I felt as though I had barely lain down to sleep when Mum shook me awake.
"Time to go, (Y/n), dear," she whispered, moving away to wake Harry.
I groaned slightly and practically rolled out of bed. It was still dark outside. Ron muttered indistinctly as his mother roused him.
" 'S' time already?" said Fred groggily.
We dressed in silence, too sleepy to talk, then, yawning and stretching, the five of us headed downstairs into the kitchen. Mum was stirring the contents of a large pot on the stove, while Dad was sitting at the table, checking a sheaf of large parchment tickets. He looked up as the we entered and spread his arms so that we could see his clothes more clearly.
He was wearing what appeared to be a golfing sweater and a very old pair of jeans, slightly too big for him and held up with a thick leather belt.
"What d'you think?" he asked anxiously. "We're supposed to go incognito — do I look like a Muggle, Harry?"
"Yeah," said Harry, smiling, "very good."
"Where're Bill and Charlie and Per-Per-Percy?" said George, failing to stifle a huge yawn.
"Well, they're Apparating, aren't they?" said Mum, heaving the large pot over to the table and starting to ladle porridge into bowls. "So they can have a bit of a lie-in."
"Why can't we apparate?" I asked yawning.
"Because you're not of age and you haven't passed your test," snapped Mum.
"We could've done side along apparition." I muttered.
"So they're still in bed?" said Fred grumpily, pulling his bowl of porridge toward him.
"Where have those girls got to?" Mum asked ignoring Fred, bustling out of the kitchen and we heard her climbing the stairs.
"You have to pass a test to Apparate?" Harry asked.
"Oh yes," said Dad, tucking the tickets safely into the back pocket of his jeans. "The Department of Magical Transportation had to fine a couple of people the other day for Apparating without a license. It's not easy, Apparition, and when it's not done properly it can lead to nasty complications. This pair I'm talking about went and splinched themselves."
I winced slightly, as did everyone expect Harry.
How thick do you have to be to splinch yourself
"Er — splinched?" said Harry.
"They left half of themselves behind," said Dad, now spooning large amounts of treacle onto his porridge. "So, of course, they were stuck. Couldn't move either way. Had to wait for the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad to sort them out. Meant a fair old bit of paperwork, I can tell you, what with the Muggles who spotted the body parts they'd left behind. . . ."
"Were they okay?" Harry asked, startled.
"Oh yes," said Dad matter-of-factly. "But they got a heavy fine, and I don't think they'll be trying it again in a hurry. You don't mess around with Apparition. There are plenty of adult wizards who don't bother with it. Prefer brooms — slower, but safer."
"But Bill and Charlie and Percy can all do it?"
"Charlie had to take the test twice," said Fred, grinning. "He failed the first time, Apparated five miles south of where he meant to, right on top of some poor old dear doing her shopping, remember?"
"Yes, well, he passed the second time," said Mum, marching back into the kitchen amid hearty sniggers.
"Percy only passed two weeks ago," said George. "He's been Apparating downstairs every morning since, just to prove he can."
"Bloody git." I muttered, Percy always had to prove he was smarter than everyone else.
There were footsteps down the passageway and Hermione and Ginny came into the kitchen, both looking pale and drowsy.
"Why do we have to be up so early?" Ginny said, rubbing her eyes and sitting down at the table.
"We've got a bit of a walk," said Dad.
"Walk?" said Harry. "What, are we walking to the World Cup?"
"No, no, that's miles away," said Dad, smiling. "We only need to walk a short way. It's just that it's very difficult for a large number of wizards to congregate without attracting Muggle attention. We have to be very careful about how we travel at the best of times, and on a huge occasion like the Quidditch World Cup —"
"George!" said Mum sharply, and they all jumped.
"What?" said George, in an innocent tone that deceived nobody. "What is that in your pocket?"
"Nothing!"
"Don't you lie to me!"
Mum pointed her wand at George's pocket and said,
"Accio!"
Several small, brightly colored objects zoomed out of George's pocket; he made a grab for them but missed, and they sped right into Mum's outstretched hand.
"We told you to destroy them!" said Mumu furiously, holding up what were unmistakably more Ton-Tongue Toffees. "We told you to get rid of the lot! Empty your pockets, go on, both of you!"
It was an unpleasant scene; the twins had evidently been trying to smuggle as many toffees out of the house as possible, and it was only by using her Summoning Charm that Mum managed to find them all.
"Accio! Accio! Accio!" she shouted, and toffees zoomed from all sorts of unlikely places, including the lining of George's jacket and the turn-ups of Fred's jeans.
"We spent six months developing those!" Fred shouted at his mother as she threw the toffees away.
"Oh a fine way to spend six months!" she shrieked. "No wonder you didn't get more O.W.L.s!"
All in all, the atmosphere was not very friendly as we took their departure. Mum was still glowering as she kissed Dad on the cheek, though not nearly as much as the twins, who had each hoisted their rucksacks onto their backs and walked out without a word to her.
"Well, have a lovely time," said Mum, "and behave yourselves," she called after the twins' retreating backs, but they did not look back or answer. "I'll send Bill, Charlie, and Percy along around midday," Mum said to Dad, as he, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and I set off across the dark yard after Fred and George.
"Don't worry." I muttered to Fred and George as I caught up with them, pulling my rucksack off my back, and unzipping it. "I saved a few." I told them showing them the mounds of brightly wrapped sweets in it.
The twins grinned brightly at me. "Knew we could always count on you." Fred told grinning as he scooped large handfuls of the sweets into his own bag.
"This is why you're our favourite brother." George added.
It was chilly and the moon was still out. Only a dull, greenish tinge along the horizon to our right showed that daybreak was drawing closer.
We trudged down the dark, dank lane toward the village, the silence broken only by our footsteps. The sky lightened very slowly as we made our way through the village, its inky blackness diluting to deepest blue. My hands and feet were freezing, and I cursed myself for not bringing gloves.
We didn't have breath to spare for talking as we began to climb Stoatshead Hill, stumbling occasionally in hidden rabbit holes, slipping on thick black tuffets of grass. I was glad I had been exercising more, the climb up the hill was quite steep.
"Whew," panted Dad, 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 Dad, replacing his glasses and squinting around at the ground. "It won't be big. . . . Come on . . ."
We spread out, searching. We 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 Dad, smiling as he strode over to the man who had shouted. The rest of us followed.
Dad 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 Dad. "He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And I think you know his son, Cedric?"
Cedric Diggory was an extremely handsome boy of around seventeen. He was Captain and Seeker of the Hufflepuff House Quidditch team at Hogwarts.
"Hi," said Cedric, looking around at us all.
Everybody said hi back except Fred and George, who merely nodded. They had never quite forgiven Cedric for beating their team, Gryffindor, in the first Quidditch match of the previous year.
"Long walk, Arthur?" Cedric's father asked.
"Not too bad," said Dad. "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 four Weasley boys, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny. "All these yours, Arthur?"
"Oh no, only the redheads," said Dad, pointing out his children.
I scowled. "Don't forget about me."
"Ah yes yes so sorry, that's one of my youngest sons (Y/n). This is Hermione, friend of Ron and (Y/n)— 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!"
Harry remained silent at this, I wasn't sure if it was because he was anger or uncomfortable. Fred and George on the other hand were clearly angry as they 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! Are all of yours Gryffindor's then?"
"They are yeah." Dad told him proudly. "That's all the kids in the family!"
I scowled again. "Guess that makes me the next door neighbor."
"Beg pardon?" Amos asked me.
"I'm a Slytherin." I told him shaking his hand, although he looked a bit taken aback.
"Yes, yes sorry (Y/n), lack of sleep and all that." Dad said nervously, slightly red faced.
"A Slytherin?" Amos repeated looking me up and done. "Wonder what went wrong with that one eh Arthur?"
"And what's that supposed to mean?" I asked him coldly, glaring daggers into him.
"Er just a little joke just a joke." He said before turning back to Dad.
"I've seen you play before." Cedric said to me, trying to making small talk.
"You're not have bad yourself." I told him, Cedric nodded at me, before falling silent again.
"He looks a bit like a vampire." I muttered to Ron, who did his best to stifle his laughter.
"Must be nearly time," said Dad 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?"
"Luna's going?" I asked Amos quickly, I'm not sure if he heard me, but I'm pretty sure he was ignoring me.
"Not that I know of," said Dad. "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 —" With difficulty, owing to our bulky backpacks, the ten of us crowded around the old boot held out by Amos Diggory. We all stood there, in a tight circle, as a chill breeze swept over the hilltop.
Nobody spoke.
"Three . . ." muttered Dad, one eye still on his watch,
"two . . . one . . ."
It happened immediately: it felt as though a hook just behind my navel had been suddenly jerked irresistibly forward. My feet left the ground; I could feel Ron and Fred on either side of me, their shoulders banging into mine; we were all speeding forward in a howl of wind and swirling color; my forefinger was stuck to the boot as though it was pulling me magnetically onward and then —
I feet slammed into the ground; Ron staggered into Harry and the two of them fell over; as I sniggered at them, having just barely been able to keep my balance.