Over the next week and a half Rhiannon, Dudley and Luna all managed to get most of their belongings together, so by the time the 15th of August rolled around they were all ready and raring to go. They slept on the couches in the living room the night before and talked until it was late, and by the next morning they were all soundly asleep when someone knocked on the door at an ungodly hour.
Rhiannon shot upright, disturbing Cheshire and Hope who were curled up together on her stomach, and fumbled for her glasses to avoid tripping over her own cat who had taken up residence on the floor in front of the couch, then staggered to the door trying to avoid tripping over anything else. It really was too bloody early for this, she grumbled internally – it wasn’t even light out yet! “Yeah?” she asked grumpily as she opened the door.
Outside the door stood a mad pack of Weasleys, far too awake for the pre-dawn hour and all bouncing on the balls of their feet in the brisk air – it might have been summer, but England was never very warm and certainly not before the sun came up. Rhiannon just blinked at them owlishly, not quite putting the pieces together, and half-considered telling them to come back later before slamming the door. Then all at once she remembered what day it was, and a broad grin spread over her face as she limped back out of the way of the door and let them in. “Oi! Dudley, Luna!” she called. Luna grumbled and turned over in his sleep, Dudley’s nose twitched. They both tended to be terribly heavy sleepers, and Rhiannon sighed wearily.
It was time for desperate measures. She limped over to the couch and flopped down on top of Dudley, tickling him and prodding him around the face and neck as he snored and twitched, being all of the annoying little sister she’d never gotten to be until he woke up all at once and his forehead smacked into hers as he shot upright. “Ow!” he wheezed, rubbing his face sleepily as Rhiannon toppled off the couch and hid the floor heavily. “Wha- Rhiannon, jesus!” he protested. Then he realised they had company, and shoved his blankets off hurriedly and sat up, blinking furiously as if that would wake him faster.
“Still not forgiven,” Dudley told Rhiannon grumpily, as the Weasleys fell about laughing and Rhiannon picked herself up off the floor with her hair in disarray. “Why am I awake? Why are you awake – what bloody time even is it? I don’t even care, it’s too bloody early,”
“It’s just about exactly four,” Ginny supplied helpfully, snickering to herself. “Has anybody ever told you your leg twitches when you’re sleeping?”
Dudley flushed and puffed up a little indignantly. “Well I’m sorry my leg twitches, all the bone and nerves in my hip did get crushed you know,” he retorted sharply.
Ginny blushed deeply and shook her head hurriedly, waving her hands for emphasis. “No, no – not that leg! It’s the other leg, I meant it was – like the dog thing, it’s cute – goddamnit, I’m sorry, I forgot,” she spluttered, mortified.
Luna stretched and yawned as they sat up, awoken by the chatter. Clearly ze’d heard the last few bits of conversation, because ve turned to Dudley and blinked sleepily. “I agree it’s much too early for me, but aren’t you werewolves crepuscular?” she asked curiously.
Dudley seized a pillow from the couch and lobbed it across the room, striking Luna squarely in the chest as he scowled at xem. “For the record, I do know what that means but it’s also too bloody early for science talk,” he told faer crankily. “It’s not gonna be even near dawn for another hour yet so thanks but no – we’re also functional carnivores and need our rest.”
Mr. Weasley snorted to himself, clearly amused. “Well, as interesting as this is – and truly, I’d love to pick it up at a later time – are you ready to go, or do you need to get changed? Because we’ve got maybe another hour and a half to make that Portkey, your godfathers are meeting us there.” he told them all.
Rhiannon looked down at herself – a t-shirt and jeans, with a pair of boots by the front door and the leather jacket Sirius had given her for her birthday hung over the arm of the couch, she remembered they’d all slept in their clothes to make things easier. “Y-yeah we’re good,” she replied. “Just, can someone chuck me my shoes? By the door there,” she asked, then as George grabbed her boots she put her hands up with a wince. “N-n-n-no, don’t actually chuck them, that’s – please jus-s-s-st pass them over,” she added hastily. George cackled and mimed lobbing the footwear across the room before he crossed the room himself to hand them over, while Luna and Dudley got themselves ready. Rhiannon grimaced as she caught a glimpse of herself in the polished metal of a button, realising that in her sleep her mental hold on the glamours had come off. All the Weasleys knew perfectly well what she looked like first thing in the morning, but she couldn’t say the same of the thousands who would be at the Quidditch Cup.
“And, uh – gimme a minute in the bathroom,” Rhiannon added awkwardly. Niniane shoved herself out from behind her brothers, and Rhiannon had to repress a laugh on seeing her friend’s hair done in two childish braided pigtails.
“Not, a, word,” Nina told Rhiannon firmly, though she herself couldn’t quite hide her smile. “I’ve roomed with you long enough to know the spells, lemme do it, it’s faster,”
Rhiannon nodded cautious agreement, and Nina withdrew a familiar deep brown wand with an almost black grain, one Rhiannon hadn’t seen in quite some time. “Is that..?” she asked, genuinely curious.
Nina laughed, genuinely amused as she settled herself on the edge of the couch. “My old wand? Oh yeah. It was Ginny’s idea to try using it again, she remembered old Ollivander asking me if I was sure it was working for me. Funny enough, it works just fine, and we did some reading – black walnut doesn’t like working for owners who’re lying to themselves. Even an inanimate object knew!” she explained, still snickering. Rhiannon giggled, until Nina took her firmly by the chin. “Don’t wanna put your eye out, hold still,” she grumbled.
Rhiannon felt the familiar cool sensation as the magic spread over her skin, and she shook herself as Nina leaned away to give her space. It was a little uncomfortable, like wearing a second skin over her own, and Rhiannon couldn’t help longing for the day she didn’t need the glamours anymore.
“Alright, now we’re good to go,” Nina told her father cheerfully. Dudley lurched to his feet and windmilled a little before finding his balance, always a difficult endeavour – as he had so bluntly told Ginny, the bite he had sustained in the attack had done a lot of damage to his pelvis and femur so he had a lot more trouble walking on two legs than Rhiannon or Remus did.
And with that, the mad pack of Weasleys picked up their Lovegood companions and they left the house in a manner not unlike a hurricane moving on, with Arthur and the twins setting a brisk pace over the moorlands. Dudley, who had struggled enough just to get on two feet let alone speed-walk across uneven terrain, was soon lagging behind and even at nearly new moon Rhiannon herself was having trouble. “Could-d-d-d-d-dn’t we just, ‘ave t-t-taken the Portkey from our house?” she panted.
Arthur, a few paces ahead, looked utterly scandalised as she drew level with him. “Just – take – a Portkey? Do you even know the sort of fines they impose for unregistered Portkeys? No, I suppose you don’t – just, don’t mention that in public. Or at all, preferably. Never know who’d dob you in to the Ministry for that.” he cautioned her.
Rhiannon growled irritably, she’d forgotten it was technically illegal. Well, definitely illegal. Which made her foster-father a regular petty criminal. Pffffff. Still... “Al-l-l-l-l-right but, Dudley can’t keep up,” she replied with an anxious look back at her brother. “That leg p-p-p-p-p-pret-t-t-t-ty much doesn’t touch the ground when he’s on four legs, there’s got t’ be a better way,”
Mr. Weasley held up his hand for a halt and Dudley promptly collapsed to the ground in exhaustion. Mr. Weasley looked over the rest of them and clearly came to a conclusion, already shaking his head as he considered them. “Fred and George don’t have their Apparition licenses, and Bill and Charlie are meeting us at the campsite, I can’t just... no, that’s right, Amos failed his Side-Along... well, Dudley, how much do you like your dignity?” he asked, turning to the panting teenager.
Dudley pushed himself off the ground long enough to glare at Mr. Weasley, before he flopped back down again with a groan as his shoulder gave out. “How dignified do I look now?” he asked, his voice muffled by the grass. Ginny snorted and patted his shoulder sympathetically.
“Well in that case, I suppose levitation would work – it’ll just look rather silly if you’re bobbing along in the air beside us.” Mr. Weasley offered apologetically.
Dudley rolled over onto his back and propped himself up on his elbows. “Silly beats pain,” he grunted, the faintest edge of a high-pitched whine just audible in his breath to Rhiannon’s sensitive hearing.
“Er, very well. I – apologise in advance,” Mr. Weasley said. “Levicorpus,”
With that incantation, Dudley was jerked up into the air and bobbed at about an adult’s chest height, as if seated on the air itself. It did look ridiculous, just as Mr. Weasley had suggested, but after the initial shock the ease in Dudley’s demeanour was painfully obvious. Mr. Weasley sighed and shook his head. “I’m terribly sorry. I’ve only ever seen you sort of, managing I suppose, I guess I forgot that would change over harder terrain,” he apologised. “Would it be possible to get, I don’t know, I’ve seen sort of wheelchairs that operate on similar magical technology to broomsticks? I mean, if it’s that hard to walk – I can see how it’d be much easier on four legs but on two, well, the human – or humanish – body isn’t exactly well-designed.”
Both Dudley and Rhiannon laughed at that, at first in genuine amusement at Arthur’s astute point about the human body but then tiredly, at the naivety of his question. “Mr. Weasley, sir... Those cost a lot of money. Easily five times the cost of Rhiannon’s Firebolt unless you can get it funded – which I won’t, because I can technically walk. And in terms of the magical world, I also kind of don’t exist. Legally Rhiannon’s vault at Gringotts is registered to her, not to me, she’s not obliged to help me – she just does because, family. There might be enough money in the vault for that, maybe, but Rhi couldn’t even take out a transaction of that size ‘til she’s seventeen without parental consent – parental, mind, Xen doesn’t count because the Ministry would decide he was exploiting us for the money. So yeah, I’d love one of those wheelchairs but, you know.” he explained, gesturing irritably with his hands as he spoke.
Mr. Weasley reddened, his eartips turning scarlet just as Nina’s did when she was angry. “It costs – that much – for a basic necessity?” he spluttered. “I mean, you know we’re not exactly well off but – how can you charge for something like that?”
“Very easily, ap-p-p-p-parently,” Rhiannon grumbled. “You know it cos-s-s-s-sts – about three times as much to get ‘mione’s books in Braille? And it’s easily a hundred p-p-p-pounds for when she needs a probing cane. If p-p-p-people c-can’t live with-h-h- without something, th-the people know they’ll pay m-m-more for it so... you know.” she said with a jaded shrug.
Mr. Weasley spluttered angrily about that as they walked, while the younger Weasleys were a little more familiar with the ridiculous state of what Hermione had gotten them all sardonically calling the ‘cripple tax’ and grumbled along with Dudley and Rhiannon. A bit of cathartic complaining got the time going quicker, and the sun had begun to rise by the time they reached the top of a hill clearly marked out by magic. At the very crest of the hill was the mankiest old boot Rhiannon had ever laid eyes on, it even smelled used and she wrinkled her nose in disgust.
“S-so as-needed Portkeys are illegal, but b-b-b-biohazards aren’t?” Rhiannon complained, though not loud enough anyone outside their little huddle could have heard her. Dudley began to laugh so hard he sneezed, while Luna cackled and hugged Rhiannon around the waist, lifting her off her feet a few inches while their chest and arms shook with mirth. “Oi! Put- put me down! I’m short, not a toddler,” she protested, swatting at their arms ineffectively. Eventually Luna relented and Rhiannon almost fell over as she regained her footing, which only set Luna, her brother and the Weasleys off laughing again.
“Good to see you all in such high spirits,” a low voice said by way of greeting, and Rhiannon whirled around, instinctively raising her hands to defend herself before she recognised if not the speaker then at least his companion.
“Amos,” Mr. Weasley replied, his voice uncharacteristically tense.
While the adults were occupied with their very formal human rituals of mutual dislike, Niniane leaned over behind Luna to whisper in Rhiannon’s ear. “He works in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, so he can be a real prick about werewolves. Don’t say anything off.” she hissed. Rhiannon grimaced and struggled to restrain a growl – that would be the very definition of off.
Cedric was far more welcoming than his father, and strode forward to shake Rhiannon’s hand before tugging her into a hug. “Hey, Potter,” he greeted her with a grin. “Heard you’re in Hufflepuff this year – can’t wait to try you out for the Quidditch team, I’ve always been better at Chasing anyway.”
Rhiannon blushed and stammered awkwardly, while the twins snickered – Fred at least had been witness to her mortifying crush on Cedric Diggory more than once. “I- I – that- yeah, th-t-t-that – would be cool,” she managed, barely meeting his eyes – such a warm shade of brown in the early morning sunlight – for a moment as she shuffled her feet and fidgeted in place.
“Potter, Harry Potter?” Amos Diggory asked, diverted from his discussion with Mr. Weasley by the sound of Rhiannon’s surname.
Rhiannon’s heart sank, but she pulled herself up firmly – she had a way to handle this. “No – I’m Rhiannon P-p-potter, sir, p’raps you’re thinking of-f-f Harry Pace? They’re m-my friend, easy mis-s-s-stake,” she replied, a little mischievous smirk curling up the corners of her mouth. “And- and there’s my brother D-d-d-Dudley, and Luna, who’s – my – we live together.”
Amos Diggory blinked, baffled, before he seemed to remember and muttered to himself about ‘kids these days, changing names like clothes’ or some such. At Rhiannon’s mention of Dudley, he seemed to finally notice the teenager bobbing about in midair and snorted to himself. “Dudley, hm? Perhaps you could use the exercise, lad, then you wouldn’t need the lift... You getting soft, Arthur? It was a right hike out here but I mean, if we can all manage it, then...”
Rhiannon had already been on edge when Nina told her that Amos where worked, but now she understood Mr. Weasley’s stiff dislike intimately. Hatred wasn’t an unfamiliar concept to her, but this wasn’t even that – it was just plain distaste. She didn’t like how he spoke to her, to her brother, even to Mr. Weasley and she drew herself up to her full five feet of height, quivering with repressed irritation. “Th-that’s not very polite, sir,” she told him sharply. “My b-b-b-brother’s got an injury tha-a-a-a-at n-never healed right, y-you can’t always see stuff.”
Some of the wind went out of Amos Diggory’s sails, and Arthur let Dudley float back to the ground where Ginny and George steadied him – evidently he’d forgotten to undo the levitation charm. Cedric looked embarrassed by his father and leaned in to shake Dudley’s hand as well, shaking his head. “Yeah, Dudley’s been in Hufflepuff for a couple years, Dad,” he told his father reproachfully. “He’s got a terrible limp, have to help with the stairs sometimes,”
Amos Diggory peered more closely at Dudley, and Rhiannon thought she saw the light of suspicion in his hawkish brown gaze. “That’s some injury for a kid, how’d you do it?” he inquired. Dudley looked very much as if trapped in headlights, and for once it was Rhiannon’s turn to rescue him.
“Uh, d-d-d-dog b-bite,” she stammered hastily, wilting a little under Amos Diggory’s scrutiny. “We, h-had it pretty b-bad before we got put with Xen, see?” she added, rolling up her sleeve a little to show one of the many silver-pinkish bite scars on her forearm – Rhiannon always let them through the glamours since they were so old and easily explained. “C-can do a lot of damage, um, dog jaws,”
Amos harrumphed, clearly dissatisfied, but he didn’t question them further. As Rhiannon turned away to grumble to Ginny and her brother, there was a sharp crack and two figures Apparated into the empty space beside Arthur Weasley and Amos Diggory, startling them. As the light cleared, Sirius waved jauntily to them while Remus cautiously took in their companions and scowled when his gaze fell on Amos. Sirius’ smile turned brittle around the edges and he adjusted his grip on Remus’ arm pointedly. “Arthur, thanks for inviting us,” he greeted Mr. Weasley with a smile. “And... Amos, good day. Taking a break from arresting werewolves working bar jobs?”
Amos bristled, and he would have flown at Sirius then and there had Remus not firmly stepped between them, the faintest trace of a growl rumbling in his chest. “Sirius, knock it off,” he told his partner firmly. “I appreciate you defending my honour and all, but it’s really not the time or place.”
Sirius grumbled, but Remus was unrelenting and the two of them eventually retreated, putting the rest of the Weasleys between them and the Diggorys. By now Cedric looked supremely uncomfortable, and Rhiannon couldn’t help wondering – if that was the field his father worked in, did he already know about her? He’d certainly have a base knowledge of what lycanthropy looked like outside of the transformation... and going by the expression on his face and his body language, he didn’t exactly approve of his father’s profession. In fact, he looked a little like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole, and she couldn’t help but feel a little bad for him stuck on the edge of the conflict.
“S-s-s-so uh, that b-biohazard’s our Portkey, right?” Rhiannon asked rhetorically, jabbing her cane in the direction of the mouldering boot. “It’s-s-s-ssss- it’s g-g-g-got to be f-f-five thirty now or a moment off, d’ – d’we w-w-want to all, grab it or however it works?”
Cedric turned a grateful smile on her and nodded. “Yeah, we all have to be holding it when it’s time to leave and that’s in... yeah, a minute. Oi! Everyone grab on!” he said, pitching his voice louder to carry over the muttering and bickering of their mixed group. “Yes, it’s disgusting, but pick a bit and hold on tight, if you can’t reach hold onto the person next to you and that’ll be good enough.”
Rhiannon found herself smushed up under Cedric’s arm as everyone converged on the mouldy boot, and while she’d had a good grip on the boot at first, she was squashed out by the twins and eventually ended up with her toes barely touching the ground, wriggling to stay balanced. Cedric sighed, and looped his arm through hers. “You’re a Hufflepuff, you’re kinda my responsibility too now – prefect and all that. Hang on tight and make sure you’ve got a deep breath. Alright, everyone got a hold?” he said, then again pitched the question to the rest of the group. Not everyone did, and they hurriedly re-sorted themselves so everyone was holding either the boot or another person nearer the boot. Rhiannon wrinkled her nose as the faint smell of ozone portal magic, previously dampened by the very used stench of the boot, intensified and she felt her muscles tense in anticipation of the pull. She couldn’t quite predict it as accurately as one of her foster-father’s portkeys but she was ready enough as the biting smell drowned out the rest of her senses, the very air seemed to crackle with energy, and then all of them were whirling through the in-between-space.
It felt as if they were trapped in the airless whirling colour haze for hours, though Rhiannon knew it was only moments until they were spat out onto the grey-shaded, rolling hillsides of what Rhiannon recognised belatedly to be the Dartmoor National Park. Rhiannon picked herself up out of the pile of people and began to laugh helplessly. “This is – less than a hundred kilometres away!” she exclaimed, giggling as she helped Dudley to his feet. “All-l-l-l- all that fuss, and we’re j-just in the next county over!”
Dudley groaned and shook out his bad leg, his knee clunking around nastily as he did so. “Can we drive next time? Please?” he begged Mr. Weasley, who just looked plain embarrassed.
“I’m going to be honest here, my grasp of geography isn’t brilliant. So I knew the final was being held in the region of Dartmoor, but where that is in relation to where we live, well, not my field of expertise.” Mr Weasley replied, embarrassed. “You’re right – if there’s a next time, we can just drive – well, as many of us as fit in the car can.”
The rest of their group picked themselves up in bits, and Cedric waved an awkward farewell as he hurried off to catch up with his father, who left without even a cursory good-bye. Mr. Weasley, Sirius and Remus all sighed with relief as he left, and Mr. Weasley turned to the rest of the group. “Alright, I’ve got everyone’s entry tickets. We’ve got two tents, one for us adults so we can actually get some sleep and one for you lot, and we’ve got to sign in so there’s a register of everyone here before they’ll let us into the campground. Line for that starts... over there.” he explained, wilting a little as he saw the end of the line just a short way ahead of them, stretching over a low hillock and down out of sight.
Ginny grimaced, then looked up at the sky. “Sure you don’t want to just, go home? That’s a hell of a line and I’m pretty sure it’s going to piss down tomorrow.” she commented. Dudley rubbed his bad hip grumpily and nodded agreement, and even Rhiannon noticed a sullen ache in her shoulder.
Mr. Weasley sighed. “If it ‘pisses down’, as you so delightfully called it, we’ll just prop the campsite up a little higher, the tents are already Impervius’ed,” he replied, raising an eyebrow at Ginny’s language. “We’ve got the site for the Cup, they won’t charge us extra if it gets budged over a day or so.”
They stood in the line for a good two hours, inching forward slowly, until the sun had risen fully and finally the Weasley crowd huddled around a pop-up desk tended by two wizards dressed in Muggle attire, although inexpertly – one was wearing a wonderfully tailored suit about two hundred years out of date, the other a linen shirt and kilt with a length of tartan cloth over his chest. “Arthur!” the kilted wizard greeted Mr. Weasley enthusiastically, though both of them looked decidedly worn already. “Sprouted some extra ones, did ye? Yeah, portkey in the box o’er there, you know the drill.” he told Mr. Weasley cheerfully.
Mr. Weasley sighed in a long-suffering sort of way and lobbed the mouldy boot under the pop-up table as he shook his head. “Basil, you always say that whenever I’ve got my kids’ friends with me,” he grumbled, though unlike with Amos Diggory it seemed good-humoured. “No, this is Luna Lovegood, Dudley Dursley and Rhiannon Potter, along with my own friends Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, they’ll be camping with us. Which will be... where, exactly?”
The wizard in the tailored suit stared at Rhiannon until she shrank back behind the comfortingly solid wall that was the twins, while the kilted wizard – Basil – carried right on with his task after a brief pause and moment of uncomfortable staring as well. “Oh, that. Weasleys... First field about a quarter mile that way,,” he told Arthur, gesturing back over his shoulder. “Grounds’ manager by the name o’ Mr. Roberts – chap’s a Muggle so go easy on ‘im, mask yer magic on the site, you know the drill. He’ll have your site number t’ hand. Oh and, keep yer werewolf on a leash,” he added, with a sideways scowl at Remus. Sirius growled and Arthur’s ears flushed a telltale red, but nobody did more than glare – if they were to rock the boat here, Remus could be in serious trouble.
“It’s new moon tomorrow, Basil,” Arthur told his colleague scathingly, as he scribbled in the registration sheet and accepted a handful of papers in return. “Open a calendar sometime. Be seeing you,” he finished, and beckoned the small herd of Weasleys both biological and honorary on as they set off in the direction Basil had indicated.
Rhiannon longed for her four-legged form as she limped across the hillside with the rest of the Weasleys. Dartmoor was a beautiful region, just the sort of place she’d have loved to run across as a wolf, but here in human shape she felt clumsy and couldn’t quite keep from tripping on the uneven ground every few steps. By the time they reached their campsite she was worn-out and crabby from exertion, and thoroughly ready to nap – it was a good thing the game wasn’t until tomorrow. Finally, they reached the camp-ground – isolated by tall hedges from several others along the narrow gravel road, presumably a single campground had been too small so they’d had to take over several for the Cup. There was a faded red gazebo-type tent set up at the entrance to the camping ground itself, and an olive-skinned man was napping in a camp chair just inside. At a glance Rhiannon guessed him to be either Muggle-born or a Muggle simply by his state of dress, which would make him the aforementioned Mr. Roberts.
Mr. Weasley stepped forward, evidently planning to attempt to wake the man quietly, when a clamour rose up around the entrance to the campsite and an elderly wizard stomped out the gate wearing a flowery nightgown that flapped around his shins in the breeze. He was barefoot, and a very harried-looking man in Ministry teal robes strode after him. “Archie, you know the rules about dress code,” he told the elderly man in a snappish sort of tone, startling the sleeping Mr. Roberts from his armchair.
“Muggles wear these!” the elderly wizard, evidently Archie, protested obstinately. “I wear robes at home, I’m going t’ wear robes here thankyou very much and if this is the nearest you’ve got, that’s what I’ll wear!”
The elderly nightgowned wizard and the harried Ministry worker carried on past them while Rhiannon snickered to herself, amused, but by now Mr. Roberts – at least, who they presumed to be Mr. Roberts – had awoken from his nap and he looked a little bewildered as he startled into wakefulness. “Oh, there’s more of you,” he said in a weary tone. “Too early for so many sign-ins... real weird it is, I barely ever get visitors and now the place is booked out? And all seem to know eachother, it’s like one big party in there... Ah, nevermind, what’s your-”
Mr. Roberts was cut off as another wizard in Ministry teal popped up from behind the tent and levelled his wand at the Muggle man’s forehead. “Obliviate!” he incanted sharply. Mr. Roberts’ eyes slid out of focus and Rhiannon recognised the incantation as that to modify a person’s memory. Mr. Roberts looked decidedly dazed as he handed over a map to the campsite, and Rhiannon exchanged perturbed looks with her godfathers and the younger Weasleys behind Mr. Weasley’s back. On some level Rhiannon supposed she’d always known wizards modified the memories of their nonmagical neighbours to keep the great secret of magic’s existence, but it just seemed so wrong, invasive on a fundamental level, and she shuddered as George pulled her away and into the campground itself.
All too soon, Rhiannon’s discomfort at the casual invasion of somebody’s mind was overridden by the sheer welter of noise and colour inside the camp-ground. No wonder they were having to modify memories to keep the secret, if this was what was inside. The tents were a riot of colour, green white and gold on one side, green white and red on the other, and everywhere were symbols of the teams – unfamiliar creatures Rhiannon didn’t have the attention span to recognise, moving images of the players hung all around, greenery growing wild over some tents and at one point Rhiannon even bumped into an enormous black horse with golden eyes. It snorted disdainfully at her and carried on its way through the camp, seemingly unattended, and Rhiannon stumbled in circles only kept on track by Luna’s grasp in an effort to simultaneously take all of it in and keep it from overwhelming her entirely.
“Rhi,” Luna said in Rhiannon’s ear, startlingly loud, and Rhiannon blinked owlishly as she realised her friend had been trying to get her attention for some time. “You’re twitching, do you need me to put your ear jinx on?”
Rhiannon nodded mutely, and immediately relaxed a little as the clamour around her dimmed to a more manageable level. She’d obviously forgotten to dull her senses that morning, and suspected she’d pay the price with a headache by the end of the day.
“We’re here,” Mr Weasley announced, gesturing grandly to where two plain, triangular canvas tents stood side by side on an unadorned strip of grass, which stood out amongst its’ heavily decorated neighbours. Rhiannon raised an eyebrow, wondering how they’d all fit, until she remembered wizards could extend spaces beyond what their exteriors appeared capable of.
A tall man of perhaps twenty or twenty-one, with long ginger hair tied loosely into a ponytail that fell over one shoulder and dark brown eyes like Ginny’s, though more similar in shape to Nina’s, stooped as he left one of the tents and grinned broadly as he caught sight of them. “Dad! Ah, all of you, it’s great to see you!” he greeted them enthusiastically, and strode forward to sweep each member of his family – for he had to be a Weasley – into a hug one by one. When he got to Niniane he ruffled her hair and tweaked her nose, beaming. “Glad you figured yourself out, little sis,” he added, before he turned and gestured to Rhiannon and the other non-Weasleys.
“I’m William, but everyone calls me Bill,” he told them, striding forward to shake Remus and Sirius’ hands in greeting. “Charlie’s off chasing somebody’s Crup that got loose, he’ll be back later. Fred, George, get outta there – you’re in with the adults. No, not ‘cos you are one – so we can stop you blowing the place up.” he added, gesturing to the twins who had begun to creep off into the other tent. “You younger lot are in the other tent, and we know you’re not total idiots without their influence so you’ll probably not set fire to anything unless Nina decides to make toast. Go on, sort your stuff out, settle in and whatever – we’ll come give you the heads-up if there’s any emergencies or changes.”
Nina stuck her tongue out at her older brother and lunged to swat him on the arm, but he darted away and she very nearly fell flat, stumbling clumsily instead while the others laughed. Bill shooed her away, and she found her footing again and beckoned the others to follow as she let the way into the other tent that Bill had indicated was theirs to use.
The inside was more marvelous than Rhiannon could have imagined – more like a cozy, comfortable several-roomed apartment than a tent, with a kitchenette and a door that presumably led to the bathroom. She wrinkled her nose, taking in the smells – a bit musty, but not major, that wasn’t what had drawn her attention. No, she’d found a familiar scent amongst the welter of dust and animal scents, and her face split in a broad grin as she realised who it was.
A head with coily black hair done in braids poked out of the bathroom, and Rhiannon’s heart leapt as she recognised the slightly-crooked smile and the smudged gold-rimmed glasses – Hermione. Hermione squealed and dashed out of the bathroom towards them, hands flapping excitedly. In her excitement, Hermione forgot to slow and knocked Rhiannon and Luna flat to the ground in a bear-hug, positively vibrating with happiness even as the other two wheezed for breath amid their other friends’ gales of laughter. Hermione pulled Rhiannon into a sitting position and squashed her firmly in a hug, both girls’ glasses knocked askew and neither caring.
“N-n-n-obody told me you were coming!” Rhiannon exclaimed, still hugging Hermione tightly. “I – I can’t-t-t-t b-believe I almost missed a chance to see you!”
