Daughter of a Criminal

Barty and Crouch

Harry got to his feet as Cedric helped Ann up. The two seemed quite close, much to Harry's displeasure. They had arrived on what appeared to be a deserted stretch of misty moor. In front of them was a pair of tired and grumpy-looking wizards, one of whom was holding a large gold watch, the other a thick roll of parchment and a quill. Both were dressed as Muggles, though very inexpertly: The man with the watch wore a tweed suit with thigh-length galoshes; his colleague, a kilt and a poncho.
"Morning, Basil," said Mr. Weasley, picking up the boot and handing it to the kilted wizard, who threw it into a large box of used Portkeys beside him; Ann could see an old newspaper, an empty drinks can, and a punctured football.
"Hello there, Arthur," said Basil wearily. "Not on duty, eh? It's all right for some. . . . We've been here all night. . . . You'd better get out of the way, we've got a big party coming in from the Black Forest at five-fifteen. Hang on, I'll find your campsite. . . . Weasley . . . Weasley . . ." He consulted his parchment list. "About a quarter of a mile's walk over there, first field you come to. Site manager's called Mr. Roberts. Diggory . . . second field . . . ask for Mr. Payne." "Thanks, Basil," said Mr. Weasley, and he beckoned everyone to follow him. They set off across the deserted moor, unable to make out much through the mist. After about twenty minutes, a small stone cottage next to a gate swam into view. Beyond it, Ann could 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. They said good-bye to the Diggorys and approached the cottage door. A man was standing in the doorway, looking out at the tents. When he heard their footsteps, he turned his head to look at them.
"Morning!" said Mr. Weasley brightly.
"Morning," said the Muggle.
"Would you be Mr. Roberts?"
"Aye, I would," said Mr. Roberts. "And who're you?"
"Weasley â€" two tents, booked a couple of days ago?"
"Aye," said Mr. Roberts, consulting a list tacked to the door. "You've got a space up by the wood there. Just the one night?"
"That's it," said Mr. Weasley.
"You'll be paying now, then?" said Mr. Roberts.
"Ah â€" right â€" certainly â€"" said Mr. Weasley. He retreated a short distance from the cottage and beckoned Harry toward him.
"You foreign?" said Mr. Roberts as Mr. Weasley returned with the correct notes.
"Foreign?" repeated Mr. Weasley, puzzled.
"You're not the first one who's had trouble with money," said Mr. Roberts, scrutinizing Mr. Weasley closely. "I had two try and pay me with great gold coins the size of hubcaps ten minutes ago."
"Did you really?" said Mr. Weasley nervously. Mr. Roberts rummaged around in a tin for some change.
"Never been this crowded," he said suddenly, looking out over the misty field again. "Hundreds of pre-bookings. People usually just turn up. . . ."
"Is that right?" said Mr. Weasley, his hand held out for his change, but Mr. Roberts didn't give it to him.
"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?" said Mr. Weasley anxiously.
"It's like some sort of . . . I dunno . . . like some sort of rally," said Mr. Roberts. "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 said sharply, pointing his wand at Mr. Roberts. Instantly, Mr. Roberts's eyes slid out of focus, his brows went unknitted, and a look of dreamy unconcern fell over his face. Ann recognized the symptoms of one who had just had their memory modified.
"A map of the campsite for you," Mr. Roberts said placidly to Mr. Weasley. "And your change."
"Thanks very much," said Mr. Weasley. 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 having a lot of trouble with him. Needs a Memory Charm ten times a day to keep him happy. 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.
Time Skip
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!" said Mr. Weasley happily. "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 tents up by hand! Shouldn't be too difficult. . . . Muggles do it all the time. . . . Here, Harry, where do you reckon we should start?"
Time Skip
Mr. Weasley dropped to his hands and knees and entered the first tent. "We'll be a bit cramped," he called, "but I think we'll all squeeze in. Come and have a look." Ann bent down, ducked under the tent flap. Ann had walked into what looked like an old-fashioned, three-room flat, complete with bathroom and kitchen. There were crocheted covers on the mismatched chairs 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. "I borrowed this from Perkins at the office. Doesn't camp much anymore, poor fellow, he's got lumbago." He picked up the dusty kettle and peered inside it. "We'll need water. . . ."
"There's a tap marked on this map the Muggle gave us," said Ann, who had followed Harry inside the tent and seemed completely unimpressed by its extraordinary inner proportions. "It's on the other side of the field." said Ron looking over the map.
"Well, why don't you two, Harry, and Hermione go and get us some water then" â€" Mr. Weasley handed over the kettle and a couple of saucepans â€" "and the rest of us will get some wood for a fire?" Ann gave Mr. Weasley a quzzical look.
"But we've got an oven," said Ron, voicing Ann's thoughts. "Why can't we just â€""
"Ron, anti-Muggle security!" said Mr. Weasley, his face shining with anticipation. "When real Muggles camp, they cook on fires outdoors. I've seen them at it!" After a quick tour of the girls' tent, which was slightly smaller than the boys', though without the smell of cats, Ann, Harry, Ron, and Hermione set off across the campsite with the kettle and saucepans. Now, with the sun newly risen and the mist lifting, they could see the city of tents that stretched in every direction. They made their way slowly through the rows, staring eagerly around. 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 Ann, Harry, Ron, and Hermione he muttered distractedly, "In broad daylight! Parents having a lie-in, I suppose â€"" Here and there adult wizards and witches were emerging from their 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.
"Er â€" is it my eyes, or has everything gone green?" said Ron. It wasn't just Ron's eyes. They 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. Then, from behind them, they heard their names.
"Harry! Ron! Ann! Hermione!" It was Seamus Finnigan, their fellow Gryffindor fourth year. He was sitting in front of his own shamrock-covered tent, with a sandy-haired woman who had to be his mother, and his best friend, Dean Thomas, also of Gryffindor. "Like the decorations?" said Seamus, grinning. "The Ministry's not too happy."
"Ah, why shouldn't we show our colors?" said Mrs. Finnigan. "You should see what the Bulgarians have got dangling all over their tents. You'll be supporting Ireland, of course?" she added, eyeing Ann, Harry, Ron, and Hermione beadily. When they had assured her that they were indeed supporting Ireland, they set off again, though, as Ron said,
"Like we'd say anything else surrounded by that lot."
"I don't think I could stomach supporting Bulgaria," said Ann fake gagging
"Ughh, Irelands the worst," said Ron
"I wonder what the Bulgarians have got dangling all over their tents?" said Hermione.
"Let's go and have a look," said Harry, pointing to a large patch of tents uphill, where the Bulgarian flag â€" white, green, and red â€" was fluttering in the breeze. The tents here had not been bedecked 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?" said Hermione.
"Krum!" said Ron. "Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker!"
"Also known as Rons future husband," Ann teased Ron, whose ears went bright red
"He looks really grumpy," said Hermione, looking around at the many Krums blinking and scowling at them.
"Really grumpy?" Ron raised his eyes to the heavens. "Who cares what he looks like? He's unbelievable-"
"He's really young too. Only just eighteen or something-" said Ann
"He's a genius, you wait until tonight, you'll see," said Ron. There was already a small queue for the tap in the corner of the field. Ann Harry, Ron, and Hermione joined it, right behind a pair of men who were having a heated argument.
Walking more slowly now, because of the weight of the water, they made their way back through the campsite.
"You've been ages," said George when they finally got back to the Weasleys' tents.
"Met a few people," said Ron, setting the water down.
"You haven't got that fire started yet?" Ann asked
"Dad's having fun with the matches," said Fred. Mr. Weasley was having no success at all in lighting the fire, but it wasn't for lack of trying. Splintered matches littered the ground around him, but he looked as though he was having the time of his life.
"Oops!" he said as he managed to light a match and promptly dropped it in surprise.
"Come here, Mr. Weasley," said Hermione kindly, taking the box from him, and showing him how to do it properly. At last they got the fire lit, though it was at least another hour before it was hot enough to cook anything. There was plenty to watch while they waited, however. At last, the fire was ready, and they had just started cooking eggs and sausages when Bill, Charlie, and Percy came strolling out of the woods toward them.
"Just Apparated, Dad," said Percy loudly. "Ah, excellent, lunch!" They were halfway through their plates of eggs and sausages when Mr. Weasley jumped to his feet, waving and grinning at a man who was striding toward them.
"Aha!" he said. "The man of the moment! Ludo!" Ludo Bagman was wearing long Quidditch robes in thick horizontal stripes of bright yellow and black. An enormous picture of a wasp was splashed across his chest. He had the look of a powerfully built man gone slightly to seed; the robes were stretched tightly across a large belly he surely had not had in the days when he had played Quidditch for England. His nose was squashed, but his round blue eyes, short blond hair, and rosy complexion made him look like a very overgrown schoolboy.
"Ahoy there!" Bagman called happily.
Time Skip
"Wow, look at these!" said Harry, hurrying over to a cart piled high with what looked like brass binoculars, except that they were covered with all sorts of weird knobs and dials. "Omnioculars," said the saleswizard eagerly. "You can replay action . . . slow everything down . . . and they flash up a play-by-play breakdown if you need it. Bargain â€" ten Galleons each."
"Wish I hadn't bought this now," said Ron, gesturing at his dancing shamrock hat and gazing longingly at the Omnioculars.
"Four pairs," said Ann firmly to the wizard.
"No â€" don't bother," said Ron, going red. He was always touchy about the fact that Ann, who had inherited a small fortune from her parents, had much more money than he did.
"You won't be getting anything for Christmas," Ann told him, thrusting Omnioculars into his, Harry and Hermione's hands.
"Fair enough," said Ron, grinning.
"Thanks Ann, but here," Harry said paying Ann back
"It's no bi-" Ann started but Harry insisted on paying her, he didn't like the idea of Ann buying him stuff, for some reason.
"Oooh, thanks, Ann," said Hermione. "And I'll get us some programs, look â€"" Their money bags considerably lighter, they went back to the tents. Bill, Charlie, and Ginny were all sporting green rosettes like Ann, and Mr. Weasley was carrying an Irish flag. Fred and George had no souvenirs as they had given Bagman all their gold. And then a deep, booming gong sounded somewhere beyond the woods, and at once, green and red lanterns blazed into life in the trees, lighting a path to the field.
"It's time!" said Mr. Weasley, looking as excited as any of them. "Come on, let's go!"

(We all know what happens during the match, They gang meets Winky, Heroine becomes horrified at the whole House elf part of the world, they met the Malfoys who are as rude as ever, and finally Ireland wins)