"AH!"

I pressed my fingers to my burning scar on my forehead and scrunched up my face in pain. Yeesh, this hurts.

What a nightmare! That poor Muggle man…Frank, was it?

It's just a dream, Haile! Oh, right. But it was so real.I know, but there's no way it could have been. You're right. I'm stupid. Actually, you are, too, then. Hey!

My silent, half-sleep rambling argument with myself didn't help me at all. I was still recovering from the nightmare. It was about Lord Voldemort, obviously, and he had murdered a Muggle. Wormtail had been there…

Anger began to seep out, and I pushed it back quickly. I didn't need those feelings right now.

I shuddered, trying to shake the thoughts of Lord Voldemort from my mind. I didn't need—or want- those feelings either.

As you probably already know, I'm Haile Potter.

I grew a total of two inches this summer! I have reached, what seems to be, my final height at a whole five feet and one inch! My messy black curls maintained their length around my elbows, and my green eyes were as bright as ever.

Even though I'm vertically challenged, I could definitely see changes in my body anyway. I was beginning to look more like a woman, if I may say so myself. My face was maturing, my childlike features beginning to fade.

Also, I'm newly fourteen, and I couldn't be more ready for summer to end already! I was sick of being at the Dursleys' once again.

However, I can't deny this summer had been plenty better than the rest. For one thing, once I blurted to my aunt, uncle, and cousin that my godfather happens to be Sirius Black, things got a lot better for me.

Especially since Sirius writes me at least once a week, checking in on how I'm doing. And if, oh, say I happened to mention that I was the teensiest bit unhappy…

The Dursleys dare not think of the consequences.

In effect, I was allowed to do as I pleased this summer. Like, send out Hedwig at nightfall, and do my summer homework in broad daylight, sometimes even at the kitchen table.

My thoughts once again drifted to Lord Voldemort. I was still a bit shaken from my nightmare, and the fact that my scar hurt directly after. That usually meant Voldemort was nearby…but he couldn't be…not now…

I decided to write Sirius about it; he'd want to know.

Growing up without any parents deprived me of a normal life, and Sirius kind of fulfilled that empty hole for me. Discovering he was my godfather was a dream come true—once I found out he was innocent, that is.

Thoughts of last year flooded my mind. Scabbers really being Peter Pettigrew, the man that betrayed my parents, Lupin being a werewolf, and Sirius Black, the actual innocent man on the run who happened to be my godfather.

I wrote Sirius a fairly long letter, just rambling on about how I've been, and finally, my nightmare and scar. I figured I'd send it with Hedwig in the morning.

That morning at breakfast, while my Aunt Petunia, Dudley, Uncle Vernon, and I ate our yogurt (we were on a diet for Dudley's sake…little did the Dursleys know I had plenty of food stored upstairs, sent by my friends), the mail came, as usual.

Quite unusualy, Uncle Vernon called me into the hall, obviously feigning a calm voice.

"There's a letter. For us. About you," he hissed, when we were alone in the hall with the door shut.

"From who?" I asked excitedly.

"The Weasels, or something," Uncle Vernon spat at me. "READ."

He shoved the letter at me, and I read it eagerly, a grin spreading across my face. The Weasleys' had invited me to the Quidditch World Cup. They even invited me to stay the rest of the summer with them.

"Oh, please, please, please!" I begged. "Can I go? PLEASE!"

"Oh, shut it!" my uncle barked. "Let's get a few things straight first. Who is this woman?"

"She's my best friend's mom," I said, impatiently. "You've seen her. Red hair, lots of kids."

Uncle Vernon grimaced. "What the bloody hell is Quidditch?"

"It's wiz—it's a sport," I said quickly.

"Rubbish."

"No, it's not," I argued, annoyed. "It's great, actually—I play myself. This would be a really good opportunity for me, and I can't let you get in the way! Please let me go!"

Uncle Vernon narrowed his eyes. "And if I don't?"

"You know…I'm the middle of writing a letter to Sirius…you know, my godfather." I raised my eyebrows.

"I was going to let you go!" my uncle spat at me, hurriedly. "Go—go write him that you're going. You can tell these people that they're to pick you up."

"Thanks much!" I squealed delightedly, and I bounded upstairs to send Sirius's letter, and the Weasleys a 'Yes!'.

Hedwig was waiting for me with another very hyperactive owl when I reached my room. "Get ready for some letters!" I told her, trying to calm the other owl down. It was Ron's owl, I recognized, but I don't remember it being so annoying.

Hedwig hooted happily. I read the letter from Ron, who was extremely excited about the World Cup and was under the impression that whatever the 'Muggles' said, I was going regardless. Hermione was arriving that afternoon.

I quickly wrote Ron's reply and finished Sirius's letter, sending them with Hedwig and the little crazy owl.

I jumped on my bed a few times to get out the bursting energy I felt, but nothing could subside my happiness, as I pulled out some birthday cake for a proper breakfast (sort of).

On Sunday afternoon, I began packing. I finished quickly, by four o'clock. I trudged downstairs. Uncle Vernon met me.

"How are these people arriving? Will they be properly dressed?"

"Uh," I choked out. "Dunno." I hadn't really thought of that.

I sat in the living room for the next hour, watching Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon tense up every time the hands on the clock moved an inch towards five. Even Dudley joined us, looking frightened.

When the hand reached five o'clock, we all held our breath. The next minute passed slowly, and nothing happened.

"Ha," Uncle Vernon declared. "They're late."

BOOM.

We all looked over to the fireplace where the loud banging and shouting was coming from.

"NO! FRED, GO BACK! Tell George—No, George, there's some kind of mistake…it's blocked!"

Ron's voice came through the boarded up fireplace. "What's going on here?"

I stumbled over to the fireplace, almost laughing. "Mr. Weasley! It's me!"

Uncle Vernon was stunned. "What on Earth…?"

"They've tried to travel here by Floo Powder!" I shrieked, trying not to laugh. "It's transportation through fireplaces, but you've blocked it."

"Haile, is that you?" Mr. Weasley called, and the voices were quiet.

"Yes," I called through the boards. "You won't be able to get through—they've boarded it up. It's an electric fireplace."

"Fascinating!" came Mr. Weasley's voice. "Well, boys, there's only one thing to do. Stand back now, Haile, dear."

I jumped over to the couch, and Aunt Petunia shrilly began, "What's he going to—"

BANG.

A few seconds later, when I forced my closed eyes open, I found that the Dursleys were staring in horror at the emerging redheaded family.

Fred and George, the sixteen-year old twins, came out first, looked amused, with Mr. Weasley at their heels. Ron came out last, coughing.

While Mr. Weasley made enthusiastic but useless attempts to engage friendly conversation with the Dursleys, Fred, George, Ron, and I went upstairs to get my trunk.

Fred and George ended up lugging it downstairs, while Ron and I chatted animatedly about the World Cup and our summers. "Hermione's waiting for us at home," Ron said, cheerfully. "She's even excited about the Cup."

"With good reason!" George declared. "Bulgaria versus Ireland; it's going to be huge."

"I can not wait!" I enthused, jumping the last step.

Mr. Weasley was smiling awkwardly, and brightened at the sight of us. "Well, best be off!" he said, with a last glance at the Dursleys'.

"Don't mind them," I muttered to him, rolling my eyes. "Let's just go."

Fred and George were eyeing Dudley with mischievous grins. "You first, Ron," Mr. Weasley said.

"The Burrow!" Ron called, and he disappeared. I stole a glance at the Dursleys and they were all watching, jaws dropped.

"You next, Haile," Mr. Weasley said.

"Well…see you next summer," I offered to them. They were silent. Mr. Weasley looked taken aback, but I shook my head dismissively at him. "The Burrow!"

I spun and spun and spun, closing my eyes tight, until I finally fell into the Weasleys' living room, flat on my face.

"Oh, Haile," came a flustered voice. I looked up. Hermione was sprinting towards me, helping me up. "You're so clumsy! How are you?"

I hugged her. "Fine now!"

Fred and George came a minute later, snickering.

"What are you two on about?" Ron asked, suspiciously.

"Dudley ate one of our sweets," Fred said, wiping tears from his eyes.

"Ton-Tongue Toffee," George said. "We invented them ourselves."

"This must be Haile, then!" came a male voice from the kitchen. I looked over.

They looked so familiar I thought I must have seen them before, but then I realized they must be the two eldest Weasley brothers: Bill and Charlie.

They ambled over to me, and Charlie extended his hand. He whistled. "Charlie," he introduced himself. "Nice to finally meet you." Charlie was shorter, like Fred and George, and was very muscular.

Bill was tall like Ron and Percy, with a ponytail and an earring. "I'm Bill," he said, shaking my hand. "Wow, Ron, you didn't tell us she was so beautiful."

I blushed automatically, and Ron looked embarrassed.

Mr. Weasley arrived, and he looked furious. "Fred—George, that wasn't funny!" Mr. Weasley yelled. "His tongue was nearly four feet long before I shrank it!"

Ginny ran into the room with Mrs. Weasley. "What's happened, Arthur?" Mrs. Weasley asked briskly.

"Oh, nothing," Mr. Weasley said, hurriedly.

"Hi, Ginny," I said, smiling. She returned my grin.

"Come on, I'll show you where you'll sleep," she said. She led me to her room where Hermione's trunk already was.

"Oh, them two," Hermione sighed as we walked upstairs. "They'll never learn."

"They're brilliant, though," Ginny defended. "The stuff they've invented is genius!"

"What's all that racket?" came an annoyed voice, and a door opened across the hall from Ginny's room.

Percy stuck his head out.

"Hi," I said, waving.

"Oh, hello," Percy said, nodding stiffly. "I've got a report for the Ministry of Magic to write so I'd appreciate it if you could all tone it down."

Ginny rolled her eyes, and he shut his door. "A bit grumpy, he is," I muttered and Hermione giggled.

"It's so good to see you, Haile!" Hermione said, glancing at me again. "You haven't grown at all!"

"I've grown two inches!" I protested. Hermione looked the same except, like me, she was maturing. She was still a few inches taller than me.

Ginny introduced me to the small, hyper owl that had sent me Ron's letter: Pigwidgeon, nicknamed Pig.

Ron joined us a couple seconds later, and properly looking at him now, he, too, had grown a few inches. He was so tall now!

Ginny left the room, saying something about Charlie was going to play some Quidditch with her.

"Ron, you're like a giant," I said, looking up at his face.

"Compared to you," he laughed, and we all sat down and chatted about everything we could think of.

After a while, Ginny came up to get us. "Dinner," she announced.

"By the way, what's up with Percy?" I asked, as we ambled down the stairs.

"Oh, he's got this job at the Ministry," Ron said, carelessly. "It's Mr. Crouch this, Mr. Crouch that…he's his boss."

We ate outside, and it was a very joyous event. Come to think of it, all dinner times with the Weasley family were fun—especially with Bill and Charlie.

While I stuffed my face, I listened to the conversations floating around the table. Percy and Mr. Weasley to my left were discussing Percy's work.

Mr. Weasley was defending someone named Ludo Bagman, who Percy seemed to think was slacking off. "Father," Percy said impatiently. "Bertha Jorkins has been missing for over a month now."

"Bertha's hopeless," Mr. Weasley argued. "She probably got lost again."

"We've got enough on our plates," Percy declared airily. "Especially the big event we have to organize afterthe Cup." He looked pointedly at Ron, Hermione, and I.

I looked over at Ron, and he, too, was staring back at Percy. "He's been going on about that all summer," Ron said. "It's top-secret, he says. Whatever."

I shrugged, and turned my attention to the twins and Charlie who were discussing Quidditch. I leaned forward, eager to join the conversation.

"Ireland will win," Charlie said, promptly. "Didn't you see their match against Peru?"

"Viktor Krum plays for Bulgaria, though," George argued.

"Who's that?" I asked.

They looked at me like I was crazy, and then Fred laughed. "I forgot—you're with Muggles all summer! He's Bulgaria's best player—he's brilliant!"

"Ah," I said, nodding. They began to explain to me all about the Quidditch season—the wins, the losses, and the fantastic players….This Viktor Krum sounded like a regular hero.

After dinner, Ginny, Hermione, and I went to bed immediately. We had to get up extremely early tomorrow for the Quidditch World Cup.

It took me a while to fall asleep, because I was so excited, but before I knew it, I was being shaken awake by Mrs. Weasley.

Ginny was slowly waking up, and Hermione was already dressed. Ginny and I lethargically got dressed, and trudged downstairs for a quick breakfast.

Mr. Weasley had obviously tried to look like a Muggle, and I told him he had succeeded. He was wearing a sweater with jeans, and sneakers.

George, Fred, and Ron came downstairs two minutes after us girls. We began to eat breakfast. "Where's Charlie and Bill and Percy?" Ron yawned.

"They're Apparating, of course," Mrs. Weasley told us briskly. "They're still sleeping."

"No fair!" Fred barked.

"Can't wait until we can," George agreed.

"You'll be lucky to pass your test," Mrs. Weasley said, rolling her eyes. "Eat up now."

I finished my breakfast quickly, and began writing a letter to Sirius with some paper and ink I brought down. "Sirius told me to write him before I went," I informed everyone's curious glances.

"He sure is protective over you," Ron noted.

I kind of liked it. It made me feel good for once that someone cared about me. Like a parent. Was that so much to ask? I smiled as I sealed the letter and sent it off with Hedwig.

"So, how are we getting there?" I asked, once I saw Hedwig fly into the distance.

"Well, we're going to walk for a bit," Mr. Weasley answered, standing up. "And then we take a Portkey."

"A what?"

"You'll see," he assured me. "Best be off. Come on, kids."

We all hugged Mrs. Weasley good-bye, and set off. Hermione explained to me what a Portkey was on the way up.

Finally, we arrived at Stoatshead Hill, and we began looking around for the Portkey.

A couple of minutes later, a voice called over to us. "Arthur! We've got it!"

We all looked over. Two dark figures were standing in front of the starry early morning sky.

"Amos!" Mr. Weasley called. We followed him as he ambled over.

A very tall, good-looking man was standing there, holding an old boot. His son was no other than Cedric Diggory that stood right beside them. My stomach did flip-flops.

"This is Amos Diggory, everyone, and his son, Cedric; you probably know him," Mr. Weasley introduced.

I had forgotten how perfect Cedric's face was, or how tall and athletic his body was. Or how I melted into his eyes. He smiled directly at me, and I fell sort of faint as I returned it.

"Wow, are all these yours, Arthur?" Amos asked, looking around at us.

"No. These are Ron's friends—Hermione Granger, and Haile—"

"Haile Potter!" Amos exclaimed. "Well, hello! Cedric's talked about you—"more stomach flip-flops "—like about that Quidditch match when he beat you!"

I frowned. Cedric looked embarrassed. "There were dementors, Dad," Cedric reminded him. "She fell off…"

"Right," Amos said, with a knowing smile. I continued to frown. Fred and George stepped closer to me protectively.

"Well, I guess it's time," Mr. Weasley said, hurriedly. "Now, kids, just a finger will do."

We all pressed our fingers to it. I noticed with a jolt that my hand was touching Cedric's. He grinned at me, and then my feet left the ground with a forceful pull.

We were spinning and spinning, and then I felt my hands leave the boot. I smashed into the ground, looking around. Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and the twins were also on the ground.

Cedric politely helped Ginny, Hermione, and I up.

I looked around, and we appeared to be on some sort of deserted moor. A couple wizards stood a few feet away, and they were poorly disguised as Muggles.

They told us where we were to go, and we said goodbye to Amos and Cedric. "See you at Hogwarts, Haile," Cedric said to me, as he turned to walk away, with a winning smile.

My heart leapt, and I followed the Weasleys to our campsite with a new bounce in my step.

After about a quarter of a mile, we reached a man who was clearly a Muggle. "Good morning," he greeted us. "Name?"

"Weasley," Mr. Weasley said.

"Two tents by the woods for one night. You'll pay now?"

"Yes," Mr. Weasley answered, and he shoved the money in my hand to sort out.

"Foreign?" Mr. Roberts asked Mr. Weasley, confused as I handed him the money.

"Oh, no," Mr. Weasley said quickly. "I just let young Haile here handle the money. Teaches responsibility, of course."

"Yes," he said, eyeing me curiously, "well, I only ask because you're not the first that's had money problems."

"Oh," Mr. Weasley said, his face falling. "Well, thank you."

We trudged forward. Some tents along the rows looked perfectly normal, but the majority had something strange about them—some even had extravagant decorations, and more than one floor, and gardens.

Once we reached our campsite, we had to put the two tents up by hand. We were content with our work when we were done, but when the other three Weasleys arrived…well, we'd be a bit cramped.

"Come on in," Mr. Weasley said, opening the flap. All of us filed inside, and were awed by what we saw.

There was a living room with an adjoined kitchen, a bathroom, and even two bedrooms. "Should we go get water?" I suggested, eyeing the empty kettle.

"Yes, Fred—George," Mr. Weasley called. "Go with Haile to get some water."

Fred, George, and I exited the tent, and began our journey to get water on the opposite side of camp. As we walked through the endless rows of tents, we saw several people entering and exiting their own tents.

Some were cooking breakfast outside on campfires, and they clearly had no idea what they were doing. They were obviously trying to look as Muggle as possible.

We passed by tents that were completely green—supporting Ireland—and a few tents down, I spotted two of my closest friends at Hogwarts.

"Dean! Seamus!" I called, running up to them.

"Haile!" they chimed, and took turns giving me huge hugs. "How are you?"

"Great!" I chirped. "We've just gone to get some water."

"Supporting Ireland, I hope?" Dean asked, with an eyebrow raised.

"Of course," I replied, while Fred and George nodded vigorously.

"Well, have fun!" Seamus called after us. I waved.

"Like we could say no," Fred murmured under his breath.

A few minutes later, and we were now in the Bulgarian territory. "That's Viktor Krum, H," George said, pointing to a large portrait of him, scowling and blinking under thick eyebrows.

"Hmph," I said, "he's one grumpy Quidditch prodigy."

Fred and George rolled their eyes at me.

On the way back, I recognized some kids from Hogwarts, but there were countless numbers that I had never seen before. "If they don't go to Hogwarts," I asked Fred and George, "where do they go?"

"There are other wizarding schools," Fred explained.

Once we arrived back at the tent, Hermione had already lit a fire with a match. Mr. Weasley was still dumbfounded, it seemed.

During that night, lots of Ministry officials stopped to chat with Mr. Weasley. Even Ludo Bagman himself stopped by. Ron whispered to me that Bagman had played for Wimbourne Wasps—as a Beater.

"Hello there, Arthur!" he chirped.

While they chatted, Percy, Bill and Charlie Apparated and joined our campsite.

"All these yours?" Ludo asked, grinning at all of us.

"No," Mr. Weasley said, motioning to Hermione and I again. "This is Bill—Charlie—here's Percy, just started at the Ministry—Fred and George—Ron, and Ginny. Hermione Granger and Haile Potter here are Ron's friends."

Bagman was clearly didn't seem embarrassed to meet me, and stared at me quite pointedly with a grin. "Nice to meet you all," he said, cheerfully. "I'm Ludo Bagman, of course. Anyone fancy a bet?"

Fred and George looked at each other and blurted out, "Thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, and three Knuts that Viktor Krum will get the Snitch, but Ireland wins."

"You're kidding," I murmured.

"Nope," George replied, grinning at me. "How about it, Mr. Bagman?"

Mr. Bagman was jotting down their names in a notebook. "Excellent," he chirped. "You boys definitely have spunk, I daresay."

"So," Mr. Weasley said, looking uneasy at his sons' bet, "any luck with Bertha?"

"No," Ludo said, frowning. Then, he smiled, displaying lovely dimples. "She'll turn up. Always does. Barty Crouch keeps saying I should—well, there he is now!"

We all turned to our right, to a wizard joining our group. I knew this was Percy's boss just by the look on his face.

"Mr. Crouch," Percy said, abruptly, "would you like a cup of tea?"

"Oh, thank you, Patrick," Crouch said, nodding to Percy.

I looked at Fred and George, and we all suppressed laughter.

"So, how have you been, Barty?" Ludo said, taking a deep drink of tea.

"Getting this ordeal organized is no walk in the park," Crouch sighed.

"Oh," Ludo said, still cheerful. "Well, I guess not. Especially since we have the next event to organize."

Crouch shot Ludo Bagman a sharp look. "Nothing is to be said—"

"Oh, please. They'll know soon enough—it's happening at Hogwarts after all!" Ludo chimed.

"What is?" I asked.

Crouch looked me for the first time, and his eyes widened. "Yes, well, we best be off," he said, not taking his eyes off me. "Come, Ludo."

"So soon?" Ludo said, wearily, getting up. "Very well. See you later!" He glanced at me, his eyes shining. "A real pleasure, Miss Potter. You're even more beautiful in person."

They Disapparated. "What's going on?" Ron inquired.

"Oh, it's nothing you need to think about now," Mr. Weasley replied with a smile.

"It's quite confidential," Percy said stiffly. "Mr. Crouch was right to stop Ludo from saying."

"Can it, Patrick," Fred barked, and the rest of us laughed.