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Verity Carver was sick and tired of men. Men with their false sense of superiority who thought they could order her about because they were born with a penis. Men who thought they were gods for stamping out women's hearts. Just the voice of a stupid little man would have her blood boiling and bones crunching with a rage ancestral.
One day, all that rage and disgust was going to show. It would come forth from her mind and shout. Speak so loud that men may finally plead guilty of their crimes against women past, present and future.
But that day would not be today.
For today, the Carver family had been invited to attend the quidditch World Cup final. And as much as Verity wished the patriarchy to drown, it was going to have to wait. She would jokingly say that the sport was her one true love; men were useless really. The pure adrenaline and excitement it gave her, watching the players race on their brooms, was unmatched.
The only downsides being that she had to sleep in a tent with her father and sister. By all means, there was a high chance their tent was the most luxurious some people had ever seen, but that was not the point. Being in close quarters with her father was not going to end well. At least he had disappeared somewhere for the meantime.
"Where are you going?" Vivienne asked quietly, lifting her head up from a book. She was sat on one of the seats inside, intent on avoiding human interaction. Verity paused at the tents entrance, her fingers touching the gold material as she turned around to her sister.
"I want to find Camille before the game starts. You can join if you'd like?"Verity answered softly, yet already knowing the answer. Vivienne shook her head. The fourteen year old had never been fond of crowds.
"Father said he'd be back at midday." Verity picked up the nervous undertones in her sister's voice. The clock showed that it was only 10.30, plenty of time.
"I'll be back before he notices Viv, I promise."
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Perhaps Verity had underestimated her geographical abilities. The rows of tents seemed to go on for miles, and then the shopping stalls appeared around every corner. A left turn, an Irish team merchandise stall. A right turn, Bulgarian merchandise. Not to mention the thousands of people that kept knocking into her every other second. But she was not lost. No, certainly not lost. The stadium was over there, so that meant her tent was back where she came from.
She did not find Camille, likely because the girl was in France. What her sister doesn't know won't hurt her. You see, Verity wished for the full experience. She wanted to wear Irish merchandise and sing chants with strangers whilst drinking beer from a plastic cup. One of which had been completed when a stranger gave her an Irish scarf whilst asking if she would come back later.
But it seems time had ran away from her, leaving Verity hurrying past different tents. Was it that way way? Past the dark red tent, or perhaps the blue one? She kept a quick pace, eyes flittering over everyone and everything. It couldn't be midday yet, nobody was eating lunch. Or had they already ate? Her sister would tell her I told you so if she ever found her way back. She was such an idiot, curse her ineffable curiosity.
Verity groaned when she spotted the Weasleys tent ahead of her. Her tent was in the sponsors area, in the opposite direction to the blood traitors. She came to an abrupt stop, took a step backwards and spun around. However she did not count on crashing into another person and a dog.
"Oh fuck, I'm so a orry." Verity stumbled away from the person, straightening any wrinkles caused from the collision. She looked up and met eyes with a stranger.
"Oh, it's alright, I wasn't looking where I was going." The man chuckled kindly. He looked about a year older than her, and wore a green jumper with dark brown hair.
"Cepheus Tonks, or Ceph if your prefer." He greeted holding out his hand to her.
"Verity Carver, pleasure to meet you." She shook his hand, smiling tightly. Her father was going to kill her. She was surely late now. The shaggy looking dog let out an impatient bark, pacing around the man's feet. "I don't suppose you know where the sponsors campsite is, do you? And the time?"
The man, Cepheus, seemed to sense her rush.
"The time,"he replied, checking his wristwatch
"is 11. 45 and the site you're looking for is over there,"he pointed to the left.
Verity breathed out quietly and smiled.
"Thank you, and I apologise again for bumping into you. It was so very uncivilised of me. Goodbye." she exclaimed before taking off rather quickly.
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