The Forgotten Twin

Chapter 4

They didn't have breath to spare for talking as they began to climb Stoatshead Hill, stumbling occasionally in hidden rabbit holes, slipping on thick black tufts of grass. Each breath Delilah took was sharp in her chest and her legs were starting to seize up when, at last, her feet found level ground. She made a silent vow to try and work out more.

"Whew," panted Mr. Weasley, taking off his glasses and wiping them on his sweater. "Well, we've made good time — we've got ten minutes. . . ."

Hermione came over the crest of the hill last, clutching a stitch in her side.

"Now we just need the Portkey," said Mr. Weasley, 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?"

Cedric Diggory was the Captain and Seeker of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team at Hogwarts. Delilah also noticed that he wasn't that bad looking.

"Hi," said Cedric, looking around at them and giving a small, friendly wave.

Everybody said hi back except Fred and George, who merely nodded. Probably because Cedric had beaten Gryffindor in the first Quidditch match of the previous year.

"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, it looks like I got off easy...." Amos Diggory peered good-naturedly around at the three Weasley boys, Harry, Delilah, Hermione, and Ginny. "All these yours, Arthur?"

"Oh no, only the redheads, minus Delilah" said Mr. Weasley, pointing out his children, then Delilah. "This is Hermione, friend of Ron — and Harry, another friend —"

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

"Er — yeah," said Harry awkwardly.

Honestly, you'd think people would get used to him and learn not to gawk like idiots at the sound of his name.

"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!"

Delilah rolled her eyes. She agreed that Cedric was good at Quidditch, but the only reason Harry had lost was because of the Dementors. Cedric seemed to feel similarly. His cheeks were flushed and he looked down.

"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!"

Before Delilah could point out that it wasn't exactly fair, due to the fact that one was being attacked, and the other wasn't, Mr. Weasley changed the topic. Probably smart, due to the way almost everyone was glaring at Mr. Diggory.

"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, Delilah, and Hermione.

"You just need to touch the Portkey, that's all, a finger will do —"

With difficulty, owing to their bulky backpacks, the ten of them crowded around the old boot held out by Amos Diggory.

They all stood there, in a tight circle, as a chill breeze swept over the hilltop. Nobody spoke. Delilah suddenly realized how strange this would look if a Muggle walked up here now... ten people, two of them grown men, clutching this manky old boot in the semidarkness, waiting....

"Three..." muttered Mr. Weasley, one eye still on his watch, "two... one..."

It happened immediately: Delilah felt as though a hook just behind her back had been suddenly jerked irresistibly forward. Her feet left the ground; she could feel Fred and George on either side of her, their shoulders banging into his; they were all speeding forward in a howl of wind and swirling color; her finger was stuck to the boot as though it was pulling her magnetically onward and then—

Her feet slammed into the ground; George staggered into her and they both fell over; the Portkey hit the ground near her head with a heavy thud.

Delilah looked up. Only Mr. Weasley, Mr. Diggory, and Cedric were still standing, though looking very windswept; everyone else was on the ground.

"Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill," said a voice.