A/N: This is dedicated to........
Yes, you've got it...
It is....
YummyMentos for the cover at the side! (If it's not up there, then I haven't put it up yet :P)
Thanks again!
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Someone was shaking me, Gently, but there was a hint of urgency in their movement. I blinked my eyes open, and gazed up at the blurred figure swaying above me.
"Willow, dear," Mrs Weasley whispered before moving off to wake Hermione and Ginny. "Time to go."
My eyes slowly became more focused as I sat up and pulled myself out of bed, and my thoughts threaded together the more I woke up.
"Are we supposed to dress like Muggles?" I asked the room at large, holding a pair of denim cut-offs in my left hand.
"Yes," answered Hermione groggily. "Yes, we are."
Nodding, I slipped on the cut-offs, selected a white vest-top and fixed my trainers onto my feet. Then I picked up my brush.
It slid softly through my red locks, getting stuck every time it met a tangle or a knot. Pulling all of my hair up, I did it in a high pony-tail, not caring about how I looked.
"You look just like a Muggle," said Hermione, impressed; she evidentally thought that living with a group of wizards would make me forget how to dress sensibly.
"Thanks," I grinned, pocketing my money bag and skipping out of the room. Deciding to take my time walking down the stairs, I lost myself in the thoughts of the Quidditch World Cup. In no time at all, though, I had reached the kitchen to find all the boys up already.
"Hey, guys," I said chirpily, yanking a bowl of porridge towards me as I sat down next to George; he slung an arm round my shoulders and I grinned to myself.
There were footsteps down the passage way and Hermione and Ginny came into the kitchen.
"Why do we have to be up so early?" Ginny said, rubbing her eyes and sitting down next to me.
"We've got a bit of a walk," said Mr Weasley.
"Walk?" echoed Harry. "What, are we walking to the World Cup?"
"No, no, that's miles away," said Mr Weasley, 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 Mrs Weasley sharply, and I had to grab onto Ginny for support as I almost fell of my chair.
"What?" said George, in a tone of innocence that deceived nobody.
"What is that in your pocket?"
"Nothing!"
"Don't you lie to me!"
Mrs Weasley pointed her wand at George's pocket, and said, "Accio!"
Several small, brightly coloured objects zoomed out of George's pocket, almost hitting me on the head as they passed.
"We told you to destroy them!" said Mrs Weasley furiously, holding up the toffees. "We told you to get rid of the lot! Empty your pockets, go on, both of you!"
I groaned silently and laid my head down on the table; the twins and I had been hoping to smuggle as many Ton-Tongue Toffees out of the house as possible, but Mrs Weasley managed to find them all.
Well, not all.
"Accio! Accio! Accio!"she shouted, and toffees zoomed through the air towards her, some coming out of good hiding places (or so we thought) such as 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.
"Oh, a fine way to spend six months!" she shrieked. "No wonder you didn't get more O.W.Ls!"
I kept quiet then; not speaking, not moving a muscle, not even breathing. I didn't want Mrs Weasley to get onto the topic of O.W.Ls; I was about to go into my fifth year, which is the year students have to take their Ordinary Wizarding Levels. More commonly know as OWLs.
"I'm fed up of this," muttered Fred as we hoisted our rucksacks onto our backs and walked out of the front door without a backwards glance. "Can't they see we're serious about this?"
"Apparently not," I said softly as we headed out into the dark yard. Then I grinned. "Hey, but I've still got mine!"
"Wha- oh, yeah!" laughed Fred. "Youalways get away with it, don't you?"
I smiled. "Yep."
Harry sped past us to walk with Mr Weasley, who was up front. He asked a question, but I wasn't really listening; I caught the end, though.
"... There have been two hundred Portkeys placed at strategic points around Britain, and the nearest one to us is up at the top of Stoatshead Hill, so that's where we're heading."
"What sort of objects are Portkeys?"
"Well, they can be anything. Unobtrusive things, obviously, so Muggles don't go picking them up and playing with them... stuff they'll just think is litter..."
We trudged down the dank lane that lead to the village, the sky lightening as we grew nearer. I shivered; the tips of my fingers were a light blue, almost the exact shade of blue the sky was becoming.
"Oh, God," I gasped as I almost tripped over halfway up Stoatshead Hill, steadying myself at the last second. Carefully, I picked up my foot and took it out of the rabbit hole it had got caught in, making sure to miss the next one. I sped up slightly, jumping over rabbit holes, laughing as the wind rushed through my hair.
"Whew," panted Mr Weasley when we reached the top, staring at me as though I wasn't human. "I don't know how you can run up that hill, Wil, it's possible. But, we've made good time - we've got ten minutes...
"Now we just need the Portkey," said Mr Weasley, putting his glasses back on. He squinted at the ground, obviously searching the ground for any old, easily looked over objects.
We spread out over the hill, all of us searching for an unknown object. It had only been a few minutes, however, when a shout ran through the still morning air.
"Over here, Arthur! Over here, son, we've got it!"
I blinked again the semi-dark sky as two silhouettes ambled from the other side of the hill towards us.
"Amos!" said Mr Weasley. He strode forwards to the man who had heckled him, and, shrugging at George's confuzed face, I led the way after Mr Weasley.
'Amos' was a ruddy-faced wizard with a scrubby brown beard, and I wrinkled my nose at the smell of the mouldering old boot he was holding in his 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?"
"Hi," said Cedric.
"Hi," I replied, smiling slightly. Everyone echoed me except for Fred and George, who just nodded.
"Long walk, Arthur?" Cedric's father asked.
"No too long," said Mr Weasley. "We live on the other side of the village there. You?"
"Had to get up at two, didn't we..."
I just ignored him. Instead, I stared down at the village, the early-birds starting to wake slightly.
"All these yours, Arthur?"
"Oh, no, only the redheads," said Mr Weasley. "Well, Willow's not ours, but she's lived with us since her parents were killed in the first Wizarding War - this is Hermione, friend of Ron's - and Harry, another friend-"
"Merlin's beard," said Amos. "Harry? Harry Potter?"
"Er-yeah," said Harry. I was slightly irritated now; sure, it was Harry Potter, get over it. But, evidently, this man cannot.
"Ced's talked about you, of course," Amos told us. "Told us about playing 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 scowled; Harry looked a bit lost for words, and I rolled my weight onto my left leg uncomfortably.
Awkward, much.
"Harry fell off his broom, Dad," Cedric muttered. "I told you... it was an accident..."
He was just making this worse.
"Yes, but you didn't fall off, did you?" roared Amos, slapping Cedric on the back. "Always modest, our Ced, always the gentleman... but the best man won, I'm sure Harry'd agree, wouldn't you, eh? One fall off his broom, the other stays on, you don't need to be a genius to tell which on's the better flier!"
"Must be nearly time!" said Mr Weasley as I shuffled my feet. "Do you know whether we're waiting for any more, Amos?"
"No, the Lovegoods arrived there a week ago, and the Fawcetts couldn't get tickets," said Amos. "There aren't any more of us in this particular area, are there?"
"Not that I know of," replied Mr Weasley. "Yes, it's a minute off... we'd better get ready..."
"You excited?" I whispered to George.
"Yeah. You?"
"Duh."
He chuckled as we crowded round the old boot hold out by Amos. I shivered as a chill breeze swept over the hilltop, and Mr Weasley checked his watch.
"Three...," he muttered. "Two... one..."
It happened straight away; it was like a hook hiding just behind my navel had suddenly decided to wake from its hibernation and pull me forwards. George and Fred, who were on either side of me, bashed into my shoulders as my feet left contact with the ground. Wind howled in my ears as we sped forwards, the hilltop colours spinning and swirling around us; no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't release my finger from the old boot as it guided me forward.
My feet slammed into the ground - Fred stumbled into me and I tripped, but a pair of strong arms caught me a fraction of a second before I fell, lifting me upright just as the Portkey hit the ground with a heavy thud. Looking around, I noticed only the two adults, Cedric and I were still standing; the rest were on the ground. Glancing down, I noticed it was George who had stopped me from falling.
"Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill," said a voice.
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"This place is awesome," I grinned as I picked my way through the fallen tree trunks back to our tents, arms laden with logs. We had already passed a Muggle, Mr Roberts, who had given us a map of the campsite; now, Harry, Ron and Hermione had gone to get some water and the rest of us were collecting wood for the fire.
"Yeah," grunted Fred.
I looked at him. "You need to grow some muscles."
He raised an eyebrow. "What, like George, you mean? I noticed that he caught you before you fell after the Portkey."
"So?" I mumbled, looking away, blushing faintly. "You still have none."
He glared at me. "I have muscles, thank you very much."
I snorted. "Sure. You have less muscles than Percy."
Ginny laughed as she skipped past; she got away with not carrying any logs, probably because she would die under the weight.
"You won't be laughing when I hang you upside down in mid-air," threatened Fred, and Ginny laughed again. Narrowing his eyes, he suddenly dropped the logs he was carrying and shot forwards; Ginny prepared to run, when-
"Oops," I mumbled as Fred stumbled over my ever-so-conveniently-placed foot and sprawled, head first, into a pile of mud.
"I'll kill you."
"You've got dirt on your face," I commented as I walked past.
"No I haven't- HEY!" Fred yelled as I kicked a pile of dust into his face.
"You have now."
"Are you killing my twin?" said George, appearing in front of me; I nodded.
"Yup."
"You'll pay," he said casually before walking in line with me, leaving Fred lying on the ground.
"Hey! Can't she pay now?!"
"Nah, she's alright."
"Justice," I sighed happily, letting the logs fall onto the small pile we had created. "D'you reckon we have enough logs for a fire?"
"I would say so," answered Mr Weasley, popping out of the nearest tent, holding some Muggle matches. He bent over the logs.
"This will be fun," I said, plonking down onto the grass. George sat down besides me just as Fred joined us.
"How long does it take to fetch a pail of water?" Fred asked after a while.
"A long time," I said, closing my eyes against the sun. "I feel so warm."
"You've been ages," said George suddenly, and I cracked an eye open to find Harry, Ron and Hermione leaning over us.
"Met a few people," said Ron, and there was a sloshing sound as he set the water down. "You not got that fire started yet?"
"Dad's having fun with the matches," replied Fred, and I laughed softly.
Once the fire was lit (Hermione finally took the matches away from Mr Weasley and showed him how to do it properly) we just relaxed around under the sun.
"What do you think the match will be like?" I yawned, rolling over.
"Excellent," answered George eagerly. "Better than being stuck at home, either way."
"What about you, Freddie?" After a moment, when he had still not replied, I rolled right over until I was next to him; his eyes were closed and his mouth was slightly open.
"Freddie? Fred? FRED!" I shouted in his ear, but he didn't stir.
Grinning at George, I shuffled closer to Fred, and then, cautiously, stuck my finger into his ear.
"HEY!"
Laughter filled our little campsite as Fred bolted upright, eyes wide; George was in hysterics and I was rolling round on the grass, crying with mirth. Mr Weasley shook his head at us as he prodded the sausages in the saucepan, letting the uncooked part of them cook.
"Just Apparated, Dad," said Percy loudly as he, Bill and Charlie strolled out of the woods. "Ah, excellent, lunch!"
We were halfway through our plates of sausages and eggs when Mr Weasley jumped up and started to wave, a big grinning forming on his lips. "Aha!" he said. "The man of the moment! Ludo!"
I stared, speechless, at Ludo Bagman; he looked slightly like an old fool. His stomach was quite large, making his yellow and black robes stretch; his nose was squashed and broken, and his innocent blue eyes, thick mop of blonde hair and rosy cheeks made him look like a school boy.
"Ahoy, there!" Bagman called happily. "Arthur, old man; what a day, eh? What a day! Could we have asked for more perfect weather? A cloudless night coming... and hardly a hiccough in the arrangements... not much for me to do!"
I coughed into my eggs as a group of Ministry wizards rushed past, pointing at something I couldn't see.
Percy almost ran forwards, his hand outstretched fervently.
"Ah- yes," grinned Mr Weasley. "This is my son, Percy, he's just started at the Ministry - and this is Fred - no, George sorry- that's Fred - and their friend Willow - Bill, Charlie, Ron - my daughter, Ginny - and Ron's friends, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter. Everyone, this is Ludo Bagman, you know who he is, it's thanks to him we've got such good tickets-" Bagman waved his hand as if to say it wasn't such a big deal.
"Fancy a flutter on the match, Arthur?" he asked eagerly, and a tinkle of gold could be heard as he jingled his pockets. "I've already got Roddy Pontner betting me Bulgaria will score first - I offered him nice odds, considering Ireland's front three are the strongest I've seen in years - and little Agatha Timms has put up half shares in her eel farm on a week-long match."
"Oh... go on, then," said Mr Weasley. "Let's see... a Galleon on Ireland to win?"
"A Galleon? Very well, very well... any other takers?"
"They're a bit young to be gambling," said Mr Weasley quickly. "Molly wouldn't like-"
"We'll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts," said Fred, as he and George quickly took out all their money, "that Ireland win - but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch. Oh, and we'll throw in a fake wand."
"You don't want to go showing Mr Bagman rubbish like that-" Percy hissed, but he was cut off as Bagman roared with laughter as the fake wand turned into a rubber chicken.
"Excellent!" I haven't seen one that convincing in years! I'd pay five Galleons for that!"
"Boys," Mr Weasley said under his breath. "I don't want you betting... that's all your savings... your mother-"
"Don't be a spoilsport, Arthur! They're old enough to know what they want! You reckon Ireland will win but Krum'll get the Snitch? Not a chance, boys, not a chance... I'll give you excellent odds on that one... we'll add five Galleons for the funny wand, then, shall we..."
"Cheers," said George, taking the slip of parchment Bagman handed him and tucking it away into the front of his robes. I poked his stomach.
"You're not gonna get it back," I sang under my breath, and he shrugged.
"You'll see."