Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy || G. Weasley

TWT: Chapter Twelve

"Amos!" said Mr. Weasley, smiling as he strode over to the man who had shouted. The rest of them followed. Mr. Weasley was shaking hands with a ruddy-faced wizard with a scrubby brown beard, who was holding a moldy-looking old boot in his other hand.

"This is Amos Diggory, everyone," said Mr. Weasley. "He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And I think you know his son, Cedric?"

Cordelia waved to Cedric, they had met before, he had helped her with Charms homework once in her 2nd year.

"Hi," said Cedric, looking around at them all.

"Long walk, Arthur?" Cedric's father asked.

"Not too bad," said Mr. Weasley. "We live just on the other side of the village there. You?" "Had to get up at two, didn't we, Ced? I tell you, I'll be glad when he's got his Apparition test. Still . . . not complaining . . . Quidditch World Cup, wouldn't miss it for a sackful of Galleons — and the tickets cost about that. Mind you, looks like I got off easy. . . . All these yours, Arthur?"

"Oh no, only the redheads," said Mr. Weasley, pointing out his children. "This is Hermione, friend of Ron's and Cordelia, Fred and George's best friend, and Harry, another friend —"

"Merlin's beard," said Amos Diggory, his eyes widening.

"Harry? Harry Potter?" "Er — yeah," said Harry.

"Ced's talked about you, of course," said Amos Diggory. "Told us all about playing against you last year. . . . I said to him, I said — Ced, that'll be something to tell your grandchildren, that will. ... You beat Harry Potter!"

Fred and George were both scowling. Cedric looked slightly embarrassed. "Harry fell off his broom, Dad," he muttered. "I told you . . . it was an accident. . . ."

"Yes, but you didn't fall off, did you?" roared Amos genially, slapping his son on his back. "Always modest, our Ced, always the gentleman . . . but the best man won, I'm sure Harry'd say the same, wouldn't you, eh? One falls off his broom, one stays on, you don't need to be a genius to tell which one's the better flier!"

"Must be nearly time," said Mr. Weasley quickly, pulling out his watch again. "Do you know whether we're waiting for any more, Amos?"

"No, the Lovegoods have been there for a week already and the Fawcetts couldn't get tickets," said Mr. Diggory. "There aren't any more of us in this area, are there?"

"Not that I know of," said Mr. Weasley. "Yes, it's a minute off. . . . We'd better get ready. . . ." He looked around at Harry and Hermione. "You just need to touch the Portkey, that's all, a finger will do — Three . . ." muttered Mr. Weasley, one eye still on his watch, "two ... one . . ."

The group was pulled into the air and thrust into the air, less than a minute later Cordelia felt herself falling and landed with a hard thud on the ground. She looked up at the sky and saw Cedric smiling down at her.

"Here, let me help you up." he said, reaching his hand out and grasping hers. With one hard tug Cori was standing straight up.

"Thanks." she said. Cedric smiled and Cordelia walked over by Fred and George, George was looking over at Cedric and glaring, deeply. Cori looked over to Fred for an explanation at his brother's hostility, but Fred just shrugged, completely confused.

"Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill," said a voice. In front of them was a pair of tired and grumpy-looking wizards.

"Morning, Basil," said Mr. Weasley, picking up the boot and handing it to one of the wizards, who threw it into a large box of used Portkeys beside him.