Dark Magic

The Dream

"Dad blew up the bloody fireplace. It was brilliant!" Ron's voice resounded through our cheers and laughter, retelling the story of the Weasley family going to Little Whinging to collect Harry from Petunia and Vernon. George sat forth on his beanbag, "And we gave Dudley some of our sweets and the poor git's tongue wouldn't stop growing!" Another chorus of laughter emitted from this, my stomach beginning to ache as tears streamed down my cheeks. I hadn't laughed this much in a long while. I had never taken the time to properly get to know the twins. But in a room, their humour combine with Ron's was unmatched.

"DINNER!" Mrs Weasley's voice caused the walls in the room to shudder a little, the group's laughter coming to a halt as we all made our way downstairs. At the table, however, there were two new faces, along with Mr Weasley; who had only been home a short while. "Bill! Charlie!" Ginny exclaimed, jumping into the arms of the two men. We knew them to be Ron's older brothers, but Ron introduced us to them both, nonetheless.

"Charlie. Bill. This is Emerald and Harry Potter."

The brothers eyed me curiously, "For a minute there, I thought we had a long, lost sister." Charlie joked, extending a hand to each of us. Bill nodded, following his brother in suit, "Nice to meet you both."

"You too." Harry and I spoke in unison, Mrs Weasley setting the table and instructing us all to eat. We had chicken pot pie; something I hadn't tried before and it was delicious, Mrs Weasley's cooking giving the elves at Hogwarts a run for their money. The dining area was filled with happiness and warmth and laughter; something I had missed terribly in those empty days at Hogwarts. It was wonderful to feel a part of something again; a part of a family. Slightly less dysfunctional than the one I had created.

"Em, can I talk to you for a minute?" Harry's voice queried, to low for anyone else at the table to hear. Nodding, we excused ourselves and made our way to Ron's room, in the attic.

"What's up?" I asked, taking a seat on one of the vacant beds as Harry closed the door. "I've uh...I've been getting these dreams. The past couple of nights. I wrote to Sirius about them. I'm worried they might be real."

Leaning forth in my place, I watched him take a seat on the remaining, single bed opposite, "What were they about?"

Harry shifted a little uncomfortably in his place, averting his gaze onto the floor, "I was in a house...Peter Pettigrew was there. And...Voldemort." My blood ran slightly cold at Harry's notion as I found myself recalling Trelawny's prophecy, only a few months prior. I watched as Harry reached for his scar, his eyes pained. "The last time my scar hurt was in my first year, when I first met You-Know-Who. I think he's getting stronger. I think I watched him kill a man."

Concern and fear began to brew within me at Harry's words. "Dumbledore said we're connected to You-Know-Who, somehow. Do you think we should tell him about this?" I asked, my eyes finally finding his green ones, determined and stern as he shook his head. "No. Just in case I'm wrong and they're just dreams. You haven't had any, have you?" He asked, but I shook my head. "No. But maybe that's because Professor Snape has been teaching me how to block people out. Maybe I've severed that connection, now."

Harry looked even more worried at this, me shaking my head dismissively in retort, "We won't tell anyone until we're sure it was real, alright?" I queried, my brother nodding in agreement. "Yeah. Sure."

And without another word, we resumed the dining table downstairs, where Fred and George were playing a game of Exploding Snaps, the rest of the siblings watching their brothers in anticipation. The rest of the night was peaceful, and I slept better than I had in a long time, knowing that Harry was only a floor above Ginny and I's room...

***

The following week, Hermione's parents dropped her off at the Burrow and Mr Weasley received a letter from one of his colleagues at the Ministry, advising he had upgraded our tickets for the World Cup to the Minister For Magic's box. To say we were even more excited was an understatement, the days passing quickly leading up to the match. Finally, August 18th had arrived and I found myself more alert and awake than ever before, considering we had to be up at 5am. The mornings were slightly chilly, even in August, so I opted for a jumper to start off my day, planning on changing later on for the match. Tying my hair away from my face, I woke the rest of the house up before we said goodbye to Mrs Weasley and set off.

Hermione, Ginny and I walked together behind the rest of the boys/men through the forest, the sun beginning to rise through the trees as we discussed trivial things such as boys, crushes etc. Ginny, apparently, had a crush on someone. But she wasn't yet willing to confess this to Hermione and I, no matter how much we pressed.

"Arthur!" A gentleman's voice called as we suddenly approached a clearing. A slightly plump man with glasses and a small amount of stubble waited to greet us with a face I could recognise from a mile away, it being so familiar on the Quidditch Pitch even in torrential rain. "It's about time, lad!" The older man chastised, to which Mr Weasley waved his hand dismissively, "Sorry, Amos. Some of us had a bit of a sleepy start." Motioning towards Ron, who let out an almighty yawn.

My Weasley wrapped a friendly arm around the man, presenting him to us all, "This is Amos Diggory, everyone. He works with me, at the Ministry."

Mr Diggory grinned, before his attention diverted onto his son, "I've no doubt you've heard of my son, Cedric. He's the Hufflepuff Quidditch Captain and is looking to become a Professional Quidditch Player when he graduates." The man walked to his son, patting him on the back triumphantly.

Finding an irrevocable smile appear on my lips, I watched as Cedric pushed his father's arm from his shoulder, seemingly embarrassed at his praise. "Dad." He groaned, letting out a nervous chuckle. This soon faded, however, once his hazel eyes found mine. "Emerald." The boy nodded, with a small smile which I returned. "Cedric."

His father exchanged a confused glance between the two of us, Cedric registering that he had not yet introduced this girl who was, most certainly, not a Weasley. "Ah, Dad this is Emerald Potter; youngest Quidditch Captain Slytherin has ever seen."

Amos looked my up and down, scanning me with slight confusion and disbelief in his eyes, "My my, Miss Potter. I didn't think they let girls on the Slytherin Team." He noted, impressed.

My smile did not waiver, as I looked him dead in the eyes and said simply, "They don't. Suppose I must be pretty good, then." Silence ensued, say for Cedric's small scoff under his breath, making me question whether or not I had said the wrong thing. Mr Weasley soon broke the quiet, "Well, we best get going. The Portkey won't wait forever."

"What sort of objects are Portkeys?" Harry asked, although I had already read about them in a Wizarding Artefact book, when Ginny mentioned it would be our method of travel to the World Cup; similar to Apparition, but even more sickly.

"Well, they can be anything. Unobtrusive things, obviously, so Muggles don't go picking them up and playing with them...stuff they'll think is just litter..." Mr Weasley instructed, finally approaching an old, mangled shoe at the top of the hill.

People began to kneel in front of it, "Right. 60 Seconds. Everyone hold on tightly." Amos Diggory instructed, checking his watch for the time, the moments counting down rather quickly as we all placed our hand onto a different part of the shoe. I shut my eyes, bracing myself for the horrible feeling of being transported to overwhelm me. Shortly it did, flinging us back and forth until we hit the ground hard, arriving at the Stadium of the 422nd Quidditch World Cup...