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HP Chapter 69: The Tent
🕑 Added 2025-09-03 15:19:03 +0000 UTCIn the passenger seat, Anne’s head bobbed gently with the motion of the car. Her eyes were closed, she still seemed to be asleep. In the driver’s seat, Aaron focused on keeping the ride as smooth as possible.
By the time they reached their destination, the sky on the horizon had only just begun to lighten.
“Anne?” Aaron gently shook her. “Wake up a bit, I’ll take you to the tent so you can keep sleeping.”
“Mm…” Anne fumbled with the seatbelt and unclasped it, taking Aaron’s hand without even opening her eyes. She didn’t see the strange scene not far from them, thousands of oddly shaped tents sprawled across the sloping field, stretching all the way to a dark forest at the edge of the horizon.
Aaron led Anne through twists and turns until they reached an unremarkable green tent. But once he lifted the flap and stepped inside, the space opened up to something far more impressive: a modest, clean four-room setup with a living room, bathroom, and kitchen, all decorated in a simple modern style.
He guided her into one of the rooms. “Anne? This is your room. Go ahead and sleep. I’ve got to get to work.”
Anne squinted one eye open and gave a drowsy nod, mumbling something vaguely like “be safe” before kicking off her shoes and crawling straight into bed, burying herself under the covers.
Aaron chuckled and quietly stepped out of the tent.
Before the Quidditch World Cup began, the entire Ministry of Magic had been wound tight like a string, constantly on the move with preparations. Every employee had their own task, and as the newly promoted Deputy Director, it was no surprise Aaron had to be on site this early. After all, this tiny plot of land was about to host nearly 50,000 witches and wizards from all over the world.
Anne, of course, knew none of this, she was still fast asleep.
Eventually, the growing noise outside the tent woke her. She rolled around in bed for a good ten minutes, hugging her blanket and trying to ignore it, but the din only got louder.
With a groan, Anne tossed off her blanket. Sleep was out of the question now. She glanced at her watch. 7:21 AM.
“Next time, I’m buying a tent with better soundproofing, or I should learn the Muffliato Charm... although if I sleep too deeply, that could be dangerous…” she muttered as she slipped on her shoes.
The tent was empty. She wandered around a bit, the kitchen was bare, but she remembered Aaron had warned her about that the night before. She casually made her way to the living room, where she found a cardboard box sitting on the wooden table. Inside were bottles of mineral water, glass bottles of milk, loose bread rolls, and some snacks.
With a glass bottle of milk in one hand and a croissant in the other, Anne stepped out of the tent. The morning air was crisp and cool, filled with the scent of moisture and fresh grass.
She was met by a sea of green, many of the nearby tents were draped in thick layers of clover, and some flew Irish flags. The noise came from a long queue about twenty paces away; people stood in line with various water containers in hand. It was one of the two water collection points in the camp.
Arguments in different languages echoed from the line. Around it, young witches and wizards ran about. Anne even spotted one boy flying low on a toy broomstick.
A Ministry official in robes was patrolling the line, trying to mediate disputes. From time to time, adult wizards emerged from their tents to prepare breakfast, some sneakily lit fires with their wands, others struck matches with uncertain expressions.
Standing in front of her tent, Anne tried to recall the layout of the camp she had seen on the map the night before. She turned back to glance at her own tent, where a wooden sign read: Aaron Hall. She took a careful look at the nearby tents.
“I should be able to find my way back…” she murmured. She walked a few steps, then turned back inside. She finished off her milk in one gulp and placed the empty bottle on the table. With the half-eaten croissant still in her mouth, she grabbed another one wrapped in paper and stuffed it in her pocket before heading out again to wander.
But she hadn’t gone far before she heard a familiar voice.
“Hey! Anne!”
She turned around, sure enough, it was Hermione, with Ron and Harry beside her. The three of them were carrying a kettle and a pot, waving in her direction.
What were the odds…
As they approached, Anne mumbled around her croissant, “Morning. What are you guys doing?”
“Fetching water to boil,” Hermione replied. “Anne, are you here alone?”
“Oh, so it was for water…” That explained why she ran into them so quickly. Anne pointed toward a tall green tent that blocked the view of the water queue.
Swallowing the last bite of bread, she said, “I came with my uncle. He’s at work. If you walk past that tall tent, you’ll see a long line, that’s the water point. By the way, why boil water at all? Why not just use magic to light a fire and conjure clean water?”
“We already fetched the water,” Hermione said. “And Anne, during the World Cup, there are strict anti-Muggle security protocols.”
“No magic allowed,” Ron added.
“Really?” Anne said, popping the last bite of bread into her mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “I was too sleepy last night. Whatever my uncle said after that, I don’t remember…”
“Then what are you doing out here by yourself?” Harry asked.
Anne pulled out the second croissant from her pocket and tore open the wrapper. “Just wandering. It’s way too noisy over by the water point. I’ll walk with you guys.”
They walked out of the sea of green tents. Anne looked back. “So these are all Irish supporters… what about the Bulgarian ones? What do they have on their tents?”
“Over there,” Ron said, pointing toward a section of camp decked in white, green, and red. “We saw it on the way to fetch water!”
Hermione nodded, lifting the small kettle in her hand. “They’ve plastered the tents with the same posters.”
“They’re of Krum! Viktor Krum!” Ron said excitedly.
As they got closer, Anne saw that nearly every tent had the same animated poster: a close-up of a face with thick, dark eyebrows. The image moved but mostly just blinked or frowned.
Anne glanced at Hermione, then at the poster. Then back at Hermione. Again.
Hermione started to feel uneasy. “Anne, what is it?”
“So… that’s Krum? He looks kind of gloomy,” Anne said.
“You sound just like Hermione,” Ron rolled his eyes. “Too gloomy? A bit gloomy? Who cares what he looks like? He’s brilliant! Only eighteen and already a star. You’ll see tonight!”
“Mm, alright…” Anne said half-heartedly, eyeing the poster again.
Before she could comment more, a group of students passed by, students Anne didn’t recognize. Her attention immediately shifted.
“Their crest…” she said, stepping closer to Hermione. “Ilvermorny, right? The American magic school?”
“Yes, Thunderbird, Pukwudgie, Horned Serpent, and Wampus. Their house symbols are magical creatures, like Hogwarts,” Hermione replied quickly.
“So detailed, where’d you read that?” Anne asked.
Hermione immediately rattled off the name of the book, followed by several others that mentioned Ilvermorny.
They kept chatting as they walked, occasionally greeting other Gryffindors and witches and wizards from other countries. By the time they returned to the Weasley tent, Mr. Weasley was still struggling to light the fire.
Fred and George enthusiastically greeted Anne when they saw her. Ever since last night, Mrs. Weasley had been unusually kind to them. She even allowed them to build a tiny lab in the backyard, Anne’s suggestion, actually. They’d grown tired of secretly experimenting in their rooms.
Anne’s playful side emerged when she saw Mr. Weasley trying to light the fire. She ran over to help.
“You have to leave room under the wood for airflow, it’ll catch better,” she said, stuffing a burning wad of paper beneath the stacked logs. She grabbed a piece of cardboard to fan the flames.
Once the fire roared to life, Anne peeked at their food stash and ended up enjoying a hearty breakfast with the Weasleys.
Their tent sat beside one of the main paths, so Ministry officials passed by frequently. Mid-meal, Aaron came walking down the path with a tall man in a Quidditch robe and Diana.
From afar, Aaron spotted Anne crouched by the fire, munching on grilled meat. He quickly glanced at Diana, she was still deep in conversation with Bagman and hadn’t noticed Anne. He began making exaggerated facial expressions in Anne’s direction.
Hermione noticed and nudged Anne. “Your uncle’s here… and he looks a little weird.”
“Huh?” Anne turned and saw Aaron approaching, Diana beside him. She quickly shoved her meat skewer into Hermione’s hands. “Here, you take this,” she said, standing up.
“Wait!” Hermione took the skewer and fished a handkerchief from her pocket. “Anne, wipe your hands and mouth, quick!”
Anne froze for a beat, then took the handkerchief and quickly wiped herself clean. “Am I good? Anything left?” She tilted her head toward Hermione to let her check.
“You’re fine,” Hermione smiled.
Gratitude flickered in Anne’s amber eyes. She stood up straight, adjusted her clothes, and turned to face the approaching group.
