further marring his vision.
"Sun ain't up yet, is it Harry?"
He tugged the curtain aside, preparing himself to be struck by a beam of sunlight which never came. "No, still dark out…"
Ron groaned and pulled his blanket higher, covering his head until all that stuck out was a tuff of Weasley red hair. "Too early… is what time it is."
"Come ON you two! Don't make me come in there!"
"We're up!" replied Harry loudly, his throat felt scratchy with morning thirst.
Harry sat up and stretched before putting on his glasses. The regular rise and fall of Ron's form as he breathed meant his friend had fallen asleep again, so he tossed a pillow at him. "Come on, there won't be time for breakfast if we don't get moving."
Mrs. Weasley's voice sounded out over the breakfast bustle. There was a strength to the portly woman that saw her orders cut through the noise of several Weasley's in a small space.
"Ginny don't forget your sweater!"
'Fred! George! You will not be taking any of those infernal things with you!"
Harry spotted Hermione sitting at the large table, a cup of coffee in one hand, and what looked to be a Quidditch World Cup pamphlet held open in the other. She appeared remarkably relaxed and content, it was an odd sight in the Burrow's chaos. It actually impressed him.
The pair made their way to Hermione, narrowly avoiding Mrs. Weasley's commotion. Harry grabbed the open seat beside her while Ron sat himself across from them, already with a plate in hand.
"Good morning, Harry, Excited? I've been reading this", said the bookworm, much too cheerfully for the hour.
"Good morning, yourself," He greeted her back with a small chuckle, all while reaching around the table to fill his plate, he dropped back down into his chair with a huff, ready to get started on his substantial serving of eggs, bacon, toast and a plump breakfast sausage.
Harry picked up his knife and fork before noticing his empty cup. Before he could fill it himself, a tea pot floated over and poured him some tea. He looked up the table and saw Mrs. Weasley with her wand in hand, he yelled out his thanks, to which she just smiled and waved it off.
The exchange didn't take very long, and Hermione waited patiently for him to settle down. "Can I see that?" asked Harry.
"Sure," she handed him the pamphlet that had so deeply held her attention. He gave it a once over. It was adorned with little quidditch players flying around, the title read, "Quidditch World Cup Highlights Through the Ages". A little footnote indicated it as a limited promotional offshoot of "Quidditch Through the Ages."
He took a small sip of his steaming hot cup of tea before frowning and adding three sugars, another sip later, he smiled. Hermione watched it all amusedly. "That's a lot of sugar," she commented with a small laugh.
"It's the right amount of sugar," he replied matter of factly, while he skimmed through the pamphlet.
She rolled her eyes, with a grin tugging at lips meant she wasn't annoyed. "Did you know that the closest clutch win in a world cup happened when one of Spain's beaters accidentally crashed into their own chaser? She'd fallen from her broom and collided with their keeper. The accident had left their hoops open for Argentina to score just seconds before Spain's seeker managed to catch the snitch. It cost them the game by ten points." She spoken with more enthusiasm than he'd ever heard from her when Quidditch was the topic of conversation.
"I did not, what was the final score?" He answered her, genuinely interested.
"320 – 310"
They both turned towards Ron, his mouth stuffed and his fork halfway through bringing even more food.
"Wha-? It's Quidditch, 'course I know."
"Swallow your food before speaking Ron!" scolded Hermione.
Harry watched the usual mealtime entertainment unfold. They'd done it so many times that he'd learnt to just ignore it when it happened. It was almost an endearing part of their friendship.
He turned to his right, leaving Ron and Hermione to bicker over table etiquette. The third oldest Weasley sibling was peacefully ignoring everything around him while reading the Daily Prophet. It was remarkably similar to the way Hermione had been sitting.
"Morning Percy, how's work at the ministry going?" he inquired of the Weasley white sheep, who startled slightly at being disturbed.
Pleasantly surprised that someone seemed interested in his work. Percy responded eagerly.
"Brilliant! Mr. Crouch is a taskmaster, it's staggering how much I could learn from him," he paused sheepishly. "Though he hasn't really trusted me with anything too important, I'm afraid I've yet to impress him…"
While Harry quickly determined that it did not sound like something he would enjoy, he was glad that Percy had found employment in a field that clearly suited him.
"I'm sure it won't be long until your boss notices how hard you've been working."
Percy sipped a tall glass of juice to wet his palate before responding. "Thanks, tell me, you wouldn't happen to be planning on entering the ministry after Hogwart's?"
"I can't say," shrugged Harry. "To be entirely honest, I've never really given it much thought."
Harry furrowed his brow. "Uhm Percy, if we chose our electives at the beginning of third year, but only get our career advice consultations during OWLS year. What happens if the career we decide on needs, say, ancient runes, and we haven't got that subject?"
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Hermione listening in on them. The topic of academics having likely caught her attention.
"Good question, well usually parents would often coach their kids prior to third year. So, they'd already know which to select. Though you can write your OWLS in an elective you haven't chosen, self-study is allowed. Not every kid in Britain goes to Hogwarts, it's rare, but there are some kids who're homeschooled. You could even apply to take the exams after Hogwarts, it's more common than you'd expect," explained Percy.
"Thanks," said Harry, somewhat relieved. "I wish they'd explained all of this to us before..."
Hermione opened her mouth to ask Percy a question but was interrupted by a knock on the Burrow's front door. Harry glanced at the clock, the normal one, and not the odd one with the Weasley's family's names on the hands and their locations. He blinked curiously at the time, it was barely seven am, very early for guests.
"Luna dear," Mrs. Weasley opened the door and greeted warmly. "You look lovely, come in come in, we're just finishing breakfast, but there's still plenty."
She stepped aside, revealing a short waif like platinum blonde haired girl who appeared a little younger than Harry. Her eyes were wide as if she was perpetually surprised, but the faraway look in them drew together an almost surreal contrast. She wore a summer dress with a necklace of the strangest assortment of bottle caps and vegetables? hanging from her ears.
"Are those radishes?" asked Hermione with a whisper in his ear.
He shrugged without turning his attention away from the exchange occurring at the door.
"Sorry Mrs. Weasley," said the waifish girl. Her voice had a soft and somewhat airy tone to it, like a breeze over grass. She held out a small bag. "I brought this, it's tea."
"Oh, how lovely. Won't you come inside for some breakfast?"
'Luna' shook her head before her eyes sparkled with excitement. "I'd love to, but we're going to Sweden to look for Crumple-Horned Snorkacks! Last night a man at the pub told my dad that there's this valley near Finjasjön where they'd seen one!"
Harry looked over at Hermione and mouthed 'Snorkack?'. She shrugged.
"Well, that's lovely dear, just you be sure to stay safe." They heard Mrs. Weasley say. "Give Xeno my best and thank him for the tea for me, ok?"
"I'll tell him, bye Mrs. Weasley, the tea is good for warding off nargles".
He looked at Hermione again 'Nargles?'.She shrugged once more before looking forward.
Having closed the door behind Luna, Mrs. Weasley announced that everyone ought to get ready to leave soon.
"So, Ron, who was that?" inquired Harry, curious about the strange girl.
"Hm, that's Luna, she's nice, a bit loopy though, but she lives just over the hill with her dad. Her and Ginny used to play together when we were kids."
"She's not loopy Ron, she's just different," reprimanded Ginny from nearby.
They finished up their goodbyes with Mrs. Weasley, who of course saw fit to dust off the imaginary dirt every parent seemed to find on their kid's shoulders.
"Not joining us, Percy?" asked Harry as they left, having noticed him remain seated and clearly in no hurry to stand.
"I'll be apparating directly to the campsite, saves me the walk."
"Fair enough, would you mind maybe making sure nobody left anything behind after we've left, bring it along if we did?"
"Sure thing, Harry."
Harry left Percy to his newspaper and remainder of his breakfast and hurried his pace to catch up with the group. He joined Hermione who was leading from the back.
She smiled at him and glanced back towards the Burrow questioningly.
"Percy's going to apparate," answered Harry.
After a moment's thought, he hummed thoughtfully before voicing a question.
"Do you think Professor McGonagall would allow me to drop divination and take up arithmancy instead?"
Her eyes lit up as she moved suddenly, before he could react, he found her in his face. The suddenness of it all caught him by surprise and he barely caught himself from tripping. Hermione was so close to him that he could see each and every little scattered freckle she had in her flustered face. His own cheeks warmed, whether that was because he suddenly found his eyes drawn to her pink lips, or the hint of coffee on her breath, or because of his near fall, he couldn't say.
"Yes! I'm sure she will!"
She steamrolled through his shyness with pure academic enthusiasm. "She abhors divination, I can't say I blame her, Arithmancy is a far better subject. Oh, Harry you are going to love it! I've got all my notes from last year, and I could tutor you, but what brought this on? And why arithmancy? Why not ancient runes?"
Harry blinked, gathering his thoughts and his heartrate. "One question at a time, Hermione."
Blushing she took a step back. "So, answer them."
He took a breath, resuming their walk while she fell back in step beside him. "No reason really, 'just thought about what Percy said earlier. I'm unlikely to need divination in whatever field I eventually decide on, but I might need arithmancy, or runes. I can't take both since I don't want to drop care of magical creatures. It's Hagrid's after all, and I do enjoy the class at times, and worst case and McGonagall refuses me, I might as well get started on the work if I'm going to need to do it regardless."
Hermione's smile grew the longer his answer went. "I'm really glad you're starting to think about your future."
Feeling a bit embarrassed, he chuckled. "Don't celebrate yet, you're going to regret offering all of the extra help when you find yourself without any spare time."
"Blimey you're mad Harry. Both of you," Ron's voice cut in, disbelievingly. The red head was right behind them with his face contorted in an expression of pure horror.
"You could always join us, Ron," teased Harry.
"There is no way you could get me to agree to that," said Ron firmly.
"Really? Sure, I couldn't bribe you, maybe I buy out half of the trolley on the train, like I did when we met?" taunted Harry, mischievously before quickly meeting Hermione's eyes as they observed Ron. He knew she didn't approve of absurd levels of indulgence in sugary sweets but clearly found it amusing regardless.
Ron paused before letting out a breath. "Mmmmm no, still won't do it."
Patting Ron on the back, he teased, "I don't think you've ever focused on anything that hard in your life."
"Ow! what was that for?" Harry winced, rubbing the back of his head where he'd been flicked.
"Don't be mean Harry," scolded Hermione with apparent anger. She gave him a stern look, which faltered into a laugh when he held her stare.
The group neared the top of the hill, all pretty tired after the hike. His time spent at the Dursleys had always had a mixed effect on his fitness, being worked to the extent he was, built stamina, but being underfed at the same time meant it done more harm than good to his health.
He looked around. 'Fred and George were fine, Ginny too, so and surprisingly so was Ron. The worst of all were Hermione, and Mr. Weasley who both appeared pretty winded though.
A thought came to his mind as he fixed his gaze on Hermione, who was taking deep breaths while her face was flushed. He wondered if he were to start running in the mornings at Hogwarts, if she'd be willing to join him.
He took a sip of water and handed the bottle to Hermione. She smiled thankfully and took a few sips herself before handing it back with a shy smile and a happy glint in her eyes. She's always loved how he seemed to notice when she needed something without her having to ask.
"You know," he started when he had her attention. "I heard once that fitness affects the mind. I'm thinking of running a bit some mornings, I mean Wood's gone, but I should at least try to keep up some of what he had us do. You could join me if you'd like?" He shifted his focus from her towards Ron. "You too."
Hermione was silent for a moment as she pondered before she spoke, hesitantly at first, but gaining more confidence as she went. "I think I'd like that actually... I'll have to owl my mom to send me some running shoes and sportswear. How many mornings were you thinking?
"You can send Hedwig when we're back at the Burrow. Hmm, maybe three times a week? Pick the mornings where we don't have a double class first thing."
"And you, Ron? Joining us?"
"Nah, count me out, mornings are for sleeping," responded the gangly red head, all while clearly thinking his friend has gone bonkers.
They laughed amongst themselves before noticing a bit of commotion up ahead, Harry looked up and spotted Cedric Diggory alongside a shorter, slightly pudgy man but cheerful looking man carrying a hiking stick.
"Amos!" greeted Mr. Weasley loudly.
"Arthur! How are you?" replied the man going in for a friendly handshake.
"Great, great, and yourself?"
"Couldn't be better, just got here a minute ago, meet my son Cedric." He motioned his son forward.
"Nice to meet you Mr. Weasley," said Cedric, moving in to shake Mr. Weasley's hand, clearly a bit embarrassed by his father's enthusiasm.
"You too Cedric."
"Come Amos, these are my kids, back there are the twins Fred and George, up here we have my two youngest, Ron and Ginny, and their friends Hermione Granger, and Harry Potter. My third oldest Percy has gone on ahead, didn't feel for the hike."
All of them gave a wave or a nod as their names were called out.
It was when Harry's name was called when Mr. Diggory's eyes lit up.
'Please no…' Harry sighed internally.
"Merlin's beard, Harry Potter!" exclaimed the man, pulling him and Cedric together. Shattering his hopes in the process.
"Heard you were brilliant at Quidditch, never lost a snitch, until my son here beat you to it," bragged Amos boisterously and with a smug pride.
"There was interference Dad, the Dementors..." corrected Cedric sheepishly.
"Nonsense! You didn't fall from your broom now did you, you won fair and square."
"Sorry," mouthed Cedric over his dad's shoulder apologetically.
"Thanks," Harry mouthed back, giving Cedric a nod. The older boy had at least tried, even if it was pointless. Amos Diggory was so caught up in praising Cedric to Harry's detriment that he'd either failed to notice or simply ignored the annoyance on the majority of the faces surrounding them, Fred and George's especially.
Before the twins could be tempted to try and convince the man to eat something he probably shouldn't. Mr. Weasley's voice sounded out, "Blimey, look at the time, gather around, gather around, I want you all touching the boot."
"What's so special about the boot?" asked Harry, only just noticing the ratty old leather worker's boot on the ground. It was so non-descript that he'd just ignored it for the apparent junk that it appeared to be.
"It's a portkey, isn't it?" Hermione's excitement surprised him.
"Right you are Hermione, now grab on, questions later, twenty seconds left before it goes."
"Grab on Harry!" yelled Mr. Weasley having noticed him hesitate.
His fingers closed on the boot just in time to feel a sharp tug at his navel. His world to exploded in a spinning vortex of colours while he felt like he was being spun around, it felt someone was his hand and twirling him around themselves with way too much speed. When he'd very nearly found himself getting used it, he was suddenly tossed out, landing on grass with his wind knocked out of him.
"Alright there Harry?" asked one of the Weasley twins from above, as he blocked the sky.
He caught his breath, "I'll live…"
"You know Fred, as much as I love magic. Can we get a transport method that doesn't throw you ass over head? Brooms excluded of course."
"How do you know I'm Fred?"
"It's obvious ain't it, you're the ugly twin," teased Harry with a grin.
They heard George laughing at Harry's response. "Not cool Harry, and here I came to help you."
Harry laughed. "Sorry, couldn't resist."
Fred reached out and pulled him up. "Next time I leave you on the ground, smarmy git."
It was the crackling pop of a firework and an accompanied laughter that had him finally take note of their surroundings, and his eyes went wide behind his glasses at the scene in front of him. As far as he could see, were tents and between them, more witches and wizards than he'd ever seen in one place, all dressed in the most ridiculous mix of muggle clothing imaginable. From formal pants to hoodies with cartoon prints, coats that wouldn't be out of place in an 1800's boutique accompanied by ripped denim. It was surreal.
And the colours, everywhere you looked, Irish green and Bulgarian Red as people showed their support for their favoured team. Then there was the noise, so many languages that he couldn't understand or even recognize. Between it all were kids flying around on toy brooms while, some dressed as little quidditch players.
Hawkers sold T-shirts and other souvenirs, while others sold foods. The smells carried over, making his mouth water. He laughed at a man struggling to eat what seemed to be a pretzel, it was charmed to try and avoid being eaten and was putting up quite the fight.
Harry breathed it all in. He felt the hairs on his arm stand up, whether it was the sheer energy and excitement around him or literal magic in the air, he didn't know, but he loved the feeling.
"Wow..."
"Welcome, Harry, to the Quidditch World Cup!"
Mr. Weasley walked back with Percy, carrying a small map which he held up to show them. "Percy's already sorted out the campsite for us! We'll get the tent up, and then you guys can explore, just be back at the tent by six."
They made sure they had everything and that nothing fell during their landing, before moving towards the campsite. Harry noticed the zipper on Hermione's backpack had come undone.
He closed it for her, he heard her speak. "Not very good at dressing like muggles, are they? I mean we've seen some odd outfits in Diagon Alley on occasion, but I never would have guessed the eccentricity would carry over to muggle wear."
Harry followed her line of sight and saw a man wearing what was clearly pyjama bottoms, sneakers, and a tweed jacket...
"I noticed," he chuckled. "I guess, they aren't really exposed to muggles enough to figure it out. I bet some of them are taking the mickey though."
"I'd hope so, even a blind man could tell you that those pants—" she pointed, "and the rest of the outfit clearly don't go together. There should at least be a bottom line of common sense when they decided on what to wear."
"Good point, I'm almost certain I saw someone wearing swimwear a couple of tents back. Makes you wonder, doesn't it?" said Harry, smiling at Hermione.
"Hmm, wonder what Harry?"
"Mr. Weasley looks alright, but how would the rest of the people we know dress in the muggle world… Professor Dumbledore? Flitwick? Madam Pomfrey? Would they look as ridiculous?"
Hermione laughed. "I don't know about the others Harry, but with those garish robes Professor Dumbledore fancies, it scares me to think of what he'd have worn."
An opening between the tents cleared up, Mr. Weasley came to a stop and announced it as their campsite. "Now we're supposed to be pretending to be muggles, and it sounds like a good old bit of fun to put this here tent up the muggle way."
Harry gaped, what was the point in pretending with all the magic on display all around them…
"Tell me Harry, Hermione, either of you wouldn't happen to know how to assemble one?" He asked, hopefully.
"Not really, never tried before," responded Harry, negatively as he stared at the mess of fabric and sticks that were to somehow become their sleeping place. "But I'd assume you have to anchor the ends into the ground, thread the fabric with the sticks and build the frame?"
"Close enough Harry," said Hermione. "I know how Mr. Weasley, I've been camping a few times with my parents, and I've always helped my dad set up the tent."
Despite not knowing what he was doing, Harry still offered to help. With the three of them and Hermione's instruction, they had the tent up in no time. Harry gave the tiny canvas abode an incredulous look, it was barely enough for two people, let alone all of them.
"It can't be…" he whispered, suspiciously before sticking his head inside. "It is!" He laughed, joyously. The tent was massive inside, he saw a living area, several sleeping bunks, and even a fireplace!
He returned to the outside and was about to tell Hermione to have a look when Mr. Weasley spoke.
"Now just the fire and water guys. Harry and Hermione helped with the tent, so you all can handle the rest."
They sat and chatted a bit with Mr. Weasley while they waited. Hermione had her peek and shared in his amazement. She'd mused that camping would have been a lot more comfortable growing up with one of these tents, she'd even made the intention to acquire one for herself someday, just to amaze her parents.
Once the others were back and the fire was up, there was still a few hours in the day. The group decided to spend it checking out the various stalls.
A Quidditch souvenir stall sold what appeared to be an odd telescope for ten Galleons a piece. They were certainly popular, if the amount of people he could see purchasing them was an indication.
"Bit pricy don't you think?" Harry asked, pointing at the stand.
Ron answered him. "They're omnioculars, they're like the ones we use in Astronomy class, but these can rewind what you see."
"Hmm... makes sense then," said Harry, approaching the stall.
"How can I help you there, young man?" asked the hawker. He was a skinny man with a bushy moustache and clearly an Irish supporter, if the sheer amount of green in his ensemble was an indicator.
"Three of these please," answered Harry, holding up one of the display omnioculars.
The man gave him a good-natured smile, the kind you often received from a well-mannered store owner who was about to make a sale.
"That'll be thirty galleons laddie, anything else that I can interest yer in."
Harry pointed towards a thick red and black scarf, "Hm, one of those scarves as well please."
"Two more Galleons."
The gold exchanged hands and he returned to Ron and Hermione who were checking out a Viktor Krum bobblehead which you quidditch advice in a very thick Bulgarian accent.
"That's rather creepy actually," observed Harry, as he peered over their shoulders.
"You're back, what did you get?" asked Hermione, having noticed the boxes in Harry's arms.
"Here." Harry handed them each an omniocular box.
"Harry you shouldn't have... But thank you," said Hermione with a smile.
"Wicked mate, but they're expensive…"Ron trailed off, his excitement marred by his insecurity regarding money.
"Don't worry about it, I wanted to do something nice for the two of you."
Hermione was looking down at the box when she felt something warm wrap around her neck. Seeing the scarf, she looked up at Harry questioningly.
"You looked like you were getting cold, figured you forgot to pack a scarf," he said, answering her wordless question.
"Thank you Harry, that was sweet," she smiled shyly.
"It's close enough to Gryffindor colours, that you can wear it to one of my games as well," Harry answered, happy that she liked it.
She pulled the scarf a little higher, enough so, that the bottom half of her face disappeared behind it as she looked up at him.
Her big brown eyes locked on his green, and he blushed at how cute she was.
Hermione noticed Harry staring at her, 'Is he blushing?' she thought.
Neither of them saw the slight frown on Ron's face, too caught up in their own little world.
Harry checked the old watch on his wrist, it was nothing fancy, just something Dudley had forgotten about. "It's getting late, we should find Ginny and the twins, then head back."
The pair noticed how quiet Ron's been. "Are you okay?" asked Harry, a bit worriedly.
"…Yeah, I'm good, just hungry" replied the redhead suspiciously. He was fidgeting a bit, not meeting their eyes.
"Uhm... sure, don't hold back if you're feeling ill."
"Are you sure you're alright Ron?" asked Hermione, stepping closer and looking intently at Ron.
Ron took a step back, slightly flustered.
"I'm fine guys, don't worry about me... Hungry, is all… I didn't eat enough this morning," he explained, not convincingly.
Harry looked at him, and Ron avoided his eyes.
"Let's just go find the others," said Ron, hastily, before walking off in the direction of the other stalls.
The crowd headed into the stadium was immense. There was something truly amazing about being surrounded by so many witches and wizards, all excited, it's as if they radiated magic. You could feel it in the air, like the buzz on your skin when standing beneath an electricity pylon.
Entering the stadium itself only heightened the sensation, both through the sheer crowd, and their own excitement. It left you feeling energized, more awake than you've ever felt before.
As they climbed the stairs, Harry couldn't help but wonder, for a stadium that they built from the ground up just for tonight, they couldn't incorporate some kind of enchanted elevator… It didn't help that the VIP booths were so high up, he was pulled out of his train of thought when a voice cut through from below.
"It's truly amazing that you've found yourself here Arthur." The silky, slimy voice of Lucius Malfoy was as unpleasant as it was unwelcome.
"Malfoy," responded Mr. Weasley firmly, more strength in his voice than you'd expect of the normally jovial man.
Peering over the railing, Harry caught sight of the three Malfoy's. Lucius with his sleek black robes, looking as regally pompous, Mrs. Malfoy was a stunningly beautiful woman whose face was ruined by the frown which she employed as she stared at them. Between them was Draco, who surprised Harry with his silence. It was a rare day that the other teen missed an opportunity to take a shot at them. Paying closer attention, he realized Draco was distractedly staring at something, following his gaze, he corrected himself, it was someone.
'Ginny?'
He was snapped out of that train of thought by a particularly snide remark from the older of the Malfoy males.
"Did you have to sell that hovel you call a home to afford the tickets?" sneered the man, eyeing them all with disgust. "And Potter, I see you truly do take after your father, associating with filth."
"We've got a very different opinion on filth Mr. Malfoy, you can polish a diamond and make it shine, but as much as you shine a turd, it's still shit, and I can smell it from here," replied Harry, shocking everyone with his gall.
"You'll do well to respect your betters Potter, wouldn't do too well six feet under," said Lucius coldly.
"Respect is earned Mr. Malfoy," answered Harry, squaring his shoulders. He was too focused on Lucius, to notice the impressed light in Mrs. Malfoy's eyes.
Lucius held Harry's stare for several moments with no words passing between any of them. He was forced to break contact by his wife, who'd had enough of this nonsense and forced him along. "Come Draco," Her voice was soft, but demanded attention. "We shouldn't dirty ourselves any longer."
They pushed through, heading into the minister's booth.
Harry turned back, seeing everyone staring at him, before Fred spoke up. "That was wicked Harry." The other's all agreed as they echoed his praise.
Embarrassed by all the attention, he was relieved when Mr. Weasley had them resume the climb.
Hermione was stunned, the only time's she'd seen Harry's that serious was at the end of the previous year, when they had Peter Pettigrew at their mercy. Harry had stood up to both Sirius and Remus that night and put his foot down in deciding the rat's fate. His tone then brokered no argument then, cowing the two older men into agreement. He's always been strong and willing to stand up against people with power, but being there to witness it was something that left her amazed.
She was much more used to his accommodating side, always willing to go along with what would make his friends happy. But these rare instances, where his inner strength stood out, showed her the side of him that was brave enough to face a basilisk or walk into the dark forest in search of answers.
The thought of why he'd done some of those things had her stomach doing summersaults. It was for their friends, for her. In some way, she was thankful for the dangers they encountered. Were it not for the troll, she might never have found the friendship in him and Ron that she had. That huge, stinking behemoth brought them into her life. Brought Harry into her life. The bookworm blushed as she thought of the way Harry put himself between her and Professor Lupin in the forest, and the ride on Buckbeak, as much she hated flying. She'd do that again if he asked.
Feeling the warmth of the scarf around her neck, she looked up at his back as they climbed the stairs, she sighed. It didn't a genius to realize that she harboured a massive crush on her best friend.
They arrived at their seats, and with a balcony to look down from, Hermione realized just how high up they truly were. It was frightening, heights were never something she enjoyed, so she sought safety in the one place she knew she'd always find it, beside Harry.
Ron eyed Hermione squeezing in closer to Harry, and didn't know what to think of it, he wasn't sure if he was jealous, or afraid.
Before his trail of thought could fester. Commotion drew all of their attention.
An explosion of green and gold nearly blinded them as fireworks lit up the stadium and the night sky. The Irish players entered alongside their mascots, leprechauns. As they flew, the fireworks coalesced into a giant imitation of their mascot, before it all scattered, raining bits of gold onto them all. Gold, which Harry found, was actually Galleons. Ron scooped up a handful and handed it to Harry.
"For the omnioculars," explained Ron.
With a sigh, Harry pocketed the gold, unwilling to argue.
The crowd's cheers drove the exchange to the back of his mind, as right then, the Bulgarian players entered along with their cheerleaders, an unbelievably beautiful ensemble woman. Their platinum-blonde hair seemed to radiate with more light than even the gold which had rained down moments before. It was when they began to sing, that his breath caught.
He felt their angelic voices wash over him, filling him with a desperate compulsion to impress them. It welled up from deep inside of him, suffusing his entire being before he grit his teeth and stamped it out. The majority of men were not as resistant. They were being worked into a frenzy, some even trying to jump the railing to get closer, Ron included. Ginny had her hands full pulling him back, the twins seemed affected, but were putting up a helluva fight, with their knuckles white from how hard they squeezed the railings. Harry noticed Mr. Weasley snap himself out of it before covering his ears and motioning for them to do the same.
Hermione finally snapped out of the song with a gasping breath and focused her attention on Harry in shock. He was doing a better job at resisting than all of the men around them.
Feeling her eyes on him, Harry turned, meeting Hermione's gaze.
"What's going on Hermione? The song? Everyone's going mad?" asked Harry slightly panicked.
"Uh sorry Harry, I didn't catch that," answered Hermione, snapping out of her thoughts.
"What's going on!?" he asked again, louder this time.
"They're Veela Harry, it's a part of their magic," she explained. "They can make men go crazy for them when they sing. They're part bird, when they get angry, they get feathers and their features become more birdlike. Oh, they can also throw fire."
Her factual response calmed him down. He checked out the mascots again, with a clearer understanding. "Hmm... beautiful, angelic, fire throwing bird women, got it," replied Harry, counting off each point with his fingers.
"Harrrry!" she exclaimed. "Don't be so cavalier about it, now are you going to explain?"
"Explain what?" asked Harry confusedly.
"How you were able to resist their song? You were probably one of the most unaffected guys in the stadium… Even I was affected." She stared at him, as if she could draw the answer out of his mind through sheer persistence.
"Oh, uhm, I felt this need to impress them, it was really intense, and it felt wrong, so I refused," he replied, as if the answer was sufficient, he should have known she wouldn't let the subject drop until she got a real answer.
"Only you Harry... Only you," she sighed, settling the matter, and turning her attention back to the event.
Harry followed her lead, paying attention to the game now that it's started.
They watched the match, cheering whenever Ireland scored, an amusing sight on Hermione's part, with her Bulgarian coloured scarf. The game was skewed steeply in the green and gold team's favour, with their chaser's being vastly superior, pushing the Bulgarians into a defensive game that had them struggling to keep up.
Hermione was shocked at how violent professional Quidditch was. Then again, with magical healing methods, what would be a career ending injury in a muggle sport, is merely a resolvable inconvenience.
The game took a final high note as the seekers took off, Ireland's Lynch on the heels of the Bulgarian's, Krum. The pair went into a steep dive, rapidly descending. Hermione held her breath as they got closer and closer to the ground.
"He's faking, there's no snitch," said Harry calmy from beside her.
Moments later, Viktor Krum pulled up sharply, far too suddenly for Irelands seeker Lynch to react, a second later, he crashed headfirst into the ground, the crumbling heap sent a shocked gasp throughout the thousands present.
She turned towards her best friend. "How did you know he was faking?" she asked, curious to learn the thought process behind it.
"His eyes, he kept checking on Lynch, he was breaking his attention too frequently. If the snitch was there, he'd have kept his eyes forward more."
"Hmm," hummed Hermione, impressed.
Mere seconds later Krum was on the move again. His Firebolt hurtling him at an insane speed. "He's seen it this time."
Clearly still affected by his earlier crash, Lynch was sluggish, causing the superior Krum, to pull even further ahead. The Irish seeker didn't stand a chance. Before you knew it, the Bulgarian had the snitch in his hands.
"And that's it! Krum has the snitch, but with a final score of 170 – 160, Ireland wins!"
The commentators voice bellowed out over the deafening cheers of the Irish fans.
"Why would he catch the snitch if they were going to lose?" asked Hermione, trying to find a bit more insight into a seekers mind.
"He knew they'd lose. Irelands chasers were too good. But he wanted to end the game on his own terms. I'd have done the same."
"Hmm, I see."
It was several hours later and the euphoria of from the match had yet to wear off. The campgrounds were bustling with the sounds of fans celebrating. Even in their tent, despite the late hour, none of them had gone to sleep. Harry sat on the side, his back against the base of a small couch as he sipped on a cold bottle of butterbeer and watched the Weasleys enjoying themselves. Fred and George were singing a silly song they'd improvised on the spot about Ron and Krum, to his ire and everyone's amusement. At the other end, were Ginny and Hermione who chatted with smiles, having tucked themselves into a corner so as to not be overheard. The only one truly mirroring Harry was Mr. Weasley, who was also content with relaxing while everyone enjoyed themselves.
Their celebrations were interrupted by a bone chilling scream which tore through the area.
"Blimey, the Irish must really be going at it eh," said George, nervously.
Mr. Weasley ducked out of the tent with a serious expression. They all waited around anxiously throughout the seconds until his return.
When he did, he'd come in with deadly serious frown. "It's not the Irish. Fred, George, you're responsible for Ginny, Percy you're with me. Ron, Hermione, Harry stick with them. Now I want you all to head to the emergency point. It's just outside the campsite, back the way we came when we arrived. Fred, you and George should know the way. NOW GET MOVING," barked Mr. Weasley, snapping them out of their shock. Most of them fumbled on their way out, all except for Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who'd already had experience with life threatening situations.
The campgrounds were on burning, people screamed as they ran for their lives. Harry caught sight of a group of men wearing white masks, and black robes. They were setting fire to everything around them as they moved in between curses which they threw at the fleeing people. Some of the spells were a sickly green that Harry would recognize anywhere.
"Death Eaters," whispered on the twins. Soft as it was, they all heard it.
"No time to sit around! Go!" yelled Mr. Weasley.
"Ginny, stay between us and give me your hand, can't risk us getting split up," said Fred, grabbing his sisters hand before she could attempt to protest. She didn't, and instead stuck close to her older brother.
Harry and Hermione's eyes met, and her breath caught. She saw it again. That seriousness, the same as earlier when they'd encountered the Malfoys, but it was even more intense now. His eyes were hardened with a fire that burned cold, calculating and unwavering.
"Let's go Hermione, Ron come on," said Harry, firmly.
Percy and Mr. Weasley moved off towards the commotion to help. The remaining Weasley's and Harry went the opposite direction into the woods towards the portkey arrival site. They pushed through the chaos. Once in the cover of the trees, it was if the world suddenly quieted, what was a cacophony of screams, made way for a haunting eeriness, not unlike a night spent in the forbidden forest. The only reminder of the attack being the occasional scream loud enough to pierce the thick silence of the trees.
As the group moved deeper, the tension rose with every step. The hyper-alertness of the situation made them jittery, conscious of every sound.
Hermione was brought back to that night in the forest, trying to save Sirius's life, when Harry and herself had evaded Lupin. Just like then, despite the danger of the situation, she found herself unafraid. Harry was with her, and together they could get through anything.
She noticed, unaware if even he was conscious of what he was doing, but whenever a twig snapped, or a sound that could mean danger reached them. Harry would shift between her and the direction of the sound. As warm as the feeling his protectiveness, subconscious or not gave her, she stepped forward putting herself beside him.
If there is something to face, she was doing it with him, not hiding behind his back.
A terrified, pained scream tore through the treeline, startling them. Before the others could react, Harry had already put one foot in front of the other and sprinted through the dense forest, with nothing but the light at the tip of his wand to prevent him from tripping.
Thankfully, the source wasn't far. He arrived at a clearing, barely a few meters from end to end. In the centre, a pair of masked wizards stood over the convulsing prone form of a young woman, she writhed and spasmed as her muscles pulled taut. The pained scream was wrought from her throat.
One of the wizards had his wand pointed at her, a severe concentration in his stiff form. The other jeered him on, as well as laughed and taunted the girl being tortured.
Harry didn't wait, rage filled him, and his wand was focused on the back of the man holding her under the curse. He growled out the first spell that came to mind, it was quick and easy to cast, but most of all, it was devasting. The blasting curse struck the man in the back with force of a speeding car, launched him through air and slamming him solidly against a tree. He crumpled into a heap, likely with a shattered spine, among other injuries. Blood oozed into the ground around the man, accompanied with raspy breaths.
Caught off guard by the damage his spell had done, Harry ended up giving the second man enough time to react. It was by pure reflex, that he'd even managed to dodge the horrifying green light of a killing curse. His dodge was unbalanced, causing him to nearly fall. His awkward footing made him slow, he realized that he would not be able to dodge the next spell.
Harry could see the mad glimmer in the man's eyes through his mask. This Death Eater recognized him and was going for the kill.
"Stupefy!"
Hermione's voice rang out, a God send. The flash of red took the man by surprise, though being as skilled as he had already switched to defence, with a hastily cast shield charm. Before he could retaliate, the rest of Harry's group emerged from the woods, bolstering their numbers and throwing the odds heavily in their favour.
Beneath the mask, Lucius Malfoy was no fool, he knew his chance to end Harry Potter's life had been lost. He changed the direction of his wand and fired a piercing curse at the downed woman they'd been tormenting. Though it lacked the finality of the killing curse, it was far easier to cast, and faster.
His distraction created, Lucius grabbed his downed ally and portkeyed to safety.
"No!" yelled Harry, rushing towards the young woman now losing blood rapidly. He dropped to his knees at her side, and hastily turned her over and was momentarily stunned.
She was easily the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. Platinum-blonde hair framed a face adorned with the most striking blue eyes, surrounded by delicate features with the aristocratic air of someone highborn. Their eyes met, he could see the plea in them, she was terrified.
Harry pulled off his sweater and used it to put pressure on the wound. Thankfully, the curse didn't go through. What little Harry knew of first aid told him that was a good thing.
"You're going to be alright, ok. You're not going to die here." He tried to comfort her, but his own panic and the blood soaking through the fabric in his hands worked against him.
"E..lle," her voice broke out.
"Don't speak, I've got you ok, try not to speak."
"STOP STANDING THERE AND HELP ME!" Barked Harry towards the rest, snapping them out of their stupor. Hermione was beside him a second later, her hands joined his in trying to staunch the bleeding.
"Elle— Ga...brielle," the girl's strained voice mustered out.
"Gabrielle? Is that your name?" asked Harry, trying to keep her focus on him.
She slowly shook her head to the side. "Ma—sœur."
He didn't understand what she meant, and was about to try and ask, when Hermione answered for him.
"Your sister? Where?"
The pained young woman tilted her head to the side, her eyes staring towards the trees. Harry followed her line of sight and to his shock, found a young girl near the tree line. She stood there stunned, shaking like a leaf with tears streaming down her face.
"Gabrielle?" asked Harry, spurning the girl into action, she sprinted over, dropping at her sister's side.
"Fleur! Fleur! don't die, plea- please don't die!"
"I- I used the bra- bracelet."
"Papa wi- will come so- soon."
The girl, Gabrielle, choked out rapidly in between sobs. Harry couldn't understand a thing she'd said, it sounded like French, but Hermione followed her words with a focus that showed her comprehension.
"Fleur?" He wondered if that was her name. The way her eyes shifted to him led him to believe he'd gotten it right.
"That's it, keep talking Gabrielle," The girl looked up at Harry's voice, he'd managed to find his feet and spoke firmly, it had a calming effect on the little French girl. He wasn't even sure if she understood English, but he realized she'd caught his meaning regardless, by the way her fearful eyes grew determined. Harry was seriously impressed with this little girl's bravery. She continued speaking to her sister, but without choking this time.
"You promised to take me to the beach before school this year."
"And you were going to pay back that bitch Annette for bullying me."
She took a breath.
"And you promised me a kitten."
"So, you can't die here OK!"
Harry noticed that Fleur seemed almost entranced by her little sister's voice, but he wasn't sure if her calmness was due to it, or weakness from the blood loss.
"You're doing great Gabrielle."
"If you die, who will buy chocolate bonbons for me to steal?"
The young woman winced in pain, stifling her laugh at this. It was a spark of life, a sound that filled them all with hope.
"You're doing great Fleur, keep listening to your sister. You're going to make it out of this alright." His voice washed over the young woman.
Fleur met his eyes, and he could see the strength returning.
Gabrielle kept speaking to her, helping to hold her consciousness. Moments later the sound of apparition signalled the arrival of others. Though panic nearly set in when the yells of Stupefy sounded out, flashes of red flew over them. Harry covered Fleur with his body, shielding her, while Hermione pulled Gabrielle down. The others did their best to shield them, but the suddenness of it all meant they had little success.
"STOP YOU FOOLS! THOSE ARE MY DAUGHTERS!" A man's furious voice bellowed in rage.
Harry was pushed aside before he could sit up fully. It was a man with thick brown hair and a clean-shaven face. An auror, he realized by the signature robes. Though he had an extra green logo, a cross between a bone and a wand. The man immediately began working to close Fleur's wounds.
"My daughter?" asked the man who had shouted out earlier. His voice was soft now, the anger gone, replaced with solemn fear and worry. He was crouched on a knee, holding the younger sister, Gabrielle, in a tight hug. The little girl trembled against her father's chest as she sobbed in shock and relief.
"She's unconscious," answered the auror. "But stable, we need to move her, but she'll recover. I've given her a blood replenisher for now, but she needs treatment for Cruciatus exposure."
Fleur's father drew in a sharp hiss at hearing that. But he kept silent while the auror continued to explain.
"The curse took out a section of her spleen, we can't treat that here." He removed a red and blue string from a pocket and fastened it around Fleur before handing the other end to Fleur's father and sister. "Grab on, this is a special portkey, it's slower, but less taxing. We're going to St. Mungos."
Motioning for Gabrielle to hold on, the girl's father faced Harry and his friends. "Thank you all, you saved my daughters." He was whisked away along with the medic before any of them could respond.
Harry felt a hand on his shoulder.
"You alright lad? Not hurt, are you?" It was another of the aurors.
"I'm alright—None of the blood is mine..."
"Good," the auror breathed a sigh of relief. "But we still need you to get you all checked over though."
Harry nodded. "Wait, the men who attacked her. I hit one of them with a blasting curse to the back, it sent him up against that tree, I'm sure he was bleeding."
The auror's eyes widened, before he waved for one of his colleagues to go check.
"We've got blood!" The second auror confirmed.
The one who'd been speaking to Harry grinned. "Good job, lads."
Mr. Weasley arrived shortly after and collected Harry, he brought him over to the others who were speaking to third auror. Percy was nearby, holding a hushed discussion with a man who was likely his boss, if the body language was enough to go by.
He overhead something about a dark mark and an elf.
Harry stepped in beside Hermione and put his hand on her arm. She smiled up at him and drew herself closer.
Despite the both of them being covered in blood, and despite never having done so before, Harry wrapped his arm around her, and pulled her against his side, he was just glad to know she was alright. A soft smile graced her lips as she rested her head on his shoulder and wrapped her own arm around his back. The stress of the evening weighed heavy upon them both, but they felt better at that moment.
It was a small miracle that they were all alright, even the young woman who they'd saved. Fleur, he recalled.
"You saved my ass tonight you know."
"Think this makes us even for the troll?" quipped Hermione, her breath tickled his jaw.
"Not even close, there weren't any boogers on your wand."
Hermione laughed. "True, I can't think of anything worse than that."
Harry let out a breath, with a smile towards the girl in his arms. He looked up and fixed his attention to the auror in front.
"The circumstances of this evening are noted, your use of underage magic is justified, and will not go on your records as a violation. Now with that out of the way, you done great kids, that young lady is likely alive thanks to you." The auror smiled at them proudly.
Mr. Weasley hugged Ginny to his side. "Let's go home."
As Harry watched the auror with the healer's badge save the young woman's life, it was as if all the pieces slowly fell into place. He'd been so unsure of his future until then, but now he knew. He recalled the conversation in the morning.
"Hermione?"
"Yes, Harry?"
"What do you think it takes to become a healer?"
END CHAPTER ONE
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