CHAPTER FOURTY
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-: fourth year :-
── IN WHICH THE TENT IS PITCHED
. . .
With their excitement, the tiredness wore off like it was nothing, and the quarter of a mile between their destination and the small patch of misty moor that they took the portkey to followed that.
It took about twenty minutes after they had left Basil and his colleague behind to reach the campsite. However, what they were greeted with first seemed odd - a cottage and a gate swam into view through the mist, and beyond that, the group could only just make out the ghostly shapes of hundreds and hundreds of tents, rising up the gentle slope of a large field toward a dark wood on the horizon.
Prompted by Mr Weasley, they said their goodbyes to the Diggorys as the father and son trekked back out into the mist. Then, Arthur pulled his children towards the door of the cottage, guiding Marlie and Harry to the front.
A man was standing in the doorway, looking out at the tents and from just a glance, it was ever so obvious he the only real Muggle for several acres, no matter how hard wizards tried to look like them. When he heard their footsteps, he turned his head to look at them.
"Morning!" Mr Weasley greeted brightly.
"Morning," said the Muggle.
"Would you be Mr Roberts?"
"Aye, I would," Mr Roberts nodded sharply, eyes drifting over the crowd of children behind the man. "And who're you?"
"Weasley - two tents, booked a couple of days ago?"
"Aye," Mr Roberts said, consulting a list tacked to the door. "You've got a space up by the wood there. Just the one night?"
"That's it." Mr Weasley confirmed.
"You'll be paying now, then?" Mr Roberts loked expectant.
"Ah - right - certainly -" said Mr. Weasley. He retreated a short distance from the cottage and beckoned the Potter twins closer towards him. "Help me, you two," 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?"
"A twenty." Harry corrected him in an undertone.
"Mr Roberts? How much is it for the night? For both tents?" Marlie turned towards Mr Roberts. He told her and the girl held out her hands, Mr Weasley handing her the notes.
"Ah yes, so it is... I don't know, these little bits of paper..." Mr Weasley happily gave it up to her, but watched keenly over her shoulder as she counted it out, passing them back to him.
"You foreign?" Mr Roberts asked whilst Mr Weasley returned with the correct notes pulled together by Marlie.
"Foreign?" repeated Mr Weasley, looking puzzled.
"You're not the first one who's had trouble with money," Mr Roberts replied, eyes narrowing as he stared at Mr Weasley. His suspicion was rather evident and Mr Weasley's neck was turning red. Marlie was on the edge of beginning to talk to Ron in garbled Spanish she had learnt through the classes at muggle primary school. "I had two try and pay me with great gold coins the size of hubcaps ten minutes ago." Mr Roberts continued.
"Did you really?" Mr Weasley said nervously. Mr Roberts began to rummage around in a tin for some change.
"Never been this crowded," He said suddenly, looking out over the misty field again, eyes grazing over what could be thousands of tent-tops. "Hundreds of pre-bookings. People usually just turn up."
"Is that right?" Mr Weasley held out his hand for his change, but Mr Roberts didn't give it to him just yet, still peering thoughtfully at the clearly obscure sight.
"Aye," he said thoughtfully. "People from all over. Loads of foreigners. And not just foreigners. Weirdos, you know? There's a bloke walking 'round in a kilt and a poncho."
"Shouldn't he?" Mr Weasley questioned anxiously.
"A fashion statement if you ask me." Marlie's nose was wrinkled as she looked up at the muggle man. There was something in his tone that she wasn't especially charmed by.
"It's like some sort of... I dunno... like some sort of rally," Mr Roberts had acquired a similar expression to what Marlie now looked like. "They all seem to know each other. Like a big party-"
At that moment, a wizard in plus-fours appeared out of thin air next to Mr Roberts's front door. "Obliviate!" he announced sharply, pointing his wand at the muggle. Instantly, Mr Roberts's eyes slid out of focus, his brows unknitted, and a look of dreamy unconcern fell over his face.
His memory had been modified, much like how Gilderoy Lockhart's had been in the tunnels of the Chamber of Secrets. Except this was done by a profession and not by a thirteen year old with a broken wand.
"A map of the campsite for you," Mr Roberts continued placidly to Mr Weasley, as if there had never been a protest or a ton of questions. "And your change." The disgruntled look had disappeared as well, and now he smiled around the group like he didn't have a care in the world.
"Thanks very much," Mr Weasley accepted the pile of loose change and the map, hurrying to pocket the muggle money and contain his excitement and interest at the designs on them. 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 havinga lot of trouble with him. Needs a Memory Charm ten times a day to keep him happy." The man threw up his arms in pure exhaustion. "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." He Disapparated and Marlie stepped back, as if she hadn't been eavesdropping.
"I thought Mr Bagman was Head of Magical Games and Sports," asked Ginny, looking surprised. She didn't seem so bothered about eavesdropping. "He should know better than to talk about Bludgers near Muggles, shouldn't he?"
"He should," said Mr. Weasley, smiling, and leading them through the gates into the campsite. "But Ludo's always been a bit... well... lax about security. You couldn't wish for a more enthusiastic head of the sports department though. He played Quidditch for England himself, you know. And he was the best Beater the Wimbourne Wasps ever had."
And with that, they continued to follow Mr Weasley through the maze of tents, all growing more and more excited for what would come later on with every wooden peg they almost tripped over.
. . .
Marlie, despite her dislike for Mr Roberts and his constant stream of questions, could see why he was so suspicious of the people camping. Even if the muggle clothes they were wearing were relatively normal, halfway up the field was an extravagant confection of darl striped silk like a miniature palace, with several live pure-white 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 bird bath, sundial, and fountain.
Which, no matter how easily Mr Weasley managed to breeze by as if it were something he saw every day - it was not. No muggle would camp like that so it was easy how someone who wasn't so used to that world - or knew about it at all - would be suspicious. Marlie and Harry had certainly been in a similar way to Mr Roberts when it first came to it.
"Always the same." Mr Weasley said, shaking his head as he smiled and past another tent of bright purple. "We can't resist showing off when we get together. Ah, here we are, look, this is us." They had reached the very edge of the wood at the top of the field, and here was an empty space, with a small sign hammered into the ground that read 'WEEZLY '.
"Couldn't have a better spot!" Mr Weasley sounded happy as they stopped in front of it. "The field is just on the other side of the wood there, we're as close as we could be." He hoisted his backpack from his shoulders. "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 tent sup by hand! Shouldn't be too difficult... Muggles do it all the time.. Here, Harry, where do you reckon we should start?"
"I'm glad someone knows I'm not cut out for this sort of stuff." Marlie mumbled, pushing her brother forward. Neither her nor Harry had ever been camping. "Good luck with that." She added, smiling.
Despite just how cheap camping could be, the Dursleys would physically flinch at the idea of taking the twins on any sort of holiday. And when Vernon, Petunia and Dudley would go on holiday, Marlie and Harry would be left with their elderly neighbour; Arabella Figg, who had subjected them to many hours of sudoku and always had a distinct scent of cabbage soup.
"You're not getting out of this." Harry dragged Marlie forward, much to her dismay, and Hermione joined them in figuring out where most of the pegs and poles went. 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 put up a pair of shabby two-man tents.
All of them stood back to admire their handiwork when they were finally done. In comparison to some of the more.. elaborate tents, nobody would guess that the inhabitants weren't Muggles looking for a nice August camping trip.
Although, and it wasn't just Marlie who shared this concern but Harry and Hermione as well, these two tents weren't particularly big. They could just about fit the three of them, Fred, George, Ginny, Ron and Mr Weasley into the tents as they were (and it would be a very tight fit), but when Percy, Charlie and Bill arrived, that would make their party of eight into eleven. And none of the elder Weasley children were particularly small either.
"But how..?" Marlie's head tilted in confusion as she shared a look with Hermione, watching as Mr Weasley knelt in front of the first tent and crawled through the flaps.
"We'll be a bit cramped," Mr Weasley called from within, "but I think we'll all squeeze in. Come and have a look."
Though she doubted it severely, Marlie dropped to her hands and knees and followed Harry in, straightening up and taking a look around the tent. "Holy shi-" Hermione clamped a hand over her mouth just in time, both of their eyes wide as they took in the interior of the tents.
They 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 mismatchedchairs and a strong smell of cats.
"Well, it's not for long," said Mr Weasley, mopping his bald patch with a handkerchief and peering in at the four bunk beds that stood in the bedroom. "Marlie, you'll be staying with the girls this time." Mr Weasley smiled at her and Hermione. "I borrowed this from Perkins at the office. Doesn't camp much anymore, poor fellow, he's got lumbago." Behind Marlie, Hermione was alreading exiting the tent and swerving around the twins.
Mr Weasley had picked up the dusty kettle and peered inside it just before Marlie was thinking of leaving. "We'll need water..."
"There's a tap marked on this map the Muggle gave us," said Ron, who had followed his brothers and Harry inside the tent and seemed completely unimpressed by its extraordinary inner proportions.
But Marlie didn't get to hear what else was said, Hermione's arm appearing and pulling her back out. "How bad was it last night? Me and Ginny kept hearing Percy grumbling." The Granger girl asked, as they ducked under the flaps of the tent next door, the insides of that one slightly smaller but matching decor to the first.
"Not too bad. We just found everything funny and none of us were really that tired." Marlie shrugged. "But god, boys are disgusting!" She exclaimed. "I've never been so glad to stay in a tent before! And trust me, I'm not really a camping person."
"We could all figure that out." Ginny's head appeared around one of the walls - she had sat up on her bed, which wasn't a bunkbed but a slightly smaller twin. "But we're only gonna be sleeping in here, really."
"Oi, Marlie, Hermione." Ron barged through into the tent without a single word of warning.
"Ronald!" Hermione exclaimed. "You need to.. knock or something before bursting in here."
"Yeah, what if we were changing or something?" Marlie couldn't help but tease, seeing the pink blush grow over Ron's cheeks before his eyes landed on Ginny.
"Gross." Ron grumbled. "Nope. Ew. Dad said we had to get water." Harry appeared in the tent beside him, sheepishly holding up a map. "Get all your pots and pans, they should be in that cupboard."
"What did you say to him?" Harry asked, watching as Ron disappeared out of the tent, ears still a little pink. Hermione just nodded at Marlie and he seemed to understand. "We'll be waiting outside - and you're lucky, it doesn't smell of cats in here."
"Thank god." Marlie nodded, watching as her twin followed Ron and turned to Hermione. "So lets get these pots and pans? I'm guessing he wants us to take the kettle as well."
"Gin - you're on firewood duty, let's go." One of the twins shouted, and grumbling, Ginny left Hermione and Marlie to it.
. . .
Marlie had forgotten just how early it was, and as they made through the eerily quiet campsite it started to come to life, inhabitants of the strange and wonderful or completely normal tents beginning to wake up.
First to stir were the families with small children; none of the muggle-raised friends had ever seen witches and wizards this young before. A tiny boy no older than two was crouched outside a large pyramid-shaped tent, holding a wand and poking happily at a slug in the grass, which was swelling slowly to the size of a salami. As they drew level with him, his mother came hurrying out of the tent.
"How many times, Kevin? You don't - touch - Daddy's -wand - yecchh!"She had trodden on the giant slug, which burst.
Her scolding carried after them on the still air, mingling with the little boy'syells - "You bust slug! You bust slug!"
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 Marlie, Harry, Ron, and Hermione he muttered distractedly; "In broad daylight! Parents having a lie-in, I suppose -"
Here and there adult wizards and witches were emerging fromtheir tents and starting to cook breakfast. Some, with furtive looks around them, conjured fires with their wands; others were striking matches with dubious looks on their faces, as though sure this couldn't work. Three wizards sat in serious conversation, all of them wearing long white robes and roasting what looked like a rabbit on a bright purple fire, while a group of middle-aged American witches sat gossiping happily beneath a spangled banner stretched between their tents that read: 'THE SALEM WITCHES' INSTITUTE'.
They caught snatches of conversation in strange languages from the inside of tents they passed, and though none of them could understand a word, the tone of every single voice was excited.
"Er - is it my eyes, or has everything gone green?" Ron asked. It wasn't just Ron's eyes. The four of them had walked into a patch of tents that were all covered with a thick growth of shamrocks, so that it looked as though small, oddly shaped hillocks had sprouted out of the earth. Grinning faces could be seen under those that had their flaps open. Marlie couldn't help but squint slightly, the green so overwhelmingly bright
Then, from behind them, they heard their names. "Marlie! Harry! Ron! Hermione!" They turned, eyes landing on Seamus in front of his own shamrock-covered tent, beside him was a sandy-haired woman struggling to light a fire and emerging from the flaps behind Seamus was none other than Dean Thomas.
A smile was instantly on Marlie's face, and she was quicker than others to reach the tent, promptly flinging her arms around Dean's neck, pushed up on her tiptoes to do so (he had gotten evener taller since she last saw him).
"Great." Ron mumbled, echoing Harry's thoughts and the both of them being elbowed by Hermione as they followed Marlie over.
"Like the decorations?" Seamus was asking, a grin on his face as he looked from the Potter girl greeting his best friend to her brother and best friends. "The Ministry's not too happy."
"Ah, why shouldn't we show our colors?" Mrs Finnigan questioned. "You should see what the Bulgarians have got dangling all over their tents. You'll be supporting Ireland, of course?" She added, eyeing Harry, Ron, and Hermione beadily and glanced over to Marlie, who barely even thought about it as she nodded, feet landing back on the ground.
"I didn't know you were coming." Dean looked between the twins, trying to ignore that Marlie's arms were still around his neck, the smile on her face seeming to have grown prettier over the summer. "You didn't mention it in your letters?"
"We came with Ron and the rest of his family. They wrote to the Dursleys - who were desperate to get rid of us even if we were going to join 'our kind' -" Marlie rolled her eyes, "-and turned up in their fireplace. Fred gave Dudley a sweet that turned his tongue four-feet long, and here we are."
"I can never expect anything less exciting, can I?" Dean leaned a little closer. "Although you might want to move your arms before your brother and Ron attack me."
"Good point." Marlie's arms slid away. "I don't think anyone would be too happy if we're like this for any longer, so I think I might have to go?"
"Yeah.. Ron doesn't look impressed... or Seamus"
"It's fine, we'll be going back to Hogwarts in a couple of weeks and then they can shove their noses somewhere else - out of our business." Marlie smiled, stepping away. "Enjoy the match!" She waved at them all and returned to her three friends, pushing the back of Harry and Ron's backs when they didn't move.
They continued towards the tap, both Ron and Harry remaining silent as Hermione and Marlie stood a little back from them, the Potter girl giving her a quick overview of everything that had been exchanged in those letters.
"Like we'd say anything else surrounded by that lot." Ron suddenly announced, Marlie and Hermione looked up and taking a couple quick strides to catch up to the two boys. "They're nutters - Seamus' mum looked like she would sever our heads and serve them on platters like at Nearly-Headless Nick's shitty party."
"I'm sure she wouldn't have. Although Seamus might have slipped one of his exploding potions into our pumpkin juices." Hermione frowned. "They were all rather.. excessive. Of course the Ministry wasn't happy about all the shamrocks."
"I think old Mr Robert would have a field day if he dared walk past the peacocks." Harry's eyebrows darted upwards. "Reckon that was Malfoy's tent? Heard him complaining about some peacocks when he got attacked by Buckbeak."
"Matches their hair as well." Marlie had barely thought about that entire situation of the summer. Of course there were questions about the Hippogriff, but thinking about Malfoy made her think about the Dementors and then about the strange encounter after jealousy that Harry had heard their father and she hadn't. "Pompous prats." She shook the thoughts away. "Should we go see what the Bulgarians have on their tents?"
"Let's go and have a look," said Harry, pointing to a large patch of tents upheld, where the Bulgarian flag - white, green, and red horizontal bands of colour - was fluttering in the breeze.
The tents here had not been be decked 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.
"What?" asked Hermione.
"Krum!" Ron exlaimed. "Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker!"
"He looks really grumpy," said Hermione, looking around at the many Krums blinking and scowling at them.
"He looks really fit." Marlie examined the poster further. "Who cares about grumpy when you look like that."
"Shush, you sound like that girl we caught Dudley's friends hanging around that time." Harry shook his head. "And what would Dean say if he heard that."
Marlie's cheeks flooded with heat for just a moment before lifting her chin. "I'm guessing he could probably admire it as well. If he got away from the Irish for a bit."
"'Really grumpy'?" Ron was saying, his eyebrows raised. "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."
There was already a small queue for the tap in the corner of the field and Marlie, Harry, Ron, and Hermione joined it, right behind a pair of men who were having a heated argument. One of them was a very old wizard who was wearing a long flowery nightgown. The other was clearly a Ministry wizard; he was holding out a pair of pinstriped trousers and almost crying with exasperation about how he couldn't wear the nightgown even if he had bought it in a muggle shop.
"I'm not putting them on," The old man - Archie - huffed in indignation. "I like a healthy breeze 'round my privates, thanks."
Hermione was overcome with such a strong fit of the giggles at this point that she had to duck out of the queue and only returned when Archie had collected his water and moved away. Walking more slowly now, because of the weight of the water, they made their way back through the campsite. Here and there, they saw more familiar faces: other Hogwarts students with theirfamilies.
"Harry! Marlie!" Shouts from the all-too familar voice of Oliver Wood. "Perfect - quick, come meet my parents, my dad is dying to meet you two - loves Quidditch just as much as I do and has heard all about your skills."
"Oliver - hi. Lovely to see you too, good summer?" Marlie sounded amused as they were pulled away from Ron and Hermione. "Mr and Mrs Wood, I presume?" Harry nudged her, and she decided to tone down on the perfectly arranged smile as she held out her hands, greeting them.
"And you must be Marlie and Harry. We've heard a lot about you - more than just your usual stuff." Mr Wood, a rather large, burly man smiled down at them, eyes flickering over to their shared scars. "I used to play myself, you know."
"He got hit with bludgers one too many times." Mrs Wood smiled at this side. "Marlie, I've heard about your little stunts - the one where you let go of the broom, oh I could never! But you must have incredible core strength, I teach some pilates and yoga, and they could do wonders for it."
"Mum!" Oliver groaned, but the situation with Harry was similar, his dad making all sorts of fuss about Harry's seeker skills, talking about how much of a shame it was when they lost that match to Hufflepuff. "I only really wanted to say how I've been signed to Puddlemere United's reserve team."
"Oh that's great Oliver." Harry grinned. "They're lucky to get someone so dedicated."
"I'll put in a good word for you two if either of you decide to go professional with it after Hogwarts... although I could see you getting a few offers with the Holyhead Harpies." Oliver looked thoughtfully at Marlie. "I know someone there if you'd like me to-"
"It'd be nice if I can just get to my O.W.Ls year?" Marlie interjected. "But I can't think of doing anything better so.."
"Perfect!" Oliver exploded, clapping the girl on the back. Before he could descend into anymore chatter, Ron began to complain rather loudly about how heavy the water was and Harry and Marlie slipped away.
"Thanks for that." Harry nodded, taking his couple of containers back, Marlie doing the same.
"'t's fine." Ron grunted as the weight in his arm decreased. "He looked like he was going to try scout you both on the spot, run off and go find Luke Willis - captain of Puddlemere - any second. Ginny might go crazy if you actually got onto the Harpies though."
"I would go crazy if I got onto any league team." Marlie smiled. "Imagine that.. professional Quidditch." That was a thought and it seemed to make sense. But alas, she was only at the very beginnings of her fourth year and shouldn't think quite that far ahead.
Other than Oliver, the four saw several other Hogwarts students on their journey back to the tent. Ernie Macmillian, a Hufflepuff in the same year as them and a little farther on they saw Cho Chang, a very pretty girl who played Seeker on the Ravenclaw team. She waved and smiled at Harry, who slopped quite a lot of water down his front as he waved back. More to stop Marlie and Ron from smirking and sharing knowing glances than anything, Harry hurriedly pointed out a large group of teenagers whom he had never seen before.
"Who d'you reckon they are?" he said. "They don't go to Hogwarts, do they?"
" 'Spect they go to some foreign school," Ron replied. "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."
They laughed, but the twins could help but marvel at the idea of other wizarding schools. It was like actual proof of just how big the wizarding world was. They had barely seen any of it, really.
And thoughts of overseas wizard communities and the idea of professional Quidditch stayed on Marlie's mind as they continued their trek across the field and back to the tent.
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a/n
i really want to establish just
how good marlie is at quidditch during
the chapters were i can get it in
so that things dont come as a
surprise later on.