Little Sister | Harry Potter Fanfiction |

Chapter 3

BOLD= BULGAIRIAN

GOFGOFGOFGOFGOF

"We can't use magic, not allowed to on Muggle land. So we're going to have to put these tents up by hand."

Everyone groaned apart from Hermione and I.

"Oh, we get to put up tents? Awesome! I haven't done this since I was little!" I beamed.

"My Mum and Dad used to take me camping, so I can help out." Hermione offered.

The two of us put up the tents within a matter of minutes while Mr Weasley tried (and failed) to help us out. The issue was, when Charlie, Bill and Percy arrived there were eleven of us in total and we only had two tents. Harry, Hermione and I seemed to be the only ones who realized this.

"This might be a bit cramped." Mr Weasley mused.

He got down onto his hands and knees and crawled into one of the tents, beckoning for us to follow. I hesitantly stood up once inside, expecting my head to brush against the fabric ceiling.

"What the hell?" I gasped, looking around.

The seemingly small and normal tent was the size of a small apartment, completed with a kitchen and a bathroom. It came with furniture including a couch, some beds and a coffee table along with a heater and air conditioner.

"I love magic," Harry sighed.

"I'm growing quite fond of it, I must admit." I said, also breathless.

Mr Weasley asked Hermione, Ron and Harry to go get some water from a tap across the field and I decided to tag along because I wanted to have a proper look at the place. The sun had only just risen above the grey clouds and families were beginning to come out of their tents and cook things over the fire. There was one young boy, around the age of four, poking a slug with a wand, causing it to swell up to the size of a salami. When we were at level with the young child, the mother had come out of the tent, scolding him for touching his father's wand. She wasn't very happy when she stepped in the slug and was forced to carry her son back inside, in spite of his protests - "You bust slug! You bust slug!"

"Er - is it me, or have my eyes gone green?" Ron asked.

He did have a point; everywhere we now looked was green and white, so vivid that it hurt our eyes.

"Harry, Ron, Hermione!" a voice with a heavy Irish accent shouted in the distance. We all turned to see and boy with dark brown hair next to a taller dark-skinned boy running up to us.

"Hello, Seamus, Dean!" Hermione greeted.

"Hello, you lot! Oh, and who's this?" the boy with the accent looked at me pointedly as he finished his sentence.

I opened my mouth to respond, but Harry beat me to it.

"Back off, Seamus. She's only thirteen."

"And I'm only fourteen," he reasoned, still staring me down.

"Not that much older," I commented.

Seamus pressed a hand to his chest and stumbled backwards dramatically, allowing his friend to catch him.

"Oh me oh my! That accent!"

"Yeah, yeah, Seamus. We're all sick of listening to yours," said Harry.

"What's wrong, Potter? Got dibs?" Dean teased.

My face twisted with disgust and Harry just glared while Hermione and Ron snickered beside us.