HIDDEN BLACK

✧NOW WE JUST NEED THE PORTKEY✧

THEY TRUDGED DOWN the dark, dank lane toward the village, occasionally chatting and laughing over jokes. The sky lightened very slowly as they made their way through the village, its inky blackness diluting to deepest blue. 

They finally made it to the top of the hill, Lyra clutching her side which ached from laughter and the long walk, and listened to Mr. Weasley.

"Now we just need the Portkey," he said, replacing his glasses and squinting around at the ground. "It won't be big. . . . Come on. . . "

They spread out, searching. They had only been at it for a couple of minutes, however, when a shout rent the still air.

"Over here, Arthur! Over here, son, we've got it. "

Two tall figures were silhouetted against the starry sky on the other side of the hilltop.

"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?"

Lyra gasped and looked at him with slight admiration; he was the captain and seeker of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, and had beat Harry in the last match. She noticed that Fred and Geroge didn't look cheerful at all, but without her own house bias, she could only be excited to meet another quidditch player- and a seeker at that.

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

Everybody said 'hi' back except Fred and George, who merely nodded.

"Long walk, Arthur?" Cedric's father, Amos, 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. . . . "  Amos Diggory peered good-naturedly around at the three Weasley boys, Lyra, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny. "All these yours, Arthur?"

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

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

"Er - yeah," said Harry.

She noticed how he looked uncomfortable as Amos' eyes moved up to his infamous lightning scar.

"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 again. 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!"

"There were dementors," Lyra added quietly, though just loud enough for her presence to be known, "And I'm not biased- I'm not a Gryffindor; it wasn't a fair playing field."