Harry Potter and the Doomspell Tournament

Chapter 3--It's Off to Camp We Go

"Hurry, Harry, the Portkey leaves at seven!"

"I know Rose, I'm coming!" Harry shot back irritably. His twin had woken him and Orion (who had turned very red when he saw her) at five a.m. It was now six thirty, and Harry was bringing his little pack and Firebolt downstairs. Orion was already down and sleeping at the table, his black hair falling over his face. Rose was bustling around, having just started trying to make breakfast.

Harry sighed, taking over from his sister. In ten minutes, breakfast was ready and the three of them were eating. By six fifty-five, They were done and standing with their trunks and holding the Portkey. At seven o'clock exactly, the three of them felt a tug behind their respective navels as they were transported to the same Quidditch pitch that Harry and Rose had first seen each other on the year before. The black-haired trio quickly made their way over to the banner marking the sixteen-year-olds' spot. They were joined by a pale mouse-like blonde girl with watery blue eyes, an olive-skinned boy with dark hair, a tall boy with blonde hair and bright blue eyes, and a thickly built boy who looked as though he could be (very) distantly related to Viktor Krum.

Albert Quirrell was once more heading the camp. Since there was no one "misbehaving" this year, he couldn't use that as a springboard for his welcome talk. "Welcome to the European Summer Quidditch Academy. The twenty-one of you are the best of your age and position on the continent--but don't get too cocky about that! That's why there are so rarely returning players--they get cocky, and someone else gets better than they are! However, for the first time in well over a century and a half, we have not one, but two returning players--Harry Potter and Rose Black!" He indicated the sixteen-year-old pair before returning to his talk, and Harry noticed the mouse-like blonde suddenly give Rose a contemptuous look. "None of that, now!" Quirrell snapped. "Whoever you are outside this camp does not matter as of now. Those you are standing with are your teammates, and the others are your rivals. You are not to approach older players unless you have defeated them or an older team! You will all play each other, in this order: fifteen and seventeen, the winner of that game and sixteen, and then sixteen and the remaining team. Now get up to your cabins and choose a team captain and team name! After that you have practice--first one down gets first pick on the pitches!"

There was a general scramble to get up to the cabins; Harry, remembering what Fred and George had done the year before, caught the attention of the other sixteen-year-olds, mounted his broom, and sped off towards the middle cabin. They reached the cabin quickly and dismounted, and all of them haphazardly filtered inside. The setup was the same as the year before, and both Harry and Rose carefully avoided the captain's chair. Harry had enough of captaining during the school year, and he got the feeling that Rose would prefer not to captain again if she could help it.

Everyone settled in, and Orion wound up in the captain's chair. There was silence for a moment, and then Harry spoke. "Well, I suppose you all know that I'm Harry Potter--I play seeker. I'm from Little Winging, Surrey, in Britain."

Rose, sitting between Harry and Orion, grinned. "Rose Black, of course, of London until recently. Now I live in the Scottish countryside. Keeper."

"Orion Black--Rose and I are . . . cousins. I'm a Beater."

The blonde boy went next. "Piotr Viachi, from Russia," he said with a thick accent. "I play Beater."

The other girl was next. "Virgo Malfoy-Pettigrew. I live in London. I am a Chaser, and her father killed mine!" She surged towards Rose, but Harry stood quickly and caught her by the wrist before she reached his twin.

"For one thing, your father is still alive. I've seen him. Secondly, Quirrell said we're to lay aside old grudges. Thirdly, blood doesn't tell much. My aunt and uncle are Muggles and fairly horrible, but my parents were powerful and, I've been told, wonderful people. Finally . . . " he paused, glaring at Virgo, "you'd do best not to try and attack my friends. I don't take kindly to people who do." He held Virgo's gaze a moment longer before he released her wrist and sat, allowing her to do the same. There was silence for a moment, and then Harry cleared his throat. "Next?"

"Dimitri Rumslov," the Krum-like boy said quickly, his accent also like Krum's. "I am from Bulgaria. Chaser."

"And I am Dante Vincini, from Sicily. I am Chaser also."

Rose nodded. "Okay, now that we all know each other--and a pureblooded imbecile tried to attack me--"

"Rose!" Harry interrupted. "As much as I agree that it is imbecilic to try to attack you, a team works better when they're not throwing insults at each other. She can't help who her father is or change what he did, and you know as well as I do how much store Malfoys put in blood."

"Of course, Harry. As I was saying, we need to choose a captain. I had more than enough captaining last year at this thing, so not me."

"Not that it would be a good idea, with how well Rose and Virgo are getting along," Harry commented. "Virgo wouldn't be a good idea, either, and I get enough of it during the year. I've got to replace my Beaters this year, though, so if either of you want to transfer to Hogwarts, feel free. Fred and George are going to be hard to replace."

"That leaves Orion, Piotr, Dimitri, and Dante," Rose said matter-of-factly. "My vote's for Orion. He's got a fairly good mind for strategy."

"Rose, you have never seen me play a game that had anything to do with strategy!" Orion objected. "When I play Quidditch, all I do is hit the Bludger towards whoever seems to be doing the most damage."

"See? Strategy."

"Besides, I'm captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and my strategy is usually to jump in, do what I have to, and hope I survive," Harry added dryly. "It's kept me alive so far, but it doesn't do much in Quidditch matches."

"We know what to do, anyway," Rose pointed out. "The game doesn't call for major strategies."

"Something like that," Orion agreed. "It's more about having lots of little strategies before hand and the players being able to automatically implement them when they're called for."

Piotr, Dimitri, and Dante shared a look, and what each thought was obvious despite different cultures and the fact that they had never met before. "Orion should be captain," Piotr said bluntly. "He understands Quidditch better than he thinks."

"But--"

"Give up, Orion, you proved how much you know yourself," Rose said brightly. "Besides, Harry has apparently decided to keep Virgo and I from tearing each other's throats out, so you won't have to worry about that!"

Orion sighed, defeated. "All right. Let's pick a name, then."

"Start at the back of the book," Rose advised. "Harry and I saw the first three-fourths last year."

Orion complied, and it wasn't long before Rose suggested the first name. "Lupus?"

"We'll have to remember that one," Harry mused. They waited a bit longer and were on the page with the Stags on it before Harry saw another one he liked. "Either Animagi or Lupus, I think."

"Animagi," Virgo said immediately, not wanting to agree with Rose.

"Animagi are seen as evil in my country," Piotr said, and Dante nodded, agreeing. Harry shifted slightly, uncomfortable. There was something else about him seen as evil, and this acquired ability was his fault.

"Then we'll use the other--unless anyone sees wolves as evil," Orion said calmly. No one said anything. "Lupus!"

As the year before, the room was changed. Basic wood furnishings became lush furnishings of a deep green that was nearly black, accented with gold. The wood itself became mahogany, and the plaques appeared on the doors. Their robes appeared before them on the table, deep green with their names embroidered in gold on the back and a golden wolf leaping from the front. Harry remembered that he had similar robes, in black and silver with a stag on the right breast, tucked in his trunk at home.

"Wow," Virgo breathed after a moment. "That was awesome! Do you have any idea how much magic that would take to set up? Some really powerful people set this place up!"

"I've done some research on it since last year," Rose said matter-of-factly. "It was six witches and wizards--two did each cabin. All of them were either Muggleborn or their parents were either Muggleborn. The purer the blood, the less magic there is. Well . . . there are a few exceptions. Like the Potters, the Blacks, the Dumbledores, and the Snapes."

Virgo rose to strike Rose, but thought better of it when Harry cleared his throat pointedly. "There is power in pure blood, and not just those four houses of Muggle-lovers!"

"Oh, there's power--of a moderate level." Rose replied icily. "And the Snapes are usually in Slytherin. Every once in a while you get a Snape in a different House--but you see squibs come out of the highly inbred house of Pettigrew more often! And as for Malfoy--bah. I could name a dozen houses other than the four I have that are more powerful. Plus, I know for a fact that your mother was a squib."

"Why you . . .."

"Stop." Rose and Virgo both froze, staring at Harry. He had only stood and had spoken softly, but he seemed to demand respect at the moment. He looked first at Virgo, holding her gaze until she dropped her eyes, then turned to his twin.

:Rose, remember that you are still, publicly at least, Sirius's daughter. I don't know anything about this "Clan" you were talking about yesterday, but remember that you represent that, too, as well as the Gryffindor team and our family.:

Rose lowered her eyes, abashed. :Of course, Harry. I'll remember that. I shouldn't have bated her like that.:

:I'd say you shouldn't have!: Rose twitched as though she wanted to looked back up suddenly in shock, but they were learning to suppress reactions like that in public. :She may be the child of that bloody traitor and a Malfoy, but we still have to play on the same team! Besides, you weren't even being particularly coherent.:

:I know that, Harry,: Rose said placidly. :She's illegitimate, you know. Peter Pettigrew never married. At the time he betrayed our parents, he had another two or three months to become engaged to a pureblooded witch on his own (everyone was certain it would be Aunt Catherine) or his parents would have arranged a marriage for him. Either just before or just after he "died" his parents found out about Virgo. Since her mother is a squib the Pettigrews would have paid for the Malfoys' silence rather than have their son marry her, but they paid several times more than they would have to keep Peter's memory from being tarnished. It's the politics of the purebloods, you see. Be glad you've been spared.:

Harry laughed, and Rose looked up and grinned. "Rose, you know very well that your innocent act doesn't fool me--and I doubt it fools Orion either."

"I don't know . . ." Orion mused, "she had me at first, but after that she lost it."

"I never seem to get it quite right," Rose sighed dramatically. "We should get down to the pitch, anyway. Practice makes perfect."

Harry managed to suppress his laugh at that, even though he hadn't been able to do so at Rose's comment about him being spared the purebloods' politics when they were both members of the Council of Five over the Order of the Phoenix. "Your call, Orion. I'm just here to keep Rose from killing anyone and to catch the Snitch a couple of times."

Rose giggled, and Orion nodded, carefully ignoring her giggling. Harry was glad that Orion would be going straight home after the Academy. He liked the boy well enough and wouldn't have minded him liking Rose if it wasn't for the situation with Neville. As it was, it would be better for all of them if they were soon reduced to contact via owl.

Because of the argument between Virgo and Rose, the sixteen-year-olds were the last down despite using their brooms to travel to the cabin and back down to the pitches. The pitch that they would practice on for the entire three days of the Academy was the most decrepit and in superannuated that Harry had ever seen. The turf was more brown than it was green, the lines were practically invisible, and the hoops were astoundingly tarnished and bent. Six of the sixteen-year-olds looked out at the pitch, completely forlorn. Virgo was glaring at Rose, tapping her foot. After a moment she broke the silence with an ear-splitting screech.

"QUIRRELL!"

There was a general yelp of pain as many of the others clapped their hands over their ears, and then a faint pop as Albert Quirrell Apparated onto their pitch. "I thought I'd be hearing from you."

"I should say so! My mother is paying for me to have a quality experience playing Quidditch with and against some of the best players my age! This pitch should be in top quality!"

"Dear me, it's been the sixteen-year-olds for the last two years now," Quirrell said, grinning gleefully. "I'm afraid we never quite get around to fixing this one up."

Virgo's face fell. She was obviously hoping that by objecting she could get the problem fixed. Harry, on the other hand, sighed and pulled out his wand. "Are we allowed to use magic here? It is a school-like setting, after all."

"Yes, I suppose, if you're supervised," Quirrell said, surprised by the question.

"Then supervise us. We can fix this place up today--unless you want to practice with it like this, Orion."

"No, I think we should straighten this out if we can." Orion paused, looking around at the other sixteen-year-old wizards. "Does anyone know anything that will help?"

"I know a simple potion that removed tarnish and how to make paint into self-painting paint," Rose offered. "Except I don't have my potion ingredients with me, much less paint."

"I know how encourage plant growth," Dante volunteered, obviously uncertain. "Never have I tried it on anything this large."

"Repairing metal structures is taught in my school," Dimitri remarked.

"We are taught to conjure potion ingredients in Russia," Piotr said. "I will conjure what Rose needs. Also, I have a collapsible cauldron."

"Pewter? That's what I'm used to."

"The one I brought is pewter."

"I'll help Dante with the turf," Harry offered. "I've never done anything like that before, but maybe I can help."

"And I'll help with the hoops," Orion said, nodding slightly. "That only leaves Virgo . . . why don't you get Rose some firewood to start with? Then you can help wherever you're needed."

Virgo sulked off to get firewood, glaring back at Orion, and everyone else started on their tasks. Harry listened carefully as Dante described what had to be done to the turf, and shortly realize that Dante (who was powerfully of earth) was using his elemental strength to encourage the plant growth.

"I think I've got an easier way to do that," Harry interrupted. "You're using your strength in the element of earth to encourage the plant growth."

Dante looked surprised. "I do! You know this how?"

"I read elements. I'm air. With air and earth, shouldn't we be able to speed the growth even more?"

"Yes. I wish my elemental sphere I brought . . .."

"I do too, but I think I can do what I can without it. We'll just have to work together."

Dante nodded, looking a little unsure. "I wish enough energy I know I have."

"I wouldn't worry about that," Harry said simply. "You're about half as powerful as I am in your element, and that's more than enough power for most things."

Dante raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. "To work let us get."