Ch. 7
Percy walked in a haze. His eyes were only slits as he kept his eyes on the dark hoody that moved in front of him. It was easiest this way, looking past that would mean having to properly wake up and he had zero interest in doing that.
It was only a little time past four in the morning when he'd been shaken awake by Ron who looked completely miserable himself. Percy didn't mind getting up early but this was a bit much. By the time Harry and Ron had finished explaining quidditch to him, it was getting close to midnight when they went to bed, which meant he'd gotten a whopping four hours of sleep before they'd had to get up and leave the Weasley house.
He was even more devastated to learn they had to walk to wherever they were going.
Had the Fates no mercy?
He could hear Ron beside him and was sure he'd heard him snore a couple times, dozing off while walking, a feat not even he could claim to have matched.
It took about forty five minutes before Mr. Weasley stopped their little misery march. They were at the foot of what at the moment looking at a ridiculously large hill.
"There we are!" Mr. Weasley said cheerily. "The portkey is somewhere at the top of Stoteshead Hill" He checked his pocket watch and seemed satisfied with what he saw. "Right on time. Let's move though, at five fifteen the portkey goes with or without us."
Percy was too sleepy to even properly wonder what a portkey was. At the moment, he could care less. It might have been the entrance to Medusa's lair for all he knew but the idea of trying to comprehend some new magical thing was just way too much to process.
The trek up the hill was brutal, and each breath Percy took was sharp, the cold air stinging his lungs with each inhale. He felt a little embarrassed at how difficult he found the hike though it was mostly the sleepiness that made it difficult though. Percy seemed to handle it better than the others, even the chipper Mr. Weasley, as apparently wizardry didn't involve a lot of physical effort; none of the Weasleys or Harry seemed to have to be in all that good of shape. Hermione was better than the rest and managed to keep up with him as he climbed the slope. The incline did help to wake him up, though it certainly didn't make his mood any better.
Hermione stumbled after stepping into a small hidden rabbit hole and would have fallen on her face if Percy hadn't managed to catch her arm at the last minute. She stumbled into him cursing before looking up and finding their faces mere inches apart.
"Sorry," she blushed in embarassment, though it was mostly hidden by the darkness.
"No problem," he smiled, "those holes are all over the place."
"Yea... Yeah." She stuttered, stepping away from him after balancing herself.
Percy and Hermione waited at the summit of the hill as the rest of their group came huffing and puffing after them.
"Bloody hell, Dad." Ron whined. "Are you sure we're far enough off the grid?"
"Couldn't be having muggles coming across the portkey, now could we? Hard enough keeping the location of the World Cup secure without muggles popping in from accidental portkey journeys."
"Alright, I'll bite," Percy said now that he was properly awake. "What's a portkey?"
"Another way of travel," Hermione answered quickly. "It'a an object used to transport people, or several people. It's faster than brooms and safer than apparating."
"Exactly," Mr. Weasley added on, "now we just need to find it. The portkey will be something small that looks like rubbish or something a muggle wouldn't want to touch. Go on, everyone start looking, we've only got ten minutes before our scheduled time."
Before they could start their search, a shout rang out through the still air.
"Oy! Arthur!" A older man called over towards them.
Mr. Weasley smiled as the older man and a young teen, right around Percy's age, made their way towards them.
"Amos!" Mr. Weasley said cheerfully, shaking the hand of the ruddy faced older gentleman. He had a scrubby brown beard and held a a moldy looking old brown boot in his hand.
"We've got it here, Arthur." Amos said happily.
"This is Amos Diggory, everyone" Mr. Weasley introduced. "He works for the Ministry in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And I'm sure you know his son, Cedric."
Percy eyed the teenage boy beside the man. He looked around sixteen or seventeen and appeared either shy or tired, Percy deciding it was probably the latter.
"He's captain of the Hufflepuff quidditch team," Harry whispered beside Percy, though Percy was still struggling with the concept of quidditch and decided against even asking what a Hufflepuff was.
"Hi," Cedric said quietly. Most of their group said hi back, with the exception of Fred and George who simply nodded stiffly, looking far less pleased than the rest at the sight of the new kid.
"Yes," Mr. Weasley nodded and gestured to his large brood. "You know my kids, Ron, Fred and George. And these," he gestured to Hermione and Harry, "are my son Ron's friends, Hermione and Harry."
Mr. Diggory gave Hermione a polite nod then turned to Harry, his expression becoming a mixture of surprise and excitement.
"Yes," he replied. "Harry Potter. Cedric has told me about you. Quite the quidditch player yourself, I hear. Though Ced tells me he got the best of you last year. Quite the seeker himself, if I do say so, myself."
Cedric shot his father a looked of annoyed embarrassment, "Got lucky," he muttered quietly.
"Bloody right, you did." Both Fred and George grumbled, though no one paid them any mind.
"Lucky?" Mr. Diggory said clearly not in agreement. "Modest, my boy is. Bloody good seeker, and I'm sure Harry'd agree! Best seeker won that day. You'd agree with that, wouldn't ya Harry?"
"Uh," Harry nodded awkwardly. "Yeah, definitely."
Mr. Weasley seemed to pick up on the uncomfortableness Amos' boasting was creating and gestured to Percy.
"And this," he cut in. "Is Percy Jackson. He's from the States and will be attending Hogwarts this year."
Mr. Diggory finally broke his gaze from Harry and seemed to notice Percy for the first time.
"America, you say?" He asked intrigued. "A transfer from Ilvermorny?
Percy looked to Mr. Weasley, unsure what he was talking about.
"Actually," Mr. Weasley answered for him. "He's a bit of a late bloomer, I guess you could say. Wasn't found until he came to London. Dumbledore himself came to visit Percy here just a couple days ago. He's actually a distant cousin of Harry, or so I've been told."
"Dumbledore you say?" Amos' interest grew. "You're not a decendent of Zacharias Jackson, are you?"
Before Percy could answer, Mr. Weasley cut in quickly, "I don't that's at all relevant, Amos." His tone was noticeably colder and had an edge to it that almost seemed warning. Mr. Diggory noticed and waved it off.
"Of course not," he agreed. "Simple curiosity, my old friend. My apologies, I meant no offense."
"Right," Arthur checked his pocket watch again, "blimey, it's almost time. Come on everyone, gather up, we've got thirty seconds."
Everyone quickly came together, reaching out and touching the moldy old boot. Mr. Weasley waved Percy towards him, "Come along, Percy. Just place your finger on the portkey."
Percy did as he was told but his mind was focused on what'd just happened. The way Amos had said the name Zacharias Jackson had very clearly not been with fondness. Then Mr. Weasley's response just made it even more confusing. It was almost like he was making an effort to end the talk before Amos said anything else. It made Percy's stomach turn a little, now both curious and nervous to hear anything else.
His thoughts ended when he was suddenly ripped off his feet. His eyes instinctively closed as he felt like he was on the end of a giant's lasso, whipping around at super sonic speeds. Before he'd managed to collect his thoughts, he hit the ground hard, rolling a few times before stopping on his stomach. Just as he lifted his head, he felt something crash down on top of him.
"Bloody hell," Harry groaned from atop him, clearly just as dazed as he was.
He pushed himself up, forcing Harry to roll off and grunt as he flopped onto his back. Percy turned in time to see Mr. Weasley, Fred and George, Mr. Diggory and Cedric all land gracefully on the ground a few feet away. He heard Ron grumbling a few feet away then saw Hermione trying to brush herself off quickly, hiding the evidence of her ungraceful landing.
"I'm starting to really hate the way you wizards travel," Percy muttered as he pulled himself to his feet. He offered his hand to Harry who took it gratefully.
"My first time using a portkey too." Harry admitted, brushing the dirt from his jeans and sweatshirt.
"Almost as fun as that floo travel thing you do," Percy said shaking his head.
Two odd looking men walked towards the group, one of them holding a clipboard in his hand. Percy tilted his head to the side, trying to fully comprehend their outfits.
"They're trying to look like muggles," Harry whispered with obvious amusement when he noticed Percy's look.
One of the men wore a tweed suit with thigh length galoshes, making him look like he was heading for a business meeting in the middle of a river. The man held a pocket watch in his hand, one eye glued to the time as if he were anxiously waiting for something.
The other man wore a kilt with a bright yellow poncho. He held the clipboard and approached Mr. Weasley.
"Morning Basel," Mr. Weasley said politely, picking up the boot and handing it to the wizard. The man threw it into a large box behind him that was filled with an assortment of what looked like garbage but what Percy assumed were other used portkeys. He saw an old newpaper, a deflated soccer ball and an empty can of cola.
"Hello there, Arthur," said Basel tiredly."Not on duty, eh? It's alright for some but we've been here all night. You better get out of the way, we've got a big party coming in from the Black Forest in three minutes. Hang on, I'll find your campsite."
The middle aged wizard flipped through a few pages of his clipboard, "Weasley... Weasley... Ah, about a quarters of a mile walk over there," he pointed to his left, "first field you come to, site manager is called Mr. Roberts." The man turned to Amos who was beside Mr. Weasley, "Diggory, second field. Ask for Mr. Payne."
"Thanks, Basel," Mr. Weasley said before beckoning their small brood to follow him. They set off in the direction they'd been pointed in, though it was tough to see where they were headed through the thick morning mist.
Percy got a sobering feeling of deja vu as his mind flashed back to his entry into the Garden of the Hesperides with Thalia, Grover and Zoe just a few years earlier. He frowned as the events of that quest flooded back into his mind, the sadness of watching Zoe die in front of him and the relief of saving Annabeth reopening old wounds he wished would just go away.
After twenty minutes of walking, a small stone cottage with an open metal gate came into view. Behind it, barely visible through the mist, Percy saw the shapes of what had to be hundreds of tents rising up the gentle slope of a large field.
Mr. Weasley said his goodbyes to the Diggorys and made his way to the cottage door. Standing in the doorway was a meager looking elderly man.
"Morning," Mr. Weasley said pleasantly as he approached the man.
"Morning," the man said back, this one looking much more normally dressed in a pair of dirty blue jeans and a flannel coat.
"You wouldn't be Mr. Roberts, would you?" Mr. Weasley continued.
"Aye, I would." The man, Mr. Roberts, nodded back. "And who are you?"
"Weasley, two tents, booked a couple of days ago." Mr. Weasley replied.
"Aye," Mr. Roberts turned to examine a list tacked to the door. "You've got the space just up to the right there. Just the one night?"
"Yes," Mr. Weasley said back, "just the one."
"You'll be paying now, then?" Mr. Roberts asked.
"Uh, right, certainly." Mr. Weasley answered before turning around and beckoning Percy and Harry over to him.
"Help me, boys." He pulled a rolled of paper money from his pocket, starting to pull the bills apart. "This is a ten, right?"
Percy shrugged his shoulders, not particularly familiar with British currency.
"Yes, I see the little number." Arthur continued. "And this is a, five?"
"A twenty," Harry corrected, trying to keep his voice low after noticing the muggle site manager keenly trying to hear their conversation. "How much do you need?"
"Seventy five."
Harry plucked a few more bills and added it to the others in Mr. Weasley's hand.
"You foreign?" Mr. Roberts arched an eyebrow.
"Foreign?" Mr. Weasley asked confused.
"You're not the first who's had trouble paying me. I had a few try to pay me in gold coins the size of hubcaps. Never been this crowded, lots of prepays and reservations. Most times, people just show up."
"Yes," Mr. Weasley said uncomfortably. "Gold coins, you say?"
"Not just foreigners either," Mr. Roberts continued ignoring the question. "Weirdos. There's one bloke walking around in a kilt and a poncho!"
Before Mr. Weasley could respond, Percy jumped back when wizard appeared right behind the man and pointed his wand at Mr. Roberts.
"Obliviate!"
Mr. Roberts got a dreamy, faraway look in his eyes, "Right, a camp map for you." He pulled out a folded up piece of paper which Mr. Weasley took and quickly walked away. The wizard who'd appeared out of thin air walked beside them.
"Needs a bloody memory charm ten times a day," The wizard said wearily. "Doesn't help Ludo Bagman's walking around talking about bludgers and beaters at the top of his voice." Without waiting for a response, the man vanished with a quiet popping noise.
"Right now," Mr. Weasley smiled. "Here we are. The tent on the right is for Hermione and Ginny when she arrives. We're on the left boys." He pulled open the flap and stepped inside. The others followed. When Percy stepped through, he had to do a double take.
The inside of the tent had to have been bigger than the cabin Mr. Roberts lived in. Somehow, their small tent was big enough on the inside that it could have housed a group of twenty people or so. It was complete with a bathroom and kitchen, with bunkbeds set up in a small row along the side of the room.
Percy took a step backwards, out of the tent, then stepped back in.
"So," he said shaking his head. "It's smaller on the outside."
"Enchanted," Hermione explained, though that really didn't explain much to him. He nodded, as if he actually understood it.
"Well," Mr. Weasley clapped his hands. "Ron, why don't you and your friends go find the tap. We're going to need water if we're going to cook dinner."
Ron gave his father a strange look, "You want us to fetch water? Can't you just..."
"We're camping!" His father exclaimed excitedly. "No magic. We're going to do it like the muggles do!"
Ron rolled his eyes and turned around, trudging out of the tent. Percy, Harry and Hermione followed behind him.
"How are we supposed to find the well?" Ron grumbled.
"It's over there." Percy answered without thinking, pointing towards the far side of the clearing. All three turned to look at him, their expressions showing their confusion.
"What?"
"How do you know that?" Hermione gave him a quizzical look.
"Oh," Percy said quickly, mentally cursing himself for his stupidity. How was he supposed to tell them he knew that? He couldn't exactly say he could sense the deep water well through his Poseidon powers.
"I, uh, saw people heading their with pitchers when we walked in. Maybe I'm wrong though."
Harry and Ron both took his explanation without a second thought but Hermione continued her quizzical look. It wasn't until Percy spread his hands to silently ask what she was looking at that she finally looked away, following after Ron and Harry in the direction they'd pointed.
As they walked through the rows of tents, people seemed to be waking, reminding Percy that it was still couldn't be much past six in the morning. He found himself a little mesmerized as they passed people. Small children were running around, all dressed oddly, in what he could only guess was normal witch and wizard attire. He saw a pair of young girls sitting on miniature broomsticks that hovered just high enough so their toes dragged across the ground.
An older man breezed past them, his eyes on the two young girls, muttering to himself angrily.
"In broad daylight! Parents having a lay in, I suppose!"
The man, apparently someone with authority, quickly got the girls off their broomsticks and sent them racing into their tents before he could properly scold them.
As they continued on, Percy caught bits and pieces of conversations in different languages as he realized many of these witches and wizards were foreign. The thought made him shake his head, unsure how the world of magic could be so widespread with the rest of the world oblivious.
They came up to a large group of tents that had large shamrocks emblazoned on the sides.
"The Irish," Ron said giddily. "I wonder where the Bulgarians are camped. Wouldn't want to see those two find each other before the match."
"The Bulgarians?" Percy asked.
"Yeah, the final is between Ireland and Bulgaria. Both fanbases are fanatics. Would probably turn into a full fledged riot if they started to get into it before the match."
Just as he finished his sentence, a boy around fourteen came running up to them.
"Guys! Hey!"
All four turned to see a boy with sandy colored hair and pale skin run up grinning.
Harry smiled at him, "Seamus."
A.N: Getting there. Filler chapter to get back into it. More to come this weekend.