Ginny Weasley is a bright, vivacious girl born into a loving family. Despite seeming small, and helpless Ginny is like a game of exploding snap: full of surprises. Being able to cast an extraordinary Bat Bogey Hex will become one of them.
Viola Les...
Viola stared at her father blankly. "I take it you like animals?" Viola didn't think it's was possible for someone to spend an hour with her without realizing she liked animals, and her father had lived with her for thirteen years.
"Uh . . . yes," said Viola.
On second thought she supposed she couldn't blame her father for not knowing she didn't like animals; her mother threw a fit if she saw so much as a ant crawling across the floor, so Viola tried to keep her animals out of sight, and out of harms way. She'd left her bat, rat, and snake with plenty of food up in her bedroom while she was away.
"Do you play for the Quidditch team?"
Viola shook her head.
"Why not?" asked her father curiously.
"Because-" Viola stopped short. There wasn't a specific reason she didn't play. She hadn't tried out for the team. She had done fairly well in her flying lesson. "Maybe I'll try out someday."
"Do you have a lot of friends?" Roderick asked. The more questions he asked, the more he realized how little he actually knew about his daughter.
Viola faltered slightly at this question. Yes, she had Hugo and Ava, but aside from them she didn't really have any. She was far from popular.
"A few," said Viola rather shortly.
"Well," said Roderick, "That is good."
There was a moment of silence as they continued to walk, then a voice called "Roderick!"
Viola looked around to see a two wizards standing by a rusty bucket. One was waving at Roderick.
"Ah, here we are," said Roderick, "there's the portkey."
Viola shrank behind her father as they approached the group. There was a man, and one boy who looked only a little older than Viola. They were all dressed in an assortment of varied clothing which indicated they were wizards trying to look like muggles.
The man who had called out to Viola's father was very short with very golden hair, and mouse like features. Viola assumed the boy standing next to him must be his son. They resembled each other greatly.
"Roderick!" said the golden haired man, smiling at them with long, thin teeth. "Glad to see you made it. And this must be your daughter, Viola!"
"Good to see you as well Cameron. Yes, this is Viola," said Roderick, putting his arm around Viola's shoulder and pushing her forward. "Viola this is Mr Cameron from work."
"Well it's wonderful to meet you Viola,"said the man. He gestured at the boy next to him. This is my son Benjamin."
The boy smiled at Viola. "Hello," he said. He held out a hand and Viola shyly shook it.
Viola wasn't sure whether she found his smile flattering . . . or disconcerting. She was both relieved and disappointed when he looked away.
Roderick and Mr Cameron began to chat about work (they worked at the Ministry for Magic). Then Benjamin interrupted by saying "Dad, this portkeys going to go off any second!"
Viola looked down at the port key which was the rusty bottle she had spotted before. She followed everyone else's actions, and put her hand down on it.
Viola knew all about portkeys, but she'd never used one before, so it came as quite an alarm when, after counting to three, she was suddenly jerked forward. Her head and body began to spin as they were jerked around in a whirl of howling wind, and bright colors.
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Ginny was quite relieved when the portkey spun to a stop, and she landed hard only the ground, only to topple down on top of Hermione.
"Whoops! Sorry Hermione!" said Ginny, quickly getting to her feet.
Her father, and their travel companions, Amos and Cedric Diggory had landed standing, while everyone else ended up on the dewy morning grass.
Ginny looked around to find that they had arrived on what appeared to be a deserted, misty moor. They had landed right in front of two grumpy-looking wizards.
Mr Weasley got the number of their campsite, then they headed off to find it.
After a walk that took about twenty minutes or so, they arrived at a little stone cottage next to a gate. Beyond that, the ghostly shapes of hundreds and hundreds of tents came rising out of the mist, going up the gentle slope of a large field toward a dark wood on the horizon.
They had arrived at the camp of Quidditch World Cup.
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